#I hate that i know that i know what both of those smell like (cigarettes and garbage) and how recent they are in my memory

[buwheal]

ouhhhh debating whether or not i want to show these but i cant help myself... when im bored i love love love to think up just. poses and activities. for you to interrupt him in. (bottom left excluded this is my doodle page) And i dont think ill do any of these soon anyways. besides the top right one. which you wont see. one million things for him to do..... I can do anything i want.... and i can make /him/ do anything i want.... Is the point of the askbox not just for you to hang around with him during his day? his week?? his year???

[yuujispinkhair]

I WANNA BE YOUR ENDGAME – Chapter 10

🏒❤️ A Hockey Romance feat. modern!Sukuna

Pairing: HockeyPlayer!Sukuna x Reader (female) Genre: College AU, Hockey AU, fluff + smut Playlist: I wanna be your Endgame Word Count: 4k Warnings: 18+, smut, cigarettes, alcohol. Fuckbuddies to lovers. Reader is a creative writing student. Sukuna is an ice hockey player + history student. This story will have approximately 14 chapters. Minors don't interact. Header by me. Divider @/benkeibear

MASTERLIST

SUKUNA'S POV

He doesn't know how he got into this mess.

Sukuna was never the type to develop feelings. All he ever knew was casual sex. Just a little meaningless fun with no strings attached. Hell, he always thought he was somehow the broken twin who wasn't even capable of falling in love!

But look at him now. He is lying in his bed, wide awake in the middle of the night, staring restlessly at his ceiling because he can't stop thinking about a certain someone. You were here a few hours ago, and Sukuna's pillow still smells like your perfume, and it's driving him fucking insane! He wishes you were still here in his bed, in his arms, your naked skin pressed against his, your fingers tracing his tattoos while you joke around with him and occasionally steal a kiss.

Fuck, he wishes you stayed the whole night again, and he could wake up with you snuggled tightly against him as if his arms are your favorite place in the world.

Sukuna likes it when you spend the whole night and stay for breakfast. It's something he feels he wouldn't mind at all if it happened every night. It's a thought that is so ridiculous that it makes him laugh a low, humorless laugh.

Itadori Sukuna always had his rules. Never get attached. Never stay the night. Never let someone get too close.

But he broke all of those rules for you.

He wants to have you here. All the time. He wants to hold you every night, wants to roll onto his side behind you, and wrap your smaller body in his big, warm embrace. He wants to wake up to your soft, sleepy smile. He wants to have sleepy, lazy morning sex with you that ends in both of you laughing and joking around, making him feel alive even before he has his first cup of coffee and his morning run. He wants to make pancakes for you and walk to class with you, maybe hold your hand while doing so.

Sukuna groans and sits up in his bed, the ruffled sheets pooling around his hips as he runs a shaky hand through his messy hair.

"What did you do to me, princess?"

He asks the empty room, huffing as he rubs his face. It's so ironic what is happening to him. Sukuna has the reputation of being a fuckboy and a heartless asshole who ends things the moment his little fling tries to stake a claim on him. The campus bad boy who only does one-night stands and casual, meaningless sex. The guy who broke so many hearts that he knows there are whole hate groups dedicated to him on Instagram and Facebook.

And now he is the one losing his sleep over someone. Now, he is the one yearning. And his fucking reputation is making things even more complicated because, seriously, how can he expect you to give him your heart when he is known for being such an asshole?

A grim laugh escapes his lips. It's no use lying here and trying to fall asleep with all that on his mind. Sukuna gets up and walks over to his window only in his boxer briefs, not bothering to put on any other clothes, even as he yanks open the window and the chill night air hits his naked chest.

Sukuna hums softly as he sits on the window sill and lights a cigarette, shielding it from the wind in the palm of his large hand. He takes a deep drag, letting his head fall back as his eyes close and the nicotine fills his senses. He exhales slowly, opening his eyes to watch the cigarette smoke vanishing in the cold air blowing in from the street.

Sukuna's gaze lands on his desk and the stack of history books he borrowed from the library. He sighs and grabs the one on the top of the stack, flipping it open, his eyes scanning the page, hoping to distract himself with the descriptions of some Heian-era rituals. A topic that usually manages to keep Sukuna's undivided attention for hours.

But tonight, the words he reads don't register in his brain. Sukuna's mind strays to the smell of your perfume and your beautiful loud laugh, the way you looked at him earlier when he was on top of you and fucked you slowly, your eyes so full of something he couldn't put into words, but it made him feel all strange and almost flustered, and he had to look away, and instead lean down to kiss you with deep tongue kisses to make you stop looking at him like that as if you could see right into his soul.

"Shit."

Sukuna closes the book and stares at the dark street below his window.

He is such a fool.

The thing is, Sukuna really tried to suppress his feelings for you. He distracted himself with hockey, going to the gym even more often than usual, and lifting weights even more aggressively. Hell, he voluntarily agreed to binge-watch trashy horror movies with his brother just so his mind would shut up about you.

And when all of that didn't work, Sukuna told himself he would just fuck someone else to cure himself of those strange ideas that were filling his mind. He went to one of the many parties he always gets invited to, looking for a casual hookup. But he couldn't do it. Even just talking to another girl, one of many who wanted to join the long list of Sukuna's puck bunnies, felt wrong. Seeing her smile at him and flirt with him, so desperate for his dick, made the hairs on his arms stand up in alarm. And when she had the audacity to try sitting on Sukuna's lap, he had practically bolted from his seat and left the party in a hurry without looking back.

He had grabbed a bottle of vodka on his way out and drank way too much of it while he was sitting alone in his room, feeling like the world's biggest asshole (and for once, he wasn't proud of it) just for contemplating fucking someone else. It made him feel dirty. Like a cheater! Even though he wasn't even in a relationship with you, and nothing had happened between him and that random girl.

Sukuna had known right then that he was utterly and completely fucked.

Itadori Sukuna, fuckboy extraordinaire, was no longer interested in casual sex with various partners. He wanted to put his dick only into one person. He didn't want any one-night stands or casual flings anymore because fuck it, none of them were you. He didn't want to touch anyone else or let them touch him! It felt wrong even thinking about it!

And that's where he is now. In love for the first time in his life, scared out of his mind, and absolutely at a loss at what to do about it.

This is new territory to Sukuna. He knows sex, but he doesn't know this! Sure yeah, he wants to fuck you 24/7, wants to fuck you so good the only thing you remember is his name and nothing else, but it's not just that. Sukuna wants to spend time with you outside of having sex.

He wants to sit in the library with you on your little study dates as he has begun to refer to them in his mind. He wants you to visit him in his dorm not just to fuck, but to sit on his kitchen counter and chat with him while Sukuna cooks for you. He wants to meet up with you for coffee at midnight, tell you about hockey tactics, and listen to you tell him about the current story you are writing, hoping that when you write a love story, you think about him.

He wants to see you at all his games, dedicating his goals to you and getting his good luck kiss the night before each game. He wants to see the worry in your eyes when he gets slammed into the boards, wants you to kiss his bruises and dote on him afterward.

All those things make Sukuna feel so strangely warm, even in the most chilly hockey arena. Even lying in bed with you snuggled into his side and watching hockey videos with you on his phone is something that makes him feel happier than he ever remembered being.

It's a mess. He is a mess! Sukuna, who is usually so in control and smart about everything, suddenly feels like the biggest fool because this is something he is completely unfamiliar with. It's terrifying!

All his life, Sukuna was quite literally the King of the Ice. Unfeeling, cold-hearted, not interested. He didn't let anyone in. Always wore his cocky smirk and arrogant attitude like a shield. But then you came along.

And ever since you sneaked your way into his life, Sukuna catches himself, letting his mask slip when he is with you. He catches himself smiling at you instead of his typical smirk. He catches himself laughing genuinely with you, unrestrained and free. He lets you come to his room and stay there as if you belong there. And he hopes you want to belong there. In his room, in his bed, in his arms. He hopes you want to be his just as badly as he is yours.

He doesn't know what got into him when he told you about his past. That's another of Sukuna's rules: He never talks about his past! He doesn't think anyone deserves to know the real Sukuna. They can have this version of him he wants them to see. The rough, bad boy, the star athlete, the fuckboy the arrogant asshole.

But somehow, you make him spill things he has never said out loud before. Hell, Sukuna even catches himself telling you stuff he never even said to his twin brother! His own flesh and blood!

You changed him, and it makes him feel naked like never before. Stripped of his carefully applied mask. Vulnerable.

But as scary as that is, it also feels strangely good. Sukuna feels comfortable with you. It's such a new experience. He can just be himself, and you like him anyway. He suspects you could already see through his mask even before he got careless and let it slip. You seem to be able to read him like one of your books. Sukuna prides himself on his analyzing skills, but he thinks you are really good at those things, too. At least when it comes to him. You never let him push you away with all the stupid shit he says. You seem to find him funny, laughing loudly about his dry humor and arrogant remarks.

You are so close to him. You are his friend. And yes, that's a big fucking deal!

For as long as Sukuna can remember, he has never made friends. His grandpa always told him and Yuuji to go outside and play with the other kids. "It's important to make friends. Look at me. I am old and lonely, and when I die, I am sure only you two brats will be at my funeral. Don't end up like me!"

But Sukuna, who had always been smart, strong, charismatic, and good at anything he started, found that he had failed at that one thing. He didn't know how to make friends. He had just bullied the other kids and pushed them off the slide or threatened to beat them up if they didn't give him the soccer stickers he was collecting. He had always known how to make people fear him, admire him, or a mix of both. But he had never made a friend. His only friend has always been his brother.

But you? You are his friend, and it blows Sukuna's mind.

It blows his mind how you sneaked your way into his life and into his heart. And now everything feels different. He feels different.

Being Itadori Sukuna used to be lonely. Yes, he is the star player of the ice hockey team and, therefore, one of the most popular guys on campus. But those are just superficial connections. None of those people know him for real. But it's not like Sukuna ever cared. He didn't mind being alone. He didn't like most people anyway! He didn't need anyone besides his brother!

But now? He likes you. And he likes spending time with you. He wants you in his life. He feels so much lighter when you are with him. He misses you when he hasn't seen you for half a day! It scares him how much he needs you.

"Ah, fuck!"

Sukuna groans and throws the thick book across his room, not feeling better, though, when it hits the wall with a loud thud and falls to the floor, where it lands next to his hockey bag. Sukuna stares unseeingly at it as he takes another deep drag from his cigarette.

He is fucking scared. Sukuna, who is never scared of anything. Sukuna, who looks every rival fearlessly in the eyes before he takes them down. But this... this thing with you...these feelings he suddenly feels. This is scary.

Why do people act as if love is easy? It fucking isn't! It means someone has power over you. Power to hurt you. Power to utterly destroy you.

Fuck. Sukuna never thought it would come to this, but he is beginning to regret his life choices. Because Sukuna knows his reputation, and he knows you know it, too. And the whole fuckbuddies thing he asked you to do is just more proof of the kind of guy he is. Why would you be willing to give your heart to someone like him?

He is about to spiral more when the door suddenly gets pushed open, and Yuuji stands in the doorway,

"What the fuck was that noise? Did you throw something?"

Sukuna huffs, flicking the cigarette butt out of his window as he jerks his chin challengingly towards his brother,

"Why are you even still awake, brat?"

Yuuji shrugs,

"I was re-watching Human Earthworm. But this is not about me! What's up with you? Why are you throwing your precious history books?"

The way Yuuji says it is what gets to Sukuna. The worry in his twin brother's voice. His wide honey-colored eyes trail searchingly over Sukuna, trying to find out what bothers him, trying to help him.

And suddenly, Sukuna doesn't care about keeping up appearances anymore. Fuck it, this is his twin. This is the brat who has been attached to his hip since they were born three minutes apart. The only person who ever saw Sukuna cry, when they were seven, and Yuuji had chickenpox, and Sukuna was convinced he would die, and it scared him so much that he sobbed like an idiot at his brother's bedside.

He sighs and runs a hand through his hair, looking away from his twin and out over the nightly street as he murmurs,

"I like her."

Yuuji makes a "Ha!" sound that sounds way too triumphant and then adds,

"Yeah, I know."

Sukuna's head whirls around, and he stares at his twin incredulously. But Yuuji just rolls his eyes and shrugs,

"Come on! It's obvious! I see how much time you spend with her and how you smile when she is with you! You let her sleep in your bed and invite her over for dinner! It's so cute how you act around her!"

"Shut up, brat! It's not..."

Sukuna doesn't get any further because Yuuji interrupts him, grinning broadly at him,

"You are both so cute! To me, it's like you already are boyfriend and girlfriend!"

And Sukuna's half-hearted denial gets stuck in his throat. He stares wide-eyed at his twin. Just hearing his brother say those words sends a surge of adrenaline through Sukuna. The same feeling that fills his veins before every game. Boyfriend and girlfriend. Fuck. It should sound scary, but it doesn't. It sounds good. It sounds like everything he wants.

Sukuna sighs, hiding his face in his large hands and rubbing it desperately.

"I don't know what to do. I don't want to fuck this up."

"You won't fuck it up, man. She likes you too, I am sure! Just tell her how you feel."

Sukuna says nothing but just huffs softly and stares unseeingly at the wall behind his brother. Yuuji makes it sound so easy. As if it isn't a huge deal. As if this isn't the first time that Sukuna has felt anything like this. He clicks his tongue, and his hands automatically grab his cigarette pack again. Long fingers with black painted nails pull out another cigarette, which he brings to his lips with shaky hands.

Sukuna lights it and takes a deep drag, waiting for the nicotine to fill his veins before he sends his twin a glare and rolls his eyes in annoyance,

"Just tell her how I feel? Tsk. Do you have any other super smartass advice, brat?"

Yuuji makes an incredulous noise, about to complain, but Sukuna stops him by sighing and then adding softly, without looking at Yuuji,

"What if she doesn't want me like that? Or what if I fuck everything up? It's not like I am boyfriend material. The whole campus knows that. With my reputation, it would be no wonder if she runs."

"Oh, shut up, idiot."

Sukuna hears the shuffling of feet and then confident footsteps so very similar to his own before he feels his twin brother's body push against him, joining Sukuna on the windowsill. Yuuji bumps against Sukuna's leg and reaches out to ruffle Sukuna's hair, reversing their roles for once.

"Look at me, Kuna."

Sukuna makes an annoyed noise in the back of his throat, but he sighs and turns to look at his brother, the hand holding the cigarette pressed lightly against his forehead.

Yuuji looks at him with that infuriatingly compassionate look in his honey-colored eyes, always treating Sukuna with so much kindness and genuine affection, whether he deserves it or not. Even Yuuji's voice is soft and gentle, understanding, when he tells Sukuna,

"You won't fuck it up. I know you are scared you will break her heart because that's all you ever did to girls. But it won't happen this time, Kuna. I know it. I know you. She is too important to you. And as tough as you like to act, you have a soft spot for the ones you love. Even if we are very few people. But if someone manages to break through your defense and find a way into your heart when you would do anything for that person. And she definitely broke through your defense."

Yuuji laughs good-naturedly and pokes Sukuna's chest with his index finger while he adds,

"It doesn't matter what you did before she came into your life. It doesn't matter that you used to think you would never fall in love. You changed. You have found your person. And that's all that matters. Not your past or what you used to think about relationships. All that matters is what you'll do from now on. And come on, my big brother is always the best at everything he does! So I know you will be an amazing boyfriend if you let yourself walk that path."

There's a lump in Sukuna's throat all of a sudden, and he gulps hard, feeling lightheaded somehow at hearing Yuuji say all those things. Sukuna does the only thing he knows to do in that situation and pats Yuuji's finger away, acting annoyed, even though he feels like he is overflowing with gratefulness for having such a good little brother.

Yuuji chuckles softly, patting Sukuna's hand away, too. His lips lift in a mischievous grin, a grin that is far too similar to the one Sukuna sees in the mirror. Sukuna steels himself for trouble right when Yuuji opens his mouth and adds in a sly tone,

"And if everything I just said wasn't enough to convince you, ask yourself how would you feel if she graduated and moved away and lived a life without you? How would you feel about that? Or if she starts dating another guy right in front of your eyes because you never told her how you feel, and she thinks you don't like her that way? How would that make you feel?"

And suddenly, blood is rushing in Sukuna's ears, and a vein is throbbing in his temple as he stares at his twin. Now that was a fucking eye-opener!

When that Gojo brat tried to hit on you, Sukuna saw red like never before in his life. The thought of seeing you with Gojo or any other guy makes him feel sick to his stomach. He doesn't want to lose you. He could never get over it if you dated someone else because Sukuna was too much of a coward to tell you he likes you.

You're his girl, and Sukuna is your boy, and anything else sounds like a cruel joke! And he realizes right fucking now that it's in his hands! The only way to make you hopefully stay with him is to be honest with you.

And yeah, that is a fucking scary thought. Opening up about his feelings, baring his heart to you on a silver platter, sounds like the scariest thing Sukuna ever did. But the thought of seeing you walk away because Sukuna wasn't man enough to tell you how he feels is scarier than walking up to you and dropping his mask and confessing how he feels.

Sukuna reaches out to clap his brother's broad shoulder appreciatively, wordlessly thanking him for the much-needed pep talk and advice.

He knows what he has to do now. Fuck it! He is Sukuna! He is the fucking King of the Ice! He is someone who laughs fear in the face and wrestles it to the ground, and works his ass off to get what he wants, no matter how big the challenge is!

He won't act like a scared little boy anymore! He will tell you how he feels!

"Hey, princess."

Sukuna walks up to you, where you are grabbing some books from your locker, looking far too pretty and sexy in the leggings and oversized sweatshirt you are wearing. You jump slightly at hearing his voice behind you. It's so fucking cute.

You turn around as Sukuna stops in front of you, looking up at him with big eyes and a little grin as you greet him.

Sukuna smirks at you as he reaches out to ruffle your hair, a move that always earns him the cutest little squeal from you and a half-joking, half-annoyed roll of your pretty eyes as you pat his hand away. But as always, you cannot stop the happy smile from spreading over your face. The smile that always makes Sukuna's heart feel a lot warmer.

He is so smitten it's embarrassing. But judging by the way you giggle and wrap your small hand around Sukuna's biceps, leaning closer so your face and tits press lightly against his arm while you smile up at him, Sukuna can easily pretend that you feel the same way about him.

Well, he will find out if he is right soon, won't he?

He walks you to your creative writing classroom, carrying your books for you while inwardly giving himself a pep talk, the same one he gives himself before every hockey game. You can do it! You will get anything you want! You will reach your goal. You are the fucking King of the Ice, man!

Sukuna stops in front of your creative writing classroom handing you your stack of books, his lips lifted in a lopsided grin as he cocks his head, silently applauding himself for how casual he manages to act even while his pulse is fluttering nervously and his muscles are all tensed up from how scared he is to fuck this up. But his voice comes out in his usual lazy drawl when he tells you,

"We have to work on your ice skating skills. Meet me at the arena tonight at ten."

You hug the books to your chest, tilting your head and blinking up at Sukuna with a little confused frown on your pretty face that he would love to kiss away right this fucking second.

"At ten? But is it even still open that late?"

"Let that be my problem, princess. So, are you coming?"

Sukuna shoves his hands into the pockets of his black jeans, one eyebrow raised expectantly as he grins at you. If you say no, he will literally start pouting and use every ounce of charm he has in himself until you say yes.

But he doesn't have to worry. You laugh softly and nod,

"Of course, I'll be there."

I LOVE HIM SO MUCH 😭💗💗 I had the time of my life writing this chapter from Sukuna's POV!! It always hits me right in the feels when I do that because it makes me feel so close to him.

I hope you enjoyed the chapter and all the things that flow through Sukuna's mind. If you haven't already done it, please listen to "Novocaine" by The Band Camino because it describes Sukuna's turmoil perfectly. While working on this chapter, I listened to it on repeat, and also "Tequila" by Dan + Shay, because it also describes this YEARNING, I think. Oh god, I am so in love with him, it's not even funny anymore 😭😭

Sighhhhh, he really likes us, hm? 😵😍

In the next chapter, Reader will meet Sukuna at the ice hockey arena, but it's a bit more than just the private ice skating lesson that she expects.

Thank you so much for all the love you give this AU! It means the world to me and makes me so happy! I wish you all a Happy New Year! 💗💗

Reblogs and comments would be very sweet.

[anonymityisfunwriter]

The Uptown Girl and The Brooklyn Boy

Pairing: Greaser!Bucky Barnes x Uptown Girl!Reader Summary: Everyone knows that all any Uptown Girl needs is a Greaser from Brooklyn to make her forget all about her uptown world.

A.N. - Here's a long awaited request from one of my dearest readers @oneofstarkskids, it definitely strayed a little from that initial request but i hope you enjoy! "just reread this and it's still so amazing 😭 do you take requests? if so, would you be inclined to writing a grease themed bucky au one shot?"

Bucky Barnes Masterlist | AnonymityIsFun Masterlist

Picture this... he's from the wrong side of the tracks. He's everything every mother in your neighborhood warned you about. His hands perpetually stuffed in his pockets, a cigarette hanging from his lips, scuffed leather jacket snug around his broad shoulders.

You're none of those things, the complete opposite. Pearls strung around your neck. Perfectly done up, lips painted the perfect rouge. You're as educated as a woman could be in your day and age. You're an Uptown girl. Capital O - Old Money.

Your friends are enamored with Bucky Barnes and his friends - though you all know they'll never do anything about. Not as long as their parents had anything to say about it. And none of them are prepared to give up their high class life. It's just fun for them. A way to sow some wild oats before their parents introduce them to their future husbands.

Every chance they get, they pester you to take the long way home. To walk by that mechanic shop where Bucky and his friends hang out.

They never approach those Brooklyn boys. No, they never offer more than a coy smile and a languid, flirty twinkle of their manicured fingers. They just relish in the attention they get from walking past them.

You hate it. You hate their arrogance. You hate the smell of nicotine that hangs around him. You hate everything about them, down to those oddly charming Brooklyn accents.

"Hey," a blonde boy calls as you and your best friend walk past their mechanic shop one day. "Hey!"

"I told you this was a bad idea," you hiss at your friend, locking your arm with hers. "Now, look."

"I think they want to talk to us," she squeals under her breath.

He picks up his stride, doing a half jog until he reaches where your friend holds you hostage on the pavement. "We see you ladies passin' through every once in a while. Thought we could be friends or somethin'."

Your friend is immediately entranced with the blonde boy. Her face flushes as she beams at him, "We would love that!"

"We have enough friends," you simultaneously reply.

"She's kidding," your friend nervously chuckles, elbowing you in your ribs.

The blonde boy laughs, rubbing the back of his neck, "Well, I'm Steve. My friend there is Bucky."

As if on cue, Bucky saunters up beside Steve with an equally arrogant grin. He tips his head at each of you. "Hello, ladies."

Your friend nods at the two of them, an ear to ear grin taking up her entire face. "It's nice to meet you, Steve, Bucky."

The brunette's eyes flash over to you, speaking through that infuriating smirk, "Pleasure's ours."

"Would you ladies like to join us for a Coke?" Steve offers.

"We'd love to!" she immediately replies.

You shoot your friend an intense, incredulous glare. "I'm sorry, could you excuse us for a second?"

"Sure thing." Steve nods, ambling away from you and your friend to give you a moment of privacy.

Bucky doesn't move an inch. He stands before you with that same arrogant smirk, his eyes gleaming with mischief. "Oh, I'm good right here."

"Fine," you scoff, speaking as bluntly as you can. Despite your polite upbringing, you you find don't care about offending him in the slightest. "We are not staying here!"

"Come on," she pleads. "What's the harm?"

"Where's the good in staying?" you shoot back.

"They're just so handsome," she fawns, looking over her shoulder to give a coy wave to the blonde boy. "And there's one for the both of us, it's fate!"

"It's not fate. They're nothing but trouble."

Bucky snorts, rolling his eyes, "You remember that I'm still right here, right?"

You shoot a glare at Bucky. "I know."

He playfully clutches his chest. "You're hurtin' my feelings, Doll."

You can feel the anger raising your blood's temperature. You don't like how quickly he's gotten underneath your skin. "I'm not your Doll."

"Princess?" he suggests with an infuriating wag of his eyebrows.

There's an embarrassingly large part of you that wants to stamp your foot at him and yell at him to stop teasing you. You keep it together just enough to contain that visceral reaction you're having to Bucky Barnes. Mostly. "I'm not your anything!"

He crosses his arms over his chest. "What did I ever do to you, Princess?"

Your eyes narrow in accusation. "I know your type."

"Charming? Irresistibly handsome?"

"Horrendously arrogant," you seethe at him. You turn back to your friend, only to find her missing, "Now, can we please go-"

"Your friend ran off the second you were focused on me."

Your eyes flicker to behind Bucky to your friend, who sure enough is enthralled in a conversation with Steve. "I was not focused on you!"

"Then why didn't you notice your friend runnin' away from you?"

"You're incorrigible."

The corner of Bucky's lips twitch up. "Didn't they teach you in that finishing school that it's not polite to insult people who are tryin' to be your friend?"

"And how would you know that I went to finishing school?"

He quirks an eyebrow at you like the answer is obvious. His eyes rake over you. From the way you hold yourself. To the dresses that oozed quiet luxury. You and Bucky were as different as night and day. "I know an uptown girl when I see one."

"And I know trouble when I see it," you shoot back. "And you Brooklyn boys are nothing but trouble."

It only gets worse from there. After that first interaction, your friend in fully infatuated with Steve Rogers. There is no tearing her away from him.

And that means, as your friend's dutiful alibi, you were dragged down to Brooklyn far more than you ever wanted.

And worst of all, it meant you spent most of your free time in the presence of Bucky Barnes.

"Please, just be nice," your friend begs as you trudge up to their garage. "I'd settle for polite even."

You scoff at her, rolling your eyes, "I'm always polite - just like I'm always nice."

"Not to Bucky, you're not."

"I don't know what you're talking about," you grumble, walking into the garage. Your friend takes off, immediately falling into the arms of Steve Rogers. Leaving you with Bucky Barnes to sit with him on the the couch that's become your most constant companion on days like today. As you walk past Bucky, you snipe, "James."

Bucky quirks a brow, smirking at you, "Oh, so now I'm James?"

"That's your name, isn't it?"

He walks away from the bike he spends most of his time working on, snatching a rag from his tool bench and wiping his hands of motor grease. Your eyes involuntarily wander to his hands, the care he puts into wiping each and every one of his fingers.

You stare for a second too long for Bucky not to notice you staring at his hands. "Remind me to thank Steve for tellin' ya that."

You roll your eyes, finally snapping out of it. "It's far better than the alternative."

He flicks the rag over, resting it on his shoulder. "So you like my name?"

You softly snort as you settle onto the couch. "I didn't say that. I said it was better than the alternative."

That smirk only gets even bigger. "What else do ya like about me?"

You roll your eyes. "Not a thing."

He settles into the couch beside you. Far too close for your liking. You can almost feel the rough denim of his jeans through your skirt. "I just love these conversations of ours."

"I don't."

His entire torso turns towards you, mischief and amusement gleaming in those blue eyes, "I mean, why would I want warmth and affection when I could have blind hatred?"

"It's not blind hatred." In spite of easily Bucky gets under your skin, you can't deny just how unfairly handsome he is. Even now, you find yourself lost in the depths of his ocean blue eyes. "It's perfectly reasonable contempt."

He gently runs a finger down your cheek. "I love when you talk smart to me."

You swat his hand away from your face. "Don't patronize me."

"I'm not!" Bucky insists. "I really love it! I know it's just your way of flirting with me!"

You scoff, making no attempt to hide your offense, "I am not flirting with you!"

He tilts his head at you, that arrogant smirk once again tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Come on, just admit it, Doll. You're a little sweet on me."

"I am not your Doll!" You fly up out of your seat with an indignant huff. "And I most certainly am not sweet on you!"

"Don't think I haven't noticed the way you stare at me when I walk around here without a shirt. Or the way you were staring at my hands just now. What exactly were you picturin' my hands doin'?"

"I was not picturing anything." Your cheeks flame as you continue to bicker back and forth with him. Sure, he was possibly the most gorgeous man you'd ever laid eyes on. And yes, he could be incredibly charming. And sometimes, you found yourself staring at him in an not so innocent way. But you hated him. He infuriated you to no end. "And I was not staring!"

The grin is practically splitting his face. "And you've definitely thought about kissin' me."

"I would rather walk from here to Jersey than kiss you."

He slides up off the couch, taking a long step towards you. "You've got a hell of a temper, you know that?"

You refuse to back down. You press an accusing finger into his chest. You can't help but notice just how firm the muscles underneath that white t-shirt are. "I just think you're real good at pushing my buttons."

"Real good?" Bucky teases. "I think Brooklyn is startin' to rub off on you."

"You know what I think?" Your chest starts to heave with the anger and frustration you feel towards Bucky Barnes. "I think that you're the last person I would ever let rub off on me. I think that you're an arrogant smart ass that likes to spend his day running his mouth."

"And I think you're a repressed priss that couldn't take what she wanted 'less it's handed to her on a silver platter."

"You wouldn't know a damn thing about what I want."

"You wanna know what I think..." He leans closer, lowering himself to your eye level. "I think that you're pissed off because you know deep down those punk ass rich boys will never make ya happy, I think you're pissed off 'cause you're bored, and I think you're pissed off 'cause you want me - even if you'll never admit it."

You don't have a response to that. There's not a single word that comes to mind. You don't think you've ever been this mad before.

And because you can't think of a single word to assuage your heaving chest and boiling blood, you do something that a polite, good girl like you would never even dreaming of doing. Before you can think, you find your hand opening and winding back.

Before you can even make contact with his cheek, he catches your hand, gripping your wrist between his warm, calloused hand. He hauls you forward until you stumble into his chest.

For a moment, you can almost hear a pin drop. The tension is so thick the only air in the room Bucky's breath dancing across your lips. "I think I'm gonna kiss you."

A soft breath stutters from your lips. "And I think I'm gonna let you."

You weren't sure what it was, but after that first kiss, you couldn't get enough of your Brooklyn boy. Even after your friend and Steve had mostly fizzled out, you couldn't get enough of him.

You waited for the moment that they all talked about, the moment when you had your fill of the boy from the wrong side of tracks, when your wild oats were sufficiently sowed, but it never came.

Every time you laid eyes on him, the seal on your fate only solidified more and more. The more you saw him, the more you wanted him. And the more sure you were that you would never be able to let him go.

You weren't a stranger to the boredom and monotony of your upper echelon life, but this was different. This wasn't boredom, he wasn't a distraction. From the moment you met Bucky, you lost all interest in the upper echelon of it all.

Suddenly, you don't care what your friends think, what your parents would think. Suddenly, you were throughly repulsed by the thought of marrying one of those repressed, trust fund babies that littered your street.

And even your friends, the same ones that lived off their fleeting attention, didn't understand.

Your friend rolls her eyes again, a sigh of irritation leaving her lips as you ready to go meet Bucky, "Are you really going back up there?"

"You're the reason I met him in the first place!"

"I know. I know," she groans, clearly disappointed that you hadn't lost interest in Bucky like she had with Steve. "And I'm happy for you! I am! I just I want to make sure..."

Her tone finally gets your full attention. You put your bag down on the table, your eyebrow pulled together, "Make sure what?"

"You're just sowing wild oats, right?"

Your entire face puckers with distaste, "What?"

"That sounded bad," she backtracks, a guilty look painting her face. She takes a deep breath, resting a condescending hand on your shoulder. "You just - you know your future isn't with Bucky, right?"

You shake her hand off your shoulder. "What does that mean?"

"He's from a different world than we are. You know that."

"I can't believe what I'm hearing," you scoff. "I thought you, of all people, would understand."

"Come on, he's not exactly the sort of guy you can bring home to your parents."

You snort, turning away from her, "I have to go."

"You know I'm right!" she calls after you.

You didn't know that. In fact, the more time you spent with him, the more you saw why he was exactly the right person to bring home to your parents. He was everything you could ever bring yourself to hope for and more. Sure, he was different than you and your family, but he was a good man. He was perfect for you.

Surely, your parents could see that. Surely, they could see how good he was for you.

So that's exactly what you were going to do.

Bucky sighs against your lips, "I missed ya."

You don't know when that happened, but you've come to find a comfort in the scent of the faded leather of his jacket, in the feeling of his calloused fingertips trailing dangerously high on your upper thigh.

In the backseat of his beloved car, you curl closer into his side, resting your head on his chest, "Me too."

He kisses the top of your head, watching as you stare off into the distance, "What's goin' on in that pretty head of yours?"

You pull back slightly, lifting your head off his chest. With a furrowed brow, you ask him, "How serious are you about me?"

"Dead serious," he replies in an instant.

You lightly swat his chest. "Quit playing."

"'M not playin'," he swears. He does an 'x' over his heart, "Cross my heart."

His answer gives you all the reassurance you need. All there was to do was ask him. Still, there was a hesitancy. You worry that this will just make him realize that you two might just be insurmountably, irreconcilably different. You decide that the best way to ask is just ask. "Then what would you say about meeting my parents?"

"I'd love to," Bucky coolly answers.

You can't help the way your face lights up with hope. "Really?"

"Of course. Anything for my girl."

You really like the way that sounds. His girl. You could get used to being his girl.

The look on your face is worth it all to Bucky. He only hopes you don't see the anxiety in his expression.

He wasn't oblivious to how different your worlds were. He knew there was a good chance that this wouldn't last forever. It didn't really matter what he wanted or how much he was willing to fight for you, he knew the reality of it all.

He couldn't offer you half of what someone in your neighborhood could. Your worlds couldn't be more different.

And he's never been more aware of it than on the eve of meeting your parents.

Steve smirks at Bucky as he fiddles with his tie again. "You're really seein' this through, aren't you?"

Bucky smacks Steve upside his head. "Don't be a jerk."

"I'm just sayin'," Steve shrugs, settled into the couch of Bucky's family home. "I'm happy for ya, Buck. You really like this girl."

"I wouldn't be dressed like this for anyone else. Are you sure this is right?" Bucky tugs at his tie again. Maybe it was that the suit hadn't seen the light of day in a few years and was a little more snug than he remembered. Or maybe it was just that he'd only dressed like this for funerals and weddings, but everything about his getup today made him feel like a fraud. He was sure if your parents saw him like this, they'd see right through him. "I feel like I'm goin' to a school dance."

"Where does she live again?"

Bucky tries his best to hide his wince. He'd never been to your side of town, but he'd heard stories. Sure, most of them were made up, but there had to be some truth buried in the tall tales. "Upper West Side."

Steve pats his shoulder. "Stick with the tie, Buck."

He listens to Steve's advice and sticks with the tie. As he walks through your neighborhood, seeing houses bigger than entire apartment buildings on his block that line your street, he's pretty confident in trusting Steve up until the moment he sees you.

Your smile stutters as you see him waiting outside the gate of your home. It was just his luck that your house was one of the biggest on the block. Your eyes trail up and down Bucky's uncharacteristic attire. "What are you wearing?"

His heart sinks. He looks down, patting his blazer and tie. "Am I - Am I not this thing right? I knew it - I told Steve -"

"No, no," you quickly interject. "You look great! I've just never seen you... like this."

"What's wrong with this?" Bucky hedges.

Your soft smile up at him is the only thing soothing his knotted stomach. "Nothing, I - I just wanted them to meet you, to meet the Bucky that I know and - and I want them to know you. Not whoever this is."

"I - I didn't think they would like that Bucky very much," Bucky confesses.

It doesn't escape you that he's nervous, especially as he fiddles with this tie over and over again. You're well aware of how intimidating this all is. Even as someone who grew up in this social circle, in the thick of the upper echelon, you still found yourself scared of doing and saying the wrong thing.

You knew he was only trying to fit in as best as he could. Still, you missed the smell of his leather jacket, the waft of motor oil that often clung to his skin. "Well, I like you the way you are. Greaser and all."

"Thanks." It's comforting to him. Still, as his eyes rove over your house, he can't help but be glad he listened to both Steve and his mother. He holds out the bouquet of flowers in his hand. "My Ma told me to bring these for your Ma."

An endeared smile tugs at the corner of your mouth. He was really trying to win over your parents. He really was serious about this - about you. "My mother will love this."

"Your mother," Bucky corrects himself, doing his best to tame his Brooklyn twang.

"Just be yourself," you assure him, giving his hand a gentle squeeze as you make your way up the long driveway. "No one else, just you."

"Any other tips?"

"If you run out of things to talk about ask my father about his cars. He collects them."

It takes everything in Bucky not to gape like a fish out of water. "He collects... cars?"

You ignore his question, continuing to fill Bucky in on your parents, "And my mother, well, she's a terrible gossip. If you can get her talking about her friends, you've won her over."

"Okay. Anything else?"

"Just relax. They'll love you."

As he walks into your home, greeted by a man wearing a nicer suit than he is who offered to take his coat from him, Bucky's not quite sure he believes you.

Your heels click against the sleek marble flooring as you guide him through your home. He holds on tight to your hand, half afraid that you'll let go and he'll get lost in the labyrinth of pristine beige hallways.

Your father is the first to greet Bucky in your living room. He extends a hand out to Bucky. "You must be the boy we've heard so much about."

"It's nice to meet you both," Bucky returns the firm handshake before turning to your mother with the warmest smile he can muster through his anxiety. "You have a lovely home, ma'am. I brought these for you."

She takes the bouquet from Bucky's hand. "Oh, that's very kind of you..."

"Oh, it's Bucky," he supplies.

"Bucky?" your mother dubiously repeats. "How unique..."

"It's James, actually," Bucky corrects himself, already feeling himself getting flustered. "James Buchanan Barnes. 's where Bucky comes from."

Your mother nods, offering a tight smile, "How lovely."

As your mother hands off the flowers to one of the wait staff, he can't help but already feel like he's already made that dreaded bad first impression.

As though you can see the despair forming in the pit of his stomach and dampening the glimmer in his blue eyes, you give his hand a squeeze along with a smile.

"Dinner is ready," your mother announces. "Why don't we make our way to the dining room?"

"That sounds wonderful," you beam, leading Bucky into the next room. You stutter to a stop just before the dining table. You look at the table as you take your seat, your eyebrows furrowed at something that Bucky hasn't quite caught on to. "Mother? I thought we agreed on a more simple menu tonight."

As you speak you reach under the table, giving Bucky's hand an apologetic squeeze. Just from your inflection, Bucky can tell what awaits him will not be pleasant.

"Nonsense." She dismissively waves you off. "We have a guest."

"We talked about this," you admonish. "You promised."

"Bucky?" your mother calls. "Do you mind having a more formal dinner? I know it might be a tad unusual for you."

"Mother," you sharply warn.

"Um, no, ma'am," Bucky awkwardly lilts. "That sounds lovely."

A self satisfied smirk settles on your mother's face. "See? It's fine."

"Why are there so many forks?" Bucky whispers under his breath.

"Just work your way in," you reply as quietly as you can.

"Do you change forks every bite or somethin'?" It's half an attempt at a joke, half an honest question.

"In between courses."

"Courses?"

Before you can answer Bucky's question, your mother is already beginning her interrogation. "So, James, tell us about yourself."

"There's not much to tell," Bucky replies. "I was born and raised down in Brooklyn."

Your father snorts, "Really?"

You're not quite sure if Bucky catches the sarcastic lilt to your father's question or if he really does just try to rise above it. It's hard to tell with how he rolls with the punches. "Yes, sir."

"Any siblings?" your mother asks.

"I'm the oldest of four, ma'am."

"Any plans for your life?" your father finally pipes in.

"Dad," you hiss.

Your father shrugs, "It's an honest question."

Once again, it rolls off of Bucky's back. "Well, I'm workin' at a garage right now. Me and my friend, Steve, we're hopin' to buy it out. We've just about saved enough between the two of us to buy it from the ol' man when he's ready to retire."

"A man with a plan. I like that."

"Thank you, sir." You're sure that you hear Bucky's sigh of relief as he finds his footing. You can practically see his signature smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Your daughter tells me that you have an impressive collection yourself."

You weren't entirely sure how he pulled it off, but by the end of the night, Bucky is talking to your parents like they're old friends.

You're not even sure why you're that surprised, you hated him up until the moment you succumbed to his charm.

As the evening comes to a close, he stands in the doorway, shaking your father's hand again, offering your mother that charming grin once more, "Thank you for dinner. Everything was delicious."

"You're welcome back anytime, James."

"Thank you." You're almost shocked at your mother's open invitation. He presses a chaste kiss to your cheek. "I'll see ya later."

The three of you stand in the foyer of your house as Bucky walks down the steps and down the driveway with his hands shoved in his pockets. You look up to your father, face filled with hope. "So?"

"He's a nice boy."

You're not sure your grin can get any bigger. "I really like him."

"You'll grow out of it."

Your heart sinks the moment the words leave your father's mouth. "What?"

"It can't come soon enough," your mother groans. "You're far too good for him."

"You don't know him."

"We know his type, dear," your mother condescendingly sighs. "And good girls like you don't belong with boys like that, but I do think it was sweet of you to invite your little infatuation to dinner."

You feel like all the air has been knocked out of you. For a moment tonight, you really thought they were coming around. You truly thought it would all work out for the best. "Infatuation?"

"That's what this is, right?" your father asks, concern painting his expression when he sees the furiously determined look in your face. "You're just... rebelling?"

You look up at your father, shaking your head. "No, no, I'm not just rebelling."

You fought with them the whole night before you went to find him the very next day. They threatened you with everything they could think of. When that didn't work, they bribed you with everything they could think of. You didn't care for any of it.

The moment you see him, you know he knows. You're not sure if he realized it the moment he walked out of your door or if it took him a quick recollection of the night to realize it, but he knows all the same. It looks like he hasn't slept a wink. A deep frown replaces his usual grin. He looks entirely and totally distraught.

He notices you the moment you walk up to his garage just like you did all those times before.

This time, it's obvious is different. There aren't barbed words or verbal jabs. You don't bound into his arms. Even Steve offers you a sad twitch of his lips.

Bucky watches you for a long moment before you break the silence. He reaches into his pocket, lighting a cigarette in between his fingers. "Hi."

"They hated me, right?" He doesn't waste words. Your lips press together in a tight line. He takes a large drag from his cigarette. You can't remember the last time you saw him smoking. He shakes his head, hissing under his breath, "Damn it..."

"Bucky?"

He takes another large pull from his cigarette. Even from feet away, you can smell the nicotine in the air. "Just do it. I understand."

"What?"

"That's why you're here, right? Just get it over with."

Your eyebrows furrow. "I don't understand."

"I'm not an idiot, alright?" he spits. "I know I didn't pass their little test, so just call it already."

"Is that really what you thought last night was?"

"What else would you call last night? 'Cause I think I was the butt of the joke from beginnin' to end."

"You were not the butt of the joke, Bucky."

"Oh, please, I fell face first into their punchline."

You suck in a shaky breath, both your own hurt and the cloud of smoke around Bucky burning at your throat, "Is that what you think of me? That I was tryin' to set you up?"

"Yes! No- No! I just - I - Don't you see it?"

"See what?" you demand.

"That I'm not good enough for you!" he desperately exclaims, tossing his cigarette on the pavement. "And everyone else already knows it! Last night proved that!"

"My parents are assholes, Bucky. I came here to apologize for them, to tell you that I don't care what they think."

His voice quiets, the anger melts off his words until all that's left is a heartbreaking sincerity, "You should. You deserve so much more than what I can give you."

"They don't know you, but I do." You reach for his hand, lacing your fingers with his. "And I think you've got everything I want. I'm yours, Bucky. All yours."

"Do you mean that?"

"Every word."

"What did I do to deserve you? My perfect girl." He kisses the back of the hand he hods, using it to tug you closer to him. He quirks a brow at you when you pull away from him. "What?"

You wrinkle your nose at him. "I hate the smell of smoke."

"I'll quit," he immediately replies.

"You'll quit smoking? Just like that?"

"That surprise you?"

"It's just - Maybe you Brooklyn boys aren't as tough as you think you are," you tease.

He smirks. "Maybe we're not. Maybe I'm not - but I think it's because I'm in love with an Uptown girl."

Bucky Barnes Masterlist AnonymityIsFun Masterlist

As always, let me know what you think! Reblogs and comments are always appreciated! 💛

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[16ferrari]

DOUBLE TROUBLE | LN4

୨୧‎ lando Norris x fem!reader

୨୧‎ summary: lando knows how to push your limits.

୨୧‎ warnings: jealousy, tension, kinda (small kinda) sub!lando, switch!reader, public sexual activity. edited but probably some missed errors

୨୧ a/n; I haven’t written anything in so long, so I’m sorry if this is shit. I’m trying to get back into writing

Lando knew you were possessive about certain things that were yours, and him, well he was the prime example of that. And he fucking loved that.

He knew the correct way to get under your skin and push those buttons. He knew the correct way to use your possessiveness to get you act crazy enough to get exactly what he wanted from you.

Attention and focus on him

He grabbed the closest girl that was near him and pulled her into him. He touched every inch of her, but kept his hands at a safe distance from where she clearly wanted him the most. He kept his gaze on you from across the bar. A stupid smirk laid on his lips as he saw just how red you’d gotten even from the quite distance you both shared.

He moved his hands down her back, touching her hot and sweaty skins. He cringed at the feel, but continued to play the game. She turned around and placed her hands on his shoulders and pulled him in closer, so close he could smell the strong scent of alcohol and cigarettes.

“Wanna get out of here” her voice was practically a moan as she tried to lean forward and bite his neck. He pushed her away once he saw you stand up straight from the bar. He chuckled and walked away from the dance floor, making a beeline to you.

“What’s wrong love?. you look a bit flushed” he placed the back of his hand against your forehead feeling just how warm you’d gotten. “You’re very warm, you feeling sick” he teasingly asked, ordering a drink from the bar.

“I hate you” you muttered under your breath, body relaxing after seeing the girl who was still waiting for him to return to her, walk away after she saw him return to you.

“She wanted to fuck you, you know right’’ you took the shot he’d ordered and drank it.

“Of course i knew, wanted to see you break into pieces before you got to where you are now’’

You rolled your eyes at him. “Oh, honey. You’re in huge trouble” he sucked in a deep breath. his face turning more redder than it was before. You ran your fingers up and down his leg, chuckling when you saw his chest start heaving fast.

“You know I hate when you do shit like this lando” you nibbled on his ear, hand disappearing underneath his white dress shirt he wore. He shuddered as he felt your hand trail down his abs.

“Oh, Fuck, I’m sorry” he groaned. His hand grabbing onto your back, pulling you more into him. “Can we leave now” he begged, pants becoming so uncomfortablely tight he wanted them off him.

You laughed and pulled away from him, placing a quick kiss to his cheek. “Nope, you’re gonna feel my suffering honey.’’ You left him at the bar by himself, walking into the crowd of people and grabbed the nearest guy. You turned around and backed into him, dancing to the beat. You let him rub his dirty and disgusting hands all over your body.

Lando felt his heart beat speed up with anticipation and desperation. You continued dancing with the unknown, swinging your hips everywhere and even unbuttoned his shirt so you could feel his abs.

You danced for what felt like forever, until you felt a hand pulling you away from the crowd in a rush.

“we’re leaving’’ you smiled behind his back as he led you outside. His voice was heavy and breathy.

“What’s wrong, did something happen that you didn’t like’’ you jokingly pouted at him, “poor you”

He looked around before he pushed you into the dark alley. Before anything could fall from your lips, he pushed you up against the wall. Lips crashing onto yours roughly.

He pushed your dress up your thigh as he wrapped your leg around his waist. He broke the kiss to place kisses down your jaw to your neck. You moaned throwing your head back against the brick wall as you felt his teeth sink into your neck.

“m’ so sorry” his hand disappeared underneath your dress. Fingertips messing with the black panties you wore. “Do you forgive me, love”

“Debating on whether I should- fuck” you felt him push aside your panties, “what you pulled tonight” he rubbed light circles on your clit.

“Will never happen again, I’m sorry” he spoke against your lips. Biting onto them, causing you to whine in pain. “will you do that again” you laughed, firmly grabbing onto his hair while pushing him down to his knees.

“Baby, of course not. But you bought this onto yourself, now-“ you threw your leg over his shoulder, and tugged up your dress even more as he could settle between your legs.

“You will make it up to me, right” you softly ceased his face.

“Yes ma’am”

[keikikait]

ᴀʟʟ ɪ ᴡᴀɴᴛᴇᴅ (ʀᴀꜰᴇ ᴄᴀᴍᴇʀᴏɴ x ꜰ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ)

read my other rafe series here!

pairing: rafe cameron x f!reader (not au, both are early to mid 20's)

word count: 3k

summary: you're his safe space after stressful days in the outer banks

warnings: friends with benefits, light angst, no outright smut but it's mentioned/suggestive so read at your own risk, cheating??, i promise i don't actually hate sofia, i haven't finished s4 yet so i don't know everything, pining, soft rafe comes out for like four seconds, not proofread

a note: this is my first fic for outer banks! i don't think i slayed with this...

please reblog and like, it means a lot! let me know what you think!

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧

Ever since Rafe met you a year ago, he’s gone to you after everything.

Whenever he’s angry, or stressed, or feeling downright homicidal, he comes to you. He knocks three times on your apartment door before you let him in, pulling him into your arms. Sometimes he doesn’t even knock the third time before you’re throwing the door open and grabbing his hand. It’s almost as if he steps into a portal into another dimension with the way he immediately relaxes in your presence, everything rolling off of his shoulders as he wraps his arms around you. You’re always so soft, and you always smell so good, like that expensive perfume he got you for your birthday.

You’ll hold him for as long as he needs, rubbing his back and lightly scratching his scalp with your nails, it’s the least you could do considering he pays for them every time. He just has one rule. You can’t kiss him. And it’s so hard not to. It’s hard not to grab him and kiss him while he’s thrusting into you, hand on your throat. It’s hard not to kiss him when he rushes inside your apartment, angry tears in his eyes with blood on his knuckles after losing his temper on someone. 

You spend most of your nights waiting for him. Sometimes you stay up all night, waiting for those three little knocks. You spend most of the time asleep on your sofa, hoping he would come to you instead of her. 

Sofia.

At first, he told you Sofia was just a friend, which turned into a friends with benefits. He told you there wasn’t anything serious going on, and that she was just a girl he kept around when he was bored, that she was good for his ever decaying image in the Outer Banks. And you believed him. You fucking believed him. There was a little part of you that wanted to occupy his brain, be the only living space in his head. And when he’s filling up his lungs with a cigarette or some weed he bummed off of Kelce, you wanted to be the only name that’s under his breath. 

You didn’t know the truth until you saw her Instagram post. Her account was private, but you managed to get your follow request approved on your burner account. You spent far too much time scrolling through her never-ending posts and stories, looking for a glimpse of him. You had decided to check her account while eating your breakfast this morning, the spoon clattering out of your hand when you saw her newest post.

It was a photo of her and Rafe, lounging in his new house, with the caption; ‘Soft launching an almost year-long relationship. Happy 8 months, baby!’

Your oatmeal was shortly discarded. You crawled back into your bed, cancelled all of your plans, and decided to hide away from the world until you got over him. 

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧

It was almost 10 PM when you heard the three little knocks.

Rafe stands on the other side, hands shaking slightly. What was taking you so long? He bangs twice more before you finally open the door. 

You hold the door open just wide enough so he can see you, keeping your hand firmly on the doorknob. “Hey.”

“Hey.” He doesn’t sound like his usual self. He sounds drained, the bags under his eyes more pronounced than usual. He’s wearing a pair of black jeans and a hoodie, a gold chain around his neck that glitters in the light. It feels like forever before he speaks again, eyes not meeting yours. “Can I come in?”

You should say no. You should turn him away. You were the other woman, after all.

But you let him in, stepping aside, biting the inside of your lip.

Rafe sighs, relieved. He really didn’t want to stay somewhere else tonight. Quietly, he slips past you, going straight for your sofa. He plops himself down, immediately kicking his shoes off and burying his head in his hands, elbows on his knees. You shut the door and lock it, hesitating before walking over to him, standing next to the sofa. You almost move to sit next to him, nervously picking at the skin around your thumbnails.

He doesn’t notice you hovering over him, too lost in his own head. He looks like a complete mess. Rafe is usually so put together, always straightening his hair until it’s just right and tugging on the sleeve of his designer sweatshirt if it’s even a centimeter out of place.

“You okay?” You eventually say, and you regret the words as soon as they leave your mouth. You shouldn’t have even let him in.

“What do you think?” His tone is bitter, but you can tell there’s no real bite behind it. He still refuses to look up, his fingers lacing together and gripping his hair almost painfully.

“Don’t do that.” You immediately say, reaching out and grabbing his fingers. “Don’t rip your hair out.”

He flinches for a moment, not expecting you to touch him. He glances up at you, his gaze meeting yours for a second before he looks away again, his shoulders slumping a little as all the fight leaves his body. Rafe doesn’t pull his hands away, instead he just moves them out of his hair, allowing you to hold his hands.

He looks so disheveled it almost hurts.

You sit down, continuing to hold his hands. “What’s wrong?”

He doesn’t respond at first. Instead, his thumb brushes against yours, absentmindedly. “We got into a fight. Me and Sofia.” He admits quietly. It shouldn’t make your heart leap into your throat, but it does. You shouldn’t be happy that he and his awful girlfriend are fighting.

“I’m sorry.” You say, brushing your thumbs over the back of his hands.

He sighs heavily, leaning his head against the back of the sofa. “It just… It didn’t use to be like this, y’know? We were just friends, and we were just messing around.” His tone is bitter, almost annoyed. “Now she wants me to be her boyfriend and everything is… different. And I don’t like it.”

Your eyes widen ever so slightly. At that moment you feel a glimmer of hope, that maybe he didn’t want to date Sofia, and that he actually wanted to be with you. “What happened?”

Rafe closes his eyes as he tilts his head towards the ceiling, like it’ll help him remember. “She was nagging me all day. Nag nag nag. I was trying to work, she wanted to go on a date.” He pauses just for a second to take a deep breath, his brow furrowing slightly when he releases it. “She started being a brat. ‘Oh, but you always make time for her!’” He says the last part in a high-pitched mocking tone.

“You can talk to me, if you want.” You slide your hand into his, intertwining your fingers. “You’re always welcome here.”

Rafe stares at your interlocked hands, biting the inside of his lip. He hesitates for a second before giving your hand a small squeeze. “I told her I didn’t feel like going on some stupid date, and she started acting like a baby. She said… she said if I wasn’t going to act like a boyfriend, I shouldn’t get to have all the benefits of having a girlfriend.” He says the last part with a scoff, anger making its way into his voice again.

You squeeze his hand. “Do you want to stay here tonight?”

Rafe finally looks back at you, his brow furrowing again. “Yeah. I don’t want to be home with her right now.” You didn’t know they lived together.

You hope it means as much to him as it does to you that he’s staying here. 

You lead him into your bedroom, pulling out the spare clothes that he keeps here. He changes in front of you, as he always does, and you have to stop yourself from staring. Part of you feels guilty for letting him stay here while his girlfriend was at home, waiting up for him.

You start to overthink. You want Rafe here. You don’t want him to go home, especially not to her. But you don’t want to be the other woman, you don’t want to make an enemy out of Sofia. “Rafe, maybe you should--” You start to say before he suddenly grabs you, throwing you onto your bed and climbing on top of you.

“Don’t.” He interrupts you, pinning your wrists to the mattress as he moves in to lay between your legs. He looks down at you, his brow still furrowed. “I don’t want to talk about her or hear her name. I just want to forget about her.” He leans down towards your neck, breathing in the scent of your skin. “I need you.”

“You have me.” You say softly.

He shakes his head. Something in him shifts as he starts tugging on your shirt, trying to pull it off of you. He seems desperate, desperate for you and to feel your skin against his. “You don’t get it.”

You lift your arms so he can pull your t-shirt off. “You need me, Rafe, and I’m here. I’m always here.” Your expression falls, growing slightly worried as you see his eyes turn red, tears starting to well up.

Rafe shakes his head, the motion almost desperate.  “No,” he answers, his fingers tracing the soft skin around your ribs. “I need you. I need you in a way that I’ve never needed anyone before. I need to be so close to you that we’re a single being. I need my skin against yours with no boundaries between us. I need—”. He slowly pushes you onto your back, moving to hover over you as his hands continue to roam, moving to caress your sides and hips. “I need to feel you against me,” he whispers. “I need your skin on mine until there’s no way to know where you begin, and I end.”

You’ve never wanted to kiss him so bad. You reach up and cup his face, brushing your thumb over his cheekbone. "You have me, honey. In every way you want. I'll always be here."

He presses his face against your palm, closing his eyes and nuzzling into your touch, chasing after the gentle sensation of your hands against his skin. He swallows hard, his throat bobbing as his eyes open again to meet yours. He presses closer against you, his forehead dropping to rest in the crook of your neck. He lets out a shaky breath. “Baby,” he whispers, voice cracking slightly before he stops, his fingers digging into the flesh of your thighs as he tries to hold himself together.

“What?” You ask softly, your hand moving up behind his head.

“I… I can’t take this anymore.” Rafe presses himself even closer against you, his entire torso pressing against yours as his arms wrap around your middle, his fingers tracing the skin of your back. “Sofia.” He says her name like it’s a curse, his grip on you tightening. “She’s controlling and clingy and demanding. I have to go where she wants, do everything she wants, and I can’t say no to anything, or she throws a tantrum. I hate it.”

“Don’t think about her.” You say softly into his ear, rubbing the back of his neck with your thumb. “She’s not here. I am.” 

“I know,” he whispers, and the words come out so close to him moaning that it sends little sparks directly to your core. “God, I know. You’re all I can think about. You’ve been all I can think about since I met you.” 

A moment of silence passes between you, only the sound of his ragged breathing filling the room until he speaks again, sounding more desperate this time. “Kiss me, please.”

Your eyes widen, your heart almost stopping. “What? But Rafe, you told me I couldn’t.”

“I don’t care.” His voice is firm, his hand moving up from your back to cup your cheek, forcing you to look up at him. His eyes are dark, the deep blue practically black in the low light of the room.  “Please. I need to feel something that isn’t her against me. I need to feel you. Kiss me, please, kiss me, please—” His words break into a desperate plea, his hand pressing against the skin of your back almost frantically.

He sounds so desperate, it makes your heart ache.

You cup his cheeks and kiss him, going softly at first.

Rafe immediately melts into your touch, his entire body relaxing in response. His hands start to roam again, his fingertips tracing the curve of your waist, the skin on the underside of your thighs, the flesh of your back. He can’t stay still, touching every inch of you that his hands can reach as he kisses you like the taste of your mouth is the only thing that will save him from drowning. His tongue swipes along your bottom lip, begging you to give him more as he pushes your legs open. He grinds himself against you, reaching down to pull your panties off. He pulls away before ripping the soft purple cotton in half, shoving the remnants into his pocket. He sits up on his knees, tugging his sweatpants down, smirking at you when your eyes linger on his bulge.

He tugs his boxers down and goes to climb on top of you again when you stop him. “Condom, Rafe.”

That stops him in his tracks, his eyes widening slightly and his cheeks turning pink as he looks down at you. “I didn’t—“ He swallows hard, his throat bobbing obviously as he looks almost guilty. “I didn’t bring one.”

“Dresser.” You say. “Top drawer, by the socks. Big box of ‘em.”

He immediately scrambles off of the bed, his fingers trembling slightly as he pulls open the drawer, digging through it before finding the box. He picks up the box, his fingers drumming against the lid for a moment before popping it open. He glances at you as he pulls one out, tossing the box onto the floor next to a discarded sock without bothering to shut the lid. “How often do you bring guys back here?” He asks, more accusatory than he intended for it to be.

“Not for other guys.” You say. “You just never bring any.”

“Oh.” He seems to relax a little at that answer, swallowing hard and looking almost sheepish as he turns around, holding it up between two fingers.

He looks so handsome walking over to you, now.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧

Rafe fucks you so good, you almost tell him you love him.

Your legs are still shaky the next morning as you make your way around your kitchen, preparing some breakfast. You hear him padding through your apartment before coming up behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist and pressing his chest against your back. You lean against him as you cook, reaching up with your free hand to cup his cheek.

You sit in comfortable silence.

Until Rafe’s phone dings.

He sighs, pulling it out of his pocket. He opens the message and reads it, chewing on his bottom lip.

“Something wrong?” You ask.

“It’s Sofia.” He says.

You tighten your grip on your spatula. “Is it?”

“Yeah,” Rafe sighs, kissing the back of your head. “I gotta go home. I promised her a brunch date on the mainland.”

You freeze, but just for a second. “You’re going back to her? Even after what we talked about yesterday?” You turn the stove top off and set your spatula down, turning to face him.

“Yeah. She’s my girlfriend.” Rafe says.

You’re speechless. Were you being delusional last night? Did you dream it all? “But… I thought you said that you didn’t like being her boyfriend.”

“I don’t.” Rafe says, sighing. He tilts his head slightly. “She’s good for appearances, for my reputation.”

“But you don’t need her to have a good reputation.” You argue. “Just try to not fight every Pogue you see, and your reputation will skyrocket.” 

“You don’t get it, baby.” Rafe says, starting to get defensive. “I need her. Whether you like it or not, I need to play pretend with her.”

“But is it worth it?” You ask. “Is it worth being unhappy?”

“I’m always unhappy!” Rafe says. “I’m kinda used to it, sweetheart.”

You scoff. “Are you unhappy with me?”

“No, of course not.” Rafe says quickly. “Don’t be stupid.”

You sigh. “Rafe, I just don’t understand your reasoning.”

“It’s just for appearances.” Rafe says. He can feel himself getting angrier and angrier, but he has to hold himself back, stop himself from snapping at you. He reaches up and tugs on his hair again. “God, what do you want from me? What do you want me to do, huh?”

You suck in a short breath. You haven’t seen Rafe angry in so long, you almost forgot what it was like. “All I wanted was you.”

Rafe purses his lips, looking away. He takes a shaky deep breath, counting to four before releasing, a trick you taught him. He takes a step towards you, watching you flinch slightly. “No, don’t…don’t flinch, baby. You know I’m not gonna do anything.” He reaches out, cupping the back of your head, threading his fingers through your hair before pulling you closer. He kisses your forehead before sighing, leaving his lips against your skin.

“It’s just for appearances.” He whispers. “I promise.” He kisses your forehead again before pulling away, cupping your face. “I’ll be back tonight, okay? Please promise me you’ll stay up.”

You nod.

Rafe sighs, lightly squishing your cheeks, his voice low and soft. “Words, sweet girl.”

You shiver, leaning closer. “I promise I’ll stay up.”

“Good girl.” His voice is almost a whisper as he pulls you closer, kissing your forehead yet again. “I’ll be back soon.”

He leaves as quickly as he entered, shutting the door behind you.

You let out a shaky breath before turning the stove top back on and continuing to cook.

You were going to stay up. You would be stupid not to.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧

let me know what you think!

part two is here!

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Death Wish 2

Warnings: non/dubcon, mentions of crime, violence/abuse and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: mob!Bucky Barnes

Part of the mob drabbles au

Summary: you’re desperate for a way out of your life and you ask a powerful man for help (plus!reader)

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

Photo Inspo

You don’t sleep. Most nights after one of your father’s fits, you don’t. You’re not sure if your sisters did either. They don’t look like it. 

There’s a ritual after night like those. You get up in silence and meet in the hall. There is no conversation. You each go about your day and try to forget. The bruises aren’t acknowledged and if you’re expecting company, you know how to cover them up. 

Adrienne sweeps as Kitty clears away any clutter. You go to the kitchen and start breakfast. You work quietly and quickly. You move dishes so they don’t clink and carefully put the pan over the burner so it doesn’t make more than a soft clack. Your father is at his worst when he’s been awakened. 

Kitty drops one of your father’s cigar butts in the bin. You glance over at her as you count the bread slices. 

“Two each, four for daddy,” you mutter.  

He always gets more and if he doesn’t, he’s sure to remind you of where everything comes from. You children are like leeches! Grown enough that you should be out on your own, yet he wouldn’t dare to let you leave. You can’t abandon him after your mother died, what kinda daughter... 

You mix up the eggs and milk, with a touch of cinnamon and a drop of vanilla. All of it is carefully measured and rationed. You’re running low on everything else. French toast is the meal that denotes your overdue for a grocery shop. Whenever it is that your father decides to dole out all that money he brags about. 

Adrienne hangs the broom up in the closet and offers to help. You tell your sisters to sit at the table and wait. You’ll start cooking with your father gets up. He hates cold food. So, you wait in a sombre vigil for that creak in ceiling. 

Your father’s door hits the frame harshly and his feet thump down the hallway. His descent on the stairs is staggered and just as heavy. A wisp of cigarette smoke precedes him into the kitchen. Adrienne and Kitty stand to wish him good morning, you echo them, your skin on fire. 

As you see your father’s haggard scowl, that loathing swells in your chest, but more, that fear. His sleepy eyes scan the room as he offers no responses to the daughters he claims to be both his greatest achievement and his most awful burden.  

As he looks at you, you gulp. Can he see what you did? Does he know? He always knows everything. He always finds something to be mad about. Did he hear you climb out the window? Or back in? Could he smell the night air you let in with you? 

“Coffee,” he snarls. 

Relief washes over you but only so far. You have to hold onto that caution. You can never let your guard down. 

You get him his italian roast as he sits at the table. Adrienne and Kitty sit with him, heads down, hands folded in their laps. You work to get the toast ready. His loud slurps and hacking coughs are the only noise in the tense lull. 

You bring the stack of fried bread and the bottle of table syrup over. You put it in the middle, the place mats already set with plates and cutlery. You father stares expectantly at the food. 

You put four slices on his plate for him. He grabs his fork and stabs two more, claiming them for his pile. You don’t say anything. Those would be yours but you’re not very hungry. You smile at your sisters. 

“Dig in, don’t let it get cold,” you say. 

Your brittle tone crackles as your father grumbles. “No sugar?” he sneers. “Your mother always had that sugar.” 

“Sorry, father, I don’t have any--” 

“And the cheap shit,” he grabs the bottle of syrup. 

“They didn’t have any of the real maple but next time I go--” 

“I need smokes,” he growls. “Add those to the list.” 

You’re hopeful that that means he’ll give you the shopping money, otherwise you’ll be down to the last of the flour for tonight’s noodles. You may even have to cute some black spots off the old tomato in the crisper. 

“Yes, sir,” you answer diligently. “More coffee?” 

He only shoves his mug toward you. He growls at your sisters and they grab their servings. You give them a look over his head. It’s okay, eat. You all take your turns in sacrifice to keep the others going. There’s enough cough; it’s a suppressant. 

The old doorbell chimes as you bring your father his second cup. He grunts and keeps on as he is, cutting into the eggy bread and sopping up the syrup he was just complaining about. You don’t wait for his command. If he has to say, he has to re-teach you. 

You hurry from the kitchen and to the front door. You pull it open, expecting Mr. Cassidy to be offering up his old newspaper. The elderly old man wanders door to door, not wanting it to go to waste. He likes to talk about the baseball scores. 

It’s not him. 

“Mr. Rogers,” you greet the number two, your shock laced into your tone. 

He looks down at you dully. You only recognise his posture and his eyes. His hair is longer and darker than the last time you saw him. And his expression is like stone. The only man who gives him orders sat behind that desk last night. 

“Warren, he here?” He asks brusquely. 

“Eating breakfast, sir. Would you like some coffee?” 

“Don’t drink it,” he sniffs. “Got a job. Get him out here. Now.” 

You would ask him to come in but it’s easier to take orders. You nod and turn around rigidly. You walk away with a tremor in your fingers. It’s unusual to see anyone above a capo at the door, let alone the underboss.

Is it a reminder of what you did? A threat for you not to do it again? 

“Daddy,” you stop just inside the doorway. “There’s someone here--” 

“Tell Carlos to hold his fucking horses,” your father snarls. 

“Daddy, it isn’t...” you nearly choke on your words. You don’t know who to fear more. Your father or the man waiting outside. “It’s Steve Rogers.” 

It’s his turn to gag. He coughs and spits out his mouthful. He gives you a wide-eyed glare and stands. He adjusts his robe and reties it. 

“You better not be fucking with me,” he grits as he approaches you. 

You just shake your head. He shoulders past you so roughly, that your other arm hits the door frame with a crack. It’s your fault that he’s unready to face the boss. It’s your fault that this unexpected guest is waiting for him. Always your fault. 

Kitty and Adrienne look at you with concern. You go to the table and sit. You know better than to listen in. Unless you want your ears boxed in. 

“Hey, you can have some of mine,” Adrienne offers a slice. 

“Not hungry,” you sit and stare at the wall. Your stomach is going wild. What if Barnes sent Rogers because of you? What if he’s telling your father about your betrayal? 

“What do you think he’s doing here?” Kitty whispers. 

You shake your head. It’s not your business, don’t make it. That’s how people get hurt. 

You already went to far...

Finally, the front door snaps shut. Your father’s lumbering steps return to the kitchen and he lights another smoke as he enters. His grin is unsettling. You sit, breath bated, and wait for him to grab a spatula or the broom. He knows. 

“Looks like I'm on my way up, girls,” he proclaims as pats the pocket of his robe. It bulges from within. “Got a job outta town. And a bonus.” He sits and puffs on the cigarette, “go buy some real fucking syrup.” 

He lets the cigarette hang between his lips as he slides out the thick envelope. He counts out several bills and flutters them over the table. You stare in disbelief. Even if you haven’t been given up, this is a clear message; know your fucking place. 

[anaon-ash]

☠︎︎🕸𖤐 𝐭𝐨𝐱𝐢𝐜 𖤐🕸 ☠︎︎

𝙃𝙖𝙢𝙯𝙖𝙝𝙏𝙝𝙚𝙁𝙖𝙣𝙩𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙞𝙘𝙓𝙍𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧! 𝙩𝙤𝙭𝙞𝙘 𝙚𝙭 𝙗𝙤𝙮𝙛𝙧𝙞𝙚𝙣𝙙 𝘼𝙐

Contains: Explicit language, Gaslighting, Use of pet names, Use of Y/N, Drugs/Alcohol, Smut (Established Relationship obviously)

Summary: Hamzah sits outside of your house at 2am and texts you from a text now number (you blocked him lol). He asks you to come outside and invites you over for a drink and a blunt and to talk, but you know exactly where this is really going and you fold anyways.

Authors note:THIS IS SUPERR LONG so im sorry, i was rlly scared to publish this as this is my first written work on tumblr so i really hope you all like it and let me know how you feel about it! enjoy it, freak

The quiet rumble of the engine of Hamzahs car reverberates throughout the silent neighborhood in the early hours of the night before it stops in front of your house. He picks up his phone and navigates to the text now app, his finger hovers above it, unsure if he should go through with his intentions tonight.

You and Hamzah struggle staying away from each other, you dated for 2 months before you had your first of MANY breakups, on and off. He was toxic, and that brought out the worst in you. It felt like it impossible to go a week without arguing and you could never really pinpoint if it was your fault or his, he’s a manipulator, possessive and controlling of you and you hate it. You hate that you can’t do anything, you hate that somehow ALL of your friends are bad for you, you hate how he talks to you, you hate how he hurts you and does something that makes it ok then you forgive him just as quickly as it happened. And you especially hate that you know all of this and somehow you keep falling for it.

That’s why you weren’t surprised when you heard a notification that woke you up at 2 am.

————————

Unknown Number

“Come outside.”

“Who is this?”

“You know exactly who this is, come outside y/n”

“I just want to talk.”

————————

“Oh my fucking god.”

You set your phone down and ran your hands through your hair, balling your fists up in the strands. You dont know if you can forgive him after what happened in your last argument that led up to yet another breakup.. And honestly…You dont know if you can take this splitting up and reconciliation cycle anymore either.

You drop your hands to your sides and sigh loudly.

“If i go out there… it’s going to be to end whatever we have going on… i can’t do this anymore.”

You sit up and grab your phone, sliding your feet into the slippers by your bed, they were soft and provided you something to use to ground yourself.. to remind yourself that this time, isn’t going to be like the last times..

You take a deep breath and walk downstairs, grabbing your house keys from your coffee table and softly closing and locking the door behind you. Stepping outside you feel the cold breeze of the beginnings of a blizzard.

It was dark, only the light from the lampposts outside and hamzahs headlights were visible. Slowly You began to walk to his car, psyching yourself up into being strong and setting boundaries for once.

You lightly tap on the window, and hamzahs gaze meets yours, the corners of his mouth pulling into a smirk before pressing the button to unlock the door.

“Hey.” his voice calm and laced with something softer than normal. “Hi hamzah.” You reply stedily, closing the door and plopping down into the seat.

You missed this car, it was an older beat up red honda with lord knows how many miles on it and lord knows how many memories. The cloth on the seats were covered in burn holes from all of the joints and cigarettes smoked in it, and it smelled like those same cigs poorly covered up by one of those little trees you put on your rear-view mirror.

You look around and you can still see the reminants of the stickers you put on his dash and notice he still has the poloroid picture of you and him still on his sun-visor.

Both of you sit in silence for a moment, simply taking each other in, he’s wearing black sweats and a stupid hoodie with the words“nap queen” on it. His hair is just finally starting to grow out after he shaved it and bleached it blonde, its definitely one of his best looks.

“How are you..?” He finally asks after a pause “Hamzah. please.. I came here to talk and talk only. Don’t try to make this into something it isn’t.” You cautioned, sounding more like you were trying to convince yourself more than him.

“I didnt want to feel like a divorced couple begrudgingly speaking to each other over the shared custody of their kids” Hamzah chuckled

“I was hoping this could be casual and we could maybe smoke a little” he smiled before pulling a joint and mini bottles of alcohol out of the middle console “And I have some shots too if you’re down.”

“I dont know hamzah..” You mumbled “Come on y/n.. This doesn’t have to be hard.” He pleaded, slightly tilting his head to the side and gazing into your eyes “we can take it easy..”

He was so good with his words, so good at convincing you of anything..

You bit the skin off your lip and looked away at the ground and thought about his proposal before you hesitantly agreed. “Fine. But im serious. im only here to talk about what happened and…”

You clench your jaw before stopping yourself from speaking.. There’s no way you can tell him you want to go no contact right now right off the bat.. Maybe after a joint and a few shots you’ll have a bit more courage.

“And?” he questioned. “Nothing.” You stated, before you took the 2 mini bottles of fireball from his hand and downed them, his eyes widened and looked at you clearly shocked “okay! yeah! that works.”

He quipped, placing the joint between his lips and lighting it cautiously. The lighter illuminated his features with a soft orange glow, highlighting his plump lips, his sharp jaw, and focused eyes. He takes a few puffs trying to get the ember to catch before handing it to you and placing his hand non-chalantly behind the headrest of your seat.

Hamzah watches intently as you take your first toke and inhale, the smoke filling your lungs almost without any control before you exhale, coughing and gasping before you grab the nearest room temperature half dranken waterbottle in his cupholder and guzzle it down.

You could see hamzah stupidly grinning in your peripheral vision at your reaction and you couldn’t help but to crack your first smile since you entered his car.

You felt the tension you first had, start to dissipate and the energy of the space changed into something else, something more relaxed. The weed and the alcohol were combining into something beyond you.

“There you go.. that’s the pretty girl I know..” Hamzah softly spoke, there was a permanent smile etched onto your face and you didn’t even realize it..he reached out and lightly took the joint from your fingers, your hands slightly grazing one another.

in your excited state, it felt like lightning, all your senses were amplified by 100 and you could feel.. everything. your ankles slightly exposed from your pjs, the breeze of the heater, the texture of the armrest, and hamzahs scent, you felt so much all at once, and you didn’t know how to handle it.

Hamzah puts the joint back into his mouth and takes a few more puffs before rolling down the window and putting it out on the outside of his door, You hiss at the temperature change, the harsh wind numbing the tips of your fingers and chilling the front of your face.

“sorry..” he replied, a lopsided grin tugging on the corners of his lips as the effects begin to take hold of him as well

“M’k lets talk…” You say, trying to remind yourself why you’re here. “More casual now.. according to your wishes.” You say sarcastically

“Yes.. more casually now.” He quips back “First… I wanted to say that im sorry for our fight.. And im sorry for the way that I talked to you.. I should’ve listened to you. And im sorry for lying to you too.. I wont even try to defend staying out so late and not telling you where I go, and im sorry for taking advantage of the trust you had for me, I never purposely wanted to hurt you princess..” he confessed, and without warning you feel the corners of your eyes start to sting and then start to well up with tears from his words.

“You mean the absolute world to me and no late night out or time with friends can ever compare to how much i value you, you’re an amazing woman and im only rough with you because I love you.. I love you so much and I can’t help it, I can’t help how selfish I am..how much I need you.. I promise it was a stupid mistake ill never make again. I can’t lose you.” Hamzahs hand reached out to your face, his calloused touch sending shivers down your body and a familiar heat beginning to build within yourself. “Give me another chance.. Just one more… I wont hurt you like this ever again.” Hamzah pleaded, wiping the tears from your eyes.

You could barely think anymore.. the combination of the alcohol and weed, his words and his touch, it was all so overwhelming, your heart is racing and your whole body felt like it was vibrating, you knew this was just another apology, the same ones he gives just before doing the same shit again a couple of days later, but its almost as if your mouth seemed to speak before you could think, or maybe… You believed it.

“Okay…” you say nearly breathlessly, both of you sat in silence, just staring at one another, all that you could hear was the music softly playing from the radio and the combined sound of you twos heavy breathing.

His hand moved down to your jaw, his thumb grazing over the soft skin of your lips, dipping slightly into your mouth before spreading your spit over them, and you cant help the groan that escapes your lips, every single touch feels like fire on your skin.

Hamzah noticed your desperation and stifles a chuckle, teasingly, he brings his lips to your cheek, moving down to place kisses along your jawline. You inhale sharply at the sensation, his mouth moving down to your neck, where he started to suck and nibble on the sensitive area, leaving searing marks in their wake, a slow gentle exhale escapes your lips.

Hamzah pulled away, admittedly looking very different, he was completely focused on you, his heavy-lidded eyes filled with an animalistic, desperate energy from your body responding to his touch, he wanted to consume you, to explore every little bit of you, and he didn’t need to tell you he did.

“C’mere..” he mumbled before his lips crashed against yours, both of you moaning into the kiss.

His hands roamed your body like they were trying to memorize every inch of your skin, it felt like lava against you, your spine arched as you took in the taste of weed and his mint gum and his cologne invading your senses.

His teeth grazed your lower lip, biting it and taking it in his mouth as you suck on his upper lip, your tongues danced together, fighting for dominance, and your hands began to wonder too, making their way to the growing bulge in Hamzahs pants.

you palm his errection from the outside of his sweat pants, feeling him taking in a shaky breath from the new-found friction.

“F-fuck.. your hands feel so much better than mine.” He whined against your lips, his hips lifting to meet your touch as his grip on your waist tighten.

“Yeah? you like when i touch you like this?” you whispered.

“Mhm” Hamzah managed to barely hum. “God i missed you so much..”

You giggle at his admission and suddenly stop moving your hand.

“Wh- whyd you stop?” he looks at you with desperation.

“Lets go to the back..” a sultry smile playing on your face, as you turn to climb into the back, you feel a sharp slap across the soft of your ass which earns him a yelp.

“What was that for??” “For making me lose my self control.”

Smirking, you plop yourself down into the seat and wait for hamzah to meet you, after he climbs into the back he pulls you onto his lap and grips your waist, pulling you down onto the tent in his pants, rocking your hips back and forth and his meeting yours trying to find a rhythm.

The both of you are trying not to lose control, slowly grinding yourselves onto one another, hamzahs breathing becoming more unsteady as quiet curses flow from his lips.

“Mmhm baby.. you’re doing so good for me.. just like that..”

His soft praises filled your stomach with butterflies and made you bite your lip.

Your next kiss was sloppy, messy, and desperate, the drugs were making even just grinding on one another feel so so good, you both moaned into eachothers mouths as he guided you to move quicker and with more pressure onto his dick.

He tugged at the waistband of your pjs before pulling down, practically trying to rip it off of you.

“Take these off, now.”

You obliged and lifted your legs up, not even bothering to take it all the way off as the fabric pooled around one ankle, and Hamzah took his off just as quickly, leaving the only thing separating you two being thin pieces of fabric.

You felt your own slick leaking through, coating his clothed cock as you throw your head back.

“There.. you.. go… does my big dick feel good on that pretty.. clit of yours?”

he managed to choke out through groans of pleasure.

“Y-yes.. fuck- yes Hamzah..”

“i can’t take it anymore i need to be inside of you, you’re soaking my Cock.”

He roughly grabs your ass and digs his fingers into the fabric of your underwear before ripping it off of you and roughly pulling his cock through the hole of his boxers, he sits you down on it and moves your hips forward and backwards.

You feel the heat radiating off of him as you slide along his member, the feeling of it rubbing against your clit was almost enough to make you cum on top of him.

“fuck- i can’t- its too much..” you cry out

“you can take it..i know you can.. i know it feels good, i know….”

“i need you so bad” You pant.

“Then watch it go in.. inch by inch, baby.”

He aims the tip of his dick up to your opening and slides it slowly in, it’s a tight fit and you can feel him filling you and stretching out until you reach the base.

Both of you sigh at the feeling of shared pleasure, his eyes are unfocused, glossy, breathing ragged, and he’s holding onto you tight.

“Wait.. wait..dont- oh god..don’t move, i’m so close already- i didn’t think you would be so tight..” he confessed

You wait a bit before you slowly start to ride him, adjusting to his size every movement is hitting your g spot in just the right place, Hamzah pulls you close and raises your shirt up to take your breast into his mouth, sucking on your nipple as he thrusts into you.

You scream out in ecstasy, unable to form a sentence only letting out lewd sounds.

“Does this feel good?”

“Hah- ah-“ You nod your head yes

“Use your words baby.. tell me how good i make you feel..” Hamzah groaned

“I-cant… think..im so- im gonna-“

“cum for me.. cum all over my dick princess, it’s all yours, i’m here..”

And with that, you lose all sense of control and the coil deep inside of you finally gives way as pleasure overtakes your body, your walls flutter and tighten around him while a cry escapes your throat.

You throw your head back and dig your nails into his chest and he simply holds you tighter as he fucks you harder and nears his climax

blinding white pleasure engulfs your senses and you can’t control your legs closing tightly to try to stop the overstimulation, but that only fuels his aggression as he forces them open with his free hand and starts to rub circles around your clit with his thumb.

“mhm- fuck- good girl.. take this dick..” he curses under his breath “you’re making me feel so good…im getting so c-close..”

the rhythm you two managed to create became staggered, as his hips lagged behind, his breaths became shallow and quickened and you knew his peak was coming quickly

“y/n- i can’t.. i-im cumming” hamzah moans before he cries out, cumming inside of you and pumping thick ropes of cum along your walls, coating them white with each twitch.

You both ride out your climax before collapsing on one another, chests heaving and basking in the after sex glow, while the sounds of the radio comes back into focus. Hamzah rubs the small of your back slowly, some time passes in silence of catching your breath before you break the silence.

“We cant keep doing this.”

“Why not? it seems to work out just fine every time” He smirks

You roll your eyes and sigh knowing you’re never going to escape him.

I hope you guys liked it! please leave your thoughts in the comments and of course any feedback, i’d love to know what i could change ! 😸😸 also let me know if you’d like shorter or longer stories too!!

[funnyjb]

We Live In Time

…………………………………………………………………………….

“The treatment plan is this, you are to start chemotherapy followed by surgery to remove the rest of the tumor, then chemotherapy again for the final stage of treatment.”- doctors Adams

Joe and yourself sat in the two blue chairs in front of Doctor Adams. His voice sincere and mellow.

“So, chemotherapy then do the surgery and after surgery chemotherapy again?”- Joe

“Yes, correct.”- Doctor Adams

Joe looked at you.

You were still and quiet, picking at your fingers. Do you even want to go through all of this again? Should you? You knew you had to fight, but didn’t know how much strength you could give.

“How…how long would the treatment be?”- you

“Probably around 5 months.”- Doctor Adams

You nod.

“What times would she need to come in? Does she-”- Joe

“What happens if I don’t do the treatment?”- you

Joe looked at you confused.

“Then you will enjoy time with your family and friends. You still can while in treatment.”- Doctor Adams

“Right.”- you nod

——————————-

You guys were walking to the car hand in hand. The weight of the conversation weighed on both of you.

“Joe, I don’t know if I can do it.”-you

Joe stopped.

“I don’t know if I have enough strength to give. I went through this before. I don’t want to go through it again.”- you

“Y/n, it’s your choice, but at least try. You are the strongest person I know. You can do whatever you set your mind and heart to”- joe

“I just…I will do it. I just don’t want to have my last moments on this world having to be inside a hospital room filled with ill people. I want to be able to watch you at games and cheer you on with Bella. Not be in some hospital room.”- you

“Y/n don’t talk like that. You’re not going to die. You can’t.”- Joe

“Joe! Wake up. This is real. I know it sucks and it’s sucks to think about but it needs to be said.”- you

“I know. Let’s talk about this later, but I hear you and I see you. Whatever you decide I will stand by you..”- Joe

Joe kisses your forehead.

“I love you.”- Joe

“I love you too, let’s go home.”- you

Joe opens the car door for you to get in.

————————————————-

7 years ago

The room was filled with sweaty kids and the lingering smell of cigarettes and weird alcohol beverages.

“Y/n! Come here!”- Lily called you over

You nod.

Wearing your black Jean skirt with white tank top and obviously paired with your black converse.

“Y/n, meet Joe and Sam.”- Lily smiles

Sam reached out his hand for you to shake.

“Hi, I’m Sam.”- Sam

“Y/n,Nice to meet you!”- you

Joe then reached his hand.

“Joe.”- Joe

“Nice to meet you, Joe.”- you

You noticed he was kind of quiet.

“They play football. They are pretty good. I was telling them we are going to next week’s game.”- Lily

“Oh! Cool. I’m excited for the game, heard it’s a big one.”- you

“Yeah, against Michigan. Hate those guys.”- Sam

You laugh

“Oh, Sam, let’s go play beer pong!”- Lily

Lily pulls Sam away.

Now it’s just you and Joe.

“So, you play football. What position?”- you smile

“QB2.”- joe

“Wow! Not bad, Joe.”- you

Joe laughs

“I’m a back up. Nobody cares about me.”- Joe

“Don’t say that! I haven’t seen you play, but I’m positive you are a great player.”- you

“Thanks.”- joe smiles

You nod

The music is loud and the sounds of plastic cups falling keep filling the room.

“Where are you from?”- joe

“California. Born and raised in Huntington Beach.”- you

“Wow! That’s nice. I was born and raised in Athens, Ohio.”- Joe

“Oh! Ohio native, that’s nice.”- you

God, why did I say that. “Ohio native”

“Yeah, very different from cali.”- Joe

“Yeah, very different.”- you nod

“Want to go somewhere more quiet? I honestly can’t deal with all of this right now.”- joe laughs

“Sure, it’s a bit Loud for me too.”- you

Joe leads you to his room. The only quiet place where there isn’t shouting and speakers in your ears.

“I like your room. Surprisingly clean.”- you chuckle

“Thanks, I try.”- joe laughs

You then sat on the edge of his bed. Red solo cup in hand and legs crossed.

“Do you have any siblings?”- joe

“A sister. Her name is Spencer.”- you

“Nice.”- joe plays with the pen on his desk

“What about you?”- you

“I have two half brothers. Both way older than me. Jamie and Daniel.”- joe

“Oh, that’s nice. Are you close?”- you

“Yeah, when I was born they were In college, but I try to talk to them everyday even when they give me shit.”- Joe

You laugh.

Joe kept talking. The more you listened to him the more you felt more intrigued by him. His confidence, his demeanor, his humor, and his features. The way the corners of his eyes when he smiles crinkles up. The way he is really passionate about something he will start to get a spark in his eyes and get more excited about the topic.

After that night you guys kept talking more and more. After a while both of you developed feelings. Strong feelings. You guys became each other’s best friends. You guys would always be dying laughing on the floor about something, holding each other’s hands in public, watching the office every night, and holding each other in your sleep and never wanting to let go.

———————————————

Fast forward to present

“Bella, daddy and I want to talk to you about something.”- you pull Bella onto your lap.

You guys were sitting on the couch. Joe next you.

Bella sat up eager to figure out what you wanted to tell her.

You felt tears pricking in your eyes, but you knew you had to stay strong and not scare Bella.

“Mommy is sick. It’s going to be hard for her these next couple months. She will be very tired, but I know we will take care of her and give her the biggest cuddles, right?”- joe

“Yes!”- Bella

You chuckle

“Do you have the flu, mommy?”- Bella

“Um, no sweetie. I have something on my ovaries which is making me sick. I have to get treatment to make it go away.”- You

“But you will be ok, right?”- Bella

You take a deep breath.

“Yeah…yeah I will be ok.”- you

You giver her a kiss on the head.

“Go play with your dolls, baby. Dinner will be ready soon”- Joe

Bella gets off your lap and runs to her room.

A tear drops down your face. You wipe it away hoping Joe doesn’t see.

But obviously he did.

“Y/n-”- Joe

You get up from the couch.

“I’m going to make dinner. pasta and ground turkey sound ok?”- You

Joe doesn’t respond. You’re already gone into the kitchen.

—————————————-

The next couple months was spent going to game and cheering on Joe. The atmosphere was electric. The fans. The lights. The feeling of hope. Of course there were some loses but you stood by Joe and helped him in ways that he couldn’t.

You did your chemo. Going in and out of the hospital.

One day you were sitting on the couch reading a book. A romance novel from one of your favorite authors when Joe sits next to you.

“We should get a dog.”- you

“What?”- Joe

“Or a cat. I heard it’s great for dealing with grief and life adjustments. Especially for kids.”- you

“Y/n, stop. You aren’t going to die. I can’t let you do that.”- Joe

“Joe! You stop. You have to think realistically. It could happen. And if it does I want you and Bella to be able to have an animal that will help you deal with all of it. Like a dog or cat.”- You

Joe stands up

“I CANT LOSE YOU, Y/N! I cant physically be away from you. I just can’t lose you. I wont let that happen. You need to fight.”- Joe

You didn’t know what to say.

“Joe…I’m sorry. Im sorry this is happening. You are the best thing that has ever happened to me.”- you stand up

“You and Bella are my world. I fight every day. On good and bad days to be able to be with both of you. To see you laugh about a SpongeBob joke, to see you hug after a long game, to see you read bedtime stories until Bella’s eyes are tired, I want to be with you and her.”- you

At this point you were full on crying.

“I want to grow old with you. I want to see you win a superbowl and MVP. I want to see you laugh and cry. I want to see your smile the second I wake up and the second I go to bed. I love you even when we fight or argue. I love you when you come home from a loss and don’t even want to say anything. I love you so much it hurts. I’m sorry this is happening. It sucks. But it’s real and I need to realize that.”- you

“I’m sorry too. I’m sorry this is happening. I love you with all my heart.”- Joe

Joe holds you.

You wish you were in a bad dream hoping to wake up.

—————————————

12 months later

“Mommy!”- Bella

“Hey.”- you smile

Bella climbs onto your hospital bed.

“Look what I made you!”- Bella

Bella holds up a card. It you and her with flowers covering the page. It’s also filled with wonky hearts and a “get well soon!”

“Aw, baby, I love it. Thank you so much.”- you pull her in for a hug and a kiss

“You’re welcome!”- Bella

Joe walks around to the other side of the bed.

“Hi.”- Joe smiles

“Hi.”- you smile back

He gives you a kiss

“How are you feeling?”- Joe

“Tired and everything aches.”- you

Joe nods.

“How about we watch something?”- Joe

“Yeah!”- Bella

Bella cuddles in next to you.

Joe moves over the big chair to be seated next to you.

“Alright! Let’s watch Moana? How does that sound?”- Joe

“Perfect.”- you

“Yes!”- Bella

Joe hits play.

As the movie goes on Joe turns to look at you.

Bella was cuddled into your side. She was sleeping and so were you.

He took a mental picture. He held on to that moment.

———————————-

The door opens to the house.

“Teddy!”- Bella

The dog comes running over to her.

“Hi!”- Bella

Bella laughs

“Alright, let’s put your book bag down and let’s make a snack.”- Joe

“Ok, daddy!”- Bella

Bella follows Joe into the kitchen.

“Want some apples and peanut butter?”- joe

“Yes, please!”- Bella

“Coming right up.”- joe picks out the apples from the fridge.

He closes it. He stands there for a second. Looking at the picture hung up from a magnet on the fridge. A picture of you. A picture of all of you.

He smiles.

It’s been a year since you’ve been gone. A year without his wife. A year without Bella having her mom around. A year since both of there life’s been changed forever.

Joe remembered a thing you said to him before you passed.

“I want you to stay strong. I want you to move on, when you are ready. I want you to know I will always be here. In your heart. I will always love you Joe burrow. I will love you forever. I’m sorry we didn’t get to grow old together. But I’m hoping you will grow old with someone else. Someone who loves you just as much as I do. Someone who will make you happy. Someone who makes Bella happy. You are such a wonderful dad. She loves you. She looks up to you. Don’t ever forget that. I love you. I know you will go on and do great things. Stay focused and be the kind loving boy that you are. I love you with all my heart.”

————————————————————

The end.

Authors note: hi!! Hope you enjoyed! I tried to make it as realistic as I could. I don’t know if anyone of you has watched the move “we live I time” but it’s a great one! Definitely recommend!🤍

[keeryhours]

i bet on losing dogs - steve harrington x billy hargrove

Steve Harrington x Billy Hargrove

Main Masterlist

Steve Harrington Masterlist

Billy Hargrove Masterlist

Summary:

Billy and Steve form an unlikely relationship that turns into…more? But they’re not in love, definitely not.

i know i could have loved you

but you would not let me

Warnings:

Smut (18+), mutual masturbation, handjobs, oral (both m receiving), fingering, anal sex (both receiving), spit, cumplay, Steve has very confusing feelings about his sexuality, panic attack, Billy is a dick, angst, the word “cock” is used about a million times

Word Count: 12.5k

A/N:

WOW okay so this is the longest thing I’ve ever written. I feel attached to it! I hope you enjoy. I love hearing your thoughts ❤️

—

Billy Hargrove was fucking infuriating.

It was the way he thought he was better than everyone. The way he was better than everyone. The way he came in and took over Steve’s spot at Hawkins, took over all his former friends and his spot on the basketball team and the ladder of popularity. The way he carried himself with such confidence, the way he wasn’t scared to get up in Steve’s face or even touch him to intimidate him.

And it worked. Steve hated that most of all.

And he hated the way he couldn’t ignore Billy, the way he couldn’t stop thinking of him. The way he’d catch glimpses of his body in the locker room and quickly look away. But Billy always saw. He always watched Steve openly, a smirk on his stupid face. He knew that Steve watched him, and it gave him a sick satisfaction.

Billy liked to play games. When they would be at basketball practice, he would always target Steve specifically, always finding reasons to be as close to him as possible so he could whisper his taunts in his ear. Billy told himself it was about getting under Steve’s skin, but the truth was that he just liked being close to the other boy.

The first time Steve and Billy really talked was after a basketball game. It had been an intense one, Hawkins had won but only barely. Truthfully, Billy had carried the team. Afterwards the team was celebrating in the locker room, and Steve slipped out back for some fresh air.

“Good game,” the low voice had come from Steve’s right. He turned, seeing Billy leaning against the wall with a cigarette in his hand, shirtless with nothing but those little basketball shorts. He didn’t mean to stare.

Billy had smirked, pushing off the wall and walking towards Steve. “You planted your feet.”

Steve looked away, not wanting to admit he’d taken Billy’s advice. “Yeah, well.”

“Worked, huh?”

Steve didn’t want to give him the satisfaction. “Yeah.”

Billy blew his smoke out in Steve’s face. Steve had smoked cigarettes before, but he still hated the smell of the smoke. He coughed as he waved it away. “Can you fuck off?”

“Why?” Billy asked, cigarette hanging from his lips. “Don’t you enjoy my company?”

“Not really, no,” Steve grumbled under his breath. “I wanted to be alone.”

“Don’t want to celebrate with the rest of us?” Billy gently punched Steve’s chest. “Come on, pretty boy.”

Steve’s hand came up over his chest where Billy’s hand had made contact. He didn’t understand the electric feeling it left behind. It was like how Nancy had made him feel, only…different. Stronger. More intense. He didn’t like that at all. “I just didn’t feel like it.”

Billy examined the other boy’s face. “Suit yourself, Harrington.” He flicked his finished cigarette on the ground before beginning to saunter back to the door. “I’ll be waiting for you.”

Steve didn’t know what the hell he meant by that, but he had no plans to rejoin the team. He had too much on his mind, and Billy was a major part of that.

It was a week later when they were assigned to be partners for their history project. Steve felt sick to his stomach when he saw his name next to Billy’s. He didn’t want to have to interact with him any more than he had to.

“I can come to your place after school,” Billy had said after class, seeming completely uninterested. “I can’t fail this project, if I get another F in this class I’m off the team.”

Steve had just nodded. “Yeah, okay. My parents are never home, so.”

That day, Steve sped home from school and cleaned his entire room. He wasn’t sure why he cared so much, but he didn’t want Billy to see his room a mess. He wanted things to seem perfect.

For some reason.

When he answered the door to Billy, he didn’t understand why he felt so nervous. It was just Billy, his annoying teammate/classmate/nemesis. Steve hated being confused by his own feelings.

“This is my room,” Steve had said, leading Billy into his bedroom. Billy made himself at home, flopping down onto Steve’s bed.

“Nice place,” he complimented. Steve found himself blushing - he did live in a nice house, he knew that, but he still felt embarrassed whenever it was pointed out.

“Thanks,” he said, taking a seat next to Billy on the bed. “I guess we should get started?”

They attempted to get started on the project, but Billy was too distracting. Not only did he demand all of Steve’s attention any time he was around, but he was also so fucking annoying. He wouldn’t stop balling up pieces of paper and throwing them at Steve’s head while he was working.

“Can you cut that out?” Steve finally snapped, his head turning in Billy’s direction. “You’re such a child.”

Billy laughed. “It’s getting a rise out of you, isn’t it?”

Steve blushed, turning back to his textbook. “No. It’s just annoying.”

Billy licked his lips, looking over Steve. He loved irritating the other boy, loved the reactions he could get from him. He liked seeing him pissed off. He thought he was kind of cute when he was pissed off.

Steve jolted at the feeling of Billy’s hand on his thigh.

“What- what are you doing?”

“You ever fooled around with a guy, King Steve?”

The question made Steve’s blood run cold. Of course he hadn’t. He didn’t like guys in that way, he wasn’t gay. He’d never had feelings for a guy like that.

“No, of course not,” Steve said, scoffing. “What kind of question is that?”

Billy shrugged. “Nothing to be ashamed about if you had. It’s just sex.”

Steve felt himself blushing furiously. “Well, I haven’t.”

Steve felt a finger on the side of his jaw, turning his head. “Look at me, pretty boy.”

Steve cautiously met Billy’s eyes. The other boy was looking at him so intently, his gaze dropping down to Steve’s lips. Before he knew what was happening, Billy was leaning in and their lips were pressing together.

Steve’s eyes went wide, but between the feeling of Billy’s lips locking with his own and his hand tangling in the back of Steve’s hair, he found himself melting into the kiss. He wondered if this was some kind of trick, some way to humiliate him again, but he couldn’t help the way he leaned into Billy’s touch, the way he wanted more.

It quickly turned into a makeout session, Billy slipping his tongue into Steve’s mouth. Steve met his tongue eagerly, moaning into the kiss as Billy deepened it. Steve’s heart was beating hard in his chest, he still wasn’t sure if he trusted Billy, and he was confused as to why he liked this so much. He was still pretty sure he didn’t have feelings for boys in that way - but Billy was making him feel all kinds of things he’d never felt before.

When Billy pulled away, Steve looked at him wide eyed, like he couldn’t believe what they’d just done. Billy’s expression was relaxed, that cocky smirk still on his face.

“We-“

“It’s okay,” Billy laughed. “It’s okay to like it.”

Billy started coming over pretty often after that. They developed some kind of strange friendship, where they would mostly sit around, talk about basketball or recent parties, and always eventually end up making out on Steve’s bed.

Billy and Steve were shirtless, leaning against Steve’s headboard next to each other. Billy had brought a porno over, telling Steve he needed to stop moping about Nancy so much and realize there were plenty of bitches in the sea.

Now, the porno played on Steve’s small color TV while the two guys sat back watching. Steve felt awkward, he’d never looked at anything like this with someone else around before. He couldn’t help how excited it made him though, his cock hard and straining beneath his shorts.

Billy rubbed his hand over his own clothed cock, watching the scene on the TV intently. The blanket covered their laps, but Steve was still acutely aware when Billy pulled his cock out of his pants and started fisting it. Steve tried his hardest to keep his attention on the TV, but he couldn’t stop looking at Billy next to him through his peripheral vision.

It only made Steve harder. His dick was painfully hard now, the constricting shorts making him uncomfortable. He palmed himself, watching Billy’s hand moving beneath the blanket. If Billy took his out, it wouldn’t be weird for him to do the same, right?

Steve reached a hand into his shorts, wrapping his hand around his cock. It was immediate relief, and he couldn’t help the low moan that escaped his mouth. Billy’s eyes darted to Steve, his hand moving slightly faster.

Steve pushed his shorts down enough to free his cock, pumping it in his fist now but being careful to keep himself covered. He tried to watch the scene on the TV - the girl was getting bent over the doctor’s table now - but Billy’s chest and abs were flexing with every jerk of his hand, and Steve found himself watching the blankets, wondering what Billy looked like.

“You like that, Harrington?” Billy asked, his voice strained. Steve panicked for a minute before he realized Billy had been referring to the video and not himself.

“Oh, yeah,” Steve said, voice weak. If Billy had asked him what color the woman’s hair was, he was sure he couldn’t have told him.

Billy chuckled. “You ever fuck a girl like that?”

“No,” Steve admitted. Most of his sexual experiences had been pretty…vanilla. Nothing like what was happening on screen. Nothing like Billy.

“Are you into anyone?” Billy asked. “Besides Wheeler, obviously.” He looked at Steve for a moment, and Steve wondered how the hell he could look so casual with this going on.

“Um…” Steve said, knowing he wasn’t. “Michelle,” he said, the first girl that came to mind.

Billy snorted. “That shouldn’t be hard.”

It was quiet again for a while, the only sounds the moaning from the TV. Finally, Billy spoke up again. “How would you fuck her?”

Steve didn’t know what to say. “Uh…”

“Don’t overthink it,” Billy said. “How do you think about fucking her?”

“Um…” Steve closed his eyes and tried to picture it. But as hard as he tried, the only thing he could visualize was Billy kissing him again, his lips trailing lower down Steve’s body, lower and lower…

“It’s not a hard question, man.”

“I guess I think about…” Steve thought about what Billy’s cock might look like. “Kissing her, all over her body…” He thought about Billy’s hand wrapped around his cock. “Undressing her, laying her down on my bed, licking her pussy.” He thought about Billy’s annoying mouth kissing down his body until he reached his cock, which was currently throbbing in his hand. “Turning her over, fucking her from behind.” Steve’s hand sped up as he thought about Billy’s lips wrapped around his cock, the way his tongue might feel, those pink lips stretched around his girth. “Cumming in her.” Steve’s head tilted back as he thought about fucking Billy’s mouth, shutting him up, cumming down his throat. He was getting close.

The muscles in Steve’s upper body tensed, his hand moving quickly over his cock, precum providing some lubricant for his hand. His eyes stay closed as he pictures Billy doing all those things to him, and more.

“You close?” Billy asked, breathless.

“Yeah,” Steve whimpered, but he was too far gone to be embarrassed about it.

“Me too,” Billy said. His eyes locked back on the TV, and Steve listened intently to the soft groans he was letting out now. It sent chills up his spine.

Billy let out a louder groan as he came, and it pushed Steve immediately into the most intense orgasm of his life, his cum spilling over his hand and all over his stomach and thighs. A much bigger mess than he usually made.

Steve reached for the tissue box on his side table with his clean hand, taking out a handful and cleaning himself up. Billy grabbed some from the box too, hand disappearing back under the blankets.

Steve wasn’t sure what he was expecting when they were done, but it wasn’t for Billy to stand up from the bed, ejecting the tape and picking up his keys. “I’ll see you around, Harrington.”

“Uh…yeah, see you,” Steve said as Billy’s form was already retreating out of the door.

Steve jerked off another two times that night to the thought of Billy. He was confused and angry. He hated himself afterwards, wanted to slap himself for being so stupid, for even entertaining the idea of being attracted to another man, to Billy. He didn’t know what was happening to him.

Things changed after that.

Steve couldn’t stop noticing Billy now. It was torture. He was always leaned against a locker, talking to Tina or Carol or Lisa, or even Michelle. Not that Steve actually had feelings for her, but Billy thought he did, and still he caught them making out during 3rd period.

It hurt Steve, just not in the way Billy had intended.

He couldn’t stop thinking about kissing Billy. He couldn’t stop thinking about what they had done together. He couldn’t stop thinking about how badly he wished he’d gotten even a glimpse of Billy’s cock that day. And he hated himself for every one of those thoughts.

He tried to bury his feelings in girls from school, even hooked up with a girl from the class above him who was home from college visiting her family. It didn’t help. He still pictured Billy when they kissed, he still thought of Billy when he fucked them. He came to the thought of Billy every time, then felt like the absolute scum of the earth for the way he felt and for using these girls.

Something had to change.

The next time Billy suggested he come over, Steve felt like he had to put a stop to it.

“We shouldn’t hang out anymore,” Steve hissed under his breath, standing in a secluded spot outside of the gym before practice.

“Why not?” Billy asked, unbothered by the news or by the idea of anyone overhearing them.

“Because, it’s not…” Steve looked around. “It’s not right.”

“What’s not right?”

Steve looked at Billy like he was crazy. “Two guys kissing. Us jerking off together. It’s weird.”

Billy chuckled, flicking the ash from his cigarette. “It seemed like you liked it a lot at the time.”

Steve blushed furiously. “I did not like it.”

“You came pretty fucking hard.”

Steve didn’t think it was possible for him to blush any harder. He was completely flustered, lost for words in his anger. And the worst part was Billy wasn’t wrong.

“We just shouldn’t do it anymore.”

Billy shrugged. “Okay. Whatever you want, Harrington.” He stubbed his cigarette out. “Are we done here?”

Steve watched him. Everything in his chest was screaming no, I don’t mean any of it, can you please kiss me again? But he doesn’t say any of that. Instead, he said, “Yeah. We’re done.”

He watched as Billy walked off, the door of the gym closing behind him.

Steve thought ending things with Billy would help. He thought these thoughts and feelings would go away and he could go back to living his life as he was. It didn’t work.

That’s how Steve found himself pacing his room a week later, fingers itching to grab the telephone. His parents were gone for the weekend again, and he wanted nothing more than for Billy to come over. He eyed the phone, wondering just how humiliating it would be to call the other man and grovel. He wondered if what was left of his ego could take it.

He snatched the phone off the receiver, holding it to his ear and listening to the dial tone. His fingers hovered over the numbers. He had the number memorized. But did he really want to do this?

Yeah. He did.

He dialed the number, holding the phone tight to his ear as he listened to it ring. He willed Billy to pick up.

“Hello?”

“Billy,” Steve said. It was all he could think to say.

Billy laughed on the other end of the line. “I’ll be over in 30.”

He hung the phone up before Steve even processed what happened. He felt relieved, but also scared. He didn’t know what would happen tonight, if they would end up going further.

He hoped they would.

When Billy showed up, he was dressed in a button down that was half undone, a cigarette in his mouth as he entered the Harrington house. Steve started to say something about not smoking in the house, but immediately dropped it as he admired the way Billy’s ass looked in his jeans.

He followed Billy up to his own room, locking the door behind them even though he knew no one would be there. Billy made himself comfortable on Steve’s bed, finishing his cigarette and dropping it on his bedside table, getting ash everywhere. Steve was annoyed, but again he didn’t say anything.

“I brought another tape,” Billy said. “Want to watch?”

“I…yeah.”

Minutes later they were back in Steve’s bed, laps covered by the blanket. It was a different scenario on the tape this time, something more Steve’s taste. The girl even looked a bit like Nancy. But that’s not who he was thinking about.

He pumped his cock in his hand, eyes drifting over to where Billy was doing the same. Billy turned, meeting Steve’s eyes, and Steve quickly turned his head. But he’d already been caught.

“Like what you see, Harrington?” Billy teased. Steve opened his mouth for a smart response but every thought was pulled from his head when Billy pushed the blanket back off his lap, revealing his hard cock.

It was beautiful. Thick, so thick, tip red and leaking. He was long, not quite as long as Steve, but nearly. Steve’s eyes were glued to it, and he subconsciously found himself pumping his hand faster. Billy didn’t miss it.

He licked his lips as he slowly began stroking his cock again, watching Steve stare. He put on a show, squeezing his balls, slowly running his hand up the length of his dick, rubbing his thumb over his slit. He brought the precum to his lips and licked it off. Steve groaned.

Neither of them were watching the porn anymore. They were watching each other, and Steve was alarmed at how much more quickly he was approaching his release watching Billy instead. Seeing him stroking his dick. Right next to him.

So fast that Steve didn’t even have time to process, Billy reached a hand over and wrapped it around Steve’s cock. Steve removed his own hand, a strangled cry leaving his lips at the sudden sensation. Billy leaned over, spitting on the tip of Steve’s dick, his hand rubbing it over his length to spread it around. Steve crawled his own hand across the sheets between them until it reached Billy’s thigh, and he moved up, finally gripping Billy’s cock.

Billy hissed, bucking his hips up into Steve’s hand. Steve’s wide eyes darted between his hand on Billy and Billy’s on his own cock, not sure where he wanted to be watching more. “Billy,” he whined, and Billy wrapped his free hand in the back of Steve’s hair to pull him in for a rough kiss.

Billy’s tongue immediately pushed into Steve’s mouth, and they made out messily as they quickly jerked each other off. Billy bit down on his lip, causing Steve to moan into his mouth. Billy reached down to squeeze Steve’s balls in his hand before moving back to pumping his cock.

“Billy…Billy…” Steve whined, bucking his hips up against the other boy as he felt himself get closer and closer.

“That’s it,” Billy said, breathless. “Say my name. I’m the one making you feel this good. Not some girl. Me.”

Billy licked a stripe along Steve’s neck and he came hard, crying out and hips jolting up as his cum spilled all over, coating Billy’s hand.

“Shit,” Billy hissed, grabbing onto Steve’s hand and encouraging him to pump him faster. “Getting close. So close.”

“Wanna see you cum,” Steve said, voice still whiney and pleading.

“Fuck, I-“ Billy interrupted himself with a loud groan as his cum shot out over Steve’s hand, onto Billy’s thighs and the blanket on their legs. Steve watched - he didn’t think he’d ever seen anything so hot.

Billy brought his cum-covered hand to his mouth, licking all of Steve’s spend off of himself. Steve’s jaw dropped - he’d never had anyone do that before. Billy leaned in, pressing his tongue back into Steve’s mouth and forcing him to taste his own cum. Steve eagerly licked the other boy’s tongue clean, swallowing all of his own cum. When they broke the kiss, Billy picked up Steve’s hand, holding eye contact with him as he licked his fingers clean, too.

“Christ,” Steve said, his voice hoarse.

Billy smirked. “I thought you said it was weird to jerk off together?”

Steve blushed. He didn’t know what to say. Now that the excitement was dying down, he didn’t know how to feel. Now not only was he confused about his feelings for guys in general - but his feelings for Billy specifically. That terrified him more than anything.

Billy cleaned himself up, pulling his jeans back on. Steve tucked his own dick back away, not sure where to go from there. That was more than just jerking off together - that was something else. He couldn’t run from his feelings anymore after what he’d just done, and how much he liked it.

Steve started inviting Billy over himself after that. Apparently Billy was a busy guy, because more than half the time he’d tell Steve he couldn’t. He’d usually spend the next day in class hearing about how Billy had rocked some girl’s world.

Steve wanted to know what it would be like for Billy to-

No. Nevermind.

He invited the other boy over again that day after school.

“Sure,” Billy said, surprising Steve. “Why not?”

They didn’t waste any time pretending they didn’t want each other once they made it to the safety of Steve’s bedroom. Billy’s lips were on his immediately, shoving him back against the door with a loud thud. Steve gasped into the kiss, his hands squeezing onto Billy’s broad shoulders.

“You’ve been desperate,” Billy muttered against Steve’s lips. “Beggin’ me to come over every day. Miss my cock that bad?” He rolled his hips against Steve’s then, and Steve gasped as he felt Billy’s erection pressed against his own.

Steve didn’t say anything, his mind turning to complete mush at the way Billy was pressed against him.

“Answer me,” Billy said, pushing Steve against the door harder. The doorknob dug into his back.

“Yes,” Steve admitted.

“Yes what?”

“Yes, I…” Steve swallowed. “I missed your cock.”

Billy smirked, satisfied at that answer. “Well, that’s all you had to say.” He rolled his hips into Steve’s again, causing Steve to moan. “You’re always so vocal for me, Harrington. So easy to make you fall apart.”

Steve couldn’t say anything. His eyes fluttered closed, pushing his hips against Billy’s for more friction on his cock. He was desperate for it, wanted the other boy to touch him so badly.

Billy ran his hands over Steve’s sides, causing goosebumps to cover his flesh. He rested his hands on his hips, pulling him tighter against him. Billy lowered his lips to Steve’s neck, biting and sucking along the skin. Steve moaned, one hand tangling in Billy’s blonde mullet.

Billy left marks all over Steve’s neck that night. Steve was too out of it in his own lust to notice at the time, but Billy knew what he was doing. He would bite down hard on the skin, soothing it with his sinful tongue. Steve melted into his arms.

“Keep yourself together, Harrington,” Billy said. “I’m practically holding your ass up.”

Steve snapped out of his haze. “Shit, I-“

“You don’t have to apologize for liking it,” Billy smirked. “Just tell me how you feel.”

“Felt good,” Steve said, his voice nothing but a breathy exhale.

“Yeah?” Billy rubbed his hand over Steve’s bulge, making him whimper. “You want my hands here?”

“Yes, please.”

Billy leaned in closer until his lips were pressed to Steve’s ear. “How about my mouth?”

Steve shuddered. “W-what?”

Billy slowly dropped to his knees in front of him. Steve watched with wide eyes, Billy never taking his own off of him. He began undoing Steve’s belt, his fingers unbuttoning and unzipping his jeans at an agonizing pace. Looking down at Billy on his knees for him, Steve was pretty sure he’d never been harder in his life.

When Billy pulled Steve’s jeans and boxers down to his thighs, his cock sprung up, long and hard and throbbing. Billy rubbed his own bulge at the sight, licking his lips.

“Look at you,” Billy said. “Such a pretty cock.”

Steve blushed again - god, he was always blushing around Billy. It was embarrassing.

Billy wrapped his hand around Steve’s length, slowly stroking him. Steve’s breath hitched in his throat, his eyes starting to flutter closed again before he forced them back open. He wanted to watch every second of this.

“Feel good, Harrington?”

“Mhm.” Steve slowly began thrusting his hips into Billy’s fist, which was moving much too slowly.

“Eager,” Billy chuckled. “What do you want?”

Steve whined. “Want your mouth.”

“Yeah? What do you want me to do with it?”

“Want you to suck my cock,” he said, his voice getting more desperate by the moment. He had one hand gripping onto the side of his dresser, the other gripping Billy’s hair. He felt like he might fall apart if he didn’t have something to hold onto.

“Who do you want to suck your cock, King Steve?”

“You, please,” he begged. “Please.”

“And what’s my name?”

Steve swallowed. “Billy.”

Billy rewarded his answer by spitting on his cock, spreading it with his fist. Then, he wrapped his pretty pink lips around the head of Steve’s dick.

“Oh, shit!”

Steve’s hips bucked forward harshly at the sudden feeling, his grip on Billy’s hair tightening. He watched with half lidded eyes as Billy looked up at him with his cock in his mouth.

Billy leaned forward, bobbing his head as he took more and more of Steve’s length down his throat. This was better than any girl who had ever given him head. He wondered how Billy had gotten so good at this.

Steve was groaning loudly. Billy had nearly taken all of him, something no girl before had been able to do. His eyes rolled back in his head as Billy took him all, his nose pressed against the soft curls at his base.

“Jesus Christ!” Steve exclaimed as Billy moaned around him, feeling like he could blow his load at any second. He’d never been so close so fast before, never seen anything as hot in his life as Billy Hargrove with a dick in his stupid loud mouth.

Billy cupped Steve’s balls, his dick twitching in his own pants as he sucked him deep. He got sloppy with it, drool slipping from around his lips, but it only made it better for Steve. It was so filthy, so wrong, so good.

“I- I think I’m gonna-“

Steve fisted Billy’s hair tightly and locked his eyes on his as he came down the other boy’s throat, hot ropes of cum spilling endlessly into his waiting mouth. When he finished, Billy pulled off, standing up and smashing his lips to Steve’s again, pushing his own cum back into his mouth. Steve took it without hesitation, moaning as he tasted himself on Billy’s tongue.

“Your turn?” Billy said when he pulled away, a teasing smirk on his lips.

“My-?” Steve’s eyes widened even further, tucking himself back away. “You want me to-?”

Billy rubbed over his obvious erection through his jeans. “I mean, would be nice.”

Steve flushed bright red. “I- I mean, I-“

Billy laughed. “You don’t have to.” He approached Steve again, his lips hovering near his ear. “Even though I know you want to. Don’t you want to know what it’s like?”

He did.

“Okay,” Steve said, voice small. “I’ll do it.”

Billy was smiling that cocky smirk as he moved back, sitting down on Steve’s bed with his legs spread wide. His erection was obvious in his tight jeans. Steve took slow, tentative steps towards him, eyeing him warily like he was afraid of something. Afraid of what?

Billy watched as Steve sunk to his knees between his legs. He reached forward, palming him. Billy hummed lightly, and Steve could feel him twitch beneath his hand. Did Billy want him as bad as he did?

He opened his belt, undid his jeans. Billy lifted his hips so Steve could pull them down his thighs. His thick cock slapped against his ab muscles. Steve noticed the precum at his tip immediately, and before he could think about what to do, he leaned forward and licked it off.

Billy groaned. “You like tasting me, Harrington?”

“Yes,” Steve said, savoring Billy’s taste on his tongue.

“Why don’t you wrap those pretty lips around my cock, then, huh?”

Steve’s cheeks burned. He moved in, carefully wrapping his lips around just the tip. It felt strange. The taste was different - not bad, but unfamiliar.

“Take it deeper,” Billy grunted from above him, his large ringed hand landing on the back of Steve’s head. He started pushing his head down, making Steve gag and pull off of him.

“Aw, come on, King Steve,” Billy said, patting him on the cheek. “You can do better than that.”

Steve glared at the other boy, but moved back to envelop him in his mouth again. He was prepared this time when Billy started pushing his head down.

“Watch the teeth,” Billy hissed. “Open your mouth wider.”

Steve opened his mouth so wide his jaw hurt. Billy was thick, it was hard to fit him all without hurting him with his teeth. But he did his best, and when Billy started groaning above him, he knew he was doing a better job.

“Fuuuck yeah, just like that,” Billy rasped as Steve took him deeper and deeper. “Come on, you’ve almost got it all. You can do it, pretty boy.”

Steve felt like he could barely breathe as he finally fit all of Billy’s cock in his mouth. He felt his tip pressing against the back of his throat, and he tried his hardest not to throw up as he gagged again. Billy laughed.

“Feels so good when you’re gagging on my dick,” he said, stroking Steve’s hair almost affectionately. “Look so pretty like this.”

Steve had tears welling in his eyes, but he kept them locked on Billy’s, needing to know if he’s doing a good job. He’s almost more surprised by the way he’s so desperate for Billy’s praise than he is that he’s currently sucking dick.

God, what the fuck is he doing?

Panic rises in his stomach and he pulls off of Billy again quickly, gasping for air. He thinks he might be hyperventilating as the air never comes no matter how hard he tries.

“Woah, are you okay?” Billy asked, sitting up straight. He held a tentative hand out, but stopped just short of Steve’s shoulder, thinking better of it. The guy was having an actual panic attack. “Hey, Steve - calm down.”

Steve’s head was spinning. He couldn’t catch his breath and he couldn’t calm his racing thoughts. He wasn’t gay, he knew this. He didn’t have feelings for Billy. So what was he doing? What the actual fuck was he doing? He couldn’t face Billy.

“You should go,” Steve said, not able to even look at him.

Billy was quiet. Eventually Steve heard him pulling his clothes back on. “Yeah, okay, man.”

Steve kept his eyes glued to the carpet until he heard the door close and knew Billy was gone. But he stayed on the floor, curled up in a ball, and thought. About a lot of things. About his feelings. About if it was okay to be gay. If he felt like that word even fit him. He did still like girls, after all, even if none of them had caught his attention lately. Even Nancy hadn’t been on his mind.

It had been all Billy. Maybe it had always been all Billy.

—

Steve avoided Billy at school. He would watch from the corner of his eye as Billy flirted with the girls, as the girls around him talked about dates they’d been on with him, how he’d fucked them. It made Steve sick to his stomach.

He asked Michelle out. She said yes. He took her to a movie and to get ice cream afterwards, and she was pretty and sweet, but Steve felt nothing for her. After the movie, he fucked her in the back of his BMW, thinking of Billy the whole time. When the image of him sitting back on his bed with his hard cock out and waiting flashed through his mind, he came, catching himself just in time to not call Billy’s name instead of the girl he was having sex with.

Basketball had become torture. Not only did he have to be around Billy, but they had to be so close. Billy was always shirtless in those tiny basketball shorts that fit him so tightly. Steve had to actively think about anything else to not get hard.

He did his best to avoid Billy entirely in the locker room. He would waste time avoiding the showers until everyone else was done, then he’d sneak in there. That’s what he did today, stripping off his clothes and walking into the showers once he was sure everyone else was gone. He took his time under the water, letting it run over his body and take his mind off his mess of a life.

His eyes shot open at the sound of someone walking in. Panic struck him again as he saw Billy sauntering into the showers, naked with a towel over his shoulder.

“Harrington,” he greeted like nothing had happened between them.

“Hargrove,” Steve finally said, actively avoiding eye contact with his dick.

Billy started the shower next to him and stepped under the water. Despite trying not to look at all, he finds himself watching the way the water droplets fall down Billy’s strong chest, tracing through his pectoral muscles.

Unbeknownst to Steve, Billy was returning every look. His eyes tracing down Steve’s body, looking at his cock with no shame, his chest hair, the delicious curve of his ass.

Steve finished up his shower at the same time Billy was turning his water off. Steve dried his hair as much as he could with the towel and then went to wrap it around his waist, but he was stopped by a pull on the rough fabric.

He turned, finding Billy standing much closer than he had been before, his fingers wrapped around the edge of the towel. Steve furrowed his brow at Billy, prepared to ask what the fuck he thought he was doing, when Billy grabbed him by the hips and pulled him close.

Steve’s eyes widened as he crashed into Billy’s hard chest. His dick was pressed up against the other boy’s, and he felt himself twitch to life.

“What do you want?” Steve whispered. He was close enough that he knew he’d hear.

“I think you’ve missed me,” Billy teased. “Have you come to terms with liking cock yet?”

Steve was, once again, at a loss for words. “I don’t-“

“You and I both know you do,” he said, leaning in slowly until he was placing a gentle kiss at the corner of Steve’s mouth. He slowly trailed his lips across Steve’s jaw until he reached his ear, biting softly on his earlobe. Steve gasped, his eyes falling closed. Billy rolled his hips against Steve’s, their cocks pressing together as Steve felt himself hardening. The last thing he needed was a fucking boner in the locker room showers.

“Do you want to invite me over?” Billy whispered into Steve’s ear.

Steve froze. But, god, what was the point of fighting it anymore? He nodded.

Billy chuckled as he pulled away. “I have a date,” he said. “But I’ll catch you around.”

He swung the towel over his shoulder again and left the showers, leaving Steve standing there dumbfounded. What game was Billy playing with him?

—

He didn’t have another encounter with Billy for two weeks, besides at practice, where he left him alone for once. It was strange. And, god help him, Steve missed him.

He just moped now, worse than when Nancy broke up with him for Jonathan. He was miserable. Tommy teased him endlessly, but Steve knew it would be much worse if he knew the real reason.

Steve was home, working on his homework when his mom knocked on his bedroom door.

“Steve?” She said, poking her head through the crack in the door. “There’s a friend here to see you.”

He was confused. Who would be here to see him? If it were Tommy, his mom would have just said Tommy. “Uh, okay,” he said.

His mom slipped back out, leaving the bedroom door open. Steve watched, but he knew who it was the second he saw that tight denim, smelled the cologne and cigarettes.

“What are you doing here?” He asked, feeling panicked. His parents were home for once. They couldn’t do this, especially not now. His dad would never look at him the same again if he found out what Steve had been doing.

“Came to see you,” Billy said simply. He closed the door and Steve heard the lock click. He slowly began walking towards where Steve sat at his desk, resting his hands on his shoulders.

Steve focused back on his homework - well, looked at it, at least. He couldn’t focus on anything when he felt Billy’s lips on his neck. “Come on, Harrington,” he mumbled. “You did miss me, didn’t you? Aren’t you happy to see me?”

Steve shuddered. “I…I am.”

He felt Billy’s smirk against his neck. “Why don’t you come sit on the bed with me?” He pushed Steve’s homework to the other side of the desk. “Take a break, huh?”

Billy moved away, and Steve slowly stood up from the desk and followed - just like Billy knew he would. He took a seat on the bed next to him, wondering what he had planned this time. What boundary they would push, what line they would cross.

While his parents were home downstairs.

Steve prayed they wouldn’t hear any part of what was about to happen.

They started off kissing again, but Billy’s lips met his softly this time, and they moved together almost tenderly. Steve’s heart beat hard in his chest, his hand resting on Billy’s thigh. Billy reached over to start palming him over his jeans, and Steve began to unbutton his shirt.

He reluctantly pulled away from Billy’s lips to look at his exposed chest as he pushed the shirt off his shoulders. He had the perfectly sculpted body. Perfect abs, perfect pecs, perfect everything. His necklace sat in the middle of his chest, and Steve wondered what the cool metal would feel like against his own skin.

Billy reached for Steve’s shirt next, pulling it over his head. Steve felt a little self conscious - he knew he had way more chest hair than Billy, and so far chicks dug it, but would Billy?

He got his answer fast enough as Billy trailed his hand over Steve’s chest. He started pressing kisses over his neck and chest, and Steve’s eyes fell closed. He moaned, fingers trailing through Billy’s mullet.

“Feels good,” Steve breathed, feeling himself nearly fully hard in his jeans.

“Yeah?” Billy said quietly. He flicked his tongue over Steve’s nipple, making him shudder.

“Yeah.” Billy palmed Steve’s bulge harder, his neglected dick aching in his jeans. He grabbed Steve’s hand and put it over his own cock. Thankfully, he got the memo and started returning the favor.

“Do you wanna suck my cock again?” Billy asked, moving back to look into Steve’s eyes. “You don’t have to.”

Steve thought for a moment. “Yeah…I want to try again.”

Billy grinned, leaning back on his hands and nodding down between his legs expectantly. Steve rolled his eyes, but moved to his knees on the floor anyway. He undid Billy’s belt and jeans, pulling them down his thighs again. He practically groaned at the sight of Billy’s cock again.

Steve leaned forward, gathering the spit in his mouth and spitting it onto Billy’s cock. His dick twitched at the action, and Billy grabbed Steve’s face harshly, forcing him to look up at him. Steve froze, eyes wide as he waited to see what Billy would do.

“Open,” Billy said, and Steve obeyed. Billy spat into Steve’s waiting mouth. “Swallow.”

He didn’t know how he didn’t find it gross, but Steve closed his mouth and swallowed. Billy grinned again. “Good boy.” It made Steve’s dick twitch.

He let go of his face, letting Steve get back to his job. He wrapped his lips around Billy’s cock again, making sure to keep his mouth open wide as he took his thick length deeper and deeper. It was still weird, and if he thought too hard about what he was doing he might work himself into another panic attack, so he doesn’t and just enjoys the moment.

And he loves it. He didn’t realize how much Billy would be at his mercy like this, even despite the way he was grabbing onto Steve’s hair and bucking his hips up into his mouth. It was still Steve who was doing the work, making him fall apart the way he was.

Billy was groaning loudly, loud enough that Steve was worried his parents would hear. He tapped Billy on the thigh, hoping he’d get the hint. He seemed to, because he definitely quieted down, his moans turning breathy and whiney.

Steve took him all the way, only gagging a little this time. “Fuck, good boy,” Billy said, and Steve felt himself come alive from the praise.

He started sucking Billy’s dick in earnest, bobbing his head up and down and making a mess like Billy had done for him. He watched as Billy’s head tipped back, his stomach muscles tightening.

“Shit, gonna cum Harrington,” Billy warned, grabbing Steve’s hair tighter. “Can I cum down your throat?”

Steve hummed in answer, hollowing his cheeks to suck hard, which made Billy cry out a little too loud and buck his hips up. Steve maintained control, moving down to lick and suck at Billy’s balls while he stroked his cock in his fist.

“Oh, Christ,” Billy said. “Fuck, Steve-“

Steve was surprised as Billy came with a strangled groan, his cum shooting out and landing all over Steve’s hand and face. He closed his eyes to keep the cum from getting in them.

“God, you look good like that,” Billy said, chest heaving. “Wish I had a camera.”

“I have one,” Steve said, and he wasn’t sure why. “Top shelf in my closet.”

Steve felt Billy stand and move, heard the closet door open, but he was back as quick as he came. He took his seat back on the bed, and seconds later Steve heard the click and whirr of the polaroid camera.

He heard Billy pull some tissues from the box, then wiped up the mess on Steve’s face. “Thanks,” he muttered, taking a few more tissues to clean his hand.

“Wanna see?” Billy asked, looking at the photo in his hand with a wicked grin. Before Steve could answer, he turned the polaroid around, showing Steve the image of himself, face covered in Billy’s load. He felt his whole body heat bright red.

“You can’t show that to anyone,” Steve said quickly. It was obvious it was him in the picture. The idea of what would happen if it were to get out made him feel sick to his stomach.

“I would never,” Billy said. “You think I share my trophies?”

Trophy.

Before he could think too hard about what that meant, Billy was pulling Steve up and back onto the bed. He pushed him back, kissing him deeply as he slid the photo into his back pocket. Steve fell back onto the pillows with Billy climbing over him. They were both still shirtless, Billy’s pants still half undone.

He started working Steve’s jeans open, pushing them and his boxers down until they were completely off, tossing them somewhere in the room. Steve was completely naked under Billy now, something he hadn’t yet experienced.

Billy’s cock was hardening again as it rubbed against Steve’s. They kissed passionately and eagerly, tongues moving together in practiced rhythm. Steve had lost count of how many makeout sessions they’d had at this point, but this was different. This had him feeling things deep in his chest that really scared him.

Billy reached a hand between them, grasping both their cocks in his large fist. He started stroking them together, and the sensation of Billy’s hand and his cock pressing so tightly against his own had him moaning louder than he intended.

“Fuck- God, Billy-“

“Like that?” Billy breathed. “So pretty when you blush for me like that, Harrington. Such a pretty boy.”

Billy placed sloppy kisses all over Steve’s neck, chest, and stomach, working his way down. He was just about to lick along the underside of his cock when there was a knock at the door.

“Steve? Everything okay in there? I heard some weird noises.” Steve’s mom turned the doorknob, finding it locked.

Steve shoved Billy off of him, both boys scrambling for their clothes in record time. “Yeah, I’m fine, mom! We were just…watching a movie!” Steve cringed at his own excuse, Billy chuckling quietly in the corner as he buckled his belt.

“Why is the door locked?”

Steve froze. “Uh…it was an accident. I’m sorry.” Both dressed, he unlocked the door, hoping he looked casual. “Sorry, mom.”

His mom looked into the room, finding Billy sitting on the bed, the sheets disturbed but nothing else out of the ordinary. “Okay…” she said, a little confused. “Well, let me know if you two need anything.”

“Will do…” Steve said quietly as she left and he shut the door behind her again, not locking it this time. He leaned back against it. “Jesus Christ, that was close.”

“I guess after that, I should get going,” Billy said, picking up his keys and making sure the polaroid was still in his pocket. “I have a date. Sorry you didn’t get to cum.”

And with that, he was gone.

—

Steve was relieved when his parents were gone again. It meant Billy could come over without worrying about being caught.

He picked up the phone, dialing the number he had looked at so often, dreaming of calling again. He listened to it ring with baited breath.

“Hello?” Came Billy’s voice, bored.

“Can you come over?” Steve breathed into the receiver. “I…I miss you.”

Billy chuckled lowly into the phone. “Sure, Harrington.”

Billy was over in record time, which made Steve wonder if he was just as excited to see him. The only car in the drive was Steve’s, so when Billy walked up to the front door Steve was standing in, he grabbed his jaw with his strong hand and smashed his lips against his.

Steve moaned into the kiss, before realizing the door was still open and any of his neighbors could see. He pulled Billy into the house, slamming the front door. Billy pushed him up against the wall, kissing him fiercely.

“Billy-“ Steve said into the kiss.

“I missed you too, Harrington,” Billy whispered, so quiet Steve wasn’t sure he really said it.

Billy pulled away, nodding towards the stairs. Steve headed up, Billy following behind, watching his ass in his jeans. Up in his room, Steve pushed Billy’s leather jacket off his shoulders, and started unbuttoning his shirt.

“Excited today?” Billy asked, a wicked smirk on his face. He licked his lips as Steve’s fingers worked on his shirt. “I didn’t take you for desperate, King Steve.”

“Shut up,” Steve said, getting the shirt open and pushing it off. “Just wanna see you.” He leaned forward and did something he had often dreamed of doing when watching Billy in the locker room - run his tongue over the muscles of his chest. Billy gasped, surprised by his actions, but didn’t stop him. Steve trailed his tongue lower and lower, licking over Billy’s abs, down until he fell to his knees and reached the waistband of his jeans.

“God, Harrington,” Billy said, his head falling back on his shoulders.

“Want you so bad,” Steve said, pulling open Billy’s belt and jeans. He pushed them down, Billy’s hard cock springing free. Steve groaned, immediately wrapping it in his fist and licking the tip. Billy hissed, hips bucking forward.

“Shit- get on the bed.”

Steve obeyed, moving to sit on the bed as Billy stepped out of his clothes, moving to join him completely naked now. He slowly laid Steve down, kissing him with an alarming amount of passion. Steve tangled his fingers in Billy’s curls as their lips moved together.

He didn’t think this was just sex anymore.

Billy’s hands trailed up Steve’s stomach and chest until he was pulling the shirt over his head, then moving down to get him out of his jeans and boxers, too. Both boys were completely naked now, bodies intertwined as they made out on the bed. Billy’s hands were everywhere, over Steve’s sides, his back, his chest, squeezing his ass. Steve could barely breathe, the emotions swirling in his brain and chest too intense even without the way Billy was making him feel physically. They were both rock hard, cocks pressed together between them as they rutted their hips together, both of their precum coating their lengths.

“Turn over,” Billy said, and Steve froze.

“W-Why?”

“I think you know why,” Billy chuckled. “Come on, King Steve.”

Steve thought about it. If he’d thought he reached the point of no return before, he was definitely reaching it now. But he did want this - he wanted it so bad his cock was throbbing.

He turned over onto his stomach, and Billy grabbed his hips, pulling him up until he was on his knees with his back arched. He felt Billy’s hands on his ass, rubbing over the skin. He spread them and Steve heard him spit before he felt it on his hole, making him jerk forward.

“Calm down, it’s okay,” Billy said.

Steve’s body naturally clenched up when he felt Billy’s finger at his entrance. He just rubbed over his hole at first, and it felt kind of nice.

“Do you have lube?”

“Uh…no,” Steve answered. Why would he have lube? The girls he fucked got plenty wet for him.

“Good thing I brought some then,” Billy said with a laugh, moving off the bed and towards his jeans. He dug into one of the pockets, pulling out a tiny bottle before climbing back behind Steve.

“You’re gonna have to relax or it’s gonna hurt,” Billy told him.

Steve tried his best to relax his whole body, but the feeling of Billy’s finger at his entrance again had him nervous. Then Billy was slowly pushing inside, stretching him out.

Steve whined at the feeling. He could imagine the smirk on Billy’s face behind him. It felt good. Billy pushed in all the way to the knuckle, pressing against something deep inside Steve that had him gasping.

“Feel good?” Billy asked as he slowly started pumping his finger.

“Yeah,” Steve moaned, head falling forward against his pillows. He cried out when he felt Billy add in a second finger.

“You know my dick’s much bigger than my fingers, right?” Billy laughed. “If you can’t take these…”

“No, I- I can take it.”

“Good boy.”

Steve keened at Billy’s praise, his back arching as Billy pumped both fingers inside of him. “Feels good, Billy.”

“Good.” Billy pulled his fingers out, making Steve whine at the loss, subconsciously pushing his hips back. He felt Billy’s erection pressed against his thigh.

Billy opened the bottle of lube again, coating his thick cock with it. He stroked his dick, making sure it was all lubed up. He wanted to make it as comfortable for Steve as possible.

“Are you ready?” He asked, lining his tip up at Steve’s hole.

Steve grabbed onto the sheets, clenching them tight in his fists. He couldn’t believe he was actually about to do this. He couldn’t believe he wanted this so badly. He couldn’t believe how painfully hard he was just at the thought. “Yeah.”

Billy slowly pushed inside, a loud, low groan coming from his pretty lips. Steve’s eyes went wide, the feeling making him cry out again. Billy soothingly stroked his back. “It’ll stop hurting. Just give it time.”

The thing was that it did hurt, but it also felt amazing. Steve had never even dreamed of anything like this in his life. As Billy pressed in deeper, Steve found himself moaning, and he felt so full as Billy finally bottomed out.

“Fuck, Harrington, so fucking tight,” Billy groaned, trying not to cum right away. “I’m not gonna last long.”

“Please, fuck me Billy,” Steve whined, pushing back against him. Now that he’d gotten used to the feeling, he needed more, desperately.

Billy started moving his hips, the hottest moans coming from him. Steve’s eyes fell closed as Billy fucked him, holding onto the sheets and pillows for leverage. It felt amazing, like everything all at once.

Billy grabbed onto Steve’s hair, pulling his head back as he pounded into him. “Fuck, yeah, Steve. Feels so fucking good. You like that? You like getting fucked by me?”

“Yes,” Steve moaned. “I fucking love it.”

“Tell me who’s fucking you so good. What’s my name?”

“Billy,” he moaned again. “Billy, Billy, Billy.”

Billy groaned loudly, his body pitching forward as the sound of Steve saying his name over and over nearly made him cum right then and there. He pulled out and slapped Steve on the ass. “Turn over.”

Steve flipped onto his back, looking up at Billy. Billy loved how fucked out the other boy’s expression looked, like all he wanted was for Billy to stick his dick back inside him. Which he would gladly do.

Billy pushed Steve’s legs up, lining himself up at his hole again. He pushed inside faster this time, and Steve’s back arched off the bed as he whined at the feeling. His neglected cock was laying against his stomach, tip red and leaking. It twitched against him as Billy filled him again, and Billy wrapped his hand around it, making Steve moan again.

“More, more,” Steve begged.

“Such a pretty boy,” Billy praised, fucking him in earnest again. “You gonna cum from me fucking your ass?”

“Yes, yes,” Steve said. “‘m close.”

Steve opened his eyes finally, finding Billy staring right into his eyes. Steve’s went wide, seeing some kind of unfamiliar intensity behind Billy’s expression. Billy leaned down and kissed him, tenderly, as he thrusted his cock in and out.

Oh, god.

Steve was in love.

When Billy pulled back and looked him in the eyes again, something like love behind them, it shoved Steve over the edge. He came hard with a loud cry, his cum splattering up and over Billy’s fist and his own stomach.

Billy’s eyes were locked on Steve’s cock as he watched him come. He groaned - “Steve, oh fuck, Steve!” - then he was cumming inside him, the most intense orgasm of his life wracking through his body.

They caught their breath together, looking at each other with so much unspoken behind it. Steve almost said it then. I love you. I love you. I love you.

But he didn’t.

Billy pulled out, grabbing tissues to clean them both up. Steve expected him to just hand him the box, but Billy cleaned him up himself. He fell onto the bed next to Steve when he was done.

Steve wasn’t sure what to do. After having sex with girls, usually they’d want to cuddle up to him. It didn’t sound bad, but he wasn’t sure how Billy would feel about that.

He tentatively moved closer to the other boy, wanting to be close to him. His eyes slowly traveled up his body until he was looking at his face. Billy was looking right back at him. He reached a hand out, placing it on Steve’s cheek. Billy just looked at him. Steve’s heart was thudding hard in his chest.

“Go for a ride with me tomorrow,” Billy said, catching Steve by surprise. “Tomorrow night.”

Steve’s eyes were locked on Billy’s. “Yeah, okay.”

Billy smiled softly. Then he was sitting back up, reaching for his clothes.

“You’re leaving?” Steve asked, surprised how hurt he felt about it.

“Yeah,” Billy said. “I’ve…I’ve got some shit to do.”

Steve stayed in the bed as he watched Billy redress himself, combing his fingers through his mullet to try to tame the blonde curls. He pulled his pack of cigarettes from his pocket. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Harrington.”

“I…okay.”

He watched Billy leave, remaining in the bed long after he was gone. He had a lot to work through in his head - things were getting more intense than he knew what to do with.

He loved Billy. He was sure of it now. And that terrified him.

—

The next evening, Billy pulled up in the blue Camaro as promised. Steve had been waiting on the porch steps, maybe looking a little too eager. He walked down the steps towards the car, reaching for the passenger side door, but Billy beat him to it, reaching across and pushing the door open for him. Steve smiled softly as he slid into the seat. Billy started driving, Metallica blasting from the speakers.

“Where are we going?” Steve asked.

“Lover’s Lake,” Billy said, a smirk on his face. Steve blushed. It was already starting to get dark. He hoped they’d be the only ones there. Lovers Lake was always a popular spot on Friday and Saturday nights, but there was a chance they’d have some privacy tonight.

Billy drove the familiar route, finally reaching the wooded area and finding a spot overlooking the lake. Steve was relieved that he was right, it was deserted tonight. Billy shut the car off.

His hand tangled in Steve’s hair, just playing with the locks for a minute. It felt nice. Steve’s eyes closed as he enjoyed the feeling.

“Such a pretty boy,” Billy muttered, mostly to himself. He looked at Steve so intently it made him blush.

He pulled Steve’s head towards him, and they met in the middle over the center console. Their lips brushed together softly at first, electricity sparking through both boys’ bodies. Then Billy was pushing in harder, lips moving against Steve’s slowly but with so much passion behind them. Steve’s hand brushed Billy’s exposed chest through his button up shirt, feeling his smooth skin, his hard muscles. It was so much different than feeling up a girl, but he loved it.

Billy groaned into the kiss, playing with the hair at the back of Steve’s neck. His other hand rested on Steve’s thigh, not rising any higher yet, just holding onto him.

Steve had never had a kiss make him feel these types of feelings before. At least, not this strong. Sure he cared for Nancy, even thought he loved her, but he knew better now. He knew what he had with Nancy was nothing. The way he felt with Billy was like nothing else. He loved him.

Billy intensified the kiss, his tongue sliding along the seam of Steve’s lips. He opened, gladly welcoming Billy into his mouth. Their tongues met tentatively at first, even though they’d done this many times by now.

Billy tasted like cigarettes and beer. Which might not sound like a nice combination, but Steve was obsessed. It was so distinctly Billy. It had his heart fluttering, butterflies in his stomach like he’d never felt, tingling in his skin.

He falls in love for real, and it has to be with Billy Hargrove.

But Billy wasn’t so bad, was he? The more time they spent together, the more Steve enjoyed his company, even outside of the sex. He put on a tough exterior, but when they were together, there was something behind it. Something Steve really liked.

Billy’s hand moved from the back of Steve’s head around to caress his cheek, his thumb stroking the skin there as they kissed. His lips were softer than anyone would think, so plush and pink and gentle. Steve never heard of Billy being gentle with anyone before. It made his mind race.

Billy pulled away slowly, like he didn’t ever want to stop kissing Steve. “Let’s get in the back.”

Steve didn’t need to be told twice, climbing over the seats and into the back. Billy joined him, his larger body maneuvering through the car with a bit more difficulty, even though he’d been back here with girls countless times.

In the backseat, their lips met again, kissing more frantically this time as their hands groped at each other, tearing at each other’s clothes. Steve had Billy’s shirt off in record time, needing to see him bare again. He’d been dreaming about it.

They undressed each other quickly as they kissed, Billy pulling Steve’s shirt off as Steve worked at Billy’s belt and jeans. He pushed Billy’s jeans down to his thighs then leaned over, wrapping his lips around his cock.

Billy moaned in surprise, his hand grabbing onto Steve’s hair again. “Fuck, Steve.”

Steve moaned around his cock, loving the feeling of having Billy in his mouth. He bobbed his head quickly, taking him deeply. He hit the back of his throat and Steve gagged, but he kept going. Billy’s thighs were trembling beneath his hands, and it was so hot.

“Fuck, Harrington, I’m gonna cum if you keep sucking my cock like that,” Billy said, his hand tightening in Steve’s locks, moving his head faster. He started thrusting up into his mouth, fucking his face. Spit dribbled from Steve’s mouth, coating Billy’s cock and balls and thighs. He cupped Billy’s balls in his hand, squeezing them gently as he continued taking him deep down his throat.

“You like sucking cock, King Steve?” Billy taunted.

“Mhm,” Steve hummed around Billy, causing him to hiss and buck his hips harder.

“Only mine, huh?”

Steve hummed again. Only Billy.

Billy groaned loudly, his hips canting up into Steve’s mouth and he pulled on his hair as he came in his mouth, coating his tongue and throat in endless hot ropes of his cum. Steve took it all greedily.

“Open your mouth, let me see,” Billy said, chest heaving.

Steve pulled off of Billy’s cock, keeping it all in his mouth. He opened, sticking his tongue out and showing Billy his cum covering his tongue. Billy leaned forward and licked at Steve’s mouth, tasting himself and taking it all back. Steve moaned into the kiss, loving the feeling of Billy’s tongue against his own.

When Billy pulled back, he had some of his own cum smeared on his lips. Steve wiped it away with his thumb, bringing it to his mouth and sucking it clean. Billy smirked in appreciation.

Steve felt the urge again to say it. I love you. I love you. I love you.

But he didn’t.

Billy’s spent cock rested against his thigh as he reached for Steve’s jeans, undoing them and pulling them and his boxers down his thighs. “Do you wanna fuck me this time?”

Steve’s eyes went wide. “What?”

“You heard me,” Billy said, kissing at Steve’s neck. “Do you wanna fuck me?”

God, did he.

“Yes,” Steve whined, the feeling of Billy biting and sucking at his neck sending his mind into a haze. “I wanna fuck you.”

Billy pulled away, reaching into the front seat. He opened the glove compartment and pulled out a bottle of lube. He handed it to Steve, who took it with shaking hands. He looked at it like he had no idea what to do with it, even though he very much did. He was still a little sore from last night.

“Just cover your cock in it,” Billy said, looking at Steve with an eyebrow quirked. “‘s easy.”

Steve stroked his cock a few times, watching as Billy’s twitched back to life at the sight. He opened the bottle and squirted some of the lube on his dick. He was about to use his hand to coat himself with it, but Billy pushed him out of the way, wrapping his hand around his cock himself. He stroked Steve agonizingly slowly, eyes locked on his blissed-out face as he tilted his head back against the seat with his eyes closed.

Once he was completely covered, Billy moved onto his knees on the seat. Steve got behind him, painfully hard and ready. He rubbed his hands over the skin of Billy’s perfectly round ass, admiring the view from back here. Both boys were still partially clothed, jeans hastily shoved around their thighs. It made it even hotter, Steve thought, like they were so desperate to fuck each other they couldn’t wait. Which was true.

Steve lined himself up at Billy’s hole, rubbing the tip along it and spreading the lube. Billy moaned, pushing back so Steve’s tip slipped inside. Steve gasped at the sudden tightness around his head, it was so tight. He couldn’t help himself as he pushed in more without asking if it was okay, but Billy didn’t seem to mind. Both boys groaned loudly at the intrusion. Billy felt better than any pussy.

“Jesus,” Steve hissed out as he bottomed out inside of Billy. “Feels so good, holy shit.”

Billy chuckled breathlessly. “Yeah?”

“Fuck yeah.” Steve slowly pulled out until only his tip was left, then pushed in again with a loud, pitchy moan. Billy groaned too, reaching down to grasp his rapidly hardening cock.

“Fuck me, King Steve,” Billy rasped out. “Show me what you can do.”

Steve sped his hips up, thrusting into Billy quickly now. He gripped onto Billy’s hips, pulling him back against him with every thrust. Billy’s head dropped forward as he pumped his cock in his hand, and Steve thought he had never heard moans as hot in his life.

“God, feels amazing,” Billy moaned. “I’m gonna fucking cum again.”

“Yeah? I’m gonna make you cum?”

“Fuck yeah,” Billy said with a smirk, repeating Steve’s words from earlier.

Steve rubbed his hands over Billy’s skin, feeling him all over. He was the most beautiful person Steve had ever seen. And watching him fall apart on his cock was even better.

“Cum for me then,” Steve said, fucking into Billy harder. “Show me how good I’m fucking you.”

Steve reached around his body and grabbed Billy’s cock himself, jerking him off fast. Billy’s groans got louder and louder as Steve brought him to the edge, Steve’s cock pressing right against his prostate and making him see stars.

Billy came with a loud groan, cum shooting onto the seat below him, but he’d worry about that later. Steve wasn’t far behind him. He started thrusting faster and harder, chasing his own release inside of Billy.

“Fuck, fuck. Gonna cum in you. Gonna fucking cum in you.”

“Do it, pretty boy,” Billy rasped. “Go ahead and fill me up.”

Steve’s orgasm hit him like a wave, rushing through his body as he pitched forward, moaning a loud “Ahhhh!” as he came inside of Billy. Every time he fooled around with Billy he felt like he had the best orgasm of his life, but this was something else entirely. He had never come so hard, so much, in his life. He rode it out, thrusting shallowly until he was spent.

Steve pulled out, and Billy grabbed a towel from the floor to clean them (and the seat) up. He pulled his pants back up and turned over, laying on his back, catching his breath. Steve leaned over his body slowly. Billy watched him with a confused expression.

“Harrington? What are you-“

Steve pressed his lips to Billy’s. He kissed him slowly, conveying everything that had been swimming in his mind into a single kiss. When he pulled back, he looked Billy in the eyes.

“I love you.”

Billy’s eyes widened. There was a minute of silence, and then Billy was pushing Steve off of him. Steve staggered back, surprised. “Billy?”

“Don’t say things like that,” Billy said quickly, pulling his shirt back on. He was redressing as fast as he could.

“Why not?” Steve asked, hurt. He looked at Billy with his big brown eyes filled with sadness, confusion. “I mean it. I love you.”

Billy got in Steve’s face then. “I said don’t fucking say things like that!”

Steve flinched, not understanding why Billy was suddenly so upset. He hasn’t been this upset with him since they’d started hooking up. “Okay,” he said quietly, defeated. “I won’t.”

Billy backed away, looking at him like he might have something else to say. But then he grabbed Steve’s shirt, balling it up and shoving at his chest. “Get dressed. I’m taking you home.”

He climbed back into the front seat, Steve trailing behind him after pulling his shirt back on. Billy started the car and tore out of the parking spot while Steve was still buckling up.

Neither of them said a word the whole way home. Steve watched the street lights pass as they drove, thinking about what he’d done wrong. Where he had messed up. Why didn’t Billy love him back?

Billy dropped him off and still didn’t say anything. Usually he’d hit him with the ���See you around, Harrington,” but not this time. Steve waited, but when he realized Billy really wasn’t going to speak, he opened the car door.

“See you,” he said. Billy didn’t acknowledge him.

Steve laid in bed that night, tears in his eyes as he hugged his pillow. He hadn’t cried like this since he found out Nancy cheated on him.

He thinks it may feel worse this time.

—

Billy didn’t talk to Steve after that. Not for weeks. Steve would try to confront him in the halls, but he would turn away, locked in conversation with some girl. At basketball practice, Billy barely acknowledged him. In the locker room, he showered and left as fast as possible. He surrounded himself with Tommy and Carol and Tina and all the other girls so Steve wouldn’t have the chance to talk to him at all.

It broke Steve’s heart.

He had gone from hating Billy Hargrove, to fooling around with him, to falling in love. And now Billy wanted nothing to do with him.

He had to do something about it.

Steve knew where Billy lived. He’d never been over, but he’d given Max a ride home. He knew the way there. He could go, confront Billy so he couldn’t run away this time.

That’s what he’d do.

Steve waited around for a while after school, giving Billy a few hours to hopefully make sure he’d be home. When the sun began to set, he grabbed his keys and made his way to his BMW.

He was glad to see there were no cars parked out front besides Billy’s Camaro. He didn’t want to have to deal with parents, he’d heard Billy’s dad was a major dick.

Steve walked up the steps, knocking on the door. He waited, looking around awkwardly. He knew Billy had to be home, his car was here.

Finally, the door swung open with an irritated-looking Billy on the other side. He was dressed in his tight jeans, maroon button up shirt that was half undone. His necklace hung between his pectoral muscles. Steve could smell the cologne the second he opened the door.

Billy’s expression darkened when he saw Steve. “What are you doing here?”

“I need to talk to you,” Steve said.

“We don’t have anything to talk about.” Billy went to slam the door in his face.

“We do,” Steve said, reaching a hand out to catch the door. “Please don’t shut me out like this.”

Billy threw his head back, a loud laugh coming from his chest. “It’s not my fault you got attached, Harrington. That’s cute, though.”

He turned and walked through the house. Steve followed, closing the door behind him. He followed Billy to his bedroom. It was tidy, smelled like cigarette smoke (in fact, there was one currently burning in the ashtray), and had posters of models taped to the walls. It was distinctly Billy.

“What are you doing?” Steve asked as he watched Billy fixing his hair in the mirror, cigarette back between his lips now. He exhaled the smoke as he sprayed some hairspray on a curl.

“I have a date,” Billy said simply.

Steve looked at him. “Are you seriously trying to say you didn’t feel anything for me?”

Billy chuckled as he put the cigarette out in the ashtray, walking over to the other side of his room. “No. It was just sex.”

Steve felt like he’d been stabbed in the chest. “That’s not true.”

“It is,” Billy said, giving him a look. “Look, I don’t do relationships. It’s just sex. Sorry if you thought it was something different.”

Steve swallowed, tears welling in his eyes. He wouldn’t let Billy see him cry. That absolutely was not happening. “I guess that’s it, then?”

“Don’t take it too hard, Harrington,” Billy said, grabbing his leather jacket out of his closet. “Pretty boy like you’s got nothing to worry about.”

Billy pushed past Steve’s shoulder, and he wasn’t prepared for the way the contact would make his chest ache even worse. He left the house, feeling like he had been punched in the gut repeatedly. He sat behind the wheel of his car, watching as Billy’s Camaro tore down the street, off to meet with some girl. To forget all about Steve.

Billy gripped the steering wheel so tightly as he drove that his knuckles turned white. He clenched his jaw, willing thoughts of Steve to leave his head. He didn’t have feelings for him. He didn’t have feelings for him. He didn’t have feelings for him.

Fuck.

[therabbitthatpostthings]

Valentine’s Day

Teen!NanamixTeen!Reader

(Part 2)

“Is this some kind of prank?”

That was the first thing to cross First Year Nanami Kento’s mind. Of course it had to be. What other reason would there be for a folded pink note to be on his desk? He grimaced as he picked up the note and looked it over. It was made of construction paper and smelled faintly of perfume and markers, which he could see bleeding through. All signs pointed to one thing: Gojo wrote a fake note and doused it in perfume to trick him.

What a pain…

The thought that someone, anyone, could have written him a genuine love note?! Ridiculous! This Valentine’s Day was going to end with Yu sharing all the sweets he got and Kento was just fine with that. He crumbled the letter up and put it in his pocket to throw away later. Luckily you didn’t stick around to see that far. You had gotten far too embarrassed. Shoko watched as you anxiously walked in circles. It thought of him rejecting you was heartbreaking but if you didn’t let your feelings be known how could you move on!

“Pacing won’t help you.” Shoko stated.

“I know but- ugh!” You slumped onto the bench into defeat. “I hate feelings.”

Shoko hummed in acknowledgment.

“Dude you are going to town on those cigarettes.” You stated

“Oh these? It’s candy from Gojo, I don’t wanna smell like smoke when me and Utahime go karoking later. You wanna come if Nanami rejects you?”

“What? You got a crush on the emo kid?” Gojo laughed. You quickly jumped back in shock. Him and Geto had the annoying hair of appearing anywhere you were. Gojo was of course doing it on purpose but you wished Geto would warn you.

“Don’t tease them Satoru.” Geto said in a light tone. Something about it still felt mocking.

“Spies! The both of you!” You yelled.

“Nah, you just talk too loud.” Gojo leaned over the benches back. His body slumped against your back as he shook your shoulders. “Come on~ Tell me about your crush~”

“Could you fuck off? You are so annoying.” You sneered.

“It’s cute (Y/N)! I didn’t think you would like the dark and brooding type.” Gojo cooed.

“He’s not dark and brooding!” You yelled, face flushed with embarrassment.

Gojo wasn’t completely wrong, Nanami was a little dark and brooding. He doesn’t really talk to people and always looks annoyed or angry. You would have continued your school days without ever noticing him. He noticed you though. When you were harassed by a group of third years, he told them to back off and helped you to class. He picked up the books you dropped by accident and gave you the treats he didn’t eat. Nanami was very kind and respectful to you despite his dislike for Gojo.

You pushed the bashful thoughts out of your head. The anxiety crept back in. Surely Nanami had found the note. He had to be coming to find you eventually.

“Oi Nanami!” Gojo called over. Your heart nearly jumped out of your chest.

You saw Nanami’s expression change to annoyance as he walked in long strides towards you. He didn’t look at you aside from a quick glance before fixating back on Gojo.

“Ohh~ What’s that? A love note?” Gojo joked. Nanami held up the crumbled pink paper and tossed it towards Gojo. It bounced off his chest and hit the ground, rolling right in front of you.

“Don’t leave notes at my desk again, senpai.” He stated.

Nanami left the four of you in a deafening silence. It was like the whole world had just stopped and you could only hear his footsteps disappear in the distance. Geto cleared his throat to say something but you couldn’t understand it. You leaned down to pick up the note.

“Shoko. I got some homework to finish, come get me when you're ready to leave.” You said blankly.

“Uh, yeah.” She replied.

You quietly walked back to your room.

[visceravalentines]

drowning is only as hard as you make it

bo sinclair x gn!reader

2k words. weird melancholy freak behavior. author's thinly disguised smoking fetish. established relationship (lol). Ambrose is lonely. that's it that's the fic.

He always manages to find you.  Every time.  It’s not a game anymore, not really; there’s no use keeping score when only one side is allowed to earn points.  There are no rules, no satisfaction in the victory.  You’d make your way back to the house even if he never showed up.  Today you’re not even hiding.

The row of vacant windows across the street catches the last lazy rays of sunlight.  A few eager fireflies pantomime shooting stars just above the freshly cut grass.  He mows the lawns regularly, every last one of them, dripping sweat in the sticky air.  You think it’s nonsensical.  He doesn’t care what you think.  At least it smells nice.  Nostalgic.  Painful.  

On an evening like this, there should be kids out.  Riding bikes, running through the neighbor’s yard.  Parents watching from their porches.  People chatting, relaxing.  Hell, maybe a dog or two.  But there is only you, and the fireflies.  

The heat of your cigarette creeps dangerously close to your fingers but you wring one last pull off the thing before you crush it against the step.  Scorch marks dot the woodgrain like initials carved in a tree, only better, because they’re anonymous.  Could've been left by anyone sitting sulking on these stairs and pondering ways to disappear.  Plausible deniability.  

Too bad you're the only one here.

You set your hand on the pack beside you, work another one out with your fingers without looking.  It’s all reflex.  It’s all muscle memory.  That’s all you are anymore, something that survives without thinking about it.  

In that shadowy place called Before, you only ever smoked on rare occasions. At parties or bars, always with friends, always a little drunk. You'd never admit it aloud but a part of you used to pride yourself on your restraint–you could stretch a single pack out over a month or more, until the tobacco had gone stale and the cigarettes tasted like dusty paper. Until it was less of a treat and more like a chore to get through the last few.  

Now you drop butts through the grate of your days like maybe you can fill up the emptiness with smoke.  

You sigh and light up, take a drag and let it sweep you up above the gutters.  You imagine the town might almost be pretty from up high.  Hard to tell from here.  

“Didn’t know this house had a chimney.”  

Some part of you remembers what it felt like to flinch when he got this close.  Another part remembers the way you buried your face in his back before he got up this morning.  You exhale nice and slow.  “Thought you knew everything.”  

“Now, we’ve talked about this.”  He leans against the rickety railing, white paint flaking off at the slightest disturbance.  “You know nothin’ good comes from thinkin’.”  

As a matter of fact, you’ve talked about everything already, but that’s never stopped him before.  You’ve heard all the stories sixteen times, could recount his childhood from memory one miserable year after another.  You know where he got that scar.  He knows all about your first kiss.  Eighth grade was hard for both of you for vastly different reasons.  He’s never been to your hometown but he could probably find your old house.  You’ve never met his mother, but you hate her just the same.  Favorite movie, worst fear, where were you on 9/11?  In a zombie apocalypse, he’d choose an ax.  You’d take the shotgun with exactly two shells.  It’s almost romantic, except, well.  

“Hey.”  He slams the heel of his hand against the railing and somewhere along the line, the wood splits with a crack.  “What’d I just say?”  

You look up, jarred loose from your spiral, and he’s shaking his head.  

“Damn fool.  Gimme those back.”  

He reaches out a hand and you slip one last smoke from the pack before you give it to him.  

“Lighter too, baby, c’mon.”  

You hesitate for a second, long enough he has to flex his fingers to make the point.  You hand him the lighter, keep the spare cigarette, tuck it behind your ear.

He peeks into the pack and his lip twitches. “Fuckin’ glutton.  This was full this mornin’.”  

“Sorry,” you deadpan.  

“Sure y’are.”  

You’ve had this conversation too, in just about every house on the street.  You wonder if he ever feels crazy, playing it all out over and over again.  Probably not. He's composed of repetition, a record that skips in the same place every time it's played. You feel crazy, fucking listening to it.  

You watch him work a cigarette loose, watch him hold it in his lips, watch the tendons flex across his knuckles as he lights up. For all the fucking smoke he blows, you still think he looks damn good as he exhales up towards the fading sun. One of life's little cruelties. 

“Y’know, supper ain't gonna make itself,” he says casually. Like he’s trying to piss you off.  He probably is.  

“You sure?” you shoot back, like you’re trying to piss him off.  You definitely are.  

He chuckles, unbothered. “I dunno, baby. Been wrong before.”

“Yeah?  Tell me more.” You're bold these days. Stupid. Dangerous, and not in the same way as the surgeon general's fine print. Dangerous in the present moment. Shaving seconds off your life like taking a pocketknife to a good chunk of wood. But games are more fun with two players. 

He doesn’t want to play, though.  Probably worn out from mowing all those fucking lawns.  He shrugs.  “Nothin’ more to tell.”  

“Pantry’s empty anyway,” you mutter.  The grocery list on the fridge has wrapped back on itself twice over.  He’s been cagey lately, reluctant to venture into town.  You’re down to canned goods old enough to read chapter books.  

“Guess we’ll starve.”  

“Guess so.”  You flick your rapidly shrinking cigarette and watch the ash fizzle frantically down and disappear. The chorus of crickets crescendoes to a dull roar in the silence.  

“You like these, huh?”

You're not sure what he means for a second before you realize he's talking about the cigarettes. You take another drag like you have to mull the taste over, really consider the question. He’s not a patient man, but he waits for your answer.

“Yeah,” you say finally on the tail of your exhale. “Best ones in a while.”

It’s the truth.  He's got his own brand and you like it too, but he's a fucking skinflint, and he only buys himself a pack when he's really hard up. Most of the time he scavenges off corpses and out of glove boxes. And you live off his scraps, so. 

Regretfully, you stub yours out as the flame hits the filter. Your throat is raw, tongue wrapped in the taste of tobacco. Everything in this town is racing to kill you and you wish something would win already. You can feel him watching you, now and always. 

“Somethin’ you need, sugar?”

“No.”

“Hmm.”  

He exhales with relish.  You think about the taste of smoke on his tongue and tobacco on his fingers and you grit your teeth.  He’s a vice in every sense.  

“You pissed at me?”  

What kind of question is that?  You peel a chunk of paint off the stair near your shoe.  “I’m always pissed at you.”  You mean it and you don’t and you’re braced for retribution either way, but none comes.  

“Fair enough.”  

You steal a wary glance in his direction.  He’s covered in flecks of grass.  He shed his overshirt in the heat of the day but it’s back on now, unbuttoned, the tee underneath smudged with green.  He lifts his hat, rubs his brow with the heel of his hand, tugs it back into place.  His face is a little sunburnt in spite of the thing.  

“You wanna fight?”  

You stop breathing for a second, sit very still.  He looks down at you, cocks an eyebrow.  He’s really asking.  

You think about it, really think about it.  Broken skin, broken glass.  No neighbors to scandalize.  You shake your head.  “No.”  

He shrugs, goes back to staring holes in the house across the street.  You almost want him to be disappointed, but his face is placid, expression impassive.  “Alright then.  ‘Nother time.”  

You furrow your brow, look at your shoes.  You pick at the paint, feel it slip beneath your nail like a splinter.  You’d bet five bucks you don’t have that he’ll be back to repaint these steps within the week.  It makes you want to rip them apart so he’d have more to do.  You’re not sure if he’d take that as a gift or as sabotage.  You’re not sure how you’d mean it.  

“How ‘bout we head inside, feel each other up?  See what happens?”  You look at him sharply.  He’s really asking.  “We can do it how you like it.”  

How you like it.  How do you like it?  Does he know?  Do you?

Your expression must be a funny one because he grins.  “What?  You a prude all the sudden?”  

No.  No, but.

You find the words wedged behind your teeth.  “You a gentleman all the sudden?”  

He snorts.  “C’mon now.”  He gives the railing one last yank, almost pulls it loose.  As he rounds the steps he drops his spent cigarette and crushes it underfoot.  “Scoot.”  

You make room on the stair and he sits down heavy beside you, takes up more than his fair share of space, same as always.  He smells like sun and sweat and grass and smoke.  His sleeve rides up and exposes the pink of his wrist.  He pulls it down without thinking about it.  You almost–almost–pull it back up.  

“I’m just tryin’ to figure you out.  Don’t know what the fuck you want.”  

Now that's a dumb fucking thing to say. You want a thousand things.  A meal.  A clock that works.  Cable TV.  An article of clothing that doesn't reek of mothballs and someone else's fear. A normal conversation with a normal human being. Half a goddamn hour to yourself without the urge to lock the doors and set the house on fire. 

Anything.  Anything.  

“A light,” you say bitterly. 

To your surprise, he digs the lighter out of his pocket.  Holds it up to show you, like a peace offering.  He moves his boots down a step, pats his thigh.  “C’mere.” 

You straddle his lap and it’s like you’re walking in and out of a room at the same time.  Your hands find their place on either side of his chest and he’s warm to the touch like a dog lying in the sun.  His fingers play at the small of your back.  You can escape into the maze of abandoned homes or the pattern on the ceiling but you can’t slip away from those eyes at this distance.  They catch you like barbs on wire, as distant and cold as the sky.  

This is how you like it.  His head tipped back, looking up at you.  You run your thumb along the edge of his jaw and he almost–almost–smiles.  

He plucks the cigarette from behind your ear, flips it in his fingers.  You open your mouth.  He sets it on your tongue.  He flicks the lighter, brings it close, and when you breathe in you feel it–the poison of this place, yellow-green, permeating your lungs and all the rest of you.  No use in pretending.  No use fighting the current.  Drowning is only as hard as you make it.  

You wonder if he knows you’d come home even if he never came to find you.  Maybe that’s why he comes anyway.  Maybe that’s why you keep hiding.  So you both have something to look forward to.  Games are more fun with two players.  

It’s not worth thinking about.  Nothing good comes from thinking.  

You start to exhale and he tugs you close, sucking the smoke from your mouth, because he never can let you keep anything to yourself.  Maybe you don’t even want to. 

Your lips touch.  Tangerine thrums behind your eyes.  You’ll go to bed hungry tonight and so will he.  One shotgun, two shells.

“Don’t say I never gave you anything,” he murmurs.  

You’re already working his shirt off his shoulders one-handed.  “Nothing I want.”  

He laughs once, almost breathless, leans back on the stairs so you have to lean with him.  “C’mon now.”  

You toss the cigarette into the dirt to free up both hands.

[loveindefinitely]

༊*·˚ FOREVER WINTER (IF YOU GO) — task force 141 x reader

11 — COME BACK TO REMIND ME OF WHO I WAS

featuring. simon 'ghost' riley + johnny 'soap' mactavish + kyle 'gaz' garrick + john 'bravo six' price + (non-endgame phillip graves)

warnings. nsfw, fem!reader, fmmmm, enemies to lovers, slow burn, polyamory, ghostsoap, pricegaz, alerudy, heavy angst, requited unrequited love, graphic violence

series masterlist. read on ao3. read on wattpad.

<- previous part | next part ->

“I forgot how ugly he was.”

Price, beside you, raises a slightly bemused brow. Taking the binoculars from your easy grip, he too, examines the target standing on the mansion’s balcony. A cigar sits between Price’s lips, mirroring the less sophisticated Marlboro between the Lieutenant General’s.

The man, one of the few higher-ups you were somewhat close with, is a decorated Shadow Company leader. Known for his strategy and persuasion, he was always a good asset.

Shame he was always this side of too touchy, and a general ass to anyone who had a vagina. Or an inclination for the same sex.

Real pity that he’s the one with the information you need, and the one you can’t kill.

“You’re not wrong, darlin’,” Price murmurs under his breath, exhaling a puff of smoke as he slips the cigar from his mouth, the cherry burning in the dark of night.

Ghost, like usual, is found a few buildings down, sniper at the ready. Soap and Gaz were ordered to stay behind for this mission, much to their chagrin. It was the closest you’d seen Gaz fight with his Captain, and Soap was just being generally pouty.

Both you, and Price, had managed to reason that expertise in explosions and protection wasn’t exactly wanted for a quick get-and-grab.

And, maybe, a small part of you needs a break from the two Sergeants. Your night with Gaz has infected your mind, even now, the day after. And seeing him, with his bright smile and dimples and eyes made your heart skip a beat. Especially with how no one could know of your rendezvous, lest you be kicked out of the deal.

Or worse.

You swallow, once, accepting the binoculars once more when Price hands them back to you with another puff of his cigar. He’s surprisingly courteous about it, not blowing the smoke into your face.

“Lt, we have eyes on the target. Over,” you speak into your radio, eyes like a hawk as you watch the Lieutenant General shake off flakes from his cigarette over the pristine white railing. He’s shorter than most, especially considering his rank, and you can’t help a small, private smile growing on your face at that small fact.

“Been around bloody Johnny too much,” Ghost mutters, and you roll your eyes. “No hostiles spotted, you’re good to go.”

Rising into a crouch, Price gives you a curt nod, before gesturing for you to follow him. You do so with quiet movements, the only sound the barely there crunch of dirt underneath your boots.

Your previous Lieutenant General was always an uncomfortably wealthy man, and you see now what he’s chosen to do with such an abundance of money. He lives in an off-the-grid mansion, deep in the middle of nowhere, only hills and trees around him.

Those families in Las Almas, displaced and killed and ruined – they were entirely more deserving of just a fraction of this wealth. Your tongue feels coated with something sour.

Price smells like cinnamon and spice, even in his gear, and it’s a scent that settles in your belly like a warm stew. 

It’s rare, these days, to see daylight. All this recon work done well past midnight, hiding in the shadows and staying low. Not your favourite, but at the same time, it’s kind of… nice, doing this, just you and Price and the moon. No having to tiptoe around what to say around Gaz, or avoiding Soap’s innuendos.

If only it wasn’t for Ghost, too, watching over the two of you.

God, how you hated that man. His snarky comments, the roll of his eyes, his mask he refused to take off. And the way he almost looked down at you, questioned your authority, not unlike all the men you’d known. Worked alongside. Hated, too, in much the same vein.

You wonder, distantly, if he’ll ever come around. If there was at all a possibility of a civil interaction between you both, one that didn’t end in death threats or glares or passing out.

“Somethin’s on your mind.”

Head snapping up, you meet Price’s knowing blue eyes. Calculating, always aware, always ready for the worst case scenario.

“Not really, Cap,” you easily shake off in a whisper, continuing to follow him, until your backs are pressed against the beige, concrete wall. Your assault rifle is pulled to your chest, safety off.

The bandage on your cheek had been replaced just this afternoon, a soothing balm and fresh wrappings alleviating the growing itch that had been forming on your face. What was another scar, even? This one, at least, had somewhat of a neutral memory attached.

Ghost’s chest, his arms, a single threat turned into a promise.

You blink.

“You’re gonna get yourself killed if you underestimate our smarts,” Price says, low, under his breath. His words have you halting.

“Sir –”

“I know you’re used to bein’ the smartest kid in the regiment,” he continues, not unkindly, “But you’d do yourself well to remember that my boys are here for a reason, too. We know more than you give us credit for.”

His voice is deep, gruff, even in the low whisper he’s reduced to. 

A shiver erupts down your spine as you feel out where to start climbing the wall, trying not to look at the man next to you. His words – they hit a part of you that you don’t want to acknowledge.

“Never said you guys weren’t smart, Captain.”

“Actions speak louder than words, Colonel.”

You have nothing to say to that – an irony, all things considered. Instead, you jerk your head towards the bricks that’ll allow you both to scale the side of the mansion. With your gloves on, the two of you make it to the third floor, shuffling through an open window.

It’s pitch black, except for a lone light turned on in your target’s study, just down the hall.

The air is stale, stifling, potent with old filing and decade-old cologne. It has your throat feeling clogged, your eyes slightly glassy as you move towards the light, gun at the ready.

This is, you realise, the first time you’re working beside the Captain.

You’d worked in tandem, obviously, but never so closely knit like this. With him at your six, his body like a furnace when beside your own, it’s an entirely new dynamic. So different to that of his subordinates – more steady, controlled.

Ghost is silent over the radio, a small mercy, as you two find your way into the study, backs to the wall as you quickly clear the room. You never knew when a surprise could be awaiting you.

“Check the drawers, I’ll look through the shelves,” Price whispers, a direct command delivered in a raspy breath.

You nod, immediately transferring your gun to your back as you rush through the desk’s contents.

The room is dusty, obviously having seen little use in recent years, and the drawers are filled to the brim with knick knacks. Old paper clips, photos, receipts – everything, except for what you need.

“Got anything?” You find yourself asking, a harsh whisper in the still quiet of the room.

Price shakes his head, a stern movement, still searching through the shelves with a stealthy yet quickened pace. You focus back on the drawers, going through each one with efficient and expert ease. Some old gum packets, paper clips. Fuck.

Your heart pounds in your chest, your throat feels thick with dread.

The contract you were looking for – it could be the beginning of the end. You needed this like you needed air, right now, and if you didn’t find it –

“Darlin’,” Price calls, smooth but demanding. You instantly look up, drawn to the man like a moth to a flame. “We’re goin’ to find it. Stop thinkin’.”

It’s, obviously, easier said than done.

You appreciate his sentiment – the way he’s trying to guide you – but that sinking feeling of despair has you gripped in its tenuous claws; unrelenting and powerful and cruel. It feels as though everything is riding on this; like your very existence will disappear as soon as you find out the document has.

A hand on your shoulder startles you out of your thoughts.

It’s Price.

“You need to get your head in, Colonel,” he orders, his voice no longer patient or kind. This is the voice of a Captain. “I am not about to waste my time here if you can’t do your job.”

It’s exactly what you need, right now, and he knows it. You know it.

You take a breath.

And you nod.

He claps your shoulder, a firm glint in his eyes as he jerks his head towards the rest of the room. You’re running on a timer – your mini spiral an unnecessary hurdle. All you have to do is block off that side of your brain, and get the bloody job done.

Although Ghost is still silent as ever, you can feel his looming presence even without being at all in his line of sight.

It’s debilitating.

With more meticulous movements and keener eyes, you look through the drawers. Less desperate, more knowing, because if there’s any doubt that you won’t find it –

“Target is leaving the balcony – I’m ‘bout to lose sight on ‘im,” Ghost’s quick voice starts through your radio. The slight tone of worry has every inch of you on edge. Your wide eyes flicker to Price’s – whose jaw sets.

“Copy, Lieutenant,” Price murmurs, voice low.

The gun strapped to your back feels heavier than before, now, and your hand drifts to the pistol attached to your thigh. The same one that’s come in handy time and time again.

Thud. Thud. Thud.

Footsteps – down the hall. Heading towards –

A hand on the scuff of your neck. A door being pulled open – pitch black.

Your heart thunders in your chest, Price’s hand pressed against your sternum, his chest against yours. The air is tight, and you’re cornered in a…

Closet.

Price pulled you into a closet – and now, you’re stuck with his thigh between yours and his arm outstretched above your head. You feel entirely weak before him, the Captain of the 141.

If it was at all in question, anymore, you would’ve considered that this would be the perfect time to kill you. To be rid of Grave’s right-hand woman, and to cut off any loose ends.

Instead, all you can feel is his warm breath against your forehead.

The footsteps pause, but the creak of the study’s door has your spine rigid all over again. Price presses in closer to you – and you don’t make a single movement. Don’t speak a single word, in case its very syllables are your undoing.

You can’t see, not in this speckled darkness, but price’s very existence feels so strong against your own that you can’t help but shudder a breath.

“Sir – You can’t possibly be serious. Use your damn brain.”

Your ex-Lieutenant General hisses into what you assume is his phone. And by his grating voice dripping with stress? There’s only one man on this Earth that he could be talking to.

Phillip Graves.

You can’t make out what your Commander says in response – not through the small, tinny voice of the phone, but you can pretty much guess his sentiment.

“Most of our men are gone! We can’t take down that bloody Task Force –” He hisses, his voice palpably furious. Without realising it, you find yourself curling in further to Price – his own head ducking down to shield you subconsciously.

The creak of the study’s floorboards, echoing under the weight of the man’s boots, makes your heart pound.

You feel not unlike a small child, hiding from their parents while the sound of yelling and smashing glasses echoes around the room. The long since buried memory of your father – before he left, before he broke your mother’s heart – of dark hair and angry, pulsing veins. The same veins you inherited.

The ones of which you wish you could carve out of your skin, just to watch the fury bleed out.

“Why the fuck is she so important? Good pussy or not –” Your heart, a thud, thud, thud, “ – She’s just a girl. She’s not worth it.”

Price’s hand tightens his hand, unconsciously clasping your throat like it’s a new necklace of yours. It’s oddly comforting, even if it threatens to block your airflow. His chin nearly rests atop your head, so close, but all you get is the waft of cigars and ink.

Graves must respond with something – something that the man just a few feet away from you does not appreciate.

“At this rate, the worst case scenario is that she finds out,” the man starts to pace, the rhythm of his footfalls matching the heaving rises of your chest, “And then what? Get your fucking head in, Commander.”

Your mind’s flooded with possibilities, what could possibly constitute the worst case scenario, when the next sentence shatters you entirely.

“She’s smart, Commander, and she’s gonna want to figure out the truth of dear old mum’s death soon. Don’t be idiotic.”

Silence.

Your ears ring – your throat closes, and your common sense crumbles at your feet. 

The next few moments happen in easy, recognisable steps.

One. You shove Price off of you – not in a way that’d cause him pain, but forceful enough that he can’t push back in time to stop you.

Two. You swing the closet door open, the light flooding your view, along with the large frame of the Lieutenant General.

Three. You slide your trusty pistol from your hollister, flick off the safety, and aim with a shaky grip.

And you shoot.

The bullet slices clean and true through the man’s forehead, blood instantly dripping between his eyes as he falls forward, body slumping, until the phone clatters to the carpet alongside him.

Price yells something. You can’t hear it past the ringing in your ears, the muffled sound that drifts between reality and thought.

Dropping to your knees, you clasp the phone in your grip, blood staining the face of it. You bring it to your ear, hand no longer shaking. Steady as a surgeon.

Graves says something, sounding desperate.

“When I kill you, Commander,” you rasp, and you think you can hear Ghost’s irritating voice through your radio, “I’ll do it the same way I plan to finish Shepherd.”

“You’re gonna regret –” Graves hisses, but all you do is pull the phone from your ear, and press the circular red button.

The line cuts.

A hand falls to your shoulder, shaking you, and it’s only then that the ringing stops, and all of your other senses fall back into place.

The hand moves to the hair at the base of your skull, Price fisting it and pulling your head back to face him. He looks… angry, but it’s softened, somehow, by the understanding in his blue eyes.

“You had one order, Darlin’,” he borderline growls, and your skin prickles, “Tell me what that was.”

A petulant child is what you are. How he’s treating you.

You answer anyway.

“Not to,” you swallow, throat dry, “Not to kill him. Captain, you have to –” His grip on your hair tightens, and your words stop short.

He shakes his head, eyes narrowing. “If you’re gonna let your feelings get in the way of our mission…”

Even though he doesn’t finish his sentence, you understand the meaning of it. You’re acting reckless, growing impatient – risking yourself and others over petty disputes.

Everything feels so difficult, right now, impossible to comprehend. Like your mind’s on auto-pilot, your body, too.

Price releases his grip from your hair, and you find your gaze moving to the body laid in front of you.

And…

A piece of paper – folded – has fallen just beside his jacket’s pocket. You lean forward, clasping it between your hands without a second thought, and open it up with careful movements.

With every word you read, your mouth falls open wider – until you find yourself standing on unsteady feet, tears gathering at the corners of your eyes.

It’s.

“It’s not the contract,” you breathe, realising Price is just watching, waiting, looking out for you. You finally look up from the sheet. 

“It’s something better.”

taglist. @lilpothoscuttings @jng-yuan @iruzias @insatiablekittie @1wh4re1nova @kaoyamamegami @supernaturalstilinski @inthemiddle0feverywhere @msecho19 @nogood-boyo @alfa-jor @lalashhyl @letmeapologise @honeybeeznutz @1mawh0re @oreo-cream @someonepleasedateme @letmeapologise @uhhellnogetoffpleasenowty @inarabee @simp-sentral @littlecellist @clear-your-mind-and-dream @browtfyoudoing @oreo-cream @fanngirl19 @marispunk @emotion-no-hot-yes-hotel-trivago @cedar-bees @xvintageghostx @leiaa34 @thigh-o-saur

[flowercrowngods]

some hurt/comfort cuddles for @t-boyeddie. because you deserve nice things and cuddles

🤍 also on ao3

Steve feels endlessly pathetic pulling up to the Munson trailer with a hammering heart at two in the morning, feeling like he has nowhere else in the world to go. It’s a lie. He knows it’s not true, knows that his brain is lying to him, knows that his thoughts got all tangled up and messy somewhere between noon and midday, knows that all he has to do is breathe through it and just get this day over with.

But he can’t breathe. And he can’t sleep. And he—

He needs a hug. He needs Eddie and his stupid, sweet, lovely koala hugs with his goddamn hair all up in Steve’s face. He needs it so badly that he can’t wait until tomorrow — and now here he is, pulling up to the trailer.

He gasps a little in the silence of the car when he spots a familiar figure sitting on the front steps, a blanket around his shoulders and a cigarette in his hand. Tears spring to his eyes — pathetic little tears that he refuses to allow right now, so he blinks them away. But the longer he looks at Eddie sitting right there, looking up at the approaching car with a smile that’s slowly growing, the more he feels ready to fall apart. And he will, if he’s not held together.

And Eddie is so good at holding him together. Steve needs him close; can’t wait even a second longer.

Steve cuts the engine and is out of the car in one swift move, walking over to wonderful, beautiful Eddie who is gloriously, miraculously awake.

His quick steps on the gravel match the loud, rapid beating of his heart, and then Eddie is getting up, closing the distance between them just as fast, until they’re crashing together in a tangle of arms and a gentle hand on the back of his head that’s pulling him close, close, closer.

“Hey, baby,” Eddie breathes into his cheek, his temple, his hair, and Steve wants to melt into him. Wants to cry now that the world smells like Eddie again, feels like Eddie again; now that the world is Eddie again. “Are you okay?”

He shakes his head where it’s still hidden in the crook of Eddie’s neck, his hands clenching in the soft, worn shirt he’s wearing to sleep. He wants to say, No, not really. Wants to say, It’s stupid. I was just lonely for a little too long. Missed you. Missed you, missed you, missed you.

But he can’t say anything. The words get lodged in his throat and the thought of speaking makes the world feel so overwhelming again, makes him feel like a failure and a fuck-up and all those things his mind tells him that he is on nights like this.

Things that he knows he isn’t. He knows! But knowledge doesn’t protect him on nights like this.

What protects him is the way Eddie sways them gently this way and that, silent in his own right — humming slightly to give Steve something to focus on. It makes his eyes sting again, so he burrow’s further into his love’s neck.

“I’ve got you. Was waiting for you, you know? Had a feeling. Just a feeling, Stevie. So glad you came.”

It’s good. It’s good he’s here. Eddie is glad. Eddie doesn’t judge him or hate him or think he’s too much, think he’s pathetic, think he should talk and explain and be as strong as they both know he can be.

Steve takes a deep breath, inhaling Eddie’s scent, his shampoo, his aftershave, the cigarette smoke and the laundry detergent. It settles him, and he can practically feel his frayed mind smoothing out, can feel his racing heart slow down, can feel his hands unclench from Eddie’s shirt as he breathes like he couldn’t all day and all night.

Once he’s calm enough that he doesn’t feel like he’s about to snap and break and crumble any second now, he slowly lifts his face and meets Eddie’s eyes. Even in the dark, illuminated only by the street lights and scarcely lit porch lamps, he looks so kind. So patient. So genuine.

So, so lovely.

“Hi,” he breathes, carding a hand through Steve’s hair, and Steve feels like a fragile little thing again — but gentler this time, because he knows Eddie is holding him. Because he knows Eddie won’t let go.

“Hi,” he croaks, wanting to try again with the words. It doesn’t feel good, doesn’t feel right. Maybe tonight isn’t for talking then.

“Do you wanna come inside? Stay the night with me? I’d hate to let you go now that I have you, Stevie. How’s that sound?”

He nods before Eddie even finished the first question, watching the smile unfold on his face until it’s full and wide, his hand not stopping its motions through Steve’s hair.

“Come on in, then, beautiful.”

Eddie leads him by the hand, leads him inside, entirely unwilling to let Steve go. He guides him through the dark trailer that Steve knows so well by now and doesn’t let go of his hand even as he makes him sit on the bed.

Steve looks up at him as Eddie steps between his legs and holds him close again, knowing that Steve loves this position. He can hear Eddie’s heart beating like this, can wrap his arms around him completely and just hold on forever and ever as Eddie plays with his hair.

“You’re pretty,” Eddie murmurs then. “And smart. And kind. And I’m incredibly lucky to have you here with me, Stevie. Do you know that?”

He does. It’s not why he’s here. It’s not why he can’t talk tonight. He just… He just needs Eddie.

So he doesn’t react, which is a language they have made for nights like this, and instead holds on even tighter around Eddie’s middle and leans back, falling onto his back on the bed and pulling a laughing Eddie with him, who gets the memo instantly and wraps his entire body around Steve.

The grounding weight of Eddie on top of him is what makes a few of the silent tears fall, because he gets to have this now. Because it’s okay. It’s good. Eddie loves him. He’s not a fuck-up.

Eddie brushes a kiss to his forehead, his nose, his cheek, and holds him. Tells him good things in a soothing tone sometimes that go right over Steve’s head because he’s busy losing himself in the steady beat of Eddie’s heart, the rise and fall of his chest that he’s now resting his cheek on, with Eddie’s arms around his shoulders. He’s focused on the vibrations of his voice that carry through his whole body and right into Steve’s. It’s a magical feeling that he wants to chase, so he trails his fingers down from Eddie’s adam’s apple to the middle of his chest, and up again, every time he talks. It makes Eddie laugh, makes him shiver, makes him brush more kisses to Steve’s forehead.

Quiet cuddles in the dark of Eddie’s room allow Steve to breathe again even as he buries his nose in Eddie’s neck, almost smothering himself just to make him laugh again, call him ridiculous, and tell him, “I love you.”

Steve smiles until he falls asleep still half on top of Eddie, who promises not to let him go. And he doesn’t. He won’t.

[chandlersfuneral]

do right

daryl dixon x fem reader

based on do right by jimmies chicken shack listen

tags: daryl is a shitty boyfriend, angst, smut, rough sex, piv, unprotected sex, hate sex, degrading names, dacryphilia, kinda public sex, sadomasochism, choking, pull out method, no use of y/n.

season 1 daryl (i know this isn’t from twd but i need a cigarette scene)

"won't make the bed up straight

¡ always stay out late

i never take you out

ask what you're all about

i always smell like smoke

everything's just a joke"

you love daryl, of course you do. he's been your boyfriend since before undead beings were even a thought. the apocalypse is a main priority to everyone, sure. but daryl dixon is so fucking lazy when it comes to loving you. showing you he actually, truly loves you.

daryl reeks like cigarettes and doesn't cleanup after himself in the tent you both share at the quarry. but daryl is good at one thing, making you feel good.

"c'mon darlin, i wanna have some fun with ya." daryl grinned, he used both of his hands to grab at your waist with a sense of urgency. it was like he needed you right there, in the middle of the night. but you weren't interested in his advances. you put your hands on top of his like you were into the embrace but quickly threw his hands away.

"what? you don want me now?" daryl scoffed and tried to take another grab at you. "no, daryl, i love you. but you only show you want me when you wanna fuck me and i'm tired of it." you turn to walk away but with one swift motion, you felt a gruff, callous hand grab at your wrist.

"c'mon now, i'm sorry. you know life is tough right now. i don't have time for that lovey-dovey shit." daryl tried his best to make his apology sound sincere. it didn't come off that way, not to you.

you still gave in though. he had a way with his words, his body language. you missed the sex, you missed the intensity of it, the way he made you feel. "alright. let's go to our tent." you spoke in a nonchalant tone, you couldn't let him win by letting him know how much you actually wanted him.

"nuh uh, m' gonna have you right here." the giggle daryl let out shocked you. did he know you were going to give in this whole time? did daryl know how much you wanted him?

"what do you--" your words were cut off by his lips clashing with yours. his for-once moisturized lips felt so nice against yours. daryl's tongue wasted no time to slip between your lips to dance with yours. he placed his hands back to where they resided earlier on your hips.

"i want you right here, right now." daryl huffed as his lips traced from your lips, to your jawline, then stayed kissing on your neck. those sloppy, rough kisses earned a whimper from your mouth. the moans and whimpers turned him on. his cock growing bigger in his dickies pants.

"c'mon girl, don' go quiet on me." daryl encouraged you to be as loud as you wanted. in the dead of night, all that could be heard was wet sloppy sounds from daryl and faint whimpers from you.

"god, daryl. i just fucking hate your guts sometimes." you huffed with his lips still trailing all over your neck and collarbones. those seething words didn't stop him at all. frankly he just moved faster, he just continued kissing down your body from your breasts, to your belly, to the waistband of your shorts.

"you hate me, huh?" daryl just kept leaving sloppy kisses and hickeys on your body while his hands trailed back to your breasts, ignoring the words that you were using to try and hurt him. it was actually working though, daryl felt heat in his face and ears. but it didn't matter, all that could be seen was his silhouette in the still night.

daryl wanted to prove you wrong. prove that you adored him, that you were addicted to the way his cock and his personality made you feel.

slowly, he stopped kissing you and let go of your breasts. he replaced those hands and started to unbuckle his belt. the black dickies that hugged his waist dropped to the floor, his boxers falling with them. his painfully hard cock bounced up against his toned stomach.

daryl didn't drop his belt though. instead, he placed the leather belt around his neck. this rattled your brain. you've never seen this side of daryl. the times between you and him were fast and boring. no excitement, nothing.

getting down on your knees to give daryl head was something of muscle memory. you just sat there, in awe of the sight standing before you. daryl. standing cock out, with only a shirt on and his belt wrapped tightly around his neck

"why don't you show me how much you fuckin' hate me while my cock is down your throat." daryl spoke slyly. his tone laced with wrath but also extreme amounts of lust.

feeling nearly braindead from everything happening all at once, you wrapped your plush lips around his throbbing cock. your tongue danced around the tip, tasting his precum. the taste of him made you shiver around him. your lips stretched around him but it only made you want him more.

daryl had your hair in a ponytail with one hand to further push your head down on his cock, your nose touched his pubic mound several times from the excessive deepthroating. his other hand had a death grip on the belt. daryl extended his arm all the way out to feel that intense grip around his neck he so desperately craved.

moans escaped his throat that sounded like they were being choked out of him. this time they literally were. by his own hands.

then there were whimpers and choked-out cries coming from you, but the reason being daryl's cock was being shoved down your throat leaving you not much time to breathe.

"god, you're a dirty little whore. look at you choking up." daryl couldn't help but giggle and place two fingers on both sides of your nostrils to completely cut off your airway. of course, only for a few seconds, daryl would never physically hurt his whore.

"c'mon now, girl. get up." daryl took the belt off his neck swiftly and tossed it on the ground. now daryl's knees were being pressed into the soft, wet grass. while you were still searching for air, the masochistic man in front of you tugged your short shorts down. the pool of slick that had gathered in your panties made daryl's blue eyes go wide. did the fact that daryl was choking himself while you gave him a blowjob turn you on?

"you still hate me, darlin?" the chuckle that left daryl's lips made him sound nearly maniacal. he knew you didn't hate him, but he wanted to push your limits.

daryl threw his hand into your panties and gathered your wetness from your cunt and onto your clit. his fingers started making comically slow circles. daryl wanted to make you regret saying such foul things to him.

you too got down on your knees to meet his sinful gaze. looked daryl in his dark eyes and seethed a

"fuck you." you were also down to play dirty, but your pain-loving boyfriend was so much better at it.

daryl spun you around so your plush ass and sopping wet cunt were now perfectly in his view. he sat and took a good look at the beautifully wrecked sight in front of him. seconds later, the tip of his hard cock was pushed against your cunt. teasing you, the teasing was madness. daryl even pushed his own limits by how long he was playfully rubbing his tip against you.

the teasing came to an abrupt end when daryl heard your cries. genuine little sobs escaped your mouth. the overstimulation and the empty feeling in your cunt brought you to tears. those quiet little sobs brought joy to daryl's ears. with one quick thrust, daryl's cock was balls deep inside your cunt.

low grunts, sobs, and the sound of wet skin slapping skin filled the otherwise silent air. daryl's cock repeatedly hit that sweet spot in your walls

daryl could feel your climax coming the way your cunt squeezed his oversized cock.

"c'mon baby, let go." even though you didn't need permission, daryl giving you the go-ahead made your orgasm feel like ecstasy.

but daryl wasn't finished. you had came two more times and the overstimulation was really getting to you. your thighs shook violently against his. your quiet whimpers became full-on sobs from the overwhelming sensation between your legs. these tears streaming down your cheeks mixed with your violent cries and the hot wetness of your cunt finally brought the man to finish.

turns out daryl wasn't just a masochist, but a sadomasochist. your sobs were like music to his ears and it finally brought on the sensation he was doing everything to achieve.

quickly, daryl pulled out and stroked his pink flushed cock tight in his hand, unconsciously bucking his hips into his fist.

"yeah, baby. keep cryin' for me." these words left his wet lips as white ropes poured from his slit and onto your back.

daryl finally finishing brought a wave of relief over your body, causing your knees to give out. your body laid sprawled out onto the moist grass.

"are you okay, darlin?" daryl bent down and his fucked out eyes met yours. the familiar calloused hand swiped your tears away and brushed your sweaty bangs away from your face.

a soft 'mhm' left your mouth while daryl did his best to clean you up with his t-shirt.

n/a: okay i just wrote what came to me. this ended differently than i wanted because half the text got deleted. if you've seen that clip of norman reedus circling on here, ykyk.

[sunschay]

Love on the Brain || Natasha Romanoff x Reader

You and Natasha have been in a complicated relationship for three long years. You share an apartment (near the Avengers complex) and have to live with each other every day amidst fights and lies. Natasha still wonders if it's worth sustaining a toxic and unbalanced relationship that is slowly killing her every day.

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Neutral!Gender Reader.

Based on the song Love on the Brain by Rihanna.

Warnings: Toxic relationship, abusive behavior (from both parties), brief dubious smut, manipulation, breaking furniture.

Note: Everything written below could involve anything but love, plus I really don't support it.

Word count: 1, 753 words.

They had been waiting for her all night. The smell of nicotine, tar and old booze made the apartment feel even smaller, cramped and suffocating as Natasha stepped inside. She felt a chill run through her and her stomach twist, knowing what was coming next. What had she gotten herself into when she refused all her friends' advice? She should have gotten out of this when she had the chance, but she just couldn't, their arms and their charm seemed to hold her back after every violent argument. After every heated argument came lies disguised as broken love.

“Where have you been?” The indifferent and authoritative voice asked as she closed the door, turning the bunch of keys and putting them in her bag again.

“I went out with the girls, we went to the movies. Wanda and Carol, I warned you earlier.” She replied trying to remain calm and collected.

Y/n was in one of the armchairs in the corner, sitting in front of a table with empty bottles and an ashtray with cigarette butts. Natasha hated that smell. She especially hated the way Y/n spoke to her after indulging in those things. Their violent behavior was unbearable. Romanoff had to be firm. Their eyes were full of dark circles, their skin pale, their eyes dead with fatigue.

“No, you didn't. You just walked out and left me standing here like a fucking puppet! Look at me, Natasha. Fucking look at me.” Y/n growled, walking over to her and grabbed her chin, their cold eyes looking at her with menace. “Why do you do this to me, baby?”

And you got me like, oh

Natasha wrinkled her nose, trying to free herself from their grip on her chin, her wrist being grabbed next and the smell of alcohol and strong perfume made her head spin, leaving her disoriented and worried. She knew they had no control, Wanda warned her of this many times, how dangerous they could become. But Natasha preferred to believe that their love for her would never hurt her, she wanted to feel safe and loved.

“Y/n, get your hands off me, please. You smell like whiskey and that shitty cigarette! Please.” Natasha shouted, a hand pushing them away but they barely moved and Natasha pushed harder, watching them stagger slightly with a cynical smile. 

“What did I tell you, doll? They're no good for you. They manipulate you. Wanda was talking shit about me last week, isn't that enough for you?” Y/n groaned, jaw clenched and dark eyebrows raised. “Come here.”

What you want from me?

“They must have had a reason. Look at the state you're in, you're almost rotting here. Can you stop yelling at me?” Natasha asked, equally upset. 

“Come here, Romanoff!” They shouted, their voices already able to be heard by the rest of the neighborhood outside. 

And I tried to buy your pretty heart

Natasha reluctantly approached, feeling their hands grab her waist and hug her tightly, their long fingers running through her red hair. Before, Natasha would have felt safe, now she felt agony, because no matter how many fights it took to make her stay, none of them would truly end with Y/n. 

“You belong to me, Natasha. Whether you like it or not, you know that. I'm sorry for yelling.” They whispered, and Natasha melted slightly, her arms wrapping around their backs as she tried to calm herself. 

“I will always belong to you. Always. I'm sorry I didn't let you know.” She reaffirmed, her heart tight and heavy. 

Suddenly, they stopped, and their nose came to rest on Romanoff's neck, brushing the skin and their lips pressed together before they abruptly pulled away. Natasha frowned in confusion, staring at the furious expression she was deeply afraid of again, Natasha's heart skipped a beat. 

“What the fuck is this!? You smell like fucking Rogers!” They screamed, startling Natasha who rolled her eyes and tried to stand her ground again. 

But the price too high

Baby you got me like, oh

“He's my friend, Y/N! We only hugged once, I didn't know Steve would suddenly appear!” She exclaimed, becoming equally irritated with her beloved. 

“You hugged once and that shit is enough to make him excited about you, his scent is stuck to you, dammit!” They responded in a raised voice. 

Natasha's eyes widened, seeing Y/n pick up one of the glasses she had left with half-drunk whiskey and throw it at the window, shattering it into several sharp shards on the floor. They kicked the table, a crash filling the apartment as she broke each chair leg by leg and Natasha swallowed hard, tears welling up in her eyes, the tip of her nose red. 

“Why the fuck are you crying now?” They asked, a cold smile appearing on their beautiful lips. 

You love when I fall apart

“You can't just be serious, I'm telling the truth, can't you put your ego aside for once and try to talk to me, Stark?” She asked, her lips starting to tremble. “He's always been my friend. You know that, he's always been with all of us!”

“He doesn't want to be your fucking friend, okay!? That's not even a little bit complicated to understand, shit. It's clear what he feels around you, you're trying to blame that little shit but you're the problem.” They exclaimed, seeing a lone tear run down Natasha's face. 

“Am I the problem then? Aren't you the one who says that when there is a problem it has to be eliminated or made to disappear? You are a fucking imbecile.” Natasha shouted back, her eyes now brimming with heavy tears. 

Romanoff turned, tugging at the tight gray dress that insisted on riding up, her trembling fingers gripping the ring of keys. She reached for the door, ready to open it and leave Y/n and their fucked up minds behind when a long hand slammed against the door, stopping her from leaving. 

So you can put me together

And throw me against the wall

Natasha felt her body being pulled across the room, the strong grip on her wrist making her groan in pain and slam her hand into their shoulders and back, but she wasn't as strong as she tried. The redhead whimpered, feeling her body being pushed into a wall with force, her heart racing and a small burning pain spreading across the back of her neck. She continued to punch them in the shoulders and back, trying at all costs to get out of Y/n's grip.

“I didn't tell you you could leave, doll. Don't make this difficult. Please, Nat.” They asked, holding one of her hands, bringing it so she could hear their accelerated heartbeat. 

“Y/N. Please, I'm begging you, please. Let me go.” She asked, her voice tearful. 

Baby, you got me like, I

Even though Natasha hated to admit it, she didn't want to leave. She wanted to pick up every piece of this stupid fight and kiss Y/N, smell them, she wanted this night to end well. She loved them with all her heart and soul. And deep down she knew they loved her too. But everything seemed so far from over, it destroyed her, made her feel weak, small. 

Woo, I

“He needs to know that you're mine, my Nat, my sweet girl. I love you.” Y/n whispered, holding her face and kissing her slowly. 

Don't you stop loving me (loving me)

Don't quit loving me (loving me)

Natasha melted into the kiss, the shift from their turbulent violence to loving calm making Natasha's heart warm. She gripped the back of their neck, kissing them back with force and need, her hands gripping their hair and pulling slowly. 

“I love you, Stark. Please never let me go.” She asked between kisses, feeling drugged and drunk on "love." 

Just start loving me, ooh (loving me)

Natasha moaned as Y/n pulled her hair, her eyes rolling back as cold hands ran up her slightly exposed thighs and pressed her against the wall, keeping her trapped. Natasha loved this, no matter how fucked up or weird it might seem. She wanted them to make her theirs. Completely and solely theirs. 

And, babe

I'm fist-fighting with fire

Just to get close to you

Romanoff allowed Stark to lift her skirt further, their fingers entering their own mouth before sliding their hand between the redhead's legs and dipping their hand inside the thin lace panties she wore. Natasha bit her lip, letting out a loud, shamelessly bold moan as the slender fingers worked on her clit, rubbing the fingerprints slowly and firmly across her swollen clit. 

Can we burn something, babe?

“Love, please, fuck. Fuck, Y/n.” Natasha moaned, her head falling back against the wall, her eyes closing tightly in ecstasy. 

And I'd run for miles just to get a taste

Must be love on the brain

“Tell me what you want from me, doll. Want to feel good?” Y/n asked in a husky, teasing voice, their eyes darkening as they stared at her. 

“Fuck me. Fuck me right here on the wall.” Natasha asked, her voice sly and her green eyes dilating rapidly. 

That's got me feeling this way (feeling this way)

“Good girl. Keep looking at me while I fuck your tight pussy.” They said softly, fingers thrusting and thrusting repeatedly into Natasha's tight, wet heat as she only began to moan louder and louder. 

It beats me black and blue, but it fucks me so good

Their free hand reached Natasha's neck, their pale fingers circling Romanoff's skin like a snake as they choked her, her breath escaping her several times, and as she caught her breath, they repeated it. She should hate this, should hate being treated so fucking badly while being fucked. But she loved it, her pussy throbbed for it. She parted her lips, feeling their fingers pull away as her orgasm came, over that long, heavenly hand. 

And I can't get enough

“God. I hate you.” Natasha whimpered, seeing in the reflection of the living room mirror long purple bruise marks on her neck. 

Must be love on the brain.

Natasha groaned as her body was turned against the wall, feeling the zipper of her dress being almost ripped off as her dress was taken out of her pocket and heard Y/n rummage through her bag, grabbing her phone and keys. She hated being controlled, hated how Y/n tried to manipulate her with her false innocence and endless charm. 

“Don't expect to go out with your friends any time soon.”

The redhead watched Y/n disappear into the shadows with her things and Natasha sobbed, feeling her throat ache and her body heavy. This wasn't love. She would never come close to it, it was control, power, sex.

Natasha had Love on her Brain.

[gingerteafairy]

𝐜𝐫𝐮𝐭𝐜𝐡 (𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐲 𝐛𝐞𝐫𝐳𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐨 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫)

"I love you." And then he froze. No cigarette, drug, morphine or any crutch could compare to that moment. It was the first time in years he felt peace.

tags: angst, anxiety, depression, drugs. word count: 810

0:31

Carmy often complained about how his apartment felt like a asylum, the closest thing to hell. Everything seemed out of place, disorganized, meaningless. Empty.

He needed to redecorate.

The bookshelf looked like something you'd find in a junkyard, piled high with trash. His clothes were scattered everywhere, shoes flipped upside down. The smell of his sheets and the clothes he had worn for days, even though they were past the point of being clean. Sometimes, the plumbing would fail, and he'd have to shout in frustration and accept yet another day without a shower.

01:29

He needed to move.

None of this felt real, normal. His parents fought constantly, his siblings complained, and his entire life seemed better on the other side.

He, himself, seemed better outside.

Everything looked perfect from the outside, with his talent and all the praise he received, even amidst the constant chaos of the restaurant—the shouting, the fights that made him roll his eyes. Nothing made sense.

2:00 AM

He needed a new life.

You: Carmy, I’m sorry. I fell asleep.

Her message interrupted his spiraling thoughts, forcing him to swallow hard and regain his composure.

Carmy: It’s fine. Don’t worry. I was still awake.

You: What happened?

The message glowed on his screen, read only a few minutes ago. She was waiting for a response, nervous, in another city. Just as messy as he was.

Carmy: Same old crap. Don’t worry about it.

He replied, breathing heavily, massaging his temples. His hair was a mess, as it always was in his usual chaos. He looked so beautiful, even in the disarray.

I should get therapy.

02:45

Carmy: One day, I’ll get out of here. One day, I’ll change all of this. I need you. I’m sorry for this.

You: Don’t apologize. Everything will be okay, one day. For both of us.

And so, another night passed. The day came and went, and the night lingered longer than it should. Like a torment that never quite leaves. Chef, Sugar, Mom, Sydney, Jimmy, Richie, Mike. What was wrong?

It was all so confusing, even the cars in Chicago seemed to move slower through his fogged mind. His head felt submerged underwater, the lack of oxygen warping his nervous system. Anxiety. How much air does someone need to stay afloat?

I should quit smoking.

"You know, I’ve always hated smokers," she started, her voice soft, a faint laugh following her words.

Carmy glanced at her, subconsciously lowering his cigarette as guilt weighed in his eyes. "If it bothers you, I can stop…"

"I’d look at those people with disgust, judging them, like I was better than them," she continued, her gaze distant, a sad smile tugging at her lips—one Carmy had learned to appreciate, despite its melancholy. She was broke, like him."I was so stupid. They didn’t deserve that."

"So what made you change your mind?" he asked, hesitant.

"I didn’t," she added, drawing a laugh from him. "Cigarettes are terrible, but at least they’re not as miserable as vaping or using needles."

"To the classics," he joked, raising his cigarette like a champagne glass, placing it poetically between his cracked lips, the cold air and dehydration of the night evident.

"But..." She took a breath, the warmth of her exhale mixing with the cheap cocoa butter on her lips. "You’re the only exception."

He smiled weakly. Her hair bounced as she looked at him, golden curls, eyes a deep blue—matching the sorrow of the world reflected in his tired gaze. Carmy was angelic, celestial. No image or sculpture could truly capture his beauty. That pure innocence, which wasn’t sensual but somehow carried desire.

"Thank you." He smiled, finishing his last drag before tossing the cigarette to the ground and stomping it out with his foot. "But I really should quit. I’m just using it as a crutch."

"I can’t judge you. I buy expensive skincare, thinking it’ll make up for a good night’s sleep and healthy food." She joked, and he laughed—just for a second, everything felt right. "Carmy."

"What?" He looked at her, the neon lights from The Bear shining on her face. Two dreams collided in that moment, competing for space in his heart. Drowning in the blue glow of the city’s decorations.

"I love you."

And then he froze. Like the storm inside him had suddenly calmed, as if he were floating on still waters. No cigarette, drug, morphine or any crutch could compare to that moment. The world stopped. It was the first time in years he felt peace.

"I love you too. A lot."

When he was with her, everything felt perfect. This was where he wanted to be. For the first time, he didn’t want to run from himself anymore, because she was there to embrace his mess. And that was what made Carmy Berzatto, Carmy.

taglist:

@aquazero divider