#I hate that I’m gonna be twenty next month

[vpyre]

We really are all suffering together, huh? The tags in the rbs of that last post feel almost comforting bc even if we’re all suffering at least we’re not suffering alone. Solidarity! I guess. It took my mind off of things for a second purely bc my therapist friend instincts kicked in and I felt the urge to comfort everyone talking about the rough shit they’re dealing with. I love humanity so much sometimes. I wish I could hold everyone in the world who’s hurting and promise them that better things are coming. Alas I am but one man. I guess the next best thing to do is care for the people I can and hope it passes on to others.

[johnbrand]

Quincy

Since we first became roommates, Quincy's transformation over the years had been quite spectacular. When we had first started college and been randomly assigned together, I had not thought anything of him. Quincy was not special, just a lanky ginger from the next state over. But I soon came face to face with the tale-as-old-as-time book cover expression, as his first impressions have meant little over the years we have spent together. Now in our mid-twenties, it was fair to say that the only part of Quincy that was still that lanky freshman I met was the bright red hair.

Quincy had come in as a socially-awkward bookworm, an accounting major who aspired to join his father’s practice after graduation. He was smart, soft spoken, and lean, which I soon learned was because he had been a decent swimmer in high school. But over every winter and summer break, Quincy came back to campus looking just a little bit different, and eventually acting a bit different too.

It started that second semester of freshman year, when I entered the dorm after a rough baseball practice. The team had been forced to stay nearby over the holidays, so I had not seen Quincy in almost a month. When I walked through the door all sweaty and gross, I had not expected for Quincy to be there.

“Quincy?” I smiled, being friendly. “You’re back already?”

“Yeah, I uh…had a project to finish with Sam, you know the basketball player from down the hall?” Quincy replied, shifting awkwardly a bit. It was strange, but it almost appeared like he had grown an inch in our time apart, but his fidgeting prevented me from truly discerning this difference. “You can ask him, if you don’t believe me...”

Sensing the nervousness, I put one of my best traits to work. “Nah bro, I was just surprised. Glad to see you back though.” It was a strong suit of mine, controlling the room without appearing like it. I was confident and casual, something that made others like and respect me. “I’m gonna be leaving in a bit though, I got a date with Kenzie tonight. We’ll have to catch up later.”

In the hallway on my way out, Sam caught me to say hello. I had not recognized him at first, the coppery color of his hair a stark difference from his once raven black. I assumed it had been a bad dye job as a result of initiation hazing from his teammates. Our conversation was quick, but long enough for me to notice that our eye levels met. I could have sworn he was taller than me.

The second semester flew and by the time we considered sophomore year, Quincy and I agreed to room with each other. The next time I saw him, it appeared he had taken an interest in weightlifting. I applauded him for his efforts, asking how he had packed a good amount of muscle in a short time. He said that Vance, one of my baseball teammates, had been at the same gym as him and the two became fast buddies. I felt bad breaking the unfortunate news that Vance was no longer on the team, stating that he was taking a break for “strength conditioning.”  I had not seen him since he tendered his resignation, his fiery hair drawing my attention more than his prepared remarks. Quincy appeared unaffected by my announcement.

Winter break, another summer break, junior year, and senior year all flew by, and Quincy continued to grow. Somehow, he became jacked, like really jacked. He gained bulging biceps and triceps that had taken me twice as long to develop, quads and calves that put mine to shame. He also got more attractive, something that I hated to admit. His abs, which had popped up out of nowhere, had become the talk of the campus, and by our last semester, his face had appeared to be carved by Greek gods. more visible than ever. He had practically become a sensation overnight: not too big and intimidating, but not to shrimpy and unnoticeable. Yet at heart, Quincy was still the same accounting nerd, and I was actually happy for him, until he started stealing my hookups. 

In all honesty, I was probably just jealous of his incredible growth. And the fact that he constantly had girls and guys (to my surprise, but I had no problem with it) working his monster-sized cock–the size assumed by the noises from his room. But I kept my cool, and when he asked if I would consider continuing our living situation, I obliged. More time passed, and I watched him become quite the alpha male. At a certain point, it felt like everyone in the city knew Quincy. And strangely unrelated, at a certain point, it felt like everyone who Quincy brought home was a redhead too, or at least the ones I saw leaving the next morning. 

“God, he is such a pathetic dick,” Quincy groaned, changing into a more casual fit after having come home from a rough day at work. I was perched on the side of his bed, my muscles still sore from the two hours I had just blown at the gym.

“It wasn’t Marco again, was it?” I asked casually, referencing the twink who had recently been avoiding Quincy’s advances.

“I just don’t get it, what else could he want from me?” Quincy flaunted his body. “Everybody wanted me; I’ve got everything he could want!”

“Bro, he probably knows that you're hot,” I remarked. “If I were you, and Marco was like Marcie or something, I’d just be cool about it, and after a bit act like you're indifferent. Make him miss the attention, and soon he’ll rush out and profess his feelings or whatever. If you hold a stronger resolution, rather than flaunting it, he will do all the work and come to you.”

Quincy considered this for a moment, but then another idea appeared to flick through his head. “Yeah…but, it could also just be easier to…”

In a flash, he grabbed my head and I dazed out in front of him. It felt like something was being absorbed out of me, but I assumed my energy had just been spent. After about a minute, I came back to full consciousness. I realized I had fallen back into Quincy's bed during my dizzy spell. 

“Thanks for sharing, man,” Quincy sneered, crawling forward on top of me. “You were right about that whole resolution thing. I feel like I can stay assertive and collected enough to lure Marco in now.”

I tried to question what Quincy had meant by that. Why would such a cool, confident guy like Quincy ever want to take advice on how to be nonchalant from me? After all, I had always been quite the nervous wreck; in fact Quincy had been the one who had helped me get rid of my stutter freshman year. But before I could consider the thought further, Quincy’s hands pulled my jeans down, and then my legs up and over my head. Unable to voice a word or protest, I let him.

“Why don’t you show me how Marco will react after I lure him in?” Quincy smirked. I gulped weakly, his strong resolution overwhelming and obliterating my own.

“Yes, that’s it,” Quincy grinded his hard member against my bottom. “I should’ve done this a long time ago, I always knew you’d look better as a ginger.”

[hoonven]

IS IT NEW YEARS YET?

1.2K ⸺ a christmas hater and a christmas lover find themselves in the kitchen of a cozy apartment, trading sarcasm, small talk, and maybe a little more

PAIRING! yang jungwon x female reader

GENRES! fluff, comedy, frenemies trope

PLAYLIST! is it new years yet? by sabrina carpenter

WARNINGS! reader doesn't like christmas, reader drinks cocoa, mention of food

December is a prison.

Everywhere you look, someone is trying to shove some holiday cheer down your throat. You hate it. The blinding, glittering lights and tinny jingles that cause a headache trying way too hard to convince you that this is the most wonderful time of the year.

The relentless cheer, the endless loop of Mariah Carey in every store, the corny hallmark movies, inflatable Santas, and people pretending eggnog is drinkable and fruitcake is edible. You don’t buy it. For you, December is just another month to survive, one suffocating under an avalanche of forced cheer and bad decisions disguised as tradition. The holiday shoppers, the sweaters, the increase of whining children—it’s all too much.

Yet here you are, trapped in a Christmas Eve party that feels more like a hostage situation. You’d planned on staying home with a glass of wine and a movie that didn’t feature talking reindeer or falling snow, but your friend—if you can even call her that—insisted. And because you have a masochistic streak, or maybe just a lack of willpower, you showed up.

You’ve stationed yourself in the kitchen, it’s quieter here, a sanctuary compared to the crowded living room packed with people you barely know, all laughing too loudly and swapping gifts you’re certain will end up in a landfill by February.

You’ve been hiding out here for the past twenty minutes, nursing a drink and hoping no one will notice your absence. Arms crossed, leaning against the counter, glaring at the glittery centerpiece on the table like it personally offended you.

“Well, if it isn’t our resident holiday killjoy.”

You don't have to look to know who it is. The voice is unmistakable—light, teasing, and annoyingly smug.

Jungwon.

You glance at him anyway, because ignoring him won’t make him go away.

He’s leaning against the doorway, his ridiculous Christmas sweater somehow managing to look good on him. It’s got a snowman with googly eyes, and you want to hate it, but the worst part is you don’t. His grin is as infuriating as always—bright, mischievous, and unbothered, his eyes sparkling with amusement as he takes in your expression that screams don’t talk to me.

“And here I thought you were too busy decking the halls to notice me,” you reply, your voice dripping with sarcasm.

He smirks, stepping into the kitchen like he owns the place. “Oh, I noticed you. You’re kind of hard to miss when you’re the only person in this joint giving off Scrooge energy.”

“I’m not giving off Scrooge energy,” you snap, though you are. “I’m avoiding unnecessary human interaction, which, by the way, you’re currently ruining.”

Jungwon doesn’t take the hint. He never does. Instead, he grabs a cookie off the counter, takes a bite, and leans casually against the counter next to you. “So, what’s the escape plan? Gonna fake a tummy ache or claim you have to leave early because of some elaborate story you clearly just made up?”

You decide not to admit it was the latter, the last thing you need tonight is to prove Jungwon right.

“I was thinking of just walking out,” you say dryly. “No excuses. Just leave.”

He snorts. “Bold move. Very on-brand for you.”

Finally, you turn to face him, narrowing your eyes. “Why are you here, Jungwon? Don’t you have some caroling to do or a snowman to build?”

He grins, unfazed by your sarcasm. “Oh, I’ve already done both. I'm here to check on you, you know, like Cindy Lou Who did for the Grinch?”

“Your heart is two sizes too small,” he says, and proceeds to make the dumbest sad face you've ever seen.

You try to fight the tiny smile tugging at your lips but fail. Jungwon notices, of course, because he notices everything.

“See? I knew you didn't hate Christmas that much,” he says, triumphantly.

You sigh, crossing your arms. “I don’t hate it. I just don’t see the point. It’s loud, obnoxious, and overrated.”

“Or,” he counters, gesturing toward the living room, where people are laughing and exchanging gifts by a sparkling tree. “It's about that.”

You raise an eyebrow, skeptical. But there's a slight tug at your heartstrings as you watch a girl hug her friend with tears pricking her eyes. “What exactly are we looking at?”

He tilts his head, studying you with that irritatingly perceptive gaze of his. “You know, you’re like a walking anti-Christmas PSA. It’s impressive, really.”

You roll your eyes. “And you’ve clearly auditioned for Santa’s favorite elf.”

“Wrong. I’m more of a ‘holiday mischief maker,’” he says, wiggling his eyebrows. “And right now, my mission is to annoy you with all the holiday cheer I can possibly muster.”

You glare at him, but there’s no real heat behind it. The worst part is, Jungwon is so annoyingly persistent and unshakably optimistic that part of you almost envies him. Almost.

“It's nice.” you shrug. “But not everyone thinks this season is magical, you know.”

“Ah, I see. You’re one of those people who hates Christmas because it never lives up to the hype.”

You pause, caught off guard by how easily he’s summed you up. “It’s not about the hype,” you say finally, avoiding his gaze. “It’s about how empty it all feels. Everyone’s running around acting like this one day is supposed to fix everything, but it doesn’t. We’ll all go back to our regular lives the next day like none of it ever happened.”

He doesn’t respond right away, and for a second, you think you’ve actually managed to scare him off. But then he leans closer, his voice softer now, less playful. “You know what I think? I think you’re trying so hard not to care that you’ve forgotten how to let yourself enjoy the small stuff.”

You blink at him, thrown by the sudden sincerity in his tone. “And you’re suddenly the expert on what I need?”

“Not an expert,” he says, his grin returning. “Just observant.”

He gestures toward the party again. “Look, I get it. The holidays can be a lot. But they can also be kind of great, if you let them. Like right now—this could be one of those moments you look back on, and it’s not about the decorations or the music. It’s just… people. Being together. Isn’t that worth something?”

You arch an eyebrow. “Do you hear yourself right now? You sound like a Hallmark movie character.”

“And you sound like someone who’s never actually tried to enjoy Christmas,” he shoots back, smirking.

You snort, shaking your head. “I can't believe people really believe all that.”

“Well, I do.” He holds up his cookie like a toast. “And by the end of the night, I’m betting I’ll convince you too.”

“Well, don’t hold your breath,” you say, reaching for the mug of cocoa that was surprisingly still warm and taking a sip. It’s too sweet, just like everything else tonight, but somehow, with Jungwon standing there, it doesn’t feel quite as unbearable.

And for a moment, you let yourself enjoy it.

“Don’t worry,” he says with a wink. “I’m patient.”

“Good luck with that,” you mutter, but there’s a faint smile tugging at the corner of your lips now, one you can’t quite suppress.

Jungwon notices, of course. He always does. You imagine he always will. And as much as you hate to admit it, you’re kind of glad he came into the kitchen.

December was a bore, and you were sick and tired of this holiday, but small talk in the kitchen with Yang Jungwon wasn't half bad.

© 2024 hoonven, all rights reserved. i do not give permission to modify, repost, translate, or plagiarize my works on any platform. NETWORK! @kstrucknet

[scorpiomother]

there is a light that never goes out

･ﾟ★ most of these days, i don't get too intimate / why would i let you in? but i think again

pairing: tasm!peter parker x f!reader

summary: you’ve tried to ignore the pestering infatuation you harbor for your fellow camp counselor, but when last day debauchery ensues, the lines between friendship and love blur.

tags: slow burn. summer camp. friends to lovers. pining. alcohol usage.

word count: 4.4k

a/n: mother is back and here is my love letter to the feverish bliss of a season and to everyones favorite muse, peter parker + this only took a broken laptop, nicotine and a full year to finish... so enjoy<3

playlist ☆ masterlist ☆ read on ao3 ☆ kofi

You don’t think it’s possible to feel any warmer, but the mixture of everything is weighing in on you. The blossoming bonfire in accordance with the sultry sun. The tipsy hum in your chest. The occasional graze of Peter’s arm against your shoulder.

Sometimes you can’t bring yourself to look at him and this is one of those times.

Maybe it’s the fact that it’s the last day and you don’t know exactly what to do with yourself. Or it could be the muffled buzz in your chest that’s growing by the minute; telling you to do things you shouldn’t. Admit things you can’t. If you look at him for too long, you’re sure that your better judgment will fade into that tempting hum. 

You squint past the sun rays reflecting off of the lake and focus on all of the small things that don’t mean anything to you. A bottle here, a crushed can there. The flicker and burn of the fire. The new stains on your old Converse.

You search for the next best thing when a beer bottle appears, floating above your lap.

“Your turn,” Peter says.

His voice makes you want to look. It makes you want to say, huh? Then, he would have to repeat himself and you could watch the way his lips move. Instead, you murmur a soft thank you and take the bottle, eyes cemented on the shoreline.

The campers had left in the morning, and yet the feeling of childish abandonment and delight is still overflowing in the empty campgrounds. The handful of twenty-something-year-olds that stayed back for one last night to “clean up” the camp were quick to revel in the sudden freedom. By the time the last bus left with the campers and older counselors, they were already going on a liquor run and starting a bonfire on the shorelines in nothing but their swimwear. And as nice as it all was, you wish the kids were still there. They would distract you from the thoughts of Peter and now, you don’t know what to do when they come.

As you sip on the lukewarm beer, you feel eyes on you. You look up and sure enough, Peter is staring. His eyes are lighter than normal, a sheen like honey, and his expression is almost quizzical. That glint of amusement catches you off guard. 

“What?” 

“Nothing,” he smiles. “I’m just waiting for you to admit that you hate beer.”

“What?” you repeat with more confusion.

“Every time I pass you the bottle you frown.”

You furrow your brows. “No, I don’t.”

“Sure you do. And after you drink, you make a sour face,” he says plainly.

You’re about to protest when Peter reaches for the bottle and takes it from you, his hand skimming against yours in the process. 

“Creep,” you mumble. You drag your fingers along the skin that he touched and try to ignore the burn. "You’ve known me for like, what? Two months? And you think you know me like the back of your hand.”

“I wish,” he shrugs before downing the rest of the beer.

I wish. You’re biting the inside of your cheek now. “I- I hate you.”

“No, you don’t.”

You can hear the smirk in his voice and when you close your eyes, you can even see it. His closed mouth grin, full of satisfaction and knowing. 

Fuck. 

“I’m gonna get a drink,” you mutter, standing up from the bench.

“‘Cause you hate beer, huh?” 

“‘Cause I’m thirsty.”

“Mhm, alright, Bug,” Peter says, smugly.

You can still feel his eyes on you as you walk towards the cooler by the dock and as much as you want to look back, you don’t.

You rummage through the cooler— a little more frantic than you should be. Beneath all the shitty beer and ice is a thick bottle of margarita mix and you pull it out in triumph. 

“Wow, going for the hard stuff, huh?”

You look up to see Harry standing in front of you with Patron in his right hand and a vape in his left. You scoff, “Says you. This shit is mostly juice anyways.”

Harry settles beside you and watches you pour yourself a cup. He smells like liquor, cologne, and bad news. 

“Make me a cup?” He slurs.

You hum in response.

You don’t trust Harry. Not for any particular reason, but he makes you unsure of yourself and you don’t like that. You fill his cup to the brim and hand it to him carefully.

“I’m surprised Peter isn’t here with you.” 

You roll your eyes. “Don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

“Ah, come on. You guys are two peas in a pod.”

“He’s my friend.”

“Is he though?”

“What else would he be?”

“Everyone knows you guys have a thing for each other.” 

You’re quiet for a moment, ruminating on his words. Your brain is teetering between joke or not. If he isn’t, then what? 

“Just friends,” you murmur in a way that doesn’t reach him. It sticks in the honeyed air like a mantra for yourself. 

Ever since the start of camp, Peter and you had been attached at the hips. You were both the new counselors, whereas everyone else had known each other from the year prior. During counselor orientation and the team-building exercises, you gravitated toward each other, sharing awkward laughs and stupid little comments. As the weeks went by, you got closer and closer. You had just met the guy and he was probably the closest you ever got to a person.

“So, that doesn’t bother you at all?” Harry raises a brow.

You look back and Gwen has replaced you on the bench. Peter’s looking at her with such adoration in his face that makes you feel a pang of jealousy. It spreads through your body like a fever.

His cheeks are full of warmth, laughter bellowing out from him so easily. The subtle flex of his bicep has you staring a little longer than you should. When he catches your stare, you mean to look away but the numbing heat makes you forget.

“What? No. Why would it?” You murmur, turning your attention back to Harry.

“Alright. Well, I’ll help you out. Just ‘cause it’s the last day,” Harry says before pouring an ungodly amount of Patron in your cup.

“Oh- I, um. Okay. Thank you,” you stutter. 

Harry takes his bottle and taps it to your cup. “To friends.”

“To friends,” you mumble under your breath before throwing back a couple of gulps.

Harry starts to talk about nonsense that you can no longer concentrate on. Your ears had zoned in on the laughter behind you, trying to figure out what was so funny to Peter. Have you ever made him laugh like that? 

There’s an invisible string tugging at your face, telling you to look back. Soak up the last of the daylight and the last of Peter, even if it hurts. You want to give into the compulsion, like looking at him is a tick you can’t help, but your attention falls on the dainty bumblebee fluttering innocently in the space between you and Harry.

“Oh, shit,” Harry yelps. His face is full of horror as the small thing dances around him.

“It’s just a bee,” you reassure him. 

Rather than calming down, Harry attempts to pull an ungraceful version of the matrix, bumping into you in the process. 

“Harry!” 

“Fuck, I’m sorry! I just- Fuck!” Before Harry could finish his apology, he’s running far from the docile insect and you.

“Fuckin’ Harry,” you mutter to yourself, looking at the stain of Red40 and Patron on your shirt and then to Peter.

He’s too preoccupied with Gwen to notice the mishap.

Like a small child, it hurts. The possessiveness sticks onto your skin like humidity. 

You down what’s left in your cup in one go and start walking to your cabin.

It was that second week of camp when your heart first succumbed to Peter. The two of you were on night watch and he entertained you with a game of Would You Rather while everyone else on the campgrounds slept soundly and the night insects trilled. 

Would you rather get stung by a bee or watch Isabella all by yourself? 

Give me the bee, you deadpanned.

Ouch, I’m gonna tell her what you said.

You wouldn’t, you scoffed.

You’re right, I won’t. That kid would probably start biting us both. 

One moment you’re laughing and the next, he’s whispering, wait, hold on. Stay still. So you do. You stayed as still as the night and suddenly, his hand was inching closer and closer to your face until his fingers grazed against your cheek. He held an eyelash in front of your lips and gently said, make a wish.

You hesitantly whispered a delicate oh, okay before absentmindedly blowing the eyelash away. 

I hope it was a good one, he grinned.

It was, you lied.

Everything after was hazy, with constant flashes of making a wish. If you could do it again, you would tell yourself to get a grip and not waste such a precious wish like you just did. If you could do it again, you would wish that Peter would grab that eyelash off your cheek again and again and again.

You’re already feeling the drink make its way to your head as you head on over to your cabin. You underestimated Harry’s heavy hand and the heat is working against you. Annoyingly, the wet shirt is enough to cool you down.

You wonder where the time went. It’s overwhelming to think about, especially now that you’re tipsy. Time is slipping through your fingers and you don’t know how you’re supposed to go back to the city and let this all turn into a memory— let Peter turn into a memory. 

In all honesty, you’re not so sure that you can. Eight weeks of children watching and sun soaking. Eight weeks of Peter and all of those almost kisses (two to be exact). Where was it supposed to go? In a shoebox of memories, farther away than you’d like it to be?

There’s a swelling feeling in your chest that quickly dissipates when Peter comes running behind you.

“Hey, hey, where did you go?”

You want to be spiteful and ask him what happened to Gwen. Instead, you bite your tongue.

“I’m right here, Bear,” you say.

“Well, yeah. I mean, what happened?”

“I just wanted to get something to drink and I-”

“You spilled all over yourself.”

“No, I didn’t. Harry did and I need a new shirt.”

“My cabin is right here,” he points out.

“It’s okay, I have my own clothes.”

“Bug, stop being stubborn.” He grabs your wrist, and you have no choice but to stop and look at him. The swelling returns as his brown eyes try to read you. “Trust me.”

“Okay?” 

You sigh. “Okay.”

His cabin is identical to yours. Three beds. Creaky wood all over. Light smell of mildew. You were there once before but you try not to think about it too much.

“Here, sit,” he says, patting the mattress.

Like a loyal dog, you obey quietly.

While Peter rustles through the drawers, mumbling where did I put it? you gaze at the Polaroids decorating the wall like his own personal scrapbook.

You notice one particular photo with you in it. You were setting up the projector for the first Movie Mondays. That night The Princess and the Frog played, the lights flickering green and blue on the flimsy screen that took you and Peter too long to put up. 

Oh my god, you sobbed halfway into the movie. Ray, the firefly, was singing Evangeline to his star, and it was enough to trigger an embarrassing fit out of you.

Are you crying? Peter whispered.

I’ve never wanted to be a bug so bad before, you laughed pitifully. You wrapped your arms around your legs and let the stray tears fall on your knees. You wanted to pout and blame your hysteria on Peter. He didn’t know it but he had an annoying habit of turning you into a child. 

You’re pretty when you cry, he said.

With your head on your knees, you bit your lip. You- you’re stupid.

I don’t think that’s what you say when someone gives you a compliment.

You’re making fun of me.

Am not, Bug, he said for the first time. 

With teary eyes, you looked for the truth on his face. His eyes softened. Without noticing, you licked your lips and you swore he did the same. It happened so fast you couldn’t remember and suddenly you were wondering if you leaned in, would he do the same? Before you could test your theory, there was a tap on your shoulder.

I think I just ate peanuts, Susie said.

What?

My throat is itchy.

Oh!

Luckily, little Susie was okay, but you weren’t. That night you couldn’t sleep. That look on his face stuck with you. If you were crazy, you would’ve thought that he wanted to kiss you. 

Still, you’re unsure.  

You open your mouth to ask him if he remembers that night, but he interrupts you.

 “I kind of miss them,” he says, head still in the dresser. 

“Your army of fanboys?”

“Yeah, if you want to call them that,” he laughs. 

“It was pretty sweet how they looked up to you.”

“Maybe, I should start a cult.”

You snort. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.” 

“Why do you hate me?” Peter looks back at you and tilts his head with a boyish smile that makes you look away.

He returns his attention to the drawers and you begin to get impatient.

“You know I don’t need anything special, right? I just need… A shirt.”

”Bug,” he says firmly. “When did you get so bratty?”

“I- You’re taking a long time,” you redden.

You tap your foot against the old wood and stare at the back of his head bobbing and searching. His hair is overgrown, longer than it was when you first met him. If you were brave enough, you would run your hands through it.

“If you think about it, we were basically paid to be cult leaders for eight weeks,” he says.

“Oh. We’re still talking about cults. Great.”

“How does one go about making a cult anyways?”

“Hold on, let me just look for a cult leader’s TED talk.”

“So sarcastic, Bug.” 

“Only for you, Bear,” you joke.  

“Good.”

Your ears turn hot and you’re licking your lips again. The raspiness in his voice feels all too serious. 

You’re silent again. It’s quiet enough you can hear the Earth past Peter’s search. Trees rustle. The wind caresses the grass. If you listen hard enough, you swear you can hear sunshine, but maybe it’s just the alcohol. Eventually another drawer shuts.

“Here,” he says. He finally turns around and stands up with a shy expression on his face that makes you smile. In his hand is a red and blue tie dye shirt he made in the early weeks of camp.

When you reach for it, you zone in on the beaded bracelet on his wrist, a silly little nothing that you made for him a week ago. You might as well have threaded the beads to say IHAVEACRUSHONYOU, but the nickname you called him was safer.

You partially regret the bracelet as the cringey gift screams elementary innocence, but now you had something of his. You were even.

“Thank you,” you say.

“Yeah. I’ll meet you outside.”

“It’s fine,” you say before you can think. “I mean it’ll only take three seconds. You’ve seen me without a shirt before, hah.”

“Someone’s drunk,” he chuckles. 

You turn away before he can see you blush. “Not really…”

In one swift motion, you sling off the stained shirt and drape it along the end of his bed frame and pick up Peter’s replacement shirt.

“Oh, it’s healing nicely,” Peter says, surprised.

You look back in an attempt to look at the once opened wound on your back. “Thanks to you, I guess.”

Due to peer pressure from freshly graduated fourth graders, you had jumped off the cliff right into the lake and your back grazed against a submerged rock. It wasn’t anything serious. Barely deep enough for medical attention and the adrenaline from the jump turned you numb.

It was the first time he touched you, really touched you. A deliberate palm to your side rather than an unintentional graze of the knuckles. It made you think of other ways you could hurt yourself just so the two of you could play an innocent game of doctor.

I can’t just drink this by myself, you whined. 

I’m about to put a needle through you, you really want me to drink alcohol right now?

I trust you, you admitted unwillingly.

Once he stitched you up, you sat together side by side on his bed with your shirt still over your neck and your bathing suit now cold on your skin. He pressed his hand on your thigh, saying all better. It was enough to warm you up. Enough to make you forget why you never kissed him. Enough to make you want to.

He squeezed the fleshy part of your thigh, and you exhaled. Peter.

It’s Dr. Parker to you.

One moment you’re whispering, stupid, and the next your nose was grazing his with two parting lips just barely touching. His own breath matched yours. Cinnamon, and booze. Warm and wanting. You gently nudged your nose against his before you could come to.

With lips hovering and agape and adrenaline clouding your mind, you thought he was about to kiss you, for sure this time. But when Gwen knocked on the door, calling out to Peter, kissing was the last thing you wanted to do. The only option was to run away. Run back into that lake and sink all the way to the bottom.

When you throw the shirt on, the fabric grazes against the healing scar. The cotton is soft and weightless. You could immediately smell the familiar evergreen and pine. 

“Red and blue look good on you,” Peter says and you have to force yourself to not think anything of it. Friends compliment each other. No big deal.

“You should keep it,” he adds and then you’re thinking, okay, kind of a big deal. But you don’t have it in you to protest. If this was the only thing you could get from Peter, then you were happy. Almost satisfied.

“Alright,” you say and wear it like a promise ring.

By the time you two make it back to the lake, the sun is nearly set. The bonfire melts into the fire in the sky, a burnt orange streak floating above the lake. Smoke and char wafts in the air and you notice everyone huddled up in a circle. There’s beer bottles surrounding them like they were partaking in some kind of ritual. As you get closer, you see the single bottle laying on its side in the middle of the crowd. 

“What are they, twelve?” Peter whispers as Flash and Felicia kiss.

They don’t notice you two. They’re far too gone and enamored to see beyond themselves, and you’re grateful. Being the bystander looking in was better than watching Peter kiss someone else.

“Wanna go somewhere else?” he nudges.

You nod your head in silence and follow him like a lost puppy.

You two keep to the lakeshore and walk side by side until you can barely see the stray embers of the bonfire in the air. 

A mile away, you eventually reach the west pier. It’s unsoiled with beer and degeneracy, the moon purifying the fresh water and wood. The two of you sit on the dock, feet dangling in the chilling water. By the time the night completely glossed over, the alcohol had too.

“It’s so… Quiet,” you say and suddenly you fear your voice may disturb the stillness and ripple through the water. 

“I like it.”

“Just kind of eerie, ya know?”

“Don’t worry. I’ll scare the monsters away for you,” he teases.

Peter places one hand on your back and rubs small circles, a new type of warmth now rippling through you. 

Without realizing it, you began to mindlessly kick your feet through the lake, ripples after ripples reaching out to touch the earth beyond. The wrinkles of water pulsate. Your heart does the same with each circle of his hand.

“Should’ve got another beer before we left,” you eventually murmur.

“I’m not fun enough for you?”

I just don’t know what to do with myself.

“You’re less fun without your little cult,” you tell him. 

“I’m retiring,” he tells you.

“Oh, God forbid.”

“I’m tired,” he says. “Let me be tired.”

When he lays his head in your lap, you don’t move. You barely breathe.

You wish you could feel the calm, shudder and move on, exhale the hummingbird out of your chest, and be done with it. 

It’s heavier than you can manage. The ease and calm of him scares you. He makes a home in you so terribly easy, and you can barely touch him without feeling dizzy.

Peter sighs. “What am I going to do without you, Bug?”

You wish he didn’t say things like that.

You get out a shaky, “I don’t know.”

But you do know. Peter’s going to be okay without you. You’ll just be some girl he used to know and move on just fine. But you on the other hand? You don’t know. You don’t want to.

It aches.

I’m tired. Let me be tired, you beg the cruel universe.

It twinkles in response. Ripples right through you. 

Your hands are in his hair. You’re dizzy, but you do it anyway. There’s a soft moan coming from Peter so you play and pull and tug, letting all the anxiety leave your hands like kneading dough. You’re gentle because Peter is gentle. Rubbing your back. Stitching up a silly mistake. And even breaking your heart. He does it so gently, you don’t know if he has a cruel bone in his body. Even if he was cruel, you’re not sure if it would offend you.

He closes his eyes. You drag your nails against his temple and roam freely. The night sky reminds you of fireflies and popcorn. Slow breaths and wishes. You count the dimples on the moon. Little distractions to ground you, even now. 

The moment feels infinite. Almost infinite, like those almost kisses. So close, yet so fleeting. You stop trying to make it stay. You let it ripple through you.

You feel a little brave.

“Let’s go swimming,” he says, eyes closed. He can smell it on you— the braveness, you think.

Your hands freeze.“Now?”

“When else?”

“It’s cold.”

“I’ll keep you warm, Bug,” he says, this time with his brown eyes wide, open, and tempting. “Trust.”

He stands up and holds his hand out for you before you can protest. Whenever he mentions trust, it does something to you. The cut above your shoulder blade is trust scarred onto your body. Were you supposed to stray from your habits now? On the last day?

You open your mouth but then your hand is in his and he’s guiding you to the obsidian. 

He takes off his shirt and shorts, throwing them on the dock. You follow suit, and by the time you fold the tie dye shirt into a neat square, Peter’s already in, yelping, laughing, coaxing.

You shiver and when you’re in the water, you shiver some more. 

“I hate you.”

“I know.”

“Is this your big plan to murder me? Drown me and run back to everyone else and play spin the bottle?” you grumble, less than satisfied.

“Duh,” he smiles proudly.

You’re treading water, feet barely reaching the sand, while Peter stands tall, the moon illuminating his handsome face.

“Why didn’t you wanna play spin the bottle?” you say impulsively. 

It shocks both you and Peter.

“Did you?”

“I asked you first.”

His brows knit together. “I don’t want to see you kissing someone else.”

Your brain short circuits. A laugh coils in your stomach and you want to ask if Ashton Kutcher is going to come out of the woods with his crew and yell, Gotcha! It makes more sense than what you think he’s implying. 

“What do you mean by that?” you ask.

“What do you want it to mean?”

Your limbs suddenly burn from trying to stay afloat.

“Do you need me to show you, bug?” he says.

His hand is out in front of you again like a life raft. You let him take you, pull you in his gravity. Show me. You glide in the water until you can feel Peter’s breath on your face and your chest is heaving against his. Show me.

Peter wraps his arm around your lower back and your legs have nowhere else to go but wrapped around him. He tucks a strand of hair behind your ear.

“Still need me to show you?”

 Show me. Show me. Show me.

“I think so,” you say so delicately you’re not so sure he hears you, but then his lips are on yours and the sun comes back in the dead of night, blooming in your ribcage.

It happens fast. He doesn’t let you hesitate, retreat back like the scared creature you are. He knows you. He kisses like he knows you. He keeps his promise. I’ll keep you warm. 

Soft, tender, and close to loving. His lips overlap yours and your gripping onto his back like this moment could dissolve in this lake. He grips you right back like you’ll run. You could. You might.

He deepens the kiss, more want, more need, less tenderness. He sucks on your bottom lip and the strength to run right out of you. 

Your hands wander feverishly. From his back to the crook of his neck and then his hair.

Now that he has you here like this, it makes things more difficult. 

You feel like a firefly. This small little thing of shine and glow, jutting around in a mason jar with Peter’s name sharpied on the top. 

His lips linger for a second longer and then he pulls away, resting his forehead on yours.

“Bug,” Peter says.

“Hmm?”

“You’re going to call me, right?”

His lips move in slow motion.

“Right,” you say.

[jeankluv]

Sweet boy - Gojo Satoru

words: 4k

paring: Gojo x milf!reader

summary: You refused to spend your 33rd birthday alone after having been divorced for 4 months and who would have told you that going to a bar to spend your 33rd birthday would make you meet an attractive 25-year-old young man?

tags: p in the v, older woman x younger man, sub Gojo, sugar baby Gojo, sugar mommy reader, smut, oral sex (f), ridding, age difference

Jujutsu Kaisen materialist

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You looked at yourself in the mirror and sighed, it was your 33rd birthday and you were spending it alone. It hadn't been more than four months since you had caught your now ex-husband in bed with his secretary. It sounded too cliché, but that's how it was.

But the truth is that you didn't feel like celebrating anything, your family hadn't let it bother you after announcing that you were getting a divorce, according to them you were losing value and giving a bad image to the family. Disgusting, was what you thought when your father said that.

Since that day you had not visited him again and you had no intention of doing so either. You were independent, you owned your own business where you earned well and you had achieved everything on your own, without help from your parents.

But it felt lonely, being there, turning 33 without anyone to celebrate with. You shook your head and grabbed the red lipstick and painted your lips, you would go out and drink, even if it was alone.

You walked out of your apartment and with your head held high you walked out of your apartment, feeling the big city night crash against you.

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Gojo Satoru stretched out in his chair, feeling the alcohol coursing through his veins. He was with his college friends at a local bar, it was their third round but Satoru was still on his first beer, he really hated drinking but this was a special occasion, they were finally graduating from their master's degree.

“C’mon Gojo!” One of his classmates held him. “Let’s drink another beer.”

Satoru shook his head. “I’m good.” He tried to get the weight of his classmate from him. “I’m gonna get some fresh air.”

He heard his classmate complain, but he completely ignored him and continued walking without paying attention.

His blue gaze fell upon a figure at the bar drinking. Her hair fell over her bare back and in her hand was a glass of what looked like red wine. Satoru felt an electric shock go through his body and the saliva in his mouth dry.

His feet stopped moving and at that moment he wanted to get closer. Taking a breath and clenching his fists, he approached the figure.

“Hey…” He said, his voice coming a bit weak from his vocal cords.

You groaned and put the wine glass down on the table. “What?” You looked at him and first saw his blue eyes and then, his dimples.

He was cute, really pretty actually. He looked younger, probably in his twenties. Oh he would probably leave as soon as he saw that you were older than him, he probably thought you were a girl in her twenties and wanted to flirt with you but who would want to flirt with you now? At least that's what your ex told you, that you weren't attractive anymore.

“Saw you here alone drinking… and I approached you.” He spoke, now he seemed a bit less nervous. “Is this seat free?” He pointed to the seat next to you.

“Do whatever you want.” You said.

He sat next to you and asked for a drink. “So tell me, what are you doing here alone?”

“Ugh…” You said while swallowing the wine. “With how many women have you talked to? What was that phrase?”

The boy looked at you shocked and you noticed his Adam’s apple moving up and down. “I… well I have…” He protested. Cute.

You chuckled and moved your head. “You are so cute, you know? How old are you?” You rested your head on your hand, as you looked at him.

“25… will be 26 on December.” He smiled.

He was younger than you. “Cute…” You whispered. “I’m here celebrating my lonely birthday. An old woman like me is celebrating her birthday all alone.”

“Happy birthday!” He said with a smile. “And old?” He tilted his head.

“I’m 33.” You slightly smiled, waiting for the moment he would say that he was leaving.

“Oh…” He only whispered.

“It’s okay if you leave. I know I’m not…”

“I’m not leaving, I want to drink with you.” He said confidently, his eyes shining. You looked at him with surprise.

“Do whatever you want…” You paused yourself, realizing you didn’t his name.

“Satoru!” He said. “My name is Satoru.”

You told him your name. “Is nice to meet you Satoru.”

He said your name and you felt how something lit up in you. “And why would you be celebrating your birthday all alone.”

You smirked. “Life is awful, my ex cheated and no one sided with me during our divorce.” You drank again. “So here I am with my glass of wine and now a cute boy.” You looked at him, what was happening to you? You were flirting with that boy?

“I hope this is a nice company then.” He smiled. “And by the way your ex is an asshole, cheating on a beautiful woman like you. Such a loser.”

You bite your lip. Oh so he was interested in you? For real? That handsome boy was interested in you. And you? You were honestly interested in him too.

You smiled subtly and shook your head. “Maybe it’s the alcohol but why do I feel like you’re flirting with me?”

You could feel his shoulders tense and then a smile appeared. “Because I am.”

Your eyes widened slightly. “Why would you do that? With a woman like me when you have such young girls?” You whispered, showing a bit of vulnerability.

He came closer, Satoru found courage where he didn’t have any and brushed your lips with his thumb. “Because you’re the only one I’m interested in in this whole bar.”

A small gasp escaped from your lips and you looked away, embarrassed. “You drank too much, Satoru.” You said his name for the first time.

And that made Satoru not want to walk away, he wanted to hear you say his name like that again. Oh god, he wanted more of you. He was so enraptured by your beauty, your way of speaking, your movements, your lips moving.

“I didn’t…” He whispered. “And if I did you know what they say about drunk people right? They always tell the truth.” He said the last part in your ear.

“Gojo!!” A male voice sounded almost above the music of the bar. “We are waiting for you! We will be starting the drinking game.” A boy started shaking Satoru’s shoulders.

You saw how Satoru looked a bit annoyed, as if he didn’t like the idea of going back with his classmates. The eyes of Satoru’s eyes fell on you and then back on Satoru’s figure, who was still quiet.

“Oh!” He looked at you again. “Oh Gojo, sorry you were enjoying the night with this pretty lady?” The boy screamed.

“Yeah, now get out of here. You are annoying.” Satoru said.

“Why don’t you come with us and also play with us at the drinking game?” The boy ignored Satoru and spoke to you.

You looked at Satoru and smiled, it could be fun. “Yeah, why not?”

Satoru opened his eyes. “You don’t have to…”

“I want to…” You smirked. “C’mon sweet boy.” You whispered that part, and gently touched his arm.

Satoru felt his breath hitch and probably looked like a complete idiot as he watched you move your hips following his classmate to the table. He saw you sitting on the table with the rest of his classmates and how you made a sign for him to approach you.

Satoru blinked and wiped his damp hands on his pants before walking over to the table, sitting next to you. You smiled at him and Satoru felt like he melted around your fingertips.

He could hear his classmates laughing and speaking but his eyes were on you and just you, he couldn’t stop looking at you.

“Right Gojo?” He heard his name being called.

“Huh?” He turned and finally looked at his classmates.

“We are explaining to your lovely friend how the game goes.”

“Oh yeah…” He looked at you. “You don’t have to play.” He whispered to you.

“I want to…” You smiled, cockily and watched how he became shy.

“Yeah, right.” He swallowed.

The game started but Satoru's head was somewhere else, not in the game, his eyes were simply focused on you. The sound of his classmates' laughter filled the place and you would occasionally glance at him subtly.

You couldn't have imagined being there on your birthday night with a group of recent graduates while you played a drinking game and felt the gaze of that boy who had caught your attention so much.

“Okay! Now it’s Gojo’s turn!” One of the guys shouted pouring liquor on Gojo’s small glass.

You watched as Satoru blinked and he looked at the glass. An idea crossed your mind and you smiled. You stood up from your seat and took Satoru's glass, while your eyes were fixed on him.

“Are you going to be a good boy for me Satoru?” You whispered to him, touching his face.

Satoru gulped as he looked at you, you were driving him crazy. The world seemed to disappear, leaving just the two of you. Your soft hands touched his face and made him look up as you brought the glass to his lips.

Satoru's heart rate increased when his lips touched the glass. Your eyes continued to penetrate his, not blinking for a second. The alcohol passed down his throat, burning him. And he didn't know if it was because of the alcohol or your seductive gaze, that he felt his body begin to heat up.

You bite your lip as you saw as his cheeks were completely red and looking like a puppy at you. Once he drank the liquor you gently patted his face with a wide smile and sat back down to notice all of Satoru's classmates were staring at you with their mouths open.

“What?” You smiled cockily at his classmates.

“Oh please do that to me too!” One of the boys screamed.

“No! To me please.” Another one said.

You chuckled and shook your head. “I’m sorry guys but I will do that only to Satoru.” You rested your head on your hand.

Satoru's classmates made a whimper and you turned your eyes to Satoru who was still in a trance-like state. You wanted to laugh but you contain yourself from doing it. The game continued, as Satoru continued to ramble on in his not-so-pure thoughts about you. You continued to smile and stare at him, and poor Satoru's heart continued to race like a 16-year-old's.

“Well…” You stood up. “I think it is time for me to leave.” You looked at the boys and finally at Gojo and winked your eye, hoping he would get your signal.

“I will accompany you.” Satoru stood from the table as fast as the light.

You smiled and started walking with Satoru following you like your own shadow. The cold night hit your cheeks and you turned around to look at Satoru.

“So what pretty boy, is this a goodbye?”

Satoru swallowed and moved his hands. “Only… only if you want.”

You bite your lip. “You know…” You approached him and you placed your hands on his chest, feeling his heart beat beneath your palm. “I didn’t get any birthday present today…”

You saw Satoru gulp and get nervous. “Oh… that’s a shame…” He said with a sigh. “Is… is there anything I could do?” He said with a half smile.

“Yes…” You narrowed your eyes and your breaths began to mix before kissing his lips.

Your hands moved from his chest to his hair and you gently tugged on it as the kiss intensified. You separated from him trying to catch your breath.

“Let’s go to my apartment.” You held his hand and started walking searching for a taxi to take you both to your apartment.

As soon as you entered your apartment, the anticipation that had been boiling through your veins burst forth. You couldn't resist any longer and immediately pounced on Satoru, your need for him overtaking everything else. Your lips met his in a fervent kiss, tasting the sweetness of his candy-flavored lips.

The urgency of your movements seemed to take Satoru by surprise, his breathing ragged as your mouths moved against each other. His hands, shaking slightly with nervousness, found their way to your hips. Despite the passion between you, his touch was gentle, almost reverent, as if he feared you might break in his arms. Slowly, as if he savored every second of closeness, he pulled you closer, closing the space between your bodies until you could feel the heat of him penetrating your skin, as if he were leaving marks on your skin.

As your bodies pressed closer together, the heat between you became almost unbearable, the temperature of your room beginning to rise abruptly. Your fingers tangled in his white hair, drawing him deeper into the kiss as you demanded more from him. Satoru responded with a soft, submissive moan that made you shiver, his lips surrendering completely to your touch and your warmth.

His hands wandered from your hips to your sides, moving tentatively, almost as if asking for permission with every inch he traveled across your skin. He traced the curve of your waist with a feather-light touch, his fingers trembling slightly as he explored your body, his breathing growing shakier with each passing moment. His chest rose and fell against yours, the steady beat of his heart resonating in your own chest, but his submission made it all the more intoxicating.

You could feel Satoru’s restraint jerk and tremble beneath your lips. He was giving himself over to you completely. When he finally broke the kiss to catch his breath, his eyes met yours, filled with a vulnerable longing that made your heart race.

You could see the hunger reflected in Satoru’s gaze, tempered with a deep, trusting submission that only made you want him more. Wordlessly, you pulled him back to you, needing to feel him, to taste him, to take control of every part of him.

His hands moved more confidently now, but still with that same underlying hesitation, sliding down your back and then back down again, like he couldn’t get enough of the feeling of you beneath his fingers, but unsure if he could take more. Your own hands roamed over his body, tracing the hard lines of his muscles, feeling the way his body responded to your touch.

You could feel his heartbeat, fast and steady, pulsing beneath your fingertips as you ran them over the hard plains of his chest. His skin was warm, a stark contrast to the coolness of the night air that wafted just outside the window. As you moved closer, pressing your body fully against his, Satoru responded with a low, breathy moan that sent a shiver down your spine.

When his lips left yours, leaving a trail of soft, lingering kisses along your jaw and down your neck, you couldn’t suppress the soft moan that escaped your lips. The sound seemed to spur Satoru on, his kisses becoming more insistent, more demanding as he explored the curve of your neck.

Your hands found their way beneath his shirt, tracing the contours of his back, the muscles tensing beneath your touch as you pulled him even closer.

With a breathless whisper Satoru broke the silence of the room. “What do you want me to do ma’am?”

That nickname made your insides burn with desire, his hot and eager gaze only increased that desire. Your heart was completely racing, you wanted that boy to devour you, even if it was just for that night. You wanted it.

A sigh escaped your lips and you swallowed hard. “Get on your knees.” You told him with a smile.

Satoru obeyed without blinking an eye, without question, as he got on his knees in front of you. You smiled widely and sat down on the couch behind you. The short dress you were wearing was pushed up slightly to your thighs.

Satoru positioned himself between your legs, you could see his gaze filled with a mix of intensity mixed with tenderness. Satoru took a moment to admire you, his breath warm and uneven hitting your skin. Satoru placed soft kisses on your inner thigh, the kisses were slow and gentle as if Satoru wanted to take his time with you.

A moan escaped your lips as his fingers moved over your thong and his tongue traced a path from your entrance to the sensitive folds above. His gaze was fixed on you, looking at you with desire and hunger. You threw your head back as he began to suck, feeling it send shockwaves through your body.

His hands rested lightly on your hips, holding you in place as he continued his exploration. He seemed completely absorbed in pleasuring you, focused on knowing what made you moan in pleasure.

“Oh Satoru!” You moaned, tangling your fingers in his white hair, feeling your body getting closer to climax.

Each wave of pleasure that built up inside you was met with a new. As you reached the peak of pleasure, the sounds of your moans and gasps filled the room, and Satoru responded with ever-increasing fervor, concentrating solely on bringing you to the climax you were eagerly approaching. When you finally reached your peak, the sensation was all-encompassing, leaving you breathless and trembling.

Your chest rose and fell as you looked at Satoru, who was licking his lips while his blue eyes remained fixed on you. Satoru was trying to control himself, he felt agitated and the bulge in his pants was becoming unbearable. But, oh fuck, he would never have imagined himself in that situation and he loved it.

The temperature in the room rose considerably and at that moment the only sounds you could hear were your breathing, especially yours, which was still trying to find normality.

You were sticky, sweaty but you didn't want to finish yet. You gulped and gently touched Satoru's face. His gaze relaxed, reflecting tenderness and softness. You smiled before kissing him and lowering your hand to his crotch, causing a whimper to escape Satoru's lips. Smiling against his lips you continue moving your hand over his pants, feeling how hard he was.

“Get undress.” You said breaking the kiss and standing up from the sofa.

Satoru swallowed, following your movements. “Yes ma’am.”

There was that nickname again and the heat it provoked in you. Satoru began to undress and you could notice that toned torso that you had been able to touch lightly minutes ago.

You turned your face away and took off your dress, letting it fall to the floor. Turning back around, you saw that Satoru was now completely naked before you and your heart gave a little jump at the sight of him there, knowing that he would be completely yours.

“Sit on the couch and put this.” You said, throwing him a condom you were keeping on your purse.

Satoru shivered, he was loving this, being under your command, being yours. Nodding he sat down on the couch and you walked over to him, a smile forming on your face.

Satoru was completely hard, he knew that if you touched him he could cum. You gently sat on his thighs and touched his face again and gently moved closer to him.

“Are you going to be a good boy for me, Satoru?” You murmured against his lips.

Satoru felt like he was melting, like he was passing out. “Yes…”

“Yes what?” You smiled.

“Yes ma’am.” He said and you nodded before kissing him.

You gently grabbed his member, causing Satoru to moan and squeeze his eyes shut. “Open your eyes my sweet boy. I want you to watch me ride you.”

Satoru opened his eyes, which were glazed over and he swallowed as he watched you gently insert his member inside you.

You moaned as his cock was finally inside you, it was definitely bigger than your ex's and it filled you completely. Satoru moved his hand and grabbed your hip, you could feel his desperation crashing against your skin as he sought to get you to start moving.

You grabbed his hand and pulled it off your hip. “No hands sweet boy.”

Satoru pouted as he looked at you. “Please…” He moaned as you shifted slightly.

You chuckled and started to move your hips, causing both of you to moan at the pleasure you were feeling. Satoru fought the urge to touch you, to trace your curves, but he wanted to be a good boy to you and follow your desires.

Sweat began to run down your faces as you moved up and down his member, feeling every fiber of your skin tingle with each penetration. It had been too long since you had felt such pleasure, your ex had rarely or never made you feel the way that the 25-year-old was making you feel.

“Oh Satoru…” You said throwing your head backwards and closing your eyes.

“Please ma’am…” Satoru cried out.

“What sweet boy?” You looked at him without stopping.

“Let me… let me touch you more.” He murmured, with his voice trembling as he let the words out.

“Where?” You smirked.

“Everywhere.” He said with shiny eyes.

Your back bent and you brought your face closer to his, your breaths mingling and you gently bit his bottom lip. “You’ve been a good boy, haven’t you?” He nodded, his breath coming in ragged gasps. “Go ahead…”

Satoru gathered his courage and captured your lips in a passionate kiss and his hands rested on your hips, squeezing them and beginning to move them up and down, exploring your upper body.

You broke the kiss and threw your head backwards as Satoru started to devour your nipples. You moved your hands up to his hair and tangled your fingers in his hair and started pulling on them.

Satoru left your nipples and began to leave a trail of wet kisses on your neck and collarbone, while you continued to move on his member.

You don't know how much longer you kept moving, but you do know that when your second orgasm hit that night on your birthday, a moan escaped your throat and you hugged Satoru tightly, who kept moving inside you until he growled and reached his orgasm.

Satoru grabbed your body tightly and breathed heavily on your ear, trying to catch his breath after the orgasm he had had. You gently pulled away and got off of Satoru, grimacing at the mess you had made on the couch.

“I will have to call someone to clean that…” You murmured for yourself. “You want something to drink?” You looked at Satoru.

“I… yeah…” He stood up and took his clothes.

You looked at him. “What are you doing?”

“Oh… I will leave after drinking something.”

“Why?” You asked.

He looked at you. “I… well…” Satoru felt a bit embarrassed.

“Stay… we can have more fun.” You tilted your head.

Satoru nodded and oh boy, you did have so much fun. You had a few more rounds, in bed, in the shower, etc., you were really thankful you had gone out on your birthday night.

The next morning you woke up with Satoru's arms on your hips and you smiled. You gently moved Satoru until his blue eyes met yours. You had been thinking about something all night.

“Good morning…” You whispered with a smile.

“Good morning.” He said back with a smile revealing his dimples.

“Do you have a passport?” You asked him.

“I… yeah.”

“Good, then come with me to Italy.”

Satoru almost choked with his own saliva and opened his eyes. “To Italy? I don’t have money to…”

“Don’t worry.” You cut him off. “I will pay for everything.” You got closer to him. “So what sweet boy, you coming with me?”

Satoru scanned your face and swallowed. “Yeah… yeah ma’am.”

And there it was the nickname again, you could lose your whole mind for that boy. “Good.” You smiled before capturing his lips again.

[babydollslibrary]

LAVENDER HAZE — TREVOR ZEGRAS

trevor zegras x fem!reader

published: February 6th, 2023

summary: in which y/n has been dealing with hate from Trevor’s fans and journalists constantly speculating when they’ll get married.

specific lyrics: “i been under scrutiny. you handle it beautifully. all this shit is new to me.” and “all they keep asking me is if i’m gonna be your bride. the only kinda girl they see is a one night or a wife.”

not my gif

“y/n, when are you and Trevor gonna get married?” a reporter asks as i walk through the hallways of Honda Center, away from the Ducks dressing room and up towards the seating. i send a stiff smile their way and continue walking, effectively ignoring their question.

i’ve been dating Trevor since we were sixteen. five years together and you’d think i would be used to this by now, but it’s harder than one would think.

of course Trevor and i have talked about marriage, when you’ve been together this long, it’s inevitable that you’ve talked about it. but we’ve mutually decided to wait until it feels right for us. we’re only twenty-one after all. but it seems that it’s the only question i get asked nowadays.

sure, when i ran into reporters in the past, they may have asked me this question a couple times, but usually they just asked me what it was like to be high school sweethearts with an nhl player or what kind of things Trevor does at home to get ready for a game. but now it’s always ‘when are you guys getting married?’ and ‘y/n has Trevor proposed yet?’.

having been dating Trevor since his USNTDP days, it’s definitely different dealing with him now having real fans and him being approached at restaurants for pictures. i don’t mind it, but it can get to be a bit much when with his fame comes hate towards me. girls telling me i’m not good enough for him or that they could treat him better and whatnot. every photo i post on instagram has at least twenty comments saying such things.

**

i’m sat on the couch waiting for Trevor to get home from his game. i left right after it ended, Trevor texting me that he had to do interviews and that Jamie would drop him off at home.

—

@y/n11 just posted

Liked by @jackhughes and 14,628 others

@y/n11: the secret is out, i’m actually just @trevorzegras personal photographer 📸

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@user1: y/n using her boyfriend for clout again lol

@user2: alexa play treat you better by shawn mendes

@jackhughes: i’m stealing Louie next time i visit

@y/n11: good luck, Trevor might actually disown you as a friend if you try

@jackhughes:@y/n11 sounds like a win-win situation to me

@user3: how has it taken me months to realize she changed the number in her username to match Trevor’s jersey number? didn’t she used to be y/n46?

@user4: yeah, and before that she was y/n9 to match his usa number. they’re so cute 😭 i wonder if she’ll change her username to y/nzegras when they get married

@trevorzegras: and you’re the cutest photographer there ever was

@y/n11: i wanna smooch your face 💋💋

@_alexturcotte: whipped

@trevorzegras: @_alexturcotte i don’t see you with a girlfriend so which one of us is really winning here?

@user5: oh look, another post of Trevor. anyone wanna take a guess on what her next post will be? hint: it probably won’t her ugly ass

@_quinnhughes: miss you! come visit soon!

@trevorzegras: aww miss you too Huggy!

@_quinnhughes:@trevorzegras did it look like i tagged you? you can stay in Anaheim

@y/n11: miss you too Hugs! i’ll come with Trev on their next game there and root for you! 🧸

@user6: lmao she’s rooting for another guy? slut. bet she’s bounced around to all Trevor’s old teammates + Quinn

—

i scroll through the comments on my recent instagram post, seeing all the girls insulting me or saying i use Trevor for fame. am i not allowed to post my boyfriend anymore just because he’s in the NHL?

i didn’t realize i had tears welling in my eyes until one drops onto my screen. wiping it off, i hear the front door open and shut, Trevor arriving home. i listen to the mundane sounds of him slipping his shoes off and dropping his keys into the dish by the door before i hear his footsteps coming towards the living room. i hastily wipe away my tears and sniffle before he can see that i’ve been crying.

“hey, baby.” i say, my voice not quite recovered from my throat being closed up while i was crying, but Trevor doesn’t seem to notice. he takes the seat next to me on the couch, wrapping his arm around my shoulders and pulling me in so my head lays on his chest.

“hi, love. did you see that goal i made for you?” he asks and i chuckle.

“i did. you did amazing, babe. i’m so proud of you.” i tell him, wrapping my arm around his waist and squeezing him tighter to me. he drops a kiss to the top of my head and i can feel the smile on his lips.

“lemme see that pretty face.” he whispers, nudging my chin up with his hand. but when i look up at him, his smile drops. “hey, what happened? why were you crying?”

he rubs at my cheek with his thumb, tracing my puffy under eye with the tip of it. i shake my head slightly.

“it’s nothing, Trev.” he shakes his head and scowls.

“it’s not nothing if it made my girl cry. now tell me.” he says.

“it was just the comments on my instagram post. there were these girls—” i cut myself off, not knowing if i want to tell him what they said.

“hey, what? ‘there were these girls’ what?” he asks softly.

“these girls were commenting that i was using you for clout, and that i was ugly. and another one said that i’ve probably gotten with you and all your friends.” i whisper. his face contorts in disbelief before dropping into an angry frown.

“don’t listen to them.” he tells me. i open my mouth to rebut but he speaks again. “i’m serious, y/n. don’t pay them any attention. i know you’re not using me. i mean, you put up with my annoying, class clown ass in high school. if that doesn’t speak wonders then i don’t know what does.”

i giggle and land a light smack against his chest.

“i happen to have liked your annoying, class clown ass.” i tease.

“and i still wonder why.” he shrugs. “as for the other comments, you’re gorgeous, princess. you’re so beautiful. i still can’t believe i get to wake up every morning and see that pretty face. i can’t understand for the life of me, why you stay with me when you’re so out of my league. but i’m so grateful that you do, because i can’t imagine where i’d be and what my life would be like without you.”

i smile at his sweet words and lean up to kiss his lips.

“i love you.” i mumble against them.

“i love you too, babygirl.” he presses one more quick peck to my lips before pulling away “also, i know you’ve never been with any of my friends. i mean, c’mon, why would you want them when you can have this?”

he sweeps a hand down his body and i bark out a laugh. he smiles down at me, running his hand through my hair before he stops it at the back of my neck, pulling me in for another, deeper, kiss.

“you know, i’ve been thinking.” he tells me when he pulls back.

“oh that’s never good.” i say.

“ha ha ha.” he narrows his eyes at me, slipping the hand from the back of my neck in order to use it to shove my forehead, making me fall back onto the cushion of the couch behind me. “i was thinking, maybe next year?”

“maybe next year what?” i ask, face contorting in confusion.

“maybe next year we should get married.” he says. i pop back up into a sitting position quickly, nearly hitting my head against his. he chuckles and tucks a lock of hair behind my ear.

“Trevor Zegras did you just propose to me?” i ask, my tone incredulous. “on our couch?!”

“yeah, i guess i did.” he says. “what do you say? you wanna be my wife?”

“i could hit you right now.” i tell him.

“so, it that a no?” he asks, an eyebrow raised in questioning. i shuffle onto his lap, straddling him and grabbing his face in my hands.

“there is nothing in this world that i want more than to be your wife.” i whisper, leaning my forehead against his.

“oh thank god.” he sighs. he sticks his hand in his pocket, shuffling around in it before pulling his hand back out in a fist. he opens his fist to reveal a ring box. “because i’ve had this ring since we were eighteen.”

tears sting my eyes, my heart leaping in my chest as i pull my head back from his. he opens the box, showing off a beautiful white gold ring with a pear cut diamond and a twisted halo design.

“since we were eighteen?” i ask. “but that’s the year that we were fighting all the time.”

“yeah, and you stayed. despite all the stupid arguments, you still made sure we never went to bed angry at each other, and you stuck by my side.” he takes the ring out of the box, slipping it onto my finger before pressing a kiss to my knuckles.

“i love you so much.” i whisper before capturing his lips with mine. he pulls back a second later to mumble out his own ‘i love you’ before he resumes kissing me.

but then a thought pops into my head and i pull away, furrowing my brows at him.

“why did you have the ring in your pocket right now?” i ask him.

“well i had this whole plan that i was gonna bring you out on the ice before warm ups and ask you there but, when it came down to it, it didn’t feel right. i wanted the right moment. and now felt right.”

—

@y/n11 just posted

Liked by @colecaufield and 43,793 others

@y/n11: forever with you sounds pretty great @trevorzegras

comments on this post have been limited.

@trevorzegras: i’m pretty damn lucky that i’ll get to call you my wife 🤍

@jackhughes: finally! i was beginning to think he would never use that damn ring! congrats guys

@y/n11: you knew about the ring?!

@jackhughes:@y/n11 who do you think helped him pick it out?

@colecaufield: congrats you guys! can’t wait to be the best man

@jackhughes: think again bud, i’m gonna be the best man

@_alexturcotte:@jackhughes i think we all know that I’M gonna be the best man because Trevor likes me best

@y/n11:@jackhughes @_alexturcotte thank you cole! and i hate to be the bearer of bad news but the best man will definitely be Louie … gotta go 🏃‍♀️

@_quinnhughes: congratulations! so happy for you two!

@y/n11: thank you Huggy! get ready to go suit shopping because i can’t imagine anyone else being my man of honor

@lhughes_06: damn, Z beat me to it. i was gonna ask you this summer at the lake house! happy for you though 🥲😪

@y/n11: aww sorry Moosey! keep an eye out just in case forever doesn’t work out

@griffinzegras: can’t wait for you to officially be my sister!

@y/n11: aww you’ve been my baby brother for 5 years but now it’ll be legally true! can’t wait to boss you around!

@griffinzegras:@y/n11 i take it back @trevorzegras any way that you wanna take her back to the pound?

@trevorzegras:@griffinzegras nah, i like this one. i’mma keep her

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[pink-princess-pussy-pop]

Behavioral Lessons - King Ben x Reader

Summary: You push Ben's buttons too far

Words: 5.3K

Inspired by a section from my Dating Ben Would Include. Ben didn't lose his beard or fangs in this guys. He just didnt. So with that, he might just have some other… beast like qualities. (im so sorry i went rouge)

Link to photo of the dress, but if you hate it, just ignore when the dress is described and picture whatever you want to be wearing!

Warnings: Smut, uhhhh, thigh riding, a bit of edging, choking bro im not well at ALL for doing this to poor mitchell, not proofed

Edit: oh god. yall this is so dirty. i didnt mean to make ben a degrader but here we are... I’m sorry if I ruin this franchise for you rip i ruined it for myself

You had to take matters into your own hands. You hadn't seen Ben in weeks. And when you had, it wasn't for more than a few minutes when you passed each other in the corridors of the castle. He hadn't even been returning to your shared room at night, sleeping in his office instead. You were growing restless without your fiancé.

Since you were both twenty-one, your wedding was coming up. With the nearing celebrations on top of his usual king duties, Ben had been more stressed than usual, which is why you hadn't seen him recently.

So naturally, you just had to take matters into your own hands. You knew the way to help your fiancé was to help him relieve his stress, and you knew just how to push him to get there.

Every Friday night, you sat down with Ben and his parents for dinner. But this Friday was special. Not only were his parents going to be there, but so were your friends. It was the final Friday before your wedding and it would be the most you've seen of him in weeks so you were looking forward to it. And what was to come afterward.

...

You kept the dress hidden for months. It was strapless and fell mid-thigh. The body of the dress was a pale yellow, the outer layer was a sparkly floral pink fabric, and the bodice had tiny bows up the front. Evie had designed it for you and was standing in front of you now.

"Oh. My. God. I don't think I've ever made anything better. You look incredible. Ben is gonna go craaaa-zyyyyy." She was gushing over you, shoving a pair of gold shoes into your hands. "Now put these on, and then let's get to that dinner.

You looked at yourself in the mirror absolutely mesmerized at your reflection. Your legs looked incredibly long with the length of the dress paired with the heels. Dizzy had so graciously styled your hair, a simple updo, but with your small tiara on your head, it was perfect. You smiled at yourself, bringing your hand to your neck where a small, gold, necklace with the letter "B" sat.

...

You were giddy with anticipation, ready to see Ben, ready for him to see you. You entered the large dining hall, filled with your friends from the Isle and Auradon. Belle was at your side immediately, looking beautiful as always.

"Y/N! Sweetie! You look lovely!" The small woman hugged you. "I am so looking forward to you and Ben's wedding next week. It is going to be beautiful!" You smiled at her.

"Thank you! I'm excited about it too. Ben is a wonderful man. I’m very lucky to be marrying him." Then, Lumiere announced that dinner had been served and as you turned to go to your seat, Ben was behind you.

"Hi." He was giving you the smile that made your stomach flutter with butterflies. His hands were on your waist almost instantly, bringing your body closer to his. He looked perfect, would you expect anything different? The blue suit with the golden crown was a look you'd never get tired of.

"Hello." You smiled back at him as he kissed you for the first time in weeks. You broke it first, knowing that people were most definitely watching you and that you needed to leave him wanting more.

As you walked to your places at the table, Ben whispered in your ear...

"You look incredible, Y/n." You flushed at the compliment and at the way his voice sounded when he said your name.

You sit next to him, the chairs closer together than normal with the new amount of people. The plan was in full motion now.

The feast was grand, as it usually was, but before it began, Ben rose to give a toast.

"Thank you all for joining Y/N and me," He gestured for you to stand and join him. His arm wrapped around you instantly. "In our final feast before our wedding." He turned to you, his beautiful smile returning again. "I can't speak for my beautiful fiancé, but I am so happy that our closest friends and family were able to join us tonight." You spoke before he could go on.

"I am also very happy you are here!" The hall erupted in a chorus of laughs and Ben squeezed your side.

"I'm so honored to be marrying such a wonderful person. I cannot wait to share the rest of my life with you.” You smiled at him as he bent down to press a soft kiss to your lips. He whispers, "I love you." and then he pulls away to continue. “Alright, I’m sure you all want to eat, so I won't bore you with my love speech any longer."

...

As everyone else ate, you counted the minutes until you could begin your plan. You didn't want to start it too early or too late. You had to wait for the right time. Ben was such an attentive fiancé that he had noticed your behavior.

"Honey?" You were startled at his voice in your ear again. "Are you feeling ok?" You turned to him, noticing that he was looking down at your chest, blushing when he looked back up. You shifted at the sight of his tongue running over the tips of his fangs.

Now. It was time for your plan.

You set your hand on his upper thigh, leaning over to whisper into his ear.

"I guess I'm just hungry for something else..." You ran your hand up further before you were stopped by him. You looked down at his hand grasping your wrist, right above the seam of his pants.

"Y/N." His usually sweet voice was stern. You set your face with a smirk but innocent eyes, looking up at him. His jaw was clenched but you could tell you were getting somewhere. His skin was dusted pink and his pupils had dilated. "What are you doing?" You reached your fingers to brush against the fabric of his pants and he snarled, his grip on your wrist tightening.

"Ben!" His father interrupted and he swallowed, squeezing your wrist once more.

“Stop if you know what’s good for you.” His words were low and then he turned to his father who was across the table. You took this moment to shake yourself from him, turning to the former king, before placing your hand back onto his pants.

Ben jerked, trying to keep his composure in front of his parents and friends, but how could he when you were teasing him like this? In order to not draw attention to himself, he kept both hands on the table.

"Son, are you ok?" Ben eyed you, giving you a glare that only spurred you on further. He cleared his throat before speaking.

"I'm fine." He continued his conversation with his father, talking about God knows what, as you continued to tease him. You were half listening to Ben and Adam and the other half of your brain was only thinking of making Ben as flustered as possible, so you ran your hand over the growing tent in his suit pants. You could tell he was struggling to maintain his composure, his breathing had gone uneven, his face was red, and he kept glancing at the big grandfather clock behind his father's chair.

You smiled, gave his clothed member a squeeze, and withdrew your hand, reaching for a large piece of chocolate cake. You looked over at Ben, his eyes narrowed on you as you brought a bite to your mouth. His slip in composure was glorious and you winked at him as you brought a bite of cake to your lips.

You almost choked on the cake as his hand slid onto your thigh, just past your dress, fingers skimming the soft lace of your underwear, already wet from your actions and your thoughts of the night to come.

"So needy that you've resulted to disobeying your King? How pathetic." His lips grazed over the skin under your ear before he leaned back to look at you.

Your thighs squeezed against his hand involuntarily and it was his turn to smirk. He regained his composure, returning to “normal” Ben, now free from your teasing.

You, however could barely eat your dessert with his hand pressed between your legs.

“Regretting our actions are we?” He whispered to you as his engagement ring slid over your core. You covered the gasp with a cough. “That’s what I thought.”

...

The second dinner had ended, Ben's arm was around your waist. As the two of you neared the doors of the large hall, his name was called.

His dad and Lumiere were behind you.

"Your Majesty, your father and I have been talking and there are a few things we wanted to go over for palace security during the ceremony. If you come with us, it won't take very long." Ben's face was completely normal as he gave Lumiere a nod before turning to face you.

He plastered on his King Ben smile, brushing his hand against your cheek, bringing your lips to his, but he didn't kiss you.

"I hope you know, I'm not going to be nice tonight." His lips were on yours for mere seconds before he stepped back, running his tongue over his fangs once again. Then, he turned back to Adam and Lumiere, leaving you in the dining hall, thoughts running wild about what was to happen to you that night.

...

You called Evie as soon as you got back to your and Ben's bedroom.

"Do I keep the dress on? Or do I wear something else?" You were frantic, walking around the closet, not knowing what to do.

"Girl! Calm down!" You had told her what had happened and she was so excited she practically screamed. "If I were you, I would put on one of his dress shirts. He won't be expecting it when he comes in to punish-"

"Oh my GOD, EVIE!" The laughter on the phone was enough to make you roll your eyes. "Thanks for your help." You grumbled.

"Let me know how it goes!" Before you could reply, she hung up. You set your phone down and grabbed one of Ben's white dress shirts along with a simple, white lace lingerie set from a drawer.

Slipping the dress off, you carefully put it on a hanger and set it in your closet. You slid the shirt on, buttoning it up, leaving it open just enough to see the bra you had just put on. You began to take out your hair, setting the crown down on your vanity counter, and removing the pins holding the updo in place. Finally, you applied a bit of lipgloss and a spritz or two of Ben's favorite perfume before climbing onto your shared king-sized bed.

...

Thirteen minutes later, not that you had counted, the bedroom door burst open, and in walked your fiancé. His eyes locked on your body as he removed his suit jacket. You knew he was waiting for you to look at him, so you obliged, looking up from the random book you had picked up, you really weren't reading it anyway. He was glaring at you as his hand loosened his tie and removed it. You tried your best to look at him with the most innocent eyes you could and he chuckled.

You watched as he unbuttoned the first two buttons of the white shirt and rolled the sleeves up to his forearms. When you looked back into his eyes, they were almost black.

"Did you have a good time at the dinner, my dear? Did you enjoy yourself?" His hands were placed on the bed so he was leaning down. His tone was condescending, which sent shivers down your spine. He was always so sincere. This new side to Ben was intoxicating.

“Answer your King when he speaks to you.”

If he noticed your eyes widening in shock, he didn’t acknowledge it. He was unmoving, his eyes challenging you, taunting you.

“I’m not going to ask again.” You didn’t know how to respond, so you nodded.

Ben chuckled again, his fangs on display. Any sight of them made your heart race and he knew it.

“No, honey. Use your words.” His voice lowered. “Or do you want to disobey me again?”

“Yes, I enjoyed dinner.” Your voice was small but you held your ground, not breaking eye contact. You challenged him back. “Did you enjoy dinner, Ben?” A dark look crossed his face.

“Why don’t you try saying that again, using my correct title?” You had to stop yourself from rolling your eyes, but you had to admit, you liked this side of him.

“Did you enjoy yourself tonight…” You sat up from the headboard, leaning towards him, and bowed your head. Then, looking up at him through your lashes added, “…my King?”

His eyes narrowed again and his hands wrapped around your ankles, tugging you to the end of the bed. He settled his knee between your legs, brushing your clothed core on purpose, but not acknowledging it. His hands settled by your head and he hovered over you.

“No.” He dug his knee into you harder and you threw your head back, exposing your neck to him as you moaned. “No, I didn’t.” You felt his finger slide down the column of your throat before hooking itself around your necklace laced with his initial. He leaned down, mouth hovering over the pulse point in your neck. “My bratty fiancé couldn’t keep her hands to herself.”

His teeth ran down your neck and goosebumps erupted at the sharpness of the canines. “You haven’t touched your bratty fiancé in weeks.” He tugged on your necklace and your eyes found his again.

“Do you want me to fuck you?”

Now that was a surprise.

Though he got stressed fairly often, he never used vulgar language. You had heard him say “damnit” once after losing a Tourney game in high school, but that was it.

Suddenly, you felt your body flush at his outburst. You didn’t reply, too shocked to say anything.

Ben smiled, but it wasn’t his good King Benjamin smile.

This smile was positively wicked.

“I believe I asked you a question, Y/N.” The fingers hooked on the chain around your neck now rested softly on your throat.

Holy shit.

“Yes.” The words were almost inaudible.

“M’sorry… what was that?”

“Yes.” You spoke clearly now.

He snickered.

“That’s now how you properly answer a question, now is it? Let me ask again.” His fingers tightened slightly. “Do you want your King to fuck you?” The word rolled off of his tongue like honey and your hips rolled into his knee.

“Yes, I want you to…” His eyebrow went up. “…fuck me.” His fingers withdrew from your throat.

���Hmm.” Suddenly he was standing up, leaving you on the bed, catching your breath. “I don’t think you’ve earned it.”

You watched with wide eyes as he sat down at your vainity in the corner of the room. He looked so casually regal. His crown, the unbuttoned shirt, his crisp blue slacks. But there was some other air about him that was making you crumble in his hands. The way he was man spreading, his long legs awaiting as your own throne. His beard and sharp fangs you were aching to feel between your thighs. Your toes curled at the thought.

“You’re thinking about it now, aren’t you honey?” The mean tone from before had returned. “You’re thinking about me fucking you?” Your face flushed so much you were sure it went down your whole body. You quickly realized he’d asked you another question.

“Y-Yes. I am thinking about that.” Your snarkiness from before was long-gone. He gave you another wicked smile. His picked up your crown, which was much smaller than his since your coronation would happen after the wedding.

“Well, are you going to sit there all night or are you going to come finish what you started at dinner?” You got up from the bed immediately crossing to where he sat. His fingers wrapped around your necklace again, tugging you to his level. Your knees hit the floor, hands on his thighs while he brushes your hair from your face. He tilts your chin up to meet your eyes.

His hand retracts while he takes you in. On your knees in front of him, wearing one of his shirts and dear God, the white lace of your bra peeking out at him was making his head spin.

No longer having self-restraint, Ben’s lips lock on yours. You moan into his mouth as his hands wrap around your torso, pulling you to sit in his lap. He growls into the kiss as you grind your hips into his.

Finally. You thought to yourself. Ben’s control over his respectful manner had cracked a little but your goal was to break through it completely. And you knew by his bruising grip on your hips that you were on the right track.

Then suddenly, Ben wasn’t touching you anymore. Your body was left heaving on top of his while he leaned back in the chair, resting his elbows on the armrests.

“Go on.” You stated wide-eyed at him. “I’m not going to do all the work here, honey.” Your face flushed as you looked to his crotch, the tented fabric strained. “You did this…” His hand grabbed yours, setting it back onto his pants. “…so do something about it.”

Slowly, you began to move your fingers and Ben’s eyes narrowed.

“You and I both know you can do better than that.” His hand found it’s way back up to your throat. “Don’t you want to please your King?”

Dear GOD where had this side of him come from? He shifted the slightest bit so his pants ran against you.

“Ben!” Your eyes squeezed shut, brain foggy with him.

“Are you really making me wait?” You shook your head, avoiding his gaze as yours shifted to where your shaking hands were now trying to undo his belt buckle.

As you worked to free him from his pants, Ben’s hands found their way back to your hips, slowly pushing up the fabric of his dress shirt so he could see what was lying underneath.

His mouth almost watered as the white lace was brought into view. He licked his lips at what the fabric was trying in vain at hiding.

Ben had to remind himself that you were not being rewarded now. That you’d disobeyed him at dinner and now was not the time to be relishing in how lovely you were.

He was brought out of his thoughts as your hand slid into his boxers.

He threw his head back and muttered a barely audible,

“Fuck.”

As your fingers wrapped around him, timidly moving up and down.

He looked at you, so focused on what you were doing, so desperate to make him feel good, needing to hear his words of praise. Ben guided you to straddle one leg as he began to rock his hips into your hand.

You were so trained on pleasing your fiancé, that you hadn’t even noticed that you’d begun grinding on his thigh.

Ben had noticed. He watched as your breathing became more rapid and how your strokes became less careful. You looked up, meeting his gaze, sucking in a breath at the primal look in his eyes.

His eyes flashed with pleasure as your thumb ran over the tip of his cock. His fingers stopped your hips and he said,

“Stop.” Right as you were about to come. You did as you were told but you couldn’t help the whine that escaped at the lack of sensation.

Ben rolled his eyes, the hands on your hips forcing you to grind into his leg once again. You moan, tossing your head back to avoid looking at him. The fucker was edging you.

“So Goddamn needy.” His hot touch on your skin was gone and you had to steady your breathing before looking at him again.

Ben had begun to unbutton the rest of your shirt, pushing it off of your shoulders once it was fully undone. He shamelessly raked his eyes over your body, grinning that evil grin as he did so.

Then, his hands were under your bottom, picking you up before setting you down on the bed.

“Are you going to behave now?” The dampening of your underwear at his words is embarrassing. Ben’s thumbs skim over your abdomen, right on the waistband of your underwear. Ben doesn’t break eye contact with you, smiling once again. He looks hot as hell, his fangs and the beard along with his crown.

Was he going to fuck you while wearing his crown? God you hoped so.

“Honey?” Ben lowered to his knees, fingers now on the sides of the lace fabric. You instinctively close your legs but Ben’s strong hands are there instantly, forcing them back open.

Embarrassment floods your system as you watch him look down, a shit-eating grin appearing on his face before his eyes return to yours.

“Keep them open.” His fingers dance dangerously close to the damp lace. “Answer my question, please.”

He’s so close that you can feel his breath fanning your core.

“Yes, Ben. Fuck! I’ll behave.” He kisses your inner thighs which are now practically shaking in his grasp. His mouth moves to your hips, right where your waistband is.

“Do you want to know a secret?”

“What?” You sound breathless.

He looks directly into your eyes.

“I’ve been able to smell you this entire time.”

You’re too late to react as Ben rips through the white lace with his teeth. His hands are keeping your thighs to the side and he looks at you for a moment: A shaking little mess before him, your cunt dripping and clenching around nothing. You watch as he smiles again, bracing yourself for the contact of his tongue, lips, and teeth.

His tongue licks your glistening cunt from the bottom up twice and your hand clamps over your mouth when his lips wrap around your aching clit.

And then.

Oh, fuck.

You’d forgotten about his facial hair.

The delicious roughness contrasting with his sweet mouth made the pleasure skyrocket.

Ben loved the taste of you. He was never able to get enough. So anytime he went down on you, he took all he could get. He moaned at the taste of you, the vibrations going straight through you.

Your hips lifted off of the bed as one of his hands moved off of your thigh and a thumb pressed hard against your swollen clit. At the same time, Ben bit into the soft skin of your thighs, marking his territory. He repeated his actions on the other side, now rolling your clit between his fingers.

If you weren’t covering your mouth, you were sure the whole castle would be able to hear you.

Ben’s mouth returned and you let out a scream as his teeth bit your clit gently. He let his tongue swirl around it as his thumb ran down your slit, parting your folds, exposing more of you to the cool air. He moved the slightest bit and the roughness of his mustache brushed against your clit, sending you into your awaiting orgasm.

Ben continued devouring you through it, eating you out like a beast, already wanting to get another one out of you like this. He looked up at you, realizing he hadn’t been able to hear you, eyes narrowing once again at the hand over your mouth. Your hips rocked again as he slid his middle finger into you easily but then he stopped all of his actions.

Your grown was muffled but one look from Ben and your hand fell to the side.

“Don’t tell me you’re afraid of being too loud…” his finger curled inside you and you let out a loud moan, a blush settling over your cheeks instantly. “…because I don’t care if anyone hears. They’ll know how good the king is fucking you, right?” His mouth was on yours again, finger pushing in and out of you slowly. Your hips jerk up and you moan into his mouth, making him smile into yours.

Ben pulls away, making you groan in frustration. As you sit up on your elbows, you watch as Ben steps away from the bed to undress and you know he's doing it slowly on purpose.

"Ben-"

“Shut up. You brought this on yourself, honey.”

Once again, your cheeks heat. His harsh glare makes your heart pound.

His eyes tear away from yours as he finishes undressing. Yours close, waiting for what's next half in anxiousness, half in eagerness. His warm hand on your knee snaps you out of your thoughts.

His tongue runs over his bottom lip before he brings it between his teeth. He pulls your body down and steps between your legs. Ben's hand settles on your neck again, smirking at the feeling of your racing pulse.

"Don't tell me you're nervous, sweetheart." You take a deep breath before looking into his eyes with a smirk of your own.

"Why would I be nervous if this is what I wanted?" His jaw sets as the smirk disappears.

And then under his breath,

"Such a fucking brat." Before his hand fully wraps around your throat as he brings his lips to yours.

Your hands reach up to wrap around his shoulders pulling him down on top of you.

You pull away when Ben bites your lip, tasting blood.

"Benjamin!"

His smirk is back.

"Oh, so you're using my full name now. I thought this is what you wanted." You glare at him as you run your tongue along the bite. His head dips as he kisses you again, sucking on your bottom lip. You are so enthralled with the feeling of his mouth on yours, you don't register what else he is doing until you feel the head of his cock pushing into you.

You act on instinct, pushing your hips into him but he pulls away.

"Don't be impatient. That stunt you played at dinner was cute and all but-"

"You thought it was cute?" You pout. "I thought you were going to punish me for it, my King."

With that, Ben pushes into you the rest of the way, wrapping his hand around your throat again, silencing any moan trying to escape.

"You were saying?" Your pelvic muscles clench around him which spurs him on further. "What's the matter, my love?" He pulls out of you and puts the slightest bit of pressure on your throat. "You want me to punish you?" He leans in to kiss you again but stops centimeters from your lips. "You asked for it."

Ben kisses you once again, hands now on your hip bones as his hips roll into yours at a brutal pace. Your hands wrap around the back of his neck, pulling him closer to you as he does the dirty work.

Your nails dig into his skin as you near your orgasm, pulling away from his lips as you struggle to catch your breath. Then suddenly, Ben stills inside of you and laughs as you whine.

"Would you like me to keep going?" You nod, although you know he will continue to fuck with you. "Really?" His lips find your neck again, kissing the spot beneath your ear. He grins against your skin at your whine. "Alright."

Ben begins to move ever-so-slowly. Annoyed, you begin to roll your hips into his but he is quick to stop you. His hands press your hips deep into the bed, forcing your movements to stop.

"Ben..." You trail off, eyes closing as Ben continues. He leans back, his beautiful smile gracing his face.

He gradually picks up speed, every movement into you brings you closer to the brink but Ben knows your body well. He's memorized your body and the ways it reacts to his. He knows that when you throw your head backward and try to cover your mouth to subdue the noises you're making that you're close. That's when he knows to stop.

"Fuck, Ben, please." He leans over you again, his beautiful smile still plastered on his beautiful face.

"Please what?" He has the audacity to rub soothing circles on your skin.

"Damnnit Ben." Your eyes are squeezed shut, unable to look him in the eyes. Ben leans over more, his lips brushing against yours.

"Please what, honey?" Your eyes open and narrow at him.

"I already asked Ben..." He chuckles.

"And I'm asking again." He raises his eyebrows. "Now unless you'd like me to," his hips roll again, "continue with your punishment, I suggest you use your words and answer my question."

"Benjamin," You pause briefly, waiting to see if he will stop you and make you use his title, but he doesn't. "Please, please, fuck me."

Ben smirks, making him impossibly more attractive.

"That's all you had to say." His hands grab your thighs, wrapping them around his waist before turning his smirk into a grin.

He moves again and it is glorious. Ben does all the work, which is fine for you because you're too enthralled with the pleasure to do anything about it. His hands tighten on your legs and pull you to him, bringing your bodies impossibly closer. His pace is brutal, fingers most definitely leaving bruises in their wake.

Instead of covering your mouth, your hands wander up his arms and pull him down to you again before resting on his broad shoulders. His crown glints in the light and your eyes roll at the sight. His hand leaves your thigh and reaches between your bodies to pinch your clit. To cover your moan, you pull his lips to yours, releasing it into his mouth. Ben smiles in return, rolling your clit between his fingers.

You break the kiss, gasping for air as your head is thrown back, He takes the opportunity to attack your neck again, his teeth gently biting at the soft skin.

His hips slam into yours once again and it pushes you over the edge. Your mouth opens in a silent scream, your body going limp in his arms.

Ben follows not far behind, groaning into your neck.

"Fuck."

After the two of you calm down, he pushes himself back, looking down at you.

"I'm sorry if I went a little overboard. I just-"

"Ben..."

"No seriously I-" You cut him off.

"Benjamin shut up." His eyes widen. You look up at him, a small smile on your lips. He watches with wide eyes as you push yourself up to sit under him. His smirk returns as you wince at the soreness he left you.

"Did you just tell me to-" You cut him off with a kiss, hands pulling his face to yours.

You break away from him and his eyes are wide.

"Ben, if you had gone overboard I would have told you." You kiss him again. "Besides, it's what I wanted." His eyes narrow.

"What?" You giggle, squishing his cheeks together before his hands wrap around your wrists, pulling your hands down. "Y/N, what did you just say?" You fall back onto the bed, laughing.

"I had this whole thing planned out, Bennie Boo." His eyes roll at his ex-girlfriend's nickname for him. "You were stressed and we hadn't..."

"Fucked?" He finishes for you.

"...in weeks, so I put this plan together to help you relieve your stress and so we could..." It's Ben's turn to grin.

"Say it."

"Make me."

His smile drops.

"Oh, you're asking for it now, sweetie." His lips were on yours before you could even think of a clever response.

I'M BACK!!!

bro ive literally been working on this for like 3 months.

:) ENJOY

[bvnniz]

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ bunny!reader x vox , bunny!reader & carmilla carmine

𝜗𝜚 warnings: forbidden love, bunny’s soul is owned by carmilla, more fluff then anything, idk how aging works in hell but bunny ages like a normal person does, same thing with carmilla’s daughters

A/N: i feel as though this story could have a part 2 ( which would probably include smut ngl . . . ) so please comment & tell me if that’s something you guys would want !!

flashback, twenty years ago when bunny first appeared in hell

carmilla and her daughters had been on a walk when they heard a couple of sniffles coming from an alleyway, clara immediately let go of her moms hand and went running towards the sound.

“clara!” carmilla yelled before following with odette, that’s when they finally found the source of the sniffles when they saw little five year old you crying in the alleyway.

“bunny!” clara practically yelled while pointing at you. “indeed she is, where are your parents, sweetheart?” that just made your sobbing start again “they aren’t here.”

carmilla had taken pity on you, mostly due to the fact her daughters begged for a bunny sister. so she took you in and made you apart of her family.

twenty years later, four months before next extermination

“vox, valentino. glad to see all of the vee’s finally have decided our overlord meetings aren’t good enough for them.” carmilla spoke, clearly annoyed causing you to try not to let out a laugh

vox wanted to state he was purely only there for you. truth was you and vox met a couple months ago, went on a couple dates and have been dating since. except no one knows, especially carmilla.

she was your mom for the past twenty years and if there’s one thing she hated more than anything it was the vee’s. she didn’t even want you coming to the meeting because she was told all three vee’s were planning on attending.

your mother glared at the three before turning to you signaling for you to make your exit, she knew odette & clara would be fine if something were to happen but you were always very sensitive, crying at the littlest things. she wasn’t making you leave to be mean, she meant it to be so you didn’t get upset over yelling.

you nodded before leaving the board room and heading to your room. vox making some excuse which got him out of staying before he materialized in your room.

“voxxy!” you practically screamed before pulling him into a hug. “hi princess.” he smiled back at you. “how’d you get here without my mother noticing?”

he just shook his head in response “i barely see you anymore you really think i’m gonna let her try to get me from seeing my little bunny less than i already do?” he pulled you into a kiss which lasted about a minute before you pulled away “what if my mother comes in?”

he sighed before sitting on your bed “you know valentino and velvette are gonna make that meeting way longer than it needs to be.” you nodded before sitting on his lap and pulling him into a kiss.

the kiss turned more heated after a while, vox laying down with you still on top of him, you grinding against him.

although it only lasted a little while longer before your mother walked in “sweethe- what the hell?!” you had immediately pushed yourself off vox standing in front of your bed “mom, it’s not what it looks like i swear!”

“really because it looks like this tv head has decided to leave an important meeting to try and fuck my daughter.” you just stared at the ground for a second before replying “okay so it is what it looks like . . . but he’s fine mom! i swear! we’ve been dating for months and he hasn’t even done anything bad! we haven’t even actually had sex yet!”

carmilla took a deep breath before continuing “you two have been dating and you kept this from me? you know how i feel about lies.” you tried to reply but you couldn’t find the words, you just stared at the ground more, trying to keep your tears in

“carmilla. do not take this out on her. i asked her out, i only even came to this stupid meeting so i could see her. i love this little bunny more than any stupid sinner could. i know you don’t like me and i know you don’t like me dating your daughter more but i love her and i’m pretty sure she loves me. so please don’t make her stop talking to me or something.” you looked back at vox, him meeting your gaze with a smile

“do you love him?” you turned to your mom and nodded “more than anything.” she nodded back “i’ll allow it, but you so much as hurt her and you will be unplugged.” with that she left.

you immediately turned back to vox before climbing back on his lap “you got her approval!” you cheered before peppering his screen with kisses causing him to chuckle. “we got the approval, bunny.”

[givethemsmut]

Cody Rhodes x Reader

Made of Gold | Chapter Four

Trigger Warning

- Mention of abortion (not how you think, prob why I hate to give trigger warnings)

C O D Y ‘ S P O V

I was riding the high of being the first man between her legs, still wearing her orgasm on my cock when I yanked the door open enough to see who was standing there.

A middle aged man stood there, dark wild eyes, when his shrill voice hit my eardrums. “Where is my daughter? I know she’s here.”

Barging past the door I gripped the blanket hanging low on my waist, securing it from exposing myself. I was in a state of shock and the urge to fight ignited from the bottom of me like a brush fire. “Excuse me?”

Stepping toe-to-toe with me, whiskey on his breath, “Don’t play dumb. I know she’s been hiding out here. I’ll find her myself.”

He went to move past me but I side stepped, blocking him from the stairs altogether. “I was trying to be nice but I guess you’re picking the hard way. I wouldn’t step another foot inside my house, you might see something you don’t wanna see like your daughter in bed.”

“She’s under age,” his finger dug into my chest and my hand closed into a tight fist. I wanted to lash out but he had a point.

“And ruin the most important night of her life so far? I’m not naked for the fun of it, pal. You are the last person she wants to see after losing her virginity.” My words were sharp, heavy, assaulting the way I meant them to be.

Her father looked up at me as I took another step, towering over him now, “I want her home before I press charges for kidnapping.”

“Family dinner sounds great. How about Friday at your place?” I smirked knowing I won and her father did in fact hate me the way she wanted. I was a family’s dream unless you’re a few months shy of eighteen and a virgin than I’m considered a nightmare.

Heading upstairs I took two at a time and without even making it past the threshold I heard the light sound of her snoring. Wrapped in a blanket that covered only her boobs and pussy she was curled up on her side fast asleep. Exhaling I could sleep easy know she didn’t hear a single part of that chat.

Now I had to convince her to go dinner with people she had been avoiding. People who didn’t make her feel safe or happy.

Hell, I even hated them and I didn’t know them.

I wanted to protect her, keep her from every ounce of harm and I didn’t care how fucking wrong it is that I’m older than her. Age was bullshit concept when we fit together like we did twenty minuets ago before her dad stormed my house like a maniac.

The next morning we fell into our routine of me working out before she woke up and her joining me in the shower. She was washing the shampoo out of her long hair while I scrapped soap around my muscles. “I want to meet your parents…”

She turned out with a hostile look on her face, “Why?”

“You know so much about my family, my dad, my brother and sister. Hell, last time I FaceTimed my mom she wanted to talk to you but I don’t know much about your family.”

We swapped spots under the water and I could feel her resentment on the topic. “They aren’t like your family. There’s not enough good to even tell you about. Let’s just drop it.”

Exhaling I let the water beat on my face, swiping it off, I pushed. “Please. Just call them. Let’s do dinner on Friday.”

“Cody. Why are pushing this? Do you regret what we did and this is your way of pushing me away?”

Fuck.

I had pushed and now she created some monster of an idea why.

Turning around I dragged her close, holding her against me, her perfect ass wedged against me. “I’m sorry, okay? I don’t regret anything. Your dad showed up last night… he’s gonna press charges unless we go to dinner Friday.”

Pushing me away in anger, she shout, “Are you fucking serious?”

Before I could even answer, she had exited the shower, grabbed a towel and slammed the bathroom door. It was our first fight.

Giving her space, I showered like normal and wrapped a towel around my waist all too similarly to last night when her dad showed up. Leaning against the door frame of the bathroom I watched her franticly get her makeup on.

“Babe. I didn’t wanna have to tell you he showed up.”

“You want to meet them so badly then let’s go to dinner tonight. I’m not doing anything on his terms, why, so he can be in control? I don’t think so. Get eady for all your demons to served up with dinner.” Texting furiously, her fingers clicked against every button, before dropping it in her lap.

Moving closer, standing behind her, I softened my face even more. “Just talk to me. I wasn’t going to let him storm our fucking room and harass you ten seconds after losing your virginity. This was settling, a family dinner.”

“You don’t know him. That’s not settling, it’s what he wants and probably to ruin us.” She was still running hot when I gave her space, letting her decompress while I occupied another part of the house. If dinner was all we had to do to make them leave us alone I was willing to do it. I was willing to do a whole hell of a lot more actually.

R E A D E R S P O V

Did I want to be drunk for family dinner? Absolutely. I knew exactly the kind of tactics that would be weaponized for not coming home then to be found with Cody, someone older and not of my father's choosing.

It made our love story seem like a tragedy, the forbidden, albeit taboo relationship when Cody was so much more than that.

He felt safe, something I haven't truly felt since I got old enough to talk back.

My father didn't have expecatations - he had demands and when those demands weren't met, well, than he had retalation. It wasn't a dynamic I wanted Cody to witness and think of our age difference even more.

Doning a simple black maxi dress with an open back and a pair of comfortable heels I finished smearing my lipstick in while Cody changed his tie for the millionth time. He was nervous and I didn't want to make it worse for him.

Taking my hand, wordlessly, I stood up and took the lead down the stairs. "We should do a shot before we go. We both need it," I suggested it but knew my tumblr was already coated in whiskey I had been drinking.

"Maybe you had enough babe."

Disregarding him entirely I poured two healthy shots of Wheatley Vodka and pushed the shotglass towards him. "I don't want you to get in trouble when I pushed you to take my virginity... that's the only reason I am doing this."

Not yet shooting his back he came closer, hands hoovering and his face full of concern. "Just tell me what I need to know before we go over there. Why are you scared of your father? That’s not normal.”

My eyes started to well up rapidly and I kept looking up, avoiding eye contact and the unavoidable tears ruining my makeup. It was too much to explain, too much to live through again as I explained it and the way I knew he could judge me felt like a deathwish on us.

"Let's just go,” I mumbled before downing another shot.

Cody opened every door until I was safely tucked inside his car, foot pressed down on the gas in his truck that felt more like a tank. Sitting back with one hand on the wheel I could feel his eyes glance over at me. His vest tight to his frame and the white button up with the subtle tie only made him look more like a dirty secret. His features were haunting and his toned body only made the threat to devour you seem so much more real. Everything about him scream predator yet all of him was nice enough to care.

“It sounds silly saying it out loud… Every boyfriend I had he would blackmail into dumping me, every friendship ruined, every chance he had to isolate me he did. Controlling, overbearing, abusive. I remember he drugged me just to keep me home after I vanished for a week. I was at Layla’s but it didn’t matter, no permission, no warning was all it took to earn his wrath. I’ve been at your house for much longer, wonder what kind of punishment it will be this time.”

His hand shook my leg like he wanted to wake me up, “I wouldn’t let anything happen to you. Do you know how hard it was to not hurt him when he showed up? Hurt him for just wanting to drag you away from me.”

Forcing myself to relax, I tried to melt into his touch, keeping my mouth closed and wishing I was more drunk.

By the time we got past the gate that protected their castle I felt my heart pick up speed. I wanted to burn the whole place to the ground and hope the memories went with it.

Taking his hand, I followed his lead, knocking at the door like a gentleman. The door flew open and my mother presented her best rendition of perfect housewife. “Come in, you must be her friend, Cody, right?”

“Yes, ma’am, Cody Runnels.”

She nudged me out, leading him inside and leaving me by the door like discarded trash.

Not bothering to pick up the pace to catch up I strutted behind them, watching her try to dazzle him the way I expected. “Tell me about yourself. Come have a seat.”

“I’m a legacy wrestler, I wrestle for WWE now, I grew up here, my father passed away last year, and I’m falling in love with your daughter.” He sounded so sure and I felt hit by his confession like a ton of bricks.

He falling for me? Did I even want that?

I wanted him to take my virginity so badly I had thought of what I wanted next.

I whispered a warning cry, “Cody…”

His 1000 watt smile flashed in my direction as his hand came up my leg. “We can talk about it later.”

Feeling the air sucked out of the room my father’s signature glass of ice and scotch pierced my ears. “Falling for my daughter? Does she know all the skeletons in your closet, son? No woman should fall for just the good version. They have to love the bad too.”

My mom placed the last dish down on the table and sat down with us when my eyes tried to beg her to hold him off but it was no use. She was brainwashed by the good life and ruining that was never going to happen.

“Everyone had demons, sir.” Cody wasn’t afraid and the puddle in my panties now was distracting. “Like tracking your daughter to my house after losing her virginity? Storming my stairs trying to ruin that moment? Like those kind of demons.”

“Watch your mouth, son. I did some digging on you. Don’t forget you’ve lived a lot of life that my daughter hasn’t at seventeen.” He paused dramatically and Cody goated him to continue. “There’s been a long string of woman, hasn’t there? A few virgins, a few abortions, a dropped compliant after a bar fight with a female. Sounds like you can’t treat woman well so you imagine my surprise when you say you plan to love her.”

Cody shifted in his seat but still not scared of my father the way I was taught. “I can’t warrant any response to that. I’ve been with virgins when I was younger, of course. Are you implying I can tell by glancing at them? Absurd.”

Sipping his scotch until the end, my mom bounced up to get him a refill. “No, son, I’m saying you have a habit of liking young woman who are guaranteed virgins.”

Cody shot up from his seat, “We’re leaving. Come on.”

Dragging me behind him to the door my father matched his energy. Standing with a new glass, shouting after us, “She’s still seventeen, son. That’s still against the law.”

Stopping at the door, he swiftly turned around, taking the steps to stand toe-to-toe with my father. “I already took her virginity, cats out of the bag, she’s eighteen soon and you can’t do anything about it.”

“Son, she’ll get bored of the thrill of you like she always does. This is just a long string of bad behavior to piss me off.”

“Trust me, sir, no one was thinking of you while she was screaming my name.” Cody stood there proudly of those details and I could feel my cheeks flare up red.

“Least wear a condom son, she doesn’t need to be one of those girls you paid to have an abortion,” my dad shouted after us as Cody yanked the door open and the cool night air felt like new oxygen to our lungs.

Neither of us had talked about skeletons, neither of us shared the uncomfortable traits we carried, not yet.

Climbing into the truck Cody nearly did a burn out in the driveway before leaving, scaring their perfect castle. “I didn’t pay anyone to get an abortion. Let’s make that clear. I helped pay for a mutual solution.”

Every part of him was tense, even the muscles around his perfectly chiseled jaw. “Okay, how many?”

“Two.”

Keeping my voice just above a whisper I watched his hands grip the steering wheel hard, “I didn’t expect to be the only virgin, Cody. No one is questioning you. Everyone has a past.”

“He’s trying to imply I seek out fucking virgins. You’ve seen my dick, do you think I need virgins to get off? I didn’t even want to hurt you last night.”

“Cody,” I said sternly trying to keep last night out of my mind because every time I thought of it I got goosebumps and the space between my legs would ache for more.

Glancing over at me he caught me lightly rubbing my legs together and biting my lip. “Oh, shit, babe. You’re still riding that high.”

I felt like I could come just thinking about his cock, about being inside me, feeling those memories wash over me like I was there again. My legs started shaking a little and I tried to compose myself in the passenger seat.

Requested Tags:

@alyyaanna

[badasmuse]

“Slow Motion”

Bada Lee x Reader

Warnings: not technically 18+ but it should be, language, bada slander, stripper!bada, rich!reader

Summary: you come every week to support your favorite stripper.

Based off Slow Motion by Trey Songz

“back again?” the bouncer says to you as you cut to the front of the line.

“of course. my favorite dancer is here. i don’t make this money for nothing.” you say winking and walking in when he opens the rope.

“enjoy.” he shakes his head.

you’ve been coming to club bebe for three weeks now. you went with your friend for his birthday a month ago and that girl… man that girl was so fine. her long legs and pretty skin. the way she wrapped herself around the pole. you won’t say you’re in love but man.

since then you’d show up every monday and thursday (the owner told you her scheduled days) ready to throw money at her. or slip it in her bra or thong whenever she was close enough. you walked in just in time cause she was making her way to the stage. you pushed through to the front, pulling money from your purse.

“oh great. i hate when she comes out.” some guy says, leaning back in his seat.

“yeah me too,” his friend replies, “like why would she even become a stripper. she’s too tall. i’m surprised she hasn’t tripped over her own legs yet.”

you ignore them, focusing on the way she dances in front of you. you’re shocked at the outfit she’s wearing, it’s see through, she’s never shown this much skin.

you didn’t care, you enjoyed it really.

you watched the sad look on her face as she danced around the pole. it’s like she knew she wasn’t anyone’s favorite. no one likes her. except you of course.

hearing the comments about her made your blood boil cause you knew she could hear them too. so you did what you do best, grabbed more money from your bag and continue to throw it at her.

“you like this garbage show?” a man next to you says. “i wouldn’t waste a penny on her.”

“me and you are not the same.” you reply, grabbing another stack from your purse. you ran out of ones but twenties will do.

she got close and kneeled down next to you and you stuck twenties in the side of her one piece.

she let out a gasp and stood up blushing. quickly finishing her act, she picks up all the money and runs towards the back.

you sigh and go to find the nearest security guard, “i want a private dance with her. i’ll pay whatever she wants just get me one.”

“one moment.” he says walking towards the back.

minutes later the guy comes back ushering you towards a room. “she said give her five minutes. it’s gonna be a thousand.”

you hand him the money and he takes it and puts it in her little mailbox in the back as you walk into the room.

moments later, she shyly enters the room. “um… hi.” she whispers. “sorry i don’t know how this works you’re my first private dance.” she mumbles.

“i’m not too sure how it works either. i’m not a fan of strip clubs but you? i’m a fan of you.” you say as she walks towards you.

she blushes and looks down, “um… is there a specific song you’d like me to dance to?”

“slow motion by trey songz.” you respond so fast she barely finishes speaking.

“oh.. i know that one.” she says giggling. she hooks her phone up playing the song before strutting over to the pole in the center of the room. you sat back watching her dance around the pole. wrapping her legs around it doing stunts. you look in your bag for more money to give her. you wanted to empty your bank account for her.

at the end of the song she blushed at all the money you threw at her. “i hope that was good for my first time.”

“baby it was perfect. and just know.. you’re worth more than a thousand dollars. i’d pay fifty thousand to have a private show from you.” you whisper.

“i’ll be back on monday. save me a dance pretty girl.” you say before walking out, leaving her stunned and alone to pick up her money.

“this woman is gonna pay my bills for months.” she mumbles happily.

Taglist (open! comment to be added!): @waveartistry @sun-nyy @yngtort @jennamc75 @m0r0s1111 @seungxstar @badasbebe @lil-elliesgf @currentfications

a/n: this was for darling waveartistry but they deactivated? :( i wish i got it out before they did but hopefully they come back i’m not too sure why they deactivated i haven’t been here in so long, super sad rn :(((( also there’s gonna be a part 2 to this which will be 18+

[is-emily-real]

i'll be home for next year

Steve stared at the cracked wood in front of him, trepidation welling in his gut. The lacquer had long since worn away, time peeling it back until it was merely flecks glimmering in the light of the moon. This house… the memories flooded back, hours and hours spent making it livable, accessible, comfortable enough so that its inhabitants could hope to heal. From what, well, that brought a bitter taste to his mouth.

He’d hated leaving. Hated, hated, hated it, but he couldn’t help it. The girls could barely make it through their first week off at college. The fear in Robin’s voice needled him through his memory, begging him to come just for the night, just to keep them safe from memories of the evil vanquished a few scant weeks prior. Then a night turned into two, turned into weeks, turned into months. Eddie hadn’t even been awake then.

Dustin tried to keep him updated, but the few times they’d seen each other since he’d moved away, he’d read the pain in Steve’s eyes with an uncharacteristic shrewdness and decided to keep his mouth shut. Maybe, bless him, maybe the boy was growing up after all.

Then, before he knew it, Max was on his couch in tears talking about how she’d written “Billy” on the tag for Eddie’s Christmas present, and how could she ever think to replace her brother, even if he was a piece of shit, and the pangs in his chest told him he’d made a grave mistake.

Did he even know Eddie anymore? Did he even remember the last day they’d shared?

Red crackled around them as they fought through twisted vines and trees to get back to their friends. His heaving breaths reopened the wounds in his side, but he could hardly feel it as he pressed on in a panic, spurred by Dustin’s sobs that echoed an inhuman distance. Someone was hurt, someone was dying, and he was off in the middle of the abyss, still reeling from the disappearance of the very thing he’d walked into this intending to kill.

He broke through the tree line and into a sprint, leaving Robin and Nancy to catch up when they could. He spied Dustin kneeling on slick ground, guarding Eddie from the demobats despite the fact that they were nothing more than corpses spread across the lot. Eddie tried to shush him, but it was little more than a gurgle through bloody teeth.

Steve’s hands found Dustin as he fell to his knees beside him, drawing him into a quick hug. “It’s alright,” he’d said, voice laden with uncertainty. “We’re gonna help.” Curls bounced as he nodded against Steve’s chest, sucking in air as he tried to pull himself together. “I need your shirt.”

Dustin winced as he shifted back to pull the grey hoodie off, and Steve and Robin made quick work of ripping it to shreds, the shaking of his arms quelled only by the task at hand. “Help me get him up.” Eddie groaned as they pulled him to a sitting position, head lolling from the blood loss to land on Steve’s shoulder.

“I didn’t… didn’t run away this time,” he mumbled, the ghost of a smile on his lips.

“You didn’t. You fought.” He pressed a wad of cloth to the weeping wound on his neck. Nancy’s nimble hands darted back and forth as she wrapped the bandage around his stomach, so similar to his own.

A rumble shook the earth. Nancy’s eyes flashed at him. “We need to go. Can you get him?”

“I’ll try. Get them out,” he nodded to Robin and Dustin. Something in him broke at her look of defiance. “Please, Nance. I can’t… I can’t lose any of you.”

She held for a second longer, her gaze tearing him in half, then she relented. As they began to retreat, something warm fell in drops on his skin. Tears began to stream through the grime on Eddie’s face, contrasting his soft smile. “Never been held like this.”

His eyes began to flutter. “Come on, man, stay with me.” Steve scrambled to get them standing, but Eddie was dead weight, just barely able to give his fists a squeeze.

“I’m dying, Steve. Not even twenty, and I’m about to die.”

“You’re not going to die.” He strained again, this time able to get Eddie in his arms, but the coldness and terror of this place was sapping his strength. He could hear the scraping of furniture as his friends worked to get through the gate, could hear the cracks and snaps as the ground split, but it was what he could feel that cut through the weary cloud of his mind.

Eddie was laughing, the gentle shake of his shoulders reverberating across Steve’s nerves. He felt the rattling wheezes, the warm lips brushing his collarbone, pushing him to his feet and forward across dirt rolling like the sea. He felt Eddie wince as they clattered up the wooden steps, felt the draw of breath as he stepped across the threshold like a man carrying his love into their home for the first time. A few more steps and they’d be there, and yet, something felt unfinished.

“Steve?” He found pleading brown eyes in the shadows.

He couldn’t tell what it was that pulled his lips to Eddie’s, but the coppery taste of blood underlaid a sweet desperation that could only ever find its outlet in a moment of despair. He savored it even as Robin’s shouts reached his ears from the gate above, and then the pitching of the trailer pulled him back to his senses.

What he felt kept him sharp even then. “Thank you.” Eddie’s words branded his heart before his eyes slid closed. It was the last time he’d see them open.

No lights shone through the threadbare curtains. Maybe he was asleep, curled up in warmth and safety, invulnerable to the dread coursing through Steve's veins. Maybe he wasn’t even here. Maybe he was off somewhere in arms that loved him better. Maybe Steve could turn around, walk down the drive until he was out of the glow that stabbed at all his insecurities, and truly disappear.

But then he was letting his courage slip away, and though it would have been easier to let himself be forgotten, kinder even, something in his chest protested at the thought of leaving this place without even a glimpse of who he came to find.

He rapped his knuckles somberly on the faded door and waited for his life to change.

Shuffling inside the house cut to his bones, and he began to sweat despite the winter wind. This was a mistake. He shouldn’t be here, shouldn’t have even thought he could come waltzing back like he hadn’t abandoned a man in a coma, shouldn’t have hoped to find a welcome repose in arms he’d only felt so fleetingly.

Before he could tuck tail and run, the door opened.

Just like that moment so long ago, he found brown eyes in the shadows, the confusion painted on his pale face making way for shock, and the recognition there drove all the breath from Steve’s lungs.

He flung his arms around Steve’s neck, fingers tangling in his hair, and God himself could not have stopped their lips from finding one another.

Fireworks. Literal fireworks boomed and crackled as Steve poured that same sweet desperation into the kiss, despair abandoned in the golden flashes for something new, something that settled his fraught soul and sparked a fire under his skin. He was born again in the dark of night by the bubbling laughter shaking Eddie’s frame, the glee with which Eddie kissed him back and made him whole.

When the kiss finally broke, Steve pressed his forehead to Eddie’s. The man’s warm baritone filled his veins.

“You came home.”

Maybe ’87 wouldn’t be so bad.

[nebulablakemurphy]

Twenty Questions (Part 4)

Summary: For Y/N’s 20th birthday Haymitch gifts her 20 questions, that he has to answer honestly, no matter what. Mentions of sex/forced pregnancy. Moves & Countermoves companion piece.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

“How many…do you think?”

“Hmm?” Haymitch hums, eyeing his wife.

“Kids.” Y/N clears her throat, “how many kids do you think Snow will make us have?”

“I’d say one of each. A boy and a girl will keep the people entertained. If the next one is a boy, I think we’ll have to try again for a girl. Assuming we stay in his good graces, we’ll probably be done after that.” Haymitch shrugs a shoulder.

“I don’t know what else we can do.” Y/N rubs her hands together anxiously.

“There’s nothing else, Angel.” Haymitch sighs, “we just have to ride this out.”

Y/N nods, rubbing the swell of her belly. She’s five months along, over half way.

“Did you want,” Haymitch stumbles over the words. “How many do you want?”

Y/N lifts a shoulder. “I think being an only child might be lonely for him.” Him. Their baby. Because it isn’t about them anymore, it never will be again. “Two would be good.”

“Two would be good,” Haymitch agrees.

————————————————————————

Haymitch drinks more than he ever has.

Y/N’s belly grows. She’s tired all the time. She snaps at Haymitch and then chases after him with tears in her eyes, begging for forgiveness. “I’m sorry, I’m… I know I’m awful. I’m trying to do better.”

“You’re not awful,” Haymitch grumbles. “I’m trying too.”

“But you are! You are doing better and I’m…I feel like everyday I get worse. That’s the difference and I’m frustrated with myself. I’m frustrated at the situation and I don’t know what to do. You’re the only person here with me all the time, so you get the brunt of everything. And I know it’s not fair to you. I know you hate me for it.” How could you not?

“I need you to know that I do not hate you. I could never hate you. I see how hard this pregnancy and marriage has been for you. I’m sorry, from the bottom of my heart, if I could change it for you, I would. But I can’t.” Haymitch admits, “I can’t and it kills me.”

“It’s not hard being married to you,” she breaks off. “I’d never given a lot of thought to marriage. I didn’t necessarily want to be married. But doing it with you is easy, being with you is easy and I feel safe when I’m with you.”

“Tell me what’s wrong then, Angel. Tell me what I can do to help you. Anything you need. You just gotta give me some fucking direction here, because I am drowning in this.”

“I don’t know what I need. I feel restless all the time. I can’t sleep. I’m-”

“You’re afraid.” Haymitch gets it.

“Just…just tell me that everything’s gonna be ok.”

“It is gonna be ok. I promise.”

She closes the distance between them, relaxing into the feel of his arms around her. Holding her close, making everything ok.

————————————————————————

Things are better after that.

“Everything’s gonna be ok.”

He tells her every morning and again at night.

They decorate the nursery, they give him a name. Everest. Everest Abernathy.

By the time they mentor the games that year, Y/N is eight months along. They’ve agreed to stay in the Capitol, until the baby is born.

“You’ll have access to the best medicine known to man in our hospitals, Y/N. The same cannot be said for District Twelve.” President Snow makes her an offer that sounds more like a threat. In any event, she can’t refuse.

Their chances for a victor this year are slim to none. The female tribute is fifteen, but Y/N can spot every bone in her body. The boy isn’t much better, and only twelve.

Y/N weeps for them until she vomits. Only when she is alone, jotting notes in her tablet. She remains strong in their presence, focused. Knowing Haymitch won’t offer much help. He stopped trying and she doesn’t blame him.

She might give up too, if it didn’t mean leaving the poor tributes to fend for themselves.

It makes no difference though, both go down in the initial bloodbath. She mourns them alone, while Haymitch drowns his sorrows down at the bar.

And time passes, the same way it always has. Too fast or too slow.

Part 5

[potentialprince]

Rent a Friend - Chapter 1: Imposter Syndrome

Cross posted on AO3.

Tweek was never known for his subtlety.

“So, my family is having a picnic at Stark’s Pond this—gah!—Saturday.” Tweek’s voice wavered, soft but insistent. Despite it all, he almost felt proud, even as his hands shook.

It took him twenty minutes to get the sentence out, as customers popped in and out of his parents’ coffee shop. The air felt stuffier today—from the moment Tweek clocked in he could feel it—though that could’ve just been his nerves. He tried to seem casual—cool and collected—where he was leaning on the cabinet near the register next to his coworker, Kenny. (But that was hard on a normal day. Now, with his heart going a mile a minute, it was nearly impossible.)

The coffee shop hummed with life around them. A low murmur of conversation swirled, punctuated by the occasional clatter of cups being set on tables. It wasn’t a particularly busy morning, but the shop held onto its usual charms: mismatched cups and chairs that kind of drove Tweek crazy, sunlight filtering through the wide windows to dance across the weathered wooden floors, and the quirky chalkboard menu that listed drinks with overly complex names in the swirling letters of his mom’s handwriting. Tweek wasn’t even sure how long ago she had written it—it never changed.

There was a stain on the countertop beside them. Tweek hunched over as he pretended to wipe it off with his shirt sleeve—just to look productive.

Kenny glanced at him. “That’s… nice?” His gaze shifted to the stubborn stain, then back to Tweek, who was still scraping at it like his life depended on it. The mark was old. Probably outdated both of their time here—and Tweek’s dad claimed that Tweek was born in the back room! It was basically grandfathered in at this point.

“My mom told me I should, uh, bring a friend,” Tweek continued, “th–they’re renting out a pavilion down there. It’s gonna be like a potluck-type… Thing.” Tweek paused, somehow more embarrassed. “Ngh!—I think.”

Kenny took out his phone. His signature laid-back grin tugged at the corners of his mouth, but his eyes held a flicker of curiosity. Tweek hated himself for bringing this up. He should have just bit back his shame and gone alone, avoiding the awkwardness of asking anyone. “A friend? Sounds fun. Who’re you gonna bring?”

The question hung in the air between them, weighing down the already-stuffy air. Tweek’s breath hitched, almost choking. He tried to compose himself with the reminder that this wasn’t just small talk. He needed to get a grip.

Tweek’s fingers danced over each other, his nails catching on frayed edges he didn’t remember chewing. He stuffed his hands into his apron pockets, willing them to stay still. It was always hard for him not to pick at his cuticles, even when the tiny clicking noise always set his teeth on edge—like his anxiety feeding on itself.

“That’s the—ngh—that’s the thing…” Fanning himself with his hand, he realized his face was burning. The stain still stuck to the countertop. “I was wondering if you’d want to come?”

“Oh.” Kenny looked up from his phone, setting it on the counter. He had his calendar pulled up, Tweek noticed, feeling an ounce of hope. “Are we friends?”

Then the question hit him, and any confidence he had jumped ship. “I—uh… Well—”

“I’d say we are,” Kenny corrected easily, like making Tweek’s stomach do back flips was a hobby of his. It kind of was, in a way. Tweek wasn’t sure why he even liked the guy. Kenny was known for making him anxious, which he usually hated, but there was something else there. An almost understanding. “I didn’t think you would, though. I mean, we’ve worked together for over a year, and it took you, like, five months to start talking to me.”

“I’m sorry!” Tweek squeaked.

Kenny laughed, putting a hand on Tweek’s shaking shoulder. Comforting. Solid. “Dude, I would totally go, but I’ve got Karen’s art show on Saturday.”

“Shit!” Tweek exclaimed. “I knew I was forgetting something. You were talking about that all—all week! How could I—ugh—forget?”

Kenny laughed again, putting his other hand on Tweek’s shoulder, shaking lightly before letting go. “Chill, dude. You don’t have to remember everything I tell you. I know you’ve got a lot going on up there.”

Tweek grunted, pulling at his hair to refocus.

“Why don’t you bring someone else?” Kenny offered.

“There is no one else!” Tweek pulled harder, squeezing his eyes shut. It was the best he could do to avoid looking at Kenny. He didn’t want to see his reaction. “I don’t have any—guh—friends. And—and even if I did, I wouldn’t want to–to introduce anyone to my parents!”

Kenny laughed again and Tweek’s heart sank for a second before he said, “That’s fair, man. Your parents kinda creep me out.” Tweek opened his eyes. Looking down at Kenny, Tweek saw he had a relaxed look on his face. No judgment or pity like Tweek had feared. “I get why you turned to me.”

The back door slammed shut behind them, but both parties ignored it for the most part—other than Tweek’s heart jumping out of the pit in his chest a little bit at the sound. Whistling from that direction indicated that it was just Tweek’s dad coming back from his mid-morning errands. Tweek let out a sigh of barely-there relief, loosening his grip on his hair. Since they’d hired Kenny, his parents left the shop more. It was the only thing that made working here worth it still. Other than the passive income he got as he took his online courses.

That and his innate fear of abandonment; he genuinely wasn’t sure his parents would keep him around if he didn’t help with Tweak Bros.

He twitched, checking the clock above them. It read 12:30. They didn’t usually get customers after about noon on Tuesdays—South Park was too small a town for big business between about 11 and 4 on a weekday. Tweek would wonder how his parents stayed open if he didn’t rent the apartment above the shop. Over half his paycheck went right back into their pockets. And while it was a rough system, it kept him off the streets, out of their house, and able to work essentially on command. Strangely, that—not being their son—was what discounted his rent. Not that he was going to complain, he’d take cheap rent any day over living with his parents again.

“Can you just go alone?” Kenny asked, snapping Tweek out of his spiraling thoughts.

Tweek shrugged, though the idea made his stomach twist. He could already hear his mom’s polite but pointed comments about his posture, his dad’s oversharing about the shop, and the inevitable, dreaded questions: Why aren’t you married yet?

“I don’t want to go at all,” He admitted, “My mom just asked me to help her bring things out. And it’d be dumb to—to go all the way out to Stark’s Pond to help her and—ngh—leave. I kinda thought having someone with me would make it—gah—bearable.”

“Look, man, I get it. Last Christmas, I tried to fake food poisoning to get out of my family dinner. My mom didn’t buy it, so I had to sit there for three hours listening to my dad complain about the job market.” He shook his head, smirking. “Sometimes you just gotta suffer through it. But it helps to have someone there.”

Tweek groaned.

“You’re overthinking it,” Kenny said, leaning on the register like it wasn’t a big deal at all.

Tweek turned back to his stain, armed with a cloth from nearby, scrubbing the counter harder. He did his best to focus on the familiar motion. Back and forth. Kenny made everything look so easy—like walking up to someone and starting a conversation wasn’t a Herculean task. Meanwhile, Tweek could barely think about it without his brain screaming all of the things that could go wrong. The counter squeaked under his hand, a small comfort amid the chaos.

Kenny continued, watching Tweek work with unnecessary force. “Just tell her you brought the best barista in South Park. That’ll impress her.”

“Guh!” Tweek twitched, clutching the cloth like a lifeline. “You’re insane.”

“Nope. Just confident,” Kenny shot back with a wink, leaving Tweek to wonder how the guy could say something like that with a straight face. “You give yourself too much shit, dude. You’re the only reason this place doesn’t fall apart. You’ve got more strength than you think…”

The door swung open with a theatrical flourish. “Special delivery for Kenny McCormick!” One of their regular customers, Clyde Donovan, announced as he stepped inside like he owned the place.

Tweek didn’t know many regulars’ whole names, but Kenny had gone to school with him. Most people their age had known each other since preschool. Tweek, himself, had been home-schooled—which mostly meant he worked in his parents’ shop through his childhood instead of going to classes. He was just happy not to make small talk with old acquaintances like Kenny had to every day. That was a brand of torture he had never been exposed to before Kenny started at Tweek Bros.

Clyde was a bit of an exception, though, since he worked in the strip mall a few blocks down—a manager at his dad’s shoe store, Tweek remembered Kenny saying. One of Kenny’s roommates worked a few doors down from him, at his dad’s law practice. Tweek had never met the guy, but Kenny talked pretty highly of him, so Tweek figured he was probably cool.

“What’s up, Clyde?” Kenny shooed Tweek over to the espresso machine—their current arrangement. Tweek wasn’t actually sure how Kenny got hired, the guy kinda sucked at making coffee. His dad said the McCormicks were close family friends, or something, even though Tweek hadn’t met Kenny until last year. (He wasn’t entirely sure how family friends worked since his parents never really had them, but he figured they would introduce their kids at least once before adulthood.)

Not that Tweek would complain about Kenny now.

His customer service skills far surpassed Tweek’s own (which were essentially nonexistent), so they agreed to have Kenny deal with the talking while Tweek cranked out beverages. Over the past year it had been a good system, since Kenny seemed to only ever be scheduled to work with Tweek.

Tweek was still working on teaching Kenny to make drinks, though, because they probably wouldn’t always work together (and Tweek wasn’t sure he could handle life without the other blonde again, though he refused to admit it. Kenny had a big enough ego as it was.)

“Not much,” Clyde said with a grin. “You forgot your lunch today, so Kyle sent me over with it.”

“Oh shit,” Kenny groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose dramatically. “I told him he didn’t have to.”

Clyde shrugged, holding out a familiar, orange lunchbox for Kenny. “You know how Kyle is.”

Kenny took it with an endearing eye roll. “Hey, Clyde, could you give this to him for me?” He lifted his middle finger, though there didn’t seem to be any ill-will behind it, since Clyde snorted. Another thing about public school kids, insults meant nothing to them. It was hard for Tweek to understand, really. (He wasn’t sure he wanted to.)

Kenny slid his hands into his apron pockets, grinning at his joke with crooked teeth. “Seriously, though. Can we get you anything?”

“Oh!” Clyde twisted around, searching his pockets until he pulled out a list. “I need a few things.” He held the paper out to Tweek, who fumbled for a second before he realized the guy was trying to give it to him. “Kyle said it would be easier to give you the whole order.”

“Gah!” Tweek twitched.

“Dude,” Kenny laughed, taking the list. “At least let me ring them in so Tweek doesn’t have to fuck with you.”

Tweek flushed at Kenny’s bluntness, but Clyde didn’t seem to mind, moving on easily. “Tweak, like the name of the place?”

Tweek grunted, grinding his teeth together. “That’s my last name. My first name’s the same but spelled with two E’s. Because my parents—guh!—hate me.”

Kenny snorted as he rang in drinks, but didn’t correct him. “His parents own the place. I think they were gonna use him as, like, a walking advertisement.”

“Wild,” Clyde said.

“Yeah,” Kenny agreed, “Probably would’ve worked better if they ever let him leave.”

Tweek twitched. Clyde’s eyes glanced from Kenny to Tweek, who shifted on his feet. Waiting for Kenny to finish his part was becoming torture, and Tweek was sure the other blonde knew it, taking his time punching in orders. When he finally gave Clyde the total, Tweek yanked the receipt from the till and started working.

Kenny sent him an amused smirk. “Don’t worry, though,” he said to Clyde, “The kid can make coffee like no one you’ve ever seen.”

“Well, hopefully, they’ll start sending me here for the coffee run, then,” Clyde said, putting his hands behind his head. “The Harbucks is farther away and I hate the stupid employees. They made Kevin Stoley a manager, dude. At least here I get to see you, Kenny.”

Tweek could hear Kenny roll his eyes. “I don’t get why they even send you out that way. Seems like a waste of time.”

Clyde shrugged. “I don’t know, man. It’s a good break, I guess.”

“Speaking of breaks, you got any plans this weekend?” Kenny asked casually, starting to prep cups for Tweek, writing shorthand for the orders on the side and pumping syrups like Tweek had taught him. It was a big help, especially for giant orders like this.

That used to be Tweek’s job, he remembered, before he could reach the counter. They had a stool set up for him back then, so he could stand at the till and take orders. It was nostalgic, almost, when he didn’t remember the crippling panic attacks he would have at the end of the day, after talking to so many strangers that his parents insisted were different from the stories they told him to keep him ‘safe.’

Tweek shook the memory away, nodding toward Kenny. A silent thank-you. Kenny sent him a worried look, and Tweek wondered how long he’d been lost in his thoughts for a minute before Kenny nodded back. Tweek let out a silent sigh of relief. He supposed Kenny was handy to have around, sometimes. Even if he was an asshole.

“Ugh,” Clyde groaned, “Don’t remind me. I had to cancel date night on Saturday to cover a double. And Bebe is still insisting we go out on Sunday, so I don’t even get to sleep it off.”

“Ooh,” Kenny winced, “That’s rough.”

“I love her, but she drives me crazy sometimes,” Clyde said, “Might bring her back a new pair of shoes and see if she’s cool staying in, though. What about you? Dragging Kyle out to an art show, I hear?”

“It’s not really dragging,” Kenny said, “My sister’s got a section in a showcase out in Denver, so we’re spending the weekend out there. Kyle kindly agreed to join us.”

“You sound like Bebe,” Clyde teased. Kenny threw his cleaning cloth in Clyde’s direction, snorting when Clyde gasped in offense. “I’m not talking to you anymore.”

“You’ll be back,” Kenny said, unfazed. “Stan is your weed supplier, and he barely likes you.”

Clyde rolled his eyes, his gaze falling back onto Tweek, who tried to stay focused on his drinks. “Nope. It’s too late. We’re not friends anymore. I’m replacing you with Tweek here.”

“Ngh—uh—what?”

“You can’t just replace me with any other blonde, Clyde,” Kenny said.

Clyde ignored him, staring at Tweek with wide, brown eyes. “Got any plans this weekend, Tweek?”

Tweek shifted on his feet, avoiding eye contact. “Uhhh…”

“He’s got a family thing,” Kenny said for him, not too invasive but more than Tweek would have said to a customer. Tweek sent him a look, but Kenny was back to work pumping syrups, so he didn’t notice.

“Ooh!” Clyde’s full focus was on him now, even though Kenny answered for him, and Tweek wished he could disappear. “A gathering of Tweaks!”

“Ngh—Yeah.”

“Why don’t you sound excited?” Clyde asked. “Oh, shit! You said your parents hate you, right? That sucks, dude. Do you have a buddy, at least? To make it easier?”

“I wish,” Tweek said before he could stop himself, face reddening.

Another thing Tweek had learned in his time with Kenny, was that he had absolutely no filter. Apparently, that was something they were taught in public school, too. He quickly turned back to the espresso machine, doing his best to hide behind it. It was harder than he thought, since he’d outgrown the machine years ago, but Clyde was shorter, which helped a little.

“Wait, so…” Clyde peeked as best as he could, an unsettling grin on his face. “You need a friend by this weekend?”

“Yep,” Kenny answered for him, an almost knowing look on his face.

Tweek shot him a dirty look. “It’s—ugh—not that big of a deal, I can probably just go…” The devilish look in Clyde’s eyes was starting to scare him. “Gah!—Alone.”

“Uno memento, por favor,” Clyde said, abruptly turning from the register.

Tweek shifted, keeping his eyes on the brunette as he pulled out his phone, determinedly texting while he paced in the lobby. That almost-evil smile he wore forced Tweek to look away. Oh, no. What had he gotten himself into? He shouldn’t be allowed to say anything to anyone. Now more than ever, he wished he could turn off his stupid brain and swallow his feelings, even if they burned a hole in his stomach.

Distantly, he could hear his father’s whistling fade, and the back door’s bell rang again. His departure lifted a barely-there weight on his shoulders that Tweek hadn’t noticed. He took this momentary freedom to glance at Kenny, the reason he was here in the first place. The other blonde’s eyes were locked on Clyde, thinking. There was a tilt to his brow that somehow made his whole expression ten times more serious, nothing like the casual Kenny that Tweek had gotten to know the past year. Something Tweek noticed about Kenny that always threw him off was how hyper-vigilant he was. One second, he’d be making inappropriate jokes to bother Tweek, and the next he’d be locked in, with a focus that was almost out of character.

Almost.

When he felt Tweek’s gaze, he loosened up a bit. Something deliberate. He turned to look at Tweek, a forced casualness to his whole demeanor. Tweek didn’t say anything, freezing. Kenny must’ve taken pity on him, giving him a soft smile. “Want help with some of those?”

It wasn’t the first time Kenny had surprised him like this, with his strange, effortless way of reading people. It was almost unsettling, but not unwelcome. Taking a second to think it over, Tweek eventually nodded, not sure what else to do. They made a little over half the order in silence before Clyde came back, phone in hand.

“I’ve just solved your problem, Tweekers,” He announced.

Tweek burnt his hand on the milk he was steaming, but he barely noticed over the wave of anxiety that punched him right in the gut. “W-What?”

“Clyde…” Kenny started, clearly trying not to laugh, but Clyde was still texting someone. Not even ten seconds after the message was sent, his phone started ringing.

“Craig,” Clyde answered without looking at the screen, and Kenny let out an almost strangled snort. “No, no. Hear me out.”

Whoever this Craig was, was loud enough for Tweek to hear his protests through Clyde’s speaker. Or maybe his voice was just deep, Tweek thought, because he didn’t seem to be yelling. Just adamantly against anything Clyde said, which Tweek honestly understood. He wouldn’t want to be dragged into something like this, either.

He couldn’t make out most of the words the other guy was saying, but somewhere near the end, he heard his name.

“Craig, no, listen to me,” Clyde said, starting to pace. “It’s not a big deal. He’s just a guy who needs a friend to help him out. He’s cool!” He looked up at Tweek for a moment before adding: “A little twitchy, but cool.”

There was a muffled response on the other end. Clyde’s face dropped, he switched his phone to the other side, further away from the counter. “Um…”

Tweek still caught the words “not my problem” from Craig and immediately regretted everything.

Clyde, for what it was worth, kept a positive attitude, smiling and even giving Tweek a thumbs up as he moved his phone a good inch from his face. “Give me a minute.” And with that, he speed-walked out the front door.

Tweek wondered if they should keep working on the drinks that Clyde had forgotten. With a heavy sigh, Kenny started loading what he could into drink carriers, so Tweek went back to work, too. On the sidewalk, Tweek could make out the figure of Clyde pacing back and forth. Tweek noted that he talked with his hands, even on the phone, gesturing widely as he spoke. Tweek wondered what he was saying—if there was anything he could say to get a positive reaction now.

Kenny let out another short laugh. “I don’t know why he’s doing this.”

“Huh?” Tweek looked away from Clyde, turning back to the bar. Beside him, he could hear Kenny fighting with the stack of drink carriers. Tweek knew the struggle, none of them came apart cleanly for him either.

“Clyde,” Kenny said like it clarified anything. “He keeps trying to set Craig up with more friends. He’s a cool dude and all, but he’s kind of a loner unless Clyde drags him out. They’ve known each other since they were in diapers or something. They were pretty close in school, too.”

Tweek raised an eyebrow, almost surprised at the thoughtfulness of Kenny’s words. He knew the guy was smarter than he looked, but it, again, threw Tweek off when he showed it. At first, Tweek had taken Kenny at face value: a goofy guy who helped pass the hours at work. He never came off as intuitive. Calculated. It was like he let his guard down, almost. Like this was who he really was, underneath it all. The more time they spent together, the more open he was about it. Maybe he was right to ask Kenny initially, maybe they were closer than either of them thought.

“Maybe he needs it,” Kenny said, the seriousness he held before falling. “Clyde knows him pretty well. He’ll probably just roll his eyes and go along with it. Clyde has that effect on him.”

“Oh…” Tweek mumbled.

“Craig’s kind of… Blunt,” Kenny added with a small grin. “But, hey, maybe that’ll balance out your… Uh, energy.”

“My what?”

“Nothing, dude,” Kenny said with a grin. “Craig’s chill. A little too chill, sometimes. One time, Clyde got into a screaming match at a basketball game, and Craig just sat there eating nachos. Didn’t even blink.” Kenny sounded like he was trying to reassure Tweek, though it did next to nothing for his quickly racing thoughts. “Honestly, Craig’s not a bad choice for you. He might even survive.”

“What?” Tweek squeaked.

Kenny snorted, loading up the last of the drinks into their carriers. “Look, I think Craig might be your best case scenario. Given the circumstances…”

“That’s not comforting!” Tweek hissed, taking a step back from the whole situation.

“I’m kidding,” Kenny said, more softly this time. “Don’t stress. You’ve got this, Tweek. And if it crashes and burns… Well, I’ll buy you a coffee.”

Tweek blinked at him. “You get free coffee!”

Kenny laughed. “Exactly. No pressure! Look, it could be good for you. If nothing else, you’d have someone to deflect your parents’ attention. Trust me, Craig’s a pro at keeping a straight face no matter what’s going on.”

Tweek wasn’t sure if he found that comforting or terrifying. Craig sounded unshakable—nice in theory, but what if his calmness only highlighted how much of a mess Tweek was? What if Craig bailed halfway through? What if he didn’t show up at all and Tweek wound up looking like an idiot? What if he did show up?

Tweek already regretted saying anything to Clyde.

The door swung open again, and Clyde sauntered in, phone still in hand, looking triumphant. “All right, Tweek! Craig’s in.”

Tweek froze, blinking rapidly. “Ngh—What?!” He grabbed onto the edge of the counter for support. “You didn’t—gah!—tell him everything, did you?!”

Clyde gave him a sly grin. “Relax, man. I just told him you needed a buddy for a family thing, and he was cool with it.”

“Really?” Kenny asked, sounding genuinely surprised. Tweek wondered how much of his own spiel he believed. One second, the guy was saying Clyde would be able to convince him, the next he was struggling to believe it had worked.

Clyde shrugged. “He said he’d go.”

“That’s not a good thing!” Tweek didn’t even try to compose himself. Clyde didn’t seem to mind, still proud of his own accomplishment.

“Relax, man,” Kenny tried.

Tweek groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “I don’t even know him! What if it’s—gah!—weird? What if he—ugh—hates me?”

Kenny leaned on the counter beside him. “Tweek, Craig’s probably the least judgmental guy in South Park. He’s pretty chill once you get past the deadpan thing. And if it’s weird, you’ll probably never have to see him again, so… No big deal, right?”

That didn’t feel as reassuring as Kenny probably intended. Tweek’s brain was already racing through worst-case scenarios faster than he could stop it. He took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. It wasn’t like he had to have Craig come. As long as he didn’t give any more information, he was solid. He would go with his mom, pretend to be normal for a few hours, and hopefully leave with his dignity.

Clyde started gathering his drinks, balancing carriers in ways Tweek didn’t think were possible. “I���ll send his info your way, and you can set things up?”

Tweek tried his best not to look worried, swallowing dryly. Kenny saw right through it, patting his back again. Clyde didn’t seem to notice, carefully starting toward the door. He laughed at himself as he struggled with it. Tweek almost offered help when he got it.

As Clyde started to leave, he turned back to the counter, almost gritting his teeth in a grin. “Don’t worry too much,” He said, staring right into Tweek’s soul. “Craig’s bark is worse than his bite—most of the time.”

[buglass]

Me, Me More Cowboy

Chapter 3

Summary: Based in the mid-1960s, ranch hand Elvis Presley is a new hire to the West Family Farm. He grows irate as cattle and livestock turn up missing over 6 months. Unbeknownst to the ranch, the hippie woman, Lilibet, he sees on occasion in their small town—along with members of her commune—is behind it. An ongoing dispute of right and wrong morally and romantically ensues as Elvis takes Lilibet up on her offer of viewing things through her perspective.

Pairing: Cowboy!Elvis Presley x Lilibet Stevens!OFC

Chapters: 3/5

WC: ~6.4K

Warnings (for the entire series): Some historical and geographical inaccuracies, fluff, slow burn, no beta reader, mention of DV, cult/commune culture, and some smut.

A/N: Things kick up a little more here finally. Thanks for reading my new comfort characters lol <3

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✧ Chapter 3 ✧

ELVIS

He was nervous—couldn’t-stop-shaking-nervous to perform that night knowing Lilibet would be watching. Any number of the Wests could say they heard him singing in or around the farm. That was nothing. They had become his family and left him complacent about singing around them. But the town and Lilibet were different. Elvis was prepared to sing Hank Wiliams’ Hey Good Lookin’ and Ray Charles’ version of I Love You So Much It Hurts. Both were musical giants he was taking and putting his spin on. 

Some part of him thought Lilibet might not show. What if she felt obligated because of their agreement? If her flirtatiousness were also obligatory then he would spiral. Lilibet seemed genuine enough. Rarely did she ever not tell him how it was. 

“What if I forget the words?” Elvis breathed out, straightening the ascot beneath his black button-up shirt to match his all-black get-up in the mirror. Maybe he was taking too many notes from Johnny Cash’s book. Sonny was standing in the doorway of his bedroom, arms crossed over his chest as he watched. 

“You drive a song into the ground when you like it. You won’t forget and even if ya do, you’re still one helluva singer, E. Besides, I think you’re more worried about what that girlfriend of yours thinks,” Sonny smirked.

“She’s not my girlfriend yet. I want to ask her tonight but I don’t want her to feel bad for me if I make a fool of myself up there.” Elvis huffed, smoothing his gelled hair back. 

“I think you’re worried for nothin’—”

“You’re worried for nothin’,” Elvis mocked.

And by the time the hour struck nine, they were out the door and various West family members drove down to the bar in different vehicles. Sonny’s family easily filled one truck, some riding in the bed. By nine-thirty, he was taking the stage and most patrons were already seated as he took out his guitar and settled in behind the microphone. He let out a breath, stepping back as he checked his guitar was tuned, and coyly scanned the audience. Had he come earlier, he might have gotten to see Lilibet and speak to her. Elvis wasn’t sure if it would make his nerves any better or worse to know where she was. Every other face, while familiar, wasn’t hers. 

He cleared his throat with no real previous warm-up and stepped toward the microphone again. “Good evening, everyone, thank y’all for being here whether purposely or accidentally. I’m gonna sing a couple tunes and then after that, if you hate ‘em, I’ll be out of your hair. Enjoy,” Elvis said.

LILIBET

She didn’t mean to be shrouded in one of the darkest parts of the bar, but the place was only so big. Lilibet thought Elvis might show up before his actual showtime but she was twenty minutes early and he was nowhere to be found. When he did walk in, he beelined for the stage. She watched as he calmly searched the above floor and below, not quite finding who or what he was looking for. Lilibet was seated with Morrow, convincing her they should go to the top floor and stand against the wooden railing. Elvis was too busy tuning his guitar to see her at first. When he spoke into the mic, she switched her perspiring drink into her opposite hand as she leaned forward. Elvis would have to look up to his right to see her but with only two songs, the time would fly.

“This is Hank Williams’ Hey Good Lookin’,” Elvis introduced before strumming on his acoustic guitar. 

Lilibet might have been drunk or merely in love but she didn’t expect Elvis’ voice to sound as raw as it did. Of course, his country twang was expected but his voice wasn’t as nasally as Hank Williams. Elvis’ voice was guttural and deep, changing pitch based on the emotion behind it. Lilibet felt something click in her brain that she had been withholding for months since they met. She wanted to touch and hold Elvis in the same ways he had shown interest but was too timid to openly request of him. Her lips parted and Morrow bumped her elbow into her.

“When are you gonna tell him how you feel?” Morrow pestered.

“I don’t wanna go down that rabbit hole. The last thing I need is to read the whole thing wrong,” Lilibet said. Soon after, Elvis was ending the short song and as if his ears were burning, his eyes finally found Lilibet. Elvis smiled wide as their eyes met and Lilibet instantly began smiling too. Morrow raised a brow, her suspicions confirmed.

“And what was that?” Morrow tested.

“Just a hello,” Lilibet dismissed.

“Right, sure it was.”

Elvis rolled into his next song, a ballad that Ray Charles put his irrefutable charm and voice on that no one could usually copy. Elvis was good at not quite imitating and making it his own. When his eyes drifted toward Lilibet again, his particular choice of lyric made her blush and she suddenly had to sip her drink. Maybe they were dancing around the inevitable. Lilibet would be lying to herself if she believed Elvis cared anymore about ratting her out to the Sheriff. 

The rest of the bar looked as tantalized as she felt. Lilibet’s eyes wandered to widowed Mrs. Declan who often drank her sorrows at a table, puffing on a cigarette with a long filter. She usually couldn’t hold her tongue the same way she couldn’t hold her liquor. Her eyes drifted to the table over to the Pardison brothers, the local roustabouts who brought more trouble than good and kept the Sheriff busy. Though Lilibet had to admit, they were generally kind despite their ways of life. Lilibet let her eyes drift back to Elvis once he finished the song and plucked out the last few chords on his guitar. Applause broke out around the bar from bottom to top. Elvis tipped his head and leaned into the mic one last time.

“Thank you very much. Have a good night, y’all,” Elvis smiled, stripping his guitar from his body. He stepped aside to put his guitar away into its case before standing below where Lilibet was. “Rapunzel, Rapunzel, please let down your hair.”

“You’ve got all the ladies eyeballin’ you,” Lilibet called down, tonguing her straw between her lips again. 

Morrow laughed at her side, leaning in to whisper she would give them time alone, and left. It was true, like big cats waiting to pounce, ladies she knew of passively from the town followed his every movement. Elvis held his hands onto his waist as the jukebox in the corner next to the bar kicked up again. 

“That includes you, doesn’t it?” Elvis smiled up at her. Lilibet tapped a finger against her chin and shrugged dramatically.

“I plead the fifth,” Lilibet said.

“Oh, no, you can’t go quiet on me now. I’ve got to hear what you think.”

Lilibet didn’t want to admit what she thought. Elvis’ dark features and clothing made his eyes stand out like never before. She was starting to grow tired of the ache permeating deep within her. 

“If you won’t come down, then I’ll come ta you,” Elvis waved a pointed finger, decided. 

He climbed the steps up to the second floor making Lilibet’s heart lurch in her chest. She put her near-empty glass aside on the closest table, smoothing her clothes. Lilibet had taken the advice of Morrow and Corinne to change her look to entice Elvis. Her usual plaits were undone to leave her hair in a stretched state down her back, kept out of her face with a thick headband. Wearing a halter top and a skirt felt out of her depth. As Elvis approached, she saw the hunger in his eyes she often tried to deny was there. Lilibet was emboldened by her cocktail and held eye contact even when he pressed a warm hand to her bare side. Even with her platform heels, Elvis towered over her. 

“My Rapunzel,” Elvis said sweetly, bringing his free hand up to brush at her hair. Lilibet shivered, both soon leaning into the wooden railing together. “What did ya think?”

“You’ve been holdin’ out on me is what I thought. I think you should be up in Nashville makin’ music and not breaking your back anymore.” Lilibet smiled, straightening to hold her hands on Elvis’ waist. For the first time, she was making a move and showing him she had the same level of interest. 

“Both songs make me think of you,” Elvis expressed openly. “Lil’ Bet, I can’t keep pretendin’ I don’t feel anything for you. That you make me want to do backflips. When you say jump, I would ask ‘How high?’. What do I have ta do to make you see that I wouldn’t hurt you? That’s it, right? You’re afraid that I wouldn’t do right by you.”

Lilibet wasn’t ready for the earful but it had to be heard. She bit down into her bottom lip, knowing Elvis had an inkling about her reservations. Since they had been spending time together, at some point she let it slip how her father was the kind of man she never wanted to attract. 

“I don’t know that you won’t hurt me,” Lilibet tilted her head.

“You don’t but you know me. You know where my heart is. Even when I get pissy and upset, I would never lay a hand on you,” Elvis breathed, the hand playing with her hair resting on the side of her neck. “I have fallen for you and if I gave a shit about what either of us looked like, I wouldn’t have bothered in the first place. So, what’s holdin’ you back? Do you not want me?”

“I do… I just want you to mean it. I also don’t want the Community Leaders to get involved in us. My mama would start gettin’ them involved and criticizing. Pressing you and it’s uncomfortable. I’ve seen how they try to get people to change and convert to their beliefs.” Lilibet searched his eyes, waiting for the pin to drop.

“I do mean it. I can handle a couple of hippies,” Elvis paused. “Free-thinkers, Lilibet. You’re a big girl and I’m a big boy. What I care about is whether you have feelings for me. Yes or no?”

“Yes,” Lilibet sighed, the weight of it falling away. 

Elvis said nothing as he lowered his head, allowing Lilibet a chance to pull away if she wanted. His lips were plush against hers, leaving the skin there buzzing. Lilibet let a whimper out as Elvis parted her lips with a slip of tongue to deepen the kiss. How had she gone months without kissing him? Lilibet fisted Elvis’ dress shirt, pulling him closer as he cradled her face between his large hands. She was scared because she knew she was falling for Elvis, too, if she hadn’t already. Elvis broke away first, his thumbs swiping affectionately along her cheeks.

“I love you,” he whispered. “And whenever you’re ready to love me, I will be here for you.”

Lilibet swallowed past the forming lump in her throat as she caught her breath. 

“What does that mean for us?” Lilibet asked slowly.

“Whatever you want it to mean. Besides, honey, you can’t shoot me down when Spot and I have a date tomorrow,” Elvis grinned.

“Oh, is that what it is? Wanting to keep your relationship with Spot ongoing. I see through your game,” Lilibet laughed, her eyes crinkling at their corners.

“Well, you haven’t run for the hills yet.”

“Good point. I don’t think I will,” Lilibet said. Elvis nodded in obvious amusement before his eyes dropped below then landed on the jukebox.

“Dance with me?” Elvis asked, his eyes landing on her again.

“I would love to,” Lilibet agreed easily, the light in her eyes remaining for the rest of the evening.

Sunday morning was an attack on Lilibet’s senses. Not because she drank too much, but it was too early after a long night of dancing and drinking and the loud, blaring buzzer of her alarm was deplorable. Elvis was the perfect gentleman with no expectations or implications dropping her off at home. Lilibet thought he was with a group of people but somehow managed to pull off being alone with her. In her weariness, she still mustered the courage to lock lips with Elvis and bid him a good night. Having sex with him would not involve her mother being under the same roof. 

She dragged herself out of bed to look somewhat presentable, opting for overalls with a T-shirt, boots (of course), and a bandanna to keep the morning dew from frizzing up her hair—either way, her braided, signature pigtails did most of the work. Lilibet replayed the weight of Elvis’ hands all over her, tempted but tame. He would kiss her bare shoulder as they danced, holding one of her hands close to his chest as they swayed. When there was just enough space between them, he would look her straight in the eye and smile like he had all the time in the world. Lilibet had been keeping the most obvious secret close to her chest and now it was out. Elvis was the reason she could drag herself out of bed and feel proud to spend her time wisely. 

Her beliefs and belief system began to slip, its woven web in her life losing value and meaning. When she thought about the commune, she supposed it was because she knew it was a cult. The benefits were held over everyone’s head like a weighted blanket. When you were comfortable, it felt amazing. When someone didn’t expect it, how suffocating and calamitous it felt. But they saved her, her sisters, and her mama, so they owed them their lives or some semblance. Lilibet didn’t know anything about being on her own except she needed money. That was why she worked for Mr. Parker in the first place. She meant to explain to her family that she wanted to be on her own, but she was still working on that part.

 Lilibet was seated on the front step, chewing at the skin of her bottom lip when Elvis drove up. He parked a ways back so the dust wouldn’t kick up from the wheels. He looked like his usual self, freshly washed jet black hair tucked away under a cowboy hat, worn jeans, and a carton of eggs in hand. Elvis smiled, bleary-eyed and looking as tired as she felt. Lilibet pushed onto her feet, wanting to cave into the idea that they return to bed. They were adults and she liked to believe that they were capable of only sleeping. 

“What’s this?” Lilibet gestured toward the carton.

“The quickest gift I could find on short notice,” Elvis explained, handing the carton to her. 

“You didn’t have to—”

“I did. These are without a favor being needed or obligation. So, what’s on the agenda today?” Elvis rubbed his palms together. His eyes wandered over to the landscape, some friendly faces milling. 

“Do you want to come inside?” Lilibet asked on a whim. Elvis’ head snapped back to her, his eyes momentarily going wide. Though he was in his late twenties, he looked more boyish than she had ever seen in his shocked state. 

“Inside… To your bedroom? That I’ve only seen once under dire circumstances?” Elvis stammered.

“Are you ‘fraid a little girl is gonna bite you?” Lilibet teased.

“Your mama won’t shoot me, will she?” Elvis gave her a look that told her to zip it. 

“The plan is the chapel down the road, but service doesn’t start for another few hours. So, our options are slim. I think I would like to lie down in bed again for a few more hours,” her lips twitched into an unwanted smirk. “If that’s alright with you?”

“Mm,” Elvis cleared his throat. “Y-Yeah, it’s alright with me if it’s alright with you, honey. Whatever you want. Church will be good. I haven’t been in a long time.”

“Well,” Lilibet said as she turned for the front door. “Hold your horses and you’ll tell me what you think. It’s still all a part of you understandin’ this place. I remember church as a girl, you know.”

The two of them stepped inside the house and Lilibet moved a little quieter. The floorboards creaked under their weight as they shuffled in. Lilibet stepped out of her boots, curling a finger for Elvis to follow her to the kitchen to put the eggs away on the counter.

“You still are a little girl,” Elvis huffed.

“You know what I mean,” Lilibet sucked her teeth, brushing past Elvis. He grabbed her arm and quickly loosened his hold.

“Nothin’ they do or say can scare me much. I’ll take it in stride.” Elvis dismissed.

“Good. You’ll see, but,” Lilibet lowered her voice. “For now, stop stompin’ ‘round and take off your boots.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Elvis agreed, dropping his head to steal a kiss. 

There went that fluttering in Lilibet’s chest again. She wanted to chase it as Elvis stepped away, his footsteps much lighter before shucking off his boots. He held them in one hand, thinking better than to leave a pair of unaccounted men’s boots at the door. Lilibet led the way upstairs, knowing every whine and screech the steps would make depending on where she stepped. She was grateful her bedroom was the closest to the stairs, and once Elvis followed in after her past the threshold, she shut the door with a click and turned the lock. Exhaling slowly, she undid the hook of her overalls on one side and the next. Elvis set his boots down at the end of the bed, walking around to the opposite side to sit. His hat followed, leaving it to hang on the post of the bed frame. Lilibet wondered how he managed to look as sure and confident in everything he did. 

“I’m gonna change back into my pajama shorts. Don’t look,” Lilibet warned. Elvis had yet to turn to look at her since he sat down on the bed.

“I won’t. I’m not.” Elvis answered plainly.

Lilibet was quick, relieved to be out of the material and in something silkier. She left her bandanna in place out of laziness as she climbed into bed beneath the covers. The two of them would fill her full mattress when she took up one side of it as it was. 

“Can I look now? And… If I’m honest, I don’t wanna wear my outside clothes in your clean bed,” Elvis said over his shoulder.

“You can look, I’m decent,” Lilibet whispered. “You can take off what you’re comfortable with. I hate not bein’ able to sleep because of somethin’ I have on.” 

She caught sight of Elvis’ raised brow and smiled. Elvis turned just enough to look at Lilibet before hooking a finger into one sock, then the other. She watched for the first time as Elvis stripped down in front of her. He stood up to pull his pants off, folding them haphazardly into a makeshift pile beside the bed. 

“Should I take off my shirt?” Elvis asked politely, turning to face her. Lilibet found it difficult to keep her focus on the more appropriate places. His hands were paused at the highest button, waiting for her response. She shut her mouth when she realized she was staring and poorly shrugged off the question.

“Whatever you’re comfortable with.”

ELVIS

Lilibet’s poor, virgin heart. She was adorable and the problem was he liked to make her squirm. Could he sleep in his clothes if he had to? Sure, but he wouldn’t miss the chance to be close to her. He kept his shirt on because he was sure Lilibet would burst into flames if he bared any more skin. Elvis kept his eyes on her while he watched hers dart down then up and back again. He liked it, he liked knowing she was looking and that she wanted him. He slid underneath the covers, lifting his arm to coax her to his side. Lilibet pressed into him, her limbs spilling over him as the mattress accommodated the extra body. He thought he was warm, but Lilibet was a human space heater working overtime.

“Should I open a window?” Elvis rumbled, his fingertips rubbing up and down on the arm on his chest. 

“No, no, this is okay,” Lilibet squeaked. 

She was soft and always warm. Lilibet always smelled like mint and rosemary. Being as close as she was, he could smell it in her hair as if she used some kind of organic shampoo. Elvis couldn’t have been happier despite the tension ongoing at the farm. Not a single cow had been lost since he confronted Lilibet but there were losses. Most of the cattle they could wrangle back and some were attacked by predators out in the woods. Sonny told him they were looking to convict whoever the perpetrator was and he kept his mouth shut. The West family, he learned, could hold a grudge for as long as they still breathed. When he spoke to his mother on the phone, he vented to her honestly. She was one of the only people he could express frustrations or worries to. Naturally, she told him to do the right thing until he divulged that the woman he cared for was a part of it. 

“Life is never as simple as we want it to be,” his mother lectured.

And like always, she was right. 

That left Elvis with no straight answer and in Lilibet’s bed because he wanted to be. He thought he wanted ‘simple’ until he met her. Elvis hummed against her forehead, keeping his hands in appropriate places such as her back or arm. She looked tired considering he didn’t drop her off until about one in the morning. Lilibet didn’t say or move for a while, assuming she was asleep until he felt a curious hand inching toward his waistband. He shouldn’t have been hard for her as quickly but he was and he couldn’t get The Flamingos’ I Only Have Eyes For You song out of his head about her. Her touch was slightly clumsy getting there but God—he hissed as her grip found his cock. Anything she did to him could make him come. With a few months since he last felt a woman’s touch, he was ready to spring for Lilibet like an unexpected volcanic eruption. 

“Lil’ Bet,” he whispered.

“Mm?” she hummed innocently, her wrist rolling as she worked his length in her palm. 

“We can save this for another time if you want. We had a late night,” he bit out, his moans deep but soft above her. “I’ll make a mess… Work the tip a little bit, baby. Yeah, like that.” Elvis puffed out short breaths.

“Do you not like it?” Lilibet asked, disappointment in reach. 

“No—yes, honey, I do. Just… Use some spit on your hand,” Elvis breathed, opening his eyes. “I don’t want you to feel pressure to do  anything you don’t wanna do.”

“You’re not,” Lilibet answered, withdrawing her hand to spit into her palm. “It’s the first time I’ve gotten you to feel as flustered as I have.”

“You don’t know flustered, Lil’ Bet. Not yet.”

He meant it because there were things he wanted to do, to taste, and he planned to show Lilibet the greener grass himself. Instead, Lilibet had taken him by surprise with her exploration and he found fucking into her wet hand equally enjoyable. He kept his desires in check, concerned he could scare her if he turned himself loose. Elvis had long since given up on keeping his eyes open, working his way into Lilibet’s space by nuzzling her neck and the underside of her jaw to leave kisses in his wake. 

“Can I touch you?” He asked. Lilibet pressed back into the shared pillow, Elvis leaning back to gauge her reaction. She sucked him in with her big brown eyes, their almond shape half-lidded. Elvis’ cock twitched in her hand at the sight of her and she nodded in agreement. He moved onto his side and slid a hand beneath the hem of her shirt. “Kiss me,” Elvis pleaded.

She didn’t need any more encouragement. Lilibet shivered at the touch of his cool fingers sliding up and over her chest, squeezing and massaging at her breast as they kissed. Lilibet’s hand still worked around him until he touched her wrist and pulled it away. He needed to focus on her alone without the distraction. Lilibet felt herself whining as he moved over her, pulling her over by her waist to the middle of the bed. The covers were on his back, creating a slight cavern of warmth around Lilibet. He wanted to devour her but he knew every step was a risky one he couldn’t turn back from. Hell, he didn’t even have a condom on hand.

Elvis moved between her legs for the sake of room, brushing them aside with his bare thighs. He pressed kiss after kiss to her stomach and only lifted his head to push it back into the palms in his hair. His hands slid underneath her to unclasp her bra and as he did he heard the familiar sound of footsteps in the hall. Elvis steeled himself above Lilibet and she followed suit. He could feel her heartbeat thrumming wildly beneath the surface. A door clicked shut and he raised a brow at Lilibet.

“Bathroom,” she whispered.

“Do you wanna stop?” Elvis asked. He adjusted and lowered himself into Lilibet using his forearms. The fabric of his boxers and her shorts were the only things hindering direct contact. While he enjoyed the slight roll of his hips against her, he left it up to Lilibet to decide.

“I never thought my first time would be…panicked,” she admitted.

“It doesn’t have to be right now. I won’t enjoy any part of it if you dislike what’s happening. Okay? We can try some other time.” Elvis said. His brow crinkled as he waited for her reaction to sense some sort of calm from her. When she sighed and met his eyes, he felt some relief. 

“Can we just sleep ‘til then?” Lilibet asked softly. 

“Yeah, honey, whatever you want.” Elvis nodded, moving from between her legs behind her. He gathered her to his chest as she wiggled back into him and he did everything in his power to will his hard-on away. 

Elvis hardly slept at all for the next hour and a half. Lilibet woke with a start in his arms, reaching clumsily for her bedside clock for the time. She sighed and sunk back into the mattress and his arms. 

“Wasn’t gonna let you oversleep,” Elvis mumbled, sliding a hand down to the side of her thigh.

“Just makin’ sure. We should probably get goin’ before everyone wakes up.”

Elvis wanted to deny her that much when he never got to hold Lilibet that way before. He was warm and she was pliant under his touch. The day where she held no tension in her shoulders around him had come. Without another word, Elvis withdrew and moved to sit up on his side of the bed. He rolled his shoulders and leaned his head from left to right. The only sound came from the jingle of his belt and its buckle as he stood up to pull his pants back on.

“Are you disappointed in me?” Lilibet asked hesitantly. Elvis furrowed his brow as he turned to look at her and tucked his shirt back into his pants. 

“No, honey, why would you ask me that?”

“Because you didn’t get to finish and I got nervous, so…” Lilibet trailed off, looking away from him. Elvis made a sound with his tongue as he walked around to her side of the bed and caught her chin with a calloused hand.

“I’m a grown man, honey, I don’t need to force myself onto you. Hell, what kinda man would that make me? When the time is right, it will happen. That’s not right now. Come on, let’s get you up. I’ll wait outside for you while you get yourself together.” 

Elvis made his way back downstairs with his boots and hat in hand after Lilibet went first, tiptoeing toward the bathroom in the hall. He didn’t put his boots on until he was outside again and able to exhale deeply. The dirt moved beneath his shoes, scattering as he approached the truck and reached inside for a discarded cigarillo. He pried a matchbook from his front pocket and struck one to light the end. Leaning into the truck, he waved the match to put out the fire, toking at it as he looked up to where one of Lilibet’s bedroom windows would be. 

With the farm growing wary of the townspeople, he could feel the pressure rising. Someone had to be held responsible for their losses. Something told him if she knew he reported her friends, she might end things with him then and there. He sighed, letting his eyes drop as he flicked the ash from his cigarillo with his thumb. When Lilibet stepped out, refreshed, and smiling at him he thought maybe he was ready to find a new religion in her. Not because they were attending her hippie church but because he would kiss the ground she walked on. 

“Ready Freddy?” Elvis grinned, bending down to stub out his cigarillo. 

“Ready,” she called from the deck. 

They walked in a comfortable silence. At least, to Elvis, it was comfortable. He wondered if he should press the issue with Lilibet on whether she was content with how far things went. He learned from the past that she could have a million thoughts racing and cover it well with a mask. Their shoulders bumped together as always and Elvis took it upon himself to hold her hand. Lilibet looked at him, showing how little she expected of him as the surprise crossed her face. He squeezed her hand, his eyes softening as he looked at her. Lilibet brought her other hand over the ball their hands created and led the rest of the way into the chapel. Elvis plucked his hat from his head with his free hand.

The building was far nicer than Elvis imagined. From the outside, he believed it was a simple wooden chapel that the wind could blow over. Inside were lacquered wooden beams upholding the high A-frame and windows up high that allowed beams of sunlight to hit patrons. The back wall didn’t have the typical daunting image of Jesus crucified but simply a large, hand-carved white cross and rich purple drapes on either side. Lilibet soon tugged him toward an empty pew. By the looks of it, they were undoubtedly early. 

“My mother and sisters will join us. Make sure you leave some room,” Lilibet commented as she sat in the end corner.

The second he was moving to sit next to Lilibet, a short and stocky man was gunning it in his direction. Elvis’ legs brushed Lilibet’s as he scooted past her and placed his hat on the pew in preparation for introductions.

“Who’s this comin’ up, honey?” Elvis whispered.

“Who?” Lilibet turned her head to see who he was speaking about then cursed. “That’s Joe. He’s one of the Community Leaders.” She said sourly.

“It’s not often we get a new face that comes around. Joe Esposito,” Joe proffered a hand to Elvis. “One of the Community Leaders here in The Haven.” 

“Nice to meet you. I’m Elvis Presley. Usually, I’m on the West Family Farm workin’,” Elvis offered, taking the hand in front of him to shake. 

“What’s got you all the way out here?” Joe raised a brow, releasing Elvis’ hand. The implication was laced with plenty of unsaid suggestions. Either way, it left an unsettling feeling in Elvis’ belly. 

“I could ask the same. You sound like you’re from the Northeast. I like to see what my girl gets up to,” Elvis said. 

Lilibet stood then, clasping her hands together in front of her. She was wearing the same thing as she had been earlier which made Elvis look around—no one person dressed alike. Even Joe was dressed up, opposite to some of his community members. 

“And that’s all. He’s not lookin’ to join us in the community,” Lilibet interjected. 

“I’m only being friendly to your company, Lilibet,” Joe playfully scolded though his eyes told another story.

“Of course,” Lilibet said with the same glimmer of disdain. 

“Well, it was nice to meet you, sir. I’m sure we’ll get to speak after the service.” Elvis tipped his head, a silent dismissal.

“Nice meetin’ you, too, Elvis,” Joe said, leaving them alone again. 

Elvis’ eyes tracked him until he was far enough away and they were sitting. He stretched his arm out behind Lilibet’s shoulders and tried to catch her gaze. 

“What was that about?” Elvis mumbled.

“He’s a creep. I remember when I was younger, he just had this air about him. I didn’t like how he spoke to me like I was being served on a platter. Besides… I didn’t know if you still wanted to speak to one of the Community Leaders about everything. It’s your right and I’m no one to stop you from revealin’ the truth.” Lilibet said tersely.

“Lil’ Bet,” he spoke sweetly. “I’m not lookin’ to hurt you. While I don’t like seein’ the Wests stressed out about their losses, they can recover. I pride myself on right and wrong, I know I would be hurtin’ you in the process.”

“So… You’ve decided not to say anything?” Lilibet asked.

“I have and I want you to trust me. I won’t tell anyone about what happened,” Elvis grabbed one of her hands, brushing his lips against her knuckles. “Good?”

Lilibet nodded. The worst was yet to come. Normally, courting a girl meant he encountered her parents sooner rather than later. They were behind schedule and there he was, an outsider, courting a young woman severely enthralled by a religious sect. Elvis didn’t often let things get to him but when he sat back and realized where he was, he felt like a lamb waiting for slaughter. 

His attention was focused on the abhorrently gargantuan cross when Lilibet bumped her arm into him and he looked confused before seeing three ladies standing beside the pew. They all had their mother’s face, so there was no mistaking who they were. Lilibet’s mother, Ada, stood tall and proud on a similar thin frame and dressed up as others of her generation would be to the nines. She held the handle of her small purse in her hands as she waited for an introduction. Lillian, the middle child, looked at Elvis with familiarity and a half-smirk. Addie, the youngest and no more than eight years old, didn’t have much of a clue what was going on. Both sisters were dressed similarly to Lilibet in that their mother didn’t force them to wear anything other than what they were comfortable in. Elvis sprung up and Lilibet followed to make room.

“Mrs. Stevens, it’s good to meet you finally. Formally,” Elvis said, proffering a hand.

“I didn’t know we would be havin’ company here at church. It’s nice to see you again. Elvis, was it?” Ada took his hand, their hand-hold gentle. Their hands fell apart seconds later.

“Yes, ma’am. Elvis Presley and you two must be Lillian and Addie. It’s nice to meet you both. Your sister talks highly of you two. I’ve always wanted a sibling,” Elvis smiled warmly. 

“Is he your boyfriend?” Addie piped up, staring at her eldest sister. Lilibet’s brows shot up as she looked between the three of them. Lillian was laughing.

“Addie,” Lilibet blushed. She gestured for Elvis to move down and he picked up his hat. Ada sat on the end with Addie next to her, then Lillian next to Lilibet. 

“She does have a crush on me,” Elvis leaned forward and whispered conspiratorially to the youngest. Addie gasped and laughed. Lilibet bumped his arm and Elvis quickly feigned an injury, rubbing at the spot. Individuals moved behind the pulpit as people took their seats. An older gentleman with long, graying hair and a goatee to match braced his hands on the stand.

“We’re going to be a little delayed here this morning. We’ve got Sheriff Schilling from the town outside wantin’ to ask some questions. As you all may have heard, the West Family Farm had some of their animals go missin’,” the man explained and promptly held up his hands as people began murmuring. “No one is pointin’ the finger at anyone. But please give Sheriff Schilling the respect he deserves for the next hour.” 

Elvis’ dark brows came together and Lilibet looked at him, the fear in her eyes obvious. He pursed his lips and moved to stand, excusing himself with his hat in hand past the ladies. 

“I’ll be right back,” Elvis muttered. His hat was on his head before he stepped outside and found the Sheriff, Sonny, and Red standing there. “What the hell is goin’ on, Sonny?”

“The Sheriff said someone in town gave a tip that this hippie retreat might have been behind our troubles,” Sonny said.

“Yeah, E, we didn’t just come to this conclusion ourselves,” Red shrugged, his thumbs hooked on his belt loops.

“This is embarrassin’ the hell outta me. Lilibet just introduced me to her mother and sisters. They haven’t even started their church service. Can’t you come back later?” Elvis frowned, scanning their faces for a modicum of empathy.

“No can do,” Sheriff Schilling said. “If a crime was committed, I have to investigate it. We’re looking at either a misdemeanor or felony for trespassing, theft, and possible restitution for losses. One of my deputies is on his way now to help speed up the process but there’s nothing else I can do.” 

Elvis bit down on the inside of his cheek, letting his anger simmer. Who could have possibly known to point the finger in Lilibet’s direction? He bore his hands down onto his hips and stepped aside from the doors, picturing his Lilibet in handcuffs. Something in his chest stirred as he began devising a backup plan; one where he would convince her to skip town if he needed to. 

Shit. 

[shefanispeculator]

Blake Shelton has been in the music industry for over twenty years now and he’s seen the times change. We interviewed him not long ago, and he talked about fans buying his music and he is fine with however they do it these days.

Blake told me, “I don’t care how people buy music as long as they’re interested enough to buy it.” (Boring music business stuff) I just want to make music, and perform it, and write it. It doesn’t make me or break me as far as how people get their hands on it as long as they want it is all I care about cause I know they will find a way to get it.”

He added, “There’s an old saying that used to go around Nashville, and I hated it. God, I hated it. I don’t hear it much anymore, but I used to hear these old guys that used to be in powder say, people don’t know what they like they like what they know, and they’re gonna buy whatever we release. I thought that was the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard in my life.”

Shelton revealed in a recent interview what his album plans are as he recently released a new song called “Texas.” He said, “I bet you next month (January), I’ll know when the album date is gonna be.”

As Blake shares, the project depends on what his new song does on country radio. He noted that the “truth is” his new record label will “probably gonna wait” and see what happens with this song. He added that then “they’ll probably start the clock.”

As for his recording career, it will last for quite a while. He said, “I’ll tell ya this. I have some things cut, but I’m gonna keep recording until they tell me time’s up.”

[hauntedwizardmoment]

You have to write the proposal I’m BEGGING 🤧🙏

so i definitely got carried away with this.

light of the love that i found

1.2k, fluff, light angst, happy ending, sometimes jace gets treated niceys

When Jace Teleports into his classroom on Friday, there’s a box on his desk. It’s ornate and weighty, carved out of solid wood and engraved with delicate looping vines and flowers. Another one of Porter’s gifts. 

It’s one of the little things Porter’s been doing lately, leaving him presents after they fight. Last week it was a new set of gem-infused inks in every color, after they’d screamed at each other for twenty minutes after a few lighthearted jabs boiled over. A month ago, when Jace had threatened to walk out of their plan entirely, he’d found a new leatherbound sketchbook in their bedroom, filled with sturdy paper that could withstand anything he’d put it through. 

He hates the way it works. It shouldn’t be this easy to win him over with a couple of trinkets. But sorcery is an expensive profession, and teaching it moreso, even with the school providing a fund for material components and spellbooks. The thought of Porter, who can’t even cast a simple Prestidigitation, tracking down wood from a tree struck by lightning just to apologize, makes him melt despite himself.

He chills again, though, at the memory of last night. They’d flung every insult they could at each other, every secret confessed turned into a knife to lodge in each others’ flesh and twist. He opens the box hesitantly, expecting pearls or diamonds, something extravagant to make up for it, but instead finds a piece of cardstock nestled into the crushed velvet lining. Turning it over reveals a message. 

Remember our spot? Meet me there, at our usual time. 

A clearing in the Far Haven Woods, where they used to sneak away after work and watch the sun set and stars rise with a bottle of wine. Of course he remembers it. Back when life was easier, their schedules not filled to the brim with ambrosia and Devil’s Honey and hazardous spellcraft. 

The bell rings, students trickling in, and he shoves the box into one of the larger drawers in his desk. Porter’s planning something, clearly, and it should make him nervous. Instead, there’s a buzz under his skin, excitement mixing with anticipation. 

“Hey Jace, can we have class outside today?” A freshman asks, before he’s even had a chance to take attendance. 

He sighs. Today’s going to be a long day. 

---

Long day ends up being the understatement of an eon.  

The artificer class across the hall is doing something loud and obnoxious with their arcanotech that has all of his jumpiest underclassmen on a hair trigger. Before he knows it, he’s got eight new Surge Incident Reports to fill out, and it’s barely noon.But there’s no time to do that during his planning period, because Lucilla gets a bad case of nausea and needs someone to cover her class and he’s the only one available. 

Mercifully, his seniors are able to work on their portfolios independently, so he can catch up on all the grading he’s missed while working on The Plan, but just as he’s about to head out to meet Porter, a parent walks into his classroom, and he cannot believe he forgot he scheduled a parent-teacher conference today of all days. 

By the time he finally leaves work, it’s 6:04 PM, the November air cool against his skin but not helping with the beginnings of his migraine. He hates talking to parents, especially the ones that like to yell when their children don’t earn As just for showing up. By the time Ken Morilinde finishes his tirade and Jace can head out to the woods, the sun’s already making its descent downwards.

Finally, though, he’s at their clearing. It’s just like he remembers it: the overgrown path giving way to a patch of grass and low-lying ferns next to a small stream. Porter’s waiting for him, a checkered blanket spread out on the ground, wine uncorked with two glasses poured. At the sight of Jace, he grins. “Thought you weren’t gonna show. Had me thinking I pissed you off for good.” 

“Work sucked today,” Jace complains, sitting on the blanket and downing a large sip of wine.  “When you’re a god, promise me you’ll destroy the Morilindes. Or at least put a curse on their family for ten generations.” 

“Consider it on the list. Don’t think about that now, though, I need to talk to you. And you need to take it seriously.” 

This isn’t what he thought he was walking into. Jace finishes his glass, pours another one. “Well, that’s ominous. Spit it out, then.” 

“You like this, right? Us, together?” Porter asks him, taking his hand, running his thumb over Jace’s knuckles. The skin there is red and angry from a student’s accidental Shocking Grasp, threatening to split. Porter presses his lips to the wound in a kiss, Lays on Hands until it heals. “I know we’ve had our disagreements, but… I wouldn’t trade this for anything.”

He’s thrown for a loop at the question, Porter’s sudden gentleness making him lightheaded. Isn’t it obvious? “You know I could kill you if I wanted to, right? Of course I like this.” The next words out of his mouth are too honest, but it comes out before he can stop himself. “I wouldn’t trade this for anything, either.” 

Porter laughs, genuine and lovely. “That’s what I love about you, bunny. Always so bloodthirsty.” 

“Creep.” 

“You’re not denying it?” 

Why would he? He doesn’t need to pretend to be Chill Jace, Friendly Jace, Helpful Jace with Porter. “Is that all you wanted to talk about?” He leans back against a tree trunk, tips his head up to watch the sky shift from orange to purple-pink. 

“One more thing. Close your eyes for me?” Porter asks, and he does so without question. The combination of being pleasantly tipsy and the atmosphere - distant owl calls, the sound of rushing water, the last fireflies of the year flickering - does wonders for his mood, his terrible day at work nearly forgotten. He could fall asleep like this easily, but it only takes a few moments for Porter to say: “Okay, now look.” 

He opens his eyes to Porter holding out another box in the palm of his hand. It’s small, square, and covered in black velvet. He knows exactly what’s inside. 

“Porter…” 

“Open it.”

Porter hands it to him, and he does. The ring is gold, with small garnets inlaid around the entire circumference. On the inner surface of the band, he can see tiny engraved runes. “It’s beautiful.”

“Jace Stardiamond, will you make me the happiest man this side of the Celestine, and marry me?” 

All the arguments, all the nights of lost sleep, all the waiting and boredom and terrible days at work, all of it seems so small and insignificant now. He’s a dam full to burst; tears well up at the corner of his eyes. He tries to speak, but no words come. All he can do is nod, practically falling into Porter’s embrace as Porter kisses him, slipping the ring onto his finger deftly. The faint aura of protection settles over him, comforting and warm. 

“‘S that a yes?” Porter holds him still as they pull apart, looking at him intently.

“Gods, you’re stupid,” he sniffles, wiping away his tears. “Yes, it’s always been yes.” 

Porter kisses him again, and for a brief moment, everything feels right.