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whxre-bxby · 2 years

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Enzo (Dmitri Antonov)

Stranger things is a beautiful series, and while I am simping for Steve Harrington, Eddie Munson and Billy Hargrove, Enzo has a different effect on me and I love this man.

SEASON 4 IS GREAT, ALL WRITERS GET TO WORK. I literally cracked my neck and stretched my fingers and started writing after I finished it:)

Warnings: mature content, NSFW, smut, fluff, ANGST, Age gap (we love it), unprotected sex, claiming, breeding kink

I woke up feeling cold again. The temperature harshly reminded me of where I was. The Russian prison, located in god knows where. The thin blanket I curled up in every night for the past 3 and a half weeks, brought me little comfort and warmth. I'd say it is completely useless but I still sleep in it, hoping every night that it will warm me.

I ended up here because I stole files from the Russian government. Sensitive files, with the information they didn't want the world to see. Each country has files like these because each country has corrupt and cruel people at the top of the pyramid, we just don't know about all of them.

I used the files to hack into databases with their given codes, to find missing people and see the real reasons people died.

Apparently, I wasn't as slick as I thought and found myself seeing the same few vans and cars on a daily basis. They would either park outside the place I was in or would slowly drive next to me while I was walking and then speed off. It was obviously suspicious and I noticed it straight away, but when I moved from city to city, state to state, they followed. That's when I realised that I couldn't escape them and before I could get any sort of help, I was stuck in an alley, the black cars blocking off both exits and apparently taken here. I don't remember it that well, I think they knocked me out with something. When I woke up here, I was cold and had different clothes on. My cell was and is dirty, the walls all out of stone and cement and I was fed the most disgusting food. A bowl of brown or grey goo with rock hard bread twice a day.

I had a guard who was assigned to give me the food every day. I hated him in the beginning because he was one of them. While the other guards would just open the cell door and chuck the food on the floor he knocked and then placed it on the ground gently or walked up to me and put it in my hands.

Most of their prisoners would do labour work but they knew I wouldn't be 'suited' for that. Instead, the General had 'better' ideas planned. They had men as prisoners that were hard to control and they made a deal with them, that they would behave and follow instructions and not injure any more guards if they would get an hour with me a week. And I had no say in this whatsoever. They were all disgusting misogynistic men here. Fucking pigs.

The first time they threw me in a cell with a man to 'contain' him and fulfil his natural needs and I fought him off with all my strength. I screamed and scratched his face and body. It was awful being locked in a dark cold cell with a brutal horny man. That was by far the most traumatising thing I have ever experienced. My screams and cries must have been heard all over the prison.

So the next time they 'needed' me, I was brought into a different enclosed room with guards and the General all around me. They held me in place as one of them took out a syringe and filled it with some type of fluid, before injecting it into the main artery on my arm. It took about 5 minutes for the chemicals to kick in and I started feeling lightheaded and dizzy. Once my brain couldn't comprehend what was happening anymore and my body was too weak, they carried me back into the cell with the man. As much as I hated, feared and despised the situation, I preferred being injected because I couldn't remember anything after waking up. The scene I had once witnessed, I never wanted to experience again.

Dmitri was on break with five other guards and they were all playing cards at a table before my screams bellowed through the cold stone building. He instantly froze and looked at the others who seemed unfazed by it. Since I was the only female for about 100 miles and through my scream, one could identify my sex, Dmitri knew straight away that it was me.

He dropped his cards. " I should go check on her." he said in Russian to his colleagues.

"Hey, sit down you idiot. Can't you tell? Those are cries of joy." Another man said (in Russian), chuckling to himself and the others grinned. Dmitri didn't know what was going on.

"Fucking bitch had it coming." The man sat next to him said.

"What are they doing?" Dmitri asked, sounding more demanding and worried than curious.

The guards froze and it was silent before the eldest one replied. "They didn't tell you because they think you like her." he grinned before speaking again. "What do you think a woman is good for? Huh? Especially here. She can't do anything. So the general assigned her to the man in cell 12, to keep him under control." Everyone knew that the man in cell 12 was a pain in the ass to handle.

Dmitri couldn't believe what he was hearing. The guard rolled his eyes. "You know what they want her for. Don't make me explain it." he spoke coldly, not seeming bothered by the situation but finding it amusing. "And calm down, otherwise they will really believe you like her. You will be out of here for that."

Dmitri stayed quiet, for he knew there wasn't much he could do to help me.

An hour later he heard footsteps outside the breakroom and watched as guards walked past, one of them carrying me over his shoulder. Dmitri noticed I wasn't awake because of the way I swayed like a ragdoll with each step the man took and he hoped that I was alive.

This happened for the next 3 weeks, the rest of the time I was locked in my cell or the General would tie me to a chair with minimal clothes on, stripping me of any dignity I had left, and just sat close to me and stared while smoking a cigar. I wasn't treated like a person here. My rights went out the window the second they loaded me into their car. I was pushed around, touched and neglected. It got to the point where I didn't question anything anymore or fight at all. I just obeyed and in my cell, sat in my usual corner in silence, blankly staring at a wall.

The only thing that stopped me from completely giving up was the one guard, Dmitri. He treated me better. Obviously not well because he would get fired for that, but he wasn't cruel. He talked to me sometimes, and even though I often felt too weak to respond, I listened to him. I learned that he was called Dmitri. Even though I normally would have been able to pronounce his name because it wasn't that difficult, with the state I am in, I couldn't. So he told me to just call him Enzo.

He made me feel a little better about the situation I was in. But soon, he stopped coming to my cell. I waited a few days and he hadn't shown up. I didn't ask the new guard anything, just in case he got in trouble because of me.

The silence of my cell was disrupted when someone hit their first against the door and it was opened. The general was standing outside, accompanied by two guards.

"Get up, sexy. We have plans for you." He spoke and I obeyed again, following him. It was only shortly after that I realised we passed cell 12 and I was curious about what was happening.

We then arrived at an open cell, without enclosed walls and they unlocked the door. There were a few men inside it, watching the situation. I tried avoiding eye contact and just stood put until I was once again shoved inside. They closed the door behind me and the General said.

"You die tomorrow. They do too. Be so kind and give them a show. Make their last day worth living." he grinned at me before turning to the others in the cell. "Do what you want with her." he mumbled and walked off after securing the lock on the door. I watched them walk away and then slowly turned around. Most of them were staring at me and one disgusting man licked his lips. I ignored them all and sat on the bench against the wall, starting to shiver.

"You heard him, give us a show." One man laughed and a few others chuckled. He took a few steps towards me and started mumbling things to himself in Russian which I couldn't understand. Before he got too close, a man who had his back turned the whole time stood up, putting himself in the path of the other prisoner.

"You lay one finger on her, and I promise you, you won't have hands anymore. " he growled and the man swore at him before retreating back to his previous spot.

I looked at the man who stood up for me and recognized him once her turned around. It was Enzo. But he looked a lot worse. The man was covered in cuts and bruises. He smiled a little at me and sat down on the bench with me, keeping his distance though.

We talked for a while about how we got here until it got late and I somehow managed to fall asleep. Enzo didn't sleep at all. He stayed up all night, to make sure no one would come close to me.

In the morning we were taken out of the cell to prepare to fight the monster they kept locked up in another cell. The monster seemed impatient and there was a malfunction in the system, which opened and unlocked all doors. Meaning, everyone including the monster was free.

Enzo and I discussed that we wanted to escape last night, but it wouldn't work without a miracle. He and I exchanged eye contact. This was our miracle. Most of the guards were assigned downstairs to hold to doors of the Demogorgon's cell but once it broke free, most of them had been killed within a matter of seconds. Enzo and I were obviously also in danger but I had no idea where to go. He however knew his way around the facility and grabbed my wrist, pulling me behind him. We sprinted through hallways, taking sharp turns here and there before we ended up outside the prison. We heard screams of the victims of the Demogorgon and it just made us run faster. Enzo had led me to the car park and we quickly got into a white van and he managed to drive off. I had never felt that much adrenaline in my entire life.

We didn't know where we were going, but we knew with that thing on the loose, we had to drive far from it. After about 2 full hours of driving at top speed through the snow and through the woods, we found a small village. It was only about 5 houses and a small church and it was completely abandoned. No one was anywhere to be seen. Enzo and I hadn't exchanged a single word throughout the whole car ride. We were both still in shock. So when we entered a small house, we were finally relieved and able to let our guard down.

It was warmer than the cells and we found food, which we both instantly devoured.

The escape took up the whole day and we were both tired. Night fell quicker than Chrissy's bones snapped (I'm not sorry) and when we looked for beds we saw that there was only one bedroom with a double bed.

My face got a little red and he cleared his throat. "I can take the floor if you want." he offered and I smiled. Such a gentleman. Like I was going to let that happen after all he did for me.

"No way, you take the bed. You deserve it more." I said and he chuckled slightly.

"I don't think that's fair." he replied smiling.

"We can share it. I don't mind." I say, managing to contain my blush and push my sinful thoughts away.

Enzo looked at me for a while and then nodded. I proceeded to go through the drawers of the closet and found some clean clothes, pulling them out and throwing the onto a corner of the bed. Enzo stood silently, watching me.

I turned around to face him and smiled softly.

"Thank you by the way. For everything. " I say, breaking the silence.

"I don't think I was much help. You managed to survive on your own." he said softly.

"I wouldn't have... you made me want to wake up each morning." I confess, staring at my feet.

I saw him smile at what I said, but then he looked away. He looked guilty of something.

"What is it?" I ask. He still doesn't dare to look at me. I walk up to him, looking at his face and slowly reach for his hand. His gaze shifts down to my fingers holding on to his. We have never touched before and the physical contact sent shivers up both our spines. Finally, Enzo looked at me. But his expression was sad.

"I could have done more for you. I'm so sorry for everything that you experienced in there. Please, just know that I never wanted any of that to happen." he whispers.

"It's okay, I'm able to deal with it now. I appreciate what you did do. If you would have done more, they might have killed you on the spot."

"If it would mean that you would be free and safe, then it would have been worth it." he softly whispers again. My eyes become glossy and watery as I stare into his sad ones. I can't stop myself and just hug him. My arms wrap tightly around his waist and I feel Enzo tense up before he lets his arms fall and holds my head against his chest. We stay like that for a while, because damn did we need that hug.

When we pull away I look up at him with big doe eyes, just admiring him. He then gently tucks a strand of hair that fell in front of my face, behind my ear and I just melt. This is the first time we showed affection to one another.

"You're gorgeous. Moya prekrasnaya devushka." (my beautiful girl) he whispers, gliding his thumb over my cheek and admiring the sight in front of him.

My eyes flicker from his to his lips, hinting that I want to kiss him. I've wanted to kiss him since he started talking to me in my cell. Enzo got the message and carefully cupped my face, leaning down until our foreheads touched and he looked at me, wanting me to give him consent by connecting our lips. He wanted to make sure I wanted this because the last thing he wanted to do was to make me feel like he used me as the other men did.

I moved my head up and stood slightly on my toes until our lips finally connected. It was a soft and long kiss. We didn't move our jaws, we just stayed in the moment, loving the new contact.

I slowly pulled away and opened my eyes again.

"You can't imagine how long I've wanted that." he said, his voice a key lower now.

"I think I can." I reply and before he can process it, I press my lips against his again. He seems surprised but is the happiest man alive and would never want me to stop.

We kiss more passionately now and I run my hands down his clothed chest, making him shiver in anticipation again. He finally feels down my own body, exploring almost every bit because it's been ages since he's been with a woman. And a woman as beautiful as you, he couldn't believe his luck.

Enzo's hands stay above my ass, on my lower waist. He's trying to be polite and not pressure me into anything. As much as I appreciate his concern, I just want him to fuck me so badly at this point, I'm close to begging. I take my hands off his chest and grab his wrists, moving his hands down to my ass. He doesn't move them until I press my body flush against his, receiving a groan of praise from him. Then, his hands dig into the flesh of my ass and he pulls my waist against his crotch. I moan into his mouth, in hope to cut him loose from his restraints and it works. The noise he managed to push out of me turned him on so much he had to pull away and start unbuttoning his shirt. I pulled mine off in the meanwhile and when he looked up at me, I felt my stomach twist with excitement. His pupils dilated to the point where his eye colour was barely visible. He was so lust drunk by the sight in front of him, that his brain stopped functioning.

To top it off I pulled my pants down and stepped out of them, while Enzo just stared. I attached my hands to his pants and that managed to snap him out of his trance. He hastily unbuckled his belt while I opened his zipper and pulled the fabric down to his ankles.

We were both in only underwear now and turned on to the point where we couldn't keep our hands off each other.

Our bodies collided and wrapped one leg around him. Enzo's hands travelled down under my ass and he squeezed my thighs, signalling for me to jump. I obeyed him and he carried me with care towards the bed and gently placed me onto the mattress. He attached his lips to my neck and then left a trail of small peppered kisses down my body.

His hands then reached up to my bra and he carefully tugged at the cloth, looking up at me.

"Can I?" he asked and I nodded arching my back so he could reach behind me and unhook my bra. He then threw it to the side and scanned my bare chest in adoration again

"So beautiful." He mumbled before cupping one with his hands and kissing the other one. I hummed in appreciation and ran my hands along his muscly shoulders. His hands then moved to my abdomen and he looked up at me for consent again. Without him having to ask this time, I nodded, biting my lip and lifting my waist up so he could pull my panties down my legs. When Enzo threw them to the side he moaned when he saw all of me.

"Y/N you look like an angel." he mumbled before slowly gliding his fingers through my folds and dipping them into my slick. As much as I would have enjoyed that, I needed him too bad for him to continue his torturous exploring. I held his wrist and he looked up at me, confused.

"As good as that feels, I just need to feel you inside me. Please." I whine and he chuckles.

"Needy little dove. Anything for you." he replies and pulls his boxer shorts down, his huge fucking cock springing free. I gulped when I looked at it. It was so thick and the length was perfect. I watched it throb and admired the pulsing vein leading from his abdomen to his tip. He saw my reactions and chuckled again before climbing on top of me again, kissing me. Enzo aligned his dick with my entrance and needed my consent again before starting. I groaned and dragged my nails along his back.

"Enzo please, just fuck me already." I tell him, and if it were possible, Enzo got evermore horny. He nodded, his breathing becoming irregular, and he slowly pushed his tip in. We both needed more, so he just slid all of himself into me with ease. His head dropped into the crook of my neck and he moaned. " So tight.." he said, making it sound almost like a whimper.

"Please move." I beg him and he does just as I say, starting at a slow rhythm. I moan at how he fills me perfectly and wrap my legs around his waist, pulling him in deeper each time.

Soon Enzo can't stop himself from speeding up and we both started moaning uncontrollably. He had me gripping the bedsheets or scratching his back as if my life depended on it while he propped himself up above me, focusing on the angle he was entering me. When he hit my G-spot I moaned such a pornographic sound, he knew he had found it and started to relentlessly fuck into me with speed and strength, making sure he hit it every time. My body jolted in response and I started forgetting about space and time. All that mattered in this moment was Enzo. And all I could think of was how well he was fucking me. Pounding me like there was no tomorrow. Our skin slapped together, red marks covering our bodies and coating them with shiny shimmering sweat.

"Holy fuck I'm close-" I moan and am cut off by the pleasure I feel again.

"Me too, printsessa. Me too, just hold on." He groans, his eyelids fluttering closed. He felt his own orgasm build up and knew he wouldn't last much longer either. After a few more brutal thrusts he gave in.

"Cum with me, cum baby." he moaned and that was all I needed to push me over the edge. My back arched and I pressed my breasts against his chest and I moaned again. My pussy clenched around his dick and milked him for all he was worth. That's when his hot, thick ropes of cum filled me up. He put his weight on me and held me down while he emptied his balls into my fucked out pussy.

Once we both came down from our high, Enzo slowly pulled out of me and rolled up so I could get some air. We steadied our breath for a few seconds before looking at each other and laughing.

"I'll give you a few minutes, then we can go again." he says, smirking. My eyes widen and it seems to amuse him. He knew I was already fucked out.

"Baby, I haven't been with a woman for more than a year. I can do this all night." he tells me, his voice all scruffy but fuck, so hot.

And I was not about to complain.

#enzo antonov #enzo stranger things #enzo #dmitri antonov #stranger things #stranger things 4 #smut #fanfiction #fluff #oneshot #reader insert #female reader

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red-black-aesthetic-bout · 1 year

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Round one matchups under the cut!!

EDIT: ROUND ONE IS CLOSED. CHECK PINNED FOR ROUND TWO

Bracket 1

Ruby Rose (RWBY) vs. Vanitas (Kingdom Hearts)

Mello (Death Note) vs. Rhaenyra Targaryern (House of the Dragon)

Kuga Yuma (World Trigger) vs. Kiki (Kiki's Delivery Service)

Clifford (Clifford the Big Red Dog) vs. Dracula (Castlevania)

Kai Satou (Your Turn to Die) vs. Ladybugs/Ladybirds (real life)

Zuko (Avatar: the Last Airbender) vs. Kuro (Katamari)

Kate (Shadows House) vs. The Cat (Ghost Trick)

Wanda Maximoff/Scarlet Witch (Marvel comics) vs. Red X (Teen Titans)

Elric of Melniboné (The Elric Saga/Michael Moorcock's Eternal Champion Multiverse) vs. Naomi Armitage (Armitage the Third)

Alucard (Hellsing Ultimate) vs Keith Kogane (Voltron: Legendary Defenders)

Lance (Sym Bionic Titan) vs. Panpeus (Gitaroo Man)

Six-Eared Macaque (Lego Monkie Kid) vs. Flick (Animal Crossing)

Watchdog (Jupiter-Men) vs. Crowley (Good Omens)

Eye of Sauron (Lord of the Rings) vs. Giant Horse (Breath of the Wild)

Razer (Jak X: Combat Racing) vs. Kieran Valentine (Monster High: Why Do Ghouls Fall In Love?)

Wei Wuxian (The Untamed/MDZS) vs. Yifa Snorgelsson (Dimension 20: Neverafter)

Shadow the Hedgehog (Sonic the Hedgehog) vs. Black Sonichu/Blake (CWC's Sonichu)

Sailor Mars (Sailor Moon) vs. The Toy Soldier (The Mechanisms)

Ada Wong (Resident Evil) vs. Jack Spicer (Xiaolin Showdown)

Top Hat (The Nightly Manner) vs. Marceline the Vampire Queen (Adventure Time)

Parr Family/The Incredibles (The Incredibles) vs. Pioneer 9 (17776 and 20020)

Guilmon (Digimon) vs. Julian Devorak (The Arcana)

Miles Edgeworth (Ace Attorney) vs. Sundancer (Worm - Parahumans)

Hal 9000 (2001: A Space Oddyssey) vs. Eas/Cure Passion (Fresh Precure)

Harley Quinn (DC comics) vs. Itachi Uchiha (Naruto)

Scorpia (She-ra and the Princesses of Power) vs. Redcloak (Order of the Stick)

Scarlet Kingsnake (real life) vs. Hornet (Hollow Knight)

Maka Albarn (Soul Eater) vs. Toa Tahu (Bionicle)

Thorn (Scooby Doo and the Witch's Ghost) vs. Litten (Pokémon)

Maned Wolf (real life) vs. Orko (He-Man)

Rebecca Rubin (American Girl Dolls) vs. Lucifer (Obey Me)

Death the Wolf/The Wolf/Lobo/Death etc. (Puss in Boots: the Last Wish) vs. Joker (Persona 5) Bracket 2

Miles Morales/Spiderman (Marvel comics) vs. Cynder (Spyro)

Edelgard von Hresvelg (Fire Emblem franchise) vs. Sanguine (The Elder Scrolls)

Artegor Nexus (Galactik Football) vs. Beidou (Genshin Impact)

Barb (Trolls) vs. Mao Mao (Mao Mao Heroes of Pure Heart)

Wrathion, the Black Prince (World of Warcraft) vs. Vox Akuma (Nijisanji En)

Romeo (Minecraft: Story Mode) vs. Hua Cheng (Heaven Official's Blessing/TGCF)

Sharkface (Red vs. Blue) vs. Ashley (WarioWare)

Carmen Sandiego (Carmen Sandiego) vs. Beatrice (Umineko no Naku Koro ni)

Claire Stanfield/Felix Walken (Baccano!) vs. Deathgripper (How to Train your Dragon)

Default Mii Brawler (Super Smash Bros Ultimate) vs. Silver (Pokemon franchise)

Joui Jouki (Ordem Paranormal) vs. Banica Conchita (Evillious Chronicles)

Dreadking Rathalos (Monster Hunter Generations) vs. Black Widow Spider (real life)

Celestia Ludenberg (Danganronpa) vs. Gira/Kuwagata Ohger (Ohsama Sentai: King Ohger)

Garnet (Steven Universe) vs. Black Knight (Monty Python and the Holy Grail)

Scott Summers/Cyclops (X-men) vs. Heather Chandler (Heathers)

Lon (Sendokai champions) vs. Edward Elric (Fullmetal Alchemist)

Darth Maul (Star Wars) vs. Detective Turret (Portal 2)

Easthies (Witch Hat Atelier) vs. Grim (Grim Adventures of Billy & Mandy)

Zagreus (Hades) vs. Freddy Kreuger (A Nightmare on Elm Street)

Black Rose Dragon (Yu-Gi-Oh!) vs. Marian Hawke (Dragon Age 2)

Michael Burnham (Stark Trek franchise) vs. Mapo Tofu (Food Fantasy)

Flapjack (The Owl House) vs. Marinette Dupain-Cheng/Ladybug (Miraculous Ladybug)

Red-winged Blackbird (real life) vs. Pucca (Pucca)

Overblot Riddle (Twisted Wonderland) vs. Quattro Bajeena (Mobile Suit Gundam franchise)

Pyramid Head (Silent Hill) vs. Lord Hater (Wander Over Yonder)

Sigmund Sinclair (The Reckoning) vs. Vash the Stampede (Trigun 98/Trigun Maximum)

Ranma Saotome (Ranma 1/2) vs. Valerie Gray (Danny Phantom)

Mephone 4s (Inanimate Insanity) vs. Regina (Doki Doki Precure)

Mordecai Heller (Lackadaisy) vs. Sideswipe (Transformers G1)

Satan (Lil Nas X's Montero music video, and also Christianity or something) vs. Zealot Carmainerose (Epic 7)

Zero (Code Geass) vs. Yor Briar (Spy x Family)

Vincent Valentine (Final Fantasy franchise) vs. Ryuko Matoi (Kill la Kill)

THESE ARE OUR CONTESTANTS. NOW WHO'S READY TO RUMBLE!!!!!!

#it's HERE!!!#I tried to make sure each 4-person group had at least one contestant with multiple submissions in it/that I knew would be popular #the more popular nominees I placed at least 2/3 of a bracket apart #besides the seeding most were randomly generated #tho I won't lie I did try to match up contestant with similar image dimensions #anyway I'm so excited about the reveal! I think there are some really fun matchups in there #Round 1 #redblack tournament #polls

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stevewhoreington · 1 year

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give it right back to you (twice as hard)

[nsfw] an oldie i originally posted on ao3

Billy crashes into Hawkins like thunder and lightning rolled into one. Rattles the bones of the town's high school and shakes the dust off. He's new and he's shiny, and if there's one thing that can be said about Hawkins, it's that the place is so grey, so drab, that Billy's dirty-blonde curls shine like golden thread against its backdrop. His tanned skin is lustrous and his jeans are tight, and people flit towards him just for a taste of the sun. In those first few weeks, he downs a load of beer, a load of girls, and plucks the crown off the pretty head of Hawkins' finest.

This small-town shit is a blast. Feels like fucking worship, but. Billy knows, better than most, that good things never last, because that's the thing about small-town folk: they're suspicious of what they don't know, and loyal to what they do know. Princess breaks Harrington's heart and Tommy and Carol flock right back to him to kneel and pick up the pieces. Might as well suck his cock, too, while they're down there.

Thing is, they don't just drop Billy on his ass - they drag him along with them. Keeping him, probably, for the next time King Steve betrays them. There's a sudden shift, and Billy knows his place. There's nothing dignified in being Harrington's fourth-in-command, but there's nothing worse than being a fucking has-been, so. Billy has no other option but to float along with them and try to keep his head above the water. He's still entitled to privileges, this way. Still has invites to the better parties; still handed the better weed; still sought after by the better chicks. It's just the way things fall. It's the natural order of things. The food chain. It's fucking brutal, but Billy would rather kick his feet up somewhere towards the top of the pyramid than drop to his knees, bow, and hold the back-breaking weight of it.

He still has privileges. It just means dealing with Harrington, which, truthfully, is not as difficult as it could be. They seem to have signed some silent pact to ignore each other as much as possible. They'll be in the same room, participating in the same conversation and sharing the same joint, but it doesn't mean that they actually have to interact. And, so what if he feels like he's sitting on the side-lines every time the four of them are together? Harrington, Hagan and Carol have history. Billy's just been dumped in the middle of their circle. Knows that his association with Hawkins' royalty is tenuous, fickle, and so he watches and listens respectfully. Joins in, sometimes, but only when prompted, and he never looks at Harrington for too long.

It's about showing respect. That's what he does. Gives Harrington the bare minimum: doesn't hound or harass him during practice; doesn't taunt him about Nancy Wheeler in the locker room; doesn't stand too close when they're showering. Doesn't lay a fucking hand on him. Billy gives Harrington all of that. The bare minimum. It's basic respect - without licking the guy's ass.

The respect isn't exactly mutual, because Harrington has the audacity to stare at Billy whenever he pleases. Does it a lot, actually. Is doing it right now. Billy's sat at the edge of the pool, jeans rolled up, boots off and feet in the water. He lights up another cigarette and ignores Harrington's blatant staring. He inhales nice and deep, tastes toxic smoke on his tongue, heating up the back of his throat, and he watches the gentle ripples of the water. It's dark out, but by the pool, everything is blue.

"Chain-smoking tonight, Hargrove?"

It's the first time that Harrington's addressed Billy directly since arriving here with Hagan and Carol several hours ago. He's breaking their pact, just by asking that dumb question. Billy's teeth nick the filter. "Guess so."

"Could at least share."

"Didn't think this was your brand."

"I'm not fussy," Harrington lies, because of course he is. Billy knows he is. The first time he'd brought beer over, Harrington had mumbled his disapproval to Hagan.

Not drinking this shit. I'd rather drink the pool water.

Billy still doesn't know if Harrington had wanted him to hear, or if he's just no good at whispering. He'd soothed the burn by silently playing out a delightful scenario in his head - something that involved knocking Harrington into the pool, holding his head under and telling him, drink up. Stuck it on repeat until he was too drunk to remember why he was pissed off in the first place.

"If you want one," Billy says, "come get one." It isn't a challenge, nor is it a request. It just is what it is.

"Hey, Tommy. Could you -" Harrington starts, shifting in his seat.

Billy's eyes snap up because he can't quite believe it. Can't believe it, either, when Hagan actually fucking obliges and saunters over, fingers open and waiting. Billy doesn't say anything; doesn't pull Harrington up on his high-and-mighty bullshit, purely because nobody else does. Instead, he just wiggles a stick from the packet and slots it between Hagan's expectant fingers. Watches as Hagan trails back to Harrington and delivers the fucking thing. Billy's amazed that it isn't brought to him on a shiny, silver platter; that Hagan isn't hiding one up his ass, ready to be yanked out on demand.

From where he sits, Billy hears the snick of Harrington's lighter; the fizz of the cherry as he inhales, and the slow, steady exhale that follows. He risks a look over his shoulder because there's a filthy, grey cloud around Harrington, and it isn't really looking if Billy can't make out the dark honey of his eyes, the sharp edge of his jaw, or the plush, pink bow of his lips.

It isn't really looking if Harrington doesn't catch him looking.

"Not bad," Harrington comments, but the smoke has cleared and Billy's no longer watching.

It's Friday night.

Billy's late, but time is relative.

It's better, he thinks, to show up after the others. To arrive when Harrington's already high and Hagan's already wasted and Carol's a bit of both. It means eliminating the small talk, and getting to business. Getting to the good shit; to the reason why he ever shows up in the first place.

The front door is open when Billy slides out from behind the steering wheel. The walk towards the house is made more awkward - made longer - because Harrington has settled himself in the doorway and is watching him approach. This isn't how it usually goes. Harrington's breaking their pact.

"Heard your engine," he explains, words falling slowly out of his mouth and Billy would bet his left nut that Harrington's breath already smells like his dad's whiskey.

"And you decided to come to the door," Billy states. "This the royal treatment?"

Harrington shrugs. "Nobody else around to open it for you."

Billy freezes. Remembers who he is and where he is, and who he's standing in front of, and picks his feet up again. Walks until he's by the door, but keeps himself at an appropriate distance. "Hagan didn't show?"

"Nope." Harrington pops the 'p'. Doesn't bother to offer any kind of explanation. Asshole.

It feels like giving Harrington what he wants when Billy asks, "Why not?"

"Date night." Harrington seals the two words with a smirk. Looks vaguely amused.

"Date night?" Billy repeats, outraged.

"Uh-huh. Tommy told me at school. Carol's pissed because he hasn't taken her out in a while." Slowly, his smirk stretches into a grin. "Threatened to dump his ass."

Billy scoffs. "Thought that was, like, something she does on the daily?"

"Uh-huh."

Harrington's watching him, eyes steady, like he's never put invisible-pen to invisible-paper and signed their invisible-contract. Billy, at least, holds up his end of the bargain, and keeps his eyes on anything but Harrington.

When it becomes clear that Harrington has nothing more to say, Billy reluctantly opens his mouth and asks, "Why didn't you tell me?"

"Tell you what?"

"That Hagan isn't coming."

"Huh," Harrington says, somehow throwing amusement, sarcasm and condescension into the one fucking syllable. "Can't smoke a joint without holding Tommy's hand, Hargrove?"

"Fuck you," Billy shoots back. It rolls off his tongue, no hesitation. When he chances a glance at Harrington, he's looking back. Looking back and smiling, teeth glinting in the moonlight.

The smile is still on his face when he says, more sincerely, "Nah. We had plans, so. Figured we didn't have to ditch them just because Tommy and Carol decided to."

Billy thinks, oh. Thinks, shit. And Harrington just goes on, asks him, "Wanna come in?", and Billy has no good excuse to turn around and drive away.

"Yeah, sure. Whatever."

"Cool. Bring any beer?"

"No."

"Shame."

Billy's on his second beer and his feet are in the pool. Harrington, as usual, has taken one of the loungers off to the side. Too good, even for his own pool water.

He doesn't miss Hagan, doesn't miss Carol, but he does miss the noise. It's quiet without them. For some reason, Harrington's now deciding to follow their rules; isn't speaking. Isn't offering anything besides the cold beer from his refrigerator. It's more expensive than the shit Billy buys, but it isn't as strong. Isn't getting Billy where he wants to be as quickly as he'd like, but. He's still fuzzy around the edges.

Just not fuzzy enough to shrug off the silence that sits with them around the swimming pool like an unwanted guest.

"This is kinda dumb," Harrington says, abruptly cutting into the quiet as though he's just read Billy's mind.

"What is?"

"Getting drunk next to the pool."

Billy huffs. "We always get drunk next to the pool."

"Yeah," Harrington mumbles from somewhere behind him, "but it's still dumb. And there's only two of us."

"And?"

"And, Hargrove. Two is less than four."

"Really, Isaac Newton? How'd you figure that one out?"

Harrington's probably flipping him off behind his back. He scoffs. "More risky with just the two of us."

Billy hums and chugs on his beer. Couldn't give a shit, really, about what's risky or what's safe. He's a good swimmer, and he's not wasted. He doesn't bother saying so.

"Let's go inside," Harrington says, and there's a tell-tale scrape of plastic against concrete, and Billy knows that he's dragged himself up and off the lounger without even having to turn around.

"I'll follow in a minute." Billy would rather sit out here, watching the blue pool in the dark, feet warmed by the heated water. Fancy fuckers.

"Now, Hargrove."

Billy nearly chokes on his beer. It slips down his throat, fast, and he shoots a glare at Harrington - no longer caring about some bullshit pact that tells him where to put his eyes.

But. Harrington isn't looking back at him. His eyes are pointed towards the tree line beyond his yard. He's distracted. Looks oblivious to the fact that Billy's offended by his bossy-bitch attitude.

"Fine." Billy downs the rest of his beer, crushes the can, and - just to be an asshole - tosses it into the pool. Harrington only tuts, but it's satisfying enough.

His feet are wet. They squelch on the carpet. He's got his boots in his hand, like some drunk chick who's stumbling home and can't handle her heels.

Harrington is walking ahead, locking doors and closing windows as though he's calling it a night. Maybe he is. Maybe this is Billy's hint. Except.

Except, Harrington turns around and says, "Let's take this party upstairs."

"Not the best party you've hosted, Harrington." Billy replies, tone dry. Making a point of sounding bored.

"There's time yet." Harrington's retort is delivered smoothly and with the kind of smile that holds a lot of promise. The beer's suddenly kicking in, turning Billy's legs weak. "Grab you a towel for your feet while we're up there."

He isn't drunk - knows he isn't - but he feels tipsy as he follows Harrington up the stairs. It's one of those fancy staircases with the gaps between each step, and Billy has to focus on where he's putting his feet to avoid losing a leg down one of the holes. He isn't drunk. He's only had two fucking cans and he can hold his damn drink. Probably, it's just tiredness, or something.

Billy's feet are dry by the time they're upstairs, and nobody mentions a towel. Pact thoroughly fucking out of the window, he's invited into Harrington's bedroom, and he accepts. Walks right in, boots still in the one hand, bare feet on Harrington's plush carpet. He whistles as he looks around. "Take it you don't like plaid?"

"Screw off." Harrington's drawing the curtains. Two lamps light the room.

"Preppy," Billy comments, taking in the wallpaper and the curtains and how they very nearly - but don't quite - match. Holy shit. "Don't you get a headache being in here?"

"Usually have better things to focus on when I'm in here."

Billy scoffs. "Like you can get anybody in here."

"You're in here," Harrington points out, and when Billy shoots him a look, he's wearing a smug fucking smirk and eyes that say, gotcha.

Billy frowns and looks away.

"You know what's funny?" Harrington asks.

There are several responses on the tip of Billy's tongue - all fucking golden, and sharp, and hilarious. But he doesn't say a single word.

Harrington sits on his bed. Billy only knows because he can hear the familiar creak of bedsprings.

He waits for a handful of seconds, before figuring that Billy has nothing smart to give back. Says, "You never look at me. You used to always hang around my neck, and now you don't look at me." Harrington sounds almost disappointed. "What's with that?"

Billy isn't prepared for a question like that. He's by Harrington's desk, staring down at unfinished school papers and blotchy, blue ink stains, and he falters. Freezes right up, shoulders rigid. What kind of question is that? Billy isn't sure he has an answer for it. Wouldn't have an answer, even if he could pause time, bring everything to a standstill, and have a good think about it.

He doesn't have an answer, but he has to say something, because Harrington isn't helping him out. He's letting the silence stretch on; letting his question remain unanswered. Seems like he won't be changing the subject any time soon.

His mouth is dry when he finally speaks. "I didn't hang around your neck."

Harrington scoffs. "Don't give me that shit. The parties. The locker room. On the fucking court?"

Billy mirrors his scoff. Puts more enthusiasm into it. "Was only giving you shit. Teasing you. Thought it got your panties in a bunch, anyway."

"Giving me shit," Harrington repeats, pushing each word out slowly. "That's what that was?"

"That's what I said." Billy's over this conversation. Utterly fucking done with it.

"I thought it was something else," Harrington tells him, and there's another creak from the bed. Harrington's standing. Billy knows without looking. "Even now," he goes on, "you're not looking at me, man."

The clever part of Billy knows he needs to spin around, stare Harrington down, just to prove a point. Tell him, only because you're fucking ugly, and make a joke out of it. Needs to find his balls and lift his fucking head up before Harrington can spin this web. But. But. The dumb part of Billy is reigning; is keeping him speechless, making him stall. Making him forget how to locate his damn balls. There's a shift in atmosphere - that's why - and Billy's swiftly losing his footing.

Loses it completely, in fact, by the time Harrington's standing behind him, breath tickling the back of his neck when he says, "Look at me."

There's no way he can't, now. He has to, so he does.

Billy turns, and Harrington's close. Ridiculously close. Close enough that Billy's staring at the tiny moles dotted across his cheek and down his neck. Close enough that Harrington's whiskey breath might just give him a second-hand buzz.

"There," Harrington whispers.

Billy's going to die. Harrington's molten-honey eyes are setting him on fire. Mouth dry, Billy's speechless. Couldn't say shit, anyway, because his tongue is suddenly too big for his mouth; feels like some kind of intruder. Something that doesn't belong to him. Something that's fighting against him instead of working with him.

"See," Harrington begins, still watching, "I don't think you were just giving me shit. I think you were flirting."

Billy laughs.

Or.

He's supposed to.

It's more of a choked-out noise. Something unintelligible and pathetic.

Harrington smiles. "Bet you didn't think I'd call you out on that, huh?" His gaze dips to Billy's mouth. Back up again, to his eyes. "Or did you just think I was too dumb to know what you were really doing?"

The initial panic is very much there still, but Billy's also growing agitated. Pissed because he feels hot all over. "You're way off, Harrington. What's in your dad's whiskey, anyway?"

Harrington continues to smile, and Billy thinks about knocking that dizzy look off his face. ”Way off? Really?”

Billy matches Harrington's smile, but there's something mean to it. Sardonic. "Did you really drag me up here just so I can beat your face in?"

He laughs. Harrington fucking laughs like Billy's told him the funniest joke of the year. "No. That's not why I brought you up here."

The smile on Billy's face twists into something more frustrated. Impatient. "Then enlighten me, asshole."

The words are hardly out of his mouth before Harrington's stepping in, sneaker closing over Billy's boot and making him wince. Billy's dazed. There's an abrupt sting and it isn't a result of his trodden-on toes. It's something else. Something that only clicks once he's tasting whiskey.

Harrington's fingertips are digging into Billy's jaw. He's cupping Billy's face, a hand on each side of his jaw, and he's giving Billy a taste of his dad's whiskey. Harrington's mouth is on his, tongue slipping between Billy's lips easily because he's pliant and stunned and his brain isn't working fast enough to tell his body what to do. Before Billy can react, Harrington's curling his tongue behind his teeth and they're swapping spit.

This isn't what Billy does. It shouldn't be what Harrington does. It's not what they do. But. But.

A fire is being stoked in Billy's belly, shooting heat up the length of his spine and into his brain and that's probably why it short-circuits. Probably the reason why Billy closes his eyes and lets Harrington kiss him; invites his tongue into his mouth and it's funny, really, because this is the most their tongues have ever interacted. He doesn't have the time to question what he's doing. There's no room for thoughts when Harrington's tongue is halfway down his throat.

They're breathless. Harrington draws back first, and Billy pulls in lungful after lungful of sweet oxygen. It feels like drowning; feels like a reminder not to take air for fucking granted. Harrington's catching his breath too, but he's cool about it - is taking his time sipping down air. Drinking it down slower than he drinks Mr Harrington's expensive liquor. Taking his time, like it isn't essential to his existence. He smiles with teeth, and his lips are wet, coated with a shine as glossy as chap-stick. Harrington's pretty and this is why Billy has a million and one problems with the guy.

"Knew it," Harrington says. He looks satisfied, smug. Like he's managed to prove a point.

Billy's heart drops to his stomach. He wants to plunge his fist into Harrington's pretty face, but not nearly as much as he wants to turn his fist around on himself. "Fuck you," he spits, and he's never been good at hiding his feelings. His fingers flex by his sides, wanting to curl into his palms, but one hand's taken up by the burden of his boots anyway, and there's just no point. That stupid smile would probably stick to Harrington's mouth no matter how hard Billy hit him.

There's no point. Billy's fingers dig into his boots, and he can actually feel how flushed his goddamn face is. The fire's still burning. Humiliated, he turns to stalk out of the room, defeated, because Harrington is King Steve again and he's at the top of the food chain and Billy suddenly feels like he's dropped right down, like he's kicking around with the plants, except he's dried up and too small, too hidden, to get a lick of sunlight.

He doesn't get far before Harrington's wrapping a firm hand around his wrist, tugging. "What? Wait," he says, and Billy isn't looking at him but it sounds like that complacent smile is thoroughly gone. "Where are you going?"

Harrington sounds genuinely confused. That's the only reason Billy turns around. He's just as confused, though. Bites out, "What?"

"Where are you going?" Harrington asks, voice softening right up in a way that Billy's never heard before. His grip around Billy's wrist loosens, but he makes up for it by stepping in. "I didn't say you have to go." Harrington's eyes are wide. "Do you want to go?"

"The fuck do you think?"

"I don't think you do. I think you wanna stay," Harrington tells him, simple as that. "I want you to stay."

Harrington's hand comes up to brush Billy's hair out of his face. It's an oddly tender gesture, and Billy gapes, staring at Harrington like he's just been handed a single-coloured Rubik's Cube. "What?"

"I want you to stay." Harrington presses in until their hips are meeting and there's no such thing as personal space. He reaches out, pries Billy's boots out of his grip until he can knock them to the floor. They land with a dull thud. "Stay," Steve says. Billy thinks it's supposed to be a question, but it sounds more like a statement.

"Why?"

"Because I think we both liked that kiss, and I think you've been trying to get in my pants since the night we first met." Harrington's smiling again, but it's less obnoxious, more fond. He brings his palms to Billy's hips, keeping him close, and he's hard. Billy thinks he is, at least. Everybody knows King Steve's well-endowed, but the solid pressure, the heat, is unmistakable. Harrington's hard and Billy's still humiliated but less so, because it doesn't necessarily feel like a trick anymore - not when Harrington's rocking into him unashamedly, wanting him to know just how worked up sticking his tongue in Billy's mouth has gotten him.

Billy sighs. Licks his lips. Lets his shoulders droop. Harrington takes it for what it is - a surrender.

"Good," Harrington mutters. "Glad you're staying." He bows his head and sets his mouth against the side of Billy's neck, leaving open-mouthed kisses. Murmurs there, "What do you want, huh? Because I know you've been wanting something from me." He drops a kiss to the hinge of Billy's jaw before shifting to speak into his ear. "You wanna get your hands on me, Hargrove? Want my hands on you? What do you want?"

The voice in Billy's ear awakens goosebumps on his skin. He shivers. "I don't know." He sounds faraway, lost. He supposes he is.

"Bet you wanna taste me," Harrington says next, finding the dangerous red button inside Billy's body and pressing. The universe crumbles. Billy makes a low noise. "Oh. Is that it? You wanna taste me?" He's grinning against Billy's ear. "Got such pretty lips, Hargrove, I'd let you put them anywhere." He straightens up and Billy slumps. He tells him, "Come on. Come here." Takes Billy by the hand and walks him towards the bed.

It's all a blur. Billy isn't sure how he's commanding his feet to move. He thinks Harrington might be dragging him. He just doesn't know. It's a small, unimportant detail, and one which quickly loses his attention because Harrington's sinking down on the edge of the mattress, feet on the carpet. He's holding Billy's fingers in one hand and stretching out to snag a pillow from the bed with the other. He throws it down to the floor; to the space between his sneakers. It's a hint, or a demand, or a kind gesture, or maybe all three, but Harrington still needs to tell Billy, "Get down, baby?" He frames it as a suggestion, but he's already waiting, wearing an explicitly expectant expression.

"Don't call me that," Billy shoots back, but he's dropping to his knees like he's easy. Like he's some easy-to-fucking-please prom date who'll put out at the gentle coaxing of soft words and sugar-coated pet names.

Baby.

"You don't like that?" Harrington asks, and there's an edge to his voice that tells Billy he knows that he does. "Sweetheart? Sugar? Honey?"

"None. I'm not your fucking wife, Harrington."

Harrington stares down at him, pleased, before changing the subject entirely and asking Billy, "You done this before?"

It's such a startling contrast to the bullshit they've just been discussing. Billy blinks. "No?"

"Really?" Harrington actually sounds surprised. Billy shoots him a warning look. "But you've had your cock sucked before, right?"

"Duh."

"Then I'm sure you can improvise."

Unsurprisingly, there's a huge difference between being blown and blowing. Harrington's jeans and underwear come down to his knees, giving him just enough leeway to keep his thighs properly parted. He's already stiff, like just the anticipation of getting Billy's mouth around him has sent all of his blood rushing south. It'd be flattering if this was anything else, but this is Billy, on his knees, wrapping a fist around Steve Harrington's cock, pretending that he knows what he's doing. It isn't anything to be proud of.

He can't stroke Harrington's cock forever. They both want more before he fucking loses it - even if Billy doesn't know where to start. His mouth is too dry and Harrington's dick is too big.

He's hesitating, and Harrington knows it.

"You good?" He asks, voice not quite as put together as it had been. He reaches out and threads his fingers through Billy's hair.

Billy nods. He's fine. It's just a dick. It's just a blowjob. If Nancy fucking Wheeler could get her mouth around this, then Billy will have no problem. "Yeah," he says, wetting his lips with his tongue.

"Come on, baby," Harrington coaxes, tone gentle and fingers even gentler where they're tucked into Billy's curls. "You've thought about doing this, right?"

He has. He actually, genuinely has. But fantasy and reality are very different, and in his fantasies, Billy's good at everything and it's Harrington who's at a loss for fucking words. "Guess so," he lies, just to be difficult because he can't be completely easy.

Harrington ignores Billy's attitude, and just tells him, "It's okay. Doesn't have to perfect. Come here. Just do what you wanna do." His fingers flex in Billy's hair, gently tugging. "Do what feels right."

Billy rolls his eyes. Makes a good show of it. Nothing about this feels right, but he doesn't point that out. He shouldn't have to. It isn't right, and that's a renowned fact; as certain as the pain in Billy's knees and as certain as the whiskey on Harrington's breath. Even so, he follows the guidance of Harrington's persistent fingers and starts by licking a long, slow stripe up the underside of his cock; from base to just below the head. It earns Billy a long, slow groan in response, starting from the second his tongue meets hot, sweet skin, to the moment it breaks contact.

"Baby," Harrington breathes, "That's good." He pets his fingers through Billy's hair, making knots. "Keep going."

Harrington's praise doesn't mean shit. It's whatever. But Billy bows his head again, anyway. Brings his tongue out to lap at the tip of Harrington's cock. Spits on his hand and starts to jerk him off at the same time.

Billy can taste salt on his tongue. Harrington's leaking already, and his own cock is rubbing uncomfortably against too-tight denim. He wants to dip a hand beneath the waistband of his jeans, but blowing Harrington requires all of his focus because he has no fucking idea what he's doing. He's overwhelmed, and working at his own hard-on will only make the job more difficult. He figures his own needs are secondary in this arrangement, and - what was he saying about not being Harrington's fucking wife?

"Hey, hey," Harrington coos out of nowhere, and Billy tips his eyes up to look at him, trying to gauge what it is he wants. He doesn't need to, because Harrington goes on, mumbling softly, fingers fully lost in Billy's curls now. He says, "Put your mouth around me, Billy."

Billy's hand pauses mid-stroke, fist curled around Harrington's cock. He blinks, tears his gaze away from Harrington's blissed-out face and he thinks it might be the first time Harrington's used his name like that. Like, really used his name. It's distracting, and it's heavy, and it sort of feels like Harrington's found that red button again, hit it, and pieced the universe back together. Billy closes his eyes, opens his mouth, and wraps his lips around the swollen head. It's - strange. He has barely taken Harrington in, but it's one hell of an intrusive sensation. Harrington's heavy on his tongue; he's thick. It's nothing like how Billy had imagined. It's exactly like how Billy had imagined.

"Fuck," Harrington moans, and when Billy forces his eyes open, he glances up and the guy has his head tipped back, throat exposed. Pretty boy. "Good. Like that."

He'd never admit it, but it's encouraging; has him thinking that he isn't completely fucking this whole thing up, but. At the same time, it's just getting somebody off, and how hard is that? Clearly, he's put too much thought into whether he'd be able to do it or not. He knows what it's like to be on the receiving end of a blowjob. Only needs a few hard sucks and vivid imagery that plays on-loop behind his eyelids, and he's done for. No big deal.

That's what he thinks, until he's trying to suck Harrington down and it proves a mammoth fucking task. Harrington's doing all he can to keep Billy encouraged. He massages Billy's scalp with blunt fingernails and tells him, "Take it slow, baby. You're doing good."

Good is probably an overstatement, but he must be doing something right because Harrington's thighs are trembling, knees twitching, like it's taking effort to keep still.

Billy works at Harrington's cock slowly, just like Harrington had suggested. He takes it slow; tries to relax his throat as he takes Harrington deeper, weight heavier on his tongue, senses utterly invaded. Taste, touch, smell. Everything is just Steve Harrington. From a mutual pact of silence, to this. From nothing, to everything. Billy's drowning. Can't breathe. Can't swallow without feeling like he's going to gag. Everything comes to a stand-still with Harrington stuffed in his mouth.

The choked-out noise Billy makes is, thankfully, lost beneath the sounds that are erupting from Harrington. He's fucking noisy, is the thing. It's something he shouldn't know about King Steve, but he does now, and he adds it to the very long list of things that he shouldn't know about a boy who shouldn't be as pretty as he is; a boy who shouldn't command Billy's attention the way that he does, or soften him up enough that he drops to his knees when he hears that word - baby.

He holds Harrington on his tongue, cheeks hollowed out, and he tries to swallow past the building saliva and the salty precum that's sliding towards the back of his throat. Billy's hand is busy massaging Harrington's balls, and he isn't sure why he's giving the guy the full fucking treatment. It should be half-hearted, at best. Billy just convinces himself that this particular technique will have Harrington spilling his load much faster, and that means this whole thing will be over with; he can get to his feet, rub his aching knees and bolt, so. Yeah. That's probably why.

He's building a rhythm, here. Starting to feel more comfortable and more confident, even though he knows that Harrington's eyes are glued to him. Billy likes the spotlight - loves it - but this is a new kind of performance he's giving, and he's still just an amateur. But, he's falling into something steady and easy, throat relaxing and becoming more pliant, making room for Harrington's cock as he bobs his head and sucks him off.

He has a slice of control until Harrington takes it away from him.

Harrington's fingers are still caught up in Billy's hair and he uses the grip, now, to pick up the pace, speed things up. He tells Billy, "Shit. That's fucking good. Keep sucking, baby." Tells Billy, breathlessly, "Gonna make me come like this."

That's good for him, but Billy's eyes are watering, tears threatening to form and spill, and his throat is closing back up because Harrington's thrusting into his mouth like Billy's some kind of porn star. He chokes, gags, and then he's drawing back, pushing back against the surprising strength of Harrington's palm until his cock falls out of Billy's mouth with a slick pop. "Jesus fuck," he growls, throat sounding banged up. "You do this to the girls you screw around with?"

Harrington huffs out a laugh. His face is pink and his eyes are dark. "No." He loosens his grip in Billy's hair, strokes the area with restless fingers. "Are you a girl?"

Billy slips his hand from under Harrington's balls just to flip him off. It earns him another breathy laugh, but Billy's half-distracted, wondering if Harrington does this shit often. Does it with guys. He's knocked out of those thoughts by Harrington's voice, low and steady and edging on impatient, when he says, "I'm close, Billy. Are you gonna finish me off?"

Billy nods.

Harrington says, "Thought so. So good for me."

Something clicks inside of Billy. It's divine and it's nice and it hurts. He brings his hands and his mouth back to Harrington, and lets the grip in his hair show him how to move. How fast to go; how slow. It's Harrington who's controlling it, and Billy's just the puppet. He swallows around a particularly rough thrust, eyes squeezing shut, tears spilling. He thinks he doesn't mind the strings.

Harrington's knee jerks, fingers growing tight in Billy's curls. "Baby," he groans out. "Baby, I'm gonna -"

It's Billy's warning, but it comes as Harrington's already spilling.

It's fast. Happens in a flash. Hot come shooting out onto his tongue and slipping, easily, down his throat. He has to swallow, and swallow, and swallow, just to keep from choking on the stuff. He tips his wet eyes up at Harrington, and he's already watching; looking down at Billy, eyes heavy, mouth parted around a low, breathless moan. That pact of theirs has been screwed up and tossed out of the window. Has been shredded into thousands of tiny pieces and then burned on a huge fucking bonfire. It's dust.

Billy isn't sure how it all happens next, but it's fast.

Harrington's on his knees next to him. Billy's dazed, salt on his tongue and throat on fire, and Harrington's guiding him back. He's being tipped until he's on his back, and Harrington's stuffing the pillow beneath his head. A fucking gentleman. He's peppering Billy's face and throat with fast, chaste kisses that only serve to make his head spin. It's a good job that he's lying down.

There's an easing of pressure and it's Harrington's hands unzipping his jeans and tugging them down to his thighs, underwear not far behind. He doesn't even ask, but he doesn't have to. In fact, it's a surprise that he's bothering at all, because there's no obligation. This isn't part of any kind of fair agreement. Harrington's known all along what Billy's been wanting, and it's true - Billy has been wanting to taste Harrington on his tongue. Has been wanting to get his mouth around him and be played like a puppet. Used. It doesn't mean that Harrington needs to give back.

But he does.

He spits into his palm and takes Billy into his hand and strokes until Billy's seeing stars. Tells him, "Relax, baby." Tells him, "Did so good, Billy." Stupid, silly words of praise and encouragement that shouldn't mean shit but absolutely do. That only serve to stoke the fire in Billy's belly and strengthen the strings that are attaching him to Harrington's wrists.

Billy comes under a shower of praise and Harrington doesn't stop stroking until he gets every last drop - like it's for him. Like it's all his. Earned it, owns it. He strokes until Billy's spent, breath knocked out of his lungs. Harrington's panting, sweat beading at his temples and when he falls to the ground beside Billy, he lands close.

Billy stares up at the ceiling, suddenly stripped of an old agreement and left to navigate a new world. Harrington closes his eyes and reaches for Billy's hand. It's the drawing up of a new pact. Billy laces their fingers together, and it feels like inking their names - sealing the deal.

#harringrove #billy x steve #my writing

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hard-to-be-the-bard · 2 years

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Animal Lover S/O

Mommy Kink NSFW

12 Days of Lester: Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12

Chubby Reader

Soulmate Name AU

S/O who bursts out crying

Shaved Legs

Nerdy reader

Reader who talks down about themselves

Long Fic: Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

Vincent Sinclair:

Mommy Kink NSFW

You’re my favourite piece of art

S/O defends him in front of Bo

Reader who talks down about themself

Soulmate Scar AU

NSFW

Chubby Reader

Clingy s/o

Heat Exhaustion

Body Swap AU

Soulmate Name AU

S/O who bursts out crying

AFAB Reader SMUT

Bubble Baths

First meeting

Reader on her period

Patrick Bateman:

Asexual Male Reader

His clothes

Halloween Songs

Body Swap!

Michael Myers:

Jealous Slashers

Snow Day

”Hold this” But it’s their S/O’s hand

Reaction to Clingy/Touch starved S/O

Half Sister

First Words Soulmate AU

Chubby Reader

Heat Exhaustion

Body Swap AU

Thanksgiving

Trans!Male Reader

Stretch Marks

Admirer

Flat S/O

Snow day

Jason Voorhees:

Snow Day

Mommy Kink NSFW

”Hold this” But it’s their S/O’s hand

Reaction to Clingy/Touch starved S/O

Jason X Reader Part 1:The killer at camp crystal lake

Chubby Reader

Body Swap AU

Thanksgiving

Shaved Legs

Reader on her period

Trans!Male Reader

Stretch Marks

Admirer

Flat S/O

Bubba Sawyer:

Animal Lover S/O

Flat S/O

Brahms Heelshire:

Mommy Kink NSFW

”Hold this” But it’s their S/O’s hand

Reaction to Clingy/Touch starved S/O

Half Sister

Shaved Legs

Chop Top:

General relationship HC

Thomas Hewitt:

Jealous Slashers

Animal Lover S/O

Chubby s/o

First Words Soulmate AU

S/o with djungelskog

Clingy s/o

Tackle Hug

Heat Exhaustion

Protected

Marriage?

Body Swap AU

Soulmate Name AU

British Reader

Thanksgiving

Disney

Bubble Baths

Reader on her period

Trans!Male Reader

Flat S/O

Jesse Cromeans:

Animal Lover S/O

Short Reader

Body Swap!

Otis Driftwood:

Heat Exhaustion

Tattoos

Nerd Reader

Bubble Baths

Evan McMillan (The Trapper):

The entity

Gunslinger:

Picnic by the train tracks

Asa Emory:

s/o who helps him

Deaf!Mute reader

Short Reader

Soulmate Name AU

Bubble Baths

Body Swap!

Ghostface:

Ray of sunshine S/O

Pyramid Head:

Day at the zoo with S/O head canons

”Hold this” But it’s their S/O’s hand

Reaction to Clingy/Touch starved S/O

Reader on her period

Stretch Marks

Admirer

Snow day

Billy Loomis:

”Hold this” But it’s their S/O’s hand

Watching Scary Movies with S/O

Stu Macher:

Watching Scary Movies with S/O

S/o with djungelskog

British Reader

Flat S/O

Stu Macher:

Watching Scary Movies with S/O

S/o with djungelskog

British Reader

Flat S/O

Carrie:

”Hold this” But it’s their S/O’s hand

Carrie going to prom with S/O who finds out about the blood prank

Trans!Male Reader

Yautja:

Chubby Reader

Stretch Marks

334 notes · View notes

horror102 · 1 year

Text

Submission!

Things I do and don’t.

Things I do write for

Student X teacher- Just because it’s a weird fantasy and only high school 18 X teacher I’ve gotten a request many times and I refuse to do any 16 year old students or 17 only the age above legal law.

Fictional Serial killer X reader- Only fictional serial killers I will not be writing a fan fiction of Ted bunch, jeffery Dhamer, John Wayne Gacy, Richard Ramirez, or anything’s real serial killer wise.

Any type of fandoms!

Undertale fandom, WWE fandom, Horror fandom, supernatural fandom, Dc fandom, Marvel fandom, Game fandom, Movie fandom, Peoples oc’s X a certain character. Just anything! Anime fandom, Cartoon fandom, Greek gods, ANYTHING! <3 red dead redemption, Cod , YouTubers only ones who allow, TWD, TVD, GTA, Fast food, fnaf , Disney , the avatar,

Things I don’t and won’t do.

Incest

Pedophilia

Non-con

Rape

Abusive relationships with a character that’s the love interest.

Urine/feces

Warnings I do

Fluff

Smut

Angst

Limes

Lemons

Fandoms I won’t write for.

Harry Potter- It’s mostly just a bunch of weird adults crushing on teenagers

YouTubers who’ve stated they don’t want smut written about them, only ones that don’t care. But if it’s fluff it’s fine

Scooby doo- Only when it’s the live action it’s okay but when there supposedly teens nah. unless it’s fluff.

Going angst someone’s religion or adding satanism in a story.- only because it goes against some characters I write like Jacob Goodnight

Specific characters I do.

Michael myers

Jason voorhees

Jacob goodnight

Patrick Bateman

Hannibal Lecter

Leather face

Candy man

Pearl

Carrie

Chucky

Jennifer Tilly

Freddy Krueger

Ghostfaces

Pinhead

Pyramid head

Pennywise

Art the clown

Harry warden

Gabriel may

Norman Bates

Billy Lenz

Bo Sinclair

Lester Sinclair

Vincent Sinclair

Horror

Sally face

Dean Winchester

Sam Winchester

Supernatural

Stefan Salvatore

Damon Salvatore

Elijah Mikealson

Klaus Mikealson

Mason Lockwood

Kai Parker

TVD

Negan

Rick

Carl

TWD

Simon Riley

Soap

Konig

Cod

Thor

Loki

Captain America

Venom

Deadpool

Marvel

Batman

Superman

Joker

Dick Grayson

The flash

Beast boy

Superboy

Spider noir

Roman reigns

Dolph Zigger

Randy Orton

Batista

Razor Ramon

Drew McIntyre

Kane

Undertaker

Mankind

Seth Rollins

Dean Ambrose

Shawn Michaels

Triple H

Diesel

WWE

Sans

Papyrus

Undertale

Naruto uzumaki

Kakashi Hatake

Jiraiya

Asuma sensei

Erwin smith

Reiner Braun

Hercules

Poseidon

Connie springer

Kisame

Coach Ukai

Asahi- Haikyu

Sniper mask

Anime

The hand- Wednesday

Freaky Fred

Scar

Mufasa

Cartoon

Ronald mc Donald

Burger King

Jack in the box

Fast food

Spring trap

Bonnie

Foxy

Freddy faze bear

Monty

Michael afton

Fnaf

Franklin

Michael

GTA

Beast

Prince neaven

Any Disney prince fr <3

Disney

Anything on my list, or in the fandoms I write for I forgot I couple if there’s any you think I might like hit me up! <3

Tags I do

Daddy issues

Older men

Sugar daddy

Sugar mommy

Milf

Dilf

Smut

Angst

Fluff

Age gap

133 notes · View notes

clown-demon · 3 months

Text

Mun Comforts

Comfort food(s): Cheese, mac n cheese, mozzarella cheese sticks, pizza, croutons, gummies, starbursts, peas, corn, french toast.

Comfort drink(s): Grape drinks, energy drinks, grape and raspberry ICE, Fruit punch ICE, Fruit punch crystal light, grape crystal light, soda

Comfort movie(s): Bungou Stray Dogs Dead Apple, The Cat Returns, Spirited Away.

Comfort show(s): Bungou Stray Dogs, Bleach, My Hero Academia, Chowder, Rocko's Modern Life, Grim Adventures of Billy and Mandy

Comfort clothing: Anything baggy

Comfort song(s): Bernadette by IAMX, Killer by The Hoosiers, Black Rover by Blinding Sunrise, Acid Rocket by DK-Zero, Get Jinxed (Russian) by Onsa Media, Happy by Secrets in Studio, Execution is Fun! by Tardigrade Inferno, Everyday is Halloween by Creature Feature, Misery Go Round by Night Club, Toy Soldiers by Marianas Trench, Burnt Babies Fear the Fire by Blaqk Audio, Simping for the Villian by Boy Jr., Lucifer by Elle Lexxa, Kinda Outta Luck by Medusa, Boy Jr., Heart Eater by Connie Glynn, Happy Face by Jagwar Twin, Better than Drugs by Skillet, Happy Face by Aesthetic Perfection, Summer Goth by Aesthetic Perfection, Clarity by ZEDD Foxes, BEELZEBUZ by Fake Type, Everyday Oblivion by 8Graves, Evil by 8Graves, Anti-Hero by Taylor Swift, Dead Air by Rufus Rex, Shallow Grave by The Birthday Massacre, Happy Birthday by The Birthday Massacre, Bones by Imagine Dragons, Wash it all away by Five Finger Death Punch, All Systems Go by Krypteria, I Idolize you by Massive Ego, Living Dead Girl by Rob Zombie, Merry Go Round by Man with a Mission, The Perfect World by Marty Friedman, Monkey Boy by Kontrust, Dried Moat by Stolen Babies, Oh Raven (Sing me your Happy Song) by Unlike Pluto, Rad Drugz by MISSIO, Can you Feel the Sun by MISSIO, Riptide by grandson, Toxicity by System of a Down, Kill Everyone by Hollywood Undead, The Underground by 8Graves and Unlike Pluto, Blood//Water by grandson, Villain of my Own Story by Unlike Pluto, Outrunning Karma by Alec Benjamin, Turn the Lights off by Tally Hall, Hit the Streets by Aesthetic Perfection, Oh! Gloria by Aesthetic Perfection, Big Bad Wolf by Aesthetic Perfection, Riot by Three Days Grace, Fly Home by The Living Tombstone, Can't Wait by The Living Tombstone, Not One Less by Ken Ashcorp, Alkatraz by Demon Dice, The Sky Will Turn by The Birthday Massacre, Touch Tone Telephone by Lemon Demon, Ghost by Mystery Skulls, Thnks fr th Mmrs by Fall Out Boys, Coin Operated Boy by The Dresden Dolls, Pyramid by Two Door Cinema Club, Stray Cat by Vicke Blanka, Kids by MGTM, Devil's Wedding by Fake Type, Back on Track by DJVI,

Comfort book(s): Bungou Stray Dogs, Guardians of Ga'Hoole, cat Warriors, The Sight, Wings of Fire

Comfort game(s): Hollow Knight, Okami, Pokemon, Disgaea, WoW, FFXIV, Guild Wars II, Wario Ware, Super Smash Bros.

Tagged by: @villains4hire (THANK YOU!)

Tagging: (You don't have to!): @kitxkatrp, @yoxngmadnxss, @giftandguile, @electricea, @swordduels, @pluviacuratio, and anyone else who wants to!

#about the mun #yes I went ham on the music section #I LOVE MUSIC #Music is my life man #if I am not playing something or listening to a show or talking to someone #Or working #I AM LISTENING TO MUSIC #long post

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theyareweird · 7 months

Text

Monster High: Home Ick

In this class, students are thaught basic food and home maintainance subjects. Also, the school televisions have a broadcast where students cook recipes alive. (In this case unalive). Basiclly, class cirruculum includes:

Basic potions, concoctions and mixture.

Proper use and care of cauldrons and ovens.

Practical stitching and sewing technique.

Issues and careers in Home Ick.

Mad food sciences, Monster biology and food choices.

Location

In the game, New Ghoul in School, Home ick is located on Level 1 of the West Hall. It’s next to the Ghouls restroom. There’s a plate of food, pots and pans next to the door. Inside, the room is split into two with a wall separating both areas. The first half is the classroom and the second half is the kitchen. However, in the Ghoul Spirit game, Home Ick is near the second floor Main Hall. The single room contains ovens and old sewing machines.

Faculty

Beyond a fridge and oven kitchen appliances, there are utensils, cauldrons and pans. In addition to sewing machines, there are sewing boxes filled with sewing needles, thread, cloths and other equipment. On schoolgrounds, there's a cottage where students showcase their term projects. In the game, New Ghoul in School the school has a cooking club as an extracurricular activity. It's members include: Bonita Femur, Deuce Gorgon, Invisi Billy and Elissabat.

Finals

From the episode, Home Ick Frankie bakes a Living Gigerbreadman. Since Cleo and Clawdeen cook meals similar to their characters, their final assigntment is most likely cooking a family recipe.

Family Recipes

The Living Gingerman recipe belongs to the Stein family. It's a Gingerbread Man animated in Stein fashion.

The Pyramid Cake recipe belongs to the De Nile family. It's basically cake pieces shaped into a pyramid.

The Dog Biscuits recipe belongs to the Wolf family. From the color, it's likely vanilla cookies shaped like bones with a woof stamped on them.

Assignments

In this class, students are assigned different types of meals and sewing assigntments. The sewing assigntments include: Sewing 101 and Stitching.

Food Recipes

Sceamy Mac-n-Cheese In New Ghoul in School, the name is a word play for Mac-n-Cheese. It's s unknowm if this recipe is used in Home Ick class.

Cajun Fried Swamp Dragon Tail is an assignment in Ghoul Spirit.

Eye-Scream is a word play for ice cream. It's mentioned in New Ghoul in School but it's unknown if this recipe is in the class curriculum.

Fresh Garden Snake Salad In Ghoul Spirit, the recipe is a salad with snakes as protein.

Scarrrot Soup is a soup made from scarrots in New Ghoul in School.

Grilled Squish Sandwich In Ghoul Spirit, the recipe is the counterpart of a grilled cheese sandwich.

Scareghetti In New Ghoul in School, the recipe is special spaghetti with garlic in the sauce. The name is word play for spaghetti. It's unknown if this recipe is in the class cirruculum.

Shocklate Cookies In New ghoul in School, the name is word play for chocolate cookies.

Steak and Fright In Ghoul Spirit, the recipe is fried beef and squid, served on gravy-looking sauce.

Ingredients

Candy Eyeballs is mentioned in the episode, Bad Zituation. Eating them causes pimples.

Scarrot In New Ghoul in School the name is word play for carrot.

Vinegrrr is word play for vinegar.

#monster high #home ick #article

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space-mermaid-writing · 1 year

Text

Faded Black Ink [IronStrange] - Chapter 14

Relationship: Doctor!Stephen Strange x Mafia!Tony Stark

Tags: Mafia AU, Angst, Romance, Idiots in love

Ko-fi | Series Masterlist | Read it on AO3 | Previous | Next

Chapter's note: Thanks to the wonderful people at the IronStrange Haven Discord Server for helping me with ideas for Tony’s tattoos! No beta. I binged-wrote this and now I'm going to bed. Good night.

Chapter 14: Gifts

The next three days Stephen ignored any text and call from Tony.

Then the gifts began to arrive.

At first, it was a tall mug filled with coffee. Stephen thought Christine was kind enough to leave him before rounds. The mug seemed custom fit to his grip, had a thick handle and wide rim. It didn't burn his palms the way the paper cups in the cafeteria did.

The following day, the staff room had a brand new espresso machine that came with coffee so rich and dark Stephen found himself licking his lips all day trying to savor the taste.

The cafeteria changed food supply companies three days later and the grey gruel disguised as the basic elements on the food pyramid disappeared and were replaced with meals patients actually are instead of dumping it in the trash next to them. Stephen considered actually eating at the cafeteria for the first time he worked here.

A week later, the dean showed up as Stephen was signing the delivery slips to a brand new MRI machine the hospital desperately needed, but he couldn’t find a purchase order for anywhere. The dean lingered by the door, hands shoved his pockets. His eyes met Strange’s and he nodded very pleased with the latest addition of tech. “Good job.”

“I don’t know what you mean,” Stephen replied, highly confused.

“Of course not.” The dean winked at him. “After all, you’re not a messenger.”

Stephen dropped the pen to the floor. I couldn't be! It had to be a stupid coincidence. It was probably the dean's revenge for Strange being so snappish with him at the gala. The dean must have placed the order himself. An MRI was way too expensive; only he had the authority to spend that much of the hospital money.

Stephen picked up the pen and dismissed it as a bad joke.

For lunch he met with Christine at the cafeteria. He hadn't told her about the UCSF offer yet. The business card was lying on his work desk at home; he hadn't dialed the phone number on it yet. Funny. Not long ago he would have accepted the position on the spot, packed his bags and left New York behind. Stephen saw himself as someone who was focused on his job, his career.

The fact was, it was still in his focus, but he felt he had built something here. New York felt like home, which was ridiculous, because it was a giant, chaotic city.

He chose fish for lunch, because it looked like real fish and not some cheap and mashed together fish-like something. The MRI machine came back to his mind as he looked at his plate. He told himself it was a coincidence. The hospital had clearly made good profits this year.

The next day, Stephen showed up later than usual for work. His only appointment today was a surgery. A routine procedure and he didn't need to prepare for it other than to be rested and re-read some details. Putting his jacket and bag down in his office, he spotted a small box sitting on his desk. That was odd since his door has been locked.

The box was square with a logo of Arnold & Son. When he opened it, he found a piece of art of mechanism and titanium. Elegant and sleek. Stephen was sure that if he tried the watch on, it would fit perfectly on his wrist.

He walked to the station office on the same floor, which was also responsible for making his appointments in his absence, functioning as some kind of secretary. "Has someone been here to see me today?"

Billy glanced up from his computer. "Not that I know of. Why?"

"There's something on my desk I didn't put there."

"Oh yes!", Billy remembered, snipping with his finger. "A delivery was left for you at the front desk. I put it in your office."

"Do you know who dropped it off?"

"Sorry, no. You have to ask Sarah."

Stephen turned around and chased down Sarah from the front desk. But she could not help him either. The watch had been brought by a private courier. The nondescript, generic type.

Back in his office, Stephen stared at the watch. He remembered Stark's joke to show him his collection. But Tony had stopped calling him, after Stephen refused to talk to him.

Despite the expensive gift, Stephen still didn't call Tony back. He wouldn't even know what to say.

Two days later it was raining. Stephen drove his car to work as usual. He was running late, the streets were crowded. More people than usual were driving their cars, trying to get less wet on their way to work than by any other means. So Stephen's mood was not at its peak anyway. Then, arriving at the hospital, he saw that his personal parking space was occupied. He stared at the flashy sports car that had the audacity to stand in the space that was clearly assigned to him by a badge. The color of the Porsche 918 Spyder was so obnoxious that Stephen was sure it was a special paint job.

He knew of only one person who would drive such a car and who liked to sneak into his personal space. Grumbling, the doctor parked elsewhere – farther away from the main entrance, getting a lot wetter, although he hurried into the building with long strides. He went directly to the front desk.

"Someone is parking in my spot." Already in a mood he was willing to have the car towed. It was Tony's own fault to provoke him like that.

Sarah's face lit up as soon as she saw him. "Doctor Strange!" Her voice was a singsong even though she had no right to be this cheerful on such a rainy day. "Something's been dropped off for you again. And I also believe it's the solution to your problem."

Before Stephen could ask what the hell she meant, she pushed a jingling car key into his hand. Hanging from it was a personalized leather keychain with his initials. There was no mistake. Still, Stephen stared at the thing, taking a moment to realize what it meant. He blinked before looking back at Sarah. "Is someone waiting in my office for me?" He was wondering if Tony finally showed up. This was a way too expensive gift to not deliver it personally.

Sarah frowned – she probably expected a different reaction – and double checked the digital calendar. "No. You don’t have any appointments this morning."

Stephen turned away with a muttered "Thanks." With the key in one hand, he pulled out his phone with the other. He needed to talk to Tony. It couldn't go on like this. He couldn't put off a conversation with the man any longer. No one could tell what Tony Stark would do next. So he dialed his number.

Surprisingly, no one answered. Stephen waited until he was transferred to his voice mail. So he tried again. Stephen had never called Tony before. They had always just texted. He knew Stark was busy, but normally he always got back to him as soon as he had a free moment.

Stephen scoffed in irritation. After going to so much trouble to get Stephen's attention, you'd think Tony would be waiting for a message from Stephen.

Only on his third try in a row, Tony finally answered. "Stephen, bellino, are you alright?" Tony sounded concerned – probably because it was so unusual for Stephen to keep ringing – but also curt. As if Stephen were bothering him. That, in turn, bothered Stephen.

"Yes, We need to talk about the 'presents' you're sending me."

A brief pause arose and Stephen heard something in the background from Tony’s side. "Can I call you back?" he asked. "I'm kinda in the middle of something."

Stephen snorted, feeling offended. "No! Your meeting can wait for five minutes or I'm changing my mind about talking to you altogether."

Tony sighed silently. Holding his phone to his ear, he gestured with his other hand, in which he held a gun, to Steve, to keep the rogue group of a rivaling gang at bay, while he stepped to the side. "Alright, tesoro, I'm listening."

"You have to stop sending me stuff. It's getting ridiculous."

"Didn't you like the watch?" Tony asked.

"It's a nice watch," Stephen admitted. "But that's not the point…"

"I can get you a better one."

Stephen was losing patience. He felt like they were having two different conversations. Why was he talking to Tony about watches? "No, Tony. I don't want a watch. Do you even know why I'm angry with you?"

"Of course, you said-… hey! Who allowed you to get up? I'm trying to fix things over here..." Gunshots rang out and Stephen stared at his phone in horror before hearing Tony's voice again. "Sorry, doc. Some people just have no sense of decency. Where were we?"

"Where are you? Are you okay?"

"Aw, are you worried about me?" The smile on Tony's face sounded in his voice and Stephen sighed loudly.

"Can we meet?" he asked.

"Sure, I'll send Happy to get you after I'm finished with the scum here."

"I'll come to the tower after my shift." Stephen didn’t need the driver, he had his own car. Two of them actually, thinking of the key that he was still holding in his hand.

Stephen parked his car – his own, not the new Porsche, thank you very much – outside and entered the tower through the lobby. The receptionist nodded politely to him before Stephen stepped into the elevator that took him upstairs.

He had noticed on previous visits that the entire tower was monitored by video cameras and suspected that nothing happened inside without Tony himself or his men knowing about it. So it didn't surprise him when Happy picked him up from the elevator. "Hello doctor. The boss is still in a meeting. He asked you to wait in the living room."

He took him there and Stephen sat down on the couch. Happy himself didn't seem to want to keep him company and disappeared into the hallway and out of Stephen's sight. The doctor crossed his legs, not happy about having to wait. He was impatient, feeling antsy. It wasn't like him at all. But ever since he'd met Tony, he wasn't even sure what was like him anymore.

He propped his elbow on the backrest and rested his head in his hand. Mentally, he reviewed the evening of the gala. After Stane's words, he had become quite upset, possibly overreacting. What he had heard had surprised – and hurt – him. He should have at least let Tony explain it.

The sound of clicking heels approached him.

"Doctor Strange." Pepper looked at the empty coffee table in front of him. "Can I get you a drink? Coffee, tea…something else?"

Stephen's first instinct was to decline. He didn't want to talk to Pepper, didn't even want to see her. Then again, he had no idea how long he'd have to wait. "Coffee would be nice," he therefore said.

Pepper nodded and stepped into the kitchen. Stephen heard the sound of a coffee maker.

Shortly, she returned with a tray on which were two cups, as well as milk and sugar. She set one of the cups down in front of the doctor. The second she took herself and sat down on an armchair opposite him. "I wanted to talk to you," she told him, but first turned to her coffee and weakened it with plenty of milk. Her eyes darted him a pointy look, before she settled back and took a sip.

Stephen added some sugar to his coffee and waited for what she had to say.

"I'm Tony's lawyer. So almost everything that concerns him also concerns me," she said. "I'm also his friend, so that doubles that statement."

Stephen raised his eyebrows and suppressed the jealousy that was rising inside him. On the outside he managed to maintain a neutral demeanor. "I heard once you were more than friends."

He felt like Pepper was indeed sitting as a lawyer in front of him and Stephen was her latest case. No. Tony was the case. And Stephen was on trial.

Pepper watched him calculating. In their last meetings she had displayed a polite friendliness towards him, but now she was all business.

Fine. Two could play that game, Stephen thought. As a doctor, he often had to deal with difficult patients. And even if it was not one of his favorite tasks, he had acquired a professional business attire of his own over time.

"We were," Pepper told him. "But we realized quickly that we work better just as friends." She tilted her head. "That was quite a while ago and shouldn't concern you."

"It does if it's a regular occurrence that Tony falls in bed with people who work with him," Stephen objected. They were Stane's words but they haunted him.

Pepper looked as if she suddenly understood something, and her gaze softened a bit. "I've known Tony for many years and I've only seen him falling in bed exclusively with the same person a few times. And he never talked about them as much as he does about you."

To this Stephen doesn't know what to say and he looks down at his sweet but untouched coffee.

"Why are you here?" Pepper asked suddenly. "Do you want to end things with him?"

"I wouldn't even know what it is I would end." Stephen snorted, but it was true. "I don't think he does even know why I was angry, and he bought me a goddamn sports car anyway." He pinched the bridge of his nose, still not understanding the behavior of Tony.

Pepper made an amused sound. "Have you even told him why you started that fight?"

It didn't surprise Stephen that Tony had apparently told her. She probably wouldn't be sitting here in front of him otherwise. He thought about her question, though. Stephen hadn't told Tony, but really it should be obvious – shouldn't it?

"Tony does talk a lot," Pepper continued when Stephen didn't answer. "But honestly, communication isn't always his strongest point. Sometimes you need to spell things out for him. You, on the other hand, should finally start to listen – to truly listen – to him."

Stephen tilted his head as Pepper put down her empty cup. "Why are you telling me this?"

„Like I said: I‘m a friend of Tony and I hate seeing him like this. You are different. You‘re not intimidated by him. I like that about you. It would be a shame if I had to change my opinion about you.“ She said the last sentence with emphasis. Pepper Potts was not someone Stephen would want as an enemy. In the short time he had known her, he already respected her a great deal. He could well imagine that she had the same reach of influence as Tony, but she was more subtle about it. Like a cobra waiting in the tall grass until her unsuspecting prey was close enough to attack.

"Sorry to keep you waiting." Tony entered the spacious living room and both heads turned to him instantly. He stopped, not sure what to make of the fact that his lover doctor and his lawyer had obviously talked about him. The sudden silence that greeted him was loud enough.

Pepper smiled knowingly and stood up gracefully. "I'll leave you two to it." She gave Stephen one last look and then left the room.

Tony approached, his face emphatically neutral. "You wanted to talk?"

Stephen nodded slowly. "Can we go upstairs?" He preferred to talk to Tony in his penthouse, where they wouldn't run the risk of someone barging in.

"Sure."

They made their way up in silence and it was kinda awkward. At least, that's how it felt for Stephen. Tony was unusually quiet. He kept his fingers to himself, respecting Stephen's personal space. It was very different from what they were used to – even before their first kiss in the doctor's office.

Once in the penthouse, Tony headed straight for the bar. "Drink?" he asked Stephen over his shoulder. The doctor declined, and Tony poured himself two fingers' worth of amber liquid. He swirled the glass and waited for Stephen to start talking

Stephen thought of Pepper's words and maybe she was right. Maybe he had to spell it out loud.

"At the gala I learned that you and Pepper were a thing in the past. And that you have a thing for replacing your lovers rather quickly."

They had never talked about being exclusive. Neither Tony nor Stephen thought about themselves to be men that were looking for something serious. And yet they stood here, not sure where this argument left them. What it made them.

"You accused me of buying you." Tony's voice was bitter. He didn't care if someone accused him of something he had done. But when he was accused of something he had been so careful not to do – not even for his own sake, but because he had listened and wanted to do better – it hit him all the harder. "I want you to think about it: after that first check you ripped oh so gloriously, did I try to give you another?"

"No," Stephen admitted. "But people are not only bought with money. All those gifts from you… that's called bribing."

"Is it?" Tony crossed his arms, no longer caring about the drink. "So, if I – like you said – pay you, what do I get in return?"

That was the question, right? What did Stephen have that Tony could possibly want? He wasn't bribed to be his physician. Stephen had declined that money and the gifts hadn't started until way later. Was it sex? Maybe. But Tony wasn’t the type of man that needed to bribe people into having sex with him. There were plenty of willing women and men.

"Who told you?" Tony asked when Stephen said nothing, not wanting to hear the silence. "At the gala, who told you about me and Pepper?"

"It was...you know, never mind, that's not important." Stephen wouldn't mention that it was Tony's own godfather who had told him. He didn't want to start another argument. "Maybe I overreacted slightly."

A snort escaped Tony, half amused, half scowling. But it was probably the closest thing to an apology the doctor had to offer.

Stephen suddenly had another question burning on his tongue. One he had had for some time, but had not yet dared to ask it. But if this was the point of all or nothing, then why the heck not as well try it. “What are we?” Because it has been fun and games so far. And yes, also blood and anger and passion. But at the end of the day, when Stephen thought about ending things with Tony and walking away – he didn’t like that thought.

After their fight at the gala, Tony had really made an effort in reaching out to him. If it wasn't a bribe and not a payment for just casual sex, then what was it?

Tony, ever the business man, returned, "What do you want us to be?"

It was so unusual to have a conversation with Tony Stark without him taking up Stephen's personal space. And maybe that was the point. From day one, Tony had marched into his life and claimed his attention. Maybe that was the reason Stephen hadn't felt the shift of whatever they had into being something genuine. He had always assumed that Stark took what he wanted and Stephen was just along for the ride. He hadn‘t even thought about Tony being serious. But now he was standing there, several feet away from Stephen, waiting for him to make the decision. And accepting whatever outcome occurred.

The doctor bridged the distance between them with a few steps, invading the space Tony occupied at the bar. When he licked his lips, Tony's attention instantly zoomed in. "You play dirty, Doctor,” he murmured. And wasn’t that just a deja-vu of their very first meeting. Just sans the gunshot wounds, fortunately.

“What if I want more than you’re willing to give?” Stephen’s voice dropped an octave.

“Bold of you to assume how much I’m willing to give.” As if Tony hadn’t just given him a ridiculous expensive car this very morning. But Stephen wasn’t talking about money.

Tony still didn’t lay a finger on him, but his eyes – dark and hungry – spoke volumes.

“Maybe I want all of you.” Finally, finally, Stephen kissed him. It was slow and sweet and very different from what they were used to.

Tony reacted immediately. His fingers sneaked under Stephen's shirt, yaking him possessively against him until their hips were sealed. They kissed until their lips were swollen and their cheeks sported a faint red.

It wasn’t the end of everything they had to talk about, merely the beginning. But they were at an understanding that this was more than they both thought it would be. Stephen would have thought that this fact scared him – surprisingly, it didn't. It felt natural.

He arched, planting small kisses and soft bites along Tony’s jaw.

A small moan tried to escape Tony’s throat, only held back by his teeth – Stephen heard it anyway – while Tony tried to form his thoughts in actual sentences. “I didn’t want to buy you.” It was very close to rambling. “Fuck, I probably have never respected someone more than you. You’re not shy to tell me off. You’re intelligent, gorgeous and very tempting. But don’t ever tell me to not pamper you with nice stuff. You deserve it. I’d love seeing you wearing the watch I bought you. Love seeing you enjoy it. I don’t care about the money.” Tony looked at him and Stephen had him never seen so open, so vulnerable like right now. “Let me take care of you. You can pay for dinner, if you insist, I don’t care. But don’t reject a gift from me. It’s like you stab me with a knife. And I take stabbing very personally.”

His words were very dramatic yet very Tony. And Stephen understood. He understood the sentiment behind them and where Tony came from.

“I won’t.” He kissed Tony’s collarbone then wandered higher to his lips, halted right in front of them without touching them. “If you promise me not to get over the tops with the gifts.”

Tony took his well-deserved kiss. "Bellissimo, have you met me?" He looked at the Doctor, a mischief twinkle in his eyes. "I'm always over the top."

They didn't make it to bed. Yet it felt more intimate than ever. It wasn't hungry and hot headed like usual when they fell over each other. Instead, they took their time, moving slowly. The air tasted sweet with desire and full of feelings. It was both addictive and infectious.

Stephen was the most handsome man that Tony had ever laid his eyes upon. That, he would admit without hesitation. Tony forced himself to keep his eyes open and watch as Stephen threw his head back and let out the most luxurious cry as he came hard.

They stayed on the couch, tangled together, afterwards.

Stephen's fingers chased the tattoos on Tony's body. They were all on his torso and not visible when he wore a shirt. The amount of colors would have surprised him when he treated him back then after his gunshot wound, if he hadn't already seen a similar view on Peter and hadn't been so tired after his shift plus the emergency surgery.

Tony was a piece of art. He belonged in a gallery next to the greatest painters and stone carvers. Yet Stephen was selfish enough to be glad that this view was only for him.

He traced to outlines of colorful and elegant flowers sitting right above Tony's navel.

"Those are Camellia flowers." Tony's eyes followed Stephen's fingers. Their eyes met for a moment before both looked again at the painting. Each of his tattoos had a special meaning. He understood when someone got a tattoo for aesthetics, for the sake of art. For him, every image on his skin was a reminder. A sign that he did not forget and won’t ever for as long as he lived. "They were my mother's favorite."

"They are beautiful." Stephen examined more tattoos, taking time for each to look closely at the colors and patterns. They had fascinated him from the first day he had seen them. "Is this a code?" Questioningly, he pointed to a number block of 0s and 1s.

"It's the name of my first friend in binary."

"That's a long ass name."

Laughing, Tony cupped his cheeks and pulled him up for a kiss, to which Stephen was only too happy to respond. Then Stephen moved the kisses further down and covered each tattoo with one, starting with the great, blue centerpiece on his chest. He wasn't sure what the circle and lines represented, but it was familiar to him by now, as were the scars underneath that it hid. It belonged to Tony.

Stephen's finger settled on the capital A, which he had also seen on some of Tony's men, if it was placed visibly. "A for Anthony?"

"Maybe." Tony chuckled. "Would be fitting for me, wouldn't it?" His fingers brushed through the doctor's dark hair, chasing the lighter streaks on his temples. "Nah, too easy. The FBI would love it though."

"Then what does it mean?"

„Avengers. Don‘t laugh! It started after my parents died. I was in a dark place back then. Angry. But the name was fitting. Still is for most of us,“ „Steve and Bucky are ex-military. Bucky lost his arm in action and they both suffer from PTSD. It was hard for them to find a place to fit in. They only know war and function best under stress. Clint was a kid from the streets. Circus runaway gone rogue. He tried to steal from me but I caught him. He taught me some basic ASL. One day he brought home Natasha. An orphan, born in Russia. Somehow found her way overseas. I made her residence legal.“

Every single one of his most trusted people had their own story. And few of them were happy stories.

„What about Peter?“ Stephen asked in a quiet voice, almost as if he was afraid of the answer. They all had their past, sure, but Peter was still so young.

„He had nobody left when I found him. He deserves so much more,“ Tony explained as Stephen snuggled up next to him, still listening. Tony sighed. He had made the traffickers, in whose care he had found the boy, pay. It still hadn't been enough, in his opinion. It never would be.

"I met most of that weird bunch of people after I became head of the business." After his parents died. "Did you know I was shot too that day?"

Stephen looked at him in surprise. "What?"

"They were ricochets. Three shards in my chest." Tony put his hand on the blue ink. "Two inches to the side and they would have been in my heart."

"That's… how did you survive?" It was incredible. Gunshot wounds like that were mostly lethal.

"I don't know. Luck I guess. Maybe someone up there had other plans for me." Tony shrugged his shoulders as if to dispel the thought. With a naked Stephen next to him, partly spread across him, he didn't want to think about those old stories.

"Has anyone told you about the six aspects of the Avenger's yet?" he therefore asked to change the subject. As he did so, he pointed to the colored dots next to the capital A. Stephen shook his head. "They are time, space, reality, mind, soul and power. Every member of the Avenger's earns their aspects for their use. Time, for long time members. Reds, Reality, are the executive force in the streets. People who implement plans and actually change things." Tony slid his fingers to the top, purple dot. "Currently there are only three people beside me who got this one. Stane, Rhodey and Pepper. If anything happens to me, they are the next in line of command. I trust each of them with my life."

Stephen suppressed the stab of jealousy that briefly ran through him at the mention of Pepper's name. He can't help it. But he had come to understand that she was no competition for him. To Tony, she was family.

Smiling, he looked at Tony – the man that chose him, Stephen.

"Thank you for sharing this with me."

_____________________________

Tony: makes ridiculous, over the top gifts. Christine to Stephen: “Please for the love of all of our sanity: talk to him before he buys the hospital and renames it. I will quit if I’m forced to work at Strange Hospital.” That long ass binary name of Tony's first friend: 01001010 01100001 01110010 01110110 01101001 01110011

Tag List: @hidden-treasures21

#IronStrange #StrangeIron #stephen strange x tony stark #doctor strange x iron man #Stephen Strange #Doctor Strange #Tony Stark #Mafia AU #Mob Au #Italian mafia #Angst #Drama #Romance #Idiots in love #Faded black ink #ironstrange family

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castielmacleod · 2 years

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Some small Billie headcanons/quirks/interests because if the spn writers refuse to let them breathe a little then I’ll do it myself

They don’t have the inclination to eat very often, but their favourite food is pancakes. Blueberry to be specific, topped with real maple syrup and just a dab of whipped cream. They’re very particular about this.

They also enjoy rooibos tea with a dash of cinnamon.

You can usually hear them singing or humming to themself if they’re in a good mood. Sometimes they don’t even realise they’re doing this.

They’re fond of flowers, particularly dead ones—they genuinely enjoy watching flowers wither away and die. Some might find this a little macabre but Billie thinks there’s a beauty in it.

It’s a guarded secret, but they ADORE horses. There is a very real yet repressed horse girl dormant within Billie and it would not take much encouragement to fully unlock this side of them.

They are frighteningly good at chess. It’s unknown if they’ve ever actually lost a game.

They know how to skateboard. They had the surprising occasion to pick it up in the early 80s. They can even do a few tricks.

They love stories, especially those in book form. They can and have gone days and even literal years just reading the same book over and over again, cover to cover, which is perfectly entertaining for them.

Their favourite time of year on earth is the dead of winter in snowy climates. They love the way everything feels quiet and still when covered in a blanket of white. They could stand in the middle of a silent snowy forest for hours without feeling even slightly bored.

While they enjoy all forms of music, they especially like ballads and songs with clear narratives. For this reason they have a soft spot for musical theatre, being the ultimate combination of story and song.

They have a very different perception of time than mortals do. They might say something like “I’ll be right back” and then return two years later. Not because they forgot, but because a mere couple of years just literally feels like being “right back” to them.

They have a flawless memory to the point of eidetic and can recall even the most minute details of a time, place, event, or thing no matter how long it’s been since they experienced it. They can literally remember the building of the pyramids like it was yesterday.

While they come off as fairly laid back a lot of the time, Billie is a fierce perfectionist. They are extremely well-organised as a result, and follow a rigid “a place for everything and everything in its place” mentality. They like to keep their spaces meticulously neat, spotless, and level. They’re the type to sit down at a table and make sure the cutlery is all aligned.

#Billie spn #Billie the reaper #Idk I just have Ideas about them……#Death 1.0 got to be so quirky #They never really let Billie have any fun especially after season 11 #I know she’s a reaper and then she became Death but still she deserved to have more idiosyncrasies and interests I will die on that hill #Let Death live a little <3

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dreaminginthedeepsouth · 9 months

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[from my flickr album "the afterlife"]

* * * *

The Afterlife While you are preparing for sleep, brushing your teeth, or riffling through a magazine in bed, the dead of the day are setting out on their journey.

They're moving off in all imaginable directions, each according to his own private belief, and this is the secret that silent Lazarus would not reveal: that everyone is right, as it turns out. you go to the place you always thought you would go, the place you kept lit in an alcove in your head.

Some are being shot into a funnel of flashing colors into a zone of light, white as a January sun. Others are standing naked before a forbidding judge who sits with a golden ladder on one side, a coal chute on the other.

Some have already joined the celestial choir and are singing as if they have been doing this forever, while the less inventive find themselves stuck in a big air conditioned room full of food and chorus girls.

Some are approaching the apartment of the female God, a woman in her forties with short wiry hair and glasses hanging from her neck by a string. With one eye she regards the dead through a hole in her door.

There are those who are squeezing into the bodies of animals - eagles and leopards - and one trying on the skin of a monkey like a tight suit, ready to begin another life in a more simple key,

while others float off into some benign vagueness, little units of energy heading for the ultimate elsewhere.

There are even a few classicists being led to an underworld by a mythological creature with a beard and hooves. He will bring them to the mouth of the furious cave guarded over by Edith Hamilton and her three-headed dog.

The rest just lie on their backs in their coffins wishing they could return so they could learn Italian or see the pyramids, or play some golf in a light rain. They wish they could wake in the morning like you and stand at a window examining the winter trees, every branch traced with the ghost writing of snow.

- Billy Collins

[thanks to Whiskey River]

#whiskey river #flickr #my flickr files #the Afterlife #Billy Collins #poem #poetry #words and writing #my favorites #Whiskey River

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eefackworm · 2 years

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Peaches - Cat Metropolis

Apricot - Green Cushion

Ganache - Toy Capsule

Macchiato - Mister Dragonfly

Melange - Cardboard Cafe

Maple - Egg Bed (night view)

Rare

Joe DiMeowgio - Baseball

Senior Don Gato - Mister Mouse

Xerxes IX - Zanzibar Cushion

Chairman Meow - Earthenware Pot

Saint Purrtrick - Silk Crepe Pillow

Ms. Fortune - Cardboard House

Bob the Cat - Cat Metropolis

Conductor Whiskers - Cardboard Choo-choo

Tubs - all food except Thrifty Bits

Mr. Meowgi - Scratching Log

Lady Meow-Meow - Luxurious Hammock

Guy Furry - Glass Vase

Kathmandu - Temari Ball

Ramses the Great - Pyramid Tent

Sassy Fran - Cardboard Cafe

Billy the Kitten - Cowboy Hat

Frosty - Snowy Pillow

Jeeves - Fairy-tale Parasol

Sapphire - Fairy-tale Parasol

Bengal Jack - Luxury Treasure Box

Whiteshadow - Bonito Bitz

Hermeowne - Egg Bed (Night View)

Kitty Hawks - Baseball

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ahopkins1965 · 3 months

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What is Schizoid Affective Disorder? Schizoid Affective Disorder is a mental illness that is caused by a chemical imbalance inside of the brain just like Bipolar Disorder. The symptoms of Schizoid Affective Disorder are mania, depressive symptoms, thinking that you are being controlled by someone or something, disorganized thinking and finally delusions. I was first diagnosed with Schizoid Affective Disorder on Tuesday July 15, 1997 in Charlotte NC. I remember taking Prednisone for a skin problem one month earlier. I remember traveling to Charlotte NC on Sunday June 15, 1997. I stayed at a hotel on South Tryon Street called the Ashcot Inn it was exactly one block from the Uptown Cabaret Night Club. I do remember the temperature was 96 degrees outside in Charlotte NC. I remember catching the cab to the hotel. I ate a pizza and other junk food all day long.

Next, I stayed at another hotel on Monday June 16, 1997. The hotel was called The Roadway Inn on West Trade Street. I spent another night at the hotel and on Tuesday June 17, 1997, I walked to the Uptown Shelter and I stayed there for a total of 8 months. The first few weeks, I slept on the floor until I was scheduled to get a bed on June 30, 1997. I had to get up at 5:00am in the morning every single day for 8 months. I had to walk a total of 9 miles to the Chemical Dependency Center located on Billingsley Road in Charlotte NC. I remember being in the hospital for a total of 5 weeks. I remember going to an Agency called the Access Project. This agency helped me to get on Social Security. I stayed with Access Project for 8 years. My AA Sponsor name was Billy Godwin. He was my Sponsor for a total of 15 years. He was a Chemical Dependency Counselor for over 40 years. I had a lot of fun down there by going to UNC- Charlotte for three years. During the years, I was living at an apartment complex called Charlottetown Terrace Apartments located on Baxter Street in Charlotte NC. I stayed there for almost three years. I remember publishing my first book called The Best of Anthony Hopkins. However I ran into a snag by dealing with two women at the same time. I had to go back to Dayton, Ohio for an extended period of time. I stayed with my sister for a few months. I came back to Charlotte NC for a total of 10 years.

Further, I came back to Charlotte NC for 10 years. I remember working at UNC-Charlotte for a total of 8 years. I lost my job because I was looking at porn online on my work computer. Prior to that, I was working at UPS for a total of 4 months. I remember my first paycheck someone stole it. It took me at least one month just to get paid from the job. I also worked at temporary Job services for a total of 8 months. When I got the job at the library in Charlotte NC, I was happy for a total of 8 years. Afterwards, I lost my job and I became homeless again. This was also a time when I got scammed by some Africans and they swindled me out of $18,000 dollars in Western Union Funds. I was also a victim of a pyramid scheme. I worked so hard just to lose the money as soon as I got it.

Finally, I have been here in Dayton, Ohio for a total of 14 years now. I published two more books called Essays and My Grace is Sufficient for Me. The people who published my books is Authorhouse Publications in Bloomington Indiana. My book is not selling right now. I live in my apartment building called Wentworth Hi Rise Apartments located on Wentworth Avenue in Dayton, Ohio. I have been living here for 13 years now. I have been clean and sober for 33 years now. I had to get honest and truthful with everyone about my personal recovery. I have been Court Ordered to take medicine and attending my doctor's appointments each month. I have been Court Ordered again to therapy and taking 38 pills per day for a lot of physical and mental ailments. Recently I lost one of my Uncle's last year. Uncle Johnnie Funeral was yesterday. If I would have went to the funeral, I would have been fighting my own family members. I found out that my father is a Caucasian male. Therefore I am a Biracial Person. The truth is I never knew my own father. I was a product of infidelity. My mother died with her secrets as well as my sister and grandmother. I have been hearing voices for a total of 15 years now. It hurts me to have a mental illness right now. I also suffer from Alzheimer's and Schizophrenia as well as Andropause which is the male version of menopause. I have been taking medication for a mental illness for almost 30 years now. This is the reason why I am in need of prayers from everyone right now. Thank you for reading my essay.

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stevewhoreington · 2 years

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give it right back to you (twice as hard)

[snippet of my most recent fic. full version here. warning: it gets kinky]