I never got to finish this show for various reasons including but not limited to my lack of interest in either of the fairly boring male protagonists however I do like this brown boy very much
No I don't think he deserves the girl nicknamed after stomach fat actually I think he should be gifted a sweet person intrigued by his ramblings and interest in the ocean
you held him once he dropped, hands clinging and trembling during the whole night of stress and adrenaline, cooing softly to him as your eyes get stung with tears because you thought it was fatal. but his heartbeat was there, unnervingly slow. he passed out after taking too much, trying to numb down the fear of being chased down by local authorities, and he stayed like that the whole night as you held him on the floor.
such a heavy burden to have a life in your arms and a man you've gotten to know like the back of your palm. but he was breathing, slow tired and utterly worn down from the life outside of his trailer.
you fell asleep too, eventually, after wrestling with his number body to put him up in the bed. he began snoring after you hugged him.
both of you woke up stiff and uncomfortable, barry hadn't really been able to register everything around him for good few hours and it let you shower and simply have a moment for yourself as he was laying on his back and staring at the wooden ceiling contemplating and processing whatever happened last night.
last night was supposed to be like usual, taking a joint, then a pill, then maybe a line or two. but he'd been drinking, hiding the whole day from cops which were almost literally his brothers in arms a year or two ago. but it didn't matter, orders were orders and personal opinions were a liability.
drifting in and out of sleep, he was fighting for the little pieces of his conscious that made him who he is.
after he came down from it, he moved slowly, heading to the bathroom, in desperate need for a good dump and piss after passing out for so long.
he had finished rather quick, but it was unusually slow for him, as he watched behind the blurry curtain hiding the sight of you showering and humming the rhythm of a song that stuck from yesterday, before he pushed it too far.
he swallowed hard as he cleaned himself up, seeing his tip leak traitorously as you continued on showering, unbothered by him. he decided he was too fucked up that morning to do anything, having almost lost his life to be acting like nothing had happened, sex should be the last thing on his mind. especially after what he made yoh go through.
he pulled his boxers up and leaned over the sink, splashing cold water in his face as he lazily brushed his teeth, then rinsed and padded back to the bedroom.
he laid down again, sighing as he tries to get himself back together, still dizzy from getting up.
but then he spots you, in his shirt, a towel wrapped low and loose around your waist. his dripping tip spasms as you bend over to grab clean boxers from his lowest drawer.
Barry's hand lazily covers his bulge, almost reflexively. he's slowly pumping himself at the sight of your bare ass before you slip it into his boxers, skin damp and soft in the fuzzy light of the dimmed sun prodding through old curtains.
once they snap in place against your skin, you turn around, stopping in place as you watch him.
"seriously? after almost ODing on me last night?" your voice unimpressed, knowing that this man survives on spite and irony. but your heart doesnt have logic, pumping blood south before you even realise.
"what, it's your fault for looking like that." he smirks, golden tooth flashing dangerously in the afternoon light.
"like what?"
"like my wettest dream come true."
"oh. poetic."
"drugs do that to you." he said, head perched up as he keeps looking at your tits
"didn't know." you reply, throwing yourself on the bed carelessly, pressing up to his side "so, beside the obvious, you feel alright?" your tone tickling his ear, making him squeeze his shaft harder as his hand comes down on it.
"like resurrected." he breathes "you're teasing me, pretty."
"im not. you're doing it yourself." your teeth scrape the shell of his ear and he exhales a long breath
"gotta stop doing that."
"no." you smirk, hand wrapping around his as your stroke him with his own fingers "you're such a freak." you whisper
"...stop." he grins, his ears reddening and his hips buck. "fuck. don't stop." he corrects himself, the drawl in his tone gone.
"you filthy fuck."
it doesn't really suprise you at this point, the way he's quick to forget everything when he can, when he has the chance to. he removes his hand from the girth of his cock, tugging his shorts down to let you stroke it raw. and you do, just not like he wants you to.
you focus solely on the glands of his tip, making him whine and gasp as his hand sneaks under you and grabs your thigh. "pretty, please. cmon, don't tease a man after near death." he pleads, pupils having yet to be retracted to their usual size. but he looks dreamy, like he's never been grazed by death or a bad day. just too aroused by the sight of you alone. makes you realise that he's been always this dreamy, you just never saw him in daylight, sweating cold bullets, begging for more.
you're soaking through his boxers at the sound of his moans, and he stopped trying to writhe away when you hooked your leg over both his thighs to keep him there. it lasted short, the hand job.
you shift, straddling his hips, and the shorts that ate pulled just below his shaft. you don't have to ask, he's pulling you down on him already, letting out a pathetic moan when he feels the way you've soaked through the underwear. his hands sliding down to grapple your glutes as he grinds up.
"fuck. daddy's home." he smirks as you lean forward to hold onto his shoulders, grinding your soppy cunt right om him. his hands shift again, restless, useful but useless if he doesn't know what to do with them. his hands graze the front of your hipbone, propping the leaky tip at an angle so you feel him better aswell and he gets more force from friction aswell.
"daddy's home." you repeat, grinning, pressing your forehead to his temple, hips restless as you fasten your pace, making the old bedframe creak and wail under the stress of the two of you.
"take em off. I wanna feel you around me." He's pouting, playful little shit has the audacity to pull you down to his chest and kiss your neck as he hooks his thumbs at the rim of his boxers and peels them off you, not bothering pulling them off completely, but just to have access to your leaky folds. he pushed his tip between warm, soaked, and absolutely addictive folds of your pussy.
"y'feel me now?" you'd whisper, squeezing your thighs after moving both your legs between his spread ones.
"fuck, baby, i do." barry rasped, gripping your ass as he thrusts between your folds and thighs messily, biting your shoulder "feel all of you. don't let go of me."
he was impatient, already on the brink, so he grabs your waist, and flips you over, mouth warm against your own. he was kissing you.
his lips against your own as he grips your throat, not squeezing, not exactly, but making sure that you stay, that you're present. the rule about no kissing directly evaporated the moment your lips touched.
stupid rule, stopping him from feeling your mouth and tongue against his.
and you'd been hoping he would do this. you'd been waiting for the moment he just takes it, takes the chance and kisses you. if he fucked you raw and he couldn't kiss you after, what was even the point?
"can I?" Barry's voice rings out through the room , tip nudging against your entrance.
"maybe not today." you'd say, kissing him again. "please." the word just a breath drom your lips.
not everyone got to reject and deny things from barry, but you've never been just anyone to him. you've been the girl who saw him at his best, at his worst, girl who always came in after knocking first then claimed it was manners. the first time youve ever stepped inside was the night he saw other men leer at you, and it made you want to smoke a joint. you did it in his arms though, after crying.
you could break his heart in half and he'd give you the pieces again.
"yeah, okay." he leans down to bury his face in your neck "my bad." he sighs, hips still aligned with yours, but his cock is now snug right on your puffy clit.
"it's fine." you sigh, gripping his waist "it happens." your head falling back as he nips your neck, squeezing your hips as he starts to grind his tip through your wetness.
"got you, mamas." he grunts.
it's domestic, almost, the way he might be the worst person in kildare, but he fucks like an angel. heavenly. you've expected him to be rough, to be into sadistic kinks, but that almost never happened. except when you were a spoiled brat.
but you're getting this version of him that nobody could reach, nobody could keep but you.
he's pawing at your hips, biting your face, jaw, neck, shoulders. he's moaning your name, whiny and desperate. it makes you forget last night, letting it go just to embrace the feel of him. he's vocal now, more than usual, breathy grunts and pathetic whines leaving his mouth every time he ruts into you.
you're mewling, nails clawing at his back and leaving thick bright red scratches. the sensation you forgot about completely cuts you from flowing away in your thoughts, he's sucking on your nipples, causing a wail and a writhe from you "bear..!" but you're not pushing him away, never that. instead your hand latches onto the back of his head, handful of curls as you squeeze, his rumble vibrating through your breast and piercing right in your chest, making you let out a surprised gasp.
"louder, baby." he demands, teeth buried in the line of your jugular, "squirt for me, pretty."
"bear!" you wailed, pussy squelching over his spasming girth as he keeps ramming his hips to your cunny, making you ride out your orgasm.
he huffed as you finished, gripping his tip as he strokes himself in impatience. he throws his head back, chest glistening under weak lamplight beside the bed, cumming on your clit and folds before collapsing ontop of you.
you're still catching air beneath him, squeezing his torso as you hold him. and this time he stays there, unmoving and basking in the feel of your warmth.
🍃 ⊹ᡣ𐭩₊⋆ ─── getting high and making out with barry
you huffed, making your way back to your bedroom as loud music pounded in your ears and practically shook the floor underneath your feet. you had tried to get your brother to turn it down at least a little, but he was drunk and probably high out of his mind—as he usually was when he threw these stupid parties—so your words had gotten you nowhere.
you should've known you wouldn't get a moment's peace when your parents announced their anniversary trip, leaving you and your brother in your big house on figure eight all alone for a week.
where your brother was always throwing or attending some big blowout, trying to impress his asshole friends and any girls that would look in his direction, you much preferred solitude. you liked spending your time in your room alone, bingewatching cheesy romcoms, gruesome horror movies, and any and all procedural dramas you could get your hands on.
even you could admit that it was a little pathetic, living life as a glorified recluse that had never even had her first kiss at the ripe age of eighteen, but sometimes, you preferred it that way. though, sometimes, when you were really getting into your own head, you found yourself lonely and craving adventure—not that you would ever go out and seek it.
"oh," a noise of surprise fell from your lips, your body reacting with a small jolt as you re-entered your room and saw a boy sporting a buzzcut, probably a few years older than you, smoking a joint on your bed.
The boy took a long drag, exhaling the smoke slowly as his deep brown eyes slowly raked over your figure, a smirk playing on his lips. "shiiiit, sorry," he laughed. "this your room?"
of course, it was just your luck that a handsome—and way totally stoned—boy would have stumbled into your bedroom during the five minutes you had abandoned it to go argue with your stupid brother.
"uh, yeah," you nodded, eyeing him warily as you hesitantly closed the door behind you to drown out the sounds of the party downstairs that had carried.
he hummed at your answer, nodding as he took another hit. "you mind if i hang out?" he asked casually, as if he wasn't a strange man in your bedroom, which you suddenly felt very uncomfortable in as you realized a man had never been in your room before. the room practically screamed lonely loser virgin with the way your stuffed animals were propped up on the pillows neatly.
"i guess not," you shrugged, your cheeks turning warm as you tore your eyes away from his piercing gaze, looking down at the fluffy pink carpet at your feet. you should have asked him to leave, but you didn't, instead allowing him to continue occupying your space.
he grinned, patting the space beside him on the bed. "come here," he beckoned, his voice low and smooth, almost hypnotic. "no need to be shy, princess. i don't bite...unless you're into that."
your teeth caught your lip, nibbling slightly as you considered his words. it probably wasn't the safest idea to sit next to a stranger on your bed with no one else around, but he seemed nice enough. either way, your body seemed to react before your brain could catch up and decide better of it, carrying you over to him and sitting on the edge of your bed beside him.
you looked over at him nervously, your fingers dancing over the stitching of your pink quilt, carefully plucking at it—a nasty habit you had that was slowly pulling the string out.
"you're so jumpy," he noted, his brown eyes following your movements with interest—his pupils dilated from the weed. "and quiet, like a little church mouse," he grinned, clearly teasing you as he took another drag and slowly blew the smoke into your direction. "you got a name, church mouse?"
you coughed a little, waving the smoke away as he blew it at you. his eyes bored into yours expectantly, willing you to give him an answer, and you did, quietly telling him your name.
he repeated your name slowly, letting it roll off his tongue, as if tasting it. "pretty name for a pretty girl," he said smoothly, his eyes never leaving yours as he shifted a bit closer, his thigh brushing against yours and making your breath hitch. "name's barry," he introduced himself.
you felt a little silly that something as small as eye contact and his leg brushing yours was having such a big effect on you, making your heart race in your chest as your eyes widened a fraction, but everything about this moment felt so surreal—like something straight out of those cheesy romcoms you loved so much.
he smirked, noticing your quickened breath and wide eyes, clearly enjoying the effect he was having on you. "relax, princess," he urged, offering the joint to you. "maybe some of this will help mellow your ass out."
"i don't smoke," you said, eyeing it warily. truthfully, you should've said 'i've never smoked' in the name of honesty. you'd be lying if you said you weren't atleast a little curious, but you'd always been too afraid.
"oh, come on," he coaxed, his tone softening as he held it out to you again. "just one hit. it'll help you chill out," he explained, seeming to know the exact right things to say as he patted your thigh comfortingly. "i promise it won't hurt you. i mean, it's not like i'm offering you meth or nothin'."
you bit the inside of your cheek nervously, contemplating his words. it wouldn't be so bad if you just did a little, right? besides, you couldn't live your whole life so sheltered and afraid. reluctantly, you reached out and took the joint between your fingers, your gaze darting apprehensively over to him.
"atta girl," he praised you, his voice low and encouraging as you guided the joint up to your lips. "inhale slowly," he instructed, his eyes locked onto your parted lips. you nodded, carefully placing it between your lips and sucking in. "hold it," he told you, licking his lips subconsciously as he watched you carefully. "there you go," he cooed, his thumb rubbing soothing circles on your thigh as he watched your brows furrow in your attempts to hold the smoke in your lungs.
your inexperience was apparent when you exhaled, breaking out into a coughing fit that had your cheeks blazing with embarrassment.
he chuckled softly, rubbing your back as you coughed. "it's alright, princess, you did good," he reassured you, taking the joint back and taking a long drag himself before exhaling slowly, the smoke curling around his face. "you'll get the hang of it."
"thanks," you said softly, your stomach feeling all fluttery at how nice the boy was. you grinned after a beat of silence, feeling a little less shy and a lot more happy as your body buzzed, clearly affected by the small amount of drugs you'd ingested—it was just your luck that you were a total lightweight.
"see? i told you you'd mellow out," he said with a soft laugh, his arm wrapping loosely around your shoulders as he pulled you in a little closer to him.
"uh huh," you giggled softly, looking up at him. your eyes widened a fraction as you realized just how close your faces suddenly were, his warm breath fanning over your face as he smirked down at you.
he licked his lips slowly as he gazed down at you, his hand moving to gently cup your cheek. "you're pretty, you know that?" he murmured, his thumb brushing over your bottom lip. "real pretty."
"thanks," you breathed out, looking up at him. you'd never kissed anyone before, and in any other situation, the rational side of your brain would probably be screaming at you to pull away, but he was awfully pretty and the way he was staring at you had your heart skipping a beat.
"you gonna let me kiss you, princess?" he hummed, his gaze locked on your lips as his thumb gently pressed down on your bottom lip, making you part your lips slightly.
you stared up at him, as if you were in a trance. your mind was slightly foggy, and all you could focus on was his hands on your skin as you nodded. you really, really wanted him to kiss you.
his eyes crinkled at the corners as he smiled, and then, ever so slowly, he leaned in. his hand slid from your cheek down to the back of your head, his fingers tangling in your hair as he angled your head back gently. your eyes fluttered closed as his lips brushed against yours, so soft and warm. you leaned into him, letting him set the pace and following his lead as your hand curled into the fabric of his t-shirt.
he kissed you slowly, savoring the taste of your lips. his other hand slid down to the small of your back, pulling you closer as his tongue teased the seam of your lips, asking for entrance. you weren't quite sure what came over you, but you craved feeling more of him, tasting more of him, so you parted your lips, letting his tongue slip into your mouth and slot against yours.
he groaned lowly as your tongue tentatively slid against his own, deepening the kiss. his hand on your back slipped under the hem of your top, his fingertips brushing against the bare skin of your lower back. you hummed into his mouth, grip on his shirt tightening as you tried pulling him impossibly closer. the feeling of his warm hands on your bare skin had your head spinning.
when he finally pulled back, you were both breathing hard, and he smirked at your dazed expression. "we should stop," he murmured, his voice tight with barely-contained self control.
"right, yeah," you nodded, your body alight with desire, but as much as you wanted to, it probably wasn't in your best interest to lose your virginity to a man you'd just met. doing drugs and having your first kiss slash makeout session seemed like enough adventure for one day.
his heated gaze never left yours. "alright then," he said, his voice still rough. "we'll, uh, we'll finish this later, yeah?" he asked, his hand still resting on the small of your back.
you giggled at his phrasing, your stomach doing flips at the thought of seeing him again and the idea that he wanted to see you again too. "i'd like that," you smiled softly, nodding.
he grinned wolfishly, standing to his feet, your eyes following his movements closely as he headed to the door. "i'll see you around, princess," he winked, opening your bedroom door and allowing the sounds of the party going on downstairs—which had completely slipped your mind amidst everything that had just happened—to fill the room.
"yeah, see you around, barry," you nodded, your mind still reeling as you watched him leave and close the door behind him. a wide, stupid grin broke out on your face as you fell backwards on your bed, squealing excitedly to yourself.
You’re sitting cross-legged on the couch, laptop balanced on your thighs, while Barry nurses a Gatorade and watches you with mild suspicion.
“Okay,” you read aloud, “‘Which condiment are you based on your vibe?’ First question: Pick a Friday night plan.”
“What’s the least people-y option?” Barry mutters.
You scan the choices. “Raging house party, movie night with friends, solo hike, sleep, or cry in the shower.”
Barry stares at you, deadpan. “...cry in the shower sounds about right.”
“Bold of you to admit,” you say, clicking the answer. “Now, choose a pet.”
“Dog,” Barry answers immediately.
“Easy. But the options are: cat, teacup pig, tarantula, hawk, and nothing lives in my home.”
Barry blinks. “...Jesus. Okay. I guess hawk?”
“Hawk?? You?” you ask, side-eyeing him.
“They’re solitary. And they rip stuff apart,” Barry says simply.
“Cool cool cool. Very emotionally stable choice.” You scroll. “Okay, pick a color that speaks to your soul.”
“What?” Barry asks.
“Blue, red, grey, mustard yellow, or void black.”
Barry hesitates. “...Is grey sad?”
“Not necessarily. Just… Barry,” you tease.
“Grey, then. It’s neutral.”
“Grey it is, my little dove.” You type it in. “Next question: How do your enemies describe you?”
“Why do I have enemies?” Barry frowns.
“Because this is BuzzFeed, babe. Everyone has enemies. Choices are cold and calculating, annoyingly hot, mysterious and quiet, suspiciously normal, or deeply unwell.”
Barry exhales. “...Deeply unwell.”
You slap his leg. “Aww. Self-awareness! Love that. Aaaaand... okay, result’s in.”
“Hit me,” he says.
“You are... mayonnaise.”
Barry stares. “What?”
“You’re dependable, slightly unsettling if overused, and people either love you or think you’re disgusting,” you announce.
“That is brutal.”
“It’s also weirdly accurate.” You grin. “Wanna do ‘Which Muppet embodies your trauma’ next?”
Barry groans, setting down the Gatorade. “I’m going back to bed.”
“Cool. I’ll do you as a puppet,” you call after him.
dededos
kianamaiart
andulkaphoto
tangentwithtanner
annaxmalina
stormborns
turnnoffyourmind
pixelskylines
