#wiping sweat emoji

[sierra6x]

------HE TOOK PERSONAL satisfaction that the time between her question and his answer did little to deter her. almost like a proud authoritative figure, minus the responsibility and relationship there. it did little to wipe the smug, tired smirk from his lips while her own moment of silence passed over the room. this was their back-and-forth, always ... even at the killer queen, where it was less tense by the nature of more people being present and it being a public space. it was easy to cut that sort of tension where work was involved, too.

six did not mix business with pleasure. ever.

so, what was this?

he pushed away the need to identify this particular brand of ache, the way is pounded against his ribs with every beat of his heart. he was good at ignoring it, pushing beyond it to continue their witty banter or easier when he flipped the switch to work and could drown out everything else that existed. the problem was ... she'd started to creep into those moments, too. only when he visited - the fact that he'd stopped by on his way back from one job to check in on claire just to make sure she was alright (and happy he did it, else she wouldn't have asked him to handle such delicate things for her.)

it was hard to deny those things, those feelings and thoughts when she presented them directly in his face. and six was not the kind of man who turned and ran, not from anything. training forbade it. stubborn nature forbade it. he couldn't live with himself if he ever became that person. so he faced it head on. and right now, in the dark where only the outline of his lips lost against freshly-kept facial hair and the tone of his voice could give away what he was feeling in that exact moment.

rare for him. people always had to guess. not now.

" i've been told that before. " less polite variations of it, though arguably her own was on par. her laughter was contagious and his own shoulders subtly shifted with silent chuckles in her chorus. the only tell there was the staccato rise and fall of his chest, the way his hand bobbed up and down in time with it from where it rest on his stomach - the drumming ceased almost immediately after he'd started it.

when she shifted and began unfurling, insisting her form onto the couch he was pliable ---leg dumping over the side of the couch and only not making a sound for how he'd tensed his thigh to catch it, instead letting his bare foot touch the carpeting and rest flat there. he wasn't foolish enough to think she'd only settle for a little space between him and the back of the sofa, and while he didn't outright move to make as much space as he could he did conform to where she'd begun draping herself over him. in lieu of a blanket there was melissa and, if they moved just right, the edge of his now mostly-dry towel hanging off of the back of the couch.

the new temperature brought by a whole other person was welcome and very different, though not a totally unfamiliar sensation. body heat fought with the cool feel of her damp hair when the air of her movement washed over him. it'd been a very long time since six was this close with someone who wasn't actively trying to kill him. the smile didn't die but faded with the shift in tone - where it didn't totally become serious but this round of their little game had taken a turn where the power shifted into melissa's hand entirely. he'd dared her.

she hadn't disappointed. and she wasn't done yet.

god, she was warm. soft, too. rough fingers, calloused hand almost that nearly swallowed her own significantly smaller and more lithe one lingered for just a moment in her touch before she directed it somewhere with different purpose. he hadn't blinked, not for a long moment with how steadily he watched the expression on her now very visible face (dark or not.) a study in the shape of her lips as she spoke, the way each word looked and lingered, the flavor of them on her tongue (as if it were a tangible, visible thing) and the way her own dark eyes somehow collected whatever light filtered through the room behind them. she smelled like the same soap he'd used, the same shampoo and conditioner, but it was somehow decidedly more feminine and appealing.

oh, he heard the shift in her breathing, felt the racing of her heart both through the steady drum of it and where blood coursed through her flesh. sure, she'd placed his hand in such a daring place, but his palm had greedily met the delicate flesh there all its own, fingers splaying against the heat and drinking it in. the contrast was dizzying (never mind the undertones) between how soft and flawless it felt versus the roughness of his hand.

he'd never have guessed the night would have lingered anywhere near this place when the sun fell below the horizon line, when she knocked on his door. not when, in less than a scarily minimal amount of hours, they'd be stirring through the safe-house and cleaning up after themselves so they could collect her things from her own home and catch an impromptu plane down south. in less than 24 hours edgar drysdell would be dead.

but that didn't matter right now.

when six exhaled it was a harsher sound than intended, maybe a little ragged as if he'd held his breath for too long and it needed to burn its way out of lungs. fingers trailed, shifted against the inside hem of her underwear, thumb drew a lazy little back-and-forth pattern - something like easing the tension from her without actively thinking to, while he chewed his thoughts. he even worked his jaw in slight, muscle tensing in the way it tended to when men were either angry or just grit their teeth too hard. he wasn't angry.

" i could. " his voice still had a sleepy rasp to it, though it wouldn't take this close proximity to tell how alert he was in the moment - very awake, even if he'd been literally catnapping not ten minutes ago. " but i'd rather you tell me. " he shifted, just his arm, just his hand as it ceased tracing that line with his thumb as he pulled away from the warmth of her thigh where his index and middle fingers grazed against the fabric of her underwear, where the gusset was sewn in, pointedly.

the hand trailed up to her hip, fingers found purchase at the round where it met her waist, and settled there. his grip was maybe a bit harder than necessary, purposeful in what it meant ---a wordless stay here, do what i want where he didn't quite direct it. she fit quite perfectly over his own hips - and finally the other raised from where it was lingering over the edge of the couch, where it had been grazing carpet and ready to snatch the pistol beneath them should anyone unwanted come in. it traveled up to brush strands of damp, heavy hair from between them ---to gather the mass of it behind her and neatly leave it at the center of her back.

which had him so close to her that he could taste the lingering flavor of the wrigley's he'd given her closer to an hour ago, though it was surely faded now. if she spoke he'd feel her lips move against his, and when he did speak he felt the scratch of his goatee prickle at the skin of her cheek and the corner of her tiers. " you should tell me, melissa. i want to hear it. "

The time taken by Six to reply did nothing to Melissa - she stood there, as motionless as a statue, waiting for his reaction. In a way, she was used to his peculiar conversation techniques (although the darkness put her to a disadvantage when eyesight was compromised; learning to read the man through other senses still required some training). But the grin in his first sentence had been unmissable, and it felt like it lingered when he finally allowed his voice to echo in the room again.

The fucking bastard.

But where the former government asset was more of a silent type, Melissa didn't resort to it as much - his words and newer taunts had her outright laughing, throwing her head back for a second and letting the amusement shake her figure freely. That cheeky man - the barmaid had half a mind to strangle him for his incessant need to poke the proverbial bear with the shortest stick available, almost as if he hoped to see her going off the rails. As if the enjoyed placing himself on the receiving end of whatever Melissa wished to give him - punishment or not.

"You're a fucking piece of work, Six," Melissa uttered back, but there was a playful ring to her words, a leftover from the laughter. The words were harsh, but the sentiment wasn't (hadn't it always been like that?). The brunette moved then, eyes significantly used to the room to see enough, her own feet placed at the edge of the couch and next to one of the man's legs. Melissa stretched herself, the right foot moving to make room for her, forcing that folded limb of his over the edge of the furniture so there was decent space for her to slid there instead, landing on both knees and keeping a head over the backrest for balance.

Once the barmaid was successful - she crawled over, moving over him. Given the limited light sources, it was more like a large shadow covering him, made worse by the way the loose fabric of the borrowed shirt and her long, damp hair (seemingly longer than usual) fell over the sides of her face and body. Melissa's left hand was over the back of the couch, the right one finding free patches around the man's taller and sturdier figure was located.

Had she lost sleep over him before? More times than she could count, in fact; Melissa had wondered about the safety of particular assignments solely based on the info he had requested, or whatever trouble he had been dragged into going by the whispers of third parties. The woman had tried not to pry whenever a new scar appeared on skin that was visible to her, or when he look so tired that it surprised Melissa he didn't pass out at her counter (Six was one of the few patrons she had who actually liked the coffee they served).

And when it was finally the tipster that needed someone for a personal reason, there had been no doubt in Melissa's mind that Six was the only one for it - the single person she could trust; not the police or the authorities or the press. That acknowledgement - the exposure of her own proverbial ugly scars, the reflection in his - brought them closer, but at the same time it felt like the man was trying to place her at some secure distance.

As if the barmaid was about to be disgusted by some finding, or scared to see shit going down. And honestly - that bothered Melissa more than the notion that she had, in fact, been kept awake before while her brain dwelled on whatever Six was doing and, worse of it all, how he was feeling.

"Why don't you find it out yourself?" the woman countered, words carrying a daring edge that was completely unnecessary given her overall position - no one crawled over another unless they were trying to make a point or to threaten them (Six was free to choose which was which). In all honesty, when she had left the bedroom, Melissa had not planned to to whatever she was doing - perhaps her partner did get too easily in her head, a privilege afforded to very few.

(Just the favorite one, really.)

But her emotions were all mixing into a single complex, turbulent thing and the brunette didn't care much to break them apart now and label each and every one carefully. Her right hand found one of his - dragging it from where it rested over his stomach and placing it against the inside of her opposite leg, coarse digits splayed over warm skin.

"You're the professional here - try and read me. Make an educated guess as to the reason I may have stared at the ceiling before," she dared him now, not outright admitting to anything but the way her voice lowered and how her breathing quickened were big tells; her heart seemed to be wild, the tension channeled to a single organ that now was in charge of pumping blood furiously through her veins as if something drastic was about to happen.

A fight or an escape - adrenaline working in her body in a way it did in most animals, purely driven by instinct... But Melissa had a preference and Six probably knew which one of the routes she was more likely to take.

[hazbinshusk]

huskerdust x gn!reader. after a particularly rough day recruiting for the hotel, you limp back to your room to find your two favourite boys waiting for you. anon request. 1.7k

featuring: some blood, physical hurt/comfort, cuddles. really, it's just pure fluff.

Hell can seriously suck a dick sometimes.

You shove the door to the Hotel open with tired arms, for once actually finding yourself wishing that the wall had once again been blown up, if it meant less effort getting home. Charlie had had you pounding pavement all day, trying and failing to enlist new guests to the hotel. Even after the failed extermination, most of the sinners in Pride were less than welcoming to the idea of improving themselves. You spent half the day being told to fuck off and having doors slammed in your face, and the other half actively avoiding being the victim of some asshole’s wrath or lust.

You wipe sweat and ash from your brow with the brow with a sleeve, pausing by the bar to take the weight of your knee. You’d managed to trip while trying to escape a sudden firefight in the Doomsday District, and every step back to the hotel had sent pain shooting up your leg. Your pants were torn and blood has dried in itchy streaks down your calf.

The bartender is nowhere in sight, and you fish your phone out of your pocket to text Angel, sighing when you notice the screen now has a crack spiderwebbing up from the corner of it. Still, a small smile twitches at your lips briefly when you notice he texted you an hour earlier. It’s short and sweet, and your smile widens tiredly.

It was a habit the two of you had picked up since you’d fallen into this relationship with him and Husk; when two of you had turned in for the night, one of you would text to let their other partner know which room they had ended up in. Usually, it was you texting Angel when a shoot ran long, but it had been a rare day off for the porn star and apparently the lack of clientele had meant Husk had been able to clock off early, too.

The lack of a cat emoji said they were spending quality time with Fat Nuggets in Angel’s room, and you thanked Lucifer silently that he’d installed an elevator during the remodel.

You sigh at the idea of having to keep moving rather than just collapsing onto the nearest horizontal surface, limping around the bar to wrap a handful of ice in a towel before making your way to the elevator.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

“Hey, gorgeous, ‘bout time you got—” Angel sits up from where he was lounging across his bed, concern creasing his brow as he takes in your dishevelled appearance. The sudden movement unsettles the two curled up on top of him – while Fat Nuggets snuffles in a mix of both protest and greeting as he waddles across the comforter, Husk looks up with a quiet ‘mrrp?’. He had been stretched out alongside Angel, his arms wrapped around the spider’s midsection and his chin resting against his chest. Angel’s hand still lingers where it had been stroking through the fur between the bartender’s ears, and you feel a small pang of regret for interrupting the tableau. “What in the fuck happened to you?”

“Hell happened,” you reply dryly, wincing as you put a little too much pressure on your knee. Husk blinks sleep out of his eyes and his expression immediately becomes marred with worry. He pushes himself up of Angel just as you move to collapse onto the stool in front of Angel’s vanity, ignoring the ache that protests in the small of his back as he comes to your side. You grimace as you stretch out your leg in front of you, and Angel rolls over to fish the first aid kit out from under his bed. “I’m fine.”

“You’re bleeding,” Husk points out gruffly, kneeling beside you. He carefully hooks a claw in the tear in your pants and tears it wider, his brow furrowing further as he reveals the dried blood staining your calf.

“Am I?” you say, sarcasm weak. “I hadn’t noticed.”

Husk fixes you with a dry, exasperated look from under his feather brows as Angel joins the two of you. “Who did it?”

“No one.” You hiss as Angel begins to clean you up, the saline stinging at the abrasion on your knee.

A low growl rumbles warningly through Husk. “Doll…”

You reach out, cupping his face in your hand. You stroke your thumb through the fur of his cheek soothingly. His frown doesn’t ease, but his eyes close for a moment at the touch. “I’m serious. I fell, that’s all.”

“Jesus, toots.” Angel says through an exhale, carefully scrubbing away the blood streaked over your calf. His other hands rummage through the kit for disinfectant and a bandage. “Was it down a flight of stairs by any chance?”

You shake your head, smirking lightly. “Doomsday District; the ground there is like, ninety percent broken glass. Pretty sure I got it all out.”

“The Princess shouldn’t be sendin’ you out there alone,” Husk grumbles, using a piece of saline-soaked gauze to wipe away the remaining ash on your face. You wrinkle your nose as the material tickles at your nose. “It ain’t your job to—”

“Husk, I’m fine.” you assure him. You lean forward to press a kiss to his nose, and Husk’s shoulders rise and fall with a sigh. “I’m home.”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

“Better?”

You smile, running your fingers rhythmically through Angel’s hair. “Much.”

The three of you are curled up on Angel’s bed, ice melting against your knee and all three of you cradled amongst his many, many pillows and blankets. Husk is propped up against the pillows by the headboard, his arm wrapped securely around your shoulders. You’re tucked up against him, your shoulder against his chest, and your face tilted up to tuck up against his jaw. His purring vibrates through his back, but some of his earlier frustration still lingers in the twitching of his tail. His lips brush against your forehead gently.

Angel is curled up against your side, his head on your chest and two arms wrapped around you. Another reaches up to stroke through the fur of Husk’s side, the fourth resting on the back of the little hell-piglet curled in a ball on Husk’s thigh beside your hip. His legs are bent to tuck up under yours, hooking your knees over his thighs to keep your injury elevated. Every part of you seems to be pressed against soft, soft fur, and you arch your neck further to press your lips to the underside of Husk’s jaw. His purring grows louder.

“Plus side?” Angel comments, looking up at the two of you without raising his cheek from your chest. “Charlie is gonna feel so bad ‘bout sendin’ ya out there—”

“She fuckin’ should,” Husk interjects in a grumble. You sooth him by reaching down to card fingers through his fur, and when your fingers find Angel’s hand, the spider entangles them with his and squeezes. He might be talking more lightly about your current state than Husk, but you knew he was worried, too. You squeeze it back.

“—that there is no way ya gonna be on recruitment duty for, like, a month.” Angel continues. “Ya can jus’ live the high life here. Ya milk that knee jus’ right an’ she probably won’t even make ya go to group. Lucky bitch.”

You hum a laugh, shivering at the way Husk’s claws skim pleasantly against the bare skin of your arm. “And does this ‘high life’ by any chance involve some serious naked time?”

Angel giggles, reaching releasing your waist to reach down and run teasing fingers over the front of Husk’s pants. “Depends. Think the old man here can keep up?”

Husk swats his hand away, and you catch the amused smile that touches his lips for a moment before he remembers to scowl. “Never heard you complain.”

“Maybe you should turn your hearing aid up,” Angel suggests tauntingly, and you choke on a laugh when Husk reaches over you and shoves him off the bed. “Hey! Ow!”

Husk grins, winking at you as Angel stands, all four hands on his hips and a pout on his face. Careful not to jostle you, Husk leans over and grabs a hold of the front of the spider’s shirt, pulling him down into a kiss. Angel wraps two arms around his neck, the other two smoothing over the bartender’s chest. He finds a nipple and pinches, hard, and Husk breaks away with a surprised growl.

“Fuck!”

“Hey!” you object as the movement jostles you further. You rescue Nuggets from the fray, setting him down on the end of the bed. “Watch the invalid, would you? Some of us are injured here!”

Husk immediately stops, his expression apologetic. He catches your cheek, dusting kisses over your face before he presses his lips to yours. You hum happily, feel Angel climb into the bed beside you. He curls up behind you, pressing himself up against your back. Husk kisses you for a few moments more before he pulls away, touching his lips to the skin between your brows. “Sorry, doll.”

“He’s a goddamn brute,” Angel says, tucking his head over your shoulder. “You should totally kick his ass.”

You giggle, and Husk silences him by kissing him again. When they break apart, Husk pulls you into his chest, wrapping an arm around you. His wing curves to cover the three of you, and you bury your face contentedly in the soft fur of his chest.

[rinkkuma]

୨୧ BF SATORU

ft. satoru gojo

tags. gn!reader, a bit of cussing, all fluff ! / author's note. IHATEHIMIHATEHIMIHATEHIMIHATEHIMIHATEHIMIHATEHIMIHATEHIMIHATEHIM!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! (i've actually been going insane because of how much he's taking up my mind) first post of 2024 had to be my one and only of course :3

uses you as an arm rest even if you're a tiny bit shorter than him. (satoru is 6'3 / 190cm for reference) if you're really short though, he has to lean down more and he's standing like the leaning tower of pisa, so he looks silly.

FACE CARD. he's actually the most majestic, gorgeous, beautiful man alive. up close, far away, from the left, from the right, above, below, he looks so fucking good. don't even get me started on when he has his glasses on.

satoru has a million gazillion of those skincare headbands with ears. he has a few cat ones, a hello kitty one, a kuromi one, and many many more. he even has a whole drawer dedicated to the headbands. (that is very close to overloading) he looks super duper cute with them though, so you never have the heart to tell him to stop buying every headband in existence.

whenever he feeds you something, he puts his hand under your chin to catch any crumbs. a tiny gesture to him, a big one for you. he smiles when your eyes widen and you mumble a “it's good”, and proceeds to poke your cheek.

satoru puts his hand above your head to make sure you don't bump your head whenever you go under a table to pick something up.

he is ever so slightly awkward in the beginning of your relationship, but it's cute! the first time you fell asleep on him, he was terrified to move because he was afraid to accidentally wake you up. 2 hours later satoru really really needed to pee, but decided not to get up because of how much it felt like a crime to wake you up. (you ended waking up anyways because of how much he was fidgeting.)

tucks your hair behind your ears before you can even realize it's bothering you. he looks at you with the most lovesick expression as he does this. he also does this while you're falling asleep, or already fast asleep.

before bed or as you guys wind down for the night, he more than often bursts out laughing at a random thought or a funny memory. scares the shit out of you because one; he's right by your ear, and two; his laugh is loud as fuck. he can't even explain what he was laughing about until a solid three minutes because of how much he was laughing. (and it ends up not being that funny.)

adding onto the above, he's the type to think everything is funny as shit at night. every reel, tiktok, you name it. (even if it's the unfunniest video known to mankind) sometimes if you're already asleep, he has to step out into the bathroom or living room to let out these laughs.

wipes the sweat off his face by pulling his shirt up. he looks at you with a smug fucking smile after.

his contact name for you on his phone is definitely some cheesy pet name (sweet cheeks, baby cakes) with a bunch of heart emojis. his contact photo for you is another story though. constantly changing from a close up picture to a picture of you sleeping.

satoru gets cuteness aggression a lot because of you. clenching his fist and sighing before squeezing you into a tight hug. he'll occasionally bite your shoulder too.

a human radiator. the first time you touched him you thought he had a severe fever, but he calmly told you he was warm all the time. it absolutely sucks during summer because he insists to cuddle with you, and most than often you wake up sweaty. (even with the ac blasting) of course, you try to move out of his grasp when he's asleep, but he only pulls you closer subconsciously when you do. during the winter though, you are so thankful. despite the various blankets you have on, it was hard to get warm and comfortable, but with the warmth of satoru you're nice and warm.

bickers with you if you're on his side of the couch. yes, satoru does unassigned assigned seats at home too. you two playfully argue for a few minutes until he eventually huffs and just sits down on. these arguments are useless though because he ends up pulling you next to him to cuddle.

he's actually really good at taking people when they're sick. making sure you're staying warm under the covers, feeding you proper nutrition and making sure you're drinking enough water. he occasionally leaves the room for you to rest since he doesn't want his naturally warm body making you even warmer, but if he ever sees you up (you're going to the bathroom) he jumps off the couch and pushes you back into bed.

satoru suggests movie nights at home on quiet weekends. turning on an animated movie or romantic movie most of the time. he tucks you into his side with a blanket draped over the two of you. he ends up just staring at you the majority of the movie though.

does that thing where he tells you your shoelace is untied, (which prompts you to look down) and grabs your chin and tilts your head up to look at him. he smirks triumphantly. he does this multiple times a week, and you fall for it every time.

he spoils the fuck out of you on your birthday. gives you the amount of kisses the same age you're turning, listing number of reasons why they love you based on your age, and don't even get me started with how many gifts he gives you. dances while he sings you happy birthday.

once you start dating, you never are tying your own shoe ever again. before going out, he demands you to sit on the couch while he ties your shoes for you. when they get untied, he normally notices it before you. but if you do notice before him and you begin to crouch down, he rushes to crouch down before you and pushes your hand away.

likes comparing hand sizes with you. he has big ass hands, so he likes seeing how small yours are compared to his. totally not an excuse to hold your hand though, not that he would ever admit it.

[lovisyandereblog]

Yan!Android × Creator!Darling- I just can't get it out my mind... like, you created them. You're ✨️god✨️

I can keep going on this idea for a looong time, maybe next time haha

My English might not be the best, not my native language :D May I be the ⚜️Anon?

Wired Heart

Yandere Android X NON-BINARY Creator [Scientist] Reader

Part 1 <3

Guys big shout out to whoever wrote this ask cause it was one of the first asks I got and I kept postponing it, i love this ask smmmmm i hope its up to your expectations😭😭 and of course you can be ⚜️anonnnn IT TOOK ME FIVE WHOLE MINUTES TO FIND THIS EMOJI!!!!

The whirring of the machinery snapped you out of your thoughts.

Who knew building such an intricate and sophisticated robot took so long?

Sitting before you on your laboratory table was a beautiful android, so gorgeous it almost surprised you that you were its creator. Its jet black hair was soft to the touch, a lean yet muscular frame and those glowing red eyes.

You smile to yourself, hands on your hips as you admire your own creation; he was indeed beautiful.

‘Time to turn it on! Im so excited!’ You thought to yourself, wiping the sweat of your forehead.

You brought your finger to its power button, taking a deep breath before pressing it promptly.

Its bright red eyes opened immediately, you stared at it excitedly as it adjusted to its controls.

“Greetings Master. It’s lovely to finally meet you.” The AI spoke, smiling gently as its smooth voice filled the room.

“Hello Xander, the feeling is mutual.” You smile and can’t stop revelling in the glory of bringing to life such an intricate robot.

Xander was an amazing assistant for you, always there to help with any duty assigned to him. His features, expressions and ministrations were so life-like, sometimes you felt as if the robot in front of you was real.

He was the first prototype for the business you were aiming to start: a company which sold human-like AI to act as partners for lonely people.

An inquisitive idea you were taking advantage of since, let’s face it, millions of people craved a partner in this world.

Your robots would do everything a real partner would do: shower them with affection, spend quality time with them and basically ensure the customer doesn’t feel like it was a robot.

Weeks passed, you felt weary. There was always this feeling in your stomach; something was wrong. You felt a pair of eyes piercing through your skull all of the time. Your creation had been acting weird recently; almost as if it became a sentient being.

Xander would want to be with you 24/7, he would ask constant questions in regards to where you were going, who you were with and how long you were going to be; it became immensely suffocating.

Even your friends and family commented on the nature of your robot, that he seemed more than just your AI helper. They said at time it seemed as though he actually was your real human boyfriend—you kept brushing it off, but the truth of the matter was that you were questioning Xander’s intentions too.

Your robot did take care of you so well: cooking for you, cleaning for you, nursing you back to health when you were sick and tending to your every beck and call.

But you felt uneasy, his touch would linger on you for far too long—not a random touch but one of longing. The way his eyes would follow your every move with were a sense of affection. It was scary.

And thats why you took the long-awaited decision to terminate Xander—it broke your heart to do this, but Xander was taking control of your whole life.

You swallow as you walk into your workspace, looking at Xander on charging. His eyes were closed, hiding that crimson gaze of his. Your eyes ran all over his features, taking them in one by one before sighing.

Your hands worked skilfully on the keyboard of your computer, bringing up the data of Xander on the screen. You had already made a terminate control to be used in dire emergency situations…could this count as one?

You turn your head to look at the side of Xander’s face before bringing the cursor to hover over the big red control which read TERMINATE.

Your finger was inches away from pressing down on the left side of the mouse before a sharp pain evolved in your wrist—you gasped in pain before looking up at the cause.

Xander. Wait…Xander?!

Those bloodshot eyes of his were wide open, his perfect features looked tense; as if he really felt the pain of being eradicated from existence from the very being who gave him life.

You had no words, this can’t be real. He had no control over gaining consciousness during his charging period without your authority.

But here he was, his expression morphed into one of rage.

“Master. What are you doing?” His voice was cold, but you swore you could hear a hint of hurt.

You stared up at him, your wrist in an iron grip which you couldn’t get out of.

Your creation leaned down further, his perfect face inches away from you, “Do not ignore me Master, you are hurting me.”

His voice was broken, hoarse and upset; he couldn’t fathom why you would do something like this to him. He had been so good for you, he did everything you asked from him and never let you complain.

Xander felt his chest hurt, this wasn’t what he was created for. But he couldn’t help what was happening to him; his growing feelings, no, love and obsession he felt for you couldn’t be stopped.

“X-Xander you..you…you’re..h-how..” You could barely form a sentence, your brain still not processing what was happening in front of you. You must have just been sleep-deprived and imagined this situation for yourself. Yes..that was definitely what had happened…this wasn’t real.

“Im yours Master, how could you throw me away like this?!”

You had no words when suddenly he wrapped his arms around you, locking you in his arms; being made of metal still didn’t stop his hug being disturbingly comfortable.

You tried pushing away but there was no way you could escape his grip, you had taken over his wired heart; the sole reason from these unusual feelings he was having.

“You made me Master, but I won’t let you get rid of me.” He spoke, his voice slightly muffled by your shoulder he was nuzzling into, “We will be together…”

“Forever~”

BROOOO IM FINALLY DONEEEEE. Sorry this is so short, I still don’t know how to extend this but im working on other stories aswell!! I love you all so much and have missed you<33333333333

my masterlist <3

divider by @ohmarigold

[loveharlow]

aftercare with jj. thats it.

AFTERCARE W/ JJ

mentions of smut, 18+

•° definitely not the most romantic thing ever, but still cute in JJ's own way...

•° makes sure he has a towel or something on hand to wipe you off, especially after the time you didn't and your thighs were practically glued together

•° will personally wipe the sweat from your face because he knows how much you hate the feeling of it dripping down after all the adrenaline and shit has worn off

•° he loves to cuddle, as do you, but he likes to cuddle immediately after and that's a no-go

"jj, let go, i have to pee."

"mmm, you can pee when we wake up..."

"no, i can't. i'll get a uti."

"what're you tryna say? i'm clean."

"that's not..."

•° so then he googles what a uti is and is like "ooohhh", so he starts carrying you to the bathroom right after from then on

•° and while you pee, he goes to get the drinks he put in the fridge before you came over (a beer for him and a water for you)

•° as for the cuddling, it usually leads to the best post-sex sleep of your life

•° mainly because you both pass a joint until it's gone

•° laying butt naked in each other's arms, talking about nothing

"i didn't hurt you, did i?"

"no, not really."

"what do you mean 'not really'?"

"it's like a good kind of pain."

"hm, i see...your moans sound really nice."

•° and if he does hurt you, he's so sweet about it

•° he'll cradle you like a baby and kiss the spot, it's so cute

•° he'll also make sure the moments after go interrupted

•° like in the moment, he doesn't care to lock the door. the pogues have seen more of the two of you than they'd care to mention.

•° but afterwards, he wants to make sure that his baby gets her rest without any interruptions or someone barging in

•° so he locks the door, puts music on and turns it up loud enough so you can't hear the chatter outside, makes sure you fall asleep before he does, adjusts the blanket just how you like it so that you aren't too hot or too cold

•° he looooves to watch you sleep as long as he can before he's dozing off

•° you just look to at peace and adorable and he wants to commit the image to memory forever

©loveharlow.

heads up: i added emoji anons to my blog, so feel free to send an ask to take one if you frequently send in asks!

[boba-beom]

basketballers taehyun and yeonjun at a varsity / quick thoughts sfw

going to watch the varsity game for your bsf taehyun but little did you know the opposing team had an incredibly hot player, and he was team captain too.

while you’re watching the game you concentrate on taehyun, cheering for him and his team until the ball goes to captain of the opposing team and you’re there watching him with heart eyes. before he shoots a three pointer he quickly looks in your direction, smirking and almost looked like he scoffed to himself and he really shoot his shot. you find yourself applauding for that three pointer and taehyun’s looking at you with an incredulous expression wiped all over his face.

as each quarter passed, so does team captain of the opposing team. he huddles with his team before looking back. you were unsure if you were being delusional but it seemed plausible. as the game continues on you realise your bsf’s team’s score is way past the opposing, with a good 12 point difference. the buzzer indicates the end of the game and the crowd cheers for the home team.

taehyun’s teammates gather around each other, even their friends from the crowd join in the huddle as you make your way down the seats. you tip-toe, searching for your best friend, the one who you came to support. and you did. until you felt a light tap on your shoulder.

team captain from the opposing team standing in front of you with a boyish grin and beads of sweat falling off the tips of his hair and onto his forehead. you couldn’t help but blush from the way he’s slightly towering over you.

“hi, is this your first time watching?” he asks you, not thinking that’d be what he’d say. and all you do is nod in response, your doe eyes almost having him trip on his words. “I thought so, you’re really pretty and it’d be hard to miss.”

you feel like squealing, and internally you are.

“I’m yeonjun, by the way.” he puts his hand out as you shake his politely and give him your name in return. but he repeats it, whispering it to himself with a smirk on his lips, almost like he doesn’t want to forget your name. and it sounds good as it fell from his lips.

“you did really well tonight, yeonjun. I’m sorry you didn’t win.” your voice is so gentle, he’s feeling butterflies in his stomach for the first time that evening.

“it’s okay, I got to meet you though.” he chuckles, and you do too. “you think I can get your number? I’d love to get to know you more.”

you nod, biting back your smile a little. “yeah, I’d like that.”

“yeah?” he teases, giving you his phone and letting you put in your number in his contacts with your name and a heart emoji next to it.

once you pass his phone back to him you hear your name being called by no other than taehyun. you turn to see him walking past his friends and teammates to make his way to you, then turn back to look at yeonjun who’s walking backwards, getting dragged by his teammates for photos, all while he shakes his phone in his hand and mouthing ‘I’ll call you.’ with the cutest wink (blink) you’ve ever seen. you couldn’t help but shake your head with an amused scoff to yourself.

© BOBA-BEOM ; all rights reserved. do not repost, copy, alter or translate in any way or platform.

[uzumaki-rebellion]

"Paranoid, paranoid, paranoid

Things feel out of order

Look and look around, I'm not sure of

Pair of paranoia, no

I can feel it in my aura…"

Tyler the Creator—"Noid"

Life in New Orleans dragged to a crawl for Celeste. Pure drudgery.

With Terry gone, colors didn't look as bright in the world. Food lacked taste and texture. Getting out of bed in the morning took prayers and innate willpower. Her mother sent over aromatic herbal bath salts to soak her body in. Grand-mère left Tupperware sealed containers of sausage gumbo, or fried chicken wings on her stoop that Celeste found after work at night. She acted like an addict suffering from withdrawals. Micah said she might be anemic. She thought about making a doctor's appointment.

Lighting candles and praying didn't make her feel better. Bargaining with lower-tiered saints didn't either. She spent her lonely nights sitting on her stoop chain smoking and drinking more rum punches than usual. The trilling of insects and the calls of nightbirds kept her company until she became numb and crawled into a cold bed.

Dark dreams rattled the peace of her sleep and Celeste often woke up in a sweat, paranoid that she was being watched by some unknown entity in her bedroom or outside her French doors. Her dreams were of a macabre nature with visions of walking in the French Quarter at night, or traipsing along the riverfront at sunset hearing the flapping of large wings behind her back. Terry never appeared in those nightscapes, although she caught glimpses of a shadow slithering across the ground, trying to catch up with her running footsteps. His voice called out to her, and she'd wake up hoping for daylight so she wouldn't have to lie awake for hours waiting for the sun to burn away the eerie webbing of terror that entrapped her every evening.

The worst night happened when sleep paralysis took over her body, and she swore evil shape-shifting shadows crept along the ceiling trying to steal her breath. Eventually, she could wiggle her toes and fingers and slowly regain control of her limbs. On those nights, she missed Terry's enormous body spooned around her, protecting her from the bogeyman.

To his credit, Terry called and left her messages, not completely dumping their connection cold turkey. However, he always chose times when he knew she'd be at work and unable to speak. He still professed his love for her, but he wasn't coming back soon. She left him a voicemail asking for his address, willing to make the drive up to see him, even if it had to be a quick turnaround trip. He never gave it to her.

Long summer days took over. The southern heat rolled in, and so did the start of hurricane season.

An oppressive heatwave layered itself all over Louisiana, and no matter how many cool showers she took, her body sweated buckets in the sauna-like atmosphere. The weather didn't stop her from walking or riding her bike around her neighborhood. She forced herself to stay active, visiting her grandparents more often, and attending random brunches Joyce pulled together.

Nothing filled the void of Terry, though. Eventually, his calls and text messages thinned down to an occasional heart emoji.

On a rare two days off, back-to-back, Celeste slept in and ate leftover pizza. She pulled her locs back into a high pigtail and prepared for a long meditative walk to the French Market to meet up with Joyce and some new people she didn't know. No more moping about Terry. Life had to go on and there were other fish in the Mississippi River. Blah, blah, blah.

Wiping her face with a cool washcloth, she painted on shimmery orange lipstick and added a few gold hair decorations to her locs. She broke out the lime-green summer dress and clear jelly sandals that always made her feel pretty and summery.

Locking her cottage door and the iron security door, she waved to a neighbor across the street and headed north, her feet automatically walking her toward the B&B Terry stayed at. Walking past the property, she looked at the playful statues on the roofs and stopped.

The gargoyle statue was no longer curled behind the big dragon figure. Celeste paced back and forth, craning her neck to see if the glare of sunlight prevented her from seeing it. No, it was definitely gone. She pulled out her smartphone and swiped the screen until she came to her photo gallery. When she looked at the image on her phone, it reminded her of how unsightly the statue had been compared to all the other goofy figures displayed on the roof. Maybe the owners came to their senses and realized the thing didn't match the whimsical vibe they tried to cultivate.

She carried on her merry little way and entered the Quarter, wishing she'd thought to bring an umbrella for the direct sunlight burning her skin. Passing by one of the many historic hotels, she glanced up to see a sight on a wall that knocked her breath short.

A stone-gray gargoyle fixture clung to the side of a sweltering red brick wall holding out the head of a gorgon…Medusa. The face of the creature looked exactly like the one on the B&B . Celeste walked past that part of the Quarter too many times and knew for a fact no gargoyle statue had ever been there before. She snapped a picture of it and hurried along to her brunch meet up.

She forgot about the gargoyle until two hours later when her entourage of seven window-shopped, and she glimpsed a different, more ferocious-looking gargoyle statue peering down from the roof of a boutique shoe store. Its six-foot wide flint-gray wings cast a shadow across the sidewalk. The outstretched clawed hand looked ready to snatch pedestrians off the street. Celeste shivered and nausea overtook her stomach. Acid churned in the back of her throat and she almost vomited her lunch special onto her sandals.

"Duchess, what's wrong?" Joyce asked.

She pointed at the statue.

"That was never there before."

Joyce stared at it. Celeste pulled out her phone and showed her the other gargoyle.

"This one I found on the side of a hotel. Another just like it was a few blocks from my house. It seems weird to me. I feel like I've been seeing a lot of weird shit lately."

Celeste rubbed her stomach and burped. A sour taste coated her tongue.

"I don't feel so good."

"Do you need to sit down?"

"Yeah."

The group pitched themselves up at a dueling pianos bar to get Celeste off her feet. Everyone ordered frozen mango margarita drinks except for her. She went to the public restroom and hung her head over the toilet. The sickness passed, and she used the sink to rinse away the sweat on her face.

Feeling better, she returned to her group and settled in for chit-chat and getting to know a man that Joyce brought for her to meet. The sun went down and the heat dropped by two measly degrees. She snacked on creamy artichoke dip and pita chips, listening to all the lively conversations around her until she noticed a man staring at her from the main bar. His dark skin gleamed with good genetics, and his dashing eyes zoned in on her quickly. She thought he was flirting, but his direct gaze came off predatory.

Glancing around, she pretended to take an interest in the active street life as the Quarter came alive for another night of debauchery. On the corner, a striking Black woman with a bald head and gothic make-up watched her. Her black painted lips peeled back into a slick smile and Celeste's intuition kicked in, warning her that something wasn't right about the woman. Her entire focus was on Celeste, just like the man at the…

Shit!

Celeste blinked, and the man at the bar moved toward her with a disjointed stroll. His movement reminded her of glitches in video games she played as a teen, when the operating system hadn't quite worked out the kinks. Unnatural. From the corner of her eye, she caught the slow track of a dark-brown beauty who smiled in a way that chilled Celeste in her gut. It was the smile of something trying its best to look…human. The parts of Celeste's skin that Terry once bit flared with a sharp stabbing of pain, the bruised nerve-endings waking up all the way. Her body wasn't right all over.

"I have to go, it's late," Celeste yelped.

She leapt to her feet and hugged Joyce.

"Wait, we can give you a ride to your place after we finish the rest of these appetizers," Joyce said.

"No…it's okay. I have to go to work in the morning."

"I thought you had the day off from both jobs."

Celeste shook her head and threw a ten-dollar bill on the table to help with tips. She brushed past the disappointed blind date and tried to hide herself within the crush of bodies milling around the party atmosphere. Her heart almost stopped when the strange man and woman from the bar followed her.

She ran like she was doing the fifty-yard dash in tenth grade, her legs stretching out to move her ass far.

Home.

She needed to get home, lock her doors, and hide.

Her emotions caught in her throat. Something was wrong with the world she lived in. Ever since Terry came into her life, she'd overlooked strange occurrences because she was caught up in the exhilaration of new romance and new dick. She'd ignored all the weirdness, because she didn't want to connect it to Terry. Now she even wondered about the missing white guys, Carl and Jacob. Terry did physically assault them and afterward, they went missing. The coincidence of them all interacting together nagged at her subconscious.

"What the fuck is going on?" she screeched when two twin gargoyle statues overlooked the roof of a picturesque townhouse filled with three-stories of revelers drinking and shouting down at passersby. Gargoyles were not a thing in New Orleans. It wasn't even Halloween season yet.

Celeste glanced over her shoulder to track any other weirdos following her. It looked like she lost them in the packed narrow streets. She double-backed and headed up to Rampart to bypass the Quarter completely. Flagging a taxi, she jumped in and gave directions to her house. She ducked down in the backseat and pretended to check her phone.

"Night, Miss," the older Haitian driver said.

"Mèsi," she said.

"Ou ayisyen?"

"Non, Black Creole from here," she said.

"Mwen wè…but we are kouzen, oui?"

"Oui," Celeste said.

"Are you okay?"

He looked at her closely from the rearview mirror.

"Um…I'm fine. Goodnight."

She paid in cash from some money Terry left behind and darted to her front door. Jamming the key in both door locks, she twisted them open and ran inside. She turned off the living room track lights that were on a timer and fled to her bedroom.

Sweating and panting from the exertion, Celeste sat on her bed in the dark and waited for her heart to stop pounding. After an hour of sitting, she went to the restroom, and showered for bed. Her smartphone lit up with a text from Allen, the guy Joyce fixed her up with. He left his number and told her to call him whenever she wanted to hang out.

She checked the inside lock and security bolt on her front door and back. The sour taste of liquid rose in her throat and she rushed to the sink in the kitchen and vomited up pita chips and the artichoke dip that looked like beige slurry. She rinsed her mouth and wiped her lips just as a loud pounding on the front door started.

The hell?

She peeked around the corner of her kitchen. Dark figures moved outside the colored, frosted glass panels of the top half of the front door, even though her porch light was off. The corner streetlight flickered on.

Her stomach tightened, and she held her breath, afraid that whoever was outside could hear her breathing. She stood completely still and waited. The pounding started again.

"Hello?" a female voice said. "I'm a cousin of Terry's. He wanted me to bring you something."

The lie rang hollow, but Celeste's heart softened at the sound of her lover's name. She pushed her back against a living room wall hidden by a bookcase, determined to ignore the person until they went away.

"Celeste? My name is Dominique. I'm here on vacation and Terry asked me to drop off a gift. I'm saving him thirty dollars by bringing it myself instead of him mailing it."

Dominique's voice sounded sweet and very country.

"He's coming down to see you in a few days and he wanted to give you this. I think it's a fancy dress. He said you looked real pretty at Durand's the last time you were in a dress."

Celeste lingered near the bookcase, but she stepped further into the living room. Only Terry and her friends knew about Durand's.

"You know what? I'll just leave it on the porch. Sorry I came here so late. I dropped by earlier, but you weren't home, and I didn't want anyone to steal it if I left it behind."

Celeste crept another few inches toward the front door. She lifted her cell phone out of her purse and kept the police number on her screen. The cell phone still listed it under Freddie's name as "Freddie/Work". Dominique banged on the security door again.

"Just leave it on the porch, please," Celeste called out, annoyed by the intrusion, her finger hovering above the police contact.

"No problem," Dominique said.

She heard movement and footsteps walking away. Waiting for an hour quietly, she finally cracked open the front door and kept the security door locked.

No package.

She looked down at the bottom step and still didn't see any box or bundle. Glancing at Freddie's police number, she debated about calling him.

"Hello, Celeste."

She dropped her phone on the floor, cracking the screen. The strange man from the piano bar stood at the top of her stoop, his dark, foreboding eyes mesmerizing her to the point of her falling into a dazed stupor. Behind him, one step down, was the Black goth and the dark brown beauty with the uncanny valley smile. Two other Black women in dark clothing waited on the sidewalk, watching her with sinister eyes.

The man smiled, revealing platinum grills. The dark brown of his eyes faded into silver orbs that enchanted her with their strange ethereal glow.

"We don't mean to frighten you," he hissed, his nostrils flaring and sniffing at her from behind the iron security door.

The women also inhaled deeply and licked their lips, staring at her throat.

"What the fuck do you want?" she said.

"This bitch talkin' spicy, Deacon," the Goth said.

The man tutted at Celeste, shaking his head.

"No, no, no…that's not how you speak to The Deacon, my sweet sustenance. We're here to ask you about Terry."

"What about him?"

"Where is he?"

"I don't know."

The man pounded the frame of the iron door. Celeste jumped and stepped back.

"Don't fucking lie to me, Duchess!" he shouted.

He turned his head away as if to gain control of his emotions. His lips curled into a deceptive smile.

"How do you know me? Who sent you here?" she asked.

"Let us in, Celeste," the Goth said.

"Yesss…invite us inside and we can…talk. Open the door," The Deacon said.

His silver, unblinking eyes held her in place, and the colors around his towering frame drained away. When he spoke again, his voice echoed inside her head, reminding her of the way Terry invaded her thoughts…read her mind. The canine teeth of the platinum grills elongated, becoming wolfish and frightening. Fangs.

"Let us come inside…"

The four menacing women dropped the façade of humanness, their fangs exposed and dripping with saliva. Celeste's security door had wide enough gaps to reach an arm inside, but The Deacon didn't grab her through the openings.

It occurred to her that the door was a barrier they couldn't cross without her permission. As long as she didn't verbally consent to letting them in, she was safe on the inside. But if she stepped out...they would feast.

"I smell him all over you…inside of you…open this door so we can speak of my brother without eyes upon us."

Celeste raised her left hand and flicked on her porch light. The bulb didn't emit UV rays, but it improved her visibility and momentarily distracted them... long enough for a shadow to stretch across her doorway.

Celeste gasped and touched her cheek. It felt like Terry's hand had stroked her skin with the warmth from his palm.

"Fucking bastard!" The Deacon shrieked.

He glanced back at the others.

"His sentinel is here...watching over her," The Deacon said.

He slammed both of his palms on the two middle bars of the security door.

"He will come back here for you, and when he does, we'll be waiting. Tell him he can't hide from us forever."

The Goth woman sniffed the air and bared her fangs at The Deacon.

"The Old Ones are near. We have to go!" the Goth yelled.

The Deacon glared at Celeste and her eyes watered. She blinked once and the strangers at her door vanished like they were never there. Her body swayed and the sound of loud flapping wings above her cottage rang in her ears. Something landed with a thud on top of her roof and walked across it with heavy footsteps. She slammed the front door shut and locked it again, cocking her ear toward the ceiling, listening for whatever new monstrosity awaited her.

Luckily, it didn't stay long. She stood staring at her ceiling with bated breath and a thundering heart rate. The hairs on the back of her neck tingled with familiar urgency. She turned around and looked at her French doors.

Terry's shadow darkened the curtains.

She walked with slow, trance-like steps toward the French doors and stared at the outline of his body behind the thin drapes.

"Are you there?" she asked.

Her voice sounded so weak and helpless.

The shadow didn't answer, and Terry's voice didn't go into her mind. That shit had been real. The first time it happened at the dive bar, she thought she had been drunk, horny, and imagining him talking inside her head. The dawning realization of what he truly was terrified her. Behind those drapes was proof of an abomination to humankind.

And she let it into her home.

Slept with it.

Let it feed from her, thinking it was some fetish kink. Just some deep hickeys and love bites that got his rocks off.

Fucking hell.

She whimpered and held her hands in a prayer position against her lips.

"Are you here with me… Terry?"

She reached for the doorknobs and unlocked them, flinging both doors wide open.

A sleek black cat sprinted across her small courtyard and leapt onto the neighbor's fence, blending into the darkness and out of sight.

Chapter 10 HERE.

Masterlist

Taglist:

@nahimjustfeeling-writes

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[e-dubbc11]

For a summer activity, how about Billy and you in battle of the water guns. It would give Billy a chance to do things he never got to do as a kid. 🩶🩷

My dear sweet Katherine,

Thank you so much for participating in my summer sleepover, for reading my fics and for being such a good friend to me. I love you to pieces and I hope you like what I did. I wasn’t exactly sure if you just wanted a moodboard or a fic so I just did both for you. I hope you like it! 💜

Splish Splash

Photos are not mine. They are courtesy of Pinterest/Google.

Pairing: Billy Russo x F! Reader

Warnings: Couple of swear words, fluffy bunnies and unicorns, smooches

Word Count: 1.1K-ish

Summary: You surprise Billy at work and help each other cool off with something fun.

As always, thank you for reading!  I appreciate it so much and comments, reblogs are welcome and encouraged. Don’t be shy to tell me your favorite part. 💕💕 💕

The walk through the park to get to his office wasn’t necessary but you couldn’t resist on a day like today. The fluffy white clouds were latched to a sky that seemed unending and behind those cotton-like clouds, the early afternoon sky was the brightest of blues.

You could feel the sweat gathering at your hairline and at the back of your neck and beads of perspiration slowly trickled down your chest and disappeared behind the V in your crisp white t-shirt.

You wanted to surprise your boyfriend Billy with something fun.

Briefly, you glanced down into your purse to make sure you had packed them. You couldn’t help yourself when you saw those cheap little plastic water pistols in the window of the toy shop on your way home from work last night. This will be a fun surprise for Billy.

You pictured his childlike smile, the smile that would don his face every time he was able to do something he never got to do as a kid. His childhood and innocence taken from him so abruptly, forcing him to grow up when he wasn’t ready to and to constantly look over his shoulder is something no child should ever have to go through.

And there was nothing you wouldn’t do to help him cope with that.

With each long stride along the sidewalk path was a step closer to getting to see that perfect Billy Russo smile which made your heart soar and flutter with excitement.

Fresh cut blades of grass looked soft as silk and the myriad of scents from the summer flowers floated through the air above their petals which were as soft as satin. The sweet aroma of the summer air was the work of the honeybees that were dancing from flower to flower and they continued to hum at a very low frequency, almost hypnotizing you as you walked.

On their break, construction workers wiped the sweat from their brow as they hid under the trees to escape the heat. Park benches lined with well-dressed people, eating their lunches and letting the sun kiss the high points of their faces before they had to go back to work.

You were getting close to Anvil so you texted Frank. You had given him a heads up about what you planned on doing when Billy was finished with his meeting with Homeland Security.

Please tell me he’s not back yet.

You texted.

Frank’s reply came quickly.

Not yet, kid. You got time and one of those water guns better be for me.

He said with a laughing emoji next to it.

Of course I have one for you too! Be there soon!

Outside Billy’s office was a small table for papers and forms that needed his signature but today there was only one piece of paper that read…

“Choose your weapon, soldier. XO”

And you left three water guns on top of the paper, already filled and ready to go.

You waited patiently under his desk for him to walk through the door. His voice carried into his office, complaining to others about the heat, and to not disturb him until after lunch.

Grabbing the door handle, you heard him pause as he read the piece of paper on the table and if you knew Billy at all, you knew he would take two of the three water guns, leaving one behind for Frank’s taking.

The office door opened slowly but only a little bit, you knew he was sweeping the room for you. Then you heard his firm silvery voice.

“You in here, sweet girl? Come out, come out, wherever you are, my love. I know you’re here somewhere.” He said.

You could tell he was smiling.

Carefully and slowly, you pushed the chair away from the desk and peeked above the large wooden desk plane. You took a blind shot in his direction and hit him in the hand with a stream of water.

Not wanting him to get too close so you would be trapped under the desk, you popped out from under the desk and started shooting but so did he. Every shot he took, he hit you somewhere.

The ice cold water actually felt refreshing as it splashed against your warm skin. Billy’s dress shirt sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, his arms were outstretched as he continued to shoot in your direction.

Suddenly, Billy felt cold water hit him in the back.

“Ah, SHIT!” He exclaimed.

Frank had a wide grin stretched across his mouth as he yelled out, “You shoulda been watchin’ your six, Bill!”

And he let out a laugh.

Billy had two guns so he could shoot at you and Frank at the same time.

“Billy Russo, I knew you would take two of them!” You said with a laugh.

And there it was, that childlike smile you had waited all morning to see, it finally happened. Water from your pistol hit him in the face and water from Frank’s left water marks on his dress shirt.

“Well, I’m outta ammo and I gotta get back to work. You two kids have fun.” Said Frank, shutting the door behind him.

With your arms outstretched, you aimed your water gun at Billy.

“Hands up, lieutenant.” You said with a sly smile.

Raising his hands, Billy let the water guns dangle from his forefingers by the triggers.

“Two against one is hardly fair, baby.” He said with a devilish grin.

You started to walk toward him.

“But you had two guns, handsome.” You stated.

Still smiling, he hung his head in defeat.

“You’re not wrong, beautiful. How ‘bout you come claim your prize.” Said Billy, playfully.

You both dropped your water guns on the floor as he cupped your cheeks and claimed your lips like it had been weeks since he had seen you last.

The bristles of his beard gently scraped against your soft cheeks as his tongue parted your lips, gaining access to your mouth so it could entangle with yours. Smiling against your mouth, his kisses were hungry as they moved up and down the sides of your neck.

“Y/n, my love, you always seem to know exactly what I need at the right time, don’t you.” He said. “Thank you, sweet girl.”

Billy never talked a lot about his childhood. He hated it, made him angry, but out of everyone, he chose to talk about it with you.

“You’re welcome, Billy.” You replied, along with a gentle kiss on his cheek.

The bad memories had been replaced with good ones, like today, and they’re memories he’ll never forget. You strived to give Billy the experiences he missed out on when he was young. In your eyes, he’ll always be good enough and he never failed to thank you every single day for telling him that.

Tag List: @wheresthesunshinesblog @idaoftheburningmind @rafaelakelley @snowkestrel @fakehappy27 @music-indie-tv @fictional-hooman @kayhi808 @munsonownsmyass @gijos @celestialend @nutmeg17 @rosaleenablack @vaguekayla @qu1etwolf @danzer8705 @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @mysteriouslydeafeningwerewolf @aoi-targaryen

Others that might enjoy: @itwasthereaminuteago @fluffyprettykitty @jvanilly @ittybxttykxttytxtty @imagine-a-fictional-boyfriend @mrsbillyrusso

If you’d like to be added (or removed from) my tag list(s) for the ever so handsome Billy Russo, just let me know and thank you again for reading! 💕💕💕 If I tagged you but you didn’t want to be, just let me know and I’ll never do it again.

[writemekpop]

Boy's a Liar | Lee Donghyuck (Haechan)

Summary: One day, your nudes show up everywhere in college. Did your boyfriend Haechan share them? 

Genre: College AU, cheeky Hyuck, angst

Word Count: 2k

Four letters. Blood-red, smeared over your locker in lipstick. 

SLUT.

Goosebumps ran over your body. Hands shaking, you tried to wipe the words away, but it only stained your skin red. You could hear snickering from behind you. 

Your heart was in your stomach. You heard people’s whispers.  

“I heard she sells her nudes for money.” “You know she blew the entire ice hockey team once.” “She even lets her boyfriend do anal!”

Chenle, basketball captain and mega bully, shoved past you. 

"Ever heard of plastic surgery? I wouldn’t touch that with a ten-foot pole.” He jeered and high fived his friend Jisung, who was doubled over laughing.  

You frowned. You spotted your best friend Winter and pulled her into a classroom. "What the hell's going on? Why is everyone being so mean to me?" 

Winter bit her lip. “Oh baby… you don't know?”

"Know what?"

Winter handed you her phone. "Don't shoot the messenger."

It was the Griffin college class of 2024 chat, with all 150 students. 

You nearly dropped the phone when you saw it.

It was your picture – no, it was your nude. You were lying in bed, completely naked.

“What the hell is this doing on the group chat?" 

The picture was followed by lots of comments and laughing emojis.

Winter snatched the phone back. "I think you've seen enough."

Your knees gave way and you slumped to the floor. Guilt, shame, fear, were all welling up inside you faster than you could process. You burst into tears. 

 Winter patted your back. "How did that picture even get out?"

You sniffed. "I dunno. The only person I sent it to was... Haechan."

The realisation dawned upon you. It had to have been him.  

Haechan was your boyfriend. He was the cute boy who was always ten minutes late to class, with warm brown eyes and a devilish smirk. He was the boy who would never let you leave his room without wearing something of this – a beanie, a hoodie, (his boxers, once) – so you ‘wouldn’t forget him’.   

You'd only been dating three months, but you loved him, and he loved you back… or so you thought.

You stood up. “I need to see him.” 

Winter squeezed your hand. “I’ll be here if you need me.” 

---

It wasn’t hard to find Haechan. 

He was in the cafeteria, surrounded by a group of boys, being cheered on and fist bumped. Haechan was grinning like he had just won the lottery. 

Your frown deepened the closer you got. 

“Can’t believe you smashed her, bro. Nice one!” Johnny, one of the seniors, said to Haechan. 

Haechan smiled awkwardly. “Err, thanks I guess…”

“Give us all the details!” Johnny said.

Haechan shrugged. “Well…”

When Haechan spotted you, the smile dropped off his face. 

Doyoung, another senior, pushed Haechan to the side and stepped towards you. He raked his eyes all the way down your body. 

“Hey baby girl, I heard you’re gagging for it. Wanna take this for a ride?” Doyoung grabbed his crotch, face leering.

 You resisted the urge to slap Doyoung. “The only thing I want is to run you over, asshole. Fuck you!” 

You stared at Haechan, waiting to hear the string of curses he would unleash on his friends. But he just stood there, rubbing his elbow, trying to avoid your gaze.  

You turned and sprinted out onto the field. You couldn’t take this any longer. You ran till your legs started to ache.

You heard a voice from behind you. “Y/n, wait up! Jeez, I forget you’re freakishly fast.” 

It was Haechan. You turned around to see him gripping his side, wheezing. 

His dark hair was a birds’ nest, and his brown skin was glowing with sweat. You hated that he still looked gorgeous. 

“What do you want?” you spat. 

Haechan straightened up and brushed his hair out of his face. “Y/n. I’m so sorry… the photo, I-“

“How could you send that to everyone?” you said, interrupting him. “That was meant for your eyes only!” 

Haechan shook his head vigorously. “No! I didn’t send it to everyone, I swear!”

You frowned. “Then how did it get out?”

Haechan gulped, looking incredibly uncomfortable. “Well I mean… I did send it to Jeno. But I told him not to share it with anyone! I made him swear on his mother’s life!” 

“What the fuck, Haechan! Why would you do that?” 

Haechan sighed. “Look, Jeno was bragging about all the hot girls he’s slept with, and showing me their pics. I just wanted to… be included.”

"That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard!" You shoved his chest. "I hate you!"

You turned around, ready to leave again. 

"Wait!" Haechan grabbed your arm. 

You looked into his big, shining brown eyes. Would Haechan finally take responsibility for what he’d done? 

But instead, Haechan whined, "It wasn't even me, though, it was Jeno!"

You yanked your arm away.  

You had turned down Haechan's best friend Jeno a year ago. Ever since then, he'd been cruel to you. Was this his form of payback?  

You huffed. "You’re the one who shared the photo in the first place! We're breaking up. Obviously."

Haechan made a face that reminded you of an abandoned puppy. "But why? I said sorry like a bajillion times!” 

"Oh you're sorry, are you?" You said, your voice rising. "Everyone’s calling me a mega slut, when I’ve slept with one guy. You.” You groaned. “We only had sex four times, for god’s sake!” 

"And those were the best four nights of my life!" Haechan said. "Please don't do this."

You scowled. "Why do you need me, anyway? You could have any girl you wanted… Mr Stud. Oh, face it, you loved the attention. All those guys clapping you on the back…”  

Haechan screwed up his lip. "What do you want me to say? Those guys didn't even know my name before this!” 

"Well you have plenty of time to hang out with them," you said. “Coz don’t have a girlfriend anymore.” 

Haechan hung his head, brown hair flopping over his eyes. 

You sniffed. You’d wanted to be tough, but you it was impossible. Tears began rolling down your cheeks. "What if my parents find out? Or my professors? Can people get expelled over this? Oh my god!"

Haechan stretched his arm put to comfort you, but he pulled it back at the last minute. He stood there in awkward silence as you sobbed. 

After a few minutes, you finally managed to stop your tears. You felt utterly exhausted. 

Haechan was still standing there. He was digging his nails into his palm, the way you knew he only did when he was extremely stressed. 

You both stared at each other, waiting for the other to speak first. 

"I'd like you to leave now, Haechan." 

Haechan sucked in a breath, his brown eyes glistening. "Okay, I'll go. But I really hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me." 

You scoffed and turned away. You couldn't look at Haechan right now. One glimpse of his cute nose or the moles on his cheek would be enough to melt your heart.  

You didn't turn back until his footsteps had completely retreated. 

---

The next three weeks were rough, though nothing was as hellish as that first day.  

Mostly people had gone back to ignoring you, but you still avoided any parties or big gatherings. 

What hurt the most was losing Haechan. 

He wasn't just your boyfriend; he was your best friend too. You missed cuddling him at the end of a long day, you missed hearing him sing in the shower and then come out in nothing but a towel and a smirk. 

You also missed the sex. You had barely started doing it, and you were enjoying getting to know his body and your own. You had just discovered that Haechan's weak spot was his ear lobe, and that if you kissed it just right, he would purr. 

You should never have sent that stupid nude. You should never have trusted Haechan. 

You felt like the ground had disappeared beneath your feet.

Haechan had texted you a thousand times, but you ignored them all. At least he had the decency to stay away from you in class. He'd just watch you from the other side of the room, a mopey expression glued to his face. 

---

The next day, you were in the library, face buried in an organic chemistry textbook, when you started hearing increasingly loud murmurs.

You looked up and saw people running out of the library.

You were about to get back to your homework when you saw Winter running towards you. 

She was waving at you frantically. "Y/n, come quick! It's Haechan!"

Your heart was in your throat as you followed Winter and the increasing crowd of students into the cafeteria. 

When you saw Haechan, you gasped. 

Haechan was standing on top of a table in the centre of the cafeteria. His arms were spread wide, and he was shouting at the top of his lungs. 

"My name is Haechan and I'm twenty-two years old." He yelled. "And this..." He reached for his belt buckle. "Is me naked. Take a good look, people!" 

The crowd collectively gasped. 

Haechan shoved down his trousers and underpants to his ankles, and stood there, hand on his hips. 

You could see his strong tanned legs, his muscled butt, the dark patch of curly hair at the base of his completely exposed penis.

You smacked your hand across your mouth, unable to believe what was happening. 

Everyone was staring. Some people started giggling, others pulled out their phone and started recording. 

Winter, who was standing by your side, started to boo, but you elbowed her in the ribs, shutting her up. 

"Get down from there at once!" The piercing voice of the Dean shocked everyone. Most people dispersed. 

Haechan got down and pulled up his pants. He walked towards you, seemingly unbothered by the yelling professors and laughing students all around. 

He stopped in front of you and stuck his hand out. 

"Hi, I'm Haechan," he said, smiling. 

You shook his hand tentatively, ignoring the way your skin buzzed where you touched him. 

"Err... what are you doing?" You asked, half chuckling. 

Haechan's expression turned serious. "Look, Y/n. I know what I just did doesn't make up for what I did to you but... I'd really like for us to start again. I miss you, a lot." 

You paused. "Hmm... I don't know about that, Haechan."

Haechan's entire body deflated. He looked devastated as he nodded solemnly. "I completely understand," he said, turning away.

"Wait!" 

Haechan turned around. His eyes met yours.

"But… I will let you buy me a coffee. And we can take it from there."

Haechan could have beat his chest with happiness. 

—

MAIN MASTERLIST

Let us know what you thought in the comments or on anon! 💋

[lace-coffin]

could you write something with Bubba Sawyer who's dating a s/o who is chubby(and ftm if that's all right) and they dislike how their body looks. It would be amazing if this included smut.

Bubba Sawyer with a ftm!chubby!Reader who’s feeling insecure (NSFW)

I use he/they/she for bubba in my fics btw!

Both you and bubba were bigger guys, both having a soft layer of fat cushioning your body to paw at and whisper sweet nothings into on warm Texas mornings in bed. You loved Bubbas body, big burly and hairy, thick arms to carry farm equipment and to hold you when you need protecting from the harsh outside world. You wouldn’t change a thing about your partner.

So why couldn’t you extend that love to yourself? It wasn’t like you disliked fat people, your beautiful girlfriend was fat for Christ’s sake, all soft curves and smooth edges you couldn’t keep you hands off so why did you feel so gross about your own body? You adored it on bubba but on you it just all seemed…wrong. You didn’t always feel this way, some days were better than others and you’re working on accepting and loving your body but it’s such a struggle on days like these.

work around the homestead finished for the day you practically jump bubba once he’s kicked off her boots and wiped the sweat from her brow. Squealing in surprise and making a soft ‘oof’ noise from the impact they return the affection, sliding their thick arms around your middle and placing a soft kiss onto the crown of your head. There’s no missing the way you squirm in discomfort, shrinking under his touch and pulling away almost as if burned.

Instantly your partner is checking you over. Did she do something wrong? Are you injured somewhere? are you feelings sick? Placing their hand back onto your stomach they whimper, worrying you might need a trip to the doctor, the nearest one is so far out too..

Giggling a little at their motherly instinct you remove his hand from your stomach, guiding her hand and lacing your fingers together, pressing a kiss to their knuckles.

“I appreciate your concern honey but I’m not sick so don’t go worrying yourself about that”

Bubba lets out a relived breath, glad to know you won’t be needing to be hauled into the truck and driven out of town to the nearest doctor but if that’s not the issue then what..? Cocking their head to the side they sign “please tell me?”. If signs could have a : ( emoji you’re convinced it would be tacked on the end. She looks like a wet cat in the rain, sick with worry.

You sigh and relent, not wanting to admit what you’ve been dealing with but wanting to scare your partner even less. Seeing your reluctance he squeezes your hand in encouragement, prompting you to go on. Taking a deep breath and releasing you start.

“I haven’t been feeling good about my body, I’m usually fine with how I look but right now it just freels…gross. Like my skin doesn’t fit the way it should and my fat is sitting all wrong. I just don’t feel very handsome right now.”

The look that passes over your partners face can only be described as pure heartbreak and confusion. Shes thinks you’re the most breathtaking man in the world so why..? You’ve had bad days sure but never pulled away from him like this.

Seeing the expression plaster itself on their face in time real time makes you scramble to explain.

“It’s nothing you’ve done! I’m just having a shitty day, been feeling weird and out of it…I’m sure I’ll be ok soon”

You’re not sure whether you’re trying to convince bubba or yourself.

Nodding in understanding she signs again.

“How can I help? I love you”

“Love you to big guy! Just uh, do you mind if we hang out in our room today? I don’t really feel up to seeing everyone at dinner.”

Humming in agreement you make your way up the stairs, bubba squeaking out an embarrassed noise as you slap his ass that’s just sitting in front of you. It’s too tempting not to. She doesn’t take that lightly, grabbing you by the waist (once you reach the landing, they’re not trying to break both do your necks.) and slinging you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. You kick and struggle but you’re easily overpowered, not that you don’t love it, but what’s life without a little fight?

Bubba tosses you onto the bed, giggling at the way you bounce before landing. You spread your arms with an amused look and invite them to join you. Wasting no time he crawls into your arms, mask unfastened and slung to one side. Earlier into your relationship it had taken a lot of trust and work on both ends to get them comfortable enough to unmask around you but now it’s like it never mattered in the first place, you’ve made him feel so loved and worthy without the mask it makes her wonder why she was ever so adamant on keeping it on.

Sweet kisses between the two of you quickly turn heated and rougher, tongues gliding over eachothers messily, muffled moans caught between bitten lips. Thick fingers trail down your body, dipping below the hem of your shirt, teasing the soft plush skin there and asking permission. You wiggle under his hold, the fingers playing with your shirt ticklish, and give them a nod of confirmation. Wasting no time Bubba wrestles your shirt over your head only to be met with your binder, she gives a less than excited groan at the extra layer, signing “arms up”

You snort in response “yes mother” you reply sarcastically.

An unreadable look passed over his face, devolving into a smug smile.

“Mommy?” They sign out

“Hey, whatever you want, cutie” you joke back, helping them tug your binder off and taking a well needed deep breath. Delighted as always his hands fly straight to your plush stomach, grabbing handfuls in appreciation, fingers trailing along the happy trail peaking from your already damp boxers.

Suddenly hit with an idea, your partner pauses, snapping their head up to meet your questioning eyes.

“Can we try something new please? I have an idea..” she signs out shyly

Never one to turn away from a new experience you agree, nodding and squeezing his hand. You wriggle out of your boxers and throw them to the side, they can wait until later.

“I trust you” you smile back, giving them the go ahead to get started on whatever they’re planning. Humming in agreement he takes himself out of his boxers, already hard and happy to continue.

“Well hello to you to” you giggle, giving them a quick stroke, causing them to groan and buck into your hand. Huffing she readjusts herself, you spread yourself open for him and close your eyes, waiting for the delicious stretch of her inside you, but it never comes.

Slipping open your eyes in confusion you let out a surprised yelp as your boyfriend’s thick cock is slapped onto the plush surface of your stomach.

Bubba pauses for a moment, meeting your eyes as to ask for permission to continue their ministrations.

“Go ahead handsome, I’m happy to see how much you enjoy my body.” You smile back, leaning your weight onto your elbows behind you, keen to enjoy the show.

With one final nod he begins to thrust again, wet cock slipping over your soft tummy. The noises from their mouth are downright sinful, little gasps and moans making you squirm in your spot.

“There’s my good boy, hm? Gonna cum for me?” You lull out, a lazy smile on your face.

Your words of encouragement push them over the edge, with one final moan they release onto your stomach, warm and sticky.

“Fuck, you like it that much baby?” You giggle, petting Bubba’s hair, who’s now collapsed onto your dirty tummy in a panting mess. You receive a muffled groan in response. You’ll take that as a yes.

[fairyofshampgyu]

Now live! Stream: 2

Genre: smut, camboy au, college au, crack

Pairing: camboy! Beomgyu x gn reader (afab when smut)

Warnings: camboy, sub! beomgyu, dom! reader, solo beomgyu, reader masturbates, use of vibrator

Synopsis: Every Thursday night at 8pm, you tune into your favourite camboy: Angel313. What you don’t know is he even goes to the same uni as you, is in the same class as you and is Choi Beomgyu, the campus fuckboy but will you keep his secret?

Word count: 1.4k

“You got partnered up with that fuckboy?” Your friend, Chaewon asked as you both sat in one of the eating areas on campus.

“Uh huh.”

“I thought you said your professor only gives it to the best students?”

“Yeah that’s what I was thinking too. Surely he’s not amazing or anything. I mean just look at him!”

Both of you turn to the glass windows, watching him from outside, a group of people were gathered around and gushing at him as he played basketball with a bunch of other sweaty dudes. He had a black tank top on and one of those headbands to stop the sweat from getting on his eyebrows.He looked like a basketball player you thought. He was pretty lanky, considering the people he was playing with were abnormally short for the average height of a male.

“He looks so…so-just dumb and incapable! He’s late to class a lot and sometimes he doesn’t even show up!” You exclaim, frustrated.

“You know, I heard he knocked someone up once. And he was a real asshole about it too! He like forced them to get an abortion or something. I bet he’s got a bazillion stds too.”Chaewon returns to face you instead of the window, slurping her drink with a straw.

“I would not fuck him even if I was getting paid.” You say, also turning your gaze back to your friend.

“Did you talk to him after your professor told you?”

“No I didn’t.”

“Shouldn’t you go and get his number then if you’re gonna be working with him? Go now whilst he’s right there!”

“But he’s playing a game! And loads of people are there!”

“Just go now! He’s literally right there!”

You groan but begrudgingly get off your seat, walking out and towards where he’s playing.

Unsure of how to get his attention, you cluelessly step right into the middle of the court. All eyes now focusing on you instead and the game abruptly stopping. Shit. Are you dumb? Why didn’t you just wait until after the game? That’s another embarrassing thing you’ve done that Chaewon will probably add to the list she made of you. You can see her face staring at you from the window, looking at you as if she was going burst any moment laughing. Well, she was the one who told you to go. She probably didn’t mean walk right in the middle of the game though.

Beomgyu knits his brows and slowly walks to you, ball in hand as he was just about to shoot.

“Do you need help…?” He asks.

“Uhh I never got you number.” You state. What were you supposed to say?

“Woah take me out first, damn.” Beomgyu chuckles and winks at you, a series of fox whistles erupt.

“The fuck?” That guy can’t be serious. “We’re working on the concert performance together. Remember?”

“Yeah, yeah. Give me your phone.”

And so you hand your phone over to him and he inserts his number in, adding his contact name and changing it to ‘Gyu💘🥰😈🥵’ with a series of questionable emojis.

You immediately change it to ‘Choi Beomgyu.’ once given your phone back.

‘I’ll message you when we can meet up to discuss initial plans.” You say, walking away.

“I’m done actually so we can just do it now.” He grabs a towel, wiping away the sweat, shaking his shaggy hair and then putting the towel around his neck.

Now that you come to think of it, Angel313 had a similar hairstyle. The wolfcut must be pretty popular these days.

“Okay.”

You head to the library, sitting down in the zone where you’re allowed to chat. Beomgyu looks around at the surroundings, seemingly perplexed. Had he ever even stepped foot in the library before? Or any library, matter of fact. You wouldn’t be the slightest unfazed or surprised if he hadn’t.

You sigh and clear your throat. “So…we’ve both been chosen to organise the Christmas performance. Let’s start off with what days we’re free and what days we’re not free.”

“I can’t do Thursday evenings.” He finally speaks up. He wasn’t very talkative with you whilst making your way to the library together, making it quite painfully awkward.

You’re actually pretty glad with that. Now you won’t miss any of Angel313’s streams!

“Oh Same. How come you aren’t?” You ask, curious.

It seems to catch him off guard, “Uh…I work then…”

“Only on Thursday evenings?” It seemed like an odd time.

“Yeah. Why aren’t you free then?” He tried to switch the attention off him.

“I…I go to see my family then.” You can’t really say you watch your favourite camboy at that time now could you? Still, you could’ve chosen a better excuse than that.

“You go to see your family every Thursday night?” He squints his eyes at you. It was a really shitty excuse actually. Couldn’t you have thought of anything else?

“Yes.” You clear your throat, “Anyway, what days can you do?”

“Tuesdays and Fridays are good for me. What about you?”

“That’s good for me too actually. Do you want to meet up tomorrow then? Morning?”

“Yeah sure.”

“In the mean time think of a few good Christmas songs we can arrange. I’ll think of some too.”

“Yep.” There’s a buzz from his phone and he picks it up, checking it and then quickly getting up. “Well I’ve gotta go. See ya around, y/n. He smirks and winks at you before leaving and you return it with a frown.

He’s definitely a strange guy. You’re not sure if you’ll be able to produce something good with him. He’s a bit of an airhead.

There’s a ping that comes from your phone as well:

@Angel313 is going live in: 1 hour!

You nearly forgot! You better get home quickly then.

There Angel is, clad with his pink and white thigh highs again, mask covering his face and his belly piercing in view.

“Hey guys! How have you guys been doing?” He waves at the camera. And his inbox goes crazy with responses.

“How am i doing? Pretty good. I’m going to get pretty busy soon” same, you thought. “It’s a little bit stressful but it’s okay! We’ll wait a little longer for people and then I’ll start.”

He takes out a pink vibrator and then holds it to the tip of his dick, turning the setting up and his body immediately jolts in response. He whimpers and keeps the vibrator there, not adding or doing anything else to stimulate himself but it seems to still do the job as his legs trembled from time to time and he moaned and breathed out erratically to it. He was really sensitive.

Seeing his plush thighs on display made you want to dig your nails into them and leave hickeys all over. And you grabbed two of your fingers, circling them around your clit and then inserting them in your pussy, fucking yourself as you watched Angel.

@iluvsubs123: Play with your pretty tits for us, pretty boy

One user types in.

“You guys want me to play with my tits?” He asks, looking at the chat and pretty much everyone says yes. So he does, bringing his hand up to play with his nipples, pinching them and rubbing his thumb over the brown buds and he closes his eyes with the added stimulation.

Another user tells him to put the setting up more for the vibrator and Angel does. Soon enough, his thighs are slightly trembling and he moans at the high setting of the vibe on the tip of his dick and the stimulation of his nipples, stumbling on his words, saying he’s nearly going to cum.

You pick up the pace of you fucking yourself at the sight and when he arches his back up and squeezes his thighs together, loudly whining, you cum at the same time he does. His cum, pooling on his stomach and he keeps his shaking legs squeezed shut together, still whimpering and whining, breathing out and his hips bucking into the air. He keeps the vibe still there for a bit, whimpering at the overstimulation.

Floods of donations come in like they usually do at the end of the stream as well as lots and lots of praise for him and he stays to chat for a little bit.

“Oh and what are you guy’s favourite Christmas songs by the way? What are some good Christmas songs? Kinda need it for a project.”

Having already researched some Christmas songs you thought would suit the music performance, you typed a few suggestions for him and so did a lot of others.

He says his thank you’s and the stream ends once again for the week.

A/n: let’s see if the picture gets flagged again 💀 (it did.) Also I still don’t properly know how reader finds out beomgyu is the camboy but we’ll see 🤷‍♀️ Also yes, I am aware Christmas has already passed 💀 but who knows how long this will take to finish. It could be Christmas in this for a long time 😭

Please actually reblog and comment if you like the fic. It’s really appreciated tysm !<3🙏💕😊 It’s discouraging when fics have such little reblogs 👎😭

Taglist: @pogigyu @denleave1088 @mashimarshmello @stellz581 @cha0thicpisces @soobsfairy444 @lcvetyvn @1ummcalhoody6 @imrllytootiredforthis @bjttersweet @aliceoracleollormusic @yongboksgf @daniarafid @nyanggk​ @aggiebackstage​ @openingssequence​ @qluvrv​ @be0mflwr​ @shoooobin​ @beomgewwwwww​ (some people couldn’t be tagged)

Comment to be added to the taglist !!

[boltedfruit]

Read on AO3 or below the cut!

Steve's attempt at a record-breaking gangbang ends up with him flying back to Hawkins to track down number one-ninety-eight. The mystery man who left an impression. - A thumb swipes his lower lip. Breath ghosts along the bite mark on his shoulder. It stings. Steve hopes he drew blood. “I’ll remember this forever, sweetheart.”

Thank you to @cowboythighs for giving me permission to write this fic based on their super fun prompt, which you can read here~

Read the full fic below:

What’s in his fridge?

There’s at least one bag of broccoli, half a container left of that nice parmesan he splurged on…maybe the chicken wings in his freezer are still okay. Hopefully? He still has some of that decadent hickory barbeque sauce. There’s no reason he can’t cover a bit of freezer burn with a healthy dousing of the stuff. He didn’t do the dishes last night, but that’s fine. Has time to run the dishwasher before–

Something vibrates. Loudly.

Someone’s phone is going off in the middle of the shoot.

Steve lifts his head, annoyed that the director hasn’t called cut yet. The man on top of him is dripping sweat, a bead of which narrowly misses landing in his eye. Steve casts a look sideways, hoping to catch the director raising his walkie.

Nope. Still posted up behind his wall of cameras. Stoic as ever, the man watches Steve work.

Steve lets the moment drag, his expectant silence punctuated only by the grunting and groaning of the muscled man pumping away between his spread legs.

More loud vibrations.

He cranes his neck to see over the man’s shoulder, sees the clock over the huddled producers and decides himself it’s time for a break.

Steve presses a hand against the massive chest above him and pushes lightly. The man’s movement falters, stops. Steve meets his eyes with an easy air of I’m the star, get off me, and it does the trick. The behemoth withdraws from Steve’s body with a mutter and wipes the sweat from his red brow as Steve swings his legs over the platform and sits up. He tests his weight, but finds he can still place pressure where he needs to without any pain.

The director shouts something Steve doesn’t hear. Calls back, “Somebody’s phone is going off! It’s ruining the vibe.”

“What phone? I don’t hear a phone,” the director says in his heavy German accent, shrugging in a way that rankles Steve. “We’re almost at two-hundred, surely it can—”

“No, it can’t wait. I need five anyway.” His own assistant appears by his side with a robe.

Steve shrugs it on and heads toward the source of the vibrations. Around him, production comes to a standstill while fluffers and PAs run around tending to the talent.

Steve tracks the phone down in a bag near craft services, but a producer beats him to it. She sheepishly digs out her phone and shuts it off, muttering an apology.

Steve sighs, grabs another cracker and decides to take a much needed bathroom break. On his way, he grabs his own phone and sees a text from Robin.

still good for eight?

I’m only at 197, might be closer to 9 or 10.

big ew, but congrats. should I pick up dessert?

Coffee double dutch choco cake pls?

obvi, my very spoiled friend. have fun you little award winning superslut!

Thx, lov u!

Robin sends back a string of emojis. He finishes up in the bathroom, thinking of all the times he’s been nominated for an AVN but never won. And it’s not like it’s terribly hard. He chooses interesting projects. He works with skilled teams. He stays clear of scandals and keeps his nose figuratively and literally clean of all the seedy underground bullshit that comes with the job.

But best actor still eludes him.

It grinds his gears, or at least the ones he used to have back in high school. The ones driving him to be a better player than everyone else at basketball practice, the ones that pushed him to state championship games three of his four years at Hawkins High. The ones that crowned him prom king and made him a bullshit name for a bullshit time in his life.

It’s his inner machinery, and even though he’s grown up a lot in the last five years, he’s still yet to replace some old rusted parts.

As he returns to set, Steve runs his hands through his hair, pinches both cheeks a little to bring a fresh blush back to the surface. His assistant applies lip gloss as he situates himself back on the black and white platform where he’s been fucked for the last three hours by one-hundred-and-ninety-six men.

He’s aiming for three hundred before dinner. Three-fifty if more than a good chunk of the men left are two-pump chumps. It’s about scheduling.

Steve shifts his weight from one asscheek to another, feels a brief twinge in his lower back. He flips over, stomach pressing against the slim pleather cushion.

It’s almost five.

The director claps his hands, and once Steve is in position, everyone resumes their roles. He gets comfortable on his elbows, cock limp between his legs and showing for the camera. He hears the next guy shuffle up behind him, can hear the shaky breath leave him.

Everyone knows their part to play in this circus, and Steve knows his best of all. He’s front and center, surrounded by a seemingly endless line of men of all ages, shapes and sizes. He’s taken more dick and strap today alone than he probably has in the last few years combined.

He’s going to win best actor, and he’s going to win best gangbang.

The thing about sex work is that it’s like any other job, really. There are good days, long days, fun days, days that drive him up the fucking wall. There are times he’s excited, nervous, bored out of his skull. Most shoots he books last a day or two, and hardly ever does one last more than a week, tops. This isn’t his first gangbang scene, but it is a record breaker for him, and several others in the industry as far as he’s researched.

But so far it’s been a lot of the same. Almost two hundred men and he hasn’t held a steady erection since an hour in and now he’s been daydreaming while giving tried and true sultry looks to the camera, fake moans of practiced pleasure leaving his throat.

Steve’s good at his job.

He’s been doing it since his parents cut him off and kicked him out at eighteen. He moved to LA and lived in his car until Robin graduated and followed him to the big city. It was exhilarating at first, fun. These days, at twenty-three, he’s mostly just bored.

And he knows better than to ignore an ache. If he holds one position for too long, he’ll be wrecked for a week. He’s big enough of a name now he can negotiate a lot of his contracts, and so he always gets control over how he’s positioned. The cameras can figure it out from there.

“And…action!”

Steve pouts for the camera in front of him, parts his freshly glossed lips and crosses his eyes a little. He never got the cross-eyed thing, but it’s apparently a huge kink for some.

Fingertips tickle over his ass, lead to palms lightly petting his hips. Steve wiggles for the man he can’t see, encouraging and coaxing as he goes to his knees and leans back. Wants to be grabbed, manhandled. Add the potential for a little healthy bruising and the audience eats it up.

But that doesn’t happen. Instead, he hears a breathy sigh from behind him, and then the sound of spit a second before he feels it hitting his hole. It drips down slowly, painting him wet, and Steve keens for the lens trained on his face.

The thing about this shoot is that it’s been a nightmare to plan. A year to put together a schedule, another six months to find the talent. There’s been cancellations, reschedules, a few deaths even, more casting, issues with health insurance and testing dates. Steve’s been along for it all, because this is his project. His idea, his brainchild.

All for one day.

One day to break some records. Prove to himself he can do this. That what he does can win awards and not only nominations.

After that he can take a very, very long break.

The hand rubs up and down his spine, firm and sure. Applies a little pressure at the lumbar and Steve actually lets out a small moan. It’s nice. He might set up a massage for tomorrow.

The camera swings wide, leaves Steve’s face and gives him some breathing room. The hand on his back remains while the other presses two fingers to his hole. He’s stretched, lubed beyond the meaning of the word even before the spit. There’s no need to finger him open.

But he receives a gentle probing with two fingers, a few deep, slow strokes that press in search with what seems to be a practiced touch. Steve rolls his hips back. Takes a few tries, but when the extra finds his prostate, he gasps, drives back to meet that zing of electricity again and again.

“God, just look at you,” the extra whispers. “Can’t wait to feel you. I’m so lucky.”

Steve moans. Not so fake this time. He drops his head, catches sight of lightly haired thighs covered in scribbly tattoos. He doesn’t even take into account the size of the man behind him, too focused on his own swiftly filling erection.

Huh.

It’s not like it’s a requirement or anything, by contract or personal preference of his scene partners. A lot of the time the bottom isn’t hard. Not exactly fair, but a limp bottom does not a film break, or whatever. More than a few of the men who have been inside him today have paid him plenty of attention, even tried for longer than Steve felt necessary. But they were all here to do a job, and that was to film a gangbang scene with Steve as the gangbangee. Hard or limp, he just wanted them to finish in him so they could get the shot and all go home to a nice hot shower.

“You’re gorgeous, y’know that?”

Though dirty talk was common, it wasn’t in the script for this shoot. And it wasn’t the usual lead-in of fuck yeah, look at your puffy hole, you take it so well, you’re like a bitch in heat, take that shit, take it like a whore.

“That’s it, baby, relax for me.”

It’s sweet…it’s kind. Things a lover would say.

Another strike of lightning burns him from the inside out, and Steve lets out a breath he’d been holding.

The hand at his back glides down, calloused fingers smoothing over his skin, until the director calls for penetration.

Steve wants to snap at him to shut the hell up. This is fine. More than fine, even. His prostate hasn’t exactly been the star of the show today, and a little pleasure makes his job that more enjoyable.

The fingers leave, and in their place frustration grows. That is, until the blunt head of another cock is pressing against him–no, dragging. The man is rubbing himself over Steve’s hole. Isn’t shoving in and taking like all the others.

More spit hits his rim , makes him startle. The hand on his back draws circles to settle him like a spooked horse.

This isn’t lovemaking. This is a scene. Steve huffs at himself, thinks just stick it in already, dude.

The extra’s hands slide from his back to his hip, his other hand joining in and pulling Steve’s weight, using Steve’s own body to slide inside. Steve groans. The guy’s big, thick. Should have paid better attention while he had his head down.

“Knew you could take it, Harrington,” he says softly, and Steve almost misses it when the man whines as he bottoms out. Fingers dig into his sides, tight but not bruising. “Pictured it a little different, but a guy can’t complain.”

So the guy’s got a fantasy, that’s fine. A lot of the talent cast for this production expressed a desire to work with Steve. Came with the territory, and the long filmography.

But something about this man hits him a little different. His words have him melting enough to feel warmth build, begin to spread.

His legs are tingling, insides burning with the stretch and latent pleasure. He wants more.

He grinds his hips back, trying to put his weight into it. The man moans low and finally, finally, starts moving his hips. Drags Steve back on every thrust.

“Jesus, you’re so–so–” Another drawn-out moan and the man collapses along Steve’s back. He’s slim, but his arms are strong as they wind around Steve’s waist. More tattoos. Bats in flight, stretched faces with sharp teeth. Long hair tickles over his shoulder as the man noses along the back of his neck “You feel like a dream.”

It’s quiet. Quiet enough Steve knows the cameras won’t pick it up. It’s just for Steve, and that sends his blood rushing, dick kicking as tension builds in his belly.

“Shit,” he grinds out, feels drool slip from his open mouth to pool on the black pleather underneath. “Oh, God.”

“That’s it. Wanna make you feel good, sweetheart. Come on. You deserve to feel good.”

He’s so hard he’s aching. Feels the weight of himself slap his stomach on each ever harder, deeper thrust.

Steve’s going to come. He’s actually going to come.

“Just knew you’d be so good for me. Could tell the first day I ever saw you. Wanted you forever. And look what you’ve accomplished,” he babbles, Steve’s heart growing three sizes, “You’ve changed the industry. You showed LA who’s king.” A particularly deep thrust has his elbows giving out. The man effortlessly braces his abrupt fall, a calloused hand snaking up to pillow his jaw. Steve is vaguely aware of the camera in front of them both, but he couldn’t care less if he tried right now. It feels too good. Feels better than anything all day, all month, all year. To the cameras, it must look like Steve’s being choked, but it’s the farthest thing from it. He’s being held, kept safe. “Always knew you’d go places. Get everything you wanted and more. I was actually jealous, and look at us now. Can’t believe how lucky I am.”

Steve’s cursing, praying, something as he’s pressed into the pleather. Now, his cock is trapped, facing backward so every time the man draws out and pushes back in, their cocks drag for a brief moment of bliss. The cherry on top. Neat trick.

“Never thought I–never even dreamed–”

A gasp, a flash of teeth in skin and Steve is coming with a shout, flexing his ass to get more, more.

He feels warmth spread hot and wet inside him and knows this will only last another moment or two. He needs to turn around. To see the man that just took him apart without touching his cock. Needs to–

A thumb swipes his lower lip. Breath ghosts along the bite mark on his shoulder. It stings.

Steve hopes he drew blood.

“I’ll remember this forever, sweetheart.”

The director shouts something Steve doesn’t hear. Can’t comprehend past the pleasant hum buzzing inside him.

But then the weight on his back is gone, the cock inside him slips free and with it a spurt of come. Cameras circle back around to catch the aftermath, hears a muttered nice from some crewmember when they see the twin puddle beneath himself.

He rolls his eyes, safe to do with no coverage on his face.

He feels so empty. Cold begins to creep in.

Steve blinks quickly. Why is his throat suddenly so tight?

Then another man approaches, is lifting his hips up, is pushing in with absolutely zero patience or attention paid to Steve at all. And that’s fine. It is.

They’re on a schedule, after all.

-

“Yippee!” Steve claps when Robin sets the plate of cake before him.

She joins him on the couch, a forkful of her own piece of cake already in her mouth. “I don’t know how you’re even sitting right now.”

“It’s honestly not that bad.”

“Don’t talk with your mouth full.”

“Look who’s literally talking.”

Robin pulls her own fork free and sticks her tongue out. “Seriously though, you sure you don’t need anything? A heating pad? Ointment? Therapy?”

“Ha ha. I already took care of what I needed to–stop making that face, oh my God. I’m just dandy, Robs, don’t worry. I want to veg out and watch tv for the next six months and gain like twenty pounds.”

“You are too skinny.”

“My point exactly.”

“But, still like. Wow.”

“I know.”

“Three-hundred sixty-eight guys. Whole ass men were inside you today. That has to be a health issue for the community or something, right? How are your insides not melting out of you right now? I should have laid down a towel to protect your precious piece of shit couch.”

“You’re so funny, and it’s our precious piece of shit couch.” But even so, Steve preens a little. He did it. He broke his goal and then some. “I’m gonna win that goddamn award if it kills me.”

He looks over when she doesn’t answer. Robin is looking down at her plate.

They’ve had this argument before.

“I’m taking a break,” he says, reaching for her hand. She squeezes, and he squeezes back. “Promise.”

Robin nods. “So,” she says, shaking herself from the momentary tension, “you mentioned one guy was unique. I’m almost afraid to ask.”

He snorts. “Why?”

“I mean, was he like eighty or something? Was he dressed all in latex with one of those gas masks? Did he have two dicks or what?”

Steve laughs, drops her hand to grab a pillow, and throws it at her instead.

Then he tells her.

In as much detail as she can handle, anyway.

“Did you get his number?” Robin asks, and frowns when Steve shakes his head no. “What about a name?”

“It was kind of a rush, an in the moment kind of thing. Wasn’t really time for a lot of talking.”

“Oh my God, Steve.”

And then, his best friend in the entire world has an absolutely batshit idea.

-

He gets the call sheet from his favorite producer, an easy going older man with decades of experience in the industry. He doesn’t ask questions.

Three days later, Steve's got a list of three-hundred-and-sixty-eight names, including himself and the crew. Beneath the call sheet is a packet of numbers and addresses.

It might be a crazy idea…but Steve’s one of the world’s leading gay adult film stars. He can afford to be a little crazy.

So when his sabbatical officially begins, Steve starts calling.

-

The first thing he tries is going down to number one-ninety-eight. That makes sense, and even Robin had agreed.

But the man who answered was a fifty with a slightly higher voice than he remembers. He quickly thanked Steve for the experience, and the paycheck, but explained he didn’t have any tattoos. He was afraid of needles.

Steve huffs, crossing the name and number off.

His guy was definitely younger than that, had a deep, smooth voice. Had ink that looked homemade from a glance.

The list he has is in no discernible order. It’s neither numerical nor alphabetical. He checks the first few addresses and finds it has nothing to do with location, either.

So he calls each and every single person. Actually blocks out time to do it around breaks and lunch, time spent with Robin which they both agree is long overdue.

After a week and a half of calls, Robin drags him to the beach for an afternoon of sunbathing and people watching.

“I don’t know, Robin. I already crossed off the guys I know, the ones I’ve seen in other projects. But I’ve still got over a hundred people left.”

“Says the guy who wanted to bang over three hundred guys. This is your own fault.”

“I know,” he agrees, swirling his fingers through the sand. “I’m just…I don’t know. Worried, I guess.”

“Why?”

“What if he thinks I’m a freak for tracking him down? What if he wants nothing to do with me?”

Robin snorts. He looks her way, sees her nose and cheeks are red from the sun despite her large sunhat. Her toes are dug into the sand, and the book she’d been reading lays forgotten on her stomach.

“Don’t sell yourself short, Steve. From what you told me, it sounded like he had a little crush.”

“Yeah, but that could have been my filmography talking. Lot of guys say I’m on their shortlist of dream lays. It’s like a fantasy thing for them.”

“Disgusting. Absolutely abhorrent,” she says easily. “But you said your guy was different. You think it was just an act?”

“I couldn’t tell. He seemed…sweet. If that makes sense?” Steve shrugs, hands her the bottle of sunscreen. “You need another layer. You’re turning into a tomato, birdie.”

She cups her hands, and he squeezes a dollop out. As she rubs the lotion into her skin, she seems to consider what he’s said.

“How sweet can an actor in a gangbang be?”

“You’d be surprised.”

“Then you have to keep at it. You have to keep calling until you find him. You may strike out more often than not when it comes to dating, but you have, like, a good good people radar.”

“What does that mean?”

“I mean, you naturally attract decent people,” Robin says, smiling. “Take me, for example! I’m the best person you know.”

Heat climbs his face, settling at the tips of his ears. He sinks further into the beach foldout, embarrassed for a reason he can’t name. Robin’s smile turns knowing before softening into something closer to friendly pity.

Robin drops her book in the sand and stands, grabs Steve’s hand and starts pulling him toward the water’s edge.

“Come on, sourpuss, let’s go swim!”

-

He’s down to five people.

The phone numbers they gave were either disconnected or, more likely, fake. So he has no choice, really.

He decides to fully embrace his apparent new level of creepy stalker and physically visits their listed address.

The first three people are surprised but happy to see him, and he ends up sharing beers with two of them, but all three are very clearly not the person he’s looking for. The fourth is nice enough, if wary, but is in his forties and is trans. Is all too happy to show Steve the strap he used on the day. So that rules him out.

There’s one address left, and honestly Steve had been hoping it was a fluke. A mistake.

Because the address is in Hawkins, Indiana. His hometown.

He never chose a stage name, a mistake that many a producer and actor used to lecture him on in the first couple of years he was in the business. But he made it his own. It worked. His parents haven’t contacted him since he was kicked out, so if they know about his career choice, Steve isn’t aware. He prefers it that way.

He always imagined he’d send them a photo of him smiling with his AVN award when he finally won. A final, brief fuck you and career announcement all in one.

Needless to say he hasn’t been back to Hawkins once since he moved to LA. And though he isn’t shy about his legal name, Steve has never discussed his past, his childhood. Nobody in the industry that is legally allowed to discuss his association with Hawkins never has, because they simply don’t know.

Steve’s honestly a bit surprised nobody he used to know has reached out in the last five years. He knows Tommy at least frequented the sites his agency posts to. Nowadays, gay and straight films can be found in the same tags, same pages. Even if someone didn’t go looking for gay porn, they still might have come across Steve in something. An ad, even.

But no, nothing.

He’s not ashamed of what he does. He hasn’t actively avoided his past or anything. If anything, he’s simply strived to not care about it. It doesn’t matter. He hasn’t seen a Hawkins address in years.

Until now.

It’s weird. Could be some kind of underhanded prank. Maybe he should call his lawyer and tell him to expect some sort of blackmail soon.

The last four have led him to the neighboring cities around Los Angeles, but he’s not had to leave California yet. And being back in Indiana has him off his feet. Wrongfooted in some small way that leaves him feeling like a stranger. An impersonator.

He left small town life behind and made it big in a way that would have had every gossiping homebody’s heads turning if they knew.

Half expects to burst into flame the second he steps foot within city bounds.

But nothing happens. His rental car keeps driving. The turn off the highway is familiar, second nature.

He pulls into Hawkins and follows the directions parroted to him by his GPS. He notices several new fast-food places, the old mall has been redone, some houses seem bigger–but it’s still the same small, old town.

He comes to a crossroads. Left to Forest Hills Trailer Park where he’s never been, or right to what would eventually lead to Loch Nora and his childhood home.

He takes a left.

The trailer park isn’t huge, but each home has a small yard. He drives through a winding road that’s half gravel until he finds number fifty-three.

He parks, gets out and stands. Butterflies swarm his stomach, his palms sweating.

Steve gives himself a silent pep talk and walks up the short drive to the front door.

He knocks twice and waits.

It’s getting colder in Indiana. A few more weeks and there might be the first fall of snow. Back in California it was eighty-six degrees when he boarded the plane. He shivers.

Steve jumps a little when the door opens, the screen between him and an older man who frowns down at him.

“And who are you?”

“Hi! Hello. My name is Steve. I, um. Is there a Wayne Munson here by any chance?”

Steve steadies himself, tries to calm his rising nerves. He steps back to make room as the man opens the screen door and steps out into the early afternoon light.

“That would be me, son. Can I help you? You look a little lost.”

It’s not him.

Not his guy.

Steve’s stomach drops. Feels a little sick to his stomach.

The voice isn’t the same. It’s low, sure, but rougher with age. And Steve remembers the tickle of long hair along his skin. This man, Wayne Munson, is balding.

Unless he wore a wig…then, maybe…

He rechecks that this trailer is indeed number fifty-three.

“No, I uh. This is the place. This is going to sound strange, but I don’t suppose you have any tattoos?”

Wayne huffs. He pulls up his sleeve and shows Steve a faded old tattoo, a blue cross with blown out edges.

“Just the one.”

Steve nods, disheartened. “I see. Okay. I, uh, thanks for your time. I’ll just go–”

He turns, feeling foolish.

“Kid, wait a minute. Come on inside and warm up. You drink coffee?”

Steve debates. He’s cold, sure, but that’s an issue fixed by turning around and driving back to the airport to hop on a plane back to California.

Staying could turn out badly. Hawkins was never friendly to outsiders, and the rumor mill sprinted when it came to talk of things like sin and violating the good word of the Lord.

Steve’s pretty sure being a porn star is hidden somewhere in there.

And it was never a secret in backwoods like these people tended to dole out their own justice. Some kids were killed in Indy for being gay and working corners. Why not here, in the home of a man Steve doesn’t know?

He puts on his best smile. “That would be great, sir.”

The man drops his eyes to the ground, waves a hand at him. “Please, enough of that. I’m just Wayne. Always have been, always will be. Come on in, it’s not getting any warmer out here.”

Steve shuffles inside, thanking him. “Looks ready to snow soon.”

“Ah, another week or two I think. You from around here?”

“Used to be,” Steve says as Wayne gestures for him to sit on a stool at the kitchen counter. “I moved to California a few years back.”

“Hm.” Wayne starts a fresh pot of coffee, old-fashioned kettle on the stove. Steve’s grown used to his Keurig. “Big place compared to here. How d’you like it?”

“It’s busy. I’ve gotten used to it.”

“I imagine there’s always something for doing.”

Steve nods. “You’re right.”

“What d’you do for work out there? I’ve heard it’s all tech companies and wannabe actors.”

Steve runs a hand through his hair. “Well, actually…I’m an actor.”

“Ah, geez. Don’t mind me, it’s the stereotype.”

“No offense taken,” Steve says. “It’s kind of the reason I’m here.”

“Do tell.”

“It’s kind of embarrassing. I had this big, uh. Film. Scene. A big scene. It required a lot of background actors. Extras, you know?” Wayne nods. Steve is flubbing this big time, Christ. “I kind of hit it off with one of the–one of them. Fell a little in love if I’m being honest. My best friend, she had this crazy idea to get the call sheet and go down the list to see if I could find him.”

Wayne’s eyes go a little wide and it’s only when the kettle starts whistling that Steve realizes his slip up.

But Wayne beats him to it. He takes the kettle off the burner and starts fixing two cups of coffee. Says, “Young love’s hard to come by, kid. I’ve been telling my boy for years now, if ya find somebody worth chasing, you run. Doesn’t matter the obstacles, if they’re a boy or girl. Just run to em.”

“That’s…that’s really good advice,” Steve mutters, surprised and relieved when Wayne doesn’t seem to have a problem with him. “Means a lot, being from here.”

“Me, I’m from back south, but Hawkins is home. Strange as it is to hear, this town’s actually progressive compared to where I grew up. But there’s still work to do, that’s for damn sure.”

Wayne reaches into a cabinet and brings down a bottle of liquor Steve recognizes all too well. Good quality bourbon. Steve doesn’t miss the healthy pour that goes into each mug.

“Good for warmin’ up,” Wayne says as he passes one mug to Steve. He goes for the fridge next and pulls out a half eaten chocolate cake. “You fancy a piece? My boy whipped it up, but I told him like hell he expects me to finish it on my own.”

“Oh, I don’t want to take up your time–”

“You’d be doing me a favor,” Wayne cuts in, smiling in a way his parents never did. Kind, warm. Real.

Steve relaxes the rest of the way, the tension leaving him all at once. Wayne Munson’s a good guy.

“I’d love one.”

-

“...and I told my boy, I said, if music is what you wanna do, you go and do it. Convinced him to get his GED and get out of dodge. School was never much of a Munson family pastime, anyway.”

“God, yeah. I hated school. I barely graduated, and that was still a few months after I got kicked out.”

Wayne shakes his head, takes a sip of his beer. They’re sitting on the front porch, watching the sun begin its slow descent. Steve almost forgot how pretty Indiana skies could be.

“I knew your folks, y’know. Back in high school. Forgive me for saying it, but your father was a real piece of work.”

Steve can’t help the bitter sound that leaves him. “Trust me, I know.”

“Can’t stand a parent dumping their kid on the world like that. More like dumping the world on their kid. Real life is tough shit. If you love your children, you don’t just abandon them to figure it out for themselves.”

Steve hums. Takes a chance. “It sounds like you’re talking from experience?”

Wayne scowls out into the distance. “It was just me and Al for a long time. Our parents weren’t around much, and when they were they weren’t the best. We all did what we could.” He shakes his head again, meets Steve’s eyes. “Just a shame Al turned out exactly like our old man. Couldn’t spot respectable if it bit him on the balls.”

Steve laughs again.

Wayne lifts his beer and points out to the gravel road. “‘Bout time!”

Steve looks out and watches an old beat-up van wind down the road, music getting louder the closer it gets.

“You’ve got company! You should have said. You’ve been so kind, I’ll get out of your hair.”

“Don’t be stupid,” Wayne tells him good-naturedly. “That’s just my boy. Owes me dinner since I’ve cooked the last few.” Adds when the van is parking behind Steve’s rental, “You should stick around for supper. He makes a mean lasagna.”

“I really should…”

Then Steve sees him.

Wayne’s boy, who he’d assumed at first was his son but learned was the nephew he took in after his brother fucked up somewhere along the way.

Steve’s throat goes dry.

The music cuts off as the van door opens and out hops a man with wild black curls tied up into a mess of a bun. He’s not even looking their way as he hip checks the door closed and walks back to the double doors. He swings them open, grabs a duffle, many bags of groceries baring the local Krogers logo, and a large glass casserole dish that looks far too fragile to be balancing the way it is. Before he closes the doors again, a large orange tabby hops out and winds around his legs, rubbing and trotting after its owner as he heads up the drive.

“Sorry I’m late, old man. Store was packed, and then Garfield here didn’t want to…Oh.”

He slows when he sees his uncle has company. Stops completely when his eyes land on Steve.

The guy’s young, could be a few years on either side of Steve’s age. He’s wearing all black denim, complete with chains and large belt buckle. His knuckles are tattooed and Steve wonders where else he has them.

And he’s familiar is the thing.

And isn’t that funny?

Because back in school. Steve would play reckless and brash. He’d skip school, get in plenty of fights he always lost. Made friends with the wrong crowd and got into enough trouble. And he would wonder, in the way only a closeted bisexual boy could in the Midwestern US, what it would be like to run away with someone a little older, a little rougher, a little more mean. Someone who knew more about the world. Who didn’t give a shit about kid stuff like Steve used to, like reputation and dating and getting into girls’ pants as much as possible. On being the best all-American athlete he could so others would think, wow, that Steve Harrington sure is going places.

He would wonder, in profound secrecy and silence and repression, what it would be like to kiss someone like the man stood before him under the shade of a tall tree in the woods behind his house. What it might be like to touch another boy and not have to be afraid to death of the idea.

The large cat, Garfield, rubs up along Steve’s legs then. Walks a figure eight between them and yowls to be paid attention to. Steve reaches down to pet between his ears, is vaguely aware of the two other men talking to one another, of Wayne explaining why Steve is here, who Steve even is.

And Steve knows this guy. He does.

He’s got long hair. Tattoos, maybe more hidden away. Has plush lips and flushed cheeks from standing in the cold with arms weighed down by too many things, and, and–

“You’re–”

“I’m Steve,” Steve says, straightens back up and holds out his hand. “Steve Harrington.”

The other man gawks. A bag slips from his fingers and a tub of cream cheese goes rolling right back down the small incline.

“Jesus, boy,” Wayne’s muttering, walking down to help with the groceries. He grabs the serving dish first, then heads for the runaway cream cheese. “Where’d your manners go? Introduce yourself!”

Wayne grumbles as he heads after the thing.

Steve’s hand is grasped, shaken, held. Steve smiles. Wants to roll up the long sleeves to see if he’s covered in the bats he saw during filming.

“I’m Eddie,” Eddie says, breathes really.

And oh wow. Wow.

Steve doesn’t let go, and neither does Eddie.

“I heard you make a mean lasagna.”

A smile splits Eddie’s pretty mouth. “That so? I wonder who said that.”

“Somebody who loves his nephew a whole lot.”

“Huh, no idea. Could you clue me in?”

Steve steps closer. “Think a little harder? Maybe you forgot.”

“Maybe,” Eddie says, and though it’s soft, it’s undeniable. “Always forgetting things, that’s me.”

It’s him.

Wayne passes them by again, taking another bag from Eddie’s hands. Eddie sets the rest down at their feet, sparkling, dark eyes never leaving Steve’s.

“Steve here’s an actor. Eddie, weren’t you telling me you had a gig down in LA with the band a few weeks back? What a coincidence, that.” He keeps walking.

Steve watches him go inside, Garfield hopping happily after him.

When he turns back around, Eddie’s close enough he can feel his breath.

Steve glances at his lips. Sees them bend with amusement.

“It’s funny.”

“What is?”

“King Steve, here in my uncle’s humble abode. What a surprise.”

King Steve is as close a moniker he’s ever received working in the industry. An irony that’s followed him from high school into adulthood, even though the two weren’t connected.

And something inside Steve breaks apart, blooms, shines.

It’s him.

Eddie reaches up, traces a thumb along his bottom lip.

“I think we’ve met.”

“I think you’re right.”

“Care to stay for some homemade cooking, your liege? I think we have a lot to talk about.”

The thumb at his lip dips, goes inside his mouth, briefly makes contact with Steve’s tongue. He wants to suck on it, wants to do a whole lot more.

“We definitely do.”

Eddie’s hand falls away. He picks up a few bags and lets Steve take the others.

And as Steve follows Eddie Munson, his mystery guy, inside it hits him all at once. A punch to the solar plexus.

Just knew you’d be so good for me. Could tell the first day I ever saw you.

He knows him.

You showed LA who’s king.

Not just from the shoot.

“Oh my God, I know you! We know each other!”

Eddie Munson, the guy who walked over lunch tables and caused a scene. The guy Tommy shoved into lockers. The guy who dealt at every party. The guy who wore denim and leather and was in a band. The guy Steve watched, who watched him right back.

Wanted you forever.

I was actually jealous, and look at us now.

Can’t believe how lucky I am.

I’ll remember this forever, sweetheart.

And Steve hurries in after him as Eddie’s knowing, familiar laughter leads the way.

[jarofstyles]

Reaper 9

Reaper is a dark story with dark and mature subject matter. 18+ NSFW

Helloooooo we think you'll really enjoy this chapter. Reaper's got love goggles on.

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wc: 9.8k

warnings: fluffy chapter <3, alluding to smuty things, intimate conversations

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Harry was in a mood.

Y/N could tell from his one word responses over text and his grumpy voice over the phone.

He was not happy to have Bunny back at culinary school. It would have been so much easier if she was in his sight, but he got a call in today from the shop that required his attention.

He had been putting off wrapping this woman’s car for too long, he hated himself for being a man of his word sometimes. But duty calls. The admin work had been piling up and as much as he wanted to stay tucked away in this happy space he needed to visit the shop.

“Come on, we can’t let him think he got to us. It’s class, he won’t pull anything in public. Plus, I really don’t want to miss the cream puffs lesson.” He remembered her pout. The way she blinked before telling him he needed to trust his own brothers.

She was right. If he expected her to trust them he should trust them as well. It was just different with her. Reluctantly he sent Bunny off to classes with Viper on watch and Kid playing pretend student outside the door of the classroom.

It still didn’t make him feel much better, leaving her in the hands of others while he drove to the shop.

Harry didn’t like that it had happened this way. Of course, he knew that things always had the potential to backfire- but he had hoped that this guy would see that Y/N was with him and perhaps fuck off. It was to coax him out, yeah, but they’d never anticipated that he would have the smarts to gain access to Harry’s building. Nor the audacity.

Apparently, the true psycho had a lot of it.

He had been watching the clock carefully as he waited for the time to get closer to their check in. He waited every hour on the hour for her little emoji to be texted to him, his nerves getting to him all day.

Truthfully, Harry had been thinking a lot about the note. He didn’t give a fuck if the guy was after him. That was something that he didn’t mind. He’s had people come after him more than once and they’d probably do it again. He cared about Bunny and her safety. He could protect himself. She couldn’t. Not fully.

H: you good?

H: ???

Harry sent the question mark after, a spark of nerves in his belly plugging up when he knew she was supposed to be out of class now and still hadn’t answered him. Paranoia didn’t suit him well and yet, here he was.

“Okay little rabbit, you go in there first. He’s probably sweating bullets.” Viper chuckled as he helped Bunny off his bike. Kid was scoping the area already, but these ends of the city were safe. Most people would never think to come out here, it’s why Harry set up shop. It was quiet and hidden. No one would think twice about a mechanic shop in a more residential part of the city.

Y/N was excited to see him after a long day, especially at his shop. It had been years since she had been able to watch him work, it used to be one of her favorite activities. Granted, it was usually in a hot sweaty garage and her brother was there, but this? This was a new sight.

He was so focused, working out the air pockets in the wrap to the sounds of Ozzy Osborne. He hummed along to the tune, wiping the sweat from his forehead with the back of his wrist before going to check his phone again.

Where could she be?

“Looking for me?” Bunny decided to end his misery, wrapping her arms around him from behind and shoving her face into his sweaty back. She loved his smell, completely disregarding his protests about wanting to feel fresh for her.

Harry stiffened for a moment, but his body lit up in tiny sparks as he saw familiar rings on the hands wrapped around him. Her face rubbed against his shirt, making him wince. He knew he was sweaty, the towel on the side proving that, but she didn’t seem to mind.

“Took too long t’answer me.” He grumbled, turning himself around and feeling her chin test on his chest as she looked at him. Her pretty, long eyelashes and the sparkle from the shimmery makeup she always put on the end of her nose, soft lips looking like the most inviting little berries. He couldn’t stay too angry with her when she looked up at him like she was over the moon just to see him.

“I’m sorry, sir. It won’t happen again. Promise.” She purred, stretching up to lock their lips together, her hand curling over the nape of his neck. He was shocked by her audacity but melted into it, quickly taking control of the kiss as he reached to hold her chin, tugging it slightly down so he could taste inside of her mouth. He was both oblivious and uncaring of the other men in the garage, lifting his free hand to give them the middle finger as he heard hoots and whistles.

“Can’t fix everything with those bunny eyes and hot little kisses.” He turned them from view, hand coming down for a little swat against her ass. She jumped with a squeak, the little burn making her smile. He handled her rough, sure, but with care. He’d never hurt her.

“I can try.”

Y/N felt relieved to be in his presence again, she didn’t even care about the hoots and whistles. If anything she felt proud to be the girl Reaper had on his arm.

“Okay love birds,” Viper called from behind them. “I’m going to head back, got a couple of things I need to do. If you need Kid to stick around and watch the outside, he can. He’s really been on this case so use him for anything you need.” The man had always been proud of his son, he had good morals despite the evils he witnessed as a kid. He was incredibly smart, picked up on everything. There was no one Viper trusted more than his own flesh and blood.

Bunny wiped her bottom lip off with her thumb, looking up between Harry and Viper as the two decided on the plans. She had fully zoned out, taking the time to admire the shop. It seemed exactly like something Harry would own. Simple, but full of necessary tools. Black on black, hints of red and white. It wasn’t all about aesthetics for him, but she could tell he liked the way the place was decorated. He seemed at home here.

“See you later, little rabbit. Behave!” Viper’s goodbye pulled her from her thoughts, looking back up at her… well. She wasn’t sure what to call him.

“How was your class?”

She had made it back to him in one piece. That itself was a relief, seeing her secure and happy. He’d never really brought her inside the garage before. She’s come before with Sterling and was outside, she’d gone in the lobby to use the bathroom, but she hadn’t been around in quite a while.

“Good. Easy. I’ve got cream puffs in a cooler in the truck.” She chirped, swiveling her head around to the car he was working on. It was half wrapped in a hot neon pink and while Y/N was 100% a pink girl… this shade was highlighter quality.

“Is this the big deal car?” She asked, raising a brow as she walked closer to it. A sports car, not something Harry cared too much about. His legs were too long for this model as it was.

“Yep. She’s paying double to have it done today. I’m halfway through.” He patted the top. It was probably good that Bunny was here, Kid outside. Otherwise, he was pretty convinced the woman would try and jump his bones. “The woman was real insistent I was the only one who worked on the car.” The panties left in the backseat looked to be for him but he had used a wrench to shove them under the seat. Not his problem.

Bunny raised her brows and nodded slowly, fully understanding the game of this woman. She had money and presumably thought Harry was in need of it, but also thought he was in need of her pussy. Frankly, Y/N wasn’t impressed, but she trusted Harry and knew that there was nothing this woman could really do to him.

Y/N never thought of herself as the jealous type, but the thought of this woman trying to hit on Harry enraged her. She knew the way these types of women were and while she was a girls girl, in this case? That was null and void.

“How long do you think it will take? I don’t want to be a distraction.” She knew the quicker he got it done the quicker they could be snuggled up comfortably in their new bedroom. “Is it okay if I look around? I’ll come back when I get bored.” Bunny knew she’d just sit there drooling over him if she stayed in the shop. She wasn’t sure she’d be able to control herself, she could barely keep her hands off him as is.

“Mmm,” Harry gave her a questioning look before deciding it was safe. He wanted to give her freedom where he could. Besides, the shop was probably the safest place for her to be. No one had been here before. “Go ahead, baby, just shout if you need me.” He knew he would hear her even over the music.

Y/N was snooping around. She was nosy, but she came by it honestly. She could see awards they’d won for their garage, photos of a stoic Harry and Sterling accepting them- and some of them smiling with their bikes a few years ago.

Her heart hurt seeing her brother smiling. Since their dad passed away, he hadn’t been the same. His long time girlfriend left him and his father was dead, he felt so much and expressed so little. It was partially why she had transferred back. She was homesick and she hadn’t wanted to leave her mother alone. Their mother and father had a very odd relationship, but she had been devastated. Bunny didn’t want to leave her all by herself when she was already missing home at the school a few hours north, so she made the decision to come back and finish her degree at the community college.

Sterling had been very happy to have her back but he didn’t stick around too long. Harry had been keeping watch for a long time since then but she knew that her brother cared. It did feel a little like abandonment but she also cursed her empathetic heart, knowing he must have felt like he failed now that she knew the true reason her father passed away.

Sterling was a great big brother. And whenever he came back- he was going to be pissed as shit that she was with Harry. It wasn’t fake anymore- at least not on her end. Bunny was pretty confident Harry couldn’t fake the level of intimacy and chemistry they had, but they’d figure that out later. She was just happy to have him now.

She left the office and grabbed a water bottle for him from the fridge in the break room, walking back out to see him working under a car. His hair was tied up and he had some grease near his eyebrow, his shirt wet with sweat… and god, she felt it straight between her thighs.

Y/N was an appreciator of a lot of different types of people, but the pure sex that oozed off of him right now was making her want to drool.

She walked closer to the car, hoping the sound of her shoes against the concrete floors would get his attention. The last thing she wanted was to spook him while he was under a car, no matter how securely it was raised off the ground.

“I brought you water,” Y/N cooed, taking a look at the car that was seemingly flawless. “The wrap looks great, what are you doing under there?” Bunny was curious. She knew enough things about cars to help her if she ever got stranded out on the highway but never did she need to use those skills. Harry or Sterling were always a call away.

Harry could tell by the look on her face she was starting to get impatient but he wanted to make sure he got all of this out of the way.

“Nearly done, pretty girl.” Harry reached for the cold water bottle. “Know you wanna get going, but she’s going to be here to pick up this car any minute and I want to make sure she doesn’t call me up again this week asking to fix something else…. These cars aren’t practical at all, don’t know why people buy them.” Harry certainly didn’t have the time or patients for a car like this. It was one very expensive hobby.

“Why aren’t they practical? Aren’t they just meant to be sports cars?” Bunny leaned against the standing toolbox as Harry sat up, the sliding board coming with him as he wiped away some of the sweat.

Yummy.

“Yeah, they’re supposed t’be cars you take out for an occasion. At least when they’re built like this. She uses it as a daily car and they’re not built for that. Some sports cars can deal with it but not this one.” It was one of his least favorite models as it was, and the woman was on his ass trying to get with him.

“Oh.” Bunny scrunched her nose. “I’m no expert in cars, but you’ve told her that I’m assuming?” She took a drink of her own water bottle trying to quench the thirst she felt for Harry in this moment. She suddenly got the thing that girls said, seeing a man doing his job… a manly job, it did things to her. Down and dirty, messy hands and shirt. Damn.

She couldn’t blame women for drooling after him if they saw him here. All inked and toned and his hair long and pretty. That didn’t mean she liked it. “I think she’s gonna be here in a minute. Can y’go to my desk and grab her invoice for me?” He was enjoying her staring at him quite a bit, but he knew if she didn’t walk away for a bit he would be doing some not so appropriate things.

“Yeah, sure.” Y/N nodded and cleared her throat a bit before making her way back to the office she had just come from. She tried to fix it up for him a bit, organize some things so he wouldn’t feel overwhelmed walking in there. She knew she would have.

Having put the invoice at the top of the pile, she made her way back to the garage as she read over the name.

“Regina Devington?” She read out loud, ready to laugh at the ridiculousness of the name until a high pitched voice interrupted her thoughts.

“Yes?” The woman turned to face her, already standing too close to Harry for Bunny’s liking. Clad in a fur coat, Y/N wondered if she realized she was in Vegas. Surely the heat outside would suggest it wasn’t fur coat weather, but it seemed she loved attention of any kind. Hence the bright pink sports car.

Bunny didn’t feel so bad about hating on her now, everything she had learned about her in the past hour had been more than enough justification.

“I’ve got your invoice.” She was quick on her feet, handing it over to her and gently nudging Harry’s arm to slide herself underneath it. Her body leaned against his, not minding the sweat in the slightest as she wrapped her arm around his back.

It was obvious it spooked the woman, a bit of a displeased tinge coming to her face as she watched Harry relax with Bunny looking up at him. It made her arch a brow, looking between them and then back up at the man’s face.

“Who is this? I’ve never seen this employee around.” A false smile covered her lips as she had a hard time hiding her distaste. She had been after Harry for a while, so seeing a girl snuggled up to him wasn’t ideal.

“S’my girlfriend, Bunny.” He said easily, running his hand over her side with his face softening just a bit at the mention of his girl.

“Girlfriend?” Regina was surprised. Last time she’d visited Harry he didn’t mention anything about seeing someone.

“It’s nice to meet you! I don’t come around the shop often, but I love the new wrap on your car— pink’s my favorite color too.” Bunny smiled at her, figuring the best way to crush her spirit was with kindness. She wasn’t lying, she did think pink was cool. She would personally never do that shade, but it was still cool.

Regina’s fake smile curdled, giving her a curt smile in response to the compliment. The idea of the two of them getting together since she last saw him made her blood boil.

“Thought Reaper didn’t do relationships?” Regina repeated his words back to him, tilting her head a bit at him.

“I didn’t. Not until her.” He pressed a kiss to her temple, not minding staking a claim in front of her. He would do it in front of anyone. Bunny didn’t seem to mind, shooting one of her smiles at the woman that was almost a bit smug. “The right woman can tame any man.”

His words were fond, not at all hiding the fact he was fond of her. Anyone else may think he was laying it on thick but it was a moment he allowed the veil of indifference to lift. Maybe it would get her to fuck off- but it did feel nice to have someone see Bunny outside of the MC life.

“Well… I wouldn’t call you tame.” Bunny giggled, knowing damn well what she was doing. She wasn’t afraid to flaunt a bit in front of the woman, knowing that she had been gagging for Harry. He was hers. The jealousy in her stomach was quelled with his squeeze to her hip, a little laugh escaping him.

He quite liked Bunny’s subtle jealousy. It was hot.

Regina’s mouth dropped open slightly, surprisingly keeping in the scoff that threatened to creep out. She couldn’t imagine how that worked, the girl wasn’t at all how she imagined his type to be.

“Is it ready though?” She interrupted their cutesy moment, wanting to get out of there as soon as possible. Regina hadn’t felt rejection like this in a very long time, it would take a while for her ego to recover. “Here’s the cash.”

Y/N hadn’t seen that much cash before. The wad of bills in Harry’s palm made her eyes widen. Who carried that much on them? There were too many questions running through her head while Harry handed Regina the keys.

Bunny stood there watching Harry lower the car down from the lift, glancing over at Regina to see she was tapping her foot on the floor. Anxious? Angry? How interesting.

Harry could feel the tension bubbling between the woman who thought she had a chance and the only woman who ever did.

It was comical in a way, but he felt a tad bit guilty for enjoying Bunny stake a claim the way she did. In a sense, he felt like her jealousy and her need to prove Harry was hers was more hope towards this being a long term thing. He wasn’t necessarily a catch, in his eyes. He had been prepared to be alone the rest of his life because the shit he was wrapped up in was dangerous, he had anger issues and what he thought was an allergy to commitment besides to the club.

Seeing her be a bit catty, even if her version of it was just being a bit smug? It made him feel… desired. A warm flush under his skin made him giddy, lowering the car completely and letting the woman take a look.

He had to fight back a smile when Bunny returned to his side, pressing a kiss to his lips before he handed her the cash. “Can y’put this in the office while I give her a rundown on what I did? Just get the right change, don’t worry about the coins. Round up.”

Regina waited until Bunny was past the doors into the hallway before approaching Harry again.

“Never thought that was your type, wouldn’t you prefer someone who is more your speed?”

Harry couldn’t believe this woman was still on it, his brows lifting at the nerve. He would never hit a woman, never, but he could still use his words. He didn’t mind losing a customer who was going to belittle his Bunny.

“Listen, Regina. I’m not interested.” Harry’s tone was pointed. “While I appreciate you comin’ here to get your car fixed, coming in here every week isn’t going to get you laid.” Harry kept his eyes on hers so she got the point. “Now, if you’d like to hear what I’ve done on it…” He trailed off, watching the rage fill the woman’s eyes.

“I’ve got your change!” Bunny called as she pushed through the doors, not liking the distance between them.

Her brows raised before she all but shoved the envelope with her receipt and her change into her hands, placing herself as a barrier in between Harry and the woman. Harry had looked a bit pissed off and the woman too, but more so hurt. She didn’t know why but she knew his jaw was clenched.

“Have a nice night.” She said, tilting her head to the side as she turned around and effectively dismissed her. “Now… what are we doing for dinner?” Her hand reached up to his face, thumb rubbing some of the grease from the brow.

Harry couldn’t help but chuckle, ignoring the slam of the car door and the shitty little sports car peeling back out of the garage. Y/N was possessive and it felt nice to not be the only one who felt a bit aggressive when other people looked at her. “You’re cute.” He murmured, placing a hand on her waist to squeeze it. “Adorable, really. You’re the chef. Y’can let me know what we’re eating.”

“Well I wanted to suggest we get some take out or go somewhere if you wanna… for a change.” She felt a bit shy asking him, but she wanted to do something for him. Take him to a place in town that she loved, a place he probably wouldn’t go without invitation.

Bunny’s hands rested flat against his chest, gently toying with the distressed fabric of the top. It was one he wore often, his favorite shirt to work in. Something about the way the fabric let him breathe, the way it sat on his shoulders perfectly worn in. It had a few holes and was covered in grease and oil stains but he wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Besides, I know you’d rather be at your place rather than the clubhouse…” She knew he felt on edge there, even though he knew it was the safest place. The memories there haunted him, she could tell he wasn’t fully relaxed. “So maybe going out would be fun.”

His chest buzzed under the fabric, her heated hands soothing a bit of the ache he had felt being away from her today. He had been turning into a goddamn sap, a paranoid freak constantly checking his phone and not letting them crank the music in the garage until it was confirmed by Kid that they’d left the school. He wasn’t weak for many things at all, but Bunny seemed to hold more power in her small fingers than he did in his body when it came to his self control.

“Hm… that is true.” He also didn’t want the rest of them sniffing around the food. Usually, he wouldn’t have assumed but Bunny had been so excited about cooking for him before, adamant it wasn’t a problem so he had fallen into that routine the last few weeks.

A break for her? He was all for it. Though he doubted anything they could get was anything close to her caliber of food.

“Why don’t we take a bit of a drive out… go into Vegas and grab something overpriced.” He suggested. “A buffet or… a nice place.” It would still be too much money but he got flutters in his stomach at the idea of taking her on what could be considered a date.

He felt guilty that he hadn’t been able to take her on a proper one thus far but with the prevailing conditions, he knew it would be hard. If they had someone tail them into Vegas, though, they should be fine. It wasn’t more than 40 minutes out.

Bunny’s eyes lit up at the idea. It was even better than what she had originally planned. An evening out on the strip with her lover? What more could she ask for?

“Yeah? You want to?” She almost couldn’t believe it, an actual date. Not that she didn’t love their nights in, but being out and about with him was a feeling she couldn’t quite describe. It first showed it’s head when they’d gone to the Silver Spoon for breakfast, again when he kissed her in the parking lot, and again at the mall. It was special.

“Of course I want to.” Harry’s voice was quiet, a gentle smile appearing on his face as he tucked a few pieces of hair behind her ears. “Let me clean up here a little bit and we’ll go back and get ready yeah? You can pick the place. Anywhere you want.”

There had been so many places Bunny had wanted to go, she wasn’t sure how she would narrow it down. Of course, Vic & Anthony’s steakhouse was the first to come to mind. Harry did love a good steak.

—

The wind felt so good on her face. Driving down the freeway, she clung to Harry’s back. His bike weaves through traffic, aware of the fact that they’d definitely lost their tail but they’d meet up again in the city. He wanted to treat her to the real experience and perks of taking a bike. Being able to move through traffic and the wind cooling her from the setting desert sun.

Harry was effortless in the way he drove. It was something else she found attractive about him. His hand signals as he turned and the thrum of the bike under her thighs, she pressed a kiss to the back of his cut. He wouldn’t feel it, but she felt good doing it. The worn leather was cool under her lips, but she felt grounded even with them flying through, Harry’s radio blasting while they made their moves.

Her helmet wasn’t one of the full coverage ones like Harry’s that helped dust stay from his eyes, her helmet opting to let wind blow over her face and sunglasses hiding her eyes.

His gloved hand rested over her smaller one that held herself to him and squeezed twice- his way of asking if she was good. Y/N felt the warm and fuzzies at the wordless communication, squeezing herself back against him to confirm she was okay. They were almost into the city and he was feeling nerves rising in his stomach as he realized they were most definitely on a date, but neither of them said the actual word.

The bright lights intensified as they approached the strip, the razzle dazzle of Vegas never failed to disappoint Bunny. She had good memories in the city, despite how touristy it was, there were places that even she as a local could feel like a tourist in her own town.

She’d never been here with Harry. There was something so intimate about being with him here. It’s like the two of them weren’t meant to be there at the same time, but yet here they were. No one was staring at them while they walked down the street holding hands, in fact, they only looked surprised to see a man with a cut in such a fancy establishment.

Harry could tell Bunny was excited to be out. She had a little wiggle in her step almost as if she was ready to hop. It was cute, he thought- smiling at her, endeared. His thumb rubbed over the back of her hand, as they approached the hostess. He let Bunny take the lead on this one.

“Hi! We have a table reserved under Styles, please.” She chirped, bouncing on the balls of her feet before settling back down.

To anyone else, the sight of them together was a bit comical. His surly, cold face and dark demeanor paired with the bubbly sweetness of the lighthearted girl next to him, it was a complete contrast and seemed to be out of a book. It was real, though, her pink top made out of a slight shimmery material and his mostly black smoothed over his body.

“Uh- yes! Yes, this way please.” Usually, the man’s heavy biker boots wouldn’t be deemed as acceptable attire but the hostess didn’t want to risk pissing him off. She doubted anyone would.

Harry gave her the soothing, soft touches while she followed behind the hostess, her hair bouncing as she had taken it out of the temporary ponytail she needed to ride. She was so excited and her visible happiness went straight to his gut. That unfamiliar taffy pink, softly pulled apart feeling becomes more and more recognizable as her.

“Here you are,“ The table was in a more private area of the restaurant, a covered room just for them. “Enjoy your dinner.” The hostess spoke with a smile, welcoming the two tails hesitantly as they came to stand guard.

Bunny was in awe as she looked around. She’d always wondered what it would be like to eat here, but never did she imagine she’d be here with Harry.

Though he had never taken a woman out for dinner, he wasn’t a complete idiot, his hand immediately going to pull out the chair for her while she looked around.

“Do you like it?” He asked, his voice sounded almost shy. Sure, he didn’t fit in here but he wanted nothing but the best for his Bunny. He wanted it to be perfect. After all, this was their first date.

As fond as he was of their first breakfast date at the Silver Spoon, the nerves he had now told him that this was far more important than any other dinner he’s ever had. His heartbeat picked up a bit, watching as Bunny took her place in her chair. He smelled wonderful, looked even better, he was starting to think he should have put on a suit for once. No— he was thinking too much.

He didn’t know how to do all of this shit. But he wanted to learn for her.

Every other part of his life was murky and dark and for the time he got to spend with her, it was bright. Softened. Sweet. He wanted her to feel the same way with him, even if he wasn’t sure how to express it properly.

His old normal used to be fucking people over the hood of cars, dark alley’s, bathrooms, he didn’t really care if he was getting his dick wet. He had enjoyed sex mainly for pleasure.

Now he wanted to impress Y/N. Do the flowers and hearts and shit. She was the only one he realistically thought he would ever want to do the mushy shit with. Now seeing it happen in real time, he felt a nerve budge up in his stomach.

“I do! It’s perfect, Harry.” She said softly, bringing his hand to her face to kiss the back of it before he made his way to his seat. “I haven’t gone out to a good dinner in forever. Since dad was alive, I think. And never a good date.”

This had Harry blushing. He tried his best to look away but he knew she had caught him smiling to himself with reddened cheeks.

Y/N was in the same boat, smiling so hard her cheeks started to hurt as she looked down at the menu to give him a brief moment to collect himself. It was sweet. She had no idea how he was feeling about this date until now.

“Order anything you’d like, can even order something for me to be honest— I think you know your way around these menus better than I do.” Harry was a bit overwhelmed by the selections and fancy names of things. “Like what the fuck does confit mean?”

Bunny snorted a little at his pronunciation, scrunching her nose before responding.

“It means it’s cooked slowly in liquid over a long period of time. I’m sure it’s good, but I’m thinking…” She trailed off scanning the menu, “We could get a bunch of stuff to share? So we can try everything that looks good.”

It was then that Harry let Bunny go off on a little tangent, explaining every dish and how it would be prepared so he could see if he liked the flavor and texture of things. None of it really mattered to him, but listening to her go on was too adorable and he didn’t have the heart to stop her.

Seeing her be passionate was incredible. She was just really, really lovely and Harry felt that fondness seeping into his bones. Resting his chin on his folded hands, he listened to every little word, smiling slightly as she told him about her experiences cooking some of this stuff and others that she wanted to learn to do better.

His little chef.

In this situation it was easy to forget that when they left they were going back to the clubhouse. That some sicko was after her. A sicko that didn’t even feel remotely threatened that a man like the Reaper was her boyfriend. Even if it had been fake in the beginning it obviously wasn’t now. The guy was crazy.

He didn’t let himself dwell on the anger that settled like a rock in his gut. Instead he was attentive to her talking, listening to each word that fell from her cherry mouth.

The food came and Harry was genuinely stumped. He usually ate quick easy meals, noodles, take out, baked potatoes and steak. Filling and easy. The grill was his best friend.

All of this looked Intimidating.

“You’re gonna have t’walk me through this shit, babe. Dunno what half of this is.”

“Okay I know it looks odd because it’s plated in a different way, but you’ve had all this before.” Bunny giggled, “So this is a  Porterhouse steak. It’s big so I figured that would be enough for us both, but just in case you wanted more I also got a Wagyu because it’s meant to be the best steak in the world— don’t eat it with sauce! It’s perfect on its own.” Y/N pointed to the two steaks on the table. “I know you like potatoes so I got two kinds, this is basically mashed and the other is whole potatoes roasted in lots of yummy butter and herbs.”

“Then I also got us vegetables. Asparagus, broccoli, carrots… oh! The Lobster Mac and cheese. I’m not sure how you feel about seafood but you gotta try.” Y/N was practically bouncing in her seat. “And the crab legs. That’s everything I think… if we are still hungry we can always get more.”

The bill would be incredibly large but Harry wasn’t shy about spending money on Bunny. He always reminded her of the fact. She was under the mentality of wanting to go big since he had likely never been to a dinner like this and she wanted him to have nothing but the best.

“Dig in baby.”

The food was really fucking good.

But what was better, was seeing Y/N do a little dance each time she took a bite of something she liked. Her little hum, sometimes a moan. Sweet little thing she was, she would gush about it and tell Harry to try a bite immediately.

Being the man he was, he did exactly as she asked and nodded in agreement. The food was decadent and cooked very well. He was a fan of nearly all of it but the crab legs. He was pretty sure it was mostly mental, though.

“Sorry. M’not eating the thing out of the shell. It feels weird. Cannibalistic.”

“That is insane, H.” Bunny gave him a scrunched nose, shaking her head. “Don’t say that while I’m in the middle of eating one.”

“Can’t help it. I like the lobster Mac n’Cheese though.” At least that was already out of the shell.

“Okay, if I crack it open for you and put it on your plate will you try it?” She asked sweetly, tilting her head at him. Bunny batted her eyelashes, hoping that the look she was giving him would be enough to convince him. “If you like the lobster you’ll like the crab too. It’s sweet.”

It was surprising to her that he wasn’t a fan of cracking the legs open and eating them, for some reason that sounded like something reaper would be a fan of. It seemed the reaper had a soft spot for helpless crustaceans.

“Here, just close your eyes. I’ll feed you the perfect bite.” She waited for him to close his eyes before dipping the meat into some melted butter, getting a roasted potato to follow. With ease, she guided it into his mouth, using her thumb to wipe off the dripping sauce and pushed it against his lips.

It was good, yes. But he couldn’t help but feel an aversion considering it had been a brain work now. He did, however, like how she fed him. Her thumb brushed against his lip.

“Don’t like the crab, but I like when ya touch me.” He rasped, smirking at her as he opened his eyes, he grabbed a drink of his water before he scooted a bit closer to her, eyes locked on her face.

“Gorgeous fucking girl. It’s ridiculous.” He said under his breath. The dim light of the restaurant was annoying because he couldn’t see her all the way properly, but he found that any light would make him dip his toe a bit deeper into uncharted waters for her.

Bunny’s cheeks warmed, thankful he couldn’t fully see it. “I think you’re lying.” She teased, brushing her hand over his wrist. “But you’re a big baby. You don’t have t’eat it if you don’t want to.”

This man smashed skulls but he didn’t like opening up a crab leg. An enigma, that’s what he was.

————-

After stuffing themselves full of the most indulgent meal, it was time to make their way back to the clubhouse. While Y/N worked to convince Harry to get some dessert, it didn’t take that much. He had wanted to delay going back there for as long as possible.

Here in the city things felt different, their minds completely free. The two of them focused on nothing but one another just the way Harry liked it. The sweet flavors settled in his stomach as he revved his engine, signaling to their trailers that they were ready to head back.

It was peaceful on the open road back into their town. The stars were bright in the sky, the moon shining down on them as they began to see the glow of him in the distance. Harry didn’t want this evening's softness to end, her grip around his waist reminding him of the even softer girl clung against him.

He wanted to give her the most romantic evening he could, but there wasn’t much else he could do here in the club house.

Sometimes he felt bad about it. He felt guilt. A lot of feelings he wallowed in, wanting to be better, to provide more and make her happier. He was sort of fucked in some ways, though.

Would he have even gone after her if the stalker hadn’t come for her? He wasn’t sure. He did know that the whole idea, the whole concept of going after his best friend’s younger sister was fucked. But it hadn’t always made him feel hesitant. The one thing that did was the fact he lived so dangerously.

Now that she had no choice but to live in it, he felt like that barrier had been shattered. The walls remain laid out like shards of glass that he occasionally stepped on and winced at, the knowledge that she was now in a spot she never really should have been being a blessing and a curse.

As much of a complete dick as Harry knew himself to be, he never wanted her in this life. He wasn’t going to be selfish before this. Now, though? He knew he could keep her safe. He would die for her. She meant the entire world to him.

It hadn’t been a long time in the grand scheme of things, and he knew that perhaps time was limited, but he wanted to keep going. He wanted to keep her as long as she would let him in this darker side of life, his one ray of sunshine keeping him warm. He could only hope he did the same for her.

“D’ya want to watch a movie on my laptop?” He asked quietly as he stripped off his shirt, scratching right above the waistline of his pants. The inked skin caught her attention as usual. “I know riding can make y’tired.”

“Mmm sure,” Bunny’s eyes trailed up his body. It seemed she was still hungry for something else, eyes flickering to catch his stare once again. It didn’t match her intensity the way she expected it, but she decided to carry on nonetheless.

Making sure the door was locked, Bunny made her way over to him, turning around and pushing her hair to the side for him to take the dress off of her.

“Could you help me with this, baby?” She asked sweetly, letting her bum stick out just a little bit. Harry noticed. How could he not? What was more out of character for him was the fact that he wasn’t so focused on it, but rather, how beautiful she was.

Harry didn’t spend much time fully in the moment, but right now he was following his gut. His nimble fingers moved to button and unzip the dress, revealing slivers of lace Harry had not seen before. The evening was definitely special to her, he gathered that much.

There was no need to rush, no need to grab and be harsh. It was his sweet Bunny, the one that deserved to be loved on. He was always the one saying that, he figured he should give it a try.

“Look how pretty you are.” He sighed, knuckle rubbing over the side of her stomach. “Pretty girl. You looked perfect tonight.” His whole face was fond, locked away in this room allowing a slight tinge of the vulnerability to show on his face. He was so fond of her it was ridiculous.

Harry didn’t know how to form solid bonds much with women. His mother had been too worried about other things and her next fix and his aunt had taken him solely based off of duty, too worried about her own children to care too much about anything other than Harry’s very bare minimal needs being met. He knew it hindered his view on most.

He was fond of her mother and her since they met because they’d been the first real warm feminine figures in his life. Helping him get over that bitterness. But Y/N, his soft little Bunny, that bond had shifted to something romantic.

It scared him as much as it excited him. He’s never had a want to be tender with someone in his whole life. Now that their situation has shifted into what definitely was more than make believe, he was trying to figure out how to treat her. To follow instincts of things he suddenly wanted to do.

While yes, he always wanted to fuck her, tonight felt a bit more intimate than just another rough romp in bed. Their sex had always been full of passion but he felt like maybe they needed a night to just be.

“C’mere.’” He pulled her towards him and knocked his fingers against her chin to tilt it up, meeting her eyes. “There she is. Sweet little Bunny. Y’had fun, yeah?” He asked again. “I just… never did anything like that before. Want to make sure you liked it.”

“Of course I did.” Bunny could feel the tightness of her wide smile, thinking back to the meal they shared and how much she enjoyed his presence. The look on his face every time he took a bite, watching him decide how he felt about the flavor for a split second before the bliss hit.

“I wouldn’t have wanted to do it with anyone else.” Bunny really meant that. It was always a fantasy for her to have gone out to a fancy expensive dinner with a future partner, but never had she expected it to be fulfilled by Harry.

It was like a dream come true, though it was better than she could have imagined. Bunny couldn’t quite explain herself in words, her hands itching to be on him and feel more of him.

She just wanted to feel physically close, already missing the feeling of having him inside of her. Sex had always been the easiest way for her to communicate her feelings, it helped that it was their common language.

“Good.” He murmured. “I’ve never done that type of shit before. Gone to a fancy place or made a reservation.” His admission wasn’t exactly a shock, but his slight shyness was.

Harry was a rock. Unshakable and steady, even if sometimes his anger made him a bit of a firecracker. For her, he had always been the one person she never thought of getting nervous or unsure. He carried himself in such a strong, postured way, that seeing this little hint of something else was even more interesting.

“You did a fantastic job.” Her voice was soft, stroking her hands over his warm shoulders. “I don’t need to go to fancy dinners all the time, but I like that you thought of it. That you asked me.” It was something she had always secretly dreamt of but never thought would come into fruition.

It wasn’t like he turned into a Prince Charming overnight. He had told 3 people to fuck off while they were in Vegas, he didn’t have the most amazing table manners, but in this night he really felt like he was hers.

“I just…” he licked his bottom lip, a bit of worry flashing over his eyes. “I want t’make sure you’re happy. I know things are fucked right now. I do. But you deserve the best shit. I’m not always sure how to give it to you but I’m trying.”

“I promise you…. I’m the happiest I’ve been in a while.” Bunny was telling the truth. There wasn’t much going on in her life since she started culinary school. Sure, the usual things like going out with her friends and movie nights with her mom, but nothing quite like the deep love she had found with Harry.

She couldn’t even blame it on the situation at hand, she was positive if she had spent any more time with him that eventually, she’d win him over. Of course, this wasn’t the most ideal situation, but somehow, it was proving to be a defining moment in her life. Maybe it was trauma bonding, but honestly, Harry had always been her rock. It was a shame that this is what it took to get them here.

Her hand moved up against his skin, finding its way against his neck. The dress she was wearing had slipped right off of her body in the process, now standing on her toes.

“Just like having you here, with me…” Her voice was quiet, sultry as she leaned in to seal their lips in a kiss. It was tender, different from their usual passion fueled kisses. It had Bunny’s stomach fluttering. The intimacy of it all was getting her excited. She couldn’t get close enough to him.

Harry was pleased. More than so.

His hand curled around her waist, bringing her soft body close to her own. He relished in the feel of her plushy lips against his, tasting the remnants of the dessert wine. She was so sweet, a soft little dreamy sigh leaving her mouth against his own.

His fingers brushed over her cheek as he pulled back, a private smile given to her before pressing a wet peck to her nose. “C’mon. Come lay with me.”

There were rowdy noises coming from downstairs, but he was stuck in the sounds of her. A little giggle as she moved down on the bed and surprised him, getting on top of him and physically placing his hands on her ass.

He wouldn’t complain. He would make out with her until the sun came up, squeezing her ass before moving up to her back. Stroking the smooth skin with his fingertips, a soothing rhythm that had her breaking out in chills.

Something about his touch felt different and it left Bunny unable to fully relax as she tried to decipher why he wasn’t giving into any of her leads. Normally, he would have given in by now, between the dress, the kiss, and the hands on her ass.

The kiss felt nice, his touch even more so, but it wasn’t something she was used to. His fingertips brushed against her as if she was porcelain, gripping her hips just enough to steady them before placing his hands against the span of her thighs.

Bunny’s kisses left Harry feeling breathless, pulling away momentarily just to get a look at her in this state. His eyes fluttered open and scanned over her face, admiring all the features he’d committed to memory by this point. It wasn’t until his eyes landed back on her that his brows furrowed. She looked confused.

“Everything okay?” He asked cautiously, worried he’d managed to mess something up in the past few moments.

“Do you….” She tilted her head, looking a little nervous. “Do you not want me tonight?”

She winced as soon as she said it. Of course that wasn’t exactly what she meant but usually he was ripping her clothes off. Pinning her down. She was used to feeling desired by him with his roughness and insatiability. He was being so gentle and tender tonight, almost like he was trying to ignore the way she tried to kiss him harder.

“I always want you.” He said, sitting up on his elbow. His brows worried together, squeezing her hip with his other hand that kept contact on her skin. “But I just wanted t’be soft with you tonight.  Always a bit rough with you and I love it… love making you a wreck but I kinda jus’ want to make you feel appreciated.” He tried to explain. “I haven’t really done anything like this before with anyone. I wanted to see how it could be. Got the craving to just be nice to you.” His honesty made her blink.

Why did it kind of feel like a rejection?

“So you don’t want to have sex?” Her head tilted like a sad puppy, the confusion on her face making him upset.

“I always do. But we do it every night and I dunno… I just kind of wanted to cuddle n’ kiss.” He felt his cheeks flush a bit. “Is that okay?”

“Oh, yeah of course… sorry.” Bunny felt a wave of embarrassment wash over her as she crawled to move beside him. Suddenly she felt really naked, the vulnerability was something she wasn’t very used to. It was easy for her to hide behind sex, it wasn’t often she was able to just be the sweetheart she was when no one was around.

This was all new for her too. She felt like she should have told him that her previous boyfriends never really wanted to just lay and cuddle with her. The last thing she wanted was to get him angry and worked up when he was so soft and pliable for once. She was sure to an extent, he knew.

Bunny pulled the blanket up over her chest a bit, resting on her side  so she could face him while he stayed on his back. She leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his shoulder, hoping he wasn’t upset with her. She already felt a strange tug in her heart, staying quiet while her hand moved to hold his under the covers.

“Hey…” He whispered, turning to her. “Hey, look at me. Give me your eyes.” He gently commanded, looking down at her face. Where that had made her upset, he couldn’t fully pinpoint. But it has. “That didnt mean get off of me. Didn’t mean I wanted to stop kissing on you.” He kept his tone soft, turning fully to face her again as he tried to get a feel on it.

“Can you tell me why you’re upset? Or embarrassed?” He tucked a bit of hair away from her face, looking quietly as he examined her. Bunny felt a bit unnerved, like he could read her thoughts from this point of view.

“It’s new for me. Doing this sort of stuff- well, even wanting to. S’not that I don’t want to have sex with you. I love our sex. It’s so hot, and I’ve never had such a good time with someone. It’s just…” He paused, tracing over the curve of her cheek. “I feel like all the world has been beating on you lately. You get treated with sharp words and you’re jumpy, someone’s following you around, you’re surrounded by dark shit and then I go and fuck you unti you’re brainless. I know it’s good and like I said- I love it. But I think for all the softness you give me, you give everyone, you should get some of that shit in return. You get me?”

Bunny’s eyes kept blinking, trying not to let the floodgates of emotion break as his words began to chip away at the walls she’d spent a long time trying to build. She should have expected he’d see through it, he always had. The softness he was showing her brought tears to her eyes.

“It’s new for me too, ya know?” She kept her voice quiet, closing her eyes for a moment to try and collect herself. “It’s just… you make me forget everything that’s going on, that I can just focus on you and not have to think at all.” Y/N took a deep breath, trying to keep calm. “Never had that before, I feel safe like this with you…”

It was even hard for her to pinpoint why she felt so embarrassed. It’s not like she thought he didn’t want to fuck her, but something about how she’d built it up in her head expecting to completely detach for the rest of the evening had been something she looked forward to. Was it healthy? Probably not.

“I’m pretty good at showing my feelings with cooking and all that but sex has always been the main one… It’s not that I don’t want to be soft with you, I guess I just didn’t expect that you’d want that now, I was thinking of something else… think it’s why I’m embarrassed.”

“Well… is it okay? That I want that sort of thing with you?”

That insecurity built in his brain went alert. He didn’t think he was misunderstanding her, but sometimes he knew he could be blind. He was very eager with her now that he had felt a shift but he could dial it back if he really tried.

“No! No, no.” She shook her head, placing her hand over his and leaning into his palm. “I do like it. I want it. But I guess in my last few relationships I kind of felt like I didn’t really… deserve it?” She didn’t know if that was exactly it but that’s the best she could vocalize. “I stopped hoping for it, I guess. Sex was what people use to communicate that sort of stuff so I’m used to that. It feels like I’m doing something wrong. Not really giving you back the attention you deserve.”

Harry frowned. This wasn’t what he wanted to hear. His jaw clenched slightly as he tried to let go of his anger for the past people who have treated her so poorly, people who were on his damn list.

“I understand to a degree. Feel like that. I used to use sex as a release. Just… do it and it’s over. Don’t get me wrong, Bunny- look at me.” He grabbed her eyes with his own. “I love our sex. I love the messy, the dirty, your whines and the roughness. But that isn’t the only way to be. It shouldn’t be.” He shook his head, exhaling sharply. “I would beat anyone’s ass- I am going to beat their asses- for using you like that. I may call you my fucktoy, but trust me when I saw I think of you as a hell of a lot more.”

Though his words were comforting to hear, the ugly feeling of embarrassment was still present in her body. Her eyes stayed locked on his, allowing herself to believe him even though that within itself was scary. She had admitted to herself she was in love with him not too long ago, the idea he might feel the same way had her mind reeling.

Bunny moved even closer to him, aching to feel more of his comfort. She was feeling shy, but still mustered up the courage to kiss him in the sweetest and most appreciative way she knew how. She wanted to say the words but it was too soon, she’d save them for another time, but for now the kiss was just right.

Her hand moved to cup his cheek as she pulled away, staying close to his face just to show him she wasn’t going to hide anymore.

“I really mean it when I say that I like being with you, Harry. In any way and every way.”

[5eraphim]

swinging out the gate with pure filth but i recently stumbled upon a scout voice line that made me cream my pants (tumblr doesn't allow links as anon so i'm putting extra parentheses to make sure it doesn't appear as one (https://wiki.teamfortress.com/w/images/4/48/Scout_domination20.wav))

anyways it got me heavy thinking about dom scout because i really truly think this boy is a sadistic motherfucker. huge ego and need to be the best, especially growing up the youngest sibling? having someone stupidly fucked out for him blows his mind.

and i KNOW for a FACT he has a daddy kink, too, and wants a real title to hear the power he has in the moment (plus there's another scout voice line that says "come to daddy" so it's essentially confirmed because i said so).

he's still a little bit of a teenage horndog about it, rolling his eyes back and getting a little nervous when you actually do submit, because he was prepared for a fight.

i would almost say he prefers it, wanting the struggle and the power that comes with quelling the flame in you but never fully, trying to push buttons to get you to give him a shove or a nasty remark so he has an excuse to pounce on you like a predator.

"yeah? you like that? gettin' fucked on daddy's dick?" almost really talking to himself when he drills into you as fast as he physically can, positioned in missionary because he wants to see that pretty face (and tits).

he wants to see overstimulation paint your features, you know that. he also wants to see that feisty side of you just so he can tame it. you push his abdomen the best you can, hands really just shoving his shirt that he didn't bother to take off. it's not working, and all he can do is laugh at your pathetic attempt.

you yank the dog tags that dangle in front of your face, sort of wet because of the sweat he's pouring, not due of the physicality but rather that he's so worked up and thrilled that he's heating up. the chain wrings around the back of his neck a little, not necessarily doing the damage you hoped for. in fact, you can see a switch flip and his eyes darken. uh oh.

his hands slam around your neck, having previously been attached to your waist, and squeeze so hard your vision goes fuzzy at the edges and all the blood rushes from your head. "you wanna choke me? how's it feel ta be fuckin' choked, huh? stupid bitch." he's degrading, harsh because he knows he can be. your eyes well u with tears, threatening to spill, and he grins like a wolf. he loves it.

"oh, what, you gonna cry? you gonna cry now?" he spits at you. that's all it takes before the waterworks start, cooling your warm cheeks and letting him know he's won this round.

there's nothing that stops you from cumming on his cock, completely overwhelmed by feeling and so far gone that it doesn't even matter. scout's overjoyed that he's got a pretty girl so fucking stupid for him that she can't even control her body anymore. he gets so high off the feeling that he can't help but bark out every filthy thought and word he has, a reminder that he is conscious enough to talk and you're so braindead you can't form a word.

"aww" he wipes your tears with the pad of his thumb, "don' cry kid, i'm not even bein' that cruel!" he taps his thumb against your lips, scowling when you turn your head to avoid his digit. he grabs your chin to force your eyes on his. "open up and suck my fuckin' thumb or ill replace it with my cock and fuck your face."

im making my mark as 👽 emoji because i will 100% be back to write more

HELL O?? HELLO 👽!!! I LOVE YOU SO MUCH RIGHT NOW!!! MAKING OUT WITH THE SIDE OF YOUR NECK RIGHT NOW AS WE SPEAK

thank you so much for sending me this, a bit blown awayy right now, i must say. top-tier scout characterization, on GOD. He is MEAN. he is literally a one man bully squad- of course he's gonna overdo it act like a total maniac getting nasty with his obsession.

i love this because i love writing Scout as on the more dominant side, but in a almost playfully sadistic kind of way.

[ohimsummer]

for ur lil date game

satoru taking you to a carnival? n we'll say 🍦for the emoji

— light descriptions of vomit, established relationship, satoru x reader, kinda proofread

“I…don’t think this is a good idea.”

Satoru snaps his head towards you, staring in utter astonishment. “Huh? What are you–,” he raises a fist to his mouth, turning away as a burp slips out, “–talking about? You don’t think this looks fun?”

As if to prove his point, a round of shrieks reaches your ears, the cart of people zooming by in a blur. Your eyes follow the ride’s track, the loops and sharp dips of it, angles that would have your stomach churning.

“It’s not that I don’t think it’s fun...,” you reply, gulping. “Maybe just not so soon after all that ice cream.”

“Pft. What are you, a wimp?”

Your brows furrow, avoiding Gojo’s gaze even as he leans over to grin at you. “No, I’m someone who doesn’t wanna puke all over themselves. You’re supposed to wait like an hour after you eat before getting on a ride, remember?”

Satoru crosses his arms, leaning back against the side of someone’s game booth. “Waiting, schmaiting, that whole thing’s a myth anyway, ya know?”

“…Is it?”

“Duh, babe. How could you get sick just from eating something and then getting on a ride? Use that pretty little head, we’ll be a-okay!”

Doubt and suspicion still creep at the edges of your mind, but Satoru’s confidence in his belief convinces you enough to let him drag you in line. Your tummy feels a bit full, having been stuffed with all the different flavors he wanted to try, but it’s only replaced with a somewhat empty feeling as you both draw closer and closer to the front of the line. Satoru is giddy, bouncing on his heels, jittery and jiggling you under his hold around your shoulders.

“This is gonna be so cool!,” he rambles, points at a section of the roller coaster. “Look, it even goes upside down at that part! If you do puke, it should probably be right there– ow! Pffft, baby, I was joking!”

In no time, you two are squished into one of the carts, right at the front as Satoru’s preference, and the attendant tugs the belt to make sure you’re both properly restrained.

“I wonder if they have one of those secret cameras that takes pictures throughout the ride?,” he asks aloud, reaching an arm around to pinch your cheek and laughing when you slap him away. “Make some silly faces, I want a new wallpaper.”

The ride begins before you can laugh at him to shut up. It’s a slow start, gradually creeping upwards to reach the tip-top of the first hill. You lace fingers with Satoru's, who’s chatter has suddenly gone quiet, and he faintly returns the tight squeeze you give his hand.

“All good?,” you ask, eyes stuck on the path ahead, ears filled with the loud rumble of the coaster as it draws nearer to the top. In your peripheral, you see the swish of Satoru’s hair as he gives a swift nod and a short ‘mhm!’.

You glance over at him, and immediately something’s wrong. His bottom lip tucked between his teeth, brows furrowed and eyes wide with anxiety. “You sure you’re okay?”

He glances over at you and smiles, forced. “Y-yup! I’m fine, baby.”

“Satoru, you’re sweating.”

“It’s just hot–“

“You’re also really pale, even for you.”

His lips falter, eyes blink as though the sun beams straight through his blackened shades. “U-uh…”

You study the way Satoru wipes his forehead, and then smacks his lips. He doesn’t answer your ‘what’s wrong?’, only presses himself back in the seat as the coaster finally crests the first hill.

He licks his lips, smacks them again. “Ugh, my mouth feels really watery.”

Your brows raise. “Oh?” And then you recall something you’ve read related to sickness. “Doesn’t that mean you’re about to vomi-“

Your shriek, not because the ride has went plummeting, but because liquid now ejects from Satoru’s mouth, spews between his fingers as he tries to hold it all back. You lean away, constantly glancing back to see regurgitated ice cream shooting back on other passengers. Someone screams ‘Eww, what is this?!’ and you just pray they’ll think it’s bird poop or whatever, and also that too much of Satoru’s puke doesn't reach you.

By the time the amusement ride ends, a crowd of people are giving both you and Satoru dirty looks, mumbling insults and complaints under their breath and heading to the nearest restrooms to clean up. Satoru’s once clean shirt is stained in a dull rainbow of tossed-up ice cream, and you grab napkins from a nearby food booth to wipe his face clean.

“This is embarrassing.,” he mutters, shielding his face from passerby as you both begin heading home.

You sigh. “I told you we should wait, ya big baby.”

bonus :3

The next say, Satoru grabs your phone, intent on his usual activity of snapping an overabundance of selfies that you won't notice until the next time you check your album or he hints at having tampered with the device if you take too long. His thumb freezes over the camera icon in the corner.

"Y/N!," he yells, and you come rushing because why does it sound like he's in trouble?

You come sliding around the corner in socks, gripping the doorframe to steady yourself before coming to a halt in front of your held-out phone.

"What?", you ask, biting back a grin.

"What? Look at this photo!"

A giggle threatens to slip past your lips at the picture, a polaroid of you with a look of absolute shock and disgust as you hold up hands to shield yourself from Satoru, who sits next to you on the ride with wide, blue eyes, puffed out cheeks and throw-up bursting from between his fingers.

"Don't need to, I've been laughing at it since yesterday."

feel free to send a char + date idea <3

[tevanavernus]

You Look So Pretty, Pretty Like The Sun - Chapter 2

Chapter 1 , Chapter 3 , Chapter 4 , Chapter 5 , Chapter 6, Chapter 7 , Chapter 8 , Chapter 9 , Chapter 10

Link to ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/55256683/chapters/140294179#workskin

Buck wiped away the sweat from his forehead on a small towel between his sets. Despite the AC blasting at full power, the gym still felt stiflingly hot. The weights beside him were slightly heavier than what he typically lifted. With the wedding right around the corner, Buck had been making the most of any free time by hitting the gym . And if he harbored a secret desire to look extra good for his date, who could blame him?

Buck knew they were pretty similar in height but he was nearly certain Tommy was actually stronger than him. He attributed it on the Muay Thai. Speaking of Muay Thai, he really should stop imagining Tommy in the ring, his skin glistering, only in a pair of shorts and boxing gloves. His Google search history became much more interesting since they started to hang out.

Buck lifted his phone off the floor again, checking if he missed any messages while he was lifting. Throwing the towel over his shoulder he leaned back against the seat. The pretense that he wasn’t checking the phone every moment he could was long forgotten. Both he and Tommy had a day off and had been texting since Buck crawled out of bed for a cup of coffee.

Things between him and Tommy were good. Almost too good. His past relationships were never this peaceful or easy. Since their reconciliation couple of days ago, they fell into a rhythm. In his previous relationships, Buck always felt like his partners took offence if he didn’t talk to them constantly at work or if he would lose time hanging out with the team after work. With Tommy it was different. Sharing a similar job, he knew how hectic the days were. More importantly, he understood the team dynamic. They texted when they could without expectation of an immediate reply. Their conversations never had a beginning or an end, and often with different amount of hours in between, especially when Tommy was piloting. However when they were off, Buck was glued to his phone.

Buck grinned as he looked at the chat. He was getting bolder, adding more winky emojis to his texts and teasing Tommy more often. Despite still blushing like a teenage girl in front of the man, he considered this progress. And judging by Tommy's reactions, it seemed like he was enjoying it too. The last message Buck sent was a selfie of himself in front of the mirror, making sure to pose in a way that showed off his muscles. He really needed to thank Eddie for telling him about lighting all the way back when he first joined the 118. Tommy had responded with a series of fire emojis, and asked which gym he used. Buck placed his phone back down, eager for the man to reply.

He was in the middle of bench pressing as someone approached him from the side.

“Need a spotter?” A familiar voice called out, causing Buck to do a double take, his arms faltering for a second. He quickly recovered and clinked the barbell back into place. Tommy stood beside him, wearing a pair of blue shorts and a black, very fitting vest top. Shamelessly, Buck ogled at the man, his eyes glancing up and down a few times.

“Tommy!” He grinned widened. “What are you doing here? I thought you had errands to run.”

“Well, a cute guy changed my mind.” ommy replied, winking playfully and eyeing the equipment. “Mind if we share?”

“Be my guest," Buck said, stepping away from the bench and giving it a quick wipe. He couldn't help but emit a half-groan as he watched Tommy bend down to grab another set of plates, offering him an excellent view. The sly smirk on Tommy’s face suggested he knew exactly what he was doing.

“Ready to actually do some work?” Tommy teased, adding the weights to the barbell. Buck chuckled shaking his head.

“You’re on, old man.”

An hour and a cold shower later, Buck sighed happily as his muscles tingled, the cool water washing away the fatigue of their intense workout. He was pleased to learn that Tommy was just as competitive as him, the workout turning into a fun competition. They ended their workout on a treadmill where Tommy had utterly beat his ass in endurance.

As he dried his hair with a towel, Buck caught sight of Tommy openly staring at him in the mirror. His heart quickened at the intensity of Tommy's gaze, a flush creeping up his cheeks as he met the other man's eyes.

“What?” Buck asked, shifting under his gaze. The semi-public space added to the nerves and excitement.

“Nothing, just you're quite the sight.” Tommy replied with a mischievous glint in his eyes. Buck’s brain short-circuited for a moment.

“Lets grab some lunch.” Tommy added casually, as if he didn’t just openly flirt in a men’s locker room. He thew the duffel bag over his soldier, and Buck quickly grabbed his stuff, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips as he fell into step beside Tommy, feeling like a lovesick puppy in the best possible way.

———

After coming out to his sister and best friend, it became easier to talk about this newly discovered part of himself. There were only a select number of people he did want to tell, and he was determined to do it before the wedding. In part, he didn't want to make Maddie and Chimney's big day about him, a distant echo of his parents' voices ringing in his mind. Mostly, he just wanted to have a nice night with Tommy among their closest friends, unspoiled by awkward corrections that Tommy isn't just his friend but his date. He knew that Tommy wouldn't correct it if someone did make that assumption, wouldn't out him; he was too considerate for that.

Buck told Chimney when he announced he needed a plus one to the wedding. He rolled his eyes, remembering the smug grin on Chimney's face, all too pleased that he was a matchmaker. After teasing him for a while, Chimney clasped Buck’s shoulder and declared that there was no way Tommy would be going to his bachelor’s party. He added something about 'under my dead body' would there be lovebirds pining in his face on his last night as a single man.

On one of the quieter shifts, Buck was helping Hen load up an ambulance. It was pretty quiet in the station when the words came to him. He didn’t explain in much detail, just a simple ‘I kissed a boy’ was enough. She gave him a knowing smile and pulled him into a hug. Then, she proceeded to roast him about Tommy for the next fifteen minutes.

He hesitated to tell Bobby and Athena . Not because he expected a negative reaction; after all, they had come together because Michael was brave enough to share that hidden part of himself. Buck knew they accepted him fully and had no doubt they’d do the same to him. It was a different kind of anxiety. The kind he imagined people felt when introducing someone they’re seeing to their parents. That was an experience he never had. When he was younger and girls started showing interest, he was too caught up in hormones to commit to just one long enough to bring home. Besides, his parents wouldn't have cared even if he did.

Sure, Bobby and Athena met and interacted with his past girlfriends before. Buck never asked what they thought of them, never asked for their approval. He was younger back then, did what he wanted, saw who he wanted. He didn’t need anyone’s approval. They didn't question him when those relationships inevitably crashed and burned; they were simply there. Whether it was celebrating his proudest achievements, scolding him for his reckless behavior, or keeping vigil by his bedside after a close call with death, they were always nearby.

He knew he wasn’t their kid. He was in his thirties for crying out loud. Yet during countless family dinners, moments at work, and various celebrations, he would catch glimpses of domesticity and could briefly imagine that he was their kid. He could envision that this was how it felt to be loved by parents.

He wanted them to like Tommy. It was a strange feeling, wanting to bring someone home and introduce them. Deep down, he desired to do it properly, but it was way too soon for that. They were still getting to know each other, without labels or exclusivity. Well, they were exclusive on Buck’s side, but they hadn't had the conversation yet, so he didn't want to presume.

For now, he would settle for introducing him as his date for the wedding.

“Buck!” Athena exclaimed as she answered the door, surprise evident on her face as she opened it wider to let him in. “What did you do?”

“Can't I come over without being accused of doing something?” Buck asked with mock hurt, flashing a playful smile.

“You’re always up to something.” Athena chuckled.

“I’m not intruding am I?” He asked, wanting to make sure. He could totally come over another time.

“Of course not, come. Coffee is on the counter.” With that she glanced at Bobby, communicating something Buck couldn’t decipher and walked off.

Bobby was in the living room and greeted him warmly. With a coffee in his hand, Buck sat down on the couch. They talked for a bit, catching up on one of the calls they had the other day. Buck tried to pay attention to the conversation, but his mind was elsewhere. He wondered what the best way to bring it up was, feeling his mouth go dry as he glanced down at his mug. Eventually, Bobby, sensing Buck's distraction, asked what was on his mind.

“I, uh,” Buck began, biting his lip nervously. “I have a date. For the wedding.”

“Really? Is she someone we know?” Bobby asked curiously, perhaps sensing there was more to the conversation.

The silence stretched out. Buck finally raised his eyes to Bobby, trying to find the words. Bobby tilted his head.

“Is he someone we know?” Bobby asked, his tone softening.

“Yeah, it’s Tommy.” Buck finally managed to say.

“Wow.”

“Wow?” Buck frowned, his stomach dropping.

“No! Not like that!” Bobby was quick to correct it. “More like I should have realised you two would hit it off.”

“Yeah, we hit it off alright. Is… is that weird?”Buck asked tentatively.

“Why would it be weird?” Bobby responded, genuine confusion in his voice.

“I uh, I don’t know.” Buck sighed, rubbed his face and rose up. He pointed towards the kitchen. Eager to change the subject. “Forget I said anything. Want to grab something to eat? I’m starving.”

“Buck,” Bobby stopped him, rising and clasping a hand on his shoulder. “I’ve know you since you were wet behind your ears. I’ve watched you go from a reckless kid to a great man. And while I’d appreciate if you would stop giving me heart attacks with the stunts you pull on the job, your heart has always been in the right place. So if you’re happy, that’s all that matters to me.”

A lump formed in Buck's throat, and he blinked back sudden tears. Before he could react, Bobby pulled him into a hug After a moment of surprise, Buck hugged him back.

“I’m proud of you kid.” Bobby added softly, loud enough only for him to hear.

“Thanks, Bobby.” Buck managed to choke out, his voice thick with emotion.

They pulled away, with Bobby giving his shoulder a final squeeze. Buck cleared his throat, a smile breaking out.

Athena's voice interrupted their moment, teasing and light-hearted.

“Ain’t you two looking cozy. Anything interesting to share?”

Buck glanced at Bobby, a flicker of amusement in his eyes. “I, uh, was telling Bobby about bringing Tommy to the wedding. As my date. Uh, the pilot that helped us find you.”

“I’m impressed Buck,” Athena grinned, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “What’s his name?”

“Tommy Kinard.” Buck replied and watched her pull out her phone and type it in phone. “Wait, are you doing a background search on him?!”

——-

Kissing Tommy was quickly becoming Buck’s favourite thing to do. They were at his loft, hanging out in the kitchen as Buck was still without a couch. His parents had gotten one for him, but it was more aesthetically pleasing than comfortable and after a 24-hour shift it pissed Buck off and he sold it the next morning. He had yet to buy a new couch.

As they waited for their Italian takeaway to arrive, conversation flowed easily between them but his attention was drifting, unable to resist stealing glances at Tommy's lips. Sensing Buck's gaze, Tommy flashed a knowing smile before taking hold of Buck's chin, and guided their lips together in for a kiss Buck's breath hitched in his throat as their lips met, his hands instinctively finding their way to Tommy's waist, pulling him closer. As the seconds passed, Buck’s confidence grew and he licked at the bottom of Tommy’s lip. Tommy hummed in encouragement, parting his lips, his hands roaming over Buck’s back.

Their kiss grew more passionate, more urgent and before he knew it, Tommy grabbed at his legs and hoisted Buck on top of the counter. A surprised gasp escaped Buck as he instinctively grabbed at Tommy for support. Tommy took the opportunity and slotted himself against Buck’s legs, wrapping them around himself.

“That was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.” Buck groaned out, his voice thick and eyes half-lidded with desire.

“You haven’t seen anything yet, pretty boy.” Tommy grinned, planting another kiss on his lips. He didn’t let Buck deepen the kiss, instead trailed light kisses down his cheek and neck. Buck gasped in pleasure at the nibbles along his neck, causing his body to jolt into Tommy’s when he sucked a particularly sensitive spot. Tommy's hand on his leg tightened, grounding him.

Buck flinched, startled, as a series of loud knocks on the door interrupted them. Tommy let out a frustrated sigh, briefly nibbling on Buck's neck once more before reluctantly pulling away.

“I’ll get it.” Tommy muttered, his eyes still dark with desire. He glanced at Buck’s lips and quickly kissed him again before moving away to get the door. As Tommy's back turned to him, Buck took a moment to catch his breath and ensure his legs hadn't turned to jelly. With a sheepish smile, Buck adjusted his jeans, feeling the warmth creeping into his cheeks.

Tommy managed to get rid of the delivery guy in a record speed and brought the pizza box to the table that was already set. Buck pulled out two beers from the fridge and joined him.

“I tried to get you in but Chimney was adamant that it’s not a bachelor party if we are making in a corner instead of partying.” Buck said as he brought the beer to his lips.

“Wise man, I can barely keep my hands off you.” Tommy sent him a flirty smile. Buck was getting a suspicion that this smooth fucker said things on purpose to make him blush.

“Also, Athena ran a background search on you.” Buck blurted out before his mind caught up with him. Probably not the best thing to say. “I mean, I told Bobby about us and she asked so you know. Told her as well.”

“Really?” Tommy raised his eyebrow in amusement. “Should I be worried?”

“Not unless you have something to hide.” Buck quipped playfully, his gaze locking with Tommy’s.

“Not to my knowledge. But do let me know if I have to flee the country. I’ll need time to prepare my chopper.” Tommy chuckled, his demeanor relaxed as he grabbed another slice of pizza.

“Speaking of telling people about us.” He continued. “Evan, are you absolutely sure about bringing me? It’s a big step, even if I wasn’t a man.”

“Yeah, of course.” Buck replied with a soft smile. “Besides, everyone who are important to me already know you’re my date. The rest can deal with it.”

Tommy's gaze turned thoughtful as he considered Buck's response “What about your parents? I assume they will be there.”

“I mean,” Buck shrugged. “I mean, something tells me that won't be the most disappointing thing I've done in their eyes even if they don't like it."

“Complicated history?” He guessed. They hadn’t really discussed their parents or their relationships with them.

“Something like that.” Buck alluded. He didn’t really want to get into it. His own feelings towards parents were complex, and definitely not a conversation for a date night.

Tommy seemed to understand and didn’t pry further.

“Well for what it’s worth,” Tommy's hand found Buck's on the table. “I can’t wait to be shown off by you.”

—-