#like god this scene alone was enough to make me completely reevaluate all their other scenes together

[coldgpa]

Ok but I just wanna say Joseph Quinn's acting here... I feel like I can literally see Eddie's nervousness at interacting with steve. How he messes with his hands and keeps glancing over to gauge steves reactions.

You can literally see his character THINKING and contemplating about getting into Steve's face before he commits to it

And I just love that we see him just give a satisfied full blown smile at making steve get nervous, like he got the reaction he wanted to. Like...? This is what's happening in this scene and people still dont think eddie had some kind of a crush on steve?

#stranger things #steddie #like god this scene alone was enough to make me completely reevaluate all their other scenes together #before this scene i hadnt even considered them #and then i was like... holy shit #stranger things 4 #eddie munson #like i dont get how someone could watch this scene and not immediately think it gave gay vibes #joseph quinn was playing for romance #the guy is gay. just is #the proof is jist the goddamn show #also the fact that steve is straight up giggling about another man getting up in his space? no str8 nan is reacting like that #analysis

[jjmaebank]

Fight for Me - Rafe Cameron

A/N: okay so this is based off the scene from one tree hill between Brooke and Lucas, I acc cried writing this because that scene makes me bawl my eyes out, Sophia Bush’s acting >>>

I would also like to thank Cort @pogue-writings because she really helped me understand Rafe’s character and I wouldn’t have been able to write this w out her, so this one’s for you Cort!!

Also I expect tumblr to fuck with the italics in the flashback so I’m sorry in advance

Warnings: this one’s sad :(( also mentions of drugs and substance abuse

Words: 1.8k

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“What I wanted? I wanted you to fight for me! I wanted you to say that there was no one else that you could ever be with and that you'd rather be alone than without me!” +

Another night had gone by. Another night of Rafe throwing a party, getting high and flirting with other girls. Another night of Rafe Cameron ignoring your existence.

You and Rafe had been dating for a good few months now and at first it was everything you had ever wanted. He would spend every waking moment with you, taking you out on romantic dates and telling you how much he loved you. He would make you feel so fucking special, he made you feel worth something. Rafe had come into your life during a very dark period, but he had been the one to help you out of it. He had been there for you through everything, held your hand and supported you when you had needed it most. He had been your lifeline.

But now? Now, it was like he didn't exist. He would neglect you when you needed him most, dismiss you when you tried to speak or simply full on ghost you. He wasn’t the same Rafe you fell in love with, or at least he’d hidden this side of him for a very long time.

You had gotten into a massive argument one night and you had hardly spoken since.

“Why are you like this Rafe!” You cried to your boyfriend.

“What the fuck do you mean, (Y/N),” Rafe spat, continuing to pour the white powder out onto the glass coffee table.

“You know what I mean.”

“I wouldn’t have asked if I knew what you meant,” Rafe snarled, still not diverting his attention from his next fix.

“You’re so...so bipolar!” You yelled as the tears continued to stream down your face, but he didn't seem to care.

“Tell yourself what you want (Y/N), but I don't have time for this,” he muttered.

His lack of empathy made the pain in your chest grow stronger.

“Why, Rafe? Why is it that you’re so loving, so affectionate some days, and then completely hostile others? Is there something I’m doing wrong?” You asked, a pleading tone in your voice.

“I really don’t know what you’re talking about,” Rafe replied, now rolling his note  into a long cylinder.

“You know exactly what I’m talking about!” You cried, your body starting to shake as you withheld sobs.

Rafe sighed in irritation, putting down the note briefly to finally look up at you.

“Can’t you see I’m busy here (Y/N)?” He said dismissively, immediately returning to his addiction.

Your heart sunk even more; you didn’t think it was possible to feel this neglected and alone standing next to the boy who claimed to love you, next to the boy you loved. But it was.

You sighed in defeat before bringing yourself to speak again.

“I think we should take a break,” you whispered loud enough for him to hear over the sound of himself inhaling the white powder.

He rubbed his nose, sniffing a little before looking up at you again.

“A break?” He asked, seeming unfazed.

“I..I don't want us to be over Rafe...” you said, wiping the remaining tears from your eyes, “but I think you need to do a lot reevaluation over the choices you’re making right now and how it affects the people around you.”

You expected him to protest, for his eyes to widen as he heard your words. You expected him to rush over to you and plead against it, for him to fight for you. But he didn't.

“Whatever,” Rafe shrugged, “beats me.”

You held in a sob as you heard those words come out of his mouth. He didn't care. You couldn't bring yourself to experience the embarrassment of crying in front of him again so you rushed out of his house as fast as you could, not giving it a second thought.

It had been two weeks since your ‘break up’; but you and Rafe had similar friend groups and hung out at the same places so you practically saw him every single day, and it hurt.

Somedays he would call and ask you how you were, making you think the old Rafe was back. Somedays he was silent and ignored you when he saw you, but you swore you could see guilt in his eyes. You hoped he felt guilty, that he was beating himself up over how he’d acted towards you, the same way you cried yourself to sleep almost every night over the fact that he let you go with such ease. Were you really that disposable to him?

Tonight he was throwing another party at his house while Ward and Rose were away in the Bahamas. You perched on the end of the couch that Rafe was sat on with Topper and two blondes. They were doing lines of coke of course, when was Rafe not inhaling that shit.

“(Y/N), you want some?” Rafe laughed, wiping his nose after doing a line.

You gave him a look; he knew you didn’t do that.

You kept scolding yourself for even being there. It wasn't healthy seeing him, it just made you miss him more. But part of you urged you to stay in case he spoke to you, in case he apologised for how he acted, fought for you.

“Suit yourself,” Rafe shrugged before sprinkling another line for the blonde sat next to him.

She was all over him, stroking his hair and shooting him flirty looks. You wanted to vomit, but the worst part was he didn't seem to care, nor that you were sat inches away.

After what felt like an eternity of sipping from a half empty cup, watching everyone have fun while you had a miserable time, Kelce stood up on the glass coffee table.

“How about a game of spin the bottle!” He shouted, receiving multiple yells and shrieks of excitement.

You felt a pit form in your stomach; you knew this couldn't end well, but you were somehow glued to your seat, the hope that maybe you and Rafe could patch things up blocking the warnings your subconscious was throwing at you.

Around a dozen people had gathered around the coffee table where the white powder had now been replaced with an empty beer bottle. You crossed your legs and pulled the sleeves of your hoodie over your hands in anxiety; you didn't want to be here.

A few rounds went by and you were already sick of watching strangers play tennis with each other’s tonsils. You promised you would leave after that round but just as you were getting up the bottle landed on Rafe. You froze.

Your heart rate practically went through the roof, you could feel your heart thumping in your chest so intensely you were scared others might be able to hear it. Your hands were already clammy from the stuffiness in your hoodie and this only made it worse.

Rafe shot you a quick glance, as if to check whether you were okay and for a split second you relaxed. He wasn’t going to do anything, he wouldn't.

But the next thing you saw was Rafe leaning in to the blonde sat next to him. Your heart sunk.

“Just a joke right?” He laughed whilst licking his lips.

His lips connected with hers as her hands went straight to his hair. His hair that you used to play with in bed on lazy or rainy mornings. Her hands stroked his cheeks, the cheeks you used to squish and prod at when he was feeling goofy or cracking jokes. But what stung most was w watching her kiss his lips. His lips that he used to kiss you with, that he used to whisper sweet nothings to you with, that he used to tell you he loved you with.

You felt sick, physically and emotionally sick. You let out a muffled sob as you covered your mouth with your sleeve and stood up quickly, running out of the room. It felt like déjà vu, but a worse version of what you’d already experienced, much worse. 

“(Y/N)!” You heard someone call out behind you. You knew exactly who it was, but you just ignored him and kept running.

You were halfway through the garden by the time Rafe managed to catch up to you, having yelled your name multiple times. He grabbed your arm and pulled you backwards, spinning you around to meet his gaze.

“(Y/N),” he gasped, “god since when could you run so fast?”

“Do you think this is some joke?” You replied, your voice shaking as you held back tears.

“What? No.” Rafe said, taking a more serious tone than before.

“I can’t believe you!” You cried, letting a tear slip down your cheek.

“(Y/N) it was just a game!” Rafe exhaled, running his hand through his hair in frustration.

“Great, just great!” You threw your arms up in the air, “so we’re just a game too?”

“It’s a party! Shit like that happens all the time,” Rafe said, still not seeming to understand why you were upset.

“Not when you have a girlfriend!” You shouted, you were full on crying at this point. “And not when she’s sat right next to you!”

“You put us on a break remember?” Rafe exclaimed, failing to comprehend.

“A break...you’re not supposed to cheat on a break Rafe, you’re supposed to work to make things right again!” You choked, your throat closing up causing your voice to sound strained.

“What did you want from me (Y/N)?” Rafe cried out, pain now laced in his voice as he saw you break down in front of him.

“What I wanted? I wanted you to fight for me!” You cried, clenching your teeth to stop you from letting out sobs.

“I wanted you to say that there was no one else that you could ever be with and that you'd rather be alone than without me!” You continued through sobs, your body shaking, your voice cracking.

“How was I supposed to know that?” Rafe responded, his voice hushed and strained. 

“You just are,” you sighed, the last of your tears falling as you wiped them away.

With that you walked away, not giving him another minute of your time. You knew it was futile, and your heart had suffered enough. You were done.

Rafe stood there in shock as he watched you disappear right in front of him. Part of him was screaming at him to run after you and kiss you, tell you how much he loves you. But the other part of him knew he couldn’t. Rafe was in pain. He hadn’t realised what he’d been doing had affected you so much. He knew he’d acted off and distant, but it was only because he felt overwhelmed sometimes. He never learnt how to be loved, let alone how to love, so he couldn’t handle it sometimes, it would freak him out. But seeing you like this, hearing the pain in your voice, the pain that he’d caused? It broke him. He was no better than his father, and he hated himself for it.

Rafe let his own tears fall as he came to terms with the reality of your situation. He’d lost you because he couldn’t love you the way you wanted him to. There was nothing that hurt him more than knowing he could never be good enough for you, he didn't know how to be. All he’d ever wanted to be his whole life was good enough, always living in the shadow of his sister, never living up to his father’s expectations. And now he knew he wasn’t. He wasn’t good enough for his father, and he sure as hell wasn’t good enough for you, and now he knew he never could be.

+

A/N: idk how proud of this I am but there u have it!

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#outer banks #rafe cameron #rafe imagine #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron x reader #rafe x reader #drew starkey #outer banks imagine #obx imagine #obx #obx netflix #outer banks netflix #drew starkey x reader #rafe obx #rafe outer banks

[anotherficwriter]

The Serpent’s Secret Lover

Alright y’all! Here it is!!! This is the first smut I’ve posted on this page so let me know what you think! 

Summary: The Northside Princess and the Serpent prince have a small secret: they’ve been dating for months. When the prince’s insecurities get the best of him, can his princess ease his worries? 

Warnings: SMUT, lightly mentioned daddy kink (LIGHTLY like barley there), oral (f receiving), unprotected sex, pet names, LOTS OF FLUFF and soft Sweets!!

“Do you know what time you’ll be back, hun?” You hear your mom’s voice as you descended down the stairs. “I want to know if I’m setting your place for dinner or not.” 

“Uh… I’m not sure. I might sleep over Betty’s tonight after we get back from the movie but I’ll keep you updated,” the lie comes easily to you as you have told it so many times before. It was always Betty or Veronica’s house because you knew your mom wouldn’t call to check up on you while you were there. She trusted you so much that you almost felt bad for lying to her so much but you knew that if she knew where you were actually going, you would never be allowed to visit, let alone spend the night. 

“Sounds good! Want a ride to the theatre? Or are you meeting at Pop’s?” 

“Pop’s probably. But don’t worry about it, I can walk! I’ll text you when I know my plans,” with some quick goodbyes you were out the door and headed in the direction for Pop’s. Passing your neighbors houses, waving to them and asking how they were doing as they watered their plants at sundown or walked their dogs around the neighborhood. A few streets down you could guess that Betty and Archie were in their homes probably doing homework or working on the next town mystery and you’re sure that if you asked they would be down to go see a movie or grab a shake at Pop’s and if they did then you wouldn’t have to lie and you could cancel your original plans. Your phone dings and lights up with a text message as your guilty conscious threatens to take hold. 

From: Daddy Sweets 😘🍆 💦

Omw baby 

See you in 10 

You roll your eyes at the newest name change that Sweet Pea gave to himself in your phone. Every time that you spend the night, you wake up the next morning and there’s a new contact name and a new contact picture that gets more explicit every week. You type a quick reply and hope that he is already on his motorcycle and not able to read it because you couldn’t handle the embarrassment that would come with it. 

To: Daddy Sweets 😘🍆 💦

Okay, daddy  😘 Can’t wait!!

Much to your chagrin, he answers almost immediately that you know he’s shocked and probably a little worked up. 

From: Daddy Sweets 😘🍆 💦

oh baby I’m gonna rock your fucking world

You quickly put your phone in the pocket of your cardigan and duck your head to hide the blush on your cheeks and neck from the rest of your neighbors on your street but your mind is already swimming with the possibilities of what your boyfriend might do to you when he gets you home and with those thoughts you put your headphones in and pick up your pace towards Pop’s. 

---

When you see the neon sign of Pop’s approaching you slow your pace until you’re stopped just around the corner. You can’t risk going in because any number of your friends or neighbors or general acquaintances could be in there and if they saw you then they might see who you leave with and who knows who they might tell and who those people would then tell and it was all too big of a risk. The once a week that you slept over Sweet’s house, you met at the corner by Pop’s where he’d pick you up on his motorcycle and drive away as quickly as possible to Sunnyside Trailer Park. 

You could hear the faint rumble of a motorcycle over your headphones and you quickly pulled them out of your ears and into your pocket with your phone. What you failed to notice was the car pulling up on the other side of the street that contained your friends. 

Betty, Archie, Veronica, and Jughead all drove up together in Betty’s mom’s car and noticed you at the same time. Right as they were about to roll the windows down and ask if you wanted to join them at Pop’s they saw a motorcycle pull up next to you and you walk closer to it. When the driver took off their helmet to hand it to you there were audible gasps from the friends in the car. 

“Is Sweet Pea kidnapping Y/N?” Betty was the first one to speak up and although she was partially joking, she had no idea what to make of the scene unfolding in front of them. 

As you grasped the helmet from Sweets, he leaned down ever so smoothly and you knew what he was asking for. Very quickly you rose up your toes to give him a chaste kiss on the lips before putting his helmet on and hopping on the back of the bike before securely wrapping your arms around his waist. And with that, he drove off. 

The four friends gaped as they watched the two of you speed off down the street in the direction of the Southside. Veronica was the first one to say anything. 

“Are they… a thing? Like did they just kiss or am I hallucinating?” Her tone was riddled with confusion and the faces of the other three had the same feeling etched across them. 

“No way! The two of them are polar opposites. I didn’t  think they could be within the same room with each other without the forces of good and evil  using the space between them as a battlefield for their unholy war. Besides, I see Sweet Pea on a daily basis. He’s never said anything about anyone. Why would they hide it?” Jughead’s tone sounded sure but his facial expressions said otherwise. He hoped that he knew his own men well enough that he’d be able to tell when one of them was shacking up with someone so far out of their realm of possibility but maybe he was wrong.

“Probably for this exact reason! You’re right, Jug, they are two complete opposite ends of the spectrum and we have no idea what the true nature of their relationship is but here we are, judging them,” Veronica was surprised to find herself to be the one speaking words of calmness into the air but she was sure that there was something about the whole situation that these four didn’t know. “Maybe they’re friends? Or she’s his tutor for a class they share?” She knew these answers were wrong but she didn’t want to degrade her friend by automatically assuming she was the booty call of some Serpent but she also wasn’t sure she was ready to admit that they might be something more...romantic. 

“Tutors don’t kiss. Friends don’t kiss,” Archie finally offered his two cents. 

“Well, there’s nothing we can do to figure it out right now,” Betty offered. “Why don’t we continue with our regularly scheduled programming of getting some dinner and try not to think about what our friend might be doing right now.” 

With some nods from the rest of the group, the four got out of their car and walked into Pop’s trying to shake away their confusion. But they all knew that they needed to know the truth about what was really going on with the Northside Princess and the Serpent Prince.

----

Sweet Pea cut the engine to the bike as it stopped in front of his home and put his foot out to keep balance. Once he was safely off the bike he held out his hand and elbow for you to grab and you clambered off the motorcycle as gracefully as you could. You were pretty sure that no matter how many times you had gotten on and off this bke that you would never be fully comfortable. 

“You’re going to have to get used to it eventually, you know. I don’t plan on getting a car anytime soon,” the smirk on Sweet Pea’s face was enough to make you roll your eyes and hit him playfully on the chest. 

“Of course I had to pick the biker. I couldn’t go for someone with four wheels and a heater! I really should reevaluate my priorities.” 

“Oh, yeah? And what are you prioritizing by being with me, huh?” 

“Oh.. ya know,” you had started this interaction with the utmost confidence but as you glanced over your boyfriend's god-like physique and chiseled face you could not, for the life of you, remember what you were trying to say.

“I don’t actually, princess. Enlighten me. Is it your undeniable love for me? Maybe it's the chance to try something new and exciting? Or maybe,” he leaned down close to whisper into your ear, “it’s because you know I can fuck you until I have you cumming around my cock over and over and no other person could, huh? Is that it, princess?” His voice was hoarse as he pressed his body against yours and you felt the warmth of him through your clothes. Your head was reeling and you felt drunk off lust that it almost made you forget you were standing outside in front of the trailer where anyone could see you. You almost didn’t notice that he subtly asked if you were in love with him. Almost. 

“Sweets, we’re outside. People. Could get caught,” you were basically panting and he was drinking up every single second of it, knowing how much of an effect he had on your body. 

“Does that bother you, doll? Do you not want people to see how wet I can make you with just my words? Afraid one of your Northside friends are going to find their way over to the wrong side of the tracks and see their princess trapped in the hands of some horny Serpent?” His words were riddled with undertones of cockiness and sex and he was looking at you like you were the only thing that existed in this world. 

Before you could muster up the strength or willpower to do anything, Sweets had picked up your hand from your side and used it to pull you towards the door of his trailer and inside of it. 

“Eventually, you’re going to let me tell your friends about us and then I can do what I want with you, where I want and whenever I want. My shy, shy girl, so scared of how the big, bad biker makes you feel.” 

Something was different about this interaction. Out of all the times he had made you feel this level of desire or brought you to this trailer, he was sounding slightly… defensive? You had tried to ignore it when he was talking to you outside but know, even though he was hiding it through his heightened levels of lust for you, you could hear it ever-present in his words. Insecurity. 

The second the word entered your mind, it was gone as Sweet Pea had started placing sloppy kisses on your neck and collarbone making you let out a moan and fling your hands to tangle into his hair. As your hands moved down from his hair to the collar of his leather jacket to his chest, you could feel his heart thumping forcefully as his breathing was more shallow and rushed. He had one of his hands on your stomach pushed up under your shirt and one pressed against the back of your neck, holding you to him. 

“Take off your clothes,” this was not a question. It was a demand. Sweet Pea was never one to take things slow, normally. But with you he was the most patient and tender-hearted. He knew how much it meant to you to make your time together mean something so he always made it as romantic as he knew how to. Lewd words and rough sex was a part of that but this commanding tone was new and different. And you liked it. The part of your brain not clouded by your want for him wondered if this demanding demeanor had anything to do with the potential insecurities you had begun to uncover earlier but you didn’t have too much time to think about it before he started speaking again. 

“Take. Off. Your. Clothes. Don’t make me repeat myself, little one.” 

Your hands fumbled with the bottom of your shirt as you took it off after disrobing of your cardigan in a rush. When you look back towards Sweet Pea, his jacket was already off and he was ripping his flannel vest off his body and beginning to fumble with his belt. He looked at you with a hungry expressions, taking in the sight of you in your bra and jeans and he was positive he could lose it right then and there. He took another step closer to you and dropped to his knees. A shocked gasp left your mouth from seeing him in such a vulnerable position and you could feel your nerves setting aflame. The way he looked up at you as he palmed your thighs with his hands made you feel so vulnerable and so empowered all at once. Out there, he was the big, bad biker but here… here he was yours. He would do anything you asked of him. You both knew it and neither of you cared.

Sweet Pea’s hands tugged at the top of your jeans, pulling them to your ankles. Before you could kick them off he had his head in between your thighs, placing light kisses to your inner thighs, pelvic bone, and outer lips. Your hands went back to his hair where they tugged and lightly scratched at his scalp in need. He looked up at you through his lashes as he continued peppering you with kisses almost as if to say “Keep trying to rush me, watch what happens.” 

You were attempting to keep your cool and not try to rush him through his process but when you looked down and saw him reach a hand down to press against the growing bulge in his boxers, you snapped. Pushing his head away from your thighs and kicking off your jeans completely, you knelt on the ground in front of him. Immediately, you moved your hand down to his boxers and began to rub his erection through them. Sweet Pea let out a whine of needy pleasure at the feeling and you kept doing it in hopes that he would keep making those noises. His head went limp as he laid it on your shoulder to let you keep touching him. He had never wanted anything more than to feel your hands on him like this. For a minute he allowed himself to forget that he was supposed to be in control of this situation. He let his hips rut against your hand and he didn’t try to stop the moans and desperate whines that came from deep within his being. It wasn’t until he felt a familiar pressure building up in his lower abdomen that he thought he definitely needed to stop you right now. He was going to make you his tonight, in a way he never had before. And he could not do that if you had him coming in his boxers five minutes in. 

“Stop. Now,” he tried so hard to make it sound commanding but it was a plea. A whiny, unassertive beg. The need in his voice went straight to your core and made your hands shake but you didn’t stop. “Please…” it was barely a breath and you knew that he must be teetering on the edge of his orgasm if he was this desperate. Just when Sweets thought he couldn’t possibly contain himself any longer he grabbed your wrist and yanked it up towards him. 

“I said stop! Are you disobeying me?” Now it is your turn to be the whiny one. You let out a small squeak at his outburst and looked anywhere but his eyes. The throbbing vein in his neck. The contracting of his abdominal muscles as he still fought to hold off his orgasm even though you were no longer touching him. You were 100% sure that if you touched him even slightly right now or even said something a little dirty, he would lose it. But he was already back in control and you couldn’t risk him punishing you for making him cum so soon. 

“Answer me, little one. Were you disobeying me and trying to make me cum?” 

“...Yes,” your voice had never been so soft. “I’m sorry.”

“You will be.” 

And with that he placed one hand behind your knees and pulled them out from under you and put the other hand in the middle of your back as he used his body to lay you flat on the floor. A gentle but still controlling movement. He stood up to pull his boxers off and you watched in awe as this gorgeous man stood towering above you, fully nude. God, he was beautiful in the truest sense of the world. He noticed your staring and allowed himself a moment to feel bashful under your intense stare. He wasn’t dumb. He knew that he was attractive. He knew that there were dozens of girls who talk about his looks in the hallways at school but none of that mattered. Knowing that you thought he was worth your time, made him feel like a king. Like a god. 

Sweet Pea kneeled back down besides you and took in the sight of you before him. Your back was slightly arched as you awaited his touch. Your feet were tapping against the air in anticipation, too. He loved knowing that it was him who did this to you. Him, the serpent prince from the wrong side of town getting to take part in the deflowering of the Northside princess over and over again. What an honor, he thought to himself. 

To keep you from waiting any longer, Sweet Pea placed his hands on your covered breasts and trailed them down your stomach until he was laid out on top of you, face hovering above your clothed core as you lifted your head to look at him. This time, he didn’t tease you with kisses over your underwear. Instead, he yanked them off and lowered his head against you. Before you could think to gasp, his fingers were spreading your lips apart as his tongue found its way to your clit. Your hands were clenching and unclenching at your sides and he took his free hand to place one of yours on the top of his head, hoping that you would get the message. As your second hand followed your first, Sweet’s ministrations continued. He was lapping at your clit in small circles and then alternating to sucking it lightly, then harshly. When your hands started to clench tighter onto his hair, he took his free hand and slid his middle finger up and down your slit a few times before partially inserting it into you. He started slow, as always, and pumped half his finger in and out of you for a while until you were comfortable enough for him to fully insert it, the whole time making sure to lick your clit the way he knew you liked it.

“How you feeling, baby, huh? You like that?” He knew you did. But hearing you say it made him  feel validated and worthy. He would do whatever you needed him to do if it meant you’d let him make you feel good. 

“Uh-huh… so goooood,” complete sentences were not your friend and your voice spiked higher on the last word as new levels of pleasure flooded you. 

“What do you think baby? Should I make you cum like this?” You wanted to say yes, obviously. The things this boy could do with his tongue… wow. But you wanted him. More of him.

“No- ahh- no… I want you, Sweets...inside me,” it was the best you could do with the given circumstances but it was good enough to make Sweet Pea growl against you. He loved hearing anything sexual come out of your mouth, especially when it sounded so wrecked and needy. 

“Yeah? Think you deserve that after what you pulled earlier? Think you deserve my cock after trying to make me cum in my boxers earlier?” 

“Yess, please!! Please, please, please,” you begged. 

Sweet Pea couldn’t tease you, or himself, any longer. Hearing the way you begged for him and feeling how hard he already was pressing against your legs, he needed to feel you wrapped around him just as much as you needed him inside of you. He crawled his way up your body and placed one hand on the floor beside your head to steady himself and used the other one to line himself up with your entrance. He dragged the tip of his cock up and down your slit making you wriggle your body against him and once he was satisfied with how worked up you both were, he pushed himself inside of you halfway and stilled. He kept one hand to steady himself and brought the other one up to your face to cradle it. 

“How’s that, princess? You like the feeling of my cock filling you up? What is this, five times now? And you feel better and better every time,” he meant that. He knew you needed to hear something a little more calming as your body still tried to get used to the feeling of having something this big, or anything for that matter, inside of it. No matter how badly he wanted to thrust into you and pound you until you were both dizzy, he knew you needed time to adjust. He stilled for a few moments before drawing himself out and pushing back in half way. When he felt the clenching of your muscles ease, he slowly slid himself all the way in and let out a moan he’d been holding since he first pushed into you. 

Although it didn’t hurt nearly as much as the first time, it still was slightly uncomfortable for the first few minutes and you appreciated how gentle and patient he actually was with you. You weren't stupid. You saw the strain in his face as he held himself back from wrecking you and you saw how his abs clenched as he fought the urge to release all of his pent up lust and aggression but he never let it take over him. He kept control and you loved that. 

When he finally picked up the pace a little bit, he dropped himself down onto his elbows and lowered his head onto your shoulders as he had done earlier. He let out muffled grunts and moans as he pushed himself in and out of you and you wrapped your arms around him to pull him closer to you. Your moans were flowing freely out of your mouth and right into his ear which he used as encouragement. He’d love to have those play in his mind all day, everyday. He began to move faster against you and you could see his muscles begin to strain as he started getting closer to his release. He grabbed one of your arms from around him and pushed your hand down to where your bodied connected. 

“Touch yourself. Rub your clit for me, baby,” it was gruff and scratchy as it came out of his mouth and you were shocked. That was new. He had never asked you to do anything like that before and you hadn’t thought you’d ever consider something like that. “Please, baby. I’m so close and I need to feel you cum around me. I need it.” 

Slowly, you dragged your hand from your hip down to your center and dragged it across your folds. Sweet Peas eyes were glued downwards towards your connected bodies as he watched your shaky hand finds its way to your clit. When you made contact, he felt you walls flutter around him and he lowered his head slightly and let out a throaty whine, as did you. 

“That’s it baby, just like that… oh god, yeah. I can feel you tightening around me. You getting close, princess? Huh?” He was panting now, rutting against you as fast as he could manage, taking pleasure in knowing how exciting this all was for you. He knew the second you started contracting around him that he was gone but he held it off as long as he could to get you there. 

“Sweets, ah! I think I’m close,” your voice was higher-pitched now as you neared your orgasm.

“You know what it feels like, baby. I’ve given you enough of them. You think or you know?” How he was managing to form complete thoughts and sentences was beyond him. Some rational part of his brain was functioning just enough to make sure you were okay while the primal part of his brain worked to get you both off.

“I know..oh my.. Sweet’s I’m gonna cum. I’m gonna- ahh!”

“Yes, baby, just like that. Oh god, I can feel you about to. Cum for me, princess, you’re doing so good.” 

He felt it before you did. He felt your walls tighten up and heard your breath hitch. He watched your hand ball into a fist and all of your muscles contract. Then he heard the moan. That telltale moan of a job well-done. When you clamped down around him, his resolve was gone and he felt himself break. He lowered his head and moaned against you as he thrusted into you sloppily and slower, he felt himself pulsing inside of you, as you continued contracting against him. 

“I love you,” he moaned.

It was literally explosive. The level of pleasure that came with the experiences he gave you were almost indescribable. You could live in that moment over and over. He knew exactly when to slow down, what to say, how to kiss to make you writhe beneath him. You heard him moaning into your neck and thought that there was no sound more beautiful than the sound of Sweet Pea moaning. Until you heard the words. They were rushed out and surrounded in the pants and groans of ecstasy but you heard them. You heard the hitch in his throat when he realized what he had done and you heard the pants of his breath as he continued to pulse inside of you. 

It took a few minutes for the two of you to catch your breath and recollect your brains into those of functional human beings again. When you finally did, Sweet Pea used whatever strength he had left to push himself off of you and rolled over to lay down on the floor next to you. He reached up to the end table next to the couch where he kept a box of tissues and flung them down to the ground. As he took some out to clean you up, you looked over at him and opened your mouth to say something. 

“Before you say anything, yes I meant it. Did I want to say it for the first time while rawing you on the floor of my trailer? No. But it happened and I meant it. You don’t need to say it back, and I won’t hold it against you if you don’t but I need you to know,” he maintained eye contact the whole time showing that there was no embarrassment in his words. He was proud to love you. 

“How long have you known?” That was all you could manage to get out. 

“A while. I didn’t know what the feeling was, just that I felt it. I think about you all the time. Every day when we’re separated I think about how much longer until I can see you again. I hear people talk about you in school and I think about how lucky I am that I’m the one you chose to be with. The first time you let me make love to you, I saw this look in your eye and I swear that I could’ve fucking cried. You trusted me not to hurt you and to take care of you during your first time and I had never been trusted like that before. Never been cared for like that before.”

“And all that earlier? About getting me to let you tell my friends about us? And about trying new and exciting things?”

“You know me, princess. I don’t do feelings. I don't do love or patience or beauty. Or I didn’t. Every morning I wake up afraid that you being with me is a phase and that you’re going to realize how much better you are than this. Than me. I guess I’m… insecure? I don’t know. All I know is that when I hear those guys ask you out or talk about you in the locker room, I get angry. Like red hot angry because I think that they make way more sense for you. They come from the right side of town, have the right last names, make the right amount of money. And I don’t and I never will,” it was dark in the room but you were sure that if you rolled over to look at his face, you would see tears streaming down it. You heard some shuffling around from next you and when you finally turned your face to look at him he was sitting up next to you. 

You sat up with him and put your arms around him in a hug. You stayed like that for a few minutes just listening to the sound of his heartbeat. When you finally pulled back you saw him looking down at you. 

“Please say something,” he asked. 

“Sweets, I don’t ever want you to feel like that. Those guys are not any better than you because of their last names, or their money, or what side of town their house is on. You are the man I chose. At the end of the day, that is the best decision I have ever made. You make me happier than I ever thought possible. Everyone calls me the princess but you are the only person who has ever made me feel like one. I love you, Sweet Pea. So much,” it was as if a weight had been lifted off of his shoulders when the words flowed out of your mouth. If he thought your moans were the most beautiful thing he’d ever heard, he was mistaken. He wanted the sound of you saying you loved him as his ringtone, alarm clock, favorite song, and more. 

“You do?” 

“Yes, of course I do.”

He grabbed your face with his hands and brought your lips to his. The way he touched you made you feel like an expensive antique that he was too afraid to break. So gentle and filled with admiration. 

“If it's okay with you, can we just wait a little while longer to tell everyone? I know you want to but I’m just not ready for all the questions yet. I mean it's been a few months but I just need some more time,” you asked. It wasn’t that you wouldn't love to put an official “claim” on Sweets or that you weren't proud to be his but you knew what would happen once people found out. There would be stares and silent judgments and questions you couldn’t answer or answers you weren’t ready to divulge yet. 

“Yes, baby. We can wait as long as you need. But I can’t promise that I won’t ‘bump into you’ more often now,” the two of you chuckled as he air quoted the phrase. “You just told me you love me, the damn on holding back affection is slowly breaking down.” 

“Deal. Just try not to make it too obvious. The last thing either of us need is our meddling friends, especially your King and Veronica, poking around and asking questions. Trust me, you do not want to wrath of Veronica Lodge hovering over you just yet,” Sweets made a mock scared face as you said the words and pulled you closer to him. “I guess I should tell my mom that I’m spending the night at Betty’s.”

“Yeah, I think that’s a good idea. I got a lot more to do to you tonight. I mean with you…” 

“Did you mean that though?” You asked.

“No, no I didn’t,” the smirk made its way back to his face as he pulled you onto his lap and into another searing kiss.

#sweet pea #sweet pea imagine #sweet pea smut #sweet pea x reader #riverdale #riverdale imagine #riverdale imagines #riverdale smut #archie andrews #betty cooper #veronica lodge #jughead jones

[sol1056]

shooting it all into the sun

I haven’t seen anyone else bringing this up (or at least, the people I follow haven’t been reblogging it, if it has) but I think it’s worth pointing out. Given the bios a lot of you have at your headers, I’m guessing most of you haven’t had the firsthand experience that would help you see how startling (and pointed) a certain exec move was, in VLD’s final season. 

To understand that, though, humor me with a thought experiment first. Once you’ve got the basic mindset, then I’ll explain what in S8 made me sit back in absolute shock and reevaluate DreamWorks pretty thoroughly. 

1. Think of a large sum of money for you. Your paycheck, your savings, or all your holiday gift money from elderly relatives. Big enough that spending it all on one thing is a little scary. Let’s call this your cash-on-hand.

2. Think of a decision you make regularly. Do the dishes after dinner, or let them sit overnight? Take this bus at your corner, or walk two blocks for a different bus? Study with friends, or alone? Something relatively minor.   

3. Now imagine: there’s money riding on your choice, equal to the amount in step #1. Choose wrong by some mysterious measure, and you lose all your money. All of it.

4. Another twist: it’s not predictable. The first time you do the dishes right after dinner, you lose. The next time, you wait til morning... and lose. You’d probably realize quickly there must be other factors making an impact.

5. Another twist: if you choose right, you get a bonus. A dollar extra, a hundred, or more. You’d have to pay careful attention to what else could be in play, making the bonus small this time, and huge the next time.

6. And for the god-tier twist, every decision is actually multiple-choice: take the bus, walk, get a ride from a friend, work from home? One choice will cost you, another won’t cost you but won’t gain you either. Another will get you a small but decent bonus, and another gets you a bonus twice your cash-on-hand.  

How would this impact your decision-making? You’d start to track when you lost, when you didn’t, and when you gained. You’d look at all kinds of things: maybe “study with friends” is only good when the teacher's out sick. Or “walk two blocks” is only the right choice if it’s not raining --- and when it is raining, you have to score “get a ride” for the biggest bonus.

Figuring out the logic is going to take some wrong guesses, and each one sets you back to zero. You might get lucky and get a bonus -- and proceed to lose it all trying to reproduce what you did right that one time. Was it the weather? time of day? someone’s mood? So many factors. You’d weigh every decision carefully -- especially new ones. Is this like that time I lost everything, or more like when I got that huge bonus? Hold on, is it raining? Mood check! 

Bottom line: the more you have on the line, and the closer that ‘more’ is to ‘everything you have,’ and the more unpredictable the number of factors, the more conservative (little-c) people tend to be. We’ll hoard, save, hold back. The bigger the gamble, the bigger the potential gains --- but the risks are just as big.

You are now --- in a limited but hopefully illustrative way --- thinking like an executive. Big money, big potential, bigger risk. 

As an exec, maybe you figured in the last stretch of a multi-season show, the staff didn’t need constant supervision... and then you see S8. Obviously, you figured wrong. Whatever your specific complaints, you agree with the other execs: this season needs fixing. And fast.

The question is: what needs to be fixed, and what can be fixed, given time constraints, limited remaining staff, and whatever is left in the budget? It’s a lot of choices with big consequences. 

Doing nothing will cost in a lot of ways: franchise goodwill, future income, your brand and reputation, and of course, the audience’s good faith. Doing nothing simply isn’t an option. At the same time, there’s no point laying new carpet in a house that’s falling down. You can’t fix everything. What can you do that’s just enough to patch up the worst? 

Well, an epilogue where everyone gets a happy ending, that also leaves open the chance for franchise continuation... that might work. It’s not a full episode, and it could be done in the time remaining, by in-house staff. Alright, then. What goes in this couple of minutes? This is your chance to tell the audience what you, as execs, think is a good place for the story to end. What do you want to say? What’s your highest priority? 

A conservative set of execs, from a conservative company (think Nickelodeon) would show each character as happy in their post-series lives, and call it a day. That’s the safe bet. You might not gain much, but you’ll lose less. An adequate fix for the least cost in terms of cash, time, and effort.

In case you missed it: this is not the choice DreamWorks made.

All along, the EPs have paid lip service to VLD’s queer audiences, like in this oft-quoted exchange from Let’s Voltron podcast:

interviewer: Will we be seeing any LGBT representation? LM: It’s super important to us. JDS: Just know that from our perspective, we’re fighting to create as open and broad a spectrum of characters as we can. LM: We can’t give you any definite answers, but just know that--- JDS: We’re fighting for as broad and open representation as we can.

A company playing it safe would give every character an ambiguously (and unpaired) happy ending. A company walking the same edge as the EPs --- a lot of lip service, requiring a lot of reading between the lines --- might give a Korrasami ending. 

An idea of what that might look like: Shiro’s section shows pictures on a mantle. In the center is one of Shiro with another man; perhaps they have their arms around each other, both smiling at the camera, flanked by the paladins. It’s the barest possible nod for a queer audience; for everyone else, that could just be Shiro with his new best (totally-platonic) flight partner. 

That’s choosing to lose small. Throw a bone to the queers, but not so much to piss off the assumed-majority straights in the audience. 

Or you could just say fuck that and go for broke. 

DreamWorks didn’t have to go that big. Really, they didn’t. The EPs had set up a perfect cover for the execs to hide behind: getting representation is hard, so many barriers, you just need to be patient and maybe you’ll get a split second nod that you have to tilt your head and squint to interpret as any kind of queerness, but really, we’re totally fighting for every little scrap. 

DW took the EPs’ protests and tore them into smithereens. Then DW gathered up all those teeny pieces and shot every last one into the goddamn sun. 

In the big picture, I do agree that everything else being equal, a five-second clip like this is pretty much the opposite of satisfactory. Audiences want to see the relationship develop; that’s what really matters. A wedding kiss is just a happy by-product.

But if you’re an exec who has only so much money left to gamble, a company policy of not reacting publicly to audience reactions (for better or worse), and limited time to repair or redo the damage in the final season... you need to make the most of what you do have. 

So you edit Ezor in so she’s not one more dead queer character, you edit a few scenes to include a love interest’s presence earlier in the season... and you blow the lid off the EPs’ prevarication. None of this implying bullshit; you put it all right there on the screen.

You know what that says? 

It says there was no goddamn reason we couldn’t have had a long development of an mlm (or wlw) relationship, onscreen, over the course of several seasons. I don’t care which relationship you think it should be; that’s not the point. It says as far as the execs are concerned, we could’ve had a queer relationship written as romantic and sealed with a kiss, none of this euphemism crap. It says in the execs’ opinion, every time the EPs swore they did ‘all they were allowed to do’, that the EPs were wrong. 

The inserted epilogue is practically a neon sign two stories high. 

HEY THIS IS OKAY BY US, WE WOULD’VE BEEN FINE WITH YOU HAVING THIS EARLIER, JUST SO YOU KNOW

Want to know what else the epilogue tells us?

Remember all the steps at the start of this post, how everything is setting you up (as an exec) for not acting without all possible data, for moving slow and being cautious in case this wrong guess is the final straw? 

There’s another side to that: sometimes, you have to gamble because doing nothing is against everything you stand for. Even if it costs more and appears to gain you nothing in the bank. 

When you take in everything --- from the money lost (20M is a conservative estimate for VLD’s production costs), franchise partners who might not be keen on queer cooties, to the EPs who swore what we got was all they could get --- DW is making a pretty clear statement, here. Being inclusive and progressive is important enough to them that even in a show patently and obviously failing on every count, they’ll still make sure it doesn’t end with a handful of dead queers and one shelved mlm guy. 

Yes, DW still has to clean its own house and do some internal education to make sure its decision-makers don’t sit back for so long and let a bunch of newbie showrunners impose their narrow-minded regressive agenda. Yes, DW was a day late and a dollar short when it came to fixing the catastrophe of S7 and the complete hash of S8. Yes, DW clearly chose to bury S8, rather than yank it back and redo it over. 

But they also chose not to let it go down without showing their support for onscreen, explicit queer characters and relationships. 

Enough with the grumbling about so-called exec meddling; we’re overdue to lay the blame for bad LGBT representation squarely on the EPs. All they gave us was a lot of empty talk. It’s the DW execs who gambled on walking on the walk, and I think it’s time we recognize that.

#vld #voltron #season 8 #representation #lgbtqia+

[demytasse]

[Shizaya] Key to My Heart

In response to @allshewhispers for her Drabble Challenge propmt. It spiraled out of control and became a oneshot rather than a bloody drabble. *throws up arms*

Prompt 84: “Show me what’s behind your back.”

The dial tone that played over Izaya’s cell speaker mocked him. He had already restarted the monotonous song three times and had began to pattern the impatient tap of his fingers after the incessant beeps.

Had he not been in a fairly pleasant mood he would have started to count the minutes that his secretary neglected answer her phone in order to dock her pay appropriately; had he not been running sparse of time, he would have given up with a shrug and an ‘oh well’. Izaya was neither at the moment so as he heard the professionally terse voicemail recording yet again, a redial was in preparation.

Fourth time, unlike the idiom stated, was the charm as a click and an unspoken greeting interrupted the second beep and caused Izaya to jump in his chair, now alert.

   “Ah, Namie-san, it’s nice to finally hear your voice on this fine morning.”

If anything was muttered on the other end of the line the phone didn’t pick up on it. Izaya took the cue to continue.

   “This might seem like a cheap plot point from a prime-time sitcom, but spare me your sarcastic remarks. As ridiculous as it sounds, I can’t leave my apartment due to my inability to lock the door from the outside,” he chirped.

   “You’re right. It does seem like you're jumping the shark with that excuse to drag me into work on a weekend.” Namie huffed.

   “Hey now, what did I say about that sarcasm? Besides, why would I make something like that up? I’m more upfront than most people think I am.”

An empty sigh roughed up the receiver and Izaya found himself lucky that she didn't immediately hang up.

   “Dare I ask how this happened?”

   “Would you believe me if I said that I lost possession of my key due to unforeseen circumstances?”

   “I should have known that you would immediately go from being upfront to hiding the truth behind lies.”

   “Harsh! Honestly though, I have lost my key and I need to leave in an hour and a half for a meeting. I need you here before then with a duplicate of your key,” he spoke with a concise tone that played down his anxiousness.

   “Honestly, nothing would humour me more than you missing your appointment. Tell me what really happened or I won’t come over there, Izaya.”

Already behind schedule, the informant hummed while he expediently battled the pros and cons of rewinding his morning for Namie. Reclined in his office chair, a leg over the other, Izaya rocked back and forth with a nervous twitch of his foot. He was reluctant to tell the real story, but decided to compromise with a deviation from lying entirely.

   “Alright, I’ll play along.”

   “Keep it short.”

   “Please, you speak as though I don’t know how to keep my thoughts appropriately brief.”

Namie coughed.

   “Fine, fine,” Izaya sighed, “How did I even get into this mess? Oh that’s right! It started the same as always: with an aggressive bartender that managed to invade my apartment...”

Up to this point, Izaya had shared his bed with Shizuo well past a handful of times, better described as a spill from one’s hands into the other’s. It was more than enough time to build a tolerance for most of the brute’s less appealing sleeping habits. While some he could deal with, others were harder to forgive.

As it would seem, Shizuo's violent tendencies weren’t exclusive to when he was conscious. The severity of his attacks were decreased for sure, but the hefty drop of his arm over Izaya's shoulders or his unpredictable shoves to the edge of the bed were just as annoying as his full-fledged attacks. However those nuisances were easy to retaliate, so it was more the shock that got to him if anything.

His completely intolerable quirk was his rooster-like instincts that woke the beast at undesired hours like clockwork. Izaya was glad he didn't crow out an alarm upon the filter of sunlight through the windows, but Shizuo’s inconsiderate lug off the mattress was equally jarring. As he did so without mind of his bed partner it especially grated against his nerves.

The insomniac info broker wasn't a talented sleeper to begin with, but on the occasions when the two partook of heated sleepovers he was afterwards knocked out with more success than a pill could ever hope to achieve. And yet when the blond woke at the crack of dawn, the brunet was soon to follow.

With the way that Shizuo abruptly removed himself from the bed, it seemed like an act of desperation to flee the scene of an accidental one night stand. Since their first time was more of a drunken stumble through an awkward romp in the sack, it could have easily inspired Shizuo to run from the consequence of their affair. But as the two continued well beyond tens of what could have been marked as mistakes, it made Izaya wonder if he actually meant to put an end to their weekly tousles or if the way he woke was just a Shizuo-ism.

What clued Izaya to reevaluate his assessment was the patterned way that Shizuo prepared himself to leave after he tossed the covers away. He’d gather up his clothing in a specific order that he never strayed. First acquired was his pre-wrinkled shirt, followed by his worn-in slacks, his slightly faded vest, and always ended with his bowtie; each article was a cross on his checklist as if to prevent him from forgetting his beloved uniform and seemed more organized than Izaya would suspect him to be.

Regardless of how he procured them, Shizuo would shove himself into his garments in a jumbled order before he headed to the doorway while he did up his fly and secured his buttons. It was both a show and lack of care; a hilarious contradiction of habits.

The part of his agenda that tickled Izaya’s curiosity the most was his stall at the exit. With his fingers laid on the handle, body faced forward, Shizuo would glance back to whom he left behind. Izaya was always in keen observation at this point, but all Shizuo knew was that he watched the other as he slept.

The first morning, his crinkled nose read conflicted, the second through the fifth turned into stoic contemplation, but onward it became the most natural of smiles to ever creep his face. Maybe Izaya was blessed by some god he didn't believe in, because in no other situation did he manage to witness this candid display and it seemed that only divine influence could hide his alert eyes from Shizuo's notice. The brief pause would draw longer with each occurrence, but inevitably ended shorter than Izaya wanted with a bashful escape.

Usually Izaya left him to his own thump down the stairs and unintentionally slam the door, but in current he decided to act on a hunch that he figured was in his favour to follow. Sheets slipped off his back onto the floor as he snatched discarded briefs and tripped his way into them while in pursuit.

From the top of the stairs, Izaya crouched low behind the handrail without much care to hide. If he was caught, he was caught. He’d roll with it and have some fun, but the strategy proved useless as Shizuo barely had control of his faculties, let alone spacial awareness, and stumbled into the kitchen.

While stationary he ran his bleary eyes across the countertops. Izaya pondered what the other could possibly be looking for with an inquisitive raised brow.

Within seconds the blond located his sought item and jumped to wrap his grip around it. He brought his prize up close to observe. A jingle and catch of light helped Izaya identify the unknown: his keys.

The minimal accessories made for an easy discern and soon Shizuo wedged a blunt thumbnail into the groove of the ring only to hiss out a curse when he dropped the metal onto the floor with a clatter. The second try at the puzzle allowed a removal of the key from the collection.

A goofy grin spread on Shizuo’s tired face as he pocketed the item and tossed the others away. Izaya restrained himself from a burst of laughter and barely managed a quiet snicker.

   What a dweeb the usually grumpy bodyguard could be.

As Izaya hoped, Shizuo failed to notice him even with the poor cover of his inescapable humour.

The thief’s dress socks aided a boyish skate across the hardwood over to the front where he shoved his shoes on in haste. A slam shook the door on its hinges per Shizuo's accident, just like Izaya predicted.

   “It's embarrassing to admit, but the beast did indeed best me. He stormed off with my key as payment for something he assumed I did, yet again.”

Izaya sung through the end of his tall tale he created for Namie. It skimmed across the top of his intricate memory of the situation and twisted most of the truth, but all-in-all it shared the important facet of Shizuo leaving with his key. There was no use to reveal the intimate details of his rendezvous with Shizuo.

   “And you let him leave with it.” She replied dryly with near disbelief.

   “I did.”

   “So it's your own fault.”

   “If you want to narrow blame onto one person it would seem appropriate to tag the thief. But I suppose you'll only ever accuse me so… Probably, yes.”

Namie groaned into the speaker. Izaya knew that the particular version used was in accompaniment of a deep tissue massage of her temple.

   “You can call a locksmith to come change the lock then. I'm not heading all the way over there for something you could have avoided.”

Izaya hummed in thought, “I can’t do that, though.”

   “Yes you can. You’re an informant. Put your ‘skills’ to good use and Google a professional.”

   “Ah, that's not what I meant.”

   “...”

The silence held for few moments as the two respectively sussed out what was taken from the comment and what the ascertained meant.

Izaya cleared his throat unnecessarily.

   “Well, I suppose I’m just going to have to reschedule this appointment or see if they can Skype. Take care of the key situation before you come in on Monday.” His phone already lowered from his ear, he added a dismissive wish, “enjoy your weekend, Namie-san.”

   “You've got to be kidding me--”

Late in the evening a surprisingly soft click of the front door revealed a nervous blond that skulked into the entry of the apartment.

He was dressed in an outfit entirely casual rather than his usual professional; a loose fitted t-shirt showed a sliver of his belt from where he lazily tucked a corner of the hem into his slim jeans. His designer sneakers, that he clearly hadn’t bought himself, were toed off so he could walk into the open as if he naturally belonged in the space while he dampened his heavy steps with difficulty.

The floorboards creaked beneath his wobbled step, but he didn’t pause until his presence was called out.

   “How strange it is for Shizu-chan to bark up my tree two nights in a row, let alone waltz into my apartment without my assistance at the door.”

Shizuo froze. He refrained from a snap of his attention towards the occupied couch to strategize an appropriate response.

   “...the door was unlocked.”

His eyes made brief contact with Izaya’s before they took to another object in the room.

   “Oh~?” An amused smile crept closer to half-massed eyes while his brows remained neutral. ”Maybe I was absent minded when I re-entered my apartment this morning. Funny story, I tried to leave for an appointment in the city, but when I went to lock the door…”

Shizuo winced as a tell of what he knew would follow.

   “...my key was missing! It was unfortunate that I had to reschedule my meeting as I wasn’t able to locate it. You know how dangerous it is for a man of my profession to leave his apartment door unlocked, even if it’s a highly secured building.”

   “Oh, er, sorry about that.” Shizuo motioned to scratch the back of his head, but caught himself midway and dropped his hand at his side.

   “Why? You’re not to blame.”

   “...right.”

   “Anyway, are you going to show me what's behind your back?”

Izaya pointed his finger in perfect beeline of Shizuo’s hidden possession.

An immediate correction of his posture from slumped to militant, Shizuo attempted to remove suspicion and received an sarcastic head tilt from the accuser.

   “Why do you think something’s behind my back?”

   “Well, Shizu-chan, usually you’re more open with the way you walk. You bumble about like an idiot without a care of your appearance. Suddenly, you’re restrained and janky much like a trope criminal in a TV mystery.”

   “Do you have to fuckin’ analyze everything?”

   “It comes naturally, so it's unavoidable,” he shrugged in neglect of his other arm that draped the back of the couch.

   “Just forget it.”

Shizuo started to walk off as if he had a predetermined destination in mind.

   “You're still hiding something.”

   “So?” his head snapped back towards Izaya.

   “He admits it now…” Izaya chuckled.

   “Fuck.”

   “There's no use in hiding it. Besides, all I have to do is go over there to figure it out.”

   “Why don't you walk over and prove it then, hah?”

Annoyance replaced guilt. Accentuated creases formed at Shizuo’s browline in partner with the ones at his lips.

   “I’m lazy.”

   “Yeah, I'm especially not showin’ you now.”

   “What a brat,” he sung.

   “Look who's talkin’!”

   “Come on… I’m going to find out sooner or later.”

   “No shit? That's the point of a surprise, Izaya.”

   “Oh!” A delighted clap and a brightened smile had Izaya scooch to the edge of his seat. “So it's a surprise for me then?”

   “...”

Shizuo grumbled in defeat. The tension at his crooked elbow let up to reveal that his hand held onto an item to which was covered by his fist. Izaya circled his hand in beckon of his company.

With a scoff, Shizuo made a feeble attempt to shield his appreciation for how eager the overly-observant informant was; he walked up and aggressively bumped their kneecaps. No longer in care of keeping distance the blond attacked with a brown paper bag to the brunet’s face.

The back of Izaya’s hand brushed the sharp corner away from his jabbed eye.

   “What's this?”

   “The surprise.”

   “Your surprises are terrible. It's still in the paper bag--”

   “Just fuckin’ open it, flea!”

Still agitated from the scuff of his cornea, Izaya snatched his gift. His eye was dramatically held in a wink and matched his frown. The bag crinkled under his nimble fingers that worked at the egregiously folded top. He peeked inside before he removed a piece of polished metal.

   “Why, it's my missing key,” he held it out to inspect; remainant shavings clung to the sharp edges. “Rather, a new one. You shouldn't have, Shizu-chan!”

   “Shut up! That's not the surprise. Err... well it's part of it.” Shizuo bit his retort while he tugged his shirt up to shove a hand into the pocket taut against his hip bone.

Izaya laughed when he noticed it was the opposite pocket from the one already exposed by tucked fabric.

   “Stop laughing, louse!” Shizuo struggled to dig out the hidden item. He finally managed to pull out a key ring and immediately rifled through the decorations before he held up an assumed twin of what Izaya held.

   “I uh... figured it was time we moved to the next step.”

Izaya darted his glance from their respective keys and back onto Shizuo.

   “Next step? You mean, beyond occasionally indulging in our wack sexual desires?”

   “I guess.”

A worthy moment of silence let the reality settle. Izaya had expected something akin to what Shizuo proclaimed after that morning, but the almost non committal response caught him off guard.

   “You know, normally it’s the apartment owner’s job to offer their key and not the guest's duty to steal and duplicate it.”

   “Yeah well... I wasn't sure if you’d accept.”

   “So you forced it.”

   “Hey, I’m asking you!”

   “Not really. You danced around asking me.”

   “Izaya,” he growled.

   “I’m just saying. Properly follow the semantics, Shizu-chan.”

   “Would ya just answer already?!”

   “Mmm,” Izaya rest a finger on his chin, “No.”

   “Hah!?”

A nod flit dark bangs into Izaya’s eyes. He tilted to the side to slip his new key into his pocket, then retracted back into his previous position.

   “You might as well move in rather than simply having access to my flat.”

Shizuo blinked, “Wait, wait. That's a bit quick... Right?”

   “Are you refusing?”

   “No.”

   “It's not too quick, then.”

The duo mirrored each other’s smile without realizing.

   “So, we’re dating? No,” Shizuo shook his head and looked into space, his hand rested beneath his lip, “that happens before moving in together.”

   “Don't think too hard about it.”

   “We’re a couple, then.”

Izaya was caught off guard for the second time that night, “if you need to title it, I suppose that’s correct.”

Shizuo shrugged, “We hated each other since high school, kinda feels like we need the label so we don’t forget, or something. Ugh, no that sounds dumb--”

   “Then we’re a couple,” Izaya rolled his eyes as if it were originally his offer. It surprised him that it didn’t rile the other.

   “Fuck. That's weird.”

When Shizuo called out the oddity, suddenly it did feel quite weird.

   “Indeed… There's still time to call it off, Shizu-chan.”

   “No! Fuck you, flea! That's not what I meant!”

Izaya was already mid-stretch towards Shizuo who sputtered through his nerves; he eased off the couch just enough to pull the flustered man to rest his knees on the floor beside him. He angled his form to align their sight to reassure his confidence, “sometimes you’re insufferable, Shizu-chan.”

Fingers buried into the blond’s hair and massaged a path to the back of his head. Izaya invited Shizuo forward into a press of their lips. Their muscles relaxed at the touch. In opposition to their usually frantic attacks, their gentle exchange spoke of how they long desired something more sentimental.

It was technically their first kiss as every other act of intimacy had sexual intent. Neither of them had tried to coerce the other to give into what they both unconsciously knew they wanted even after months had past. Their affair was passionate, but always lacked true emotion, unlike what they showed in the moment with their tender caress of one another.

Space continued to lay between them in respect of their adolescent infatuation they had only wished to act upon several years back. The work of their lips was coy and the flutter of their shared pulse was innocently juvenile and brought a splash of warmth to their cheeks. Izaya’s quirked lips pressed into Shizuo’s joyful beam while they nuzzled closer.  

Off to the side, Izaya walked his fingers over to his intentionally positioned phone; going off instinct he blindly woke the screen and slid his fingertip over to send a prepared text message to his secretary.

   [Never mind getting my key duplicated. It’s been taken care of.]

He pushed the cell over the slick leather surface onto the plush rug; the cushioned drop went ignored by the other man crawled over his partner who lay himself back onto the couch. They ditched their act of teenaged romance for a more appropriate indulgence with skilled removal of their shirts and clothes to follow. Relieved chuckles bounced off their chests as they celebrated their newfound relationship with proper exercise of their shared love.

Only later would Izaya realize that he saved a draft of his text message rather than sent it when Namie entered the apartment early Monday morning. As her purse dropped to the ground in annoyance, her deadpan stare met the couple that trekked the living room before her; dressed in boxers and mixed-up t-shirts, her presence barely registered as Shizuo boosted his hold on a sleep deprived Izaya that sprawled over his back with a slack grip on his shoulders.

   “...how am I not shocked?”

#drabble meme #shizaya #izuo #shizuo x izaya #izaya x shizuo #fanfic #orihara izaya #heiwajima shizuo #izaya orihara #shizuo heiwajima #yagiri namie #namie yagiri #duarara fanfic #durarara #drrr!! #drrr #fanfiction #demytasse fanfics

[sugardaddytonystark]

Heart on the Line (part 1)

Masterlist

You and Bucky had your differences in college, but now you need a place to stay and he needs a roommate, and in order to make ends meet, you two start a phone sex line together.  

“For a Good Time, Call...” AU

author: sugardaddytonystark (formerly buckysbackpackbuckle) pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader word count: 1516 warnings: smutty smut smut and dirty talk (future chapters)

Then

(10 years ago)

You’re not boring. You don’t care what anyone says. You’re cool and exciting and spontaneous! If you weren’t, then why would you be at this party? You could be at home, cuddled up in a blanket, watching a movie. You could, and even though that sounds amazing, you’re not.

You could’ve bailed once you saw Bucky, the star of every single one of your fantasies. The boy that you’ve never talked to even though you two have the same best friend and a class together. You could’ve bailed, but you didn’t.

You’re not boring. You’re brave.

And, oh my God, he’s looking at you. No, no, he’s coming over. Be cool. Be cool.

“So,” Bucky says, leaning his back against the same wall you’re holding up. “I think we’re the only two people at this party that aren’t completely shit-faced.” He taps the water bottle in your hand. “Are you someone’s DD or something?”

“No,” you reply. “I’m just –“ boring “—not a heavy drinker.”

“Same here,” he says, taking a drink of his own water.

You watch him, the long line of his throat, the sharp angle of his jaw. He’s – God, he’s even beautiful in profile. You can’t stand it. And when he pulls the bottle back, his pink lips are wet, shining. You could die.

You have to clear your throat before you even try to speak again.

“You’re Steve’s friend, right?” you say, going for casual. Nailing it.

You know he is. You know. You’ve seen them together plenty of times. Walked the other way when you’ve seen them heading towards you on campus. You know, but he doesn’t have to know that you know.

“I’ve seen you around,” you add. “I think you’re in my poli-sci class.”

“I –“ he stops and looks down, a little bashful. Your heart skips a beat. “Yeah, I am in your poli-sci class. I sit about three rows behind you, to the right.”

“Do you have everyone’s seats memorized?” you ask, and you can’t help but smile.

Bucky turns toward you, shoulder pressed against the wall, head tilted and leaning against it too. He’s so tall and he’s so close and he’s looking down at you, baby blue eyes crinkling at the corners as he gives you a little smirk.

“Nope,” he says, “just yours.”

“That is so weird,” you say, more of a tease than a chide.

You have to take a drink of your water to keep from smiling too big. You try your best to hide your goofy grin without choking, and you manage, but your face grows hot when you notice that he’s watching you.

“I know,” he says after a beat. “I can’t help it, though. You are… absolutely beautiful. And I’ve been trying to think of some way to talk to you all semester.”

Your breath catches and your heart starts pounding so hard that you swear Bucky can hear it from where he’s standing. But you don’t care because he’s looking down at his feet now, all shy and adorable, and you realize that, in some miraculous way, he’s just as nervous as you are.

“Oh, I’m Bucky,” he adds, peeking back up at you through his lashes. “I guess I should’ve led with that, huh?”

Yeah, Bucky, the star of your dirtiest dreams. The boy with the beautiful blue eyes and beautiful pink lips and the cleft in his chin and slightly crooked teeth. With the big hands and gangly limbs and wild brown hair.

Bucky, who you’re gonna fuck tonight.

Because you’re not boring. And the moment is too perfect for you to pass up. So you reach out to him, fingers playing with a button on his shirt, pulling him closer by just a fraction of an inch.

“Hi, Bucky,” you say, pitching your voice low. “Do you wanna get out of here?”

His eyes go wide and his cheeks flush red. He pushes off of the wall and straightens up, standing tall. He clears his throat and then says, “Oh! Oh wow, just like that?”

“Yep,” you reply, taking his hand. “Just like that.”

Now

You never thought that you could be so bored with a dick inside of you.

Until you met Brock.

And yeah, Brock’s great. He’s handsome and smart and his family is well-off. He has a good job as an attorney at your fathers’ joint law firm, slated to make partner in less than five years. You two have been together for three and life with him is comfortable and convenient in a reassuring sort of way. Lately, though, you’ve felt a deep gnawing in the pit of your stomach.

Everything feels weird, thrown off. Like Brock is keeping something from you. Is Brock going to propose? Oh my God, is Brock going to propose?? Would you wear a white dress? Would you have vanilla cake or buttercream? Would you invite your crazy Aunt Carol who always makes a scene?

Answer: of course you would.

And that’s what you’re thinking about as Brock pumps into you. And you get what people mean when they say it’s not the size of the boat, but the motion in the ocean. Because Brock’s dick is nice but damn if he knows what to do with it.

“I like these sheets you bought,” he says, thrusting.

“Yeah, they're so soft,” you reply.

He’s up on his palms, not even touching you. Your hands are on him, though, trying to urge him on a little harder, a little deeper. You’re stroking his chest, clutching his back, but it doesn’t seem to be doing anything for him. He just keeps thrusting, thrusting, thrusting…

“What’s the thread count?” he asks.

You sigh. “800.”

Your bra is still on and he has his socks on, too. You can’t remember the last time you were both naked together. You can’t remember the last time that he stripped you of your clothes, touching your body as he undressed you piece by piece.

“You’re so sexy,” he tells you.

“You’re sexy, too,” you say.

“Thanks.”

“Welcome.”

He starts thrusting faster, eyes closed, jaws clenched. You reach down to rub your clit, but your fingertips keep poking his dick, throwing off his rhythm, so you stop. You lay there and let him come. And then, after a few short pumps, he rolls off of you.

“I’m gonna go brush my teeth,” he says after he catches his breath.

You watch him as he picks up his pajama bottoms from the floor and slides them on. He has a nice ass. A nice body. It’s a damn shame that he doesn’t know what to do with it. But you can deal with it, you guess. What’s good sex compared to the big picture? Comfort, security? You could give up a little passion in exchange.

You lay there, alone in bed for a moment, before getting up to join Brock. You pick up his pajama shirt and put it on, fastening just enough buttons to still show your cleavage. Maybe you can coax him into a round two. Maybe you can be on top and ride him and actually come this time.

“So, I forgot to tell you,” Brock says as you walk in to the bathroom. “It looks like I’m going to Italy for the summer.”

“Italy?” you say.

“And therefore, I think it is a good time for us to reevaluate our relationship.”

“Really?” you ask, holding out your left hand for him to hold. You were right, he is going to propose. And you’ll have your white dress and buttercream cake and crazy Aunt Carol.

“Honey, I’m not proposing –“

Or not.

“— I’m evaluating. And after my evaluation, I’ve realized that we’re both ignoring something really obvious here. We always go to the same place for brunch on Sunday, we switched from sour cream to Greek yogurt together, you wear your bra when we’re having sex.”

“What are you saying?” you ask, almost in tears.

“I am saying that we are boring. That I am bored. That I am, like, crazy-out-of-my-mind bored. The most exciting part of the sex that we just had was when my penis was chafed by your NuvaRing.”

You want to yell, to scream. To tell him that you two were not boring, he was boring. You wanted passion. You wanted excitement. You wanted these things and you were willing to give them up for him. And now he is breaking up with you because he can’t be bothered to take your bra off.

“Brock –“ you sniffle, following him back out to your bedroom.

“Let’s just talk when I get back,” he says, sitting down on the bed. You sit down next to him. “We’ll have had some distance and you’ll have moved out of this place –”

“What?” you screech. “This is my home! I’ve lived here for two years!”

Brock looks at you, pats your hand in a condescending way, and says, “I should pack. I’ll just start in the kitchen.”

Despite the tears in your eyes, you give him the dirtiest look you can manage. He looks at you for a second, contemplative, then says, “Honey... you’re sitting on my phone, I think.”

author’s note:

Thank you so much @callingmrsbarnes and @the-witching-hours12-3 for pre-reading! You both helped me out so much!

Things will start getting heated up in the next chapter, I promise. Until then, tell me what you think! Also, I’ve borrowed a lot of dialogue from the movie and I am in no way claiming it as my own. Thanks for reading!

@radmerrmaid @actuallyasgardian @fvckingavengers @bovaria @thecountessakasha @thiddlestoff @mojean13 @aubzylynn @kinqshley @connieisland @evansrogerskitten @re2d2 @justareader @ifoundlove-x0vanessa0x @hymnofthevalkyries @winterwolf57 @sithlordslut @nykitass @emilyinbuffalo @starstar1012 @tardis-is-mine @annadier @avengerofyourheart @bucky2-0 @feelmyroarrrr @lostinspace33 @whatsbetterthanfantas @winter-widoww @ninjacuddlepile @werewolfbuck @mellifluous-melodramas @angelus-808 @sebastianstancanfightme @zombieatemyhead @gansa12 @lenavonschweetz @imadandelion-yourearose @oscar-issaac @audasia25 @buckybarnesbestbabe @thenightmarebeforebucky @mcuimxgine

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes smut #bucky x reader #bucky imagine #dahlia writes stuff #fic heart on the line