thinking about pope cody buying a ghostface mask for a heist. you find it and make him try it on and he looks so delectable wearing it, you can’t help but request he wear it the next time yall sleep together
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.
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.
You know what I want more of? Non-sexual intimacy. In close moments between friends. The “I can’t do this alone”. The “I need help”. The wounds that need bandaged. The “I can’t change my clothes on my own”. The need for help with simple tasks for different reasons. Maybe a recent injury or disability means they don’t know how to shower yet and they need help.
I want that. Write me that. You say that they are as close as family so show me they are as close as family.
Yes, this, but also the "I don't want to be alone tonight" and the "you are a part of my life" cuddles and the "I am so happy you are here with me" long hugs.
