Ok but like yandere pretty boys hit diff
Imagine just doing your job and catering to their needs as a manager and you happen to catch their eye. They are used to attracting attention from people because of their looks and their soft personality. They are used to people assuming that they wouldn't hurt a fly and for the most part that's true. But when it comes to you all the kind and gentle by nature stuff gets thrown out the window. He is needy for your attention, hogging you from others who pose a threat. Even if you guys aren't dating he'll treat you like your his. Since most things have been given to him he expects you to fawn over him just the same. He wants you to be just as enamored with him as he is to you so he'll set traps. Lingering touches that leave you confused, setting up times where it can truly be the two of you, and looking down on any potential  suitor. If you don't fall for his charms prepare for your loved ones to be on you actively betraying you by flaunting all the ways he would make a good boyfriend even after you said it would never happen. Now as he abruptly breaks down in front of the WHOLE SCHOOL sobbing, crying real tears that you won't even give him a chance people are giving you so many rude stares and are defending him. After all, he's such a kind soul, you should be lucky he likes you and lucky he ever even looked your way. You'll let him have you correct?
Characters that fit this for me: Akaashi, Sugawara, Himuro, Reo, Kise, Chigiri, Aryu, and maybe Pablo
Love this for me💀
If you want!
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It’s bordering on two weeks since Hargrove’s arrival at Hawkins High, when Steve realizes he’s crushing on the guy. Like—‘doodling hearts in the margins of his books and racking up a list of things he likes about him’ type crushing.
They’ve barely interacted after that night at the party. Outside of social gatherings, they just run in different circles; Steve, filling his time with Robin and occasionally third-wheeling Nancy and Jonathan, while Billy hangs out with the more popular crowd.
Their schedules also don’t overlap despite the blonde taking a number of senior-level classes, with the exception of gym and lunch.
The list though, is still so painstakingly long. Ego-stroking-ly lengthy. Embarrassingly indulgent, all on his behalf.
Steve would much rather nosedive into the quarry, than divulge too deeply into it with anyone.
Especially around or to the guy’s actual face, at the risk of Billy’s head becoming too big for his body (even though Steve thinks he’d make an adorable bobble head). Or you know, worse— like him, getting absolutely brained in front of everyone.
Which must say a lot about him as a person because apparently, this is his type. Beautiful, angry, conceited boys.
Regardless, there are some objective mentions on his list though.
Things that the general public would agree on, like Billy’s Michelle-Pfeiffer curls; loose and wavy but so, so golden.
His eyes are a close second, of course because Steve’s seen a lot of bright blues but Billy’s remind him of the vacation he’d spent in Aruba, as a kid. Remind him of a horizon-kissed vastness and warm water lapping at his ankles on a private beach.
The public also agrees that Billy’s got a banging body. He’s thicker than most because he actually gives a shit and ‘works out religiously’ but it’s not all muscle. His abdomen and thighs are firm but his pecs and ass have the right amount of give. A perfect amount of softness.
Steve would know because he’s had to will away many boners at the sight of them.
And Billy’s funny in a witty, sarcastic way. He grins toosharptooprettytoobright and dangerous. He’s smart too, like taking mostly AP classes smart and he’s smug about it all because he knows he’s hot shit. Of course, the bastard is self aware. Cocky. Steve likes him so much. Wants him so bad that it’s dizzying, sickening.
So yeah, there’s stuff that everyone can agree on but then….then, there’s whatever this is.
This being the two penny-sized indents at the base of Billy’s spine. Symmetrical and just defined enough for average eye to discern.
When Steve sees them for the first time though, he promptly drops the basketball in his hands. In front of everyone. During fucking gym class. Purely out of shock.
He catches himself within the same breath and quickly looks away.
Swallows.
Ignores the pointed look that Patrick sends him for flaking out, mid-pass, like some kind of freak and looks around cooly.
Because Billy Hargrove has dimples of venus.
Affectionately dubbed a sign of beauty by Michelangelo. Famed after the Greek goddess’ simulacrum. Called dimples of Apollo on men, which suits Billy all the more, in Steve’s opinion.
The sun child.
Flushed with life. Deserving of avid worshippers. A being deserving of wax poetic. Glittering, dazzling, vibrant and the Camaro, his chariot.
And he knows this because dimples are like, his freckles. His glasses. His braces. They’re a niche, little thing that he finds just devastating. Achingly cute. Nancy has a pair of them near her laugh lines that he would kiss everyday and prod at, endeared.
So he ambles on through practise a little out of breath and red in the face with his newfound knowledge.
Watches Billy jog over to the locker room with everyone else at the end; skin slick and sweat pooling at the divots of his waistband. Tempting.
He stands back and feigns trying to catch his breath, his hands on his knees. Eyes the younger boy’s retreating form from up through his hair. Imagines hooking his thumbs into the depressions of his flesh.
Relishes in the thought of splaying his hands across the width of his waist.
Feels his mouth go dry and a rush of white heat surging south.
Licks his lips absentmindedly as his cock aches to life and makes the decision to skip the locker room schtick, save anyone realizing he’s sporting a half chub.
Instead, he grabs his backpack and heads out to his car. The parking lot is mostly empty by the time he gets there and devoid of anyone interested in him enough to wave him over. He tosses his stuff into the backseat of the Beemer and speeds off before anyone can catch up to him.
It’s a short drive to his house but he spends it envisioning Billy in all sorts of compromising positions. Thinks about the flush on his skin when he plays and the heat in his eyes— wonders how easily he gives in; loud-mouth turned soft and pliant at the faintest hint of pleasure.
He barely makes it inside before shucking his bag off and stripping himself bare of sweat-sticky clothes. In the same breath, he’s fisting a too damp hand around his cock and hissing at the near painful throb. His only relief comes from the coldness of the door against his back as he slumps against it.
Precum beads at the flushed head and he gathers it all on the upstroke to ease the glide. Squeezes his eyes shut so tightly that honeyed galaxies explode behind the lids and he can’t think.
Can’t think about the consequences of jerking off to someone he sees damn near everyday. Doesn’t care enough to avoid the impending embarrassment.
Why would he? Instead, he thinks of Billy laid out beneath him, all pretty and flushed and glittering; his eyes wet with unshed tears and ruddy lower lip between his teeth as he looks over his shoulder at him. Imagines the roughness of his voice and his muscles all pulled taut as Steve knocks the air out of his lungs with each slam of his cock.
He fucks into the tight ‘o’ of his hand, already so goddamn close and conjures up the image of twin dips. Wants to paint pearlescent white across the bronze expanse of Billy’s back; let it pool where he is favored by the Gods.
The thought has him biting back a moan as he grinds into the slickness of his hold. The heat in his gut expands so greatly, so suddenly, that his hips flex with the intensity of it. Until finally,
it snaps.
Like a star beneath the pressures of gravity; with all the strength and ferocity of a supernova. And he’s spilling all over his hand in a few stiff, jerky thrusts and breathing out a low, garbled “Fuck, Billy— shitshitshit.”
And God, he’s so screwed.
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