#FUCK YOU ERIC HAS A SONG

[windex-for-blood]

QUESTION!

Am I allowed to say the new Little Mermaid sucks? Is that allowed? No shade on the actors, but this remake is so fucking bad it made me want to slam the door of a meat freezer on my head until I was in a coma

[britneyshakespeare]

throughout the series of drake and josh it pretty consistently implies that josh nichols is a christian (josh peck is jewish) and in the finale of the series helen (played by yvette nicole brown, not jewish[?]) is portrayed as a practicing jew

[mountainsandmayhem]

Aisle Amore

Pairing: Marcus Pike x Female Reader Summary: You truly never know who you might meet in the grocery store. CW: no smut, all fluff. Flirting, mention of divorce, talks of food, more adorable flirting. Word Count: 3.4k AN: I've gone soft!! I couldn't stop thinking about how the couple in Wonderful Tonight and Netflix & Chill met and even though no one asked, this is exactly how they met. I worked in a grocery store for almost 15 years and I can tell you right now that I would to SPRINTING to the pasta aisle. Special thank you to @mermaidgirl30 for beta reading and both her and @littlevenicebitch69 for helping me come up with a title. Dividers by @saradika-graphics

To you, there’s nothing worse than asking for help. You’ve been fiercely independent your entire life, and these snapped ligaments have been testing you. Your friends say they don’t mind helping, but YOU mind them helping. The pain in your ankle has finally subsided enough that you can put a little weight on it and only use one crutch.

Freedom! 

You shut your laptop at 6 pm, change into something that isn’t pyjama pants and begrudgingly put on a bra. The first stop on your newly found freedom tour is the grocery store. Thirteen year old you would be appalled at how excited you are over this. You jot down all the ingredients you’ll need to make homemade pasta, marinara sauce and meatballs. 

Living in downtown DC has lots of perks, one of them being you can walk to the grocery store that’s just around the block. After gingerly testing your ankles a few times you decide you can walk there. Your dad’s voice echoes through your head, “This family doesn’t cry, take care of yourself, don’t depend on anyone but you”. 

The walk there is easy, it feels good to be out in the summer evening sun, soaking in the vitamin D that you’ve been missing out on the last few weeks. You grab one of those small baskets with wheels and head into the store. It might be dramatic, but it’s been almost three weeks since you’ve been out on your own and you feel that same hyped elation you had at 16 when you got your license and your parents allowed you to go out on your own the first time. Except at 16 you picked up your friends and went to the record store, you were much cooler in your youth. 

“Stick to the list,” you say to yourself, realizing you’re slowly becoming just like your mother. That’s fucking depressing. 

The first items are olive oil and flour, you crutch along, the sounds of metal clicking and the rubber bottom squeaking following you as you move along the shiny white tile floor. A song you vaguely remember hearing during your childhood plays overhead, Eric Clapton singing about a woman looking lovely. The bakery must have fresh bread, and the delicious scent of it makes your mouth water. 

Focus! 

As you turn down the pasta aisle, you brush past a man in a suit who’s looking at the canned pasta sauces, poor sap, and stop about ten feet away from him. The small bag of flour you need is on an easily accessible shelf but of course, there’s only one left and it’s all the way at the back. 

Marcus holds up a jar of canned marinara, silently humming along to Wonderful Tonight by Eric Clapton. He swears he hears his grandmother on his mother’s side rolling in her grave. She wasn’t Italian, but owned a restaurant and was definitely looking down at him ashamed that he was BUYING something she taught him to make.

Sorry grams, he thinks, just as someone hobbles past him, vanilla wafting behind her, temporarily replacing the scent of the fresh bread he’s also going to pick up. His grandmother might come back just to slap him for this dinner tonight. Granted, he did just return from seeing his ex and her new boyfriend so maybe she’d take pity on him. Bake him those gooey chocolate chip cookies he loved so much. 

As he turns to head toward the pasta he sees a woman who quite frankly takes his breath away. She’s so beautiful that he almost can’t take her all in at once. Her bare legs are toned and tanned, wrapped in long black biker shorts, paired with a plain grey t-shirt and unzipped black hoodie. One high top converse laced up on one foot, the other in an uncomfortable looking boot. Her hair is in a low messy bun with almost too perfectly placed pieces along her neck and face. She seems to invade every ounce of him, until all he can see is her and all he can smell is warm vanilla. His mouth goes dry, and his heartbeat fills his ears. 

This next bit happens so quickly that he doesn’t have time to even think about it. But you would later describe it as not one of your finest moments, and he would describe it as the moment that changed his life. 

He watches as you reach above your head, raising up on the tippy toe of your good foot. As you lean forward, your hollow aluminum crutch slips out from underneath you and falls to the ground. An echoing tinny bang startles you and you stumble, putting too much pressure on your broken foot. The sweetest sounding “Ouch! Motherfucker,” leaves your pouty pink lips as Marcus rushes to catch you. 

“Whoa,” he says as he reaches out to steady you, one hand wrapping around your hip, the other cupping your elbow, helping you off your injured leg. “Are you ok?” 

Your cheeks flush as you look up at him. “Sorry, thank you.” 

Your bright blue eyes wash over him, and something tugs behind his heart. Eric Clapton singing "Oh my darling, you are wonderful tonight" as he stands there temporarily stunned, unsure of where he is or what is name is. It's just you.

It doesn’t make any sense, you could be married for all he knows, but something about you draws him in. He didn’t think he’d feel this way again for a very long time, but he needs to find a way to keep talking to you. 

“Let me get that for you,” he says, his hand moving from your elbow, reaching up and easily plucking the flour off the shelf. 

“Thanks, I could have gotten it.” You say and he fights to stop from laughing. He can tell that you’re not someone who asks for help. No, you’re independent and strong willed. And fuck if that doesn’t just make that tug behind his heart pull that much harder. 

“I know you can, you just scared me.” He looks down at you softly as you stare up at him. 

He’s suddenly very aware that he still has one hand on your hip. Your shirt had ridden up as you wobbled, and the skin of your hip is soft and warm against his palm. He finds himself wondering if the rest of you is just as comforting. Just as an inviting. The light scent of your vanilla perfume fills the small space between the two of you. 

“Look,” he says, finding it inside himself to peel his hand off you now that you’re steady, placing your flour in your basket and bending to grab your crutch. “My grandma is already cursing me from heaven for buying canned sauce and boxed pasta. Can you please let me help you?” 

You open your mouth and then close it, almost like you’re trying to come up with a reason to not let him, so he quickly adds, “For my sake.” 

You laugh through your nose, shaking your head and taking your crutch from this incredibly handsome stranger. 

Please don’t be married. Or a total creep. 

“Smooth,” you say teasingly. 

He tugs at his white button up shirt collar. “Is it hot in here?" He fakes a dramatic cough, "I swear - she’s watching me.” 

You look up at the white painted ceiling of the grocery store. “OK, grandma. Chill. I’ll let him help me.” 

When you look back at him he’s smiling from ear to ear, and if you thought he was handsome before; well, fuck, there’s not even a word to describe how unbelievably charming he looks right now. 

He looks down at your basket before saying, “Do you have a big list?” 

“Umm,” you say holding out the special lined paper you have to make grocery lists. “I have a few things, ya.” 

His thick fingers brush lightly against yours as he takes the list. You can’t help but notice that he’s not wearing a wedding ring, score, his nails are trimmed short and his cuticles are nicely manicured. You assume he must have some sort of fancy office job, like a lawyer or an accountant. He seems to radiate stability and you didn't realize you could be so aroused by fingers.

“Are you making pasta? And sauce?” He asks as his brown doe eyes scan your list. 

“I am,” you say proudly. You might not be a world famous chef, but you take pride in your cooking abilities. 

He smiles back at you again. “Stay here,” he says softly, “I’m gonna grab a cart.” 

As he turns to walk away, taking your basket and his sauce with him, you notice the way his grey suit jacket clings to his broad shoulders. Accountant by day, muscle model by night? Muscle model? Great, he’s broken your brain. 

It doesn’t take long before you hear the distinct rumbling of the plastic wheels of a shopping cart heading your way. Just as your handsome stranger comes back into the aisle “At Last” by Etta James starts to play. 

“I’m Marcus, by the way,” he says, grabbing a box of pasta on the shelf and sitting it next to his sauce in the top part of the cart. 

You say your name and notice the tiniest glint in his eye as the sound of it wraps around him. “Well then, we’d better get going on this list.” 

He moves slowly, allowing you to set the walking pace. He’s taken your list and the entire thing feels almost too domestic, like you can envision yourself doing this every weekend with him for the rest of your lives. Maybe there would even be a kid in that little part where he puts his boxed pasta and canned sauce. 

“Alright, so we covered names and who grew up where. So, what do you do for a living?” You ask, snatching a bottle of olive oil off the shelf. 

“I - uh - I work in law enforcement,” he says. 

You look at him, then his tie, then back at him. With a hint of amusement in your voice you say, “Pretty fancy dress code. What are you? Like FBI or something.” 

“Yes, actually. And now that you know that, I miiiight have to kill you.” 

You laugh, “Sure know how to put a girl at ease, Agent Pike.” 

The way you say agent, all teasing and flirty, goes straight to his cock. He’s been called Agent Pike thousands of times over his career but it’s never sent a shiver down his body like that before. 

He runs a hand over his patchy scruff. “I’m kidding. About the killing part, not the FBI part.” 

“Thanks for clarifying,” you laugh.

Whitney Houston’s voice floats across the store, singing about dancing with someone who loves her. 

Neither of you is particularly paying attention to your list or what aisle you’re in. You snake up and down each aisle, both of you occasionally grabbing something you need. 

“What about you?” He asks. Something about the way he asks a question seems different. It’s like when Marcus asks something he’s genuinely asking, not just trying to force conversation. With every answer you give his eyes focus on yours, he nods and seems curious and excited to hear what you have to say. 

The bar is truly in hell if I’m turned on by a man who’s just treating me like a human. 

“I run a small online store for my, umm, for my designs.” This part is always awkward, men change how they treat you once they find out what you do for a living. You avoid his eyes, he’s so goddamn handsome and you’re already disappointed that he’ll soon give you an ick with how he’ll respond to your career, how all men respond. 

“Your designs? Are you an artist?” His eyes light up and he stands a little taller when he asks, he must love art. He’s going to be thrilled to find out your best friend owns a gallery, and probably even more thrilled when he learns you hurt your ankle falling off a step ladder she had you posing on as she painted you, and yes, you were completely nude. 

“No,” you laugh. “I design clothing. Sort of.” You continue avoiding his eyes and chew on the inside of your cheek as you grab some dried oregano and place it in the basket. 

“Hey,” he says softly, stopping by the spices, “You don’t have to tell me something you don’t want me to know.” 

“It’s not that. It’s just,” you stop, glancing up at his warm chocolate brown eyes. His Adam’s Apple bobs as he swallows, and you have the sudden urge to sink your teeth into his neck. “Men just usually treat me differently once they know.” 

He narrows his eyes at you and his lips curl into a tight lipped and curious smile. “That’s clickbait. Now you have to tell me.” 

“Or you’ll kill me?” You laugh. 

“Yes, FBI remember,” he says sarcastically. 

You take a deep breath through your nose before you begin. “Ok, I design and sell lingerie.” You try to sound as casual as possible, smiling sweetly at him before you start walking again. 

Marcus doesn’t follow along so you look over your shoulder at him. Is he blushing? 

“Well,” he says, clearing his throat and avoiding your eyes. “I don’t see how that would make someone treat you differently.” 

“Then why are you blushing, Pike?” You flutter your lashes at him as he catches up to you in the aisle. 

The pink of his cheeks deepened, “I’m not blushing. Pretty sure I got a sunburn when I grabbed the cart.” 

“Ah, yes. I’ve heard that being indoors during sunset is a very dangerous UV time.” You joke. 

He laughs, “You’d be shocked how many people don’t believe it.” 

You both laugh as you head towards the produce department for your tomatoes and onions. Elvis’s ‘Can’t Help Falling In Love’ comes over the speakers, and even though other people are shopping, it feels like it’s being targeted at just the two of you. You pluck a few tomatoes from the shelf and he opens the little plastic bag for you to place them in. 

He takes a breath to start speaking and you brace yourself for the inevitable. All men do it. They all either ask what your company is called so they can look up your Instagram later or they’re bold and flat out ask you to model some of your designs for them. 

“Where’d you learn to make pasta?” He asks, his voice quivering at the closeness of your body to his. 

“Umm, I sort of did an Eat, Pray, Love thing recently.” You say quietly, smiling up at him. It’s the tiniest movement, but you swear his eyes flick to your lips as your hand brushes against his while you reach into the bag. Your heart is pounding behind your ribs, it’s almost unfair how handsome he looks under these fluorescent lights. 

“Oh? Like you went to Italy?” His voice is low and nervous as he watches you picking up tomatoes, squeezing them gently and smelling them. Carefully choosing the best ones. 

“Yes. Without spilling my whole life story, I got married young and then divorced a few years ago. I just kind of needed a hard reset on myself.” You drop two more tomatoes in the bag and then side step, or more more like side hobble, to the onions. 

“Huh,” he says, “I can honestly say that I know exactly what you mean by that.” 

You both smile at each other, you swear you can see his pulse flutter in his neck before he says, “Unfortunately, I think we have everything on your list,” he finishes off his sentence by saying your name and it sends an explosion of butterflies in your lower belly. You don’t know if you’ve ever met someone who makes you feel like you have somehow known them for your whole life but is also brand new. 

“Sorry. You probably have places to be and I’m -“ Your voice trails off when he slowly steps even further into your space. 

“That’s not what I meant,” he says softly, his fingertips brushing against yours causing a buzzing up your arm. Just then ‘I knew I loved you’ by Savage Garden rains down from the speakers. Marcus laughs gently and continues, “Is it just me or has the music been interesting in here tonight?” 

You move your pointer finger just a hair so it brushes against his, “ya, sounds like the crab from The Little Mermaid is in charge.”

A laugh from his stomach passes his lips, it’s joyous and melodic and even though you’ve just met him, you want to make him laugh like that for the rest of your life. He’s smiling so big that you can see all his straight white teeth. His head tips forward slightly and the skin around his eyes crinkles. You’re both so close, he smells like mint and a new book and everything around you seems to fall away, blurring around the edges. It’s overwhelming. Dizzying even. He’s the one. You can’t explain it, but you were meant to be in this grocery, with this annoying boot and crutch. 

“That’s not quite the comparison I would have used, but yes.” His eyes dance around yours, still laced with amusement and happiness. “Is he a crab or lobster?” 

“I think he’s a crab,” you say, pulling your hand back from his to stop yourself from leaping off that cliff and into his arms.

“I think he’s a lobster,” he counters, stepping back but never breaking the connection of his eyes with yours. 

As you head towards the checkout you glance towards the shopping cart nervously, remembering that you walked here. 

Both of you pay for your groceries in a comfortable silence and he scolds you teasingly for trying to grab your bags. “Grandma is still watching.” 

The two of you head for the exit. “Did you park somewhere?” 

“No. I can take them from here,” you’re not going to let this man drive you somewhere or walk you home. That’s ridiculous. You are strong and you’ve already impeded his life enough. 

He lifts his eyebrow suspiciously and turns just a touch so you can’t reach your bags. “You walked here, didn’t you?” 

“It’s really fine, Marcus. It’s not far. Thank you for your help. You didn’t need to do that.” 

“I have an apartment that way,” he says, nodding his head in the same direction you need to go.

“Oh that’s very forward of you, but I know better than to go to a secondary location with a stranger.” And he does it again, that beautiful, happy laugh. “I’m in the same direction.” 

You walk down the quiet street. People always say they wouldn’t want to live downtown because it’s too noisy, but truthfully, after the work crowd disperses for the evening and the dinner rush parts, it’s quite peaceful. 

“How sure are you that he’s a lobster? Willing to make a bet?” 

He looks over at you cautiously. “Alright. I’ll play along. I’m 100% sure he’s a lobster. What’s the bet?” 

“Wow. Marcus Pike, does the FBI know you’re such a risk taker?” 

He says your last name and follows it with, “Quit stalling, what’s the bet.” 

“Ok ok. Once I’m off all the painkillers. If he’s a crab, I make you REAL pasta. If he’s a lobster, you take me out for real pasta.” 

You both stop at the same time in front of the same building, “This is me. So is it a bet?”

Marcus pulls a key fob out of his pocket, “This is also me. And yes, we have a bet.” 

You cross the lobby together, you select your floors and exchange phone numbers on the way up and then he finally gives you your bags. 

“Thank you,” you say, smiling at him sweetly as the elevator approaches your floor. “I appreciate you using your grandma to help me.” 

He covers his heart with his hand. “I would never!” 

As the elevator comes to a halt he glances up at you sheepishly and your heart almost breaks open right then and there at how devastatingly handsome and heart meltingly adorable he is all at the same time. 

You smile like a damn fool the moment you’re out of that elevator. Of all the ways you thought your night was going to go, it did not involve a very charming stranger making you all nervous and delusional. 

The second you get inside your apartment you fight the urge to prove yourself right and cash in on our dinner, but you already miss him, so you text him. 

Tag list:

@corazondebeskar @hiddenbabynyc @rainstorms-library @smutsmutslut  @sullyrocky44 

@keylimebeag @pimosworld @casa-boiardi @pedritoferg @paleidiot

@lorilane33 @pansexual-potatoes @jessthebaker @jasminedragoon @koshkaj-blog

@pedroswife69 @strawberri-blonde  @none-of-this-makes-any-sense @iloveenya

@javierpena-inatacvest @blazeflays @akah565 @pinkiec6-rubi @pedroshotwifey

@iluvurfather @ashleyfilm @mermaidgirl30 @untamedheart81 @littlevenicebitch69

[brook1yn-baby]

all mine

main 4 dating hcs <3

characters; kyle broflovski, stan marsh, kenny mccormick, eric cartman x gender-neutral reader

warnings; just a smidge of smut :3

a/n; first actual post 😱 also theyre like 18/19 in this

kyle broflovski:

he’s absolutely lovesick.

bro wrote and performed a love song for rebecca when he was in 3rd grade

you can be damn sure he’s doing that and more for you

only in private though, not big on pda, especially when you’re around his friends

you both know how much he likes you, so he doesn’t feel the need to put on a show when you’re in public

he’ll sling a loose arm around your shoulders while he’s talking to the guys or sit next to you during lunch, little things that tell you he’s still yours

his jealousy does sometimes get the better of him though

probably a little insecure in the relationship, scared he’s gonna lose you to cartman like he did with heidi

one time the five of you were at a party and kyle started squaring up to guy who’d asked you if you were single

sorta gave you the ick but he made up for it by walking you home, giving you a tipsy goodnight kiss and a lopsided grin before stumbling over your porch steps and heading back to stan’s place, the other guys having to hold him up the whole way there

that was the first and last time you’d seen him drink

after you told him about his attempt to fight some random guy, he decided that it’d probably be better for everyone if he stuck to being the designated driver

oh and he loves how close you are with his family

the first time he invited you over for dinner, he was terrified about his parents embarrassing him

almost cancelled when his mom wouldn’t stop saying that her ‘little bubaleh’ was in love

still, you managed to charm them the whole night, asking questions about gerald’s job and helping sheila clean up after dinner, even enduring ike’s constant questioning about if you and kyle were gonna get married

that’s when he knew he’d found the right one

definitely ended the night with your guys’ first kiss <3

stan marsh:

i’m gonna be honest he’s a fucking loser

definitely not the most attentive boyfriend you’ve ever had, but probably the best you were gonna get in south park

it’s a small town and options are slim, so you often had to give stan the benefit of the doubt

absolutely terrible at replying to messages

if you two aren’t physically together, you probably don’t talk

luckily for you, he’s a whiny bitch and will most definitely complain when he’s not with you

meaning most of your free time is spent at his house, listening as he practices guitar, playing video games or just laying in his arms

you could go to his and just nap the whole time and he’d still be happier than if you weren’t with him

you know his relationship with his dad isn’t the best, so you have to be prepared for many late-night ‘can i come over’ texts

most of the time it’s because randy’s drunk or just being a dick and he can’t stand to be around him

and obviously, you’re his safe place

sometimes though, his messages are a little less innocent

he’s a teenage boy at the end of the day, and he has needs

(as do you ;))

you and stan have a pretty stable relationship in comparison to him and wendy, but there’s been times when you two had to go on a break

whether it’s because of his constant need to be around you or his drinking, sometimes you just needed space

you and shelley def complain about him together when you’re on a break

she’s a couple years older but she gets it better than anyone

her own relationship was pretty rocky too, so it was nice to just vent to eachother, probably with a bottle of wine and takeout

it was probably a little weird that you still hung out with his sister when you and him were on a break, but you honestly didn’t care

you and stan never stay broken up for long though, the both of you eventually crawling back

maybe it was a little toxic, maybe you knew it wasn’t really gonna last, but for now, you had him and he had you

that’s all that mattered <3

kenny mccormick:

good old kenny mcwhoremick.

despite the rumours of his promiscuous lifestyle, his body count was actually significantly lower than you expected

not that you cared; you were actually quite happy that he was so experienced- not many boys your age knew how to pleasure both themselves and their partner

he wasn’t just great in bed, either

he’s quick to fall for you, infatuated with you after just a few meetings

immediately takes on a sort of caring role in the relationship, definitely protective, similarly to how he looks after karen

it was nice to have someone so doting, though you had to remind him a few times that you could take care of yourself

he simply shakes his head, stubborn as ever

speaking of karen, you adored her

anytime kenny invited you to his house, you spent most of your time playing dolls with her or letting her do your hair

he loved how motherly you acted towards her

probably got him thinking about starting a family with you tbh

he absolutely loves showing you off, be it with pda, on social media, whatever

you were his and he wanted everyone to know

definitely has a highlight on insta dedicated to photos of you, and a playlist of songs that remind him of you

(also of songs that he’d thought about fucking you to)

though you do spend lots of time at his house now, he was really against the idea when you first started dating

you’d suggest watching a movie at his place and he’d come up with some excuse to do it at yours instead

it wasn’t that he didn’t want to spend time with you, he was just embarrassed of where he lived after years of teasing from the other boys

one day you decided to show up out of the blue, wanting to surprise him for his birthday with presents

he’s gobsmacked when he opens the door, quickly trying to divert your attention away from the mess in his living room, his parents passed out on the couch

you reassure him that you don’t mind, asking if he wanted you to go; you really wanted to stay and see his reactions to your gifts, but you weren’t going to push him if he was uncomfortable

he was relieved when you said you didn’t mind, finally inviting you in

it was the first time he’d let a partner into his house which was terrifying in itself, but he calmed down when he saw how relaxed you seemed, getting comfy on his bed and waiting for him to open his presents

you obviously didn’t care how messy his home was, or how his parents weren’t the best at looking after their kids

you only cared about him <3

eric cartman:

listen, as much as i love the enemies to lovers trope with cartman, i love the fake dating trope even more

(and i love combining the two the most teehee)

cartman had recently received some pretty embarrassing information about you, and decided to make the most of it while he’s coming up with his newest scheme

you had had a crush on one of the other boys in your class for a few months and, even though you’d only told your closest friends, somehow he’d found out

so, in order to make heidi jealous, he’d forced you to be his pretend partner in exchange for not telling your crush you liked him

it was humiliating- having to hold his hand as he walked you to class, sitting with him at lunch, enduring his sickly-sweet pet names..

..only at first, though

after a few weeks, you’d come to enjoy the routine the fake relationship provided

you also found that you actually liked spending time with eric, and he could be pretty funny when it was just you two

you did your best to shove your feelings down, slightly ashamed and pissed off that you liked him, of all people

still, it couldn’t be helped- you had stopped staring longingly at your crush during class, eyes fixed on cartman across the room

it didn’t help that heidi didn’t seem too jealous either, causing him to ramp up the ‘pretend’ affection

when you were around him, he acted like he couldn’t get enough of you; playing with your hair, caressing your face, all the while keeping a strong arm around your shoulders, like he wanted to keep you close to him

as much as you liked the attention he was giving you, it was infuriating knowing he was only like this to get heidi back

it all came to a head when he tried to kiss you as she walked past you both in the hallway

you pushed him back, all of the feelings you’d been forcing down suddenly overflowing, choking on tears as you walked away

you knew when he didn’t bother following you that this relationship really was just pretend to him

it wasn’t until later that night when he showed up on your doorstep, hands in his pockets, sighing, that you realised maybe you were wrong

he obviously wasn’t big on apologising but tried his best, looking slightly annoyed as he admitted that he’d only blackmailed you into being his fake partner because he knew you’d say no if he actually asked you out

his logic was completely insane to you, but from eric’s point of view, he genuinely saw it as his only option to call you his partner

your heart melted as you thought about how he went through all that just because he had a crush on you

you don’t say anything in response, shocking him a little as you walk towards him, wrapping your arms around him and laying your head on his chest

sure, you’d hugged before, but it was awkward and emotionless, just pretend

this was different- his arms enveloped you, pulling you close as you felt him laugh

he was most definitely gonna tease you later for being ‘obsessed’ with him, but you could deal with it

after all, you were really, actually his <3

[luci-in-trenchcoats]

The Princess & The Playboy (Part 2)

Summary: The reader has agreed to go out with Dean for one date only but is pretty sure he's just a flirt looking to get in her pants. But Dean is more than he seems and may be the first person she can have a truly honest conversation with in a long time...

Masterlist

Pairing: NFL Quarterback!Dean x Pop Star!reader

Word Count: 7,600ish

Warnings: language, family trauma/angst, kidnapping, smut

A/N: I think I gave them too much trauma tbh...oh well!

_________

Eric rapped his knuckles on the doorframe of your home studio but didn’t do anything further to disturb you. You were absently plucking away on a guitar, something quiet and simple, your head spaced out as you listened to the notes over and over. You weren’t sure how it fit just yet but you liked the melody enough to jot it down in a notebook.

“That’s going to be a number one hit someday,” he said. You shrugged, setting the guitar to the side, closing your eyes. “You okay, kid?”

“The team says I’m behind on the next album. I don’t even have a single song,” you sighed. You felt him plop down on the couch beside you, your eyes peeling open, finding his stern ones looking back.

“The whole point of you ditching your first label and doing things through your team is so you’d be in control. You put out a fucking album in March. It’s September. When the hell were you supposed to be writings these songs? During the four hours of sleep a night you got while on tour the past six months?”

“Eric,” you shushed him, putting a hand on his arm. “I’m just venting. If I need you to kick someone’s ass I’ll let you know, alright?”

“Just don’t let them bully you,” he grumbled, getting to his feet. “You ready for this charity date shit?”

“I’ll happily take Dean’s ten million dollars for an hour of suffering. His fault he threw so many touchdowns last night,” you said, Eric pulling you up. “Is everything settled?”

“We rented out the restaurant. The only people inside will be the two of you, myself and his head of security. Apparently he’s famous enough he has his own protection agent, albeit he doesn’t tend to listen to them.” You saw a twinge of annoyance on his face but let it go, instead following him out and down the hall, Eric giving you a side eye. “Aren’t you going to get ready for your date?”

You slid past him and over to your front closet, shoving your feet into a pair of converse. “The man’s seen me in sweats and a hoodie. A Stones t-shirt and skinny jeans should be a step up for him.” 

You swiped your crossbody bag from the front table, Eric sighing. “Let’s get this over with.”

Thirty minutes later you were sitting at a curved booth in a nice italian restaurant. Ordinarily, you never would have rented out a whole place for just yourself. But you were pissed off at your team for trying to get you to capitalize off Dean wanting a date. He seemed like a genuine fan and you’d have a conversation with him for how much he’d donated to the charity. You’d had a long conversation with them last night, with some backup from Eric over it all.

Either they backed off or you’d find a new manager, agent, PR rep, all of it. You’d done it before when you were younger and you had no problem doing it again. 

Between you and Eric, you were pretty sure they were going to back off on the Dean front, at least for now.

You couldn’t help but stare when Dean came into view through the back of the restaurant. He was in a flannel and henley, dark jeans on his long legs. He smiled when he saw you but stopped short when Eric stepped in front of him. He said something you couldn’t hear, Dean flashing a wink that made Eric’s eye twitch. Dean kept approaching though, Eric now in a hushed argument with a woman in jeans and blazer that’d trailed in after Dean.

“Please don’t give my bodyguard an aneurysm. He already thinks you’re sketchy,” you said as Dean slid into the booth with a big grin.

“Oh he’ll warm up to me.” We both turned our heads at raised voices, Eric and Dean’s bodyguard going at it.

“Moron!” Eric shouted, your eyebrows raised. You didn’t have time to question his sudden lack of professionalism before she was shouting back he was a dickhead.

“Everything alright over there?” called Dean, Eric and the woman giving each other death glares before storming off to opposite sides of the restaurant. “Okay…well I’ve never seen Sloane act like that before.”

“Eric either. Weird.” You heard rustling and glanced at Dean, that silly smile still on his face. “You do understand I’m only here because you literally bought your way into a date.”

“True but I like giving to charity and if I get a date with the girl I’ve had a crush on since college, what’s the harm in that?” he teased. You crossed your arms, leaning back in your seat, his smile faltering. 

“Yeah see, that’s creepy. So talk about whatever it is you want to talk about and then we can go our separate ways, alright?” He was frowning now, keeping his hands under the table. There was an still beat. Not awkward but…sad almost. “Just-”

“You think I’m creepy?” he scoffed. You shrugged, Dean’s smile returning but laced with something mean. “Because I asked for a picture?”

“No-”

“Because I posted about going to a concert which fifty thousand other people did that same night?”

“That’s not-”

“Because I gave you my number? Was that my creepy offense? Because I’m surely the first man to-”

“Okay, you know what?” you said, leaning forward, narrowing your eyes at his ridiculously pretty face. “I don’t have to explain myself to you. You might be famous but you aren’t my level of famous. Everywhere in the fucking world people know who I am. Pushy men that give their number and call you their crush and basically publicly shame you into going out with them for money? Yeah, that’s fucking creepy, Winchester.”

Surprisingly, he only sat back in his seat, breathing slowly. “I’m sorry then. Just let me say one thing and then I’ll get up and leave and you never have to talk to me again.”

You unfolded your arms, offering a small nod. Dean bit his bottom lip, letting it go slowly, his chest raising and falling softly.

“You were the most beautiful girl I’d ever seen when I walked into that house party my sophomore year. It was the second weekend of the semester and I’d just played my first game as quarterback. I was the backup for our school you know. I was supposed to ride the bench but Dallas got hurt…” he trailed off as you stared at him. “Doesn’t matter. But I remember that party and I remember hearing you singing along to a guitar outside by the fire pit. You uh, you had your hair in a messy bun just like it is right now. You were wearing a Kansas hoodie that was way too big for you and you had on these nike sweatpants and obnoxious orange sneakers like you didn’t give a fuck how you looked. You had no idea how stunning you were.”

You glanced down. You remembered those sneakers. You’d only worn them a few times before your roommate accidentally lost them. 

“Your voice was beautiful. It still is but I’m a little sad you never do anything acoustic like you would back then. Still doesn’t matter,” he said, pausing a beat. “This isn’t a brag but girls threw themselves at me at that party. Every day after that game they did. But the only girl I wanted to get to know, wouldn’t say more than hi because I was a jock. And it took a long time for me to understand why but I do. Because I hate myself too.”

You flicked your gaze up and met his, green eyes boring into yours. You parted your lips but no words came, Dean nodding, a sad smile on his face.

“It wasn’t your fault. Your volleyball practice ran late. Your brother wasn’t your fault.” You bit the inside of your cheek and glanced away. “You hated sports after that. I read an interview that you thought sports were silly once. But I understand why. You don’t hate sports. You hate what they did to you and back then, every student athlete was just a guy that could hurt you or worse, he could get hurt too. I understand hating yourself. I was supposed to be there for my brother too but I stayed at school and fucked it all up. So I get why in college you wouldn’t give me the time of day when all I wanted was one date with the girl that made my heart skip.”

Fingers grazed your chin, cupping it gently as he forced your head up. 

“But I am not creepy for you still making my heart skip and wanting a date. We’re not kids anymore, Y/N. You don’t like me then fine, but give me a chance. Don’t push me out because I’m still a guy who plays sports.”

You gently pushed his hand away, Dean sighing. “Maybe you have a point about the kinds of guys I found attractive in college. The crush isn’t what’s…” You squeezed your eyes shut. “You have had a lot of girlfriends Dean and I mean a lot. You have a new girl every week. It’s clear we are two very different kinds of people. You hookup. I don’t. I’m like a conquest or some shit because you couldn’t get me in college. That’s why we’re not talking after this…whatever the hell this is, again.”

Dean cocked his head, eyes roaming over your body. “So you won’t go out with me because you think I only want to fuck you?”

“Am I wrong?” you asked. He chuckled, his face more lively.

“Sweetheart, I’ll admit, I’d enjoy doing a lot of things with you,” he grinned. “But…I’ll make you a promise. I won’t do anything with you, won’t even fucking kiss you, until you want me to.”

“You realized what you’ve described is friendship?” He shrugged.

“We can call it that if you prefer.” You were still under his careful watch, Dean leaning forward. “But know that when you do eventually fall in love with me I’m so going to rub your face in it.”

“And there’s the cocky flirt,” you said, nodding to yourself.

“Just stating facts,” he said, flashing you a wink as he tucked his hands behind his head. You rolled your eyes, Dean enjoying this far too much. “So-”

“Here’s how this works,” you said, grabbing a menu and sliding it over to him.

“Love a woman in charge,” he teased. You growled, his eyebrows shooting up. “Oh, the princess of pop has a temper. I think I like this sassy side.”

“We eat lunch and we try to be friends,” you said ignoring him. “Anything beyond that is yet to be determined. Are we clear?”

“Oh absolutely,” he grinned. You groaned, gripping your own menu tight. “You’re too fun to tease. I’m only going to keep doing it.”

“Keep it up and see how far that gets you, Winchester,” you grumbled. He stood abruptly, your eyes widening as he slid in next to you, throwing an arm over your shoulders. “What are-”

Hot breath fanned over your ear as you felt rumbling in your chest from his deep laugh. “Sweetheart, I’ll stop teasing the day you stop blushing when I do it.”

You turned your head, Dean’s merely a few inches from your own. He looked fucking cocky and sexy with that know it all smile. 

You hated that you were having more fun with his flirting than you had with a guy in a long time.

“Plus we both got that whole older sibling trauma, insane career pressure thing going on. I mean, match made in heaven right here,” he said, booping your nose. “Fuck, how are you hot and cute at the same time? No wonder the whole world loves you.”

You didn’t mean to but your eyes welled up with tears, Dean instantly pulling his arm back. You shook your head, wiping your face off with the back of your hand. “It’s not you. It’s just…that’s the second time you’ve brought up the thing we’re not…talking about. You know, our brothers. Do you…want to talk about it?”

Dean nodded. “After lunch…and somewhere private if that’s okay.”

“I can agree to that, even if our bodyguards won’t.”

“His house?” groaned Eric thirty minutes later. “His house, Y/N? You don’t know-”

“I don’t but you’ll be there and he needs to talk to someone about his brother and maybe I need a friend that’s not you that I can too. I’ve already made it clear to him that he and I are strictly friends.” Eric mumbled something but relented, the driver following after Dean’s SUV and to his home, only a short drive from your own.

Dean was waiting by the front door when you got out of the SUV, smiling as he opened it up. Eric went straight for Sloane who was nearby, the two of them bickering like cats and dogs, Dean shutting the door after them.

“Those two must have history,” he said, showing you down a front hall and through the middle of his open kitchen and living room, straight through a back door to a patio. You swore you could hear them arguing as you took a seat on an outdoor couch under an umbrella.

“I don’t think Eric’s dated since high school. Maybe they knew each other in the military or something,” you said, Dean humming.

“Could be. Sloane’s pretty much on her own too aside from the occasional hookup,” he said, sitting nearby on the couch. The air was quiet for a few moments as you took in Dean’s backyard, fairly quaint for LA standards, especially NFL quarterback standards.

“Whatever happened with you and Sam, it wasn’t your fault either.” He smiled, titling his head.

“I was supposed to go home that weekend and hangout with him. I was too damn hungover to though so I didn’t. If I’d gone home he wouldn’t have been walking home at night by himself. It wouldn’t have happened to him so it is my fault.”

You closed your eyes. “Well, I was late picking up Max and he walked home at night too so either we were both at fault or neither one of us was.”

“You were late from practice. Your coach made you late, not-”

“We were late because I got to practice late because I was making out with our fucking quarterback in the art room.” You felt him shift closer, arm around your shoulders as you forced yourself to look at him. “I didn’t hate athletes, Dean. I hated that because I was too busy kissing one, my little brother’s life was ruined. We’re old enough to know that it could have happened at any time, whether we were there or not.”

“I know,” he said quietly. You tentatively wrapped your arms around his waist, Dean smiling. “I never knew anyone else that had someone taken from them.”

“Me either. I mean I’ve met some through the charity but no one that knows…” 

“The world thinks you’re perfect because you’re good at your job and you smile for a camera.” You nodded, resting your head on his shoulder. “My friend Benny said you talked to him in english about Sammy.”

“I remember him. He was cute,” you said, Dean growling. “Someone jealous?”

“I’m the one pining after you, remember?” He laughed quietly, his long fingers brushing against your exposed arm. “He didn’t tell me until yesterday. I was on edge a lot back then. Even now Sam’s a touchy subject.”

“Doesn’t seem that way to me.” He shook his head. 

“You’re different. You know how hopeless it feels, what it’s like to have a funeral without a body, without knowing for sure.” You hummed, giving him a gentle hug.

“From our parents perspective, I understand why. We know the statistics and after so many years missing, so many experts telling them their kid is gone-”

“They needed to try to move on,” he finished. His fingers stilled on your skin, his body tense. “I don’t think I’ll ever be able to. Not without knowing for sure.”

You smiled, turning your head to meet his own worried eyes. “Me either. Guess we have that unhealthy trait in common.”

“I don’t think we’re doing too bad for ourselves all things considered.” You stood up, taking a few steps away before turning on your heels. Dean’s face was neutral as you crossed your arms. “You don’t like me, do you.”

“I think…” you trailed off, trying to word this nicely. “I think all we have in common is we went to the same college and both have little brothers that were kidnapped. I am open to being friends, Dean. I am. But I don’t think what you want to happen here-”

“You’re wrong.” You frowned as he rose from his seat, stalking over slowly, eyeing you in a way that made you feel very warm all of a sudden. He didn’t stop until he was by your side, staring you down. “I can ignore the blushing, ignore how the second we’re in private you are holding onto me like we’ve known each other more than an hour. I can even ignore how you look at me with those big eyes and pouty lips like you want to climb me like a fucking tree.”

“That is not true.” He put a finger under your chin, tilting it up as he brought his face close, warm breath fawning over your face. “I don’t like you like that.”

“Yes you do and that scares you. I fuck away my fear of intamacy and you hide from it. That’s our problem, isn’t it. You and I hide differently. Well I’m done hiding and girl, you need to be done too. Don’t you get that we are safe for each other? I get that you are going to be nervous about this and you get that I’m not a tool. We can learn together, learn something that is not easy for anyone but especially people like us that have everything so damn publicized. Most of all we can trust each other unlike the rest of the world. We won’t hurt each other and you know it. You just won’t admit it. You won’t let yourself care for someone that isn’t capable of defending themselves. Why do you think your bodyguard is your best friend? You have got to give us-”

“Good god you never shut up,” you said, reaching up and grabbing the back of his neck, pulling him into a kiss. Dean’s lips were instantly moving against yours, not taking ownership of the kiss but giving as much pressure as you were giving.

Hands cupped your cheeks, holding you steady as he smiled, teasingly dipping his tongue inside the dark cavern of your mouth. Dean pulled away much too soon, green orbs staring down, the heat in them cutting right through your core.

“I strike a nerve, sweetheart?” he teased. You scoffed, Dean tracing his thumb over your bottom lip. “Or does my armchair psychology just turn you on?”

“I was simply trying to get you to shut up.” 

“Oh. Well feel free to shut me up anytime you like.” You growled, Dean cupping your chin and pecking a softer kiss on you. You rose up on your tiptoes, Dean shushing you. “S’okay to admit you like traumatized cocky guys, princess.”

“You are insufferable,” you said, Dean smirking while you poked him in the ribs. “I never said I like you, Winchester.”

“Right,” he said, taking your hand and tugging you along after him. “Well come pretend to hate my company before I have to head to afternoon practice.”

“Insufferable.”

“Whatever you say, princess.”

Dean POV

“Hey,” I said late that night, answering my phone when I saw Y/N was calling. “You miss me already, sweetheart?”

“As if,” scoffed Y/N, quiet for a moment. “How was your practice?”

“Alright. How-”

“Just alright?” she interrupted. I raised my eyebrow, even if I was alone in my kitchen. Unlike Y/N, Sloane was the extent of my security team. Between her and myself, we had things covered. Sure, I was famous but it was different than being a pop star. I went to games that had security, a practice facility that had security, sets for commercials where they always had security. My home was in a gated community. The only reason Sloane was even on the payroll was peace of mind for my parents. She didn’t even go anywhere with me unless I asked.

“It was fine. Why?” I asked, Y/N going quiet again.

“Maybe I’m crazy but people that are in relationships generally ask how each other’s day went.” I closed my eyes, biting back a groan. “It’s already past eight. I should go.”

“Y/N-” The phone beeped, a glance down showing the call had ended. “Fuck me.”

I dialed her back, the phone picking up on the fourth ring, Y/N staying silent.

“Don’t hang up on me again.” She sighed softly, my stomach forming a knot. “Y/N…”

“I don’t think this is a good idea. We both have crazy schedules and-” 

“I told you earlier you don’t have to be scared of me. I know that’s what this is. You want to get to know me. Why else would you call? But you want an out too. Well I’m not giving it to you so suck it up cause you’re stuck with me. Understand?”

The line was quiet before I heard a bed creak, followed by a thick swallow. “I never said I’d date you, Dean.”

“Well we are so get used to it.” She mumbled something I couldn’t make out, my stomach still sour. “I will not hurt you, Y/N. That’s a promise.”

“You went out with forty two different women so far this year. Forty two. You spend every weekend fucking a new woman while I…” she trailed off, her voice still to thick for my liking. Was she crying? Fighting back tears? 

“What’s wrong, princess?” I asked gently, her voice hiccuping. “Why are you crying?”

“I’m sorry Dean but I’m clearly not mature enough for any kind of relationship with you. Please forget this happened.” She hung up again, my stomach fully twisted up. 

I was not going to let her fear stop her from living her damn life. I texted Sloane and two minutes later I was calling a different number, swallowing down my nerves.

“Dean Winchester,” said Eric, Y/N’s more than intimidating bodyguard. “Why the fuck are you calling me?”

“I need to know where Y/N lives. I want to go over and check on her.” 

“What the fuck do you mean check on her?” he snapped, a loud scrape in the background like a chair falling over.

“She’s fine! She’s fine,” I said, Eric’s loud growl making my ear hurt. “She’s upset is all and-”

“Let me guess. You made her upset?” I swallowed. 

“Not on purpose. I-” 

“What did I say to you at the restaurant? What the fuck did I say to you?” he grit out. I sighed as I went to my front door and slipped on a pair of sneakers. “I said if you hurt her, I’d fucking make your life hell. And what did you do? Sounds like you fucking hurt her. You understand why the fuck I wouldn’t tell you where she lives?”

“Eric, if you want to beat the shit out of me or bury me in the backyard or do whatever the hell you want to me, then fine. Go ahead. But she’s sitting in her house crying right now and this is something you can’t fix. So save my murder until after I can make her feel better, alright?”

“I’d rather shoot my own dick off than tell your slutty ass where she lives. I will check on her-”

I grabbed my keys off the front table and went outside, squeezing my phone tight. “Has she ever had a boyfriend?”

“Why the fuck-”

“Because you know as much as I have she hasn’t, not since Max was taken. She is scared of getting close to people and you know it. You’re the one person that’s been by her side since she got famous, aren’t you? I am asking you as someone that cares about her, as people that both care about her, please tell me. I need to at least try and help her know she’s not a lost cause.”

“Why on earth would she think that?”

“Because I have the same head as her,” I said, slipping behind the wheel of my SUV. “Be at the house too, I don’t care. But let me try, man. Please.”

The line was quiet, my heart in my throat as the seconds passed by.

“9 Hunt Lane. She’s a three minute drive from your house. Tell the guard at the gate ‘Cherry Blossom’ and they’ll let you in.”

“Thank you,” I said, starting the car.

“If you fuck with her-”

“I know. You’ll cut my balls off or some shit,” I said, opening my gate and backing out.

“Oh that’d be the nicest thing I’d do to you.” I didn’t put it past him that it was the truth. “I’ll be there in ten.”

“Don’t trust me, buddy?” I tried to joke but it came out forced. 

“I’m your fucking nightmare, not your buddy.” He hung up and I stared at the phone a moment.

“I would hate to know how you treat me if I wasn’t your favorite player,” I mumbled, taking off and in front of Y/N’s house before I knew it. I hadn’t realized we lived in the same neighborhood, just opposite sides. Her security guards at the gate were giving me a good side eye until I uttered the magic words. The next thing I knew, I was being let in the front door of the house by them, the thing closing tight after me, one of them locking it back up from the outside.

I kicked off my shoes and walked through the massive front hallway to the back of the house, looking all around but finding it dark. Until I glanced upstairs, a light coming from down the hallway. I quickly jogged upstairs, pausing halfway down the hall to a pair of double doors, one of them open.

“Y/N, it’s me Dean,” I called out so I didn’t frighten her. I could have sworn I still heard a sharp intake of air inside. “Eric gave me the secret password to get in. You’re going to have to tell me what cherry blossoms means some…”

My mouth snapped shut when I stepped into the room, Y/N wiping away at her eyes with the sleeves of an oversized hoodie. I frowned and walked in further, pulling away her hands from where she sat on the edge of the bed. 

“Oh sweetie.” My heart clenched at the site of her red, puffy eyes, at the dried tear tracks down her cheeks. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m what’s wrong!” she growled, trying to push me away but my hands around her wrist stopping her in place. “You want me? Me? I’m a fucking disaster, Winchester.”

“If you’re one then so am I.” She shook her head as I knelt in front of her, Y/N looking over my head. “Talk to me, princess.”

“At least you’ve had relationships and fucked other people.” I stared up at her, a pair of harsh eyes looking down at me. “I’m thirty two years old and as far as I’ve ever gotten was a kiss. A kiss. Because all men want is my money or fame or to fuck the virgin. To screw the pop princess and further their own careers.”

“Y/N-”

“The second I care about someone and let my guard down, they’re gonna hurt me or worse. Someone’s gonna hurt them and I can’t do jack shit,” she shot out, her chest heaving as more tears flowed. She stared me down, shrugging. “I’m too hurt to believe that you don’t want me for me, that you won’t get hurt too. You will get hurt. People want to be with me and if you were, you’re just a target. A fucking bulls eye on your back for life. Either you fuck me over or someone fucks you over. That’s all there is. That’s it. So why the fuck would I sign up for that? Why would I-”

I leaned forward and tilted my head up, catching her lips briefly. I hated the taste of salt on them, of the way I could feel her body shake as she fought back even more tears. I pulled back slowly, keeping close, her big eyes watching me with so much fear but something else too.

Desire. Longing.

“Remember earlier when we said we both had to learn and we’d do that together? Well that’s what this is, princess. So you get scared and I’ll be here to remind you to, okay?” I whispered, kissing the tip of her nose. She looked so confused, watching as I wiped off her face with my hand. “I don’t give a fuck that you’re a virgin by the way. You deserve to choose how and when you want to love someone with your body and that’s your choice alone.”

Her bottom lip wobbled as she nodded, my thumb running over it.

“Don’t be afraid of me, baby,” I murmured, tucking a piece of damp hair behind her ear. “Tell me who hurt you so much to make you think you’re unlovable.”

Her eyes shimmered, gaze casting down. “He was my responsibility. I was supposed to protect him and…” She forced her head up, face scrunching up as I held her cheeks. “I’m going to fuck that up again. Whatever man I’m with, I’m going to let him down. I’m going to let my partner down again. And I’m too weak to stop it.”

“Hey, hey,” I said softly, waiting a beat until she was looking at me, bleary eyes, runny nose and and all. “I am your partner and you will not let me down. We will protect each other. That’s how it works.”

“You don’t know what it’s like,” she whispered, voice ragged. “The attention. The death threats. The creeps. The way people write letters and offer information on Max that are full of lies. You’re famous but it’s not like this. All of that will happen to you too. I can’t protect you from it, Dean. No one can.”

I touched my forehead to hers, shushing her when she shivered. “You’re right. It’d be another crazy ass level of infamy that I don’t know. And people will hate me for it. But they hate me already for losing games, for getting a flag, for not running when they don’t know the fucking plays. People will hate us for no reason no matter what we do. So why the hell wouldn’t I want to be happy with you while that’s happening?”

She sighed, gently taking hold of my hand. “I’m not the girl with the designer clothes and hair extensions and fake eye lashes with a smile everyone thinks I am. This is what I am behind closed doors, Dean. Why would you ever want this?”

“Because I fell for the girl who looked like a hot mess around a backyard campfire, the sweet one that valued her school work and gave the boys without the good looks attention because of what was in their heads. You have a charity to try and shut down trafficking rings. You have never said a bad thing about another celebrity when we know some of them deserve it. Don’t you know how good of a soul you have, princess? Scars and all, it’s the one I want.”

I ran my finger down the curve of her cheek, her free hand going to my shoulder, gripping it gently. 

“It’s so unfair,” she said, sliding her hand up to my face. “You’re only supposed to be a handsome cocky flirt. You’re not supposed to be sweet too.”

“Sorry to disappoint,” I whispered as she tilted her head closer, her breath warm, a faint whiff of mint in the air. “I know you want me. So take me.”

Y/N’s eyes grew a sliver darker, nose jammed against my own. “You sure you want that?”

“I’m already yours.” She crashed her lips to mine, tugging on my hand. She wouldn’t let me breakaway as I rose to my feet, crawling onto the bed as she laid back. I yelped when her legs wrapped around my waist and she flipped me to the other side of the bed, her body straddling mine. She lowered her torso, dipping in a way that made my cock strain in my jeans, her face only inches from mine. “You sure you’ve never done this before?”

“I said I’ve never had sex. Never said I’d be innocent.” She said, pressing her lips to mine, a twinge of something in her face pulling her back after a second. “I’m not ready for that tonight.”

“That’s okay,” I reassured her because it completely was. She eased and brought her head down, kissing under my jaw and doing nothing to ease the twitch in my dick. 

“Your dick seems to have other plans,” she murmured. 

“Ignore him,” I said, cupping her face so she saw I was serious. “You are wildly unphased about the fact a cock is poking into the back of your thigh for someone who’s never even seen one you realize?”

“I’ve seen them, just not in person,” she said, eyes going to my lips. “And I wouldn’t say unphased is what I am…just don’t want to send the wrong impression.”

“Is it turning you on?” I asked carefully, Y/N nodding once. “Do you want me to touch you?”

“Keep it to your hands,” she said quietly, before kissing me again. I let her run things, her slow wandering fingers quickly tugging in my hair as her kiss turned rougher. She gasped when I put my hands on her waist and squeezed, earning me one of her hands fisting my shirt. She was getting into it, her breath hitching for barely a moment as I slid a hand under the waistband of her sweats, under the cotton underwear.

Her hips rolled while my fingers made their way over her smooth mound and suddenly I was touching her slit, teasingly gracing the tip of one finger through her folds.

“Oh,” she said, when I brushed her clit, her eyes meeting mine. I stared up at her, the room dead silent. A grin spread onto her face, a giggle escaping. “I didn’t mean for you to stop. Feels different from when I do it.”

“Good different or bad different?” I asked, still not moving.

“Your fingers are bigger than mine,” she said, rocking her hips forward, my finger rubbing against her. “Definitely a good different.”

I blinked a few times, shaking my head with a big smile. “Y/N Y/L/N. Are you humping my hand?”

“Yeah. And?” she asked, grinding her hips down, biting her bottom lip. 

“Definitely not innocent,” I said, moving my fingers again, Y/N’s lips parting when I slipped a finger inside her wet core, leaving my thumb to rub circles around the bundle of nerves. 

“More,” she whispered, capturing my lips, a breathy moan rising up her throat as I pushed another finger inside. I curled them and rubbed, Y/N’s body sparking like a live wire. “What the fuck…”

I ground my palm against her clit as I thrust my fingers inside her, slamming right against her g-spot. Y/N’s eyes squeezed shut as she full body shuddered, this one clearly pleasant, head shaking once.

“Go with it,” I murmured as she yanked on my hair, her body unsure of what to do with this kind of pleasure. I’d only heard it described to me but I knew there was a difference between a normal orgasm and one that came from hitting that spot deep inside, one her little fingers couldn’t quite reach.

Her jaw dropped as her eyes fluttered open, giving me a chance to lean up and kiss her as she rode out the first wave of an orgasm.

“Dean, Dean, Dean,” she panted against my lips, voice growing higher. Y/N whimpered when she went straight into a second orgasm, her hips jerking frantically, searching for more. 

Finally when her legs were quivering and she put a hand on my wrist, I stopped moving, Y/N rolling onto the bed beside me. She breathed hard with closed eyes, a thin layer of sweat on her face. I carefully started to pull my hand away, her hand squeezing my wrist hard. She forced her eyes open, no shred of worry or fear in them now.

“Do that again,” she whispered, removing her hand from my wrist and sliding it over to my stomach, down towards the obvious bulge in my pants. 

“Y/N-”

“I can trust you, right?” I nodded, Y/N working my belt open. “Then trust me too.”

“Are you sure?” I asked. She smiled, lazily nodding. 

“I’m not the only one with a problem connecting to someone. I’m just the one that cried all over themselves before you helped me. Now it’s your turn.” 

“Okay,” I whispered, Y/N stopping after unbuttoning the denim. Her eyes flickered to find mine, her hand moving up to tickle the skin of my stomach. 

“If you’re with me, you’re with me, Dean. No one else.”

“I already told you, princess. I’m yours.” She raised her chin, satisfied with that answer. But still, she didn’t move. “What’s wrong?”

“Why won’t you commit to anyone? Honest answer.” I closed my eyes, her small hand on my face making me slowly open them. “I’m not going to hurt you either.”

“Part of it is Sam. Feeling responsible, not wanting to feel that pain again. Love would…” I trailed off.

“Someone that can destroy you again.” I nodded, removing my hand from her pants, letting it rest on her hip instead. 

“I don’t want that pain,” I whispered. “And I don’t get it as bad as you but women just want to use me. Date a NFL player and they can launch their influencer careers or model or whatever. So I let them use my body instead and I used theirs and I didn’t have to worry about getting hurt. But that’s not the real reason.”

Y/N ran her fingers through my hair, looking at me with the softest eyes I’d ever seen, reminding me of Sammy for a split second.

“It’s hard to move on when you’re still hung up on the girl from college that wouldn’t give you the time of day.” She swallowed down a thick lump in her throat, watching me oh so carefully, looking for any sign of bullshit. I didn’t blame her one bit. “I told you I had a crush on you.”

“You get over crushes,” she whispered, her voice gentle.

“You do. S’really fucking weird though to get a crush on a girl who went through the same shitty life experience as you, who ended up having as massive of a career as you, all before you ever knew that shit about her. Life’s funny like that, isn’t it.”

“If Sam hadn’t gone missing-”

“I would have pursued you. But I was so goddamn broken my last two years of school, I couldn’t handle that kind of rejection. Everybody thinks Finish Line is such a happy song because of the beat but it’s fucking tragic, isn’t it? I never saw that until after he was gone. I knew only someone in pain could have written those lyrics. Neither one of us back then were ready for a relationship, not when it was so raw.”

“I know,” she whispered. “But I wish I could have been there for you back then.”

“Want to know something embarrassing? I have a playlist that’s just your songs. I listen to it before every game for luck. I would wish I’d said something to you in college because now you’re so beautiful and so famous and I’m the emotionally distant playboy you’d never go out with. I’d have to do something stupid like bribe you into a date by giving to your charity. That guy’s a fucking loser all because he never got over you…and I still don’t know if you just pity me or if you actually might like me too.” Water welled in her eyes again, my hand reaching out to catch it.

“We’re going to make a promise,” she said, holding my hand to her chest. “We don’t hate ourselves anymore. You’re not the playboy anymore. I’m not afraid of moments like this. You’re Dean and I’m Y/N and we like each other. We are two people dating and figuring it out like everyone else in the world. You are not a loser, Winchester. Promise?”

“Promise,” I said, lacing our fingers together. I chuckled, Y/N scooting closer to rest her head on my shoulder. “Look at us. I think we’re getting the hang of this having a healthy relationship thing.”

“People make it seem so hard,” she joked, wrapping her arm around my waist. “Dean.”

“Yeah?”

“I’m glad you harassed me into that date.” I smirked, Y/N growling. “Don’t let it go to your head or I won’t give you a handjob.” 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I teased, Y/N eyeing me as her hand shifted downwards. “Hey, you really don’t have-”

She covered my mouth with a finger, shushing me. “I want to. Just tell me if I can make it better for you, okay?”

“I have a feeling you’re going to do just fine with it, princess.”

One Hour Later

I jogged downstairs, leaving Y/N lax in bed, completely blissed out from another round of orgasms. Turns out she had a pretty damn healthy sex drive. I cut her off at a blowjob though. She’d had an emotional night and I wanted her to feel good, not self-conscious about going too fast. I’d told her to wash up and clean off her face while I dished up our takeout and brought it up. Neither of us had eaten dinner yet and it wasn’t hard to convince her to split a pizza and garlic bread with me. 

Downstairs I poked around her kitchen for a bit before I found some plates, napkins and a pair of water bottles. 

“Here.” I jumped at the sudden voice, spinning around to find Eric setting a pizza box and smaller container on the kitchen island. 

“Uh, thanks. How-”

“Guards at the gate have a card they use to pay for takeout with,” he said, narrowing his eyes at me. “Your hair is tousled.”

I reached up to pat it down, Eric stalking over to me, cornering me against the counter. “Listen-”

“She needs a good man, not a fuckboy.” I cocked my head at him, Eric crossing his arms.

“You don’t know me,” I said, moving past him, setting everything on top of the pizza box.

“Yes I do,” he said behind me, hairs on the back of my neck standing up. “You’re going to butter her up because you share a history, break down her walls until you get in her pants. You’re already getting in, obviously. Once you fuck her a few times, then you’ll be gone, playboy Winchester got the pop princess, like a predator that caught his prey finally. Press will fucking love it and you’ll be able to fuck literally any woman on earth you want to which is all you want, isn’t it?”

I spun around, a dark scowl on his face as I pressed my chest to his, hands clenched by my side.

“You can be an ass to me all you want. You can think what you want. I know you care about her, love her even. So put on the tough guy act all you want. But we both know you wouldn’t have told me where she lives, wouldn’t have given me the magic password if you thought I would hurt her. You know exactly the kind of man I am. I bet you fucking know better than most people in the world, don’t you?”

He had two inches on me and used it to stare me down, his jaw clenched, a vein in his forehead pulsing. “She is not the kind of girl you hookup with. It’s all or nothing with her.”

“I will give her my all. I swear.” He bumped my shoulder as he walked past me, footsteps stopping a few feet behind me.

“If you love her the way I know you do, then you better.”

“How do you know I do?” I asked but he walked away and out the front door. Whatever. He wasn’t my concern anyway. I grabbed the box and headed upstairs, ready to enjoy dinner with my girl.

________

A/N: Read Part 3 here!

[sirdindjarin]

Hell of a View - Rooster x Reader (Nickname Ginger)

This fic is the result of being unbelievably down bad for Lieutenant Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw.

DISCLAIMER: This is only my second finished fanfic, and the first one I've ever published.

Title inspired by Hell of a View - Eric Church and credit goes to @patheticallydimwiiitted for the song rec/bonkin'-in-the-Bronco suggestion.

Don't copy my shit, plz. Not that it's amazing but like, honor code, guys.

WARNINGS: 18+ SMUT (more like sweet smut though), fluff, sexual harrassment/assault references, blood, Rooster punches a douchebag.

WORD COUNT: 5,750

Your skirt flares as you turn to grab the dirty glasses from the bar. As you spin, you feel the breeze from the front door opening. A tall, dark-haired man is walking in toward the bar. 

“What can I get you?” You ask, immediately regretting having spoken as you recognize the man.

“Well, hello, Ginger. Look at you still serving us boys- I figured you’d have been snapped up by now.” He taunts, a hungry look in his eyes at his recognition of you. You’re incensed to hear your favorite nickname come from that mouth once more. It had been given to you by some regular bar patrons after a particularly unfortunate box dye incident, and this man did not deserve to speak it.

Your heart stutters for a second, and anxiety rises in your throat. After three years, the man who harassed you has returned from deployment. You hate confrontation, especially at work. It’s not the best character flaw to have when you work in a Navy bar, but it’s you. 

“You were banned, Jekyll. You’ve been banned for a while now.” It’s said quietly, but you hope it’s forceful enough. In your peripheral vision you see a man’s head turn sharply at your words. He’s behind Jekyll to the left, seated at the piano, yet no longer tinkling random keys. The bar was relatively empty for a Thursday night and the same few songs kept being selected by one blonde man playing pool with a few buddies. Some 70s rock song was whining from the jukebox.

“That’s the thing - it has been a while. I’m not the same,” he insists. “Anyway, someone told me this place lifts bans after a year.” 

“Listen, I don’t know who told you that but they were wrong.” 

The brunette man steps closer to the bar. “I’m sure Penny wouldn’t mind me being here for just one visit. I don’t think you truly mind, either.” His smile is leering. He’s trying to unnerve you. Unfortunately, it’s working. Your mind tumbles back to the feel of his rough hands grabbing your ass like he was trying to leave bruises, his gin-scented words whispered in your face as he pressed you into the wall behind the bar that night. He had taken and dropped the trash bag you’d been holding (“This is no job for a pretty girl”) and held your hands above your head. Once your mind had unfrozen, you managed to knee him and dash inside. He had been after you for weeks at that point. Penny banned him immediately. For good.

“I do mind. You need to go.” You say a little firmer. The glass in your hand is shaking from the memory. The left window behind Jekyll darkens as the silhouette of a man rises. 

“C’mon, swee-” Jekyll starts to say. A hand lands on his right shoulder.

“She said get out, man,” the auburn-haired pianist states. He briefly scratches the corner of his mustache with his other hand - as if he couldn’t be more relaxed. 

Jekyll spins. “What the fuck? Lieutenant Bradshaw?” He laughs, seemingly genuinely pleased to see the man, “Hey, man, how ya doin’?” Then his tone shifts to one a little more antagonizing, “You ain’t been in town for years- you really think you have a say in this, ol’ Rooster boy?”

“Nope. She does, though.” Rooster is so calm, it starts to soothe you, too. You recognize the man who always thanked you after every drink with a “ma’am” despite telling him multiple times to call you ‘Ginger.’ Sometimes when you’d hand him his drink your fingers would touch. He was always warm. Always laughing, singing with anyone. You’d had a serious crush on him since you first saw him. Now, the scars on his neck and chin are illuminated by the sun’s reflection on the bar. His eyes are hard.

“You’re leaving.” You affirm to the other man with the most confidence you’ve felt yet. You set the glass down and begin to walk around the bar. 

“You’re being ridiculous. You’re kicking me out because, what, I fuckin’ complimented you years ago?” He scoffs.

Your steps falter for a second at his callous disregard of his own actions, but you reach the front door and throw it open. Rooster’s eyes look up from your feet and you make eye contact - he had noticed. For a second, you feel self-conscious under his gaze.

Jekyll snaps you out of it. “You’re not even giving me a chance. What a bitch. Stuck up cun-” He doesn’t get to finish the vitriol as his jaw is snapped sideways by the punch. Teeth clack together and a grunt issues forth. Rooster shakes his right hand out once. His lip is curled in a snarl; his eyes flash at the other pilot. You feel your mouth drop open in shock.

Jekyll stumbles - away from Rooster and, unfortunately, toward you - and nearly falls before righting himself. He’s far too close now. 

“What the fuck, man!” He shouts. The entire bar is silent. “I said, what the fuck, Bradshaw?” 

No one says anything. You’re frozen once again as Jekyll looms a couple feet from you. At least you had the benefit of the bar before. Nothing separates you from the anger of the man who now towers over you. His head jerks to you. You’re the easier target.

“This is your fault,” he snatches at your arm, but Rooster is there. He shoves the angry man out the door.

“You know the rules,” Lieutenant Bradshaw laughs roughly, “‘No disrespecting a lady.' C’mon, let’s go, dickhead.” He isn’t suggesting Jekyll go outside alone; it’s a challenge. Rooster stalks out the door after the man into golden-hour light. Your mind spins as you can only watch. The image of Rooster Bradshaw, Hawaiian shirt askew, his knuckles bloody, his hair aflame with the sun, stuns you briefly - and it's a hell of a view.

“You can’t just fucking grab her, and you won’t touch her again. You won’t come back,” Lieutenant Bradshaw orders. “Are you clear on that, Jekyll? I can make it clearer.”

“You’re a fuckin’ pussy. You’re gonna take her side? You’ve known me since A School, man. All this over a four?” Jekyll shouts, insulting you again. 

Rooster takes three powerful strides until he’s in Jekyll’s face but he says nothing. Jekyll’s jaw visibly clenches as if deciding something. 

He makes the decision. 

His left fist slams into Rooster’s stomach; but Rooster was prepared for a low blow, so he hardly bends forward at the pain. However, Jekyll’s right fist lands on the side of Lieutenant Bradshaw’s face, and Rooster staggers sideways two steps. Both men are six-foot-nothing and well-built, but Bradshaw has a stronger emotion than anger on his side. His left hand grabs Jekyll’s shoulder and his right slams into the center of the smaller man’s face once, twice. Jekyll stumbles away again, falling this time to his knees, but he staggers to his feet quicker than you like. His eyes are livid, his mouth and nose full of blood.

Rooster stares him down, a drop of his own blood on the left side of his mouth. His hands are balled and he breathes heavily in anger, facing the sunset. 

“I do not understand your problem here, man,” the banned pilot shouts.

“You don’t need to,” Rooster answers. “You just need to fucking leave.” Rooster straightens his tall frame, and repositions himself so that he’s blocking the entrance to the bar. 

“Know when you're beat, man,” he warns as Jekyll starts toward him, but then a man pushes brushes past you, then another, then a third. The other Hard Deck patrons have seen enough and two of them pull Jekyll away. One man stands in front of the Lieutenant, defusing. Rooster nods once, then deadpans: “Hilarious coming from you, Hangman.” He then turns around to face the building - and you. 

His eyes meet yours, and you’re sure you look terrified. Fights aren’t totally uncommon at the Hard Deck, but fights in which you’re the topic of debate certainly are. Could you lose your job for not stopping the fight? No, surely not. Would Lieutenant Bradshaw get in trouble? Probably, the Navy didn’t appreciate fights between servicemen. It was nice of Rooster to kick Jekyll out, but to continue the fight? How could he have taken that so personally? 

“I’m sorry about that,” you apologize as he nears you, though you did nothing wrong. “I- I never expected him to come back here.”

“‘s’not your fault he’s a fuckin’ dick.” He smirks, his mustache quirking up at the corner. He works his jaw around, testing to see if it was truly damaged. His sweat glistens on his forehead, across the small bit of chest visible in the brilliant light; the veins in his neck are pulsing. You notice his Hawaiian shirt is skill askew and the white undershirt has taken a drop of blood from his mouth. 

“Let me help,” you hear yourself say; your stomach knots. The adrenaline is wearing off and you’re worried about what to say to the intimidatingly beautiful man who just took two punches - For me? You wonder. You start walking into the rear of the Hard Deck. His slow, sure footsteps echo behind you as you step into the cleaning closet and grab a first aid kit. Then into the kitchen for some ice. When you reutrn, he’s seated at a table in the corner. He’s facing you and he looks oddly satisfied, you think. A strangled giggle leaves your mouth at the absurdity of the situation. 

“What?” He asks. “You alright?” When you don’t reply, he continues, “That bastard owes the whole bar a round, but I think he owes you a lot more, honey.”  

You smile softly at the concern, but your heart thuds with his use of the pet name. “Yeah, no, I’m fine.” You debate telling him why Jekyll upset you so easily. You want to open up to him, to explain why you were so shaken when that asshole walked into the Hard Deck. Plus, why should you be ashamed of what Jekyll did all those years ago? That was on him, not you. So, you tell him the short version. 

“A few years ago, he tried to- well, he grabbed- he kind of- touched me.” You finish lamely, partially second-guessing your decision to tell him such an uncomfortable thing.

He’s silent for a moment, his jaw clenching. “Son of a bitch,” he mutters. The veins in his tanned neck are visible again and your mouth is dry. “If I’d known that I’d’ve kept goin’,” he snorts. 

“No, I’m really grateful for your help, but I’m glad you weren’t more seriously hurt,” you say, staring at the small cut on his cheekbone. It ran parallel to one of his other scars. How had he gotten those? The one on his neck looked downright inviting. You shamelessly let your eyes drink him in.

“Mmm, you don’t think I could’ve taken him?” He teases, examining his hand.

“Oh,” you breathe, “I think you could take just about anything.” You weren’t just thinking about fighting anymore, and it resonated in your voice. You bite your lip to prevent further embarrassment spilling from you.

Rooster hears the want in your voice. He's been waiting to hear it. His hooded eyes look up at you through dark lashes and he challenges, “You think you could take anything?” His voice is husky, suggestive.

He lifts up his right hand and you wildly think for a moment he’s going to grab your waist, but then you realize it’s for the bandage you’re holding. You take his hand in your own and carefully wrap the bloodied knuckles with gauze, remembering the times you’d accidentally touched his fingers. You had been right, he was warm. Being close enough to touch him, you smell the sea salt and sweat on him. It shouldn’t be as pleasing as it is. You can feel his eyes on your face, though you keep your own on the gauze. You’re working slowly because you don’t want the moment to end, and you’re afraid of what happens when it does. Your hands tremble, but his are steady. Then, inevitably, you tie the gauze. Your eyes flick up to meet his.

His pupils are blown, the deep honey color of his irises ringing the space you’re falling into. Your stomach drops, leaving you feeling untethered. His mouth opens, his tongue flicking across his lips to wet them absentmindedly. The movement brushes his mustache briefly and you want to do the very same.

“How long is your shift?” he asks, breaking the silence. His dark eyes commanding your attention.

“I close,” you breathe out ruefully, frowning.

“Aw, well that’s a shame, sweetheart.” He drawls, waiting for another answer.

“I’m off tomorrow?” You’re unsure why you phrase it as a question.

His face cracks into a smile that would break your heart if it didn’t send you soaring instead. “How do you feel about flying?”

“Flying?” You’re taken aback. You’ve not been on an airplane in years; the last trip had you kissing the ground upon arrival, but you’re not totally opposed to the idea - especially if your pilot was the best the Navy had to offer.

“Sure,” he answers, “Mav’s got this two-seater we’ve been working on. I think it’s ready for a go.”

You only know who “Mav” is because Penny’s been flirting with him at the bar for the past month or two. Though you had noticed him watching Rooster play and sing, the connection between the two hadn’t been obvious. 

Not wanting to give in too easily, you tease him, “Hmm, could be fun. But I think it depends.”

His eyebrow quirks, “Depends on what?” The chair creaks under his weight as he sits up straight, ready for your stipulations. He’s so tall that even while sitting he’s eye-level with you. 

“On who will be piloting.”

His jaw drops, his hand goes to his chest in mock-offense. “Wow. Just cut me to my core, huh?” His smirk returns, “Alright, fine, offer revoked.” Your mouth drops open to backpedal but he continues to tease, “How ‘bout a drive then? That safe enough for you, ma’am?”

Though truthfully you absolutely trusted him as a pilot, the image of him in his baby-blue Bronco speeding down PCH, the Hawaiian shirt he’d undoubtedly wear blowing in the breeze, was too appealing. You tilt your chin up and answer in a voice you hope sounds seductive, “I think that’d be acceptable, Lieutenant.”  

What neither of you were expecting was his body’s reaction to your use of his title. His eyebrows shoot upward in surprise, his back stiffens. He attempts to subtly shift his hips in an attempt to adjust himself, but he knows you saw. That godforsaken, smug smile, crowned by that retro mustache, returns as he murmurs, “Looks like you better save that for later, darlin’.” He then stands and you’re nearly touching his chest. He slowly steps around you and asks, “Ginger, be here tomorrow for me?” 

____________________________________________________

Since Rooster never specified a time, you show up at the Hard Deck the next day at opening. It’s mid-day and the sun is baking down. You’d take the dry Californian heat over the humidity of the South you grew up in any day. There was a breeze from the ocean which pushed at the bottom of your blue sundress. Sitting down at one of the outside tables, you pull a book from your bag. And if he decided not to come, this wasn’t far from how you’d spend a day off, anyway. 

An hour later, the sun had conquered the shade in which you’d been sitting, so you head inside. Penny is at the bar with Maverick. They smile at you and Penny asks, “So where you guys headed today?”

“I actually have no idea. I don’t even know if he’ll be here for sure.”

“Oh, he’s comin’.” Maverick laughs, smiling fondly.

Smiling in response, you ask, “What makes you so sure, sir?” 

The older man takes a sip of his whiskey and says, “You haven’t noticed? Kid doesn’t take his eyes off you. Most of those piano performances are to get your attention.” He laughs again, shaking his head. “He got that from his daddy.” There’s tenderness in his voice, but you’re unsure why. 

Penny looks at you with a knowing smile on her face - you’d confessed your own crush to her a week ago. It had been a literal confession; she’d caught you paying for his drink without his knowledge. She opens her mouth to say something teasing, but the sound of a vehicle pulling up outside fills the quiet seaside air. Worrying about the teasing the two of you would get if he came inside right now, you smile a goodbye at the couple and rush out the door.

Closing his Bronco door is exactly what you’d pictured the day before: Bradley Bradshaw in a tan Hawaiian shirt and board shorts that show off his long, muscled legs. You’re standing there, hands clasped out of anxiety, as he sees you. His eyes meet yours, but they shamelessly trail down your chest and over your dress. He leans sideways against his truck.  

“Blue’s my favorite color, y’know,” he grins. 

Suddenly you realize you match his truck, and you laugh, “I hope you don’t think I chose the color of my outfit to impress you.” You step a little closer.

“The color is not what’s impressing me,” he blurts, then tries to gloss over it: “You’re ready to go?”

“Yes, sir, I am.” 

It wasn’t an attempt to fluster him, that word was part of your daily vocabulary, but again his cheeks blush and his right hand moves to his waistband, adjusting his bottoms. He clears his throat. You’re confused at his reaction; doesn’t he call you “ma’am” just about every day? He gives you a look you don’t quite get, and he walks around to the passenger door. 

Opening the door for you with his right, he holds out his left forearm for you to grab while you climb up into the car. “Ma’am,” he instructs, proving you were right to be confused. 

Deciding that touching him right now would be in detriment to your own self-control, you grab the handle and hop up in the seat before he can assist. 

He shakes his head and teases, “Independent, huh?” 

“Maybe,” you retort. The door shuts and you watch him as he goes around the hood to his own door. He’s so mesmerizing even just walking. His shoulders roll; he struts. It’s the kind of quiet confidence that strikes you in your core; you’re a little embarrassed as your body responds to something so small. He hasn’t even touched me, you chastise yourself, stop it.

He doesn’t need to jump into the car, his long legs equipped for the job. He turns to you, taking in the sight of you in his passenger seat finally. His mouth quirks into that breathtakingly smug half-smile and you flush with heat. He pops on his dad’s Ray Bans and says, “Alright, baby, let’s go.” 

____________________________________________________

“So, where are we going?” You query. The windows are partially down as Rooster rushes along the Pacific Coast Highway. His speed surprises you; you’re not worried about your safety, but you were thinking it would be a lazy drive and it’s clear he’s distracted.

“There’s a hidden spit of beach less than an hour from town - rock piles on both sides. Not a lot of people know about it, and it’s one of my favorite places to think, to breathe.” He answers, glancing at your reaction to the openness of that statement. 

Since he seems willing, you ask him, “What do you go there to think about?” Your head tilts a little, a lock of your long, brown curls rolling into your face. He notices, debating whether or not that kind of touch is too soon. You move the hair away before he decides, so he answers your question instead, his eyes on the road. 

“Whatever is happening,” he chuckles. “There’s always something.” Then he adds, “We’re nearly there.”

Okay, so maybe not that open. You wait for a moment to see if he’ll say more, but he doesn’t. 

You tease, “Ah, well, that’s fascinating. You’re taking me out here to think with you? It’s hard to use that brain without a little help, huh?” 

His head tilts back as he laughs. “Corny. C’mon, you can do better than that.”

“It made you laugh. That was its job.” 

He glances over at you again, this time with a mischievous look. 

“My brain works just fine, thanks. Can’t say much for yours,” he jokes. “Coming out here with a man you barely know? Not very smart, darlin’.” 

You’re torn for a second - obviously, you trust this man with your life, otherwise you wouldn’t be sitting in his truck, but you can’t help but briefly question: was he making fun of your naivety? Your experience with Jekyll? It doesn’t occur to you that he doesn’t know the details enough to poke fun at you. Your brow furrows for a second, unsure how to process the joke. Your silence makes him uncomfortable. The Bronco slows as he turns onto a sandy side road then stops a few hundred yards from the main road. 

His seat squeaks as he turns toward you; Rooster backpedals, “Hey, you can trust me,” his eyes bore into yours, begging. “Shitty joke.” 

His eyes are alight with concern, his eyebrows knit together. Rooster mentally berated himself. He’d been incredibly turned on by your outfit, your teasing - more than he expected to be. The entire drive he had spent vacillating between kissing you or waiting, not wanting to screw this up. He’d meant to come across as flirty, but he’d stuck his foot in his mouth instead. 

“Oh. No, you’re fine,” you realize the simple miscommunication. “I just misconstrued that.” 

“No, I’m sorry. Really shitty joke. That won’t happen again.” He promises, knowing he’ll keep it. He reaches for your hand, truly apologetic. Your core sparks up as his calloused hand takes yours. You watch, stunned by the feeling of him twining and untwining your fingers with his own. Still trying to read your expressions, he waits. 

You look up and the light in your core ignites into a fireball as you recognize the look in his eyes. Instead of speaking your forgiveness aloud, you place your free hand on his cheek, your thumb caressing his scars. His eyes close blissfully; his mustache tickling your palm as he tilts his head into your hand. It’s the most vulnerable you’ve ever seen a man. 

You both let the moment deepen, and his eyes open slowly, pure desire written in them. He leans in further, and you’re frozen in your seat, hand still holding his cheek. His free hand smooths across your cheek and into your hair. He’s so close you can feel his breath, and your lips part to breathe him in. Your other hand fulfills a wish you’ve had for weeks: you touch the side of his neck, and it’s a dangerous move. His pulse is racing, skin heated like the sand outside. Your thumb brushes over his Adam’s apple and he swallows.

Involuntarily, you moan, “Oh,” and he’s done. 

He nearly crushes his pouting lips to yours, parting your lips further, and you let his wide tongue dip into your mouth. It feels so good to let him in; you want nothing more than the feeling of him everywhere. The warmth sparks down into your thighs, your stomach. The hand in your hair pulls you in further, deeper. His kiss becomes desperate. Your left hand cups his jaw while the other drops weakly into your lap. When your lips gap in between kisses, a low sound escapes him, sending another wave of electricity through you. His left hand moves to your throat, feeling the soft skin, and he drinks in the soft moan you make.  

He breaks the kiss and looks down with lidded-eyes, about to ask you if you’re okay, when you smile up at him. His eyes glance down at your lips again and you can’t take it anymore: you push out of your seat and climb onto him. 

Rooster smiles so widely, you almost cry. You kiss him again, deeper, still deeper, as he continues to make those noises that only he could. His mustache tickles and burns in a way you’d never thought you'd love so much. Your thighs enjoy the feeling of his hands, his thick arms holding you up. God, you’re glad you wore a dress. He’s holding you off of his lap, though, he won’t let you feel him, yet. Your hands work to slip his unbuttoned shirt off, but he’d have to drop his hold to do so. The noises you make probably sound desperate but you don’t care. His biceps flex as he breaks the kiss again, this time to see your face as he lowers you onto his tented shorts. 

The sound that leaves your lips is a cry of relief at the friction, unstoppable. His dick is already hard as steel, and though the shorts prevent any further study, you cry out at the feeling against your swollen self. Without any thought, you grind your hips against him slowly. 

“That’s it, baby,” he groans, lips against your cheek. His mustache sends a tingling sensation across your face and neck. Enjoying the feeling of your body as his fingers stroke your exposed thighs, he tilts his head back, which gives you access to his neck. You can’t stop yourself from dropping to lick and kiss him there, biting gently. He goes nearly weak beneath you. You remember your task of removing his shirt, and you all-but rip it off him. His white undershirt, though covering his chest, leaves none of the muscles in his arms to the imagination. You trail your fingers down his shoulder and bicep, momentarily stunned by them. 

He laughs, “You alright, sweetheart?” 

“You’re kinda hotter than me,” you let slip. 

His face falls; he looks hurt. “Are you being serious?” Unsure how to answer that, and upset you might’ve ruined the moment, you grimace. “Holy shit,” he argues, “This isn’t the most intellectual thing I could say because most of the blood is not in my brain right now, but I’m in the Hard Deck almost every day. I love that place, but I don’t need to see it everyday. You, however, I do. I’ve had to - you know - take care of myself more than once after leaving your bar,” he admits. “And shit, that sounds creepy, but I promise, I-” 

You cut him off with a kiss, apologetic that you let that intrusive thought out. Then your hand moves to his shorts. Under your lips, a hitched moan echoes as you unfasten them and slip your hand inside. Your lips part and you look up into his eyes as you feel the sheer size of him. Slowly, your hand strokes along him. His eyes close in pleasure and he mutters, “Fuck.” That word sends your body into a frenzy: you need him. 

“Please,” you whimper. His grip on your hips tightens. Then, remembering, you beg, “Please, Lieutenant.”

His eyes shoot open, utterly black in his lust. His hips swell upward in response.

Again you push him, “Please, Lieutenant Bradshaw,” and you’re rewarded by the feeling of his dick twitching, straining in your hand still inside his shorts.

He takes you into his arms again, lifting you off his lap. You cry out in protest, but he throws open his door. With your legs wrapped around him, and his arms holding your ass, he gets out and walks to the back of his truck. He sets you carefully on the tailgate, stepping back, and you laugh as you realize the truck bed is filled with blankets. 

“This wasn’t exactly my plan, I promise.” His boyish grin devastates your heart. 

“You had a plan?” You ask playfully. You reach for his hand and pull him back to you, unable to stop touching him. His arm snakes around your back and he lays you down slowly, his hot mouth on yours.

Though you can’t see it, somewhere nearby is the shoreline, you hear the crash of the waves and the call of seagulls. The sun beats down, but the breeze from the ocean chases away most of the heat. You’re warmed now by the golden body of the man above you. Rooster’s thigh splits your legs open, his knee edging your legs even further apart. You giggle, and he grins once more. You pull his white tank top over his head, and your heart stops for a moment as the planes of his hard chest, his abdominal muscles are revealed to you. You had no idea he was this ripped.

He laughs at your reaction and whispers, “Your turn, baby.” His hand skates underneath your dress, up your thigh, savoring your expressions at the feeling. Then he reaches your hip, and his eyes go wide as his hand finds no cloth to remove. 

“I had a plan,” you tease. As you speak, your hands push his waistband down. “One I’ve been thinking of every single day since you walked into the bar. I wanted you so badly, Lieutenant.”

His shorts now below his ass, you start to take him into your hands again but he thrusts against you. His biceps frame your head as he ruts along you, and the cry you make dies with the breeze. His moaning mouth goes to your neck, leaving marks from both lips and teeth. He’s almost feral with want. He sloppily kisses the hollow of your throat, then down across to the neckline of your dress. 

“Need this gone,” he orders.

“Yes, sir,” you start to obey, but before you can even touch the material, his arms flex as he tears your thin dress in two.

You gasp in pleasure as his tongue makes its way through the valley between your breasts, his mustache sweeping. The two of you are totally bare to each other, and you’d have it no other way. He thrusts against you again, leaving you gasping. His tongue enters your mouth with an aggressiveness you can’t help but wilt beneath. The feeling is sensational combined with the contact of his skin on your own; like you’re opening every part of yourself to him. But you know that’s not fully true yet, so you hook your calves around his thighs. Your arms cling around his neck, and you hear yourself moan, “Bradley, please.” 

“I’ll give it to you, sweetheart.” He tilts his head back to look into your eyes. “I need you to look at me, okay?” You see the admiration and the lust filling them as you feel him push into you. The moans from both of you mingle in the salty air. The feeling of him inside you is nearly unbearable.

“Oh, my god,” you cry out. He fills you so well. You’re gasping again, “You’re-” 

He silences you with another deep kiss. His thrusts come hard, but slowly at first. But he’s starving and the sound of his hips slapping your thighs turns both of you on even more. He’s hitting you in a place you weren’t sure existed, building the tension in your body with every push. He leans into your ear, keeping his rhythm, and murmurs, “You drive me crazy. Always. Those low-cut tank tops, your tight shorts,” he sounds like he’s losing control. “You know what you’re doing.” He licks your throat and continues, “You’re mine, darlin’. You’re done for now.” 

His words undo the knot in your core, and your body shudders around him. He smiles and says, “That’s my girl.” But he doesn’t lessen his pace. He thrusts faster, needing to claim you fully. 

Your body still shaking, you gather the presence of mind to breathe in his ear, “I want to be yours.”

And he comes apart, his hips stutter, the powerful feeling of release shocking through him. He buries one final push as he lets go, and he leans his head on your shoulder, panting. 

___________________________________________________

The deepening blue, Southern California sky expands above you. Twilight is approaching and the late hour casts its honeyed light. The breeze whistles softly as Bradley twirls a strand of your hair between his fingers. You lay next to him, head on a pillow, your right arm across his bare body. Your fingers trail the lines of his muscular chest until he disappears under the blanket he’d brought. You briefly wonder what you'll wear home now that your dress is mangled; you smile as you decide to steal his Hawaiian shirt.

“I really did not intend for that to happen. I wanted to do it right with you.” He eventually says, his eyes following a cloud.

“Oh.” You wonder if he’s regretting having moved so quickly. “I’m sorry.”

He shifts to look at you. “No, I just wanted you to know I wasn’t- I didn’t want to just-” He raises his hands in suggestion and makes a face like you know what I mean. He explains, “I mean that I wanted this to be real. A real date. Not a one-time-thing.” He pauses, searching your face, “If you feel the same.” 

Reassured, you tease him, wanting him to say it outright, “If I feel the same as what, sir?” You look up at him innocently.

He huffs a laugh, now knowing your game but playing along anyway. His voice starts dangerously low, intentionally sexy, “The same as how you make me feel, honey. Like the world doesn’t matter as long as you’re nearby.” His voice changes slightly into a confessional, “I feel home when I see you, and yeah, maybe that’s crazy -” He trails off, his eyes dance between yours, trying to read you, wondering if he said too much too soon. 

“I would say that’s crazy - if it were anyone else. But with you…” You reach up to brush your fingertips along his cheeks, his chin. You pull him down for a kiss, pure sweetness in it, willing him to feel your emotions. “With you, Lieutenant Bradshaw, I’ll never have enough of you.”

“Holy shit, you’re it for me.” He beams, pulling you on top of him.  

[sadhornyygirl]

Kinktober

Day 18: Hate-fucking (billy loomis)

- Fear? — Eric repeats the same question in a provocative tone.

She turns her face in the macabre, dimly lit environment, letting me see her irritated expression.

— It’s going to take half an hour, damn it — He says between his teeth.

Jack barks and tries to go after a doll that walks by us singing a little children's song that isn't peaceful.

Eric laughs, but stops when a bloodcurdling scream rings through the room we're in. More people who entered with us begin to scream and scatter throughout the house, disappearing from our sight.

— You talk about me so much, but you're also peeing your pants — Briana teases Eric.

— Oh, shut up and walk — He orders, pushing us forward.

When I go to stow my small bag on my shoulder, my eyes lock on the person with a mask and black hoodie staring at me through the countless pieces of glass. My heart accelerates and I look back, seeing him disappear through a door.

— I don't think we should have come to this shit — I say, still staring at the door where the clown disappeared.

—Are you scared? — Briana laughs, but seems nervous.

— I have a bad feeling... — I say, looking around.

I feel something strange and the masked man intrigued me, even if he was just another attraction.

— Have you seen the place you are in? — Eric is sarcastic, but I see his throat swallow hard.

We move to another room and I scream softly when someone runs their hand through my hair, and when I look back, there's no one there.

— Someone also touched my arm! — Eric says, looking around.

Jack barks and growls, position ready to attack.

— Relax, they're just fantasy people... — She stops talking when a faceless, all-black figure advances towards her. Briana does the most unexpected thing in the world. She punches him.

The figure, which appears to be a guy, staggered back a few steps with his hand on his non-existent nose. Jack barks, but at least he doesn't seem aggressive.

- Cum! — Briana curses, grabbing the hand she used to punch the man.

— Shit, Briana! — Eric says, but he seems to want to laugh — The guy is just working — He walks up to the guy.

Briana rests her hand on her heart looking at her victim with an awkward smile, but I can say for sure that the blood has disappeared from her well-defined face.

Eric laughs, but it stops when zombies start coming through the door Briana is heading towards. She stops in place and starts walking backwards, pulling Jack with her.

— I... I'm afraid of zombies... — Eric whispers next to me, his eyes wide.

When I least expect it, he runs through the other door and Briana follows suit, tugging at the skirt of my dress so I can follow them. Jack tries to stop in place when I see that I haven't even left mine and barks, as if calling me.

My breath catches when I see a spider crawling up the face of one of the zombies, specifically in its eye. Or what's left of it. I scream and run in the direction my friends went.

I see Eric running in another direction and when Briana goes to follow him, a woman dressed in white blocks her path, making her go in the opposite direction. As if her neck was broken, she slowly turns it towards me, fixing her eyes on me.

She walks towards me and I look at the door next to me, seeing the zombies coming. Unable to follow my friends, I run in another direction. I clutch my bag against my stomach, fearing it will fall in the process. A man with a knife comes up to me and I widen my eyes, entering the first room I find.

I slam the door, locking it and move away from it a little. Someone turns the doorknob trying to get in, but fails miserably. I sigh, relieved that at this moment I have at least a little peace in the chaotic environment.

That's what I thought, but chills rise throughout my body and I swallow hard, looking back. Standing just a few meters away from me is the same masked guy who stared at me in the mirror. He takes a step forward and I take another step back.

I turned my back and walked towards the door, grabbing the handle. Just as I'm about to turn it, a hand slams against the old wood, making me jump in fright. My heart is in my mouth, refusing to beat properly again.

He's after me, and has me right where he's wanted me this whole time. Alone.

I take my pocket knife out of my bag and slowly turn towards him, raising my eyes to him.

- Who are you? — I ask with a trembling voice, gripping my knife tightly.

The stalker is leaning on the door by his elbows, his arms on either side of my head, trapping me in his cage. And I don't know if I'll be able to get out of it.

- What you want? — I insist, ready to kill him if necessary.

The stalker tilts his head to the side, seeming to study me.

— I won't ask again — I say through gritted teeth — Who. Cum. AND. You? — I ask for the last time.

He takes one of his hands away from the door and carefully, I see his hand go up my neck, his fingers sliding over my skin in a gesture that I almost don't feel. He grabs my neck, pressing me against the door.

The gesture is so familiar that my heart missed a beat when I recognized it.

146

— Billy… — His name leaves my lips in a whisper.

For proof of something I feel deep in my bones, I reach for the back of his head, and rip off the mask in a quick motion.

A gasp escapes me as I stare at the messy strands falling into the cruelest icy eyes I've ever seen. And they're staring at me with unparalleled amusement and mischief.

—Are you calmer, love? — He asks in a hoarse voice, looking into my eyes.

I swallow hard, trying by some miracle to get through the door with the strength of my mind. He's too close for my own good.

— Are you silent now? he asks, stroking my chin with his thumb.

His eyes scan my entire face with a kind of adoration, but there's also anger in them.

— I told you to leave me alone, you psychopath — I find my voice, moving his hand away from my neck.

Even though my skin misses your touch, I ignore it.

— And I said you only had a few hours to calm down — He says, resting his arms on either side of my head — Tick tock, time up, little monster... — I smiled.

I take a deep breath, clenching the blade.

— I don't want you anymore, can you understand that in that sick mind of yours? — I touch my own temple — We're done here, whatever shit we had — I lift my chin.

Billy laughs softly, shaking his head. I just feel the anger slowly grow in my chest, radiating throughout my body.

— Own, I love your naivety — He leans towards me until our noses almost touch — You'll have to kill me if you want this to end — He slides his nose along my cheek.

— As you wish — I reply, raising the knife towards his neck.

I don't know if it was anger or an impulsive desire, but I really intend to kill Billy. But he notices it too quickly, managing to dodge in time. But not enough to stop me from cutting your left cheek.

Billy lets go of me, taking a few steps back. He touches his cheek, staring at his blood-stained fingers. Then he lifts his head, letting me see the small cut, about two centimeters long.

I slightly widen my eyes when I see his darken darkly. I move my gaze down when a bulge in Billy's pants catches my eye. He's hard?

In response, I clench my thighs as I feel my core throb.

- Congratulations love. You just need to be more accurate — Billy says through his teeth in a dark voice, approaching me with blood running down his cheek.

He makes to grab me, but in one quick movement, I manage to hit his groin with my knee. Billy lets out a grunt, falling to his knees in front of me. I don't think as I turn to the door and open it.

Before I can pass it, a huge hand grabs my ankle and I turn to Billy. I kick his face with my other foot, making him fall on his side and consequently letting me go.

— If you wanted to play tag, you just said so, love! — I hear Billy scream, and it seems so, so close.

Desperate, I quicken my steps, feeling my heart want to come out of my mouth. It's like a horror movie and Billy is the ghostface trying to kill me. Following me. He comes without rushing because he knows that at the end of this, he will eat me alive.

I go into a room where there is no one and lock the door.

— Little monster... — Billy knocks on the door — Let me in, okay? You don't want me to blow and knock it over... — He says between his teeth, then laughing.

— Fuck you, you sicko! — I growl, running towards the other door that will lead me out.

— I bet you're wet right now... — Billy says, making me stop with my hand on the doorknob — Are you turned on by all this chasing? Is your pussy dripping for me, love? — He asks in a hoarse voice.

I rub my thighs together, denying myself. Refusing to believe that I'm enjoying this. No, I abhor what he's doing now. Because admitting that his pursuit turns me on is also admitting that I'm just as sick as he is. I ignore how affected I am and open the door, running into the other room. I need to get out of here, I need to find my friends and get out of this damn house.

I walk past her when they grab my hair from behind and pull me back inside, making me scream. I try to hit Billy again, but he grabs my arm and pins it behind my back, turning me to face him.

- Let me go! — I command, trying to pull my arm from his grip.

Billy looks up at me and my breath catches in my throat when I see the cut I made on his cheek and the thin, short trickle of blood escaping his nose. Consequence of my kick.

— Every time you use that knife on me, I get harder — He says, licking his lips while staring at mine.

Yes, I can feel the bulge poking my belly.

— It's because you're crazy — I say with disdain, raising my chin in affront.

— Yes, for every detail of yours — He says between his teeth, grabbing my hair with one of his hands again — But damn, I want to kill you now — He growls, squeezing my throat.

I stand on my tiptoes as his grip becomes almost unbearable and I feel my pussy throb. Traitor.

— She calls me sick but she's rubbing her thighs like a masochistic little bitch just because she's being hanged — She tilts her head to the side, looking at me.

— I knew you were sick, but not to the point of delirium — I tease with a smile, my voice muffled by his hand on my neck.

— I love your debauchery, but I'm very angry with you, love... — He says — You hurt my dick, but I'm sure it wasn't because you wanted to, right? — He asks with an affectionate intonation.

— I'm sorry, next time I'll make sure your heirs aren't born — I smile disdainfully.

I try to free myself once more, but it seems impossible.

— Next time, they'll be growing in your belly — Billy smirks, letting go of my hair and running his thumb along the wrist of my neck.

— Kneel — he orders, making me throb.

— I'm going to hate you at the end of all this, Billy — I whisper.

He nibbles my lip.

— Lie with your mouth on my dick — Send it.

He squeezes my scalp and I moan, falling to my knees in front of his body. Looking from below, it gets even bigger. It's like a giant that can crush me at any moment.

He lets go of my hair and takes his own hands to the zipper of his pants, pulling it down and undoing the button. He reaches into his underwear and pulls out his dick. It stands before my lips and I sigh, seeing it harder than ever.

The head is so red and the veins stand out around it. The pre-cum leaks out, sliding through him.

"Him," Billy ordered.

Looking at him in defiance, I place the thick head of his cock in my lips, sucking it. The salty taste of cum explodes on my palate and I go down even further, putting almost half of it in my mouth.

I see Billy throw his head back and groan, but still looking down at me. I narrow my eyes at him the moment I bite down on his dick. He curses, gripping my strands hard enough for me to let go and walk away.

— If you only knew how much this turns me on... — I smiled, sliding the head of his cock past my lips.

The gag reflex kicks in but controls it in time, at the exact second that Billy drags himself out and comes back with a vengeance. Tears well up in my eyes from the lack of air, but I find myself relaxing my jaw and moaning around his cock. My thighs tighten and I try to keep up with his rhythm.

He doesn't let me reason when, with his hand in my hair, he pulls me up. Billy turns me onto my back and presses my cheek to the cold wall, and I feel his cock between my thighs. He lifts my dress and then I feel a tug and the sound of tearing fabric. My panties.

- What are you doing…? — I ask even though I know the answer.

Billy doesn't answer me, he just shoves himself inside me and in a quick gesture my eyes widen at the sudden intrusion, my head kicking back and a scream escaping my numb lips.

— Fucking beg — He orders, his hand grabbing my neck.

I smirk slightly, pulling the knife away from his neck and grabbing the back of his head as I lean towards him. My lips brush his as I wrap one of my arms around his shoulders, hugging him.

— Please fuck me. Take me…” I whimper, pulling his lip towards me.

I scream loudly when in one quick movement, Billy thrusts himself inside me without an ounce of gentleness at the same time he bites one of my nipples hard. I should be disgusted by all this violence towards me, but I look more and more ready to explode.

I hate that. I love that.

I scream as the orgasm explodes, taking over my entire body and clouding all my senses. I hear nothing but a thin buzzing sound and see nothing other than the stars twinkling in my field of vision.

I whimpered as my orgasm-sensitive pussy contracted around him. Around your dick that seems to want to tear me in half. He fucks me so hard that I choke and I don't know where he starts or where I end.

— S-Stop... I can't take it anymore — I moan, scared by the desire that grew again in my stomach.

Billy's laugh makes my pussy throb and suck him in, like it's hungry and only he can finish it.

My body is turned sideways and one of Billy's hands is on the side of my head, while the other is holding me by the thigh, pulling me against his body. This position allows me to feel his cock from a different angle.

It feels deeper.

— I...I'm going to cum again — I cry. I'm so sensitive it hurts.

His hips don't stop and my breathing quickens.

— I-I'm going to... I'm going to pass out — I whisper with a broken voice as my legs shake.

But Billy ignores me, his hips speeding up and his thrusts becoming more animalistic. I cry, shaking my head as I flatten my hand on his broad chest through his sweatshirt.

— Even if you deny it, your body is mine, as is your heart. And no one else can have them, love.

Just when I think he's going to continue, his whole body goes rigid and he stops abruptly, spilling himself inside me. Hot jets fill me and it's impossible not to moan and whimper at the sensation.

— You have until tomorrow at 11:59 pm to stop acting like a spoiled brat and start believing in me again. — Speak, giving me a peck.

[southparktexts]

hii! can i request the main 4 (plus craig if you write for him please) with reader who's afraid of thunderstorms and stuff. thank you! absolutely love your new layout 🖤

-🦇

Main four + Craig with a reader who has a fear of thunderstorms

goddamn thats a long fucking title, of course 🦇 anon !! i missed you

Kyle :

- i can imagine you guys were over at his house, studying.

- you were studying on his bed near the window and he was studying at his desk.

- the weather had been acting up lately so it eventually led to thunder.

- you jumped at the sound, running to kyle.

- he tilted his head at you.

“..whats wrong sweetheart?”

“..thunder. im scared, ky.”

- when i tell you his heart MELTED when you ran over to him for security it genuinely did.

- held you tight and put you onto his lap.

“shh.. shh.. its alright darling.. were inside.. its not going to hurt you.”

“…but what about-“

“no baby, its not going to hurt you.”

- holds you tight and kissing your face occasionally.

- rubbing circles into your back as you shake in his arms.

- basically a praising machine.

“good girl.. just like that.. its not gonna hurt you, just breathe.”

- holds you tight like hes about to lose you.

Stan :

- you were currently over at his place at the farm.

- normally the two of you guys just hung out in his room, except today was different.

- you were downstairs helping stan’s mom while stan wrote songs for his band.

- eventually, stans mom made him dinner and you walked into his room to hand it to him.

- you put it down onto his bedside table when you heard a loud bang of lighting.

- you jumped onto stans bed, shaking slightly.

“babe? whats wrong?”

“..thunder.”

- he immediately put down whatever he was doing to come comfort you.

- he’s a silent person, he cuddles you but doesn’t say anything.

- rubbing circles on your back and patting you.

- rocking back and forth and planting kisses onto your head as you hug him for security.

- holds you tightly so you feel safer.

- a very, silent sweetheart.

- he would maybe check up on you after a few minutes of it being over.

- 30 minutes or so.

“baby how you holding up?”

“..alright.. thank you for being there stan.”

Kenny :

- he was over at your house and you were both in your kitchen.

- he was helping you make dinner for you and him when you heard the thunder.

- you flinched, almost dropping the plate.

- at this point he didnt even need to ask if you’re okay because he knows your not.

- you are SHAKING while you try cracking egg.

- biting your lip trying not to panic.

- immediately turns off the stove and holds you from the back, tightly.

- imprinting soft kisses onto your forehead.

- giving you a soft shh.

“its okay, its okay.. its just thunder.. nothing to worry about..”

- huge praiser.

“thats a good girl, just like that. breathe for me.”

- you guys stay there for a hot minute until the end of the thunderstorm.

- he waits until you stop shaking and helps you cook again.

Cartman :

- you guys were cuddling on the couch, watching movies.

- it was one of those days where you and cartman didnt do anything but cuddle and watch.

- that all changed when the thunder started.

- you shook and eric noticed

“honey, you okay?”

- you shook your head no and he nodded.

- you guys continued to cuddle and he rubbed your arm using his hand.

- eventually called for his mom.

“MEEMMM CAN YOU MAKE Y/N SOME COOKKIESS”

“okay snookums!”

- asks // demands his mom to make you your comfort food as you continue to watch and get your mind off things.

- not vocal at all during all this.

- he prefers his actions do the talking for him.

- feeds you popcorn while you watch the film because you’re too shaken up by the thunder to grab some.

- cuddles you until you feel better.

Craig :

- after dating tweek you cannot tell me this man is not prepared for this.

- definitely did research on what to do just in case.

- you were at his house playing with stripe and cuddling on the bed when thunder went off.

- you flinched almost scaring stripe.

- craig let out a unbothered sigh and got up from his side of his bed, walking up to his wardrobe and pulling out a box.

- it was a box of anxiety stress toys // figets.

- you smiled at the gesture, shaking as you hand over stripe to craig.

- craig has one arm wrapped around you as you play with the stress toys in silence

- craig is definitely not one to talk like eric and stan but he’s more to be a comfort.

- he definitely lets you bury yourself into him for maximum security.

- soft kisses on your forehead and playing with your hair.

- keep in mind this is rare when it comes to craig because he doesn’t show affection as much.

- afterwards he would talk.

“honey, are you doing alright after that?”

“..yes, thank you love.”

- buys more figets after that.

[george-weasleys-girl]

Uhm, it's the last one now 🙈

Can I send you this one again? Wordsmith - Send me a trope/prompt, and your choice of either George or Fred, and I will weave you a short blurb. Please? Thank you 😌

And again with George Weasley with this prompt, "Lay a finger on her, and I will end your life, and I mean that very seriously." and this trope hurt/ comfort

I hope it's okay 🙈

Voices Carry

George Weasley x Fem!reader

Warnings: emotionally abusive relationship, gaslighting, cursing

~•~

Inspired by the song Voices Carry by 'Til Tuesday.

~•~

"I told him I was done with his bullshit," Y/N said. "Then I threw my glass of wine in his face and took off those god-awful shoes he made me wear and threw them at him too."

"And right in the middle of the restaurant, too," George laughed. "I would've loved to have seen the look on his face."

"Me too. He was too busy trying to crawl under the table for me to get a good look." Y/N gave him a sheepish grin and then looked down.

George titled his head down to get a look at her face. "You did good love. I'm glad you finally kicked him to the curb."

Y/N sighed. "Yeah, I know. But I should've done it sooner. I just kept thinking things would get better if I said or did all the right things. That he'd... I don’t know... be better, you know?" She gave a bitter laugh. "Godric, I'm such a fucking idiot."

George moved to sit beside her. "You are not an idiot, Y/N. If anyone is an idiot, it's him for not seeing the treasure he had in you. Any guy with half a brain would be proud to have you on his arm."

"Oh, um, thanks." Y/N took a sip of her wine. "That's really sweet of you to say."

"I say it because it's true."

A brief, shy smile quirked at the corners of her lips, and she took another sip of wine. "Hey - um," Y/N began. "I was wondering if I could crash here for a little while?Just until I save up a deposit for my own place."

"Of course," George put his arm around her. "You can stay as long as you need."

"Thanks," she said and leaned her head on his shoulder.

~•~

George let go of the breath he'd been holding for what seemed like ages. Over the past several months, he'd stood by helplessly as Y/N's now ex-boyfriend, Eric, attempted to mold her into a shape that didn't tarnish his precious image.

"Why do you talk so much?"

"Why do you laugh so loud?"

"Nobody wants to hear that."

"Why do you insist on dressing like that? You look terrible."

"Stop crying! God, why are you so sensitive about everything?"

"Work run late? Or were you too busy flirting with your boss?"

The bastard took and took and took from her until she was a ghost of the confident, vibrant woman George had grown to love.

"I never thought I'd hate someone," he'd confided to Fred. "But I hate him so much it hurts. Y/N just has to give me the word, and they'll never find his fucking body."

~•~

The raised voices in the back corner of the store caught George's attention almost immediately. He turned the corner, and his vision ran red. Eric had Y/N pinned against the wall, one of his fists raised.

Before he could strike, George had him by the collar, pulling him off Y/N and backward into a shelf of Extendable Ears. The display tilted, spilling its contents in all directions and causing Eric to trip and fall forward onto George, who pulled him up to eye level. "Lay a finger on her, and I will end your life, and I mean that very seriously."

Eric sneered, twisting himself out of George’s grasp. "I don't know why you want to waste your time on that worthless - "

George's fist slammed into Eric's face cutting off whatever else he was about to say. He stumbled back, cradling his bloody nose. "You broke my fucking nose!" He bellowed. The younger twin rolled his eyes and grabbed Eric's collar once more, dragging him with one hand down the stairs and through the store to the entrance. He threw open the door and tossed Eric out. "Stay away from Y/N, or next time, I'll break more than your nose," George snarled, then slammed the door shut.

~•~

"Are you sure you're ok?" George poured Y/N and himself two hefty shots of firewhiskey.

"Yeah... yeah, of course."

He eyed her over his glass but said nothing.

"Look, I'm really sorry," she said. "I never dreamed he would do something like that."

"Love, that wasn't your fault," George replied. "I still can't believe he had the audacity to strut right in as if I wouldn't wipe the floor with his pompous ass."

Y/N giggled a little at that. "I must admit it was kinda fun watching you drag him through the store."

"It was kinda fun doing it," George chuckled and then downed his whiskey. "So, umm... Fred and I have been talking. How do you like the spare bedroom? Are you sleeping well enough?"

"Uh, yeah, it's good," she smiled. "The bed is super comfy."

"That's great!" George grinned. "How would you feel about becoming our roommate?"

Y/N's eyes widened. "Roommate?"

"Yeah, I really love you being around all the time, and I'd... miss you when you move out."

Y/N went very still and very quiet for a few long moments. When she finally spoke, her voice was barely above a whisper. "I - I'd miss you too."

"You would?" George looked stunned. "Really?"

Y/N nodded. "I really would."

"So, does that mean you're staying?"

"Yeah," she smiled. "I'm staying."

~•~

@milivanili99 @fancy-pantaloons @turvi @zvummyummy @xmjthewitchx @pansexualwitchwhoneedstherapy @georgie-weasley @samberriejams @nighttimemoonlover @jsjcue @wzrd-wheezes @mrsgweasley @hufflepuffie @morally-grey-obsessed @fredweasleyyyyy @anvaaryn @lastwandastan @samshifts @asuperconfusedgirl @hmisa11 @superduckmilkshake @mysticsheepsoul @gemofthenight @1lellykins @junerprsh @sierraluvz @wolfkill16 @kaysau2510 @qmylovexoxo @planetkt @costheticbabe @drama-queen-fromthevault @thatonepersonwhocantwrite @smallsweetvanillabean @themaraudersslut @hanne-montana @greenapplegrass @el-de-phi @lizzytrees @scooby-doo1995 @phant0mkitsune @spididerman

[kira-broflovski]

Elven King || Kyle Broflovski x Reader

NOTE: i played stick of truth and wow i really want to write some fics based around that game now

summary: you finally returned home after being away from south park for so long and ran into your old crush

Trekking through the sea of green, you finally found it. The very spot that changed your life forever.

Memories of your childhood came flooding back to you as you stared out across the pond, it's breath-taking beauty never changing in the eight years you've been gone.

As you looked around the area more, you noticed things that were never taken down: the custom direction signs you made for the sake of immersion, or the little dens made out of large sticks that you and your friends would sit in for shelter during the summer heat. How has nobody destroyed them yet?

You decided to sit on the man-made bench, which was located towards the edge of the pond, that has been there for as long as you can remember.

Perfectly timed, one of your favourite songs from childhood started playing on your phone. The familiarity and nostalgia was getting to you as you thought about the people you cared about the most during that time.

You had left without a word. No goodbye, no explanation. Nothing.

On top of that, your phone was taken away from you so you couldn't even text or call anyone.

After everything that happened, your parents had decided to move away suddenly and never gave you a chance to see your friends again. They don't tell you anything so you don't know what made them move back to your hometown.

You couldn't help but wonder: do your old friends still live here? Do they even remember you? Or have they moved on with their lives?

You continued to sit there and drown in the memories attached to this quaint, moutain town.

What are your old friends up to now?

----

"You don't listen to me, you never fucking do!" The red-haired boy exploded towards his parents before storming out the front door.

He made his way to his usual spot. The spot where his life changed forever.

Kyle comes here everyday and waits for hours, sometimes his friends join him but he prefers to be alone. It's routine for him.

Everyone knows exactly why he comes here. People even join him in hopes of maybe getting an answer to the question: what happened to Y/N?

Nobody knows, but everyone remembers you.

Kenny kept that daffodil alive for years as it was the first time anyone had given him a flower, even if it was for a roleplaying game. Eric kept the weapons you made for him, as did most of the boys, he just claimed he never got around to getting rid of them. Stan kept his cape that you fixed for him after he got it ripped during a duel between him and Tolkien.

Then there was Kyle. He kept every single thing you made for him, and he even had an entire box kept safe under his bed filled to the brim of all your gifts.

The items ranged from flower crowns for various occasions and accessories that made him truly look like the elven king he chose to play, to printed out photos of you and him from all the good times you shared together.

Snapping back to reality, he realised he finally made it to his destination.

He knew the route to where all the best memories were made like the back of his hand. The amount of times he has sat and waited in case you showed up, like you were a mythical creature. The Dragonborn.

Sunlight seeping through the leaves was always so pretty, to both you and Kyle. It also served as an indication of being close to your shared favourite spot.

Following the desire path that was made as a result of everyone involved in your childhood game, he was getting closer to the area.

It took a second for him to realise he was following the sound of humming. That's wholesome.

Wait.

His head snapped down from admiring the luscious trees.

Could it be?

He turned the corner. There you were, but... was it really you? He decided to hide behind a tree closer to you.

Meanwhile, you sat there blissfully unaware of your old friend's presence. You were thinking about him, and how happy he made you. You'd be lying if you said you didn't like him when you were younger.

You wondered how things would have been if you stayed. Would you ever get the chance to be with him? Is he still the hot-headed boy that had a soft spot for you? How does he feel about the entire situation. Did he feel the same at the time?

The song coming to an end, you decided to just turn the music off entirely and enjoy the peace of nature.

That's when you heard rustling and the sound of a twig breaking behind you, followed by someone muttering. "Shit."

You turned around and saw none other than...

"Kyle Broflovski?" Your eyes widened in shock as they met his inquisitive eyes.

"Y/N L/N?" A warm grin crept it's way onto his face. He offered his hand, and you eagerly took it. "Oh my— look at you!"

Your face was growing hotter by the minute as he looked you up and down, not in a weird way, just in disbelief that you're here.

"You're really here!" He was seconds away from bursting into tears as your mere presence let the memories flow back to him all at once.

"Do you need a hug?" You asked bashfully, exactly how you used to when you were kids. Your hugs always made him feel better whenever he was feeling some sort of negative emotion.

"C'mere," he mumbled and pulled you into his arms.

The two of you spent hours catching up and reminiscing on your childhood. After a while, you asked about everyone else and that's when he explained everyone still lives there. It was only you who ever moved away.

"Do you want to go see everyone?"

[n0tangeliccc]

🍼anon here: i keep getting baby tiktoks and it’s really pushing the baby fever here😭😭😭

ANYWAY to spread my ‘sp main 4 as dads’ agenda i’ve brought some ideas to the table

Stan sings to his kid, like hes got like songs STACKED definitely “Dear Winter” by AJR 🤧🤧

Kenny tried to teach his kid a curse word as their first word

Kyle gave your kids hella curls, definitely did their hair all the time. Esp if he has a daughter 🤭

Cartman definitely taught his kids video games early on

Oh yeah tiktok pretty much stared this whole baby fever shit it’s so bad😭😭

Please do keep spreading the agenda with your amazing ideas 🍼 anon🙏 I love them so much🤭

Anywaysdd-

Yes to Stan, might I also say Mockingbird by Eminem 👀

Kenny’s trying to get the baby to either say fuck or bitch 100% like you cannot tell me other wise lmao

As Kyle got older he got a reallllyyyy good curly hair routine and he will make his kids get one!! If he has a girl he instantly starts learning how to style her hair, she always has her hair neatly done.

Kenny and Kyle are girl dads 100%‼️‼️

Eric not only taught them video games but he taught them the most violent ones you can think of LMAO

[onyourhyuck]

Dive. | K.JW

— Prologue: “What I’ve always dreamed about, diving into you.”

— Summary: It’s not easy being rivals with Jungwoo in a competitive music industry workplace. You’re both striving to be the better one.

— Genre: Romance office setting. Office smut minors dni. Jungwoo is always hating on y/n here. Y/n is trying to be civil. There will be a lot of angst + y/n has little traumatic fear of being yelled at. There is little fluff and wholesomeness between them later on. Mutual masturbation over call? Y/n cries at one point in the fic. They hook up later on. Dom!jungwoo. Jungwoo’s actually very whipped for Y/n he just has a hard time showing it.

— Notes: Prompt idea from @yujuvly

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

You’re rushing out of your car not even properly dressed your clothes being half on you and half off you. You couldn’t look in the mirror because you’re late to work and today was the day you get a partner to work on a project of your choice. You work for a music industry music company where a bunch of song writers produce lyrics to certain boy or girl groups, even solo musicians such as Eric Nam. You’re very talented because you have an unique imagination but what you lack was time management.

You couldn’t help it. Last night you couldn’t sleep and you went to bed late because of that now you’re rushing on your way to work. Your hair was done but covered by the wind outside messes it up and all your hard work on your hair went down the drain. You hold your high heels you wear to work in your hand, your blazer and trousers were properly zipped up. You fidget in the elevator picking the number ten.

Looking in the elevator mirror you fix the roughed up crinkle clothing on you, cussing gentle and breathing heavily out. You brush your hair with your fingers as it’s the only thing you can do to fix that hair problem — next you take off your trainer shoes and put on the heels.

When the elevator opens you get off and walk to the music song writing department which is you. Your ID card around your neck scans access opening the door department and you walking in caused so many people to go and stare at you.

Your boss mentally slaps himself seeing you walk in and you bow down to your boss hoping he will forgive you this once for your mistake.

But you had a feeling someone else wouldn’t forgive you.

“I’m sorry for being late boss.” You said out genuinely terrified but your boss seems reluctantly with you for once he weren’t screaming at you. He looks up giving you the meeting details in one singular file. “Forget it. Go to your new partner, you’re meant to come up with a song good enough for the biggest company in whole of South Korea.”

Your eyes widen. “SM Entertainment?”

“I know you’ve been my star employee for a few months but Jungwoo has more experience. He might help you out. Now leave my office get to work.” He nodded and you slowly turn around looking at the file as you left his office. You sit down at your desk and shockingly gasp out wanting to pull your hair. ‘Why am i paired up with Kim Fucking Jungwoo?’

The devil himself appears at your desk not impressed nor glad to be paired up with you. Jungwoo sat down next to your desk slamming down the files and staring at them but his mean disliking voice that did nothing to hide his disappointment with you speaks to you and your shimmering confidence.

“You were late. How are you still allowed to walk into this building without being under the impression that you’re probably the worst worker here?”

You turn around trying to be kind as possible but today it just wasn’t going with your mood. You weren’t feeling as kind as before and today wasn’t exactly your best day.

“You’re going to keep being like this just because our boss likes me better and prefers my song writing to yours.” Your fake smile could boil Jungwoo down a large cauldron and he wouldn’t even notice how your sarcasm was there.

Jungwoo is a young handsome man working in the same company as you. He is your work rival, work nemesis, work enemy. You name it anything against you and he’s exact definition of that. He had it out for you ever since you joined. Ever since the first day you arrived to this department he made it clear he disliked you and wanted nothing to do with you. You hate that you don’t dislike him though you just find him unbearable to deal with because he’s using all his energy to hate you everyday. You come to work and all you see was Jungwoo demanding you do this right or he disagrees how your work style is different from him and now I’m appearing to be the wrong one. He acts like he’s better than you.

He was handsome though and you couldn’t lie about that the first day you met him you deem him to be a cute man who looked kind, he had this sweet alluring aura about him on his face. He was quite pale but he looked smooth and innocent. His large doe like eyes were almost like puppy eyes constantly and you found yourself staring at them a lot. He was tall surprisingly very tall. He’s the tallest out of you and the rest of your coworkers.

But the moment his mouth opened it was quite the legit opposite of whatever cute was or handsome will ever be. The first thing he said to you was “I don’t like your outfit today. Please don’t wear this colour to the office again. You’re distracting everyone from their work.” You wanted to tell him that’s absurd. You wanted to tell him ‘Girl it’s legit navy blue how is it..’ but you didn’t. You stayed respectful! You stayed the kind one and the wiser one stepping down.

He glares not liking that you hit where it all was soft and mushy in his heart. Ever since you came to the company he wasn’t star employee and you got the attention unlike him. He was the best till you came and now he’s got a freaking rival to deal with. He’s constantly fighting to be no.1 but you’re in the picture all the fucking time. It’s starting to feel like you’re here to punish him. But instead you don’t understand why he’s like this to you.

You don’t even understand why he’s so mean to you all the freaking time, you just assume he is like that to everyone. You don’t care though he can do whatever he wants, you’re going to stay on top because you’ve worked hard to get here. Your hard working can’t go down the drainage like this.

“I don’t need to be like this because of that. I just don’t like you and your attitude towards the work is mild and lazy. You’re work to this company has done nothing. I don’t want you to be my partner because you will take all the damn credit.”

You wanted to roll your eyes at him when he said this. Seriously ‘Take all the damn credit?’ What does he take you for a Freud? A con artist? You couldn’t believe your ears but Jungwoo truthfully disliked you because he just did and you can’t help it but slam down your keyboard.

The loud slam in the office coming from your keyboard as you stood up from your chair. Jungwoo flinched suddenly wondering why the heck did you do that until you face him announcing loudly.

“I’m going to get coffee.” You stare blankly turning around tiredly of his bullish tone and his bullying words. Jungwoo glares murmuring. “What a psycho… geez does she need to vandalise the building.” He whispers as you left to make your own coffee in the staff room.

You don’t think you can survive being partnered up with Jungwoo. There are way more cons than pros to this but you hope and pray that the pros can out weight the cons and therefore it’s not going to give you a bad performance rate.

You need this promotion. You need it. You also know Jungwoo needs it. You won’t let him have it however so no matter what you’re going to try your hardest.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

It’s officially the time where you might reconsider leaving the department because Jungwoo being your working partner was the worst decision ever you might feel like this might start a whole new war between you both and you don’t need that on a pile of him being your nemesis, enemy and rival all in one. God he doesn’t need another factor to become your reasoning of death either.

It’s been two days since working together and when you say ‘working together’ you mean segueing an argument about every song you’ve wrote opposite wise. You both have different music tastes for SM entertainment you’d want to use and you can’t submit two you have to submit one that you both produce together. Together. Yes together and you’re not doing that exactly. You’re working separately because you both refused to.

“Look maybe you need to stop writing and let me do all the writing and all the producing and all the everything and you can just sit there and look like a dumb lost child.” Jungwoo snapped.

You sit there rubbing your hands through your hair unbelievable of the man in front snapping at you when you’re at your wits end with him. You can’t do this anymore and you just turn around with your child very slowly paring your dagger pushing eyes into him.

You try to be kind no matter what. You respect him. He isn’t respecting you. But you know very well you can’t snap at him because you don’t have the meanness in you to do something like that to him.

“Jungwoo that’s not working together.” You say back and Jungwoo looks away scoffing. “It is. Your name will be on my piece of work isn’t that enough for you?”

‘What a jerk.’ You thought.

“Is there anyway i can help i don’t want to sit back and do nothing. I’m also working here Jungwoo.” You look back at his song writing sheet grabbing it from his desk, the man turns around twisting to grab it back but you held it with your hands. “Here how about i make your ballad bridge better? That way some of my work is on there.” You said with a smile looking up.

His gaze didn’t change but his eyebrows twitch in annoyance grabbing the paper off your fingertips snatching it away and him turning around scowling, rudely pulling at your attempt towards his work. “You can’t do anything to help. You’re bad at song writing alright, just go home or something.” He urges.

“You’d do me so much more good if you left and stopped distracting me.” He says and you stand there feeling useless and completely beaten down by his horrible words to you.

Your gaze sadly looks over closing the computer and standing up grabbing your jacket and bag. You don’t say anything until you sigh looking at him.

“Suit yourself. Call me when you’re done.” You say blankly not fighting with Jungwoo anymore. You’re tired and it is what it is. You can’t work with him because he refuses, so might as well join em if you can’t change them.

You left the night hours where your attention goes on to the phone contact calling. ‘Honey’ and it was your boyfriend. Tonight it’s date night at his place usually it’s your apartment but tonight he was convinced by you to have it at his place.

You were suddenly feeling slightly happy to see your boyfriend of few months. It might be only four months but you’ve been enjoying your time with him and these days after work he was the only good thing coming out of a horrible day with Jungwoo.

You manage to drive to his place and you park it outside the lot getting out. You held your hands in the pockets until reaching the doorstep you lift the door matt and underneath was the spare key he would always tell you to pick up. But as you did you unlock the door and entering in to see a young woman and man giggling in a dark setting living room with candles lit up and rose petals on the flooring.

You crush your eyes at the ideas running to your head and you refused to believe it was for you the moment your hands push the living room door to see a man and young woman that wasn’t you snuggling to his chest.

You tilt your head entering. Your so called boyfriend saw you and he jumped up still in his boxers and half naked. He was shirtless and embarrassed on his face.

“Y/n! You… left work early.” He trails confused and how to fix this deal and situation. In other words he’s trying to lie to you and you could see it on his face. You were so dumb wondering why he would be so refusing to let you stay over at his place.

The woman looks back at the man and you. “Honey who’s this woman?” She looks back at you pointing your voice at him. “What are you doing here with my husband?”

You widen your eyes at him. ‘Oh I was the side chick.’ You let out wondering what the heck happened now. Zero from a hundred your pain felt worse now that you possible home wrecked a relationship you didn’t want. A marriage you had no idea about. God you feel so awful about yourself and feeling so bad that you believed this man wasn’t married.

“Your husband was cheating on you with me. I had no idea he was married.” You blankly trail looking around opening your phone screen with his contact name and his number. The woman was equally shocked and turns around to the man and you again.

“You mean you knew he was married?” She spat and you look at her widen eyes. “No I didn’t know he was married. I wouldn’t of dated him if he was.”

She scoffs. “Sure, every side chick uses that excuse.”

You clench your eyebrows together scowling. If she refused to believe you that’s up to her but you couldn’t help but feel defensive. You don’t want to be painted as someone who was fucking behind the scene with a married man, that’s the worst trait anyone could have on their profile. You’d hate that.

“Your husband is the problem here.”

He comes up to you pushing you out of the house. “No! You manipulated me! I don’t even know you. God Honey these woman keep on coming trying to separate us.” He urges you and you shout pushing him. “Don’t touch me you cheater.” You croak out walking yourself out of the house.

You spit on his door in disgust and shame. “Have some respect for women asshole none of them would want a man balding in his thirties.” You tell him walking away.

The man angrily runs to you grabbing your hair and slapping you but you held your ground and through watery tears look up. Your high heels step on his bare foot on the ground and he grabs falling backwards and holding them tight.

“Don’t touch me again.” You say feeling disgusted.

You couldn’t believe you were easily fooled by a married man and you found yourself feeling stupid. More stupid than before. God you were so wrong about many things and you’re always wrong you feel; at this point you feel like you’re never doing anything right. If your work department isn’t going well and your love life department isn’t either your whole life was going to collapse. Maybe it’s already collapsed but you’re now crumbling since it’s your turn.

You drive back to your apartment very late. You drove back to Seoul and you couldn’t help but break down the moment you enter your apartment closing the door. You take off your jacket throwing it loosely on the couch. Your heels slowly come off but you felt loose on motivation to do anything and all your heart could take was breathing, but even that felt like a chore to do. You had no one to turn to.

You sat on the couch drinking soju you kept on your fridge for special occasions — now they’re just used for sad occasions you have today.

You had your mother but you don’t want to burden her any longer than she could deal with. After all your mother has to be the least person to see you struggling you can’t let her know the truth behind your happy work and happy life façade. You can’t do that. You break down when you open your phone unable to take it anymore.

You didn’t want to be here standing anywhere. You wish you were somewhere else. Perhaps someone else. You wish you were Jungwoo who looks like he has it all in life. He has everything he could ever want you wish you were your damn rival; the one who hates you.

No he doesn’t hate you. He is the one who despises you; because if you were him you’d probably hate yourself too. You would also hate you if you were someone else and that’s what makes you completely unworthy of having that job. Jungwoo said it and you’re starting to believe him.

Your phone opens the contact of Kim Jungwoo. You felt so stupid but you wanted someone to tell at you and be there for you. However Jungwoo was the least person to provide you of that you called him anyways.

The moment he picks up the soft lingering voice was there asking who it was calling him. “Hello Kim Jungwoo speaking?” But the minute your voice heard his sweet voice you were on your way down sobbing midway.

“Jungwoo… how are you so fucking perfect all the time.” You trail as you take a large sip from the soju. Jungwoo’s eyes widen hearing you sound so different from the way you left the office.

Many things rang in his head. He thought at first what are you on about, but then he heard you crying and he stopped working. The way his brain shuts down all his purposes when hearing you cry on the other line of the phone and he was worried for once, he really was. You’re not the type to cry. You’re not the type to call him unless you really had to do he knew it was serious when he heard it’s you.

He trails in a broken sentence. He wasn’t sure what to say to you honestly but he was worried. “Are… Y/n what are you saying. What happened to you?”

“I’m agreeing with what you’re probably thinking.” You say putting the soju down. Slamming it on the table rather. “I’m useless. I’m so stupid for believing him. I cant even keep a relationship, nonetheless a freaking job.”

He looks around his bedroom late at night before you called he was working on the song Dive he was going to call it. He couldn’t help but think perhaps you were drinking and maybe you called the wrong number but no, the next minute you kept chanting his name in all sorts of cute noises. He couldn’t believe he was this much on your mind it made him think perhaps you were admiring him but at the same time hating him that you look up to your rival this much.

“Jungwoo… Jung…. Woo… why must you be so mean to me… what did i ever do to you? If i did something… tell me Kim… Jung… woo…”

You were getting more tipsy than you first thought you were getting and planning. Jungwoo smiles uncontrollably behind the phone hearing you speak and say his name. In reality he never once hated you, in fact he never once disliked you.

He found you someone that he was envious of but he never once said he hated or disliked you. He just disliked the way you were talented and he couldn’t bring himself to say it to you because of his horribleness behind the pride he has. Nonetheless he was looking up to you. You looked like you had your life together something which he has not. You were beautiful too, probably the most beautiful woman he’s ever encountered and he can’t lie anymore.

You were drunk and he could feel himself being the real him to you. The nicer version, the one that actually fell for you at first glance but he was scared so he put on a terrifying persona to keep you away.

The ironical distinction was that Jungwoo happens to have a muse which was you. You were the muse to all these sudden romance song writing he was doing in the spare time and they were all about you. In fact this song Dive was about you.

It’s why he was so persistent about keeping it and letting him do it because he wanted this song to be about you. He wanted this song to come and go from his imagination the way he imagined you. You’re someone he would dive in and take a taste of. All these imaginary scenarios he has of you, he can imagine you drip dropping if he was there with you. You’re someone he loves from the sideline.

Where you least expect it.

He slants back answering you cutely. “You didn’t do anything Y/n. I don’t hate you.”

You crawl off the couch getting up and slowly walking to the bedroom flopping on your bed. Your clothes shift off your body and you slightly moan out drunkly.

Jungwoo felt himself go red hearing you and he sat up. You let out a long straining huff out feeling your face become warm thanks to the alcohol flushing your cheeks bright red.

“why are you… so mean to me then…” you lay there on your bed undressing with Jungwoo on the other line hearing you change your clothes.

He gulps but turns away trying not to imagine all sorts of things this late. He didn’t want to perv on you. It was clear you weren’t well and you cried to him for comfort. He should at least do that to you.

“I’m jealous of you Y/n. It’s what jealous people do. They hate on you because you’re better than them.” He whispers and you lay there crawling under the covers, sniffing with your wet nose because of how much you bawled your eyes out.

“Why were you crying Y/n?” Jungwoo would ask you this time you felt yourself twist around murmuring in broken tones.

“I just found out my ex boyfriend was married… and I felt like an awful person not knowing he was.” You lay there staring at your ceiling with the phone close to your ears. You could hear Jungwoo’s soft tone become slightly more intense but he still kept this comforting warm hug around you almost even though he was not there physically in your apartment.His words felt like a warm diving hug from the virtual screen.

“You deserve better Y/n.” He lingers laying back. ‘You deserve to be with me at least…. I’m better than that asshole who broke your heart.’ It’s what he wanted to say but he couldn’t.

You close your eyes. “I don’t know… I feel frustrated. I was hoping our date night would end up well… I even dressed up nicely for him today…” you couldn’t feel anymore stupid realising the things you’ve done prepping that perhaps after the date you could sleep with him but no. He was married.

“You did look pretty today.” ‘You always do.’ Jungwoo thought clearing his tongue tight so he couldn’t let you hear his obvious thoughts.

You felt your cheeks go warm because of a rare compliment from your rival, Jungwoo, on the other line of the phone. You felt maybe it’s the alcohol playing you but you could feel that maybe it was not.

“You thought I was… pretty today?” You repeated.

There was a lingering pause from Jungwoo but he was soon getting the courage to agree with you. It was a cute and wholesome thing he said for a long time, maybe the first time, you can’t remember a time where Jungwoo was nice to you at work or outside of work.

“Mhm i did say that.” Jungwoo told quietly.

You couldn’t believe it but something made your heart race unexpectedly fast you thought you were getting sick inside but all you were was Jungwoo’s puppet falling for his romantic tactics. His sweet words possessed you like a doll and took away your mind from that lingering breaking up sadness. Somehow you aren’t drunk on alcohol you’re not drunk on Jungwoo’s praises.

You gulp stuttering out shyly. “How about we call on my laptop and do some… more work… i wanna see your work that you’ve done.”

Jungwoo looks at his laptop on the side next to where he sat opening his song he written and he hums looking at the time. He could spare a few hours with you if it meant he could listen to you blabbering more and more.

“Okay call me then, I can spare a bit more time for you.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

As much as it pains you not being able to do much song writing you felt a sort of relative knowledge about how good Jungwoo was at making lyrics seem so real and romantic. Unlike you your lyrics have a different vibe and feeling to it making the lyrics mean something else that wasn’t romance. He went for a romance that was hidden from someone.

The lyrics were beautifully well written it felt like a secret admirer who wouldn’t want to be discovered. You wonder if he wrote this from a perspective of someone or if he wrote it from a perspective such as his own and if there was a person that makes him feel these feelings that the lyrics portray.

You hate to admit but you loved the song. You were glad you didn’t do anything to it. When Jungwoo saw your face becoming satisfied reading the lyrics analysing each one from the other you were exposed and Jungwoo wanted to let you know how he feels through his songs to you.

You hum. “I love the song. The lyrics are meaningful and melancholy almost. I never understood how you get the inspiration from. I could never write things like this.” You tell him looking at the camera through your laptop. Your cameras were on and you were sitting at the same position in your bed both in your pyjamas which made this somehow more comfortable and less formal.

You were speaking casually together and nothing rude came out of your mouths. You were just relaxing and discussing work, as if you were friends. Not rivals.

You discuss more songs you got end up having on the album because the company arranged a young boy group debuting from SM to be the group with that title track Dive song. However you suggested adding more and Jungwoo suggested afterwards that you should write something for another song they could perform to.

You were happy to be able to write a song finally to your liking and Jungwoo let’s you surprised you knowing he was very against you becoming a writer. But he was fine as long as you leave Dive as it is.

You work in silence for a while until it became very late. You both were on the verge of nearly sleeping midway working and suddenly you saw Jungwoo has fallen asleep on his bed softly facing the camera away and you couldn’t help but smile watching the soft boy sleep away. He must’ve been tired, you called him up to do more, he was probably meant to be sleeping a while ago but he stayed up for you.

Nonetheless you continue working until you found yourself getting sleepy again. You need to wake yourself up somehow but you couldn’t think of anything. Slapping your face together with your palms wasn’t doing the job.

And the suddenly a thought crossed your mind and your eyes widen at the idea that could easily go wrong if you aren’t careful. You hesitate moving your laptop up front and moving the camera away so you you were out of the view a little. You pull yourself apart and slowly start to touch yourself in ways you couldn’t imagine if you were on a call with someone from your work or anyone actually, but something in you was emerging you were somehow liking the idea of it.

Your fingers pleasure you a little and all you were letting out was swallowed breathes that became heavy or soft depending how far and soft you went with your fingers down at your aching pussy. You couldn’t believe you were doing this but the shame dies down and you engulf yourself with a little self pleasuring energy,

Until a voice broke you off.

“Y/n are you moaning?” The voice was rasped. Jungwoo couldn’t believe his ears but he woke up to heavenly sounds of you and his urges made him now unable to sleep.

He was rock hard from only hearing you and your shake came back twicefold because now you wanted to bury yourself alive and panic. However what Jungwoo said next made you solely believe that he was twice as loose screw as you were, he wanted you. He wanted to see you and he wanted to help you out with equal amounts of parts.

He darkly demands staring into the camera. “Move your camera down so i can see you, Y/n.”

You gulp and slowly found your body doing as he said moving the camera down revealing your lower pyjamas taken off as well as your panties letting you expose your beautiful body in sight resting on your bed there and your fingers apart from the view. He could drown on your beautiful body and face he could drown at your scent at work so without a doubt he would want to Dive in you.

He leans his head back suddenly stroking himself in the camera. One look of you being naked in the camera has made him feel so many sensations it’s been edging him everyday at work seeing you and now his dream is happening. Was this a dream? It certainly felt real but everything that has happened in his dreams is now happening right in his eyes.

You ache out. “Jungwoo…”

He looks down at you humming. “Yes? Do you want me to lead you on?”

You couldn’t help but nod at him. You knew what you were doing when he wasn’t looking and now you’re overwhelmed by his stare you forgot how to move. He smiles slightly seeing you look so confused and he motions to your hand through the screen.

“Grab one finger and push it inside you slowly. In and out.”

You do as you were told putting in one finger letting your single digit going in you very slowly becoming tight and tighter when you go pull it out and in. It left you letting out a small wet dripping sound through the video call Jungwoo couldn’t help but get drunk on it to hear you dripping and dropping endlessly.

None stop too, he stroke his cock watching you at the same speed as your fingers, very slow and gracefully. As if you were made of porcelain fragile glass you were treated like you’re easy to break. Jungwoo knew one touch from him would have you melting and he knew damn well you would have him go on his knees for you.

Heck, he was losing his mind to you all this time and you haven’t even realised it.

He’s obsessed with you. He needs to breathe you.

“How does it feel y/n?” He asked you deeply wanting to hear your voice, your moans weren’t enough. He needs to hear you talk until you can’t anymore.

You voice out when Jungwoo lets you add another digit to the single one. The two fingers stretch your whole out and Jungwoo was addicted seeing you so stretched he could just imagine how tight you feel round his entire shaft he was in need to have you right here physically. It was unbearable.

“It feels good…” you couldn’t help but think that his fingers would be so much better you wanted him to have you stretch out like you were made up of nothing but soft clouds and cotton candy. You wanted to wet his fingers and you wanted his mouth the most to be on yours.

Jungwoo was practically delusional on you straight up watching you pleasure yourself and become a moaning mess was not enough for him he had to meet and touch you. Speak to you and tell you all his feelings he’s been hiding from you all along. That he doesn’t hate you he was just envious and all along those romance songs were about you. He was coping with writing about you, and you weren’t aware.

“I wish it was my fingers deep inside your cunt, hitting your g spot so quickly…” oh how badly it was hurting him and you to imagine these things it really messes your perceived image of Jungwoo from before. Maybe it wasn’t so bad after all, but he certainly has your body having a mind of its own. You fit your hips forward chanting.

“Jungwoo… Jungwoo please tell me to go faster… tell me what to do… what should i do for you?”

‘God you lost your sweet innocent mind.’ Jungwoo pleads for mercy because he hung forward watching you lose your own self and you were chanting all sorts of things for him to take. He grips his swollen rip pushing his thumb on it and gripping it tight the entire long length and he pauses watching you.

He won’t come without you. You have to at least come two times before he can come with you again he wants you to be the one pleasured and fucked out on the camera.

“Go fast and don’t stop. But you can’t come without my permission.”

He was mercifully taken off you and you couldn’t tell if you were punished or if you were pleasured, perhaps it was both. You wanted fast but you wanted to come more and now you won’t be able to last much, yet he’s asking you to not release without his own permission of your body. You strain yourself mentally ignoring the burning warning sign of your abdomen wanting the orgasm to happen.

Your fingers were fast on your clit watching the swollen redness become more and more apparent to your fingers rubbing it quicker. He enjoys watching you get yourself off, he enjoys hearing his name come out of your mouth, he enjoys watching your face squeezing tight when you were close but you couldn’t release yet; the way your messy hair was flowing on your shoulders but away your face. It’s your fingers digging in and out of you, but also overstimulating you. You knew what you were doing, but you wanted someone to lead you. It aroused him.

Your simple actions arouse him beyond anyone’s comprehension of this world. He was down bad for you and you were the thing he hates the most because of how much he wants you. How much he needs you makes him despise you and it’s a conflict war between the mind and the heart.

You hoarsely missed out on your voice nearly. “P-please can i? Can I come… please… Jungwoo… may i?” It was a pleading battle between you and your pride wanting to stay still and do as you were told but to see you begging was something Jungwoo never knew he needed to hear.

His cock twitched with every stroke he did to himself but your voice made him twitch out of control hearing you speak so lowly and quietly, in a hushed moan fucked out voice.

He darkly gazed at you. Without realising it he was diving in your mind like a floating ocean made him swim around with a forward stroke, each paint of his voice took over your mind making a hole in your brain, mind, heart and spirit. You felt yourself loose a part of yourself in the best way possible because he was tugging on your strings. He awoken something inside you just as much as you’ve awoken him.

Something ready to drip out, Jungwoo was measly diving in enjoying your worn out body sweating with beads upon beads of water your body producing a little smoke just like how hot you looked. You were feverishly staring at him, obediently waiting for an answer like the good girl you were. Jungwoo roughly looked at you and you enjoyed seeing his gaze that he was staring at you with.

You were spreading towards him wider enough to make his dull dry heart feel your midnight rain soaking it up. He was changing to you. He was falling for you, deeper and deeper. You didn’t know until you were seeing the way his eye crease half lidded with emotion behind those black eyes.

You’re the sweet rain coming to him like a wave he couldn’t control or tame down so he simple lets it overtake him, harder and harder watching you please yourself on his voice you could go hours on.

Precum drenching his cock thanks to your voice filling his brain to a brim of you and only you. It was a comfortable silence between you that you couldn’t put a finger on. You were in a longing quiet place between where no talk was happening but your breathes were like one. You breathe out heavily and so does he, your hands move in one motion and so did your beating hearts in your thumping chest.

Without hesitation he would dive into you. You knew that the moment you met eyes with him through the screen.

“What I’ve always dreamed about, diving into you.” He lets out sultry voice groaning out more and more than you could handle to hear.

His voice sections lingering. “Deeply, deeply into you.”

Your brain caught on a few seconds later he was saying his lyrics of the song Dive he wrote and you couldn’t help but smile out with your feverish face and your steady eyes hitching your stomach into your body. He growls out a few words such as ‘You can come, come with me’ and you felt rewarded like it was the most prized thing you’ve wanted all year and finally Christmas came and you finally got it. It felt exactly like that, a wonderful release you needed and begged for since a lifetime.

And then you release together. Jungwoo had the pleasuring experience of watching you get off like a freaking water park. You had the most thrilling orgasm out of you two his was quick and clean while yours was a dripping mess he always imagined it to be. Just like he wanted it to. It was perfect, you were perfect. The water coming out of you was nearly touching his screen but you put the laptop further to make sure it didn’t get hit. You gave him a show and he was happy, like a massive weight has been lifted off his shoulders now that you knew he didn’t hate you.

He liked you. He was hiding it was all behind that mean persona he always sought out to end you.

And just like storm ends after the the sea the calming ocean goes to sleep and goes into sleep land but none of you wanted to go yet. You both were watching your faces through the video call after you both cleaned up and no endless stream can compete to you and Jungwoo’s rain you both shed. It comforts your hearts to me in this mutual silence that you were both happy hearing. Your eyes spoke enough words for today and you only wanted Jungwoo by your side now.

You never once thought you’d want Jungwoo to sleep next to your bed, and wish he wasn’t in a computer. It makes you laugh thinking that aloud because you always thought you would never see eye to eye. You guys sorta do now.

Jungwoo pulls your head away and makes you look up to listen to him and wondering what he has to say to you, winds your heart like a marionette in a box.

“Together with you, I’m dreaming of this moment when i can dive into you again.”

You cheese at how sweet he could be asking in other terms, when can you both hook up for real. Jungwoo had a way with romanticising things and you found it fascinating. Kind of cute too.

“Anytime you want, you can Dive.”

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@onyourhyuck please refer from translating and copyrighting my work thank youu!! Please reblog and follow me for more updates it helps a girl out <3.

[h-harleybaby]

cartman on ft (facetime) w/ his partner? like how would he act or what kinda stuff he would screenshare with them on call

Eric Cartman on ft with his partner + what he would screenshare hcs

Omg

Screen share is giving me flashbacks to the stupid shit me and my ex bf would look at on his Reddit 💀

You’re so smart tho- that’s a good idea <333

• Let’s be honest, doing ANYTHING with Eric is an experience. So ofc this is too

• He always demands to be on ft with you when y’all aren’t together. He wants to see your face all the time <3333

• AND HE ALWAYS LOOKS SO UGLY ON FT BECAUSE HE ALWAYS PUTS HIS PHONE AT THE MOST OFF PUTTING ANGLES BECAUSE HE THINKS ITS HILARIOUS

• That ^^ but sometimes he doesn’t look disgusting on ft and looks really handsome

• There’s no in between, it’s ugly af or hot

• He’s always taking screenshots of you, he refuses to delete them too. All of them range from you doing the mundane, to ugly pictures of you when your camera freezes, to absolutely gorgeous ones

• Eric insists that every picture he has of you is beautiful… in private- otherwise he shows everyone and is like “doesn’t she look so stupid??? I love her <3”

• Best way to get his attention on ft (or literally anywhere) is stop paying attention to him and start reading. Something about you reading some stupid book instead of paying attention to him and talking to him pisses him off to no end 💀

• This man does N O T stop talking and he’ll have complete conversations with his friends while on ft with you

• Then involves you in the convos- like “Y/n are you hearing this shit???” and “Y/n, babe what do you think?”

• Has fallen asleep on ft with you before and enjoys it sm when y’all ain’t near each other

• I headcanon that y’all are neighbors so whenever one of y’all is visiting relatives or not in South Park he spams you till you ft with him

• Definitely complains to you about his relatives or his mom during vacations at the end of the day

• If you’re somewhere with a different time zone and you call him at the middle of the night forgetting, he’ll wake up immediately and pretend like he couldn’t sleep and that was the only reason he answered

• The ringtone for his alarm and your ringtone are the same so he kinda trained himself to wake up whenever you call

• Probably uses your favorite song or some love song that reminds him of you for his alarm and your ringtone

• ANYWAYS-

• The things Eric screenshares scare anyone who isn’t good friends with him or dating him

• I don’t give a shit what you say, he’s a very active Reddit user while you’re a super active tumblr user

• So ofc he’ll screenshare Reddit and stuff

• Maybe YouTube too

• You probably don’t enjoy any of shit he puts on from YouTube but you just suck it up because he does the same for you, ya know??

• He scrolls through Reddit and makes fun of a bunch of shit y’all see

• Has looked at nsfw on Reddit with you if you’re ok with it and he doesn’t wanna say he’s horny so he just hopes you get the message. Literally just laughs awkwardly and is like “isn’t that so stupid? … we should do that” or “that’s so dumb to cosplay sexy [something] but wouldn’t it be like- really funny if you did for me 👉👈”

• Eric makes fun of the stupid mfs he sees on Reddit with you

• Probably trolls people on Reddit and asks for your advice on what to say to them if he starts to run out of ideas

• Occasionally he goes on tumblr for you

• He’s scared by what he witnesses

• Very scared

• The fanfic scares him but he secretly enjoys it

• “Y/n what the fuck is this hell site??!” “It’s not a hell site >:(“

• Eric’s really confused by tumblr but he loves that he has a gf who’s on tumblr because he enjoys the screenshots you send him of stuff you find there

Do y’all like it???

[skyewritesstuff]

cruel summer (kenny's version)

my masterlist.

entry 4 in my (taylor’s version) songfic series.

summary: a detailed account of your summer fling with kenny mccormick.

pairing: kenny mccormick x reader (college!au kinda)

fandom: south park

warnings:  implied nsfw. substance use (alc/weed/nic). language. vomiting.

notes: based on cruel summer by taylor swift. this was not beta read. we die like kenny.

word count: 7.9k

It all started and ended in Kenny McCormick’s rundown, single cab pickup truck. It was summer time and Kenny’s main friend group had all separated for this one lone week despite everyone being home from college. Stan was still on the outskirts of town at Tegridy Farms. Eric had been dragged out of state to visit family. Kyle was in Denver doing a week-long intensive course. 

Kenny was in community college, about to wrap up an associates in computer sciences, a few classes short of graduation. He was also working full-time at the local Best Buy doing tech support, but somehow he’d managed to have three days off in a row towards the end of the week. However, this had to be the worst time for him to have next-to-nothing to do.

You were in Marjorine’s bathroom, standing over her as she sat on the toilet, pink dye that was scented like lemon drop candy was coating the ends of her naturally blonde hair when your phone rang.

“Marj, can you see who that is and let me decide whether or not I”m gonna get you to answer that?”

The blonde girl laughed, “Sure thing!”

She grabbed your phone and looked at the screen, “It’s Kenny!”

“Kenny McCormick?” 

You said that like there was any other Kenny in your hometown. There was no confusion in your question, though, just a slight bit of disbelief. You’d had feelings for Kenny since high school that’d been a long-kept secret for various reasons. First, you thought Marjorine liked him, but apparently not. In reality, Marjorine is just a helpless romantic who has a slight attraction to all of her friends, you included. Then, he ended up in a weird situationship with Tammy Mullins and then “cheated” on Tammy Mullins with his ex, Tammy Warner, if you can even cheat on a fuckbuddy. 

Kenny didn’t have the most savory reputation in South Park when it came to women. He was a flirt who made it known to everyone how much he liked the ladies and with his charm and rugged looks, he oftentimes was able to pull any girl that he fed the right line to. You felt like it was pointless to pursue him, because you’d inevitably get your heartbroken and look like an idiot much like Tammy Mullins when she attempted to beat the ever living shit out of Tammy Warner for the aforementioned incident. 

“Aren’t you going to answer it?” Marjorine spoke in a sing-song voice that let you know that she was highly anticipating overhearing this conversation.

You rolled your eyes, “Go ahead.”

Marjorine swiped the answer bar, “Well hi, Ken!”

“Hi, Barbie!” Kenny didn’t miss a beat, a chuckle to his voice, “Where���s Y/N?”

“I’m right here. What’s up, Kenny?” You spoke, distracting your nerves by finishing up Marjorine’s hair and making sure that the color was evenly spread with meticulous attention to detail.

“Just wanted to see if you ladies wanted to chill at Stark’s Pond later. The guys are all out of town doing fuck knows what and I have like...three days off of work and I’ve already bored myself to death.”

“You mean to tell me you’ve already gotten bored with jacking off and hitting up girls on Snap? Are you feeling okay, bud?” You said with a smirk, eliciting a gasp at your language from the blonde sitting underneath you.

“Ha ha…hilarious. I haven’t jacked it at all today. I’m waiting to see you in a bikini at the pond so I can have that mental image to cross that off my list.”

“Cute.”

“Gross, Ken!”

He chuckled again, “Are you guys coming or what?”

You looked at Marjorine and she looked at you. Before you could contemplate a response, she replied for you, “We’ll be there! Does 3:00 work?”

You shot her a look and she grinned mischievously. “Yeah, for sure. You make sure to look cute too, Marj. I’ve got a lot of free time coming up.” You could hear his smirk through the phone, earning him another eye roll.

“Oh shut it, Kenny. We’ll see you later.” 

“Okay! Love you guys, bye!”

“Love you too!” Marjorine replied, hanging up the phone and looking over her shoulder at you with a smile.

“I hate you.”

“Nuh uh.”

“I’m going to drown you when I rinse you.”

“Oh, hamburgers.”

A few hours later, you were in your room putting on high waisted black bikini bottoms with a black and white striped top as you were trying to call Marjorine to determine whether or not the suit was too modest or just right. You’d called several times, but she still wasn’t answering. You turned your attention to your hair, putting it in two braids, when you finally heard your ringtone.

“Hey, are you okay? I tried calling like a hundred times.” You spoke over speaker phone, starting on your other braid.

“Yeah, I suppose I’m alright…well, a little anyway.” She sounded sad. You’d be willing to bet the $500 sitting in your savings account that you knew where this conversation was going. 

“What happened?” 

“Well, you see, my dad was real sore about my hair. He said it made me look cheap and…”

“You’re grounded…”

“Yeah…”

You sighed, “Marj, we’re twenty. Your dad can’t ground you forever.” 

She sighed back, “I know…I keep hoping that maybe he’ll stop the older I get, but really, I’m getting older everyday and he’s not stopping!”

You groaned, flopping back on your bed, “So, I’m just going to go hang out with Kenny alone…”

“You say that like you haven’t wanted to date him since we were in high school.” Marjorine said, a smile clearly perking up on her face. You could tell by her tone.

“Yeah, but like..” You tried to start replying back.

“But nothing! Go and have a good time!” she said, “And use protection!”

“Marjorine!” You gasped, shaking your head at her response.

“I’m just saying.” She replied. Suddenly, there was a loud knock on the door.

“Marjorine, are you on your phone?!” Her father’s voice boomed.

“No, dad…I’m just…uh…talking to myself!” She replied back nervously. You could hear her father barking out orders at her to stay quiet and to think about what she’d done. Quickly, she wished you luck and ended the call.

You looked at your phone, noticing it was almost time for you to leave and decided that you would start gathering your things so that you could go. Once you arrived, you immediately noticed Kenny’s truck. It was an older model with rusted parts, chipped paint, and numerous crude and comedic stickers littering both the back glass and the door to the bed.

Part of you wanted him to not show up. Sure, you’d been harboring a crush on Kenny, but to think you’d be able to pull him? There was no way. He liked girls with big boobs, curves, full lips, and gorgeous skin. Compared to those girls, you just felt normal, like there was nothing special about you. You’d been told you were beautiful, funny, and smart, but going after Kenny still felt futile.

You parked next to his truck and then got out, walking towards the pond with your bag in hand. You soon noticed the blonde boy laying on a tattered quilt blanket. He was wearing only orange swim trunks and a pair of aviator sunglasses. His head turned toward you and he did a double take, tossing his hand up to greet you.

You walked over and sat your bag down next to the blanket. Kenny let out a soft wolf-whistle. “Baby, baby, baby…” He said, “I thought the view of the pond was beautiful, but you’ve got it beat.”

You rolled your eyes, sitting down on the blanket. “You’re full of it, Ken.” you said. He chuckled, shaking his head, “I’m just observing.”

“Uh huh…”

“Where’s Marj?” 

“Grounded”

“Shit…I mean, that sucks, but hey…” He turned on his side to look at you, “At least we get some time just you and me, right?”

Your chest tightened and you took a deep breath, “Mhmmm…”

“So…you seeing anyone?”

You rolled your eyes again. He was always so flirty with everyone. This was his baseline. You had to keep this at the front of your mind and just roll with his advances and play along with the game he was initiating. 

You shook your head, taking out your sunscreen. You twisted the nozzle so that it would spray and went over your arms, chest, and legs. Kenny held his hand out and you handed the bottle to him, expecting him to apply a coat to his already tanned skin. Instead, he sat up and slid behind you and sprayed your back.

“What are you…?” You lost your train of thought as he reached up and started gently rubbing it into your back.

Your breath hitched in your throat, “U-Uh…it’s…it’s touch free…”

“Oh?” He said. You could hear the smirk in his voice, “I didn’t read the bottle.” He leaned in closer to you until his breath was on your ear, “My bad…”

A shiver ran down your spine and he laughed under his breath again, moving back to the blanket. “So, why’d Clyde say he’d been talking to you if you’re single, then?”

“Because he’s full of shit.” 

It was a plain reply to the question because that was the honest truth. Clyde tended to be a bit of an attention seeker and this kind of behavior was a norm with him almost as much as being flirtatious was to Kenny. 

“Interesting…” Kenny laughed, “I think you should take that up with him.”

“It’s not that serious.” You laughed, laying back on the blanket, turning your head to look at him.

“I think you should tell him that you’re not talking to him because you’re talking to me.”

“Lie to end a lie?”

“Doesn’t have to be a lie.”

“You’re something else, you know that, right?”

The small talk and banter between the two of you went on for what felt like minutes, but upon looking at the clock on your lockscreen, you found out it’d been hours. The sun was starting to set and the two of you were the last people remaining at the pond.

“We should go get food.” You suggested, gesturing towards him with his sunglasses that you were holding, having taken them from him hours ago upon realizing that yours had been left in Marjorine’s car days ago.

“Or we could skinny dip and then get food.” He retorted, shrugging as if he didn’t ask you to get naked in public with him.

“You’re insane.”

“Some people would find that hot, you know?”

“Pretty sure skinny dipping is illegal.”

“No guts, no glory…plus, our police force is a joke. I think we’ll be fine.”

“You think.”

Kenny got up from the blanket and started down to the water. He turned towards you and smirked. “I know…” He then jumped into the water, making a large splash that landed on the blanket and your legs.

He re-emerged only seconds later and held his swim trunks over his head. “Kenny!” You gasped.

“Yes?” His smile was absolutely devious. You got up and walked to the edge of the water only for him to pull his hand back and send his swim trunks launching towards you, only landing on your feet due to the weight of the water in the fabric.

You couldn’t think of anything else to say so you just crossed your arms over your chest and watched the blonde who was currently smiling so widely you could finally see the small gap in his smile from his missing tooth. You had to admit…the colors and lighting of the sunset mixed with the beads of water rolling down his shoulders and his wet hair…If Kenny was anything, it was beautiful.

“Take a picture sweetheart, it’ll last longer.” You’d gotten caught. You took a hard swallow, choosing not to respond to his comment. “Man, this water is getting cold…it’d be nice if someone else would join me so I could suck up their body heat.”

He couldn’t be that desperate. You sighed, “Okay…okay…”

You jumped in, resurfacing right in front of him moments later. He grinned playfully. “Lucky me.” He closed the gap between you two, wrapping his arms around your waist and bringing your body in close to him.

“You are ridiculous.” You tried to sound stern, but you couldn’t help but form a smile at his reaction to your presence. He seemed genuinely happy to have you in the water with him with your bodies so close together…but of course he does. It’s Kenny. Something like this is his idea of paradise. You were brought back to your thoughts earlier about Kenny’s baseline and his affinity for the ladies.

“You still with me?” he asked, noticing how your thoughts had drifted from your current position to the depths of your mind. You turned your attention back to him, “Yeah, I was just…thinking…”

“Bout what?” he asked, reaching up to play with the end of your hair delicately, 

“You”

“Me? Huh, it really is my lucky day, isn’t it?”

“Who says it’s good?”

“Well, damn, the thought didn’t cross my mind, but I guess you’re right.” He chuckled.

He leaned in, his lips curved up in a smirk as he leaned in in an attempt to kiss you. You reached up with two fingers and pressed them to his lips to stop him. He pulled back and laughed, shaking his head.

“You’re naked in a pond with me right now…I don’t think that should be our first kiss.”

“So, you’re telling me that if I put my clothes back on, you’d kiss me?” 

“We’ll see…”

“I never thought I’d want to get my clothes back on with you instead of staying naked.” he said.

A few minutes later, Kenny was redressed and you’d dried off and put the t-shirt he’d come to the pond in over your suit. It was now fully dark, the only light coming from his headlights after he’d turned the car on. 

“So…where do you wanna go for food?” he asked, leaning against the car. You shrugged and stood beside him, leaning your back against the vehicle as well. “I”m up for anything, really. I’m not picky. Anything beats frozen waffles for the fourth time this week.”

“McDonald’s?” You questioned, earning a nod in response from the blonde.

“Before we go, though…you said that if we weren’t naked and in the pond you’d kiss me.”

You let out a deep breath from your nose and looked at him, not responding, but raising both eyebrows questioning him ever so slightly.

“So…can we?” He grinned.

“Why do you want to kiss me anyway? You can have your pick of any girl in South Park…or have you just blown through all of your options over the years and I’m the last girl on the list?” You questioned, “It’s not like you’ve actively tried pursuing me before. Why now?”

Kenny looked taken aback by your question, “I…” He paused, as if trying to gather his thoughts. You must’ve honestly thrown him a curveball he was never expecting. “I don’t know…guess I thought you’d never go for me. You’re kind of too good for me. At least, that’s what Marj says.”

“Marj? What’d she say?”

“Oh, I told her I wanted to ask you out like…Christmastime-ish…and she was like ‘Nah, she’s too smart and too good for you. She won’t put up with your shit.’ and one night, after smoking a blunt, I thought some more about it and realized that she’s probably right and that you’re not going to put up with my shit and that even though you’re totally one of the most gorgeous girls I’ve ever seen I…”

You cut him off by leaning in to kiss his lips. He smiled against your lips and instantly kissed back, moving over you to lean you even further back against the hood of his truck, resting both arms on each side of your head until one hand slid down and came to rest on your hip, hooking his finger into your belt loop to pull you in closer. You kept kissing him, letting your hands slide down his bare chest, a shiver running down your spine at the small moan that left his lips as your hands moved. Finally, you had to pull back to catch your breath.

You took a second, just looking at him, your E/C eyes staring into his baby blues. Then, you spoke up, “I'm still not putting up with your shit, though.” You both laughed in response and he shrugged his shoulders.

“Makes sense.” He said, leaning in to kiss you again. The kiss once again turned heated, you locking a leg around his waist and his hands traveling past the hem of his shirt that you were wearing to caress the slightly exposed skin of your abdomen and then move to your back, reaching up to play with the tie on your bathing suit. You stopped him, putting a hand up to his arm to get his attention.

“Shit…” He shook his head, “I”m sorry, I–”

“Don’t apologize.” You began, “I just think it’d be a little more private in the truck.”

That’s how you found yourself on your back in the cramped single cab of Kenny’s truck for the first time that summer. His lips were traveling down your body and your chest was rising and falling at a rapidly increasing pace the further he maneuvered himself downward. You glanced down at him and met his eyes as he looked up at you, his fingers hooked themselves in the sides of your swimsuit bottoms. He shifted his position a little as he was still partially standing outside of the truck. 

You could barely make out his features in the dim overhead light of the truck, but you could notice how his eyes were a deeper shade of blue than earlier. His face was flushed, his shaggy mullet was even messier from the presence of your hands, and he was wearing a shit-eating grin that looked absolutely devious, but you could’ve sworn you’d never seen anything more attractive and enticing in your life.

“G-Go ahead…”

From that point forward, any nights off you both shared were spent in either his bed, the backseat of your car, or the bed of his truck. You remembered recalling the first two weeks to Marjorine after finally deciding that things were stable enough to share with at least your best friend.

You didn’t notice that she was about to take a sip of her can of soda when you casually stated “Kenny and I are like…seeing each other…well, if fucking counts as seeing each other.” Marjorine promptly started coughing, the bright green can of Mountain Dew coming back to the carpet of her floor as she tried to regain her composure. 

“Excuse me, what?”

Despite the harsh way that you would describe your encounters with the blonde, the affairs themselves were anything but. Kenny was nothing but a gentleman to you, always asking if you were alright, taking care of you afterwards, and only getting rougher with your permission. Even then, he’d talk you through it, ensuring you felt safe and comfortable no matter what. It didn’t take too long into your “relationship” for the crush you’d been harboring for years to evolve into full feelings.

Your kisses became more passionate and more frequent. Your touches became more forward and increased in frequency as well. As far as you could tell, Kenny was eating it up and taking it all in and there was no doubt in your mind that he absolutely felt the same. After consulting with Marjorine one night, you decided to finally ask Kenny the burning question.

“What are we?”

You didn’t expect the question to hang in the air the way that it did. You were sitting up in your bed, knees pulled into your chest wearing only his t-shirt and a pair of panties. Kenny was redressing himself after Cartman disrupted the nap you two had been taking by blowing up his phone, asking him to help him with some ridiculous scheme since Marjorine wasn’t answering her phone.

He turned back to you looking like a deer in the headlights. “What do you mean?” he asked as if the question wasn’t clear cut as is. You let out a mild sigh of frustration. Kenny wasn’t stupid by any means. Despite the rumors, you’d see his grades when he’d log on and check them and he was able to hack into just about any video game to make mods to fit any desire he may have during gameplay. 

“Are we like…together, or?”

“Like…dating?” He was buttoning up the tacky orange Hawaiian shirt he’d been wearing, completely missing a button, obviously jarred by this conversation.

“I mean, yeah.” It came out like a question when it was definitely a statement. 

He leaned against your dresser, sliding on his slip on Vans, “I mean…I don’t know.” He shrugged, “We do like…everything couples do…but I hadn’t put much thought into it.”

“You haven’t put much thought into it?” You repeated, dumbfounded at this response. He’d started saying something else, but it sounded like white noise to your ears and you quickly cut him off, “You’ve had a month and a half of spending many nights a week balls deep in me and you haven’t taken a single second to think ‘Hey, would I actually like to date this person or am I just wasting both of our time and fucking them until something better comes along?’”

Kenny really looked shocked now. Somewhere in your rant, he’d started re-buttoning his shirt, but he stopped midway when you started talking and was now looking at you with both sides of the shirt in his hand and his eyes blown wide in shock. He finally let go of the shirt to run his hands over his face.

“Y/N…”

“Kenny, you’ve got to be fucking kidding me…”

“What…like…I just…I don’t know and Marj has been asking me the same thing and like…I haven’t even told anyone, if I'm honest.”

“Kenny what the fuck!?” Your voice was getting louder, “Why am I some secret of yours? Is it so you can go around and fuck other girls like you’d been doing? I told you, I”m not putting up with your bullshit.”

“Oh my god…” He groaned, throwing his head back, “Listen, it’s not like that. I just…I don’t know. That’s it. I don’t know.”

Tears were welling up in your eyes, “Just get out, Kenny.”

“But…”

“Go.”

He shrugged and let out a sigh, “Okay…fine. See you around.”

As soon as you could hear the tell-tale aged, loud roar of his truck’s engine, you dissolved into tears. You pulled his shirt over your head and threw it at the wall, burying yourself under your covers as your tears turned into full sobs. How could you have been so stupid? Everything you’d ever heard about him was true and Marjorine was right. You deserved better than him.

Weeks had passed since your breakup, if you could even call it that, with Kenny. You hadn’t spoken to him since and made sure to avoid him at all costs. You were not about to give him the satisfaction of knowing how much he’d hurt you.

 It was now nearing the middle of August and the now-annual college send-off party at Tegridy Farms was rolling around signaling the end of summer and the parting of ways of all of your childhood friends that happened at this time of year.

“I still don’t want to go.” You said plainly, looking at your reflection in the mirror that hung from your bedroom door.

“It’s a tradition, Y/N and we always have fun! Remember last year when Mr. Marsh got on the karaoke machine and started singing Nicki Minaj and blacked out and broke the coffee table right before the best part of the song?” Marjorine stated, touching up her black eyeliner.

“Yeah, I guess you’re right. It’s a good spot to people watch. Maybe Clyde will get shitfaced again and end up screaming and crying for Bebe to take him back and then throw up in the yard, still crying.” You chuckled.

“See, that just makes me sad. He loves her so much and she just uses that boy whenever she wants something because he’s got money.” Marjorine glanced over at you, “Clyde’s got man written by a woman energy.”

You chuckled, “Marj, just because he’s kinda got a dad bod at 20, is sensitive, and is a male Swiftie doesn’t mean that he’s written by a woman. He killed his mom because he wouldn’t put the toilet seat down. That’s giving Mojo Dojo Casa House.”

“Ken was written by a woman, though!”

Not realizing she was following up your reference, you scoffed, “Oh, he most definitely is not. He’s written by some middle aged man that thinks shock value and sex jokes are still funny at their big-old-age.” 

“No, he’s not! Ken is just a himbo! He…” She paused and then realized what you’d said, “Oh…oh hamburgers…not the same Ken. I’m sorry.”

You realize what you’d said too, “My bad. I just…whew…I had a whole response to that. I’m so sorry, Marj.”

“It’s fine…and I agree. All of the broship were written by men of different ages…except Kyle…”

You stopped applying mascara to think about what she’d said and then nodded, “Sheila Brovlofski is the greatest author of our generation.”

The music was already blaring from inside when you pulled up to Tegridgy farms. Once you got out of your car, you could already smell the weed pouring outside. Typical party at Tegridgy. You reached into the pocket of your denim jacket and pulled out your vape, taking a few hits to calm your nerves. You knew, without a doubt, that you’d be running into Kenny tonight, and you weren’t sure how to handle it.

As you both approached the door, you knew you had to make up your mind sooner rather than later as to how you were going to handle this. In true fight, flight, or freeze nature, you could either avoid him at all costs, turn away and ignore him if he approaches you, or just freeze up and end up talking to him like nothing was wrong…and at this point, there was no telling as to what you’d choose.

You walked inside with your hands in your pockets, looking around to scope out the general area. There was a makeshift dance floor where multiple of your peers were either dancing or standing around, two tables of beer pong, and then the kitchen where the counters were littered with various alcohol bottles and almost artistic looking bongs.

You headed over to the counter and took a hold of the ingredients to make one of the only drinks you could confidently make for yourself: a tequila sunrise. You made yourself a double and Marjorine a single and handed it to her. “Aw, shucks, I really shouldn’t…you know how much of a light weight I am.” she said, staring into the cup, “Last time was bad…”

You chuckled, “It wasn’t that bad. You just called Eric sexy in front of a bunch of people which isn’t necessarily like…morally wrong or bad…just questionable and objectively incorrect.” You took a large sip of your drink, trying to get the alcohol to kick in as quickly as possible in case of an inevitable emergency and to drown the still lingering sorrows from that day in your bedroom.

Within the first hour of being there, you’d drank the double tequila sunrise you’d made for yourself, taken an old fashioned that Tolkien was preparing for multiple people, and had been consistently refilling your red cup with the jungle juice someone (Kenny) had prepared and put into several empty milk cartons of all things. Now, you were currently positioned at a bright green and black bong, taking a hit before passing it to one of the goth kids. Michael? Pete? Did it really matter? No, as long as it wasn’t Kenny.

You got up, fully preparing to just stride out of the kitchen and go find Marjorine but found out oh too quickly that you were too inebriated to stand up that quickly. You stumbled, vision a little blurry and your entire body feeling fuzzy.

“You okay?” The goth kid got up and leaned against his cane, extending his hand to you.

“Yeah, I’m good. I’m so good. I’m great, actually.” You blew him off, grabbing your cup and taking another sip as you stumbled off towards the living room where the couches and dance floor were. You flopped down on the couch next to a boy you were actually quite familiar with. His shaggy, dark hair was peeking out of his blue and yellow chullo and he was cutting his eyes over at you almost cautiously, as if he were afraid of you doing something.

“Hey Craig!” You slurred, leaning over onto him.

“Hey, Y/N.” His voice was as monotone as ever and he kept looking around and then over at you.

“Where’s Tweek?” You asked, reaching up to play with the side of his chullo as you put your legs into his lap. The brunette took a deep breath to gain his composure, “He got a little anxious so he’s outside smoking with Bebe. Do you need something?”

“Nuh uh…I'm so good!” You said, inching closer to him.

“Uh huh…sure you are.” His eyes stayed forward despite your close proximity to his face.

“You’re so hot, you know that right?” You said.

He fully turned to you, face burning red, riddled with shock. He was about to respond, when all of a sudden a flash of an orange hoodie dropped down on the arm of the couch next to him.

“Craig Tucker, what’s up, dude?”

“Ugh, not this guy.” Your tone shifted and your lack of filter continued.

“I know…you’re mad at me, sweetheart…but I promise, you’re going to be madder at yourself in the morning.” he laughed and then looked at Craig, “Swap with me.”

Craig muttered something. You only caught, “Good luck” as he got up and reached into his pocket, taking out a box of cigarettes as he headed towards the back porch.

“Get away from me.”

“I'm not trying anything. I’m just trying to keep you safe, because you’re kinda getting messy. I’ve been there, done that…and I just don’t want you to end up trying to fuck Cartman too.”

“I wasn’t trying to fuck, Craig! You’re such a fucking idiot!”

“Babe, relax. I was talking about Marj…New Years Eve.” He leaned his head back on the back of the couch, looking over at you. You could tell that despite his ability to hold a consistent conversation, his eyes were bloodshot. He’d most likely been smoking.

“You okay?” he asked, his tone turning more serious and soft.

“I”m fine.” You took your phone out of your pocket and attempted to unlock it, or so you thought, until Kenny reached over and snatched the phone away, pressing some buttons before sliding it in his pocket.

“Hey, give that back!”

“Babygirl, you were about to summon the pigs. Randy would’ve shit his pants.” he chuckled, “Pretty sure that’s a dead giveaway that you’re not okay.”

“This is a weed farm, not like an actual farm. There’s no pigs.”

Kenny laughed rather loudly, “You are absolutely right, baby. That it is. Thanks to me.”

“Stop calling me that.” You said, crossing your arms over your chest, “And give me my fucking phone back!”

He shook his head, “Can’t do that…either of those things, actually.”

“Fine.” You stood up and walked off. It must’ve taken Kenny a moment to process, because you got a little bit of a head start before he caught up with you in a hallway, where you stumbled slightly and then ended up leaning against the wall. 

You were dizzy and your body felt both light and heavy all at once. You wrapped your arms around yourself, craving some kind of pressure. You started to slide down the wall when you felt someone’s hand on your arm, following you down until you were both on the floor with whoever it was’ arms wrapped around you giving you the physical touch you’d been desiring.

“I’ve got you. You’re fine.”

You groaned. Of course, it was Kenny. You wanted to pull away, but instead you flopped over onto him, laying your head on his shoulder. He gently trailed his fingers down your bare arm, your jacket long since missing in the chaos of the party. 

“You just sleepy or do you feel like you’re going to be sick or something?” he asked softly. You shook your head, “No. Where’s my fucking vape?”

Kenny chuckled lowly, “I don’t know, babe. Did you bring it in with you?”

You nodded, wrapping an arm around his middle, “My jacket.”

“You’re not wearing a jacket.”

“I am.”

“You definitely aren’t. You’re wearing a sparkly pink dress.” He leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to your exposed shoulder, “See, no jacket.”

You let out a whimper of disgust before Kenny reached into his pocket and handed you a hunter green colored vape pen, “It’s not your peach mango whatever the fuck that shit you smoke is, but…”

“Ugh, it’s menthol. Just give it to me.”

“How’d you remember that?” 

You shrugged and took a long hit, holding it for a moment before exhaling. You handed the pen back to him and watched as several people walked by, barely missing stepping on you or tripping over your feet. Kenny took notice of this and started to stand, helping you up along the way.

“No, I wanna sit.” You slurred, shaking your head.

“Why don’t we go home…” He said, “My parents are out for the night doing fuck knows what and Karen’s at her friend’s. It’ll just be us and you can get some sleep.”

When you were back on your feet, you shook your head, “No…I'm not sleeping with you. Not again, not after all that shit.” 

“No, no, no…not like that. I wouldn’t do that. I meant like…actually sleep.” He corrected himself, putting an arm around your waist as he started subtly leading you towards the door.

“Stop…why are you holding me? You don’t even like me!” You were starting to get louder as you spoke and Kenny looked at you with concern. He tightened his grip on you as you walked down the steps and headed towards his truck, hoping you wouldn’t fall.

“I do like you! I wouldn’t be helping you if I didn’t.”

“No, like…like me, like me…you dont like me.”

“Y/N…”

“Just shut up, Kenny.” You opened his truck door and flopped yourself in, slamming the door haphazardly behind you. Kenny pinched the bridge of his nose before walking to the other side of the truck, getting in and starting the engine. He leaned over and buckled you in and then took off his hoodie, leaving him in a white wife beater. He folded it up and then nudged you gently.

“Sit up.”

You moved a little away from your position of leaning up against the window long enough for him to slide the hoodie under your head. However, as soon as he positioned it, you sat up and pulled it down. You unbuckled your seatbelt and threw the hoodie onto your body. 

You heard Kenny mutter some curse words as he stopped backing out of the spot he was parked in to reach over and buckle you back into the seat with a sigh. You were about halfway to Kenny’s house when you felt your chest tighten. At first, you thought you were going to throw up. You were about to reach over and get Kenny’s attention so that he could pull over when you realized what was truly building inside of you and you broke down in tears.

Your head went into your hands as you sobbed. “What the…” Kenny spoke under his breath, turning his attention from the road to you briefly, reaching over to put his hand on your back, rubbing small circles.

“Hey…no…shhh…what’s got you so upset, babygirl?” he asked.

“Stop it!” You sobbed, reaching behind you to swat his hand away, “Stop saying that. Stop touching me. You don’t love me, so stop it!”

Kenny was silent momentarily, “What’s gotten into you? Like, I know we haven’t seen each other since that day in your room…and that’s my fault. I should’ve like…reached out or something, but I thought you hated me and…I promise. I fucking promise…I didn’t mean for it to come out the way that it did.”

“How else could it come out?” You cried, “You basically admitted that you didn’t want to be in a relationship with me and only wanted to fuck me even though I wanted to be with you and then you told me that you hadn’t told anyone about us probably because you wanted to fuck every girl you could this summer before they all packed it up and went back to college. That’s fucking ridiculous, Kenny. I thought the whole ‘McWhoremick” thing was like…a joke or like…the way your friends shit on you, but Jesus Christ.”

“I hadn’t told anyone because I didn’t know what we were and like…I knew that I liked you, but I didn’t know what else to do about it because Marj had told me so many times that you could do better and like…especially after that fight in your room…I knew you could do better so I just…tried to let you find that better? I don’t know. I really don’t know.”

“You never know! That’s the problem! How do you not know? You either love me or you don’t!”

“I just…”

You scoffed, “I love you! I love you. Is that the worst thing you’ve ever heard?”

He was silent for ages, only saying something about how you were drunk a mere seconds after your confession. You didn’t know at what point you’d pulled into Kenny’s driveway, but as soon as you registered where you were, you got out of the car and tried to storm towards the door, but stumbled, falling to your knees on the pavement. The sting of the scrape only added to your tears. You reached up and wiped your eyes, your crying becoming quieter as you were lifted to your feet by the boy who pulled you into his arms, running his fingers through your hair, pressing a kiss to your temple.

“It’s okay. You’re okay. Let's get you inside. We’ll clean your knees up…and wash your makeup off…and get you some water…and you can lay down.”

And that’s exactly what he did for you. You walked in and almost immediately collapsed onto his bed. He took this opportunity to clean your scraped knees and then got you up into a sitting position and helped you change into his hoodie and a spare pair of his boxers. You were half-asleep by the time that he took a makeup wipe to your face and started wiping the messy makeup off of your features. 

Lastly, Kenny got you situated in his bed, pulling the covers up and kissing your forehead. “I’m right here on the floor if you need anything. Popcorn bowl is on the floor. Water bottle is right next to it. Please, wake me up if you need me. I’ll be fine.”

You nodded in agreement, but then spoke up, “Can you stay with me?”

“Huh?” he asked, looking up at you from where he was sitting on the floor.

“Please sleep with me…” You said, reaching out towards him.

He chuckled, “You sure?”

You nodded again and scooted over to make room for him. He slid into the bedsheets and carefully positioned himself next to you, allowing you to move over and lay with your head on his chest. He wrapped his arms around you and closed his eyes, drifting off to sleep.

The next few hours were littered with infrequent bouts of sleep mixed with burying your face into the popcorn bowl as your stomach purged itself of the alcohol that remained in your system, running to the bathroom on the few chances you felt you could make it, crying, and drinking water. The entire time, Kenny held you, held your hair back, and wiped your face with a cool washcloth. 

By the time you woke up the next day around 1PM, you were still exhausted, not feeling well, and fairly lost in regards to the events of last night. You just knew that you woke up with Kenny wrapped around you and you were in his hoodie and boxers and you prayed to whatever higher power may be out there that you hadn’t fucked him again.

You sat up and ran a hand through your hair, looking around until your eyes fell on your charging phone laying on the ground. You picked it up and saw two texts from Marjorine on top.

She’ll be okay.

Hehehe I knew it ;)

“What?” you whispered, unlocking your phone. You went straight to Marjorine’s text thread. Under your last response to her, a “kk!” from when she arrived at your house before the party, there was a longish thread of messages that clearly went between her and Kenny.

Where are you? I’ve been looking for you for an hour! Are you okay?

Hey, Marj. Thanks for giving me her passcode. My phone died right after I called you and I put her phone on the charger in my room. I can charge mine when she wakes up.

Is she okay? Omg.

Yeah, just going back between screaming, crying, and throwing up…literally. At least she started that once we’d already left or it would’ve been real bad. 

Bless her heart! What’d you say to get her so upset?

It wasn’t me! Damn. She just got upset…about us…and then screamed at me that she loved me.

And you said?

Nothing. She was drunk. 

Drunk words are sober thoughts. ;)

So, you think Cartman is sexy, huh?

Oh my goddddd stop. That isn’t true and this isn’t about me. What do you think of her?

I…might’ve realized I fucked up literally the night we had that fight…and I haven’t known what to do about it…so…I just…loved her in secret and accepted that she deserved better. I’m just worried she’s going to wake up and like…regret saying all of this and like trying to have this conversation with me again.

She’ll be okay.

Hehehe I knew it ;)

Your chest felt full and tight all at the same time and your eyes soon fell upon the sleeping blonde, who was still wrapped around you despite you sitting upright at this point. You reached down and ran your fingers through his hair gently. A few passes through his blonde locks and he stirred, looking up at you.

“Morning, beautiful.” he spoke groggily, “You okay?”

You nodded, “Just tired…”

“Mm…come lay back down then. Let's go back to bed.”

It was your turn to smirk over at him, “You love me, huh?”

“What?”

You pulled up the texts again, showing him and then reading his own words to him verbatim, “So…I just…loved her in secret and accepted that she deserved better.”

“Hey, that’s a private conversation!” he laughed.

“On my phone…” You retorted.

“Yeah!”

“So, do you love me?” You moved back down to laying next to him, turned on your side, propped up on your elbow. He blushed, lips curving back up into his famous devious grin.

“Ain’t that the worst thing you’ve ever heard?”

“I think I've heard worse.”

With a giggle and a kiss to his lips, your relationship with Kenny transitioned just as the seasons outside had started to move from the bright colors of an otherwise dark summer for you to the warm, comforts of fall…all starting and ending in that beat-up pickup. 

Devils roll the dice, angels roll their eyes

What doesn't kill me makes me want you more

[lost-walmartbag]

First impressions pt 2

Song

Warning: Swearing

Background: You finally meet Eric's mom

Status: ongoing

Previous part

Next part

Potato salad

"Y/N, calm down. It's ok. You don't have to stress so much." Eric said, reaching for your shoulder as you frantically ran around the kitchen.

"No! I'm meeting your mom. This has to be perfect!" You said as you looked around the kitchen cabinets.

Eric drew his hand back and stared at you. "I just- You don't have to be so nervous. My mom isn't some fancy queen of some European country neither of us can pronounce. She's just a normal person."

"Eric! Please. I don't care if you think she's normal. She's your mom. She birthed you. Raised you. I want to be on her good side." You said pulling a large glass tupperware dish from the fridge.

"Is that.." Eric started as he stared at the dish.

"Potato salad. My great grandma's recipe. I need to make an impression." You said looking up at him. "Why? Oh my god is your mom allergic to potatoes?"

"What? No." He said taking a deep breath as he thought about his next words. "Look. Y/N I love that you care so much. Really I do. But my mom is going to love you. I promise."

Eric's words made you calm down a bit. Eric smiled softly when he saw you finally take a breath, but he couldn't ignore the fact that he knew he was lying to you.

"Ok. Ok. I'll calm down. I'm gonna go get dressed, and we can head out." You said putting the Tupperware in an ice chest.

"I'll get everything in the car. Just take your time." He said, kissing your forehead and cracking a small smile. "Now go get dressed, beautiful."

As you made your way out, he gave a quick slap to your ass that was way too hard. You yelp and shoot him a glare, which he just looked away from to hide his smirk.

"Sadist." You mutter before leaving the room to get dressed.

Eric chuckled and let out a sigh. "You have no idea."

-♡-

The drive to South Park was long. Emphasis on long. It took a few hours of just driving. It was nice at first, but after a while, Eric got irritated. It was mostly from hunger. You had packed a few things but not enough to replace a whole meal.

"I'm sorry I didn't pack more." You said with a small frown.

"No no no. I should have packed something. I knew this drive was gonna be long. I'm not mad at you I just wish...I should have packed that was my bad."

"Still I'm sorry I've just been so all over the place but I should have packed food for us. I'm so stupid." You said bringing the heel of your palms to your eyes.

"Hey. None of that." He said putting his hand on your head as he focused on the road.

You put your hands down and looked at him. He smiled without facing you, but his hand moved down under your chin making you laugh softly.

"There she is. Now give me an apple. I can at least survive off that for a few more hours."

"Why don't we stop at a gas station?"

"Ya know. I um. I didn't think of that."

-♡-

After a few more hours you eventually made it to South Park and holy fuck was it snowy. You looked out the window and looked around. Not that there was much to look at.

"It's pretty."

"It's lame and small."

"A little but it's where you grew up so it can't be that bad."

"You have no idea how wrong you are." He muttered under his breath.

He drove up to a decently sized green house. The color was admittedly not very pretty but you didn't want to say that. As Eric parked in the driveway he stayed seated and let out a shaky breath.

"Hey, you ok? I kinda should be the only one nervous here." You said with a small laugh which Eric cracked a smile at but he still seemed...scared?

"I know I just...being here again. It's...fuck Y/N I don't wanna take you in there." He said looking over at you and putting his hand on your thigh.

You put your hand over his and looked into his eyes. "What's wrong?"

"There's something I didn't tell you. I'm so fucking scared to but Y/N I-"

"Eric is that you?" A woman called out from the front door.

You couldn't really see her from where you were but you could see Eric physically cringe the minute he heard her voice.

"Fuck.." He muttered before pulling away and opening his car door. You did the same and stepped out.

The woman ran over and hugged Eric. She practically jumped in his arms, but Eric stayed stiff.

"H-hey mom." He said in a shaky voice that she didn't seem to notice.

You walked over to his side and looked at them with a nervous smile. Ok Y/N this is your chance time to make a good impression.

You put out your hand and put on your warmest smile. "H-Hi I'm-"

"Who are you?" She said switching from her once sweet motherly voice to one of pure ice.

She was glaring at you with a frown and you just knew it was gonna be a long night.

Fuck how did you already fuck up?

A/N: BOOM! Double upload on your forehead! I have so many plans for this series so I'm very happy I get to post a new chapter of this. Hope you guys like this and stay with me for this story. Thank ya'll for reading I love love love you 🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷

[eliounora]

I'm not a big disney fan outside of childhood nostalgia but every time I see one of those prince rankings I'm like ok but I could rank them better. and I happened to be bored so I did

some mentions I have to make so people don't wonder:

flynn rider: basic choice. scientifically engineered to be a hot man. no bite or edge to him. if you look at concept art he was supposed to be a big guy but they changed him to this market researched douche with a soul patch. absolute travesty

aladdin: he’s cute and good-hearted, lies to get his way but learns to be true to himself. lessons we all learn in life. next

jim: has the best song. i too want the moment to be real

phoebus: mmm. ehh

prince charming: literally what it says on the tin. storybook prince. not a man, a plot device

cinderella's prince: has a thing for feet. nice. funny in the sequels but a cardboard box is more interesting than his design

and now the top 10:

10. hercules: hunky demigod himbo. true hero is tested by the strength of his heart. the lesson all gym bros need to learn.

9. quasimodo: has heart and character, and sang “out there” like an angel.

8. prince eric: spends all his days with his dog and playing the recorder. who let him out of containment. too nervous to kiss a girl he likes even though she is sending obvious signals. he wants to get the know her better. king

7. tarzan: loin-clothed hunk with the facial structure of a statue. roams the jungle to the tunes of phil collins. loves his mom without being weird about it. prime man

6. the beast: eye and soul candy for the monsterfuckers. hot take but he wasn’t that bad as a human. he was hot. especially when you consider that his backstory included him being so snobby and vain that he was turned into the beast. like isn't that the consequences of your actions pretty boy. love to see it

5. milo: linguist. has round glasses and that 90s curtain haircut. all features that can indicate sleeziness but he is a good guy, meaning sometimes a man with round glasses and 90s curtain haircut can be trusted. a lanky charming nerd and therefore my exact type unfortunately

4. kenai: excellent protagonist. so deep in the throes of toxic masculinity he gets turned into a bear. isn't that the consequences of your actions pretty boy

3. shang li: bisexual king. nothing more to add.

2. prince naveen: now I may come from a protestant culture but a lazy jackass learning the value of hard work and love is what it’s all about. a dish. gets turned into a frog, isn't that the consequences of your actions pretty bo-

1. robin hood: “he's a fox hahah furry" FUCK YOU. HE IS THE FINEST MAN OUT THERE. HE HANGS OUT WITH HIS BEST FRIEND IN THE WOODS. HE HAS BEEN TRUE TO HIS SWEETHEART SINCE CHILDHOOD. he thinks he’s not good enough for her, but in a chivalrous way instead of pathetic. steals from the rich and gives to the poor. great with kids. they don’t make men like this anymore, and with that I mean men of integrity. “MARIAN MY DARLING I LOVE YOU MORE THAN LIFE ITSELF.” (CRIES)(THROUGH TEARS) LOVE IT SEEMS LIKE ONLY YESTERDAY YOU WERE JUST A CHILD AT PLAY