#or ‘we can have sex all day but that’s because the world hates me and I don’t want to leave my house’
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The Heart of a Bene Gesserit- Part Four//Paul Atreides//Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen
Warnings: cursing, smut, threesome, f and m receiving oral sex
“As a Bene Gesserit, I feel that it is my duty to see how you are being treated here. But please trust that I have no ulterior motives. I’m not wholly certain of the conditions of the slave quarters, but I’d like to find out.”
“Well, the food is shit, they give you just enough water to stay alive after being out in the scorching desert all day, and the beds here are hard and cold, but other than that, it is rather pleasing.” the biting sarcasm from the youngest Harkonnen was palpable.
“Mm-hmm.” you nodded, “I will speak to the Emperor, he needs to be more generous to the men who mind his spice. What you have is not enough.”
“That is very honorable of you…”
“Y/n.”
“Y/n.” he said your name, smiling and giving you a glimpse of his teeth. “But I fear that your suggestions will fall upon deaf ears. I cannot blame Atreides, if our roles were reversed, I'd have him enslaved as well, or I'd have just killed him. Our families have held hatred for one another for centuries, you should already know that."
“But he shouldn’t hate you, Feyd. You were just a boy, the same as Paul, when his father was killed. You were not a conspirator against the Atreides.”
“I have to ask: why are you lending yourself to my cause? Is it because Atreides has rejected your advances? Has he refused to give you the heir you were sent to acquire?” his dark eyes narrowed down at you, putting you on the spot.
You shook your head, “How did you know about the mission?”
Feyd-Rautha shrugged, “People talk. We don’t have much down here besides talk of spice. But the slaves have learned much about you, y/n.”
“Hm.” you huffed, “Well, you may know that I never did advance on Paul. He is my friend.”
“Friend? An Emperor has no friends, only followers.” he knew this to be true, as he was almost Emperor himself.
“Paul and I knew each other as children on Caladan.”
His non-existent brows raised up, he blinked slowly, “Oh, a childhood crush, is it?” he smirked.
You looked down, "I do not wish to speak of this."
"I suppose he rejected you, and now you're bored, so you're after the next best thing-"
"Silence!" you used the Voice.
Feyd's eyes closed, the movement of his mouth ceased against his will. "I see you've mastered the Voice."
"I am Bene Gesserit, of course I have. They do not let you graduate without doing so."
"I can also see that this is a sensitive topic for you, so I'll change the subject." Feyd slowly walked over toward the shadow edge of the roof. "I have a request for you, since Atreides won't likely show me any kindnesses."
You were intrigued, but also worried at what he could have wanted from you. "What is your request?"
"Get me off-world, back to Geidi Prime. Somewhere I can hide out from the Emperor."
"Feyd, he would kill you if he even knew you asked me that." youj warned.
"Precisely. Which is why he would never know."
You sighed, "You have given me much to consider, but I should be leaving. I have a feeling we are being watched by one of the servants."
Feyd gave you a smirk, "Well darling, if I knew we were being watched, I would have given them a show."
........
You left Feyd-Rautha and the slaves' quarters, returning to your wing of the House. You felt a little bit exhausted after your conversation with the Harkonnen and all the thoughts of Paul's reaction. You just wanted to sleep. You couldn't believe how quickly your life had come to revolve around two men.
You found yourself wrestling with thoughts of them both. You loved Paul Atreides, but there was something charming and also forbidden about his cousin Feyd. Were you attracted to the anti-Paul?
You took an afternoon nap, and your dreams became increasingly indecipherable from reality. First, there was Paul, your sweet Paul, his rich, dark curls falling in his face. The look of tenderness on his face warmed you up from the inside out. Then, the smooth, naked skin of Feyd-Rautha, his piercing eyes sending chills all down your body.
In this dream, you were in bed. Were they, taking turns with you? Feyd was waiting patiently by the bed, while Paul was kissing you all over. You were naked and breathless, trembling, even.
Paul had moved his face between your legs, flicking his Fremen blue eyes up at you. He started to lap his tongue between your folds. But it seemed that Feyd was having a difficult time only watching. As Paul sucked at the tiny bundle above your opening, you felt the bed sink at your side.
Feyd placed his big hand on your head, smoothing your hair back. He traced his fingers along your face, trailing down your chin, your chest, all to cup your breast in his hand. You gasped as he pinched your nipple.
Paul nibbled and kissed your inner thighs and rubbed your clit with his fingers.
You noticed Feyd's other hand at his waistband, and he pulled his pants down. Your eyes met his pale, veiny cock as he brought it to your lips. You opened your mouth, obediently, inviting his length. You moistened him with your saliva, sucking as best as you could.
Paul was moving up your body, his lips traveling along your stomach. He too, cupped your breast. Each man held your breasts, and your nipples hardened against their palms.
Paul's face was now close to yours as you had Feyd's cock in your mouth. He watched you, adjusted his body between your legs. You could then feel the tip of his cock prodding at your wet entrance.
You were then in a horny daze as you were abruptly woken by a servant barging into your bedroom.
"Sorry to wake you, my lady, but it is time for dinner."
"Who gave you the right to barge into my room while I'm sleeping?" you barked, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes.
"Well, His Majesty, the Emperor, does, my lady."
You rolled your eyes, "Of course he does."
…….
That evening at dinner, you didn’t sit next to Paul, you didn’t talk to him, you didn’t even look at him. You wanted him to feel your absence, your neglect of him. He had been cold and rude toward you, so why should you warm up to him?
As you ate, you looked over at Gurney Halleck, sensing something about him. You were nearly positive you were being watched with Feyd-Rautha earlier. Gurney was behind it, you were certain. But why? Was it Gurney acting alone in his suspicion of you? Or did Paul put this into place?
As the meal ended, you made it a point to get up from your chair and simply head back to your room, without trading words or even a glance with Paul. No Bene Gesserit tricks, as you promised. You would get him to come to you, if he so wished, the natural way. Deprivation.
It was nary a moment after you closed your bedroom door before there was a knock. You knew who it was. You opened the door, “Paul.”
“Y/n.” said the Emperor. “Are you alright? I heard you spent the whole afternoon in your room. You did not come to council. Are you ill?”
“No, I am not ill. You should not bother yourself with worry about me, Paul Atreides. You have much more important duties.”
“You know you are important to me.” he said, resting his hand on the door frame. “You are my one true friend. As long as you are alive, I will care for you. That is all this is.”
“A true friend? Is that why you sent a spy for me?”
@gatoenlaciudad @thebetawolfgirl @musicandbooksaremyhappyplace @softhecreator @tchalamss @lixzey @bitchyunknownuser @ducktapebar @aoi-targaryen @yukideadinside @elloise0 @thatoneweirdgirl17 @mel-vaz @sammy-halpert @iwishchalamet @that-one-fangirl69 @jindongdongie @briefkittenearthquake
#timothée chalamet#timmy chalamet#timothée imagine#timothee x reader#timothee chalamet smut#dune part two#paul atreides smut#paul atreides x reader#feyd x reader#feyd rautha#paul atreides
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Is “So High School” the first time she’s written about someone getting her off that doesn’t involve a caveat? 😏
(I mean beyond “tell your friends to get their own house”)
#I’m kidding#but not lol#it’s not like ‘I love when you go down on me but we’re sad!’#or ‘I want you to ravage me but we have to do it in secret because reasons!’#or ‘we can have sex all day but that’s because the world hates me and I don’t want to leave my house’#or ‘I already know this isn’t going to work but he’s hot so yolo’#etc#this one is like ‘the only problem is I DO NOT WANT TO BE QUIET SO#LOSE THE ROOMIES’
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surely in a game with this MUCH content and dialogue and such a variety of options you could make it possible to respond to astarion's relationship-establishing scene in act 2 with "okay then let's make our relationship not about sex, open that up and not worry about it, and I'll show you that I care about and am devoted to you for other reasons." surely you could do that. surely that would make the most sense
#'oh we'll have sex when you're ready and remain in a traditional monogamous relationship until then'#BITCH what about 'we can have sex if you want to some day but that's not the point of our relationship. i can get sex anywhere#but all the sex in the world with others won't make me desire you in my life less because sex is not why i like you.'#fuck right off i thought this game was going to make people consider other options than monogamous traditional romance!!! i hate it here!!!
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translation
Aventurine doesn't like being understood, but he does like understanding other people. It is essential for manipulation, for scheming, for control. And he likes controlling you especially—for keeping you close but your heart a comfortable distance away, for opening your legs when he wants the pleasure of your body, for playing your emotions however he needs. And the day will come when that skill will be invaluable—the day when he must die without shattering you.
(Or: You are the only person in the universe who understands Aventurine in his mother tongue. He often regrets teaching it to you.)
5k words. gender neutral reader, established relationship, angst, non-graphic sex (reader bottoms, anatomy neutral), themes of cultural loss, references to slavery, aventurine’s canonically implied desire to die. MDNI.
Aventurine cannot lie in Avgin.
Deception does not come easily to him in his mother tongue. His command of it is too weak—and too kind. The universe was a different place in the days when his life was coloured by the warble of Avgin dialect. It felt simpler, partly because he was a child and partly because Sigonia was yet untouched by outsiders. There were no corporations, no casinos, no commodity codes. His entire world was sand, desert, mother, sister, father (or more often—ghost), goddess, tent, wagon, luck, sin, rain, blessing, Avgin.
Katican.
Aventurine is sure that he knew more than just those words. He was fluent as a child. He had conversations with his sister that were complex enough to make his heart hurt, though perhaps his heart was just constantly aching anyway. But the rest of his early words escapes him. He could maybe dredge them up if he thinks long enough, but he also isn't sure if his tongue and lips could form the shape of them anymore. Sometimes he still counts in Avgin, memorises phone numbers in it, but he doesn’t remember the last time he actually strung together a full sentence in the language.
When Aventurine was first stolen into slavery (a word that he had not known as a child, and still doesn't know in Avgin), he wasn’t given a Synesthesia Beacon. He had to rely on his ears and his wits, deciphering the harsh edges of the Katican dialect and then the strange garble of Interastral Standard Language. By the time he had a Beacon installed, it was already translating all speech into Standard—his dominant language.
Sometimes he feels a little aggrieved by it, but at least it wasn't Katican. He'd have blown out his brains if it were.
But it is easy to console himself: Avgin is not a useful language anyway. Dead languages have no value, and the Avgin dialect was killed along with its people. You can’t perform commerce in a dead language, can't negotiate contracts, can't enter a gambling den and use your silver tongue to rob people blind. You can't use a dead language to fell governments and extract resources; you can't use a dead language to bring an entire planet to its knees. You can’t use a dead language to gamble your life; you can't use it to save yourself from the gallows.
You cannot deceive people in a language that is defined by sand, sister, goddess, ghost.
Aventurine cannot lie in Avgin. His command of it is too weak, and there is no one left to which he can lie, anyway.
When you ask Aventurine to teach you his first language, he gives you an amused look.
“Why Avgin?” he asks. “No one speaks it anymore. I can teach you Common Sigonian if you’d like. Or we could learn Xianzhounese together. Maybe Intellitron code? I know a little.”
“You speak Avgin,” you argue.
“Not often,” he says. “And badly when I do.”
“But it's still your language. And I want to understand you.”
Aventurine has to stop himself from laughing. Understand him? He hates being understood. When people understand him, it makes him predictable. And unlikeable. Hardly a position from which he can manipulate people in.
You understand him well enough to know that.
“You'll have to give me a better reason than that,” he says neatly. “Make it worth my while. Reward me.”
You look at him as you ponder, your eyes lingering on his. Perhaps trying to read him, though he prefers to think you're just enjoying the sight of them.
“I’ll teach you my language as well?”
“You mean—you'll reward my hard labour with more work?” he says, lighthearted.
You frown at him despite the joke. “You don't want to understand me better than what a Synesthesia Beacon would allow?” He blinks, pausing. “It’ll be convenient too. We can talk shit about other people in public and no one will understand us.”
Aventurine considers you. He doesn't like being understood, but he does like understanding other people. It is essential for manipulation, for scheming, for control. And he likes controlling you especially—for keeping you close but your heart a comfortable distance away, for opening your legs when he wants the pleasure of your body, for playing your emotions however he needs. And the day will come when that skill will be invaluable—the day when he must die without shattering you.
He also likes the idea of talking shit in public.
“I'm listening,” he says, voice lilting. You lean in, smiling. Sweet. It makes his heart feel something he isn't used to. Something addictive. Something disgusting. He scrambles to cover it with one of the usual tools: humour or distraction or maybe just plain old lying—his most reliable weapon.
“I'll throw in a kiss?” you try.
He hums. “Just one?”
“One per day.”
“Three.”
“You drive a hard bargain.”
“Well, I am a businessman.”
You snort, but he knows you're endeared. You have very noticeable tells when you’re flustered.
“Okay,” you say. “Three kisses on days you teach me.”
“Deal.”
Aventurine remembers more Avgin than he thought he would.
It comes to him slowly, painstakingly. You aren't interested in structured lessons, and he wouldn't be able to provide them anyway. He has a nonexistent grasp of grammar aside from this sounds right and that sounds strange, and Avgin dialect is both so niche and so dead that no textbooks are available. The scholars have abandoned the language as much as the politicians abandoned its people. Aventurine only has you, his fragmented memory, and whatever questions come to mind as you live out your days with him.
Mostly, you ask him about basic vocabulary. Sometimes you ask him to repeat sentences from your conversations in Avgin, like he’s some kind of multilingual parrot. Each prompt forces him to wade through the fog in his mind, the one that’s been shrouding his childhood memories until now. He's startled at how naturally the old words roll off his tongue: One, two, three, four. Good morning. Good evening. Good night. Sweet dreams. Five, six, seven, eight. You're lying to me. Why do you always lie to me? I don't know what you're talking about. Nine, ten, eleven, twelve. Welcome home. Have you eaten? Have some bread. I made you stew. Twenty, thirty, forty, fifty. That was dangerous. I thought you wouldn't make it back to me. Sometimes I think you want to die. One hundred, one thousand, one million, one billion. I'm sorry. Come here. Let me kiss you. Don't cry. Don't cry. Don't cry.
When you say, How do I ask you to let me hold you, he answers easily. He'd heard the words so often as a child: Let me hold you, Kakavasha. Let Mama hold you. His mouth forms the sounds without conscious thought.
He regrets it almost immediately.
When Aventurine hears it from you—stilted, halting, but no less gentle—he stops breathing. Let me hold you. You say it all the time in Standard, but it feels different in Avgin. More painful. A strange sense of panic closes in on him when he's wrapped up in you, thinking in Avgin, thinking sand, sister, goddess, ghost. He holds you tightly, like the rags cut from his father’s shirt, or his mother’s locket won back from the shell-slashers, or a bag of poker chips beneath a card table, clutched within his trembling grip.
“Aventurine, is something wrong?” you ask in Avgin, and he replies in Standard with his usual smile.
“Hm? No. What could be wrong if I have you here?”
Lying is one of his greatest tools. Sex is another one. So he says, “I think I'd like my reward now,” and he runs his lips along your jaw, your pulse, the spot over your heart (there's a word for that in Avgin but not Standard, he tells you), until you're laughing. I thought you wanted three kisses, you tease, and he replies, Who said I wanted to kiss you on the mouth?
But he coaxes open your thighs, and once he's inside you, he collects his payment properly. He kisses you, and kisses you, and kisses you—and you swallow his lies whole.
There are some things that Aventurine doesn't teach you. Mostly, they’re things that he can’t teach you.
There are countless gaps in his Avgin. His speech is painfully childish—probably more childish than it was when he actually stopped speaking it. He doesn't know how to swear (something that disappoints you) and he doesn't know how to flirt (something that devastates you). He doesn’t know any words that would be useful for work either: commercialization, governance, stakes, winnings, profit. When you ask him what his job title is in Avgin (“Was senior management even a thing in Avgin society?”), he laughs and gives you the word for gambler.
Then there are the words that he remembers—has remembered his whole life—but never says. Not to you, and not to himself. He doesn't teach you any prayers. He doesn't teach you any blessings. He doesn't teach you about Mama Fenge, or the Kakava Festival, or how the rain fell when he was born. When you ask him, What holidays did you celebrate when you were little? he shrugs and says, We didn't have any. Sigonia’s too bleak to do any partying.
Then you ask him one day, while your bodies are spent in the afterglow of sex, sticky with sweat and sweetness, how to say I love you. And he goes quiet.
Love is a cheap word in Interastral Standard. In the language of globalisation and trade, love has been commercialised, commodified, capitalised for power. You say it to him in many contexts: I love this, I love that, I love you. He hardly ever reacts, and he's never said it back. It would feel unnecessary and also cruel if he did: Aventurine has only ever said the words himself as either a joke or a manipulation.
But love feels different in Avgin than in Interastral Standard, doesn't sound like a thing that can be traded or bought. Kakavasha only ever said the word love to his mother, to his sister, to his father's grave. Love in his mother tongue feels priceless.
When Aventurine thinks about you saying it—I love you, Kakavasha, in clumsy, earnest Avgin—something so painful swells in his throat that he can hardly breathe.
“There is no word for love in my language,” he tells you.
You blink. “Okay, then what's an idiom for it?”
“There is none. There’s no word or phrase expressing love.”
You raise a brow. “That’s hard to believe.”
“Is it?” He smiles. “There’s no Avgin in the known universe who cares about love. Only scheming, thieving, and treachery—and you can't do those things when love is involved.”
You look at him in alarm. “Why are you saying that?” You're practically squirming in your discomfort. “I don't know why you think I'd believe such a racist stereotype.”
“It’s not a stereotype,” he says. “I'm not talking about the Avgin culture. I'm talking about myself.”
After all, he is the only Avgin left.
It is an unfair thing to say. A cruel thing to say. After all the laughing and kissing and crying and fucking, after all the tender eyes and gentle words from you—it is probably the worst pain imaginable: I don't give a shit about you. He waits for you to cry.
But you only stare at him calmly, studying him. You brush the hair out of his eyes, seeing them clearly.
“If you lie to me all the time,” you say in Avgin, “eventually I'll stop believing anything you say.”
Aventurine is speechless. His heart does that addictive, disgusting thing again. He thinks about leaving, but then you say, Let me hold you, and he can't do anything other than obey.
Avgin dialect was once included in the Synesthesia Beacon list of functions. The Intelligentsia Guild added it before the Second Katica-Avgin Extinction Event, when the IPC was trying to get a political foothold on Sigonia via the Avgin people. The language was alive then, with enough value to be included into the Synesthesia LLM by the linguists.
But since the Extinction Event—since Kakavasha ran away from home—the Synesthesia data on Avgin has been stagnant, a fossil. Aventurine knows because he's subscribed to software updates for certain languages (Avgin Sigonian, Common Sigonian, Interastral Standard, and now your mother tongue). He gets pinged every time there's a new addition for slang, for neologisms—but there hasn't been a ping for the Avgin dialect since he had the Beacon installed. The live translation function hasn't even been available since the previous Amber Era. When he checks its page on his Synesthesia app, it's very clear why—
SIGONIAN, AVGIN DIALECT
SPEAKERS: 0
STATUS: Extinct
END OF SERVICE: 2156 AE
The complete death of the language has led to an irritating dilemma for you and Aventurine. You keep running into words that he doesn't know—this time not because of his childlike speech, but because they never existed in his language to begin with. Ocean, tropical, rainforest. Starskiff, accelerator, space fleet. Stock market, shortselling, mutual funds. Black hole, event horizon, spaghettification. All things that never came up for Kakavasha, but now come up for Aventurine, and the language has not evolved to include it.
He always wants to switch to Standard to discuss these things, but you're insistent on speaking in Avgin as much as possible. He doesn't know why, but he doesn't mind humouring you—partly because he likes to indulge you, and partly because he’s grown used to hearing the honeyed timbre of Avgin dialect in your household. The place would feel strange without it.
So you start filling the gaps with other languages, filtering them through the lyricism of Avgin. Loanwords, he thinks they’re called. You take ocean, tropical, rainforest from Amazian; starskiff, accelerator, space fleet from Xianzhounese; stock market, shortselling, mutual funds from Interastral Standard. For the astrophysics terms, you try directly translating them—with limited success.
“Can't I literally just say ‘black hole’?” you ask in Avgin, and he nearly spits out his coffee.
“Please don't. That's a dirty word.” He can't bring himself to say what it means, but from the way you’re laughing, you can clearly guess.
“I thought you said you didn't know how to swear.”
“You've just reminded me how.”
“You're welcome.” You look on the verge of cackling. Aventurine finishes his coffee and wonders when you're going to surprise him with your newfound vulgarity.
“Let's just do the space terms based on Standard,” he says. Begs.
“No, that's so boring.”
“Then let's do your language.”
You open your mouth. Close it. Give him a blank look.
“You don't know how to say those words in your mother tongue either, do you,” he intuits.
“Well, ‘spaghettification’ doesn't really come up in everyday conversation, does it?”
“Then maybe we don't need it.” He smiles, senses an opportunity. Smells blood. “How about ‘love’? I'd much rather know how you say that. I bet it sounds beautiful.”
You give him a long look. Your eyes are vulnerable when you share it: Love. I love you. He’s fascinated by the sound of it. Your voice is never that fragile when you say it in Standard. It's never so earnest. He repeats it, staring at you, and your gaze falls to the ground. His mouth curls.
“I like it,” he says. “Let's use that. It'll sound nice in Avgin.”
You try to recover. “Sure. That works. But back to ‘black hole’—”
And the two of you continue like that for days, weeks, months. It feels like a complete bastardization of his mother tongue on some days, in some conversations. Almost unrecognisable. But it doesn't feel bad. It’s all he has, it's all you have, and when he walks into your home, he starts speaking it without thinking: your bastard, patchwork language. The Avgin dialect that exists only in your house. A tongue that can only be understood by a liar.
And then, one lazy Sunday morning, he gets a familiar ping. He expects it to be Interastral Standard, as usual. The language balloons with each planet that the IPC colonises.
But instead, he opens his screen and freezes.
SIGONIAN, AVGIN DIALECT
SPEAKERS: 2
STATUS: Endangered.
SERVICE RESUMED: 2157 AE
NEW UPDATES: 103 loanwords and 5 neologisms added.
He can't stop looking at the status. Endangered. Endangered, which means dying, but alive. The Avgin dialect is alive again. The Intelligentsia Guild determined it, so it must be true. But Aventurine can't agree: there are no Avgin speakers in the known universe other than the two of you, and what you speak isn't real Avgin. The Avgin spoken by his mother and father and sister is dead; the Avgin spoken by Kakavasha is dead. The festivals are gone; the deserts have been terraformed. There are no wagons; there are no dances; there are no prayers. There are no blessings, and he has no home—
As long as you are alive, the blood of the Avgin will never run dry.
His throat locks up.
“Aventurine?” you ask. Your voice is drowsy, but concerned. “Is something wrong?”
He looks at you from his phone, a polished smile on his face.
“No.” His syllables are plain and efficient in the noise of Interastral Standard: “Just looking at details for a new assignment. It’ll be a long one.”
“Oh.” You frown. “Will you be away from home for a long time, then?”
He stops himself from swallowing. “Yes, I'll be away from the house. For several months, probably.”
“Okay.” Your voice is small. “Take care of yourself, okay? I'll miss you.”
Each word you speak resonates with heartbreak. It always does in these conversations, even in Standard—but the sorrow is amplified in Avgin. His mother tongue has an inherently sad quality to it, he's noticed. His people have lost so much over their history—their language is one of loss. It's his language of loss. Kakavasha did all his grieving in Avgin; Aventurine has never felt sorrow in Standard. When the language died, so did Kakavasha—and all his regrets with it.
“You'll come home to me, right?” you ask. It's a beautiful sentence in Avgin. A heartrending one. He feels something that he hasn't known since he was a child.
It's a feeling he has to kill.
“Yes,” he says in Standard. “Of course I'll come back.”
This is not the first time that Aventurine has been mistaken for dead, but this is the longest time.
The latest world to join the IPC network was a tough acquisition. It had been ruled by a despot who wreaked havoc on both the people and the planet, and who was too stupid and reckless to resolve conflicts with his trade partners. He probably would have blown up the whole star system had he been left to his own devices. Aventurine had no qualms about bringing him to ruin, nor did he have qualms about nearly dying in the process.
If things had gone his way, he'd either be dead or missing. This would have been the perfect opportunity to do the latter, actually—to be freed from the IPC. Free to drift alone, speaking with strangers in strange, unfamiliar tongues. No connection to his past, to the cruel history of his luck, to his commodity code. No tether to his inherently unjust destiny. But instead he's back in your house, pockets heavy with his borrowed wealth, speaking to you in his bastardised, childish Avgin. I'm sorry. Come here. Let me kiss you. Don't cry. Don't cry. Don't cry.
Your Avgin is—shockingly fluent. He doesn't know how. He can't think about it right now. All he can process is the wounded animal noise of your speech as you yell at him, as you cry. Like an injured songbird, or a weeping child. Why did you leave, why did you lie, why do you always lie to me, why don't you give a shit about me, you spit. Why do you want to die, why do you want to die, why do you want to die, you keep saying. Sand, sister, goddess, ghost, he keeps hearing. Sand, sister, goddess, ghost. Don't leave me, big sister. People will die. Why do you have to go?
“I’m sorry,” he tries again, this time in your language. “I'm so sorry. Come here. Let me hold you.”
You collapse into your mother tongue. Aventurine is both relieved and horrified. Relieved that he doesn't need to hear the language of his grief—horrified that he needs to hear yours. He's never heard you cry like this. He's never heard you break like this. These must have been the words you used when the soldiers found you hiding in your closet, when they dragged you out of your home. You were just a child.
Aventurine doesn't know the words you are using—you've never taught them—but he still understands them.
You're very malleable when you’re sad; even more so when you're hysterical. Aventurine understands this about you, and he understands how to calm you—this time in your native tongue—and he understands how to kiss you. He understands that you need to feel close to him. He understands that there are ways to accomplish this other than sex. A normal person would talk it out, have an honest conversation, come to a mutual understanding, and maybe even stop trying to kill himself. They wouldn't fuck you into the mattress while your face is still wet with tears.
But Aventurine is not a normal person. He doesn't know how to have an honest conversation, and he doesn't want to be understood. Lying is his greatest weapon, and sex is a close second. So he kisses you until you’re too breathless to cry, fucks you until you can't think, and makes you come so hard that you’re in too much bliss to grieve. And maybe it's horrible of him, but he enjoys it. He enjoys the way your body takes him in so easily, the way your nails dig into his back, the way you tighten around him when you climax, so wet and needy for him. The way you beg for him in your language for liars as he spends himself inside you: I love you, Aventurine, I love you, I love you, I love you—
Only because it feels good. This is all only because he enjoys fucking you. This is all only because you enjoy fucking him. This is all it'll ever be, and it'll be this way until he gets to meet his end.
(Some months ago, Aventurine started dreaming in Avgin.
It surprised him when he first noticed it. The last time he remembers having a dream in his native tongue, he was twelve years old and still in chains. And even then, it had become a sporadic, strange thing. Awful to wake up from. One minute he was with his mother and sister on a cool, rainy day, speaking fluently in Avgin as he laughed and played—and the next minute, he was being shaken awake in his cage, hearing the cruel lash of Katican.
But ever since he's started speaking Avgin with you, he's been dreaming in it. Vividly. Sometimes he's a child in these dreams, and sometimes he's grown. He's always back in the Sigonian desert, among the tents and the campfires and his family wagons. His mother and sister are alive. Sometimes his father is too. The skies roar with thunder and the stellar winds are always harsh, but they always keep him cocooned up in their arms. He's always warm.
Sometimes Aventurine dreams of nicer days. Clear skies, warm sun, cool breeze—all blessings from the Mother Goddess. On these days, he tends to be an adult, and you tend to be there with him. Your Avgin is fluent but strange, filled with funny loanwords and peculiar slang. His father likes the neologisms and starts using them—but only in wrong ways. His sister finds it embarrassing and keeps apologising to you.
His mother loves you. She loves you so much it hurts. This is how I know you're blessed, Kakavasha, she says, glowing. You’re so lucky to have found such a kind person.
Kakavasha knows this. He knows he's lucky, and in his dreams, that isn't a bad thing. In his dreams, his luck means that his home is not violently excised from his heart: his father never dies; his mother never dies; his sister never dies. The tents are not burned; the wagons are not destroyed. He is never forced to forget his people's dishes, their songs, their language, their joy. And in his dreams, his luck means that he meets you anyway, without all the loss and the chains and the lying.
In his dreams, he is able to bring you to the desert. He is able to teach you the Avgin he spoke as a child, to cook all the meals his mother used to make, to share with you their coffee and their tea. He teaches you prayers. He teaches you blessings. He tells you about Mama Fenge, about how the rain fell when he was born. He takes you to the Kakava Festival, shows you how to dance, sings to you all the Avgin songs until you're singing back. He presses his palm to yours in prayer; he kisses you in devotion, not avoidance.
Sometimes the two of you still fight, the same fights that you have in real life, but he handles them with honesty. He listens to you. He apologises to you. He tells you that he’ll change, and he means it—because this world is a kind one, and he has no need to be so cruel to you.
In this kind world, when you lay in bed with his arms tight around you, you smile at him and say, I love you, Kakavasha. You say it in Avgin—real Avgin, not the dialect born from genocide and deceit—and when he responds, there's not even a little bit of insincerity in his voice. Because Kakavasha never became Aventurine in these dreams, so he has no Interastral Standard in which he can lie to you, no silver tongue with which he can manipulate you, no commodity code that inspires his fear of being controlled by you. Kakavasha only knows Avgin, and he only has his sand, his family, his goddess, his home.
And he has you. Finally, he has you.
He kisses you, and kisses you, and kisses you—and then he tells you the truth.)
.
.
.
Aventurine cannot lie in Avgin.
You noticed this very early on: whenever he lies to you, he always switches to Interastral Standard. Probably he wouldn't be able to do it in his mother tongue. His command of it is too weak, and the words he knows are all too kind. He speaks with the innocence of a child, and children cannot deceive people in the way that adults can. Children cannot perform commerce or negotiate contracts. They cannot use a silver tongue to rob people blind. They cannot save themselves from the gallows.
So Aventurine’s Avgin is defenceless. Vulnerable. So vulnerable it hurts. You are not so vulnerable in your first language because your captors spoke it on occasion, and you learned to lie in it to gain their pity. You told Aventurine that knowing it would help him understand you, but this was a deception. Aventurine’s mother tongue was a language of trust, but yours is a dialect of abuse.
The Avgin language died before Aventurine could be gutted by it; this is why it disarms him so completely. This is why he’s so indulgent and so warm when you use it with him, why he yields to all your requests. Not requests for money or gifts—you’re certain those are meaningless to him—but for affection. Let me hold you. Let me touch you. Let me kiss you. He can never say no.
This is also why he loves hearing you speak his mother tongue, you think—it makes him feel at home, it makes him feel safe. Maybe it even makes him feel loved. He never seems so at peace speaking any other language, so you try to use Avgin as much as possible. You like seeing him happy. You like it even if it means you need to teach him your own native language in exchange, even when it means you need to hear him say all the things your captors used to say. You don't mind it if it's him. You never mind the harm he inflicts on you, especially not when it brings you closer to him.
It is convenient that he cannot lie in Avgin. You only wanted to learn it in the first place because he talks in his sleep—mostly in Standard, but sometimes in his native tongue. And now that you know he cannot lie in Avgin, you also know he's always being honest in his dreams. Honest when he throws his arms around you in his sleep. Honest when he grabs you so tightly that you bruise. Honest when he buries his face into your neck and whispers prayers into your skin.
Most of the words he says are common ones, the earliest vocabulary that he taught you. But there are some things he's withheld from you—and to learn those things, you had to track down linguists from the Intelligentsia Guild, bribe them with your dirty money, have them give you all their deprecated, extinct data. It felt two-faced, and it was violating, but it was the only way. You already know that Aventurine would rather die than translate his feelings for you, would never want this part of himself understood.
I'm sorry for always leaving you.
I'm sorry for making you cry.
I can't bear the thought of losing you.
Freedom would be too lonely without you.
I don't want to hurt you anymore.
I don't want to lie to you anymore.
I missed you.
I want you.
I need you.
I love you.
end
afterword
#aventurine x reader#hsr x reader#honkai star rail x reader#x reader#hsr smut#aventurine smut#lol it isnt really smut but it is nsft i suppose#nsft#yueshuo.fics
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Our Sick Story, Thus Far (M)
Teddy Bear—> (yes you have to read this first)
pairing. Jeno x female reader x Haechan x ?
genre. college AU, pwp, dark fic, angst, M/F
wc. 29k
warning. profanity, bullying, forced relationship, cheating, dr*g use mentioned, blackmailing, coercion, possessive/obsessive behavior, lies deceit manipulation etc, is anyone in this story actually a good person??(the answer: no), stockholm vibes. smut warnings under cut. minors DNI.
now playing. Our Sick Story(Thus Far)//Atreyu
a/n. it’s been a long time coming and I hope the wait was worth it for this story that I had no business writing to begin with😅
dedicated to the messages I received letting me know Teddy Bear made them wanna throw up. you are going to love this one! and @notncdeeh for consistently bothering me to finish writing this💚
smut warnings. dubcon/noncon elements(DO NOT read if that makes you uncomfortable. thanks.), Jeno refers to y/n as ‘Teddy’ often, no teddy plush shall be spared, dacryphyilia, humiliation, degradation/praise, oral, anal, rimming, finger sucking, sub/dom dynamics, switching, hair pulling, slapping, protected and unprotected sex, breeding, impreg kink/forced pregnancy, cock warming, hidden camera use, choking, mind break, surprise character smut(👀).
･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･･
Art class had taught you more than expected when you chose the extra curriculum for ‘stress relief’ as the school’s counselor put it, emphasizing how fast you will burn out if you don’t allow yourself one light work subject.
‘Paint me something pretty today.’ Jeno smirked near the entrance, stepping backward to keep his gaze on yours until he could no longer see you from the hallway.
Blue, sky blue.
Jeno’s favorite color is sky blue, which he mentioned one day when grabbing you after class. The only one of your courses he’d been unable to transfer into because it’d interfere with his degree.
‘It’s a shame we can’t be together all day.’ Jeno traced a faded spot along the column of your throat while you studied color theory. A mixture of blue and yellow bruises speckled with red bits of gnawed skin.
Art class has taught you many things, one being- you aren’t very artistic, and that much like the blue sky had turned darker earlier these days, so had your mind.
Jeno rained trickles of blues into your favorite colors, he muddied a bright day, stained pools of misery around your world.
Sky blue is an ugly color, you think, because even as he smiled with an arm slung over your shoulders walking through the first drops of November rain; Jeno robbed hues of yellow and gold from the sun. He gathered red from the last days of summer heat and stormed through your life on a cloud tainting everything a miserable shade of black.
Art class had really become your everyday sanctuary, a time away from him. Time to pretend that Jeno had never invaded your days.
A time to daydream from aw you hid behind a canvas, imagine ‘what if’, and admire a student from across too focused on his work to spare you a glance.
and when Jeno would arrive ready to prance you through the halls as his play thing, his little toy, you couldn’t help but wonder..
In another life you could have fallen for Jeno. You could have loved him, developed a healthy relationship, formed fond memories to reflect upon together in the future.
But in this life, you hate him.
Hate may be a strong word, but as you sit across from the bane of your existence, you know one thing is certain.
You hate Jeno Lee.
･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･･
Perhaps it is to your detriment that Jeno has made you feel nothing, unless numbness can be classified as an emotion.
By the round of omnipresent gasps and whispers that reach your ears each time you enter a room with him, it’s hard to not fixate on the way his presence alone stirs the first rumble of what can only be classified as a concrete shattering earthquake. Maybe that’s the problem, because even when Jeno’s arms are wrapped around your waist from behind, leading you through the cafeteria to sit at a table alone with eyes of vultures ready to pick your flesh apart inch by inch; you cannot find it in yourself to care. Not anymore, not even close, not even a little.
“I like it when you wear your hair down.” Jeno whispers, fixing your loose locks to one side. “It’s really cute how you think this is enough to cover yourself and hide from me.”
Bony fingers trace patterns of sadness atop the marks he’s drawn along your throat. “Pretty.”
Cute. Pretty. Meaningless compliments, because how could they hold any meaning pouring from a soul filled with nothing but darkness.
Even as you sit pressed to his side in the back of the library, you feel sick, scribbling a mental note to wear your hair up more often. His compliments replay like a broken record, scratching the way up your thigh to a cut between the juncture of your knee. Your teeth clench as you claw your jagged nails up your inner thigh, attempting to make the mental gash real just to feel something. Dig the wound deeper, much like Jeno’s sweet words strike similar to the tip of a blunt tip knife; aimed recklessly at your soul slicing through inch by inch. Cutting you open until your blood has been drained of all life.
His eyebrows furrow, gaze following along to your hand and slapping your wrist away. “What the hell are you doing?”
“I need to use the restroom.”
“Great!” Jeno pipes up, grabbing your bag. “So do I.”
“Jeno..”
Standing up, he smiles expectantly, lip quirked to one side daring you to speak out loud against him. It’s useless, you know better by now.
“Can we make it fast this time? The bell will ring soon..” you mumble quietly, walking alongside him toward the exit.
“Worried you’ll miss your precious little painting class?” Jeno nudges you toward the mens bathroom, grabbing a hold around your elbow as he steps in first. “EMPTY OUT!” He roars, followed by an urgent shuffle and toilet flushing as one of the new Freshmen you recognize scuttles out with his head ducked, toilet paper attached to the back of his sneaker.
Jeno laughs breathily, entertained by the younger's fearful exit. The fear that he can instill in anyone easily with the snap of his fingers, or a mere glance. Turning toward you, he smiles, nodding to one of the stalls. “All yours.”
“That wasn’t necessary..” you say quietly, moving past him to find the cleanest stall available, nose scrunched in disgust as you settle on one and turn to shut the door. “Shit.” You startle jumping back, clutching at your chest.
Jeno latches onto the stalls frame, peering down at you. “No need to close the door Teddy, it’s only me.”
“Jeno, please..”
“You know I hate it when you do that.” Jeno swings his body back and forth, head shaking side to side slowly. “You said you need to use the bathroom?”
Locking your eyes to the floor, you’re at least thankful for choosing a skirt to wear today, lifting, sliding your underwear to your knees as you squat down and settle with your skirt fanned out over your thighs.
Jeno turns to laugh, rolling his eyes. “The way you still act so shy, like you’re ashamed..”
As if he hasn’t defiled you and had his way with you in every which way he prefers. “Cute.” Jeno’s gaze traces up from your sneakers to where your knees clench together, running his tongue under the inside of his lip. “Done?”
Scooting closer, his arms drop down to his sides, shoulders appearing more broad from where he looms above you. “And look at that, with time to spare still.”
Jeno grips around your upper arm, hoisting you up to your feet, panicked as you’d just begun to reach for the roll of toilet paper. “What’re yo—stop!”
Ignoring you, he flips you around to press your back against the stall, licking across his lips akin to a rabid animal. “Don’t worry about that, I’ll clean you up.”
He drops to his knees, bunching your skirt up to your waist as he perches one of your legs upon his shoulder, face burying between your thighs.
“Jeno, don’t! That’s too—“
The drag of his tongue has you choking, squirming back to get away as heat fills your cheeks, completely mortified by the sweep of his tongue running up and down. “N-no!”
Jeno groans, face shaking side to side as he makes sure to cover each inch of the skin between your thighs, tongue greedily running rampant between your folds. “That’s so disgusting.” You cry, pushing at his head, nails dug into his scalp
Jeno rushes back with a hiss, eyes snapping open wildly as he apprehends your wrists and clutches around your forearms roughly, returning the feeling with his short filed nails. “Funny how you only shut up at the worst times.” Overpowered, he pulls on your arms to launch himself back up, twisting them around your back painfully to press you to the stall chest first. “So difficult.”
Returning to his knees, he flips your skirt back up, keeping your wrists tethered with one hand. “Thought you wanted to get to class on time?” Jeno’s nose drags between your bottom, sucking in a deep inhale. “Fuck.”
He groans, biting down on the cleft of your ass hard enough to leave marks behind. A new one to join the rest that he makes sure to add daily. “Nothing about this is disgusting.” Cupping one of your buttcheeks, he bounces the meaty flesh against his face, eyes rolling up as his nose dips against your tight ring of muscle.
“Not there!” You wheeze, scrabbling to get away by uselessly scratching down the wall.
“You’ll get used to it.” He rumbles against your core, lips circling your entrance with a lewd slurp; not missing a drop of your arousal beginning to drip out. “Ridiculous how good you taste.”
Clapping your ass against his cheek without pause, Jeno’s neck bends back more, jaw opening wide to swipe his tongue from your clit to your hole, growling between short staggered breaths. Each drag of his nose slowly circling your rim humiliates you worse, biting down to keep in your complaints the more he goes for it. Splaying out his palm, he spreads your ass completely open, unveiling the taut ring of muscle clenching helplessly.
Jeno kisses at the backs of his teeth, drawing in a sharp breath as his index finger extends to tap and tease your rim, cheek dimpling to one side the more you fail to pull away. “You’ll let me fuck you here next, yeah?” He laughs, pushing your trapped fist into your lower back to form a deep arch. “Fill up all your holes, is that what you want?”
“N-no..” You grimace, face pressed to the chill bathroom stall. “Please, hurry, please.”
His tongue clicks obnoxiously, blowing on your rim before setting down a searing kiss, tongue smoothing around in a circle. “Why should I hurry? I don’t even get to fuck you.” He sneers, eyeing the time on his wrist.
“Later,” you pipe up fast, rutting back against his face to convince him. “After school, we can.. do that..”
His eyebrows shoot high, peering up in surprise. “Oh yeah? I’ll hold you to that, Teddy.” He bites down on your buttcheek again for good measure, nipping the skin roughly. “Now be good, and hold yourself open if you want to make it on time.” His grip on your wrist loosens, shaking off the sting left behind only for a second before he slaps your palms down on your butt and adjusts your position to expose both your holes. “That’s it.”
Thick arms circle around your thighs, biceps flexing to keep a snug grip on you as his hot tongue returns to your center and glides between your folds, inching lower until his lips can wrap around your clit.
“Uhhnnghhh..” you jolt, firmly tucking in your mouth to suppress a moan from soaring out.
Jeno’s hands swipe up the front of your thighs, gliding his mouth and nose from your wet hole to your clit with teasing firm flicks of his tongue; three of his digits find your bundle of nerves right as his mouth latches back around your entrance. His tongue buries deep, lifting your toes to curl up off the floor, knocking your forehead against the wall as you fight to keep in a desperate cry.
He’s relentless, tongue expertly waving against your insides, the muscle strong and thick. “Ugh!” A whine breaks through your sealed lips, smacking the stall as he taps your clit repeatedly, urging you to break down and squeeze your release around his tongue.
Jeno draws out, mouth a mess of shiny wet, panting heavily. “Come on, give me what I want.” He slaps your clit roughly, spitting at your entrance before plunging in, nosing at your rim harshly as he struggles to breathe out of his nostrils. He grumbles between choked breaths, tongue working in and out of your hole with precise thrusts. Each rub to you rim, stroke against your clit, and incessant roll of his tongue inside of you shoots straight through your legs, ready to collapse if not for his arms keeping you held in place.
“Je—I—“ your eyes roll back, grateful that he can’t see the wash of pleasure pouring down your face. Turned putty under his ministrations as you clamp around his tongue shamefully, scratching down the stall in a weak attempt to get away.
Jeno drags out only to lick up the trickle that managed to escape his mouth, lapping your inner thighs clean with a deep moan. Each swipe of his tongue raises your humiliation up higher, hissing and jerking away when he reaches the cut along your knee.
“What is this?” He grips a hold around your calve, forcing you to balance on one leg to get an up close look and inspect how deep the wound goes. “When did you do this?”
“Don’t know, think when I ran down the stairs to meet you this morning the stair bannister skimmed my leg..”
He grunts displeased, setting your foot down to stand and kick open the door. “Come here.”
Jeno motions to the sinks, dropping both of your backpacks down next to you on the counter. “Does it hurt?”
He examines your knee closer, propping your foot to rest along the sink ledge, tongue poked between his teeth.
“Why do you care?” You ask with a scowl, reassigning your attention to the bathroom floor when Jeno slowly blinks at you and reaches to open his backpack.
“Is that a serious question?”
“Whatever.”
He nods, huffing an amused sound under his breath as he grabs a pack of sanitation wipes. “This may sting but I’d rather you not get some infection, especially after scratching at it.”
He proceeds to lightly dab the wound, drawing a hiss between your teeth despite how gentle he’s trying to be.
“You don’t have to do that,” you bite, leg jerking in his hold. “I won’t pick at it anymore.”
“Sure.” Pink lips purse together, delicately blowing over the area. “I don’t have much, but I’ll cover it up with some gauze when we get home later.”
Home.
Jeno speaks as if you live together, and you may as well at this point. Ripping a bandage open with his teeth, his eyes thin to place the non-sticky white where your flesh appears most harmed. “You’re mine now, I expect you to be more careful than this with your body.”
Squeezing up your calve, his thin digits dig through the meat of your muscle, trapping your bouncing gaze. “Maybe it’s best you move out of that shit hole you live in. That areas not well fit for a young girl to live alone there.”
“I can’t afford to move..”
Jeno’s lips gingerly land atop the bandaid, puckering to press a kiss. “I’ll figure something out.”
“You’re being weird.” You whisper, turning away from the sight of his pouty mouth continuing to layer kisses over your wound as if to heal you faster.
“It’s okay.” He draws your foot off the counter, taking a hold of your thighs to make space for himself to stand closer between. “It’s okay to accept it.”
Jeno’s eyes appear black as night, empty of any genuine thought or emotion, but even then your chest aches at the flicker of hope when he looks at you. It’s different, nothing you’ve experienced from anyone else. He looks at you like you’re..
“Special.” He whispers, pinching your chin as he leans in closer and his palm smooths over the covered wound. “Does it hurt?”
“..Would you hurt me?” Your lips move faster than you mind can register, asking yourself the question over and over again without realizing you’ve said it outloud.
Jeno blinks slowly, taking in your nervous expression. Opening up his palm, he moves to cup your chin and keep your face visible as you try to hide away, slowly inching forward to connect your mouth to his.
The bell rings right before your lips can meet, dislodging the breath you hadn’t even realized you’d been holding. It’s easy to break from your thoughts and push yourself off from the sink, scoot around him fast with the excuse of being late. “My scholarship.” You constantly remind him, receiving nothing more than a roll of his eyes in return.
“Yeah yeah,” he trails after you out of the bathroom, voice low and threatening. “I’m holding you to what you said for later, don’t forget.”
･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･･
Jeno met Haechan the first day of Freshman year of high school.
Excited to show off a new pair of shoes with wheels attached on the soles, he rolled through the hallways to his first class. That’s when he noticed an on-slaught of senior girls running by in their short cheerleading uniforms. Giggling and waving as they jogged by him cackling from behind their hands- ‘hey freshie’.
All too distracted with a goofy smile on his face, he missed the shorter boy wandering ahead of him lost. An unfortunate collision caused their foreheads to bump hard enough for a bruise to show up on both of them by lunch.
Haechan hissed, crashing flat on his bottom painfully; Jeno quickly apologized and helped him up. Little did he know they’d become great friends from that day forward.
Jeno’s not jealous of Haechan, not necessarily. He admires how giving his friend can be, really. If Jeno ever forgets to grab his packed lunch, Haechan will always offer to share. He’s always sure to invite Jeno over to play games whenever his dad purchases the latest gaming console. He’d even go as far as lending Jeno the shirt off his back if needed.
‘What are friends for if not to have you back in any situation?’ That’s what Haechan would say whenever Jeno felt rendered speechless by his friend's generosity.
The thing is, Jeno had never had a friend like Haechan. He questions if he can even call his relationships with others friendships anymore.
Unlike Haechan, Jeno had trained himself to not share. Friends had only become burdensome with time. Always asking him to play with his toys, mooching from his delicious snacks, making a big deal over the new pair of sneakers he wore that day.
They liked him because he had nice things, but they didn’t actually care about him. They cared about materialistic bullshit, about his good looks, the designer name brand clothing he’d wear.
Haechan was different from all of them. One day he opened up and shared that he’d felt homesick. Vulnerable at the time after a long tiresome day of introducing himself to groups of snobby fake stuck up people. One even pointed out a manga on his desk saying- ‘I’ve only seen weird loners read that shit’.
‘I had a friend.. back home.’ Haechan had sighed despairingly, head dropped lazily on his bed; drained by the realization that this is his new life. ‘Well.. I wanted her to be more than a friend.’
Jeno watched Haechan over the next few years. His friend changed, reformed his persona to fit in with the standard; he adapted quickly to this new lifestyle. Days of asking Jeno if he’d like some of his lunch dwindled down to nothing; seemingly only irritated that Jeno could be so forgetful of he ever asked for his leftovers.
Things had only become more tense with time. Haechan had grown competitive with everyone. He craved to be the ‘it’ boy around school. It never phased Jeno, not really, he learned to accept the change in his friend.
Then came the day Haechan decided that Jeno was his competition.
“Jeno, don’t you think this Cartier bracelet would look so cute on my wrist?” Sinclair waved her phone in his face. Wrist waggling out toward him, suggesting with her flirty batting eyelashes that he buy it for her; she had been on his ass for months dropping hints. “Perhaps you could finally ask me out with a gesture such as this?”
“He can’t afford that.” Haechan rolls his eyes letting out a breathy scoff by her side.
“Of course he can, nothing a swipe of your dad’s Amex can’t cover. He won’t even notice it on the monthly statement.” Sinclair goes on.
“His dad’s broke.” Haechan corrects her abruptly, glancing quickly toward Jeno’s burning glare. “I mean, uh... don’t repeat that.”
Haechan snatches her phone, waving off that he’d buy it for her when he takes her out come Friday.
All it took was some stupid girl Jeno could give a fuck about for Haechan to let him down for the last time. It bothered him for months, imagining the various ways he could split his ‘friends’ skull open.
“I won’t mention it again dude. It was a mistake, alright?” Haechan whispers standing near his locker after Jeno had resorted to the silent treatment for the rest of the week. “Listen, I’m sure she’s already forgotten. I’ll just take her to some overpriced restaurant and tell her I made that up because I was high or whatever.”
“You promised me you wouldn’t tell anyone.”
“Promises are for children Jeno, I forgot alright? I’m allowed to make a mistake.” Haechan showed no remorse. Proving his promises to be empty, backed by no integrity, lacking worth and value. Jeno knew deep down Haechan only continued to befriend him out of guilt, he knew their relationship boiled down to nothing for the other at the end of the day.
He knew he had to do something about it, but he couldn't. He had to wait for the perfect timing. He had to leave Haechan defenseless. He needed to ensure no way for his father to find out of his plan. Leave Haechan with no way to snitch and rat him out, a threat strong enough to hold over his friend's head.
The day you came along everything fell into place. Jeno knew as he watched Haechan’s head lay on your shoulder from behind a bookshelf in the library, you clearly meant something to him. None of it made sense at first. Why would Haechan care about you of all people?
“Remember that girl you mentioned from back home?” Jeno decides to casually bring up the story he’d hardly cared about or paid attention to while gaming. His friend's throat cleared on the opposite end from behind his computer screen.
“Yeah, what about her?” Haechan says, continuing to mumble curses as he goes on playing.
“Whatever happened to her? Did you two keep in touch at all?” Jeno asks, cursing at the screen to seem casually interested.
“Uhhh,” Haechan swallows, shrugging. “Honestly, don’t know.”
Liar.
Jeno’s teeth grit, holding back a laugh. “That’s too bad, you two were really close, I remember how tore up you were back then when you had first moved. Took you a while to get over it.”
“Man, that was so long ago.” Haechan waves off. “I was a kid.”
Raising a finger to silence their conversation, Haechan pauses the game, picking up his phone after the first ring. “Hey baby, nah I’m just with Jeno, yeah the usual.” Haechan proceeded to ignore him, the old friend he once cherished long gone now.
Just like you.
There are times you want to ask ‘Why me? Why me of all people? Out of all the girls withering away for a mere blink from Jeno in their directions, what the fuck made me matter.’
The unplanned vow of silence you’ve committed to halts those times your tongue itches to lash at him, and you listen, you listen well, very well. It’s to your detriment really, because Jeno adores that you listen, he loves the implication of the power he constricts you with behind your binded lips.
It’s also to his detriment that— for lack of better words, Jeno isn’t the brightest. Maybe he doesn’t want to come off too intelligent, you contemplate as he gushes on about his lost friendship; his favorite topic other than you really.
Haechan.
Jeno’s obsessed with Haechan, at least he’s obsessed with the fact that Haechan won. Between his foul rehashing of times his alleged best friend made him feel futile, it’s easy to decipher why it had to be you.
Not to make Haechan jealous, no. Haechan could give a fuck about you.
Jeno sees the precious memories of his former friend that he lost in you. The glint in his iris sparkles, satisfied by your raptured gaze as he wraps up his story.
“That’s why you’re so perfect.” He says proudly, capturing his bottom lip between index finger and thumb, massaging it while a hum rises up his throat. “Had to be you. You’re the answer I’ve been waiting for.”
The answer. What the fuck does that even mean, you squint, blinking it away fast. Jeno beams, pulling you closer to him with his arm snaking around your waist. “I like when you do that, makes me wonder what’s going on in that brain of yours. Something devious I’m sure.”
Carrying your bag, he hooks an arm over your shoulder, drawing you close as you venture to your next class together. “Hey.”
Maneuvering you around to face him, he stops at the classroom door, grabbing the attention of numerous students as he blocks the entrance making an awkward scene for you. “What are yo—“
“I love you.” Jeno announces loud and clear, receiving a round of gasps and an uproar of whispers. He smiles, cheeks lined with wrinkles, eyebrows raised as he waits.
“Wha—…” breaking off, you peer around quickly, sweat pouring down your back out of fear. Anger and an oncoming storm raging through your gut. “What.”
He lets out a chuckle, sighing as he hugs your back to his chest and proceeds to make way to your seats, further boiling the heat building up your chest. “My sweet sweet Teddy.”
“What the hell is wrong with you!” You hiss, throwing your shoulder into his chest to continue to your seat under the eyes of the entirety of your class. Rounds of whispers sing around you, the usual confusion you’ve become accustomed to laced between every shared word.
He sits by your side, arm back around you in no time with a large smile, nodding and peering around the room to affirm that he meant what he just said.
Every cell in your body wants to explode, throw Jeno down onto the ground and crush his face under your foot. The squeeze around your shoulder curls you in further, wishing to be anywhere but here.
“Cold?” He asks, knowing that you aren’t, it’s a mere excuse to wrap himself around you more. His nose nuzzles against your hair, taking a deep inhale with a suffocating possessive hug wrapped tightly you. “Can’t have my Teddy get sick.”
･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･･ ⋆ ･
“Teddy.”
It’s shrill, nausea inducing, the way Jeno’s grown fond of this nickname for you.
The way he smiles and peers at you with some sick adoration as he calls you his teddy bear again.
While you feel trapped and disgusted, everyone else seems confused, peeved, and to be gossiping about the two of you.
Haechan’s girlfriend sports an ugly sneer when you walk by wrapped under one of Jeno’s arms; snapping the pencil in her hand into a broken half as he sets a kiss on your forehead, smirking at the round of gasps your schoolmates let out throughout the hallway.
“They’re all so jealous of you.”
They are jealous of you, watchful eyes speak volumes following your conjoined figures heading toward the parking lot.
Jeno has successfully transferred into nearly all of your classes, he picks you up and drops you off. Blows up your phone with texts and calls the second you’re apart. He doesn’t ask for updates or proof of what you’re doing, he demands it. Threats fall empty now, you don’t have much to say, he does the talking.
You listen.
“Our assignments are due next week.” He mutters, pulling away from the school in an opposite direction from where you live.
Our. Mine. His.
Nothing is yours anymore, Jeno made sure of that.
“I have to be home soon..”
“Oh yeah?” He lets out a breathy laugh, drumming the steering wheel while sat at a red light. “Last I checked you only have to be with me, your parents only call to check in on you once a week. They don’t have to know your location at all times teddy.”
Oh but he has to know. He knows everything about you, every excuse and lie you can concoct shot down by weeks of evidence collected while studying you from afar. Far enough for you to never catch on, too clueless because of your own insecurities to ever fathom that someone like Jeno could be obsessed with you.
“Besides, today is a special day.” He exclaims, driving into a gated community full of large three story houses resembling suburban mansions.
“How could you forget?” Jeno parks, moving to unbuckle your seatbelt. He sighs, pinching your chin to look at him. “It’s our one month.”
He pouts, bottom lip jutted out while blinking dumb and slow.
Sometimes you think that Jeno’s cute, and that makes you hate yourself more than anything. All you can do is avert your gaze, pretend he has no affect on you, keep up an act that he’s emptied you of any possible emotion; because he wants to destroy you. He wants you to feel helpless, wants you to rely on him because you have nothing else.
He’s pushing you inside of the house, digging into your knees from behind with his, built arms tightly wrapped around your waist. Suffocating you, that’s what he does, coating you in his scent, sucking out your energy throughout the duration of each day with the metaphoric needles he prickles you with. Every word that drips from his tongue feels like acid poured onto your flesh, burning through the layers to melt you deep inside until the pain goes numb.
His families house is enormous, spread out and fully furnished. Luxurious like some 5 star hotel, which Jeno hasn’t let you forget is only thanks to Haechan’s father for saving their ass.
‘My dad can’t afford this place anymore. The bank owns our house by now, but he’ll do anything to keep up appearances.’
That’s what he mentioned during lunch one day, ranting about how he can’t stand the way everyone ‘keeps up appearances’ around here; snickering disdainfully toward the table his former best friend sat at.
‘Especially him. Fake asshole.’
Jeno stops you in front of his bedroom door standing by itself in the hallway he’s led you through.
A dark empty hallway, away from all of the other bedrooms. Ominous and cold.
“You know the way, open the door teddy.”
Of course you know, it may as well be your bedroom at this point.
“I have a surprise for you.”
Jeno’s palms cover your eyes when you reach for the door handle, stiffening your spine as his chest knocks against your back to make you step further inside.
Inside of his bedroom it’s dimly lit, a chilled temperature; the air cools down your throat with every breath you take.
“Do you like it?” He’s smiling against the shell of your ear, whispering softly. Revealing with the drop of his hands a giant plushie sat on his bed against the corner; a human size teddy bear.
He knows you don’t like it, even the question sounds like a dare; a dare for you to say that you don’t like it, that you don’t like any of this.
You especially don’t like Jeno, or the way his palms brush down your arms, shifting to your waist to gather your top up. Bunching at your stomach as he begins to remove it from your body.
“There's more, Teddy.”
Of course there’s more.
The tips of his fingers slowly trail between your breasts, throwing your top off with ease because you don’t struggle. You let him take off your clothes whenever he wants.
Most times he doesn’t touch you much, but he counts, he memorizes. He traces over indentations from teeth buried into your skin and faded bruises left behind after fucking you roughly. He makes sure there are no others, only Jeno can mark you, only Jeno can see you like this.
He takes time discarding your bottoms, unbuttoning slowly, pushing the material down your hips even slower. Squatting down to his knees to pepper faint kisses on your hips and thighs as more your flesh comes to light; finishing off with a peck on your forehead when he stands and motions toward the plushie.
“Don’t you want the rest of your gift?”
You nod, just barely, taking a step toward the bed. Met with a hand clasped on your shoulder and a ‘nu-uh-uh Teddy’.
Jeno smirks, pushing on your shoulder. “On your knees.”
On your knees like the pet you’ve become. Crawling with your palms flattened onto the bed. Heating up knowing he’s behind you watching your underwear ride up your ass. It’s less humiliating now, he’s made you do worse.
A small black box sits between the teddy bear's legs, adorned with a glittery red bow.
“Open it.”
Hesitantly you pull apart the lid, pursing your mouth shut at the piece of jewelry inside.
A choker, a solid black thin choker you will no doubt have to wear around your neck everyday now. A choker with a teddy bear charm punctured in place through a small metal ring.
“Ah, I can tell you love it already.” He chuckles, ripping the box from your hold. Shoving your hair away to lean close and lock the clasp around the back of your neck. Grazing the edge of his nose on your jaw and cheek as he does, a silent reminder that you are his, and he will do whatever he pleases with you.
Jeno has a sardonic smirk stretching his lips as he takes you in, fingering the charm dangling just beneath your throat.
“My teddy bear.”
Tips of cold fingers trace your neck, following the pulse passing through your veins, it’s all just to push your buttons. Jeno wants a reaction, he craves your pitiful stares and miserable moans, he needs your pain to feel something.
You won’t give him that satisfaction, not anymore.
He sighs, pushing your shoulder to nudge you in the direction of the large plush. “Don’t think I’m letting you off easily for forgetting our special day either.”
God. How could he possibly care enough about you to count down the days you’ve been ‘together’ or whatever he considers this. “Now, show me how much you love your gift.” He says with a wink, tapping your ass and nudging his chin to the teddy bear laid between his pillows.
This has to be some sick kink of his, and it’s impossible to forget what he made you do in that abandoned classroom a month ago..
“Just like last time.” He hums, moving onto the bed with his knees. “I know you remember.”
It’s not necessarily watching you grind against a toy that ripples blood through his veins faster, filling up his cock until it weighs heavy and hot between his thighs; but the saddened broken image before him, with your gaze lowered in shame as you mount the plush and grit your teeth. It’s the shattered feeble look of defeat that fills his chest with warmth more than anything. “That’s it.”
Reaching to smooth up your spine, he pushes at the backs of your shoulders, shifting closer to sit behind you on his knees. “Wanna see you ride it up close.”
He works to guide your hips down onto the bears stomach, pushing hard until your core meets the soft material and you let out a shameful whimper. Biting down on his lip as he slaps your thigh, squeezing up your butt to your waist with instruction to move.
It’s vile, rolling your hips down at his command, growing short of breath as the friction builds up between your legs and his strong hands manipulate your movements. Tears spring past the corners of your eyes the faster he makes you move up and down, grinding your core along the life-size plushie full of humiliation and fear.
“Your ass looks so fucking good.” He groans deeply behind you, rubbing down your back to cup your buttcheeks in a squeeze. Gripping and kneading, parting you open to watch your rim flutter against your panties with each pathetic hump against the teddy bear. “I know I couldn’t be your first time teddy..”
He leans in, chin resting on your shoulder to halt your movements as he dips in past the cleft of your ass to find your hole. “But I’ll be the first to fuck your ass.”
The gasp you try to keep mute still reaches his ears, softly chuckling against you as he adjusts and slides your underwear to one side. “Consider it your gift to me for forgetting our special day.”
Some special fucking day..
“You’re so wet already, doubt I’ll even have to prep you.” Jeno whispers, nudging the tip of his thumb against your rim. “Looks really tight, what do you think? Should I be nice and stretch you open first?”
“Please..p-please, I’ve never..”
“Shh shh, don’t worry, I believe you.” He chuckles softly, pressing the blunt tip of his length against your entrance. “With how tight that pussy is, I know you’ve never let anyone inside your ass. It’ll be a special memory only for us..”
Is it special? The tingle building in your stomach seems to agree, relaxing against the plushy to arch your butt out more. It has to be a Pavlovian response by now, conditioned to seek this pleasure Jeno provides you. Even if you hate accepting it. It’s not your fault that your body's natural response is to crave his touch, and spread your legs wider for it.
“I’ll be nice.” There’s amusement in the way he says it, like he doesn’t believe himself either. Slapping the mass of his cock down between the dip in your ass, cursing through clenched teeth. “You may not show it, but your cunt never lies.”
The bulbous tip swipes down, pressing against your clit, pushing your knees to slide open an inch more. It’s all taunting and teasing, running the fat cockhead between your chubbed folds, dipping it into your entrance just to watch you squirm and rut back for more. “Greedy pussy, acting like I don’t fuck you enough.”
He mumbles, smacking the underside of his length between your thighs. The wet clap stinging under the weight of his heavy size beating down on your swollen core. “J-Jeno..”
“Something wrong teddy?” He tuts, hips rolling up, gripping your buttcheeks to sandwich around his length. “You sound.. impatient.”
He gulps, trapping his cock under his thumbs to fuck between your buttcheeks faster. Wet tip prodding out, spilling precum down making the glide even easier. Each thrust passing over your pussy hole and rim makes your thighs tremble, burying your face deeper into the teddy bears neck. “Mmmph..”
“I know it hurts you Teddy..” Jeno’s words rasp against the back of your neck. Bending forward to paint your warm flesh with a coat of moisture. Sweat, raw sex and saliva combine, sticking your skin and his mouth together like hot glue. “Why do you have to be so good at taking it though? Huh?”
Breath fans your upper back, the drag of his tongue races across your shoulders to bite down a groan on one. Notable effort to make you squirm and scream becomes more prevalent with each smack of his hips against your ass, grunting deeper the more he exerts. “It’s because you like me, right?” He asks between the sound of a struggled laugh, gasping with another slide of his thick length passing between your thighs. “You’re drenching me sweetheart, making a fucking mess of my sheets. You know what I’m gonna have to do later?”
He’s silent for a few seconds, panting heavily as his tongue trails to lick the column of your throat. The glide of his cock between your thighs is disgustingly loud, squishing and splashing in volumized echoes around his bedroom. “Your lack of response is becoming predictable, you know.”
His lower half snaps, protruding hip bones beat against your backside. A gut crunching sensation curls up your chest, unable to deny the slick gush continuously leaking out of you and coating your ass and thighs the more frantic his motions become. “Can’t wash these sheets again, need to savor it. Remind you of how much you enjoyed it. How you finally gave in and accepted this fate.”
“N-no..”
“What was that?” Jeno asks breathlessly, gripping the base of his girth to position the tip against your rim. “You want more, don’t you?”
He presses in, watching his wet slit disappear past your asshole. “Ahh, no!! S-stop!”
He snickers, angling the tip to stretch your tight ring of muscle. “Relax. It’s going to hurt a lot if you don’t relax.”
“Please..go slow..” you sigh, biting on the plushy when he nudges more.
“Be calm teddy. You want this?” He drags the sharp edges of his well-filed nails down your ass painfully, surely leaving marks behind. “Want my face shoved in your ass, huh? That’s why you’re whining so much.”
Jeno always has a way of speaking to you during these intimate moments. So cold and uncaring. The icy tone breaking your skin out in goosebumps. Even with your mouth sucking around the teddy bears arm, you whimper, the urge to cry spiking as he removes your panties and lands a sharp strike down on your ass.
“Bent over all pretty for me teddy, you arch that butt out like such a good little slut.” His palm smooths down lower, patting your wet folds to make you listen to how wet you are from this alone. “Who knows, after this I might not even bother with your pussy anymore. Have my own brand new unused hole to fuck now.”
He teases, swiping your clit side to side, dragging the tips of your fingers between your cunt to prod at your entrance. “You’re so wet, I love how fucking wet you get.”
A shaky breath leaves your lips as he twists two fingers inside and buries in knuckle deep, pressing his thumb to your asshole. “Such a perfect slut for me, ready to be my anal whore.” Jeno pulls out and lands a slap down on your rim, hard enough for the sound to clap out around his bedroom. Your hips drop from the sudden impact, biting down a scream into the plushy. “Enough of that, I wanna hear you.”
Wrapping around your waist, he manhandles you easily onto the center of his bed. Laid down on your back softly for him to get a good look at you, for you to finally see him. He’s big, broad, looming over you in the dim light illuminating from the corner of his room. The strokes of yellow paint across his chest and muscle, the darkness pronouncing deep indentations of muscle lining his abdomen and arms. Jeno falls forward, catching himself above you with his biceps bracketing your head, smiling as he leans in to kiss the fresh tears lining your cheeks.
“As much as I wanna bend you over and fuck your ass like there’s no tomorrow.. “ he slows to kiss up from your chin to where droplets have pooled under the hollows of your eyes. Sucking up and kissing the wetness there, enjoying it more than you’d be able to comprehend. “Nothings better than watching your face when I fuck every inch of my cock inside..”
The pure joy glaring back at you from his dark glass irises rains more tears down your face, sniffling and shaking as he licks them clean and squishes your lips out. “Relax sweetheart, it’ll feel good for both of us. Promise.”
Thin digits run down from your jawline, tracing past your neck and over the mounds of your breasts. Jeno adjusts your position to haul one of your thighs up, using his shoulder to keep your knee pressed against the bed. He makes a show of bringing his hand up to his mouth, sucking around three fingers, dragging his sloppy wet tongue between each with laser focused eyes locked on yours.
“You’re so good for me teddy, gonna let me use that pretty ass..” the way he holds you open exposes both of your holes, hovering past your swollen wet cunt to press two fingers against the clench of your asshole. “Just one baby..”
He presses the tip of one slicked up digit in, breaching the tight little muscle until you whine desperately. “Feels so warm..” Jeno’s eyes flutter, thick black eyelashes still visible in the low light. He sounds throaty, hungry, exasperated and needy. Quietly muttering to himself about how good your tight hole feels as he begins to pull his finger in and out slowly. “Bet your pussy was even tighter than this when you were still a virgin.”
His voice comes out a lot more harsh, gravelly, guiding another finger in with the next stroke. They scissor through and flutter against your inner walls, tugging lightly at your rim as he dips out to the just the tips. “You’re opening up great for me sweetheart. Do you see how you always listen so good?”
Jeno sits on his knees like a predator catching his prey after a long meticulous hunt. Prodding another tip past your rim alongside the two, the muscles lining his arm rippling, exerting more strength to not push them in all at once. “Tell me teddy, are you desperate enough for me to even let me claim your ass?”
Your throat dries, pursing your lips together to quell the moan that nearly spills out. It’s a new type of full, sneaking peeks at the veins running down his inner forearm leading to the fingers working you open. A wash of shame and heat streaks down your limbs, shivering when Jeno draws his digits free, dangling them above your ass.
“I know you are.” He lands another slap between your thighs, making your extended leg jerk. Fixing his angle to line the tip of his cock with your rim, the large blunt tip presses down, having to tuck your lips in to not scream. “..but I want to hear you say it.”
The head of his cock nudges in, pulling a gasp from your chest. Jeno bends closer to grab your jaw, shake your head around until you look at him. “Tell me to fuck your ass.”
“I’m—“ your voice sounds unrecognizable, squeaking out brokenly, overpowering the one you’re used to. “I—‘wan—“
Bending in closer, the pull up your hamstring burns, further pushing your leg against the bed. He pushes in another inch, the bulbous tip nearly fully entering, skin stretched taut around him. “You can do it, I know you can do it. Tell me sweetheart.”
“F-fuck—“ you pause, the last bits of your mind slipping away to another dimension. “Fuck m-my ass, please—fuck my a-ass.”
A sick pleased smile lifts the corners of his lips, bumping the tip of his nose to yours. Jeno doesn’t fuck the rest of his length in immediately the way you expect, slowly pushing each inch to savor the snap around his shaft.
It’s when his hips bump against the backs of your thighs that you finally take in a deep breath you didn’t know you were holding. Panting out heavily and wide eyed when you can feel the entirety of his cock fully sheathed inside of you.
It’s when Jeno begins to pull out that you bite down to keep in a scream, lifting up on his forearms caged around your head to watch his length draw free. It feels like he’s splitting you in two and he hasn’t even really gotten into it yet. It goes on like that for a minute or two, his head hung, black hair in your face, awestruck by your rim sucking around his dick each time he pulls out to the tip. He gains speed slowly, snapping his hips forward for the first time. Jolting your spine to arch up and finally release a tiny scream you can’t hold in any longer.
“Pussys making such a mess teddy..” Jeno rasps, throwing his head back, pink lips hung open. “Fuck, you’re dripping down to my balls. Love getting fucked up the ass.”
Every thought racing through your mind dissolves, blank and empty as you crane your neck to the side to get a look at what he’s going on about. Embarrassment flushes down your face, unconsciously clamping down on his length plunging in faster. The powerful snap of his hips rocking you deep into his bed, surrounded by Jeno Jeno Jeno. His smell, his touch, his mouth and his meaty girth stretching you open. It’s become something you expect, something you’d feel weird without now, Jeno.
It burns when he buries in deep, grabbing onto the back of your knee for better control. The stretch feels more and more overwhelming with each pass of his cock manipulating your tight ring of muscle further. Digging his knees steadily into the bed, he picks up the pace and kicks his hips forward to fuck in to the hilt.
“Love fucking your ass. Love fucking you.” Jeno’s eyes clench shut, blinking quickly to open them and shove his forehead against yours. “Love you.”
God it makes your stomach churn, half pulled into a pleasure that feels too good to be true; sickened by how good it feels to be impaled by his fat cock. Half suffocated by the rushing swarm of emotions lassoing your brain, tightening until you feel ready to burst. And Jeno again with the fucking L word, dropping it like nothing, making sure you feel each syllable through his girth splitting you open.
The push and pull against your clenching rim feels painful, feels good, makes your head spin. He eats it up, licking across your lips, trapping the bottom between his teeth to suck on. Nose dragging down your cheek, lapping the tears, sweat and spit painting your face. It should feel disgusting, you should feel repulsed, but this behaviors become so standard now. Jeno’s like a puppy sometimes, burying his face in your neck, searching for a place to lay new kisses.
Even during these times when he’s on top of you, pushing his cock in deep enough to bruise your cervix, your fingers itch to touch him. He usually does it for you, grabs your wrists and forces your hands to drag down his face, kissing the inside of your palms and wrists.
He seems more intent on kissing you right now, letting ragged breaths fans across your lips between light pecks. “Can you cum like this?” He asks, murmuring against your mouth.
“I—I d-don’t know..” you really don’t. It’s your first time and the pleasures surging all over in different directions, racing between pain and confusion back to arousal and need.
“You can.” Jeno whispers, lowering his face to your neck, gaze focused on your connected lower halves. “You’re so wet.”
Fingers trail down your stomach, softly skimming over your clit before easing between your folds. He sinks two inside, thumb rubbing your clit in a simultaneous motion, filling you from both ends. “Ugh! Yeah just like that sweetheart..”
Jeno snaps forward, trying to match the rhythm of his hips to his fingers. He bites down on your jugular, panting heavily against your throat. The burn of the stretch crashes against waves of pleasure, twitching up with each rough rub at your clit.
“I’m—I’m c-cumm—“ the sob you break off into has him moving faster akin to a feral animal. The weight of his bulky frame lands down on you hard enough to make his bed shake, headboard slam against the wall. Each brush of his thumb at your clit feels more sensitive than the last, sending you over the edge, mind blank beyond the grip your ass has around his cock. “Ahh!”
The wetness spilling out past his fingers slides all the way down to your lower back, further solidifying your humiliation. Because he’s right, you are wet just from this, loving your ass stuffed full. Drowning in the sensation of his length ramming in and out.
“Squeeze that fuckhole around me so good teddy, cum cum—“ Jeno chants manically, throwing his hips down rough and fast. Pressing down your clit harshly between viscous flicks, rolling the stiff nub until your toes curl.
You spill over quickly, writhing under his weight as the pressure of wetness pushes his fingers out of your cunt. The orgasm rolls through you like no other, rolling your eyes to the back of your skull. Thinking you’ve passed off into the afterlife if not for the way he draws back and pounds into your ass.
“You like it?!” Jeno’s expression morphs into one of anger, black eyebrows furrowed together. He grabs your face again, chasing after his release still slamming his cock in deep. “You like getting fucked up the ass?”
The questions pointed, furious. The face of frustration and anger only there to mask how close he is to falling apart, reaching a new high as he charges to the peak.
“L-love it, yes..” you barely whisper, tear filled eyes blinking the moisture away to watch his features contort and crumble. His pace turns erratic, breath quickening fast enough for his chest to beat up and down. Letting out a deep growl, Jeno comes to a still, mouth hung open letting a chopped up groan roll off his tongue. His cock thrums wildly against your inner walls, flooding your ass with warm white cum you’ve had poured inside of your cunt for weeks.
The little sounds dripping from his lips sounds anguished, whimpering when he thrusts in one more time to ensure his cums evenly painted your insides. “Love you so much..”
His eyes fall shut, nose dug into your cheek catching his breath. The tips of your fingers tingle again, itching and burning to comb through his soft dark locks, to smooth the sweaty strands off his forehead. It feels like the right thing to do.. maybe with anyone else.
But you want it to feel right with Jeno..
He grumbles, littering kisses down your cheek to the corner of your mouth. “Gonna pull out, okay?”
You don’t respond, not even a nod, only hissing through your teeth as you gape and the now cooled down semen trickles out of your ass disgustingly, really cementing what you’ve just done. What you’ve let him do to you again.
Jeno hums softly, laying by your side without a worry, seeming pleased and full of life judging by the small smile on his face. “Happy anniversary teddy.” He reaches for your hand, scrabbling to entwine your fingers when you try to pull away.
“What’re you thinking about?” He murmurs, shifting closer to your side as you curl into yourself to get further away. “I don’t even have to ask. I’m sure I can throw out a wild guess..”
He lets out a long sigh, huffing a quiet laugh. “You’re not as good at masking your emotions as you may think.. You have to erase those old memories you have of Haechan. He’s not a good guy.” Jeno remarks, nudging his elbow against your side. “He’s a bad person.”
“You are no better..” You accuse, a bit surprised, whispering with your mouth pressed against his bed. The last person you’re thinking about right now is Haechan(..maybe). Jeno’s smile only grows wider, tickled to hear you talking back finally.
“There’s a difference between me and him.” He says surely, slinging an arm around your waist, hooking his chin over your shoulder as he presses in close to whisper. “He changed to please everyone. I just don’t care anymore.”
“You’re both terrible people..”
Jeno sighs, smile still evident in his tone, leaning closer kissing your ear. “I love you.”
“Stop saying that.” You mutter, digging your elbow back to push space between you.
“Why would I do that?” Smoothing your arm down, he kisses the end of your jaw, licking your earlobe. “I love you, I know you won’t say it back, but that won’t stop me from letting you know that I love you.” He cozies up against you, yawning. “Get some rest, we have that test to pass tomorrow.”
･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･･ ⋆ ･
Jeno has that look on his face again, the one that shifts from raunchy to feral hunger, the one that has him reaching to grab you in less than a second.
“I’m still sore..”
“I barely even touched your pussy.” He says cocking an eyebrow, phone dinging in his pocket over and over again. “Was I too mean teddy?” His palm swipes down the curve of your ass, cupping your buttcheek.
Ding. Ding. Ding.
He groans, smacking your butt lightly before reaching to free his phone.
“Shit, my dad’s blowing up my phone.” He huffs annoyed, swiping through paragraphs of text messages. Most yelling at him in all caps lock for not answering his phone. “He needs me to pick up some files from his home office, says it’s urgent. Something about an accident..”
Frustrated, he hoists his bag and adjusts yours on his other arm, nodding toward the end of the hall. “Come on.”
“Jeno, the test—I can’t!”
He sets you with a look that nearly makes you crumble, ready to succumb and follow his orders. “Please, you know my grades..”
Dragging the tip of his tongue between his teeth, he sighs deep and loud, pinching the skin between his eyebrows together. “Fine.”
What?
He looks irritated, upper lip twitching stretched over his teeth trying to control his anger. “But I’ll try to come back later to pick you up. If you take longer than a minute to reply to me, I swear to fucking God—“
“I won’t!” You almost add a ‘thank you’, biting down on your tongue to stop yourself. “I’ll keep my phone within view shot in case of anything..”
Jeno rubs at his temples, shoulders visibly trembling. “Fuck. Whatever. Fine.”
He stops to take in your elated expression, cupping your cheeks, thumbs caressing your soft skin. “Don’t forget, I love you.”
You won’t say it back, he knows you won’t, but he waits for a minute, a flicker of hope passing behind his gaze. “Good luck on your test, I know you don’t need it teddy.”
He leans in and kisses you, full control on his end. Making a real show of it by shoving his tongue down your throat right in the middle of the hallway where everyone watches and whispers nasty remarks. He wants them to see, he wants certain people to see especially. Public display of affection had never been something you enjoyed, or even experienced before Jeno, but he made it something you had to learn to endure.
“Be good.” He says quietly, warningly, slipping your bag from his shoulder. “I’ll see you soon.”
You nearly risk being late to class just to watch him leave, having to run to make it on time. The first time you’ve been alone in days, weeks even. Sitting down at your desk with a sense of relief, a crippling weight lifted off your spine. This test would be a breeze without him there to breath down your neck.
It is really crazy how you turn to the empty seat next to you numerous times though, fully expecting to see him there waiting for the next answer. Finishing off your exam without handing it over to Jeno to ensure he copied all of your answers felt odd, peering at your phone over and over again expecting notifications only to have none.
So. This is life without him. Normal? Not anxiety inducing? Nothing to fear or worry about..
You should know better though, exiting your class blindsided by Haechan leaping in front of you, hooking his arm around yours. “You. In here. NOW.”
“Haechan?! What the hell!” You cough, waving at dust that lifts from the janitor closet floor. Cleaning supplies and clutter surround you, setting in how claustrophobic you feel when he slams the door shut and locks it.
“We need to talk. Right now.”
“About what?!” Pushing him off, you stumble back and glare. Watching his face fall at the sight of your anger.
“About this.” He says, reaching for the charm adorning your neck, flicking the teddy bear. “What’s this bullshit all about? What are you dating Jeno now?? What the fuck is wrong with the two of you.”
“The two of us?! There’s nothing wrong with me?! It’s your fault any of this is even happening to me!” You screech, slapping his hand away.
“My fault?! You low lives are threatening to ruin my future and it’s somehow MY fault??” Haechan bellows, grabbing your upper arms.
“Low lives?”
He scoffs, shaking you with his firm hold. “Don’t change the subject! What the fuck if your problem, huh? Are you making him do this? You two need money that badly?”
Haechan could have just asked about your relationship with Jeno if he really cared. He would have noticed how different you’ve been looking and acting if he really ever cared about you.
“Everything’s about money to you..” you mutter, gaze hanging low.
“To me?! I’m the one being threatened here!” He says in disbelief, burning holes into your face with a crazed look. “I don’t need any money from you or him.”
No. You don’t need anything, do you? Everything’s about you. You you you you…
Jeno was right all along.
“You seriously think I want your fucking money Haechan?!?” You shout, breaking out of his hold to shove him back. “What about me, asshole?!? Do you even give a shit about me! No, you don’t! Because I embarrass you that much, huh?”
“What are you even going on about.” Rolling his eyes, he grabs your wrists before you can pummel him with your fists, teeth gritted. “Of course I give a shit about you, why do you think I’m here?! He’s always hovering around you! It’s impossible to get near you anymore.”
“You’re only here because you think I’m weak.”
“Weak?” Haechan repeats, tossing your arms down. “He’s really brainwashed you, yeah? Made you believe I’m the bad guy here? I’m not the one money hungry enough to destroy years of friendship over some petty jealousy!”
“He hasn’t brainwashed me.” You snap back, nearly adding a lie to make yourself feel better. He doesn’t talk about Haechan that much, and he’s not that jealous..
“Oh yeah? Than what the fuck is this?” His fingers aim for your choker again, sliding the tips under to press along your pulse. “Wearing a collar like a good little bitch?”
“It’s a gift.”
Haechan’s mouth parts in surprise, cocking an eyebrow. “You really like that psychopath, I can’t believe this.”
“Fuck you.” You bite back, wrapping around his wrists. “You have no right to assume anything about me.”
“And me? What about me, huh?” He says soft and low, leaning in closer. “I thought you liked me.”
“You did?” You ask, a bit surprised. You hadn’t made it that obvious, right?
“So, you don’t?” Haechan’s gaze flickers to yours, peering between each of your eyes confused. “Ever since we were kids I thought..”
“Do you like me? Did you ever?”
“Always, I always have.” He says surely, tugging out of your grip. “Not that it matters.”
“W-Why?” You stutter, feeling heat rush to your face. “Because y-you won’t do anything about it? Because I’m nothing but a low life, right?!”
Haechan steps closer, locking you in place against him with his arms tightening around your waist. “You’re not, okay? I’m just mad about Jeno..”
You hate getting angry, because you hate to show how weak you really are, cursing at the first batch of tears that pour from your eyes. You punch at his chest, letting out a tired sob. Tired because of this, everything, tired of holding onto something you never had. “It’s all your fault. He wouldn’t even care about me if it wasn’t for you.”
“What’s my fault?! That your boyfriend’s a certified nut job??”
“This isn’t about him! He’s not my boyfriend!”
“Oh yeah?” Haechan squeezes you in, inching his face closer to yours. “So, you won’t care if I do this.”
The same lips you dreamt about for years come closer, a breath away from finding yours. He pauses to watch your reaction, eyelashes fluttering up and down expecting you to do something to get away. Because Jeno’s girlfriend wouldn’t let another guy kiss her, especially not his new enemy.
It’s nothing like your dreams when he finally goes for it, he’s not soft and nice, he doesn’t move against your mouth like he belongs there. The kiss is rough, fast, sloppy, needy and aggressive. He sees his chance and takes it, sliding his tongue in past your lips as you gasp, lowering his hands to your ass with a fierce squeeze. His dreams had been to strip your innocence, watch your fall apart and scream while he fucked you deep. Nothing like the fairytale stories you’d imagined. Each pass of his tongue against yours indicates his desire, forcing your arms out of his hold to reach for his hair, fisting it and pulling as hard as you can.
“Ahhh! Ahh! Stop!” He whines, lips already swollen.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” You sneer, coiling tendrils between your digits, pulling until his neck arches back and a high-pitched squeak breaks free from his mouth.
“I knew it.” He grits, eyes thinning into a glare. “You’re fucking him, aren’t you?”
“Is that what this is about?! You just need to have everything Jeno has?!”
“You are the one falling for that freak.” Haechan spits, slapping your ass. “Everyone knows Jeno fucks like a fucking crazed beast, you’re not as innocent as I thought.”
“I’m not fucking him.” Technicalities..
“Yeah? And why should I believe you?” He plays with the hem of your skirt, tickling at the skin there. “You say that you like me and yet here you are holding back. I think you’re a liar, trying to protect your crazy boyfriend..”
“He’s not my boyfriend.”
“Yeah?” Haechan steps back, leaning against a shelf full of cleaning products. Reaching below his waist to unbuckle his belt. A bulge sits beneath his zipper, slowly lowering it with his eyes on yours. “Get on your knees.”
“What!?”
He snickers, shoving his boxers and jeans down under his balls. “I said get on your knees.”
He has the audacity to wear a cocky grin, tilting his head back onto the shelf as he begins to gently stroke his cock to full mass. You have to look, have to lick your lips at the sight of his length beginning to chub up in his hold. It’s not enough to subside your anger, marching forward to slam his shoulders back against the shelf. “Who do you think you are?!”
“A guy you like.” He says, voice low, staring at your lips. “A guy who likes you.”
This certainly isn’t normal by any means, you know that, but that doesn’t stop the extra skip in your heartbeat. Doesn’t stop your eyes from trailing down Haechan’s face to where he sucks on his bottom lip, letting it go and bounce shiny with spit. “Now.” Reaching for your mouth, he slides a thumb across your lower lip, pushing down on the fatty center. “Get. On. Your. Knees.”
There’s a cruel edge to his tone, watching you crumble and slip down onto the floor, eye-level to his length. “Don’t act surprised. This is what you want.”
You don’t know what to say, watching your knees settle on the ground before looking up. He strokes at his size lazily, the tip right between your eyes. Nowhere near as big as Jeno, that’s for sure..
“You’ve always had such a pretty mouth, always used it to talk so much shit.” He smirks confidently, bringing the tip closer to your pouty lips. “What are you waiting for?”
Haechan even smells rich from down here, clean, trimmed pubes, a slight musk wafting off his sack. Jeno’s a little different, he’s always hairless, always smells clean in a soft and inviting way. You think he keeps himself extra tidy to entice you more, but maybe that’s just him. Maybe this is just Haechan..
“D-do you have protection?”
“Huh??” He says, surprised, shrugging and reaching for his wallet. “Yeah, whatever.”
He sounds a little ticked off, flicking the condom at your pressed together thighs. Not putting up an argument either way. It’s been awhile since you’ve had to use one of these, and as you unwrap the package you start to wonder why..
Clearing your throat, you nervously reach to grip around the middle of his length. It’s not as heavy in your hold, not as thick, a lot smoother with less prominent veins. The condom rolls down fine, aided by a layer of lube that will surely taste disgusting sliding down your tongue. He’s hissing above you, eyebrows scrunched together focused on your hands and robotic expression, wondering if you’re lying about everything..
“Come on.” Haechan says desperately, reaching to thumb your lip again, a lot messier and more eager. “You want my cock, don’t you?”
Leaning in, you test the feel of it, sliding the tip across your upper lip. Slowly craning your neck up to watch his face fall apart. “Say it. Wanna hear you say it.”
He grips your hair, fingers tingling through your scalp, forcing your neck back further. Plump lips hang open above you, breathily moaning, stuck on his cock dragging your lower lip open. “Say you want my cock like the pathetic fucking slut you are.”
That flicks your eyes open fully, rising from your knees quickly with a tight grasp around his size. “What did you just say to me?!”
Haechan’s jaw hangs limp in shock, letting out a shattered moan when you pull at his length roughly. “Turn the fuck around.”
He listens without even trying to resist, grabbing onto one of the shelfs with your fist still circled around him. “S-sorry.. I thought..”
“Shut the fuck up Haechan.” Grabbing his wrists, you loop them both back and trap them in place against his lower back. Reaching lower with your free hand to smooth over his ass.
“Now, repeat that? What did you just say to me?”
He shakes, turning his face to the side to watch you from the corner of his eye. “Nothing nothing! I take it back!”
“Are you sorry?” You whisper, nipping at his jaw. Fingers skimming between the crevice between his ass.
The vibrations soaring off his body intensify, trembling harder, breathing through his nose gruffly. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” He chants, breaking off into a whimper.
He doesn’t know what you wish he was sorry for. Delivering a slap to his ass and watching it bounce back against the collision, you hum lowly.
“Come here.” He’s easy to whip around, shivering from head to toe excitedly. Ankles weak to walk on as if he could cum already, making it easy to push him down onto the floor.
“Fuck, you’re crazy..” he whimpers, laying back and kicking his legs to get his pants off. He looks more pathetic than the first time you ever met him, sobbing under you, crying for you to let him go.
“It’s your fault.” You mutter, pushing your skirt and underwear off to mount his hips without restraint. “Wish I’d never met you.” You hiss, reaching for his chin to dig your fingers into his cheeks. He blinks up at your blearily, the bright light above you staining his face in a white translucent shade, eyes lost and glossy. He’s pretty, so so so pretty, makes your chest burn and ache. He’s always been pretty, eyelashes fanning across his cheeks slowly with each blink, plump lips shoved out for you to capture.
“You’re so sexy.” He mutters, struggling under your rough grip. “If I’d known—“
“If you had known what?” You sneer, slapping his cheek hard enough for his head to snap to the side, eyes bewildered and surprised.
“Fuck you’re..” he spits, bending forward at his neck to watch your core sit down on his length. “Ahh.. shit I’m still!—” He splutters, head dropping back, hips rutting up as you start to slide against his cock.
It’s easy to take control and feel powerful on top of him like this, shifting back to grab his knees and push them up. “Stay still.” You demand, using force to push the pits of his knees down and hold yourself up. Haechan whimpers from the change in position, feeling small and confined under your figure sitting above him.
“Fuck I’m—not gonna last long. You’re too much.” He’s such a whiny sniveling mess, drooling down his chin, cock twitching against your cunt.
“You like that?” Hoisting yourself up against his legs, you lift enough to line the tip of his cock up to your entrance, hips trembling as you begin to lower and breach your hole.
“Ahhh! Fuck!” Haechan screams pretty, high-pitched, unashamed. His head tosses back fully exposing his Adam’s apple, dainty collarbones. He’s nothing now, nothing but a groveling whore begging to be fucked.
“Say it.” You say full of threat, struggling to keep yourself held up, clawing your nails into the sides of his knees. “Beg me to fuck you.”
The softest cracked moan spills from his red juicy mouth, face dropped to the side looking at you with half-lidded drunk eyes. “Please please, please fuck me.”
He’s nothing, and he could easily be yours.
It’s so easy to mount him, to bury the rest of his length inside of you. It’s less of a struggle to take him than you’re used to, filling you to the brim with a wet splash against his pelvis where you land. He whines and moans through it, making you work to ride his cock faster.
Haechan looks brainless, gorgeous, stupid as fuck with his tongue hung out lavving at the drool pouring from the corners of his lips. Sweaty hands push yours off his knees, holding himself open wider to free your hands. The burn running up your thighs calms as you grab onto his chest and ball his shirt between your fists, short of breath the faster you work to fall into a rhythm.
“Faster, come on, fuck me faster!” He grunts under you, voice loud and ragged over the thunderous clap of your ass crashing down on him.
“Shut the fuck up whore.” You bite, reaching to wrap around his neck for better leverage. Pretty brown eyes go wide, gasping for breath as you tighten around his throat until his head shakes and he sounds empty of air. His cock thrums wildly, urging you to slam down harder, rock your hips faster. The veins along his forehead expand the more he struggles to breathe, mouth hung wide open like nothing but a dumb slut. “Only sluts get off f-from being choked.”
He nods weakly, coughing and groaning, sweaty fingers slipping on and off his legs. “Yes yes, ahhh g-gonna cum.”
“If you cum before me I’ll bite your dick off.” You spit out angrily, freeing his neck to clasp his chin and bury your fingers inside of his slutty mouth. “You useless slut.”
Haechan’s eyes roll back, tongue lapping between your digits, balls colliding with your ass with each heavy thrust. “Ah—ahh!” He gurgles and spits, making a mess around your fingers. “Pl-please!”
The hold on his knees slips free, arms flopping down to his sides, legs landing on the ground hard with rapid tremors shooting through. “Shit!” You grunt, stilling as his length pulses and warmth fills the condom, sliding off before any of it can pour out inside of you. “What did I fucking say?!”
Anger and arousal combined feel similar to a slasher film. Murderous and frightening, craving death around the corner as the music changes to warn you as the next kill approaches. Haechan lays under you out of breath, face covered in sweat and saliva, cock pathetically twitching against his stomach. “Selfish.”
Snapping the condom band into place, you settle back down on his length, making him shout out and shake his head. “No no! That hurts!”
“I said shut the fuck up.” Bending in, you reach for his hair, fisting handfuls to pull on and control the speed of your hips. So useless, so stupid and useless, you deserve better than this. Better than someone who can’t even control his own needs to make sure you both finish and reach pleasure.
Tears brim his eyes as you rock down and roll your cunt against his half-hard soaked cock. The friction of creamy wet rubber rutting against his length more painful than enjoyable at this point, springing droplets down his cheeks.
“You’re so weak.” He nods, has the nerve to agree with you. Biting down on his plush bottom lip to compress a sob, glossy eyes blinking tears out faster.
The broken sight of him sends shivers up your spine, jabbing the tip of his cock against your clit in rapid motion until your hole convulses and draws out a much deserved orgasm.
“Holy shit..” he wheezes out breathlessly, the back of his head hitting the floor painfully as you abruptly release him and move to the side.
Satisfaction courses through your veins, along with something else weighing heavy on your mind..
That was.. interesting. Is that the word you’re looking for? Interesting.
Patting the floor for your skirt, you immediately grab your phone. Jeno hasn’t texted yet. Even more interesting, something really must be wrong with his dad.. you should send him a message first. He might need you right now. Why the hell do you care about what he needs..
“Hey, let’s keep this between us.” Haechan disrupts your inner monologue, patting your shoulder. “Don’t need Jeno seriously spreading those photos around and whatever else he’s blackmailing me with.”
“Does your dad know about your drug use?” You ask, sliding your arm away from his touch.
He frowns, nose wrinkling annoyed. “Why the fuck would he know about that?!”
Because you’re a spoiled brat. Surprised that daddy even cares about his privileged son ruining his future, blowing his father’s hard earned money on more white shit to snort up his nose.
You shrug, buttoning up your shirt. “I guess you have a lot of secrets.”
Like me.
You are one of Haechan’s secrets if you think about it.. his secrets stemming from shame it seems. Because he’s ashamed of you, of the part of his life you remind him of.
“Whatever.” He scoffs, standing uncomfortably, nervously scratching his head.
“Don’t worry.” You reassure, picking up your belongings and grabbing the door handle. “There’s nothing your secrets can provide for me. See you later?”
His frown deepens, chewing on his bottom lip and shrugging. “Whatever.”
“Goodbye Haechan.”
You leave first, emotions unsettled and scattered as you walk down the hall to your locker. It’s nearing the end of the day, thankful that Haechan only made you miss gym class. Jeno always takes longer to fuck you, he likes to make sure you always get off, sometimes he doesn’t even finish..
Jeno. Shit.
‘Waiting for you by the north gate entrance.’
Shit shit shit. What the fuck. Jeno said he wasn’t sure if he’d be able to pick you up today, or that he’d try to, whatever. Not even a heads up?! Nothing to warn you??
Fuck, what if you smell like Haechan?! Knowing Jeno he’d be able to tell. There’s no way you can come up with something quick enough to get him off your ass, another text alerts you demanding for you to hurry up.
‘If you’re not out here in the next 50 seconds I’m coming inside.’
Fuck. You really fucked up this time, fear picks up your pace to jog through the hallway corridor faster, dodging your classmates bodies left and right until you near the exit short of breath and look out to see your… Jeno, stepping out from the driver’s seat.
“There you are.” He smiles, a big smile, the type that reaches his eyes. The one that’s for show, for others to coo and aww at. The one that garners close-to-ear whispers behind hands and eyes bouncing back and forth from you to Jeno.
‘Why her?’
Everyone asks, everyone wants to know. You never asked before, until one day the voices broke you down and found yourself constantly asking- ‘why me?’
You’d never ask Jeno, you never ask him anything.. but right now, as you nervously force your lips into a measly smile, the cramp forming in your stomach nearly makes you trip down the grass hill leading to where his cars parked awaiting you with the passenger door open.
“That’s funny.” Jeno says under his breath, leaning in to wrap around your waist. “You never smile at me.” He whispers near your ear, taking a step back to look over your face. “What’s up?”
The way his head tilts scrutinizing your face makes your chest cave, lips pressed together tightly as his eyelashes lower over his iris the more he lowers toward your neck; the collar of your shirt saves you of any fear that Haechan left behind any incriminating evidence of what took place less than an hour ago.
“Hmm..” Jeno reaches forward before you have a chance to react, tugging you closer by the fanned edges of your collared shirt. “Now why is your top button undone..”
He can see the way your throat jumps, hollowing out between your collarbones with each dry nervous swallow. “And your necklace.”
Your choker, he means. Fuck your choker. The lucid memory of Haechan angrily pulling on the teddy charm adorning the strap squeezing your neck makes your teeth grit, hidden behind your quivering lips.
“Strange.” Jeno’s eyebrows gather together, the gleam in his eyes darkening despite afternoon sun illuminating down on him, highlighting every defined flawless attractive feature. “You’ve never disobeyed me this much before.”
“Wha—“
“You know you’re supposed to always have this uncovered. Why did I dip into my savings and risk getting chewed out by my dad? For you to try to make me a secret?” Jeno finishes buttoning your shirt back up, digits reaching beneath the leather to adjust the charm’s position while adding more pressure, losing the tiny centimeter of space between your neck and the material. “Did something happen while I was gone?”
“No!” Your reactions too fast, fast enough to fully widen his eyes, mouth tensed as he meets your gaze. “I—I had to.. to participate..”
“In what?”
“Physical Ed.. you know I always sit out with you.” Jeno watched your choice of physical activity: yoga, for less than a week before deciding this form of education benefited you in no way. Something about those ridiculous yoga pants you wear for class only seemed to distract a group of guys in the weight lifting class across the gym. He concocted doctor's slips for the both of you to sit out and study instead. “Coach didn’t let me today.. she said there's no way my period cramps last all month. I must have forgotten to fix my necklace after getting dressed, I’m sorry..”
Jeno nods, smoothing his thumb over your warm cheek, hot from anxiety rising the longer you stand there and risk the chance of running into Haechan on his way home. “That bitch. I’ll deal with her tomorrow.”
He pauses again, a contemplative look taking over as he reaches for your hair and smooths down fly aways. “No wonder you look sweaty. Must have been working hard, using all of your body and stamina.” Jeno’s tone lowers to a whisper, gently pressing under your lash line. “Even smeared your mascara..”
“I really should take a shower.” You say, managing to speak quickly without stutter. “Didn’t have a chance to after gym class and the air conditioning must have been broken or something in the homeroom.”
“That’s fine.” Leaning in, his nose presses to your jugular taking a deep inhale. “I like it, smell like you just got fucked.” Reaching for your lower back, Jeno moves you forward toward the passenger seat, the facade of a nice boyfriend(or whatever he is) vanishes with the turn of his head.
You learned quickly to let him do what he wants after receiving nothing but hard stares to shut you down. Jeno wants things done his way, even buckling your seatbelt is his responsibility.
The engine vibrates as you wait for him to settle into his seat and back out of the parking lot, just barely missing Haechan’s exit by a few seconds.
It’s silent on the way to his home, tense and thick. Maybe it’s guilt, your guilt, guilt you can’t understand carrying to begin with. Why should you feel guilty? Does Jeno deserve that? Is it really because Haechan didn’t feel like Jeno? Because he didn’t make you relinquish control, didn’t make you feel special? Is that what Jeno does? He makes you feel like nothing else matters more than you?
Biting your nails raw, down to the rough neglected skin beneath until the tips of your fingers ache, you’re unsure if it's the silence that bothers you more or your spiraling thoughts screaming louder and louder. “Was everything okay? With your dad?”
Jeno comes to a stop at a red light, tapping the steering wheel, lips parting open into a half smile. “I didn’t think you’d ask me.”
He doesn’t turn to look at you, only glances from the corner of his eye, sleek and cold. “You never ask me anything.”
A dry breathy laugh passes through his nose, stepping on the gas again as you near the neighborhood you’ve become more familiar with than your own by now. “Did you miss me that much today, teddy?” He’s grinning, stoically, and if you blink too long you’d miss the way his head shakes in disbelief.
Shutting off his car, he turns and reaches for your chin to lift your face up. It’s your best effort to appear as nothing, not display an ounce of guilt or shame, but not smile or stare back too long— because that would be out of character. “Is there something you need to tell me?”
The gleam passing his gaze is damn near unnerving, adjusting your face side to side as if he’s inspecting for damage. “Did something happen while I was gone?”
The most you give him is a barely noticeable shake of your head, gaze lowered to your lap, nothing too out of the ordinary..
Jeno leans over the space between you, turning your gaze back to him, digits spread out along your jaw for more control. “I think..”
He presses closer, forehead connecting to yours leaving just an inch of space between your nose and lips. Lips that left behind their moisture and shine on another man, a mouth that you fear may still carry remnants of his taste. “My teddy..”
Jeno’s lips graze yours enough to hitch your breath, shutting the seam of your mouth shut. That doesn’t stop him from cupping your face, overtaking power and pushing your lips forward with the pressure of his palms squeezing you in. “You are starting to like me more than you realize.”
He kisses the swell of your pout, biting his lower lip for a second to admire how swollen and worn your mouth looks; as if someone has sucked on the fleshy fat roughly. Someone reckless who could give a shit about you. “Or at least more than you’re ready to admit.”
Jeno lets go, leaving you gasping for breath as he sits back and studies your reaction. “Kiss me.”
It’s not a question, it’s not even a demand, he’s too relaxed. It’s expectant, because you’ll listen to him, if you know what’s good for you; and you do.
There’s no way to crawl between the front seats without it being awkward, having to reach for Jeno’s thigh to keep yourself sturdy. He huffs to mask a laugh, turning away when you direct your pout toward his lips. “Kiss me the way you really want to.”
He knows you don’t want to, but he doesn’t know why; and maybe that’s where your guilt stems from because you can still taste Haechan between your teeth; and the pink flush spread across his mouth stirs a need up from your stomach to your chest.
“Go on.” Jeno’s head rests against his seat, eyebrows raised waiting. You manage to slip onto his lap after banging your knee into the cup holder, gripping onto his shoulders to align your weight onto his crotch. The same way he likes to hold you in the evening while playing games with your head laid on his chest.
Jeno kisses you everyday, he kisses you. You could trace the shape of his lips with your eyes shut at this point, subconsciously you even notice whenever he reapplies chapstick from the light menthol scent and taste alone.
There’s something you’ve noticed over time as you lean in and breathe out nervously across his impatient mouth. Jeno never looks away first, he watches for your response to everything, silently analyzing the tiniest smallest movements. He has to, because you give him nothing, and he does it well. Even now with your eyes falling shut too nervous to look at him up close, he stays tuned in to your bottom lip trembling, the little twitch between your eyebrows and how much your hands shake while gliding up to his neck.
This shouldn’t feel like your first kiss with him, not after everything, but it does. You are the one in control for once and you’re the one applying pressure. Taking time to feel out just how soft his lips actually are when they aren’t roughly prying your mouth open to shove his tongue inside. The tightness beneath your palms even seems to relax the more you move between top and bottom lip, gently sucking and pulling them between yours.
Jeno doesn’t move, he even lets his hands rest by his thighs despite itching to gather your waist and grind you down against him. He wants to see how far you’ll go on your own, especially after today; because maybe you needed this time apart, albeit only a few hours, but maybe you needed to be alone to understand just how much you need him.
“I’m not a good kisser..” you finish with a light as a feather peck at the corner of his mouth, dropping your face embarrassed. “It’s better when you do it.”
Oh? He perks up at that, giving into his desire with hands encompassing your waist. “You are good, you just..”
He rubs up and down your sides, letting out a long sigh while looking you over. “You don’t like me, right?” Jeno bites down a smile, nodding to himself. He knows you’d pour your soul into a kiss with Haechan, you probably dream of some ridiculously romantic rekindling of your relationship with some ridiculous scenario: fixing all the damage with one kiss..
“That’s not it—“
“You don’t.” He nods again, an accepting nod.
And it’s okay, because you still have hope, somehow you still have so much hope that Haechan will save you from this. That your stupid childhood first love still carries you deep within his heart the way you always have, because you have so much good left inside of you in spite of every obstacle put in your way. Jeno likes that, that’s why he befriended Haechan in the first place, because good people are rare to come by.
But Haechan is not a good person anymore, and soon enough your spark will die out too.
“It’s not that Jeno..”
“Let’s get inside, I ordered takeout, should be here soon.” He says with an ordering pat pat pat against your hip, unlocking his door for you to exit first. “You hardly touched your lunch today.”
“Is it okay if I take a shower first?” Having to ask makes your stomach churn, mumbling behind the tips of your fingers finding their way back between your teeth to bite down on your nails.
“Stop doing that.” Jeno gently pries your wrists away, opening the door to his bedroom. “You never shower until after we fuck.”
“Like I said.. the air conditioning..”
Jeno eyes you skeptically, huffing and grinning. “You think I’ll care if you smell a little?” He’s back on you, encasing your waist as he bends in to drag his nose along your throat. “I think you smell sweet.”
“It’s not that.. I just feel gross.”
And you do, you feel extremely gross. More disgusted with yourself than you’ve ever felt after allowing Jeno to defile you. The more you try to push away what you’ve just done, the more unsettled you feel by all of it.
“You wanna change?” He places a light kiss upon your cheekbone, moving away to sit at his computer chair. “Grab whatever you want to wear. Don’t take too long though or your food will get cold.”
Part of you wants to stand there and argue, claim that you aren’t hungry despite the rumble your stomach gives at the mention of warm food; but a hot shower to wash away the remnants of Haechan’s spit and other fluids depletes any will to bother Jeno any longer.
“Are you sure?” You ask, skimming over the drawers lined up against the other side of his bedroom.
Jeno hums, already logging on to play league and waving you off. “Yeah, wear whatever.”
Showering in his bathroom had become very standard, like he said you typically prefer to after the act, but today’s different of course. His bathroom is much nicer than the community one shared by multiple people at your shitty studio complex. The studio you rarely spend much time living in anymore ever since Jeno forced his way into your life.
There is something inside of you that sighs out of relief under the shower stream, stretching your arms out and up high freely, enjoying the quality of bath soaps and shower gels he keeps stocked. Jeno always smells nice, fresh and clean, not smokey and suffocating the way Haechan did..
The memory of his luxurious musky scent has your palms traveling lower, reaching for the shower head to thoroughly clean away any possible trace of him left behind between your legs.
Jeno would go ballistic if he knew.. you aren’t even sure how he’d react, and you don’t want to find out.
“Food’s here?” You ask quietly, still drying your hair by the bathroom door connected to Jeno’s bedroom. He takes a minute to answer, engulfed in the game playing across his computer screen.
“Just got here.” Jeno says, hitting pause to look at you. His lips loosen, jaw opening as he gazes from your feet taking short steps forward to your bare legs and his pink hoodie hanging past your hips. “Wow.”
“What?” You pause, looking yourself over nervously. He said to pick whatever you want to wear, you even double checked with him. He can’t be mad right? Maybe this is his favorite hoodie and now—
Jeno’s eyes soften, scanning up and down your figure as he reaches out and rolls his seat forward to grab your hips. “You look really cute.”
“Oh..” heat drives up your neck, lowering your eyes to look away from the pleased smile that tugs at his lips.
“I should make you wear my clothes more often.” Jeno squeezes up your sides, drawing the fabric to follow his touch and lift over your hips. “Come here.”
Leaning back, he motions for you to climb onto his lap, a bag of steaming hot food sits at the corner of his desk waiting. “But the food..”
He lifts one groomed eyebrow, responding with a silent command to do as he says before he makes you regret it.
“We’ll eat first.” Jeno wraps an arm around your stomach, tugging your back to press against his chest as he reaches for the bag. “Put on whatever you want to watch.”
It’s times like this in his bedroom, as you ease into his hold and pout when he swirls noodles around a fork to feed you with that you can’t help but to feel something.
Something you can’t bring yourself to accept, because that would make him right about everything..
That’s what makes it harder to eat, harder to sit still and let yourself grow too comfortable, harder to laugh when something funny happens on the TV show you chose.
Jeno can’t win, even if he continues to prod your mouth with another spoonful of rice, and softly smiles before licking away a piece from the corner of your mouth. “You’re so cute.” He mumbles, pushing the boxes of food aside. “Turn around.”
“Do we have to?”
Large palms run up your thighs, squeezing as they find a way between your legs to the fleshy meat lined along the outsides of your groin. “You’re cute, but don’t test me.”
･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･･ ⋆ ･
Jeno’s been extra clingy ever since that day he had to leave earlier. You can’t say you hate it.. and maybe it gives you an excuse for why Haechan’s been completely avoidant, not looking at you once. You wanted to wave at him, say hi as you passed each other, but with thick biceps belted around you at all times you knew better.
He could just be ignoring you because of Jeno.
He could just be ignoring you because he doesn’t give a shit.
“Really do hate that I have to spend the next hour and a half without you.” Jeno sighs sadly, kissing your cheek. “Fucking hate Philosophy too.”
“It’s just one class.”
“One class that’s stealing precious time I could be spending with my girlfriend.”
There he goes again, that bullshit title he keeps using. It’s almost worse than his constant love bombs. “Second bells about to ring.” You mumble, shoving his arms off.
“Yeah yeah, I know you can’t wait to get away from me.” He pouts, leaning against the door frame, glancing behind you at the area he knows you often set up at. Eyes squinting as he observes one of your classmates. “I’ll be here when you’re done. Be good.”
Or else.
The silent haunting echo follows you to your seat, apprehensively setting your bag down with a subtle peak toward the door to make sure he’s gone.
“How’s the research going?”
A deep voice startles you, jumping up and dropping your belongings. “Crap.”
“Ah, that’s my bad.” He crouches down before you’re even squatted halfway, long hands reaching to gather your brushes and pencils. “Was just asking how the papers going. I really think we should get together to make sure we’re both on the same page. I don’t want you to hate me if we get a bad grade..”
“Get together?!” You splurt out abruptly, coughing on choked spit. “Outside of class??”
The thing is, Jeno didn’t really know about Jisung Park. Why would he? He’s not in this class.
He didn’t know that part of the reason you loved this class so much wasn’t because he’s not in it. No(although that helps). It’s because from the first day you noticed Jisung sitting quietly free-hand drawing beautifully, you wanted to compliment his sketches, get to know him better; ask if he’s always had an interest in art..
But you didn’t, instead you shyly hid your face and looked away whenever he’d glance around. Sure, maybe you happened to notice how attractive he is too, but that didn’t matter to you. It’s not like you had a crush on him or anything..
And it’s not like your stomach exploded with butterflies as everyone paired off for your final project for the semester, leaving you nervously taking steps back and forth looking for anyone available.
Jisung approached you first, asking quietly and shyly. ‘Do you have a partner yet?’
That’s how you ended up here, your norm for the last week being to sit by him during class so you could exchange ideas and work on your final project together.
And that crush you didn’t have ended up becoming very very real. Jisung.. he’s nice, really nice. Genuine and thoughtful, he always asks how your days been, if you have any plans later on, tries to get to know you with curious and non-invasive questions.
It’s easy to bond over your love and appreciation for art, and he thought it was cool that you once dreamed of illustrating mangas(until capitalism and reality set in). He sparked light around the dark corners you hide in. Your secret, something only for you, something Jeno couldn’t ruin or touch..
“Yeah. You can come over to my place tonight? My parents both work late hours so we shouldn’t have any interruptions.”
An invite to his place, where you’d be alone. Only the two of you, no Jeno..
“Your place? Tonight?”
“Yeah? If that’s okay with you?” Jisung smiles apprehensively, reaching to scratch at his sideburn. “I’d like to keep my perfect GPA intact.. it’s okay if you can’t, I don’t mind completing the bulk of it myself.”
“No no, that’s not fair.” You wave him off, biting at your nail. “I’ll uhm, yeah—no, yeah, I’m free later. Write down your address.” Sliding him your notebook, you reach for your phone to text Jeno under your desk. This is for school, for your perfect GPA.. he needs to be understanding.
Jisung perks up and scribbles down where you can meet him after school, clapping his hands together. “I’ll set some snacks out for us, I’m sure we’ll be working hours into the evening.”
Hours into the evening.. Jeno won’t like that.
Jeno doesn’t like that. Immediately shooting down your messages with a flat out ‘no’.
It came down to begging, explaining to him on the way to your next class how important this extracurricular course is for your future internship applications, even your counselor said that. It’s not a good look if you only excel in your non-creative courses, unless you plan to apply for a job that requires zero social interaction and teamwork.
‘Good luck with that.’ Your counselor mumbled, signing you up for this art class in the first place.
“The whole purpose of being here is for you to finish partnered work here.” Jeno snaps, shaking his head. “Who’s your partner anyway?! Why haven’t you mentioned this until now??”
“We only barely received the project yesterday!” You lie, looking at anything else but him. “My partner.. Hani!” Thinking fast you blurt out the first classmate you can think of, praying to yourself that Jeno doesn’t know her.
“Hani?” He repeats, seeming pleased to hear a girl's name. “And what time are you supposed to meet?”
It took further convincing, a little bit of bribery, maybe you skipped Yoga to suck him off in the bathroom. But it worked, Jeno seemed at ease after hearing that your classmate Hani was counting on this project to keep her grades up. Your scholarship requirements too, sure.
“Call me when you’re done.” He says, parking on another street nearby you’d given him directions to, just in case..
“Of course.. it might be late.”
Jeno grumbles, leaning over to kiss you until your lips feel bruised and tender. He kisses like it could be the last time he’ll ever see you, but that never makes you react. He always kisses like that..
“Love you.”
You nod, stepping out and waving him off, letting him know that Hani takes the bus home and you’ll have to wait a few minutes longer. He seems hesitant to drive off at first, only finally taking off out of the street when his dad calls him about something.
Phew.
Panic and fear get shoved down as you make your way to Jisung’s actual address. You shouldn’t be this nervous, it’s just a project..
With your crush, alone, together, only the two of you. That’s why you stand at the front door to his house for a while, shifting from foot to foot, playing with the strings of your backpack.
Jeno would be really mad if he found out about this. What would be worse? Lying? Or Jisung? There’s no way he would have allowed for you to come here alone, without him. Lying was your only option..
Taking a deep breath, you reach for the doorbell, gasping as it flies open immediately.
“You made it!” He smiles, toeing off his shoes, still wearing the same outfit from earlier. “I just got in myself, had to jump the backyard fence because I must have dropped my key, sorry. Were you waiting long?”
“Oh no.. it’s fine.” You mumble, passing through and removing your shoes quietly. He seems even taller now, walking next to him in nothing but socks.
“You must be hungry, let’s raid the pantry real fast before heading to my room.”
His room, you’ll be alone in his room..
Jisung’s a couple of years younger than you, and it’s evident when you step inside of his bedroom and take in the different toys he has scattered about; moving around to throw his jacket over a pile of stuffed animals displayed in one corner.
“Shall we?” He says, motioning to sit at his desk, dropping the bags of chips and cookies he found. “I’ve already wrapped up the bulk of writing, and cited everything, we just have to go over key points for our presentation.”
“Oh, that’s great. Thank you for doing all of that.” You smile, sensing heat rise up to your cheeks. His parents must not use the air conditioning much..
He snorts breathily, shrugging. “You seem really busy, with your boyfriend and all..”
“He’s not my boyf—he’s,” trailing off, you shake your head and grab your notes. “Let’s focus on this so we can try to finish early.”
“You’re always with him..” Jisung sits up awkwardly, playing with his knuckles. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have assumed anything. You’re right, let’s uhm, get to work.
To your surprise Jeno doesn’t blow up your phone with texts, and you think about his dad again. He never did tell you what happened that day.. he should share personal things with you if he expects you to start trusting him. To build some solid type of relationship with him. The skin around your nails practically screams and begs to be left alone as you bring your fingers up to your mouth and begin to bite at anything you can find. He should have texted you by now..
“Something wrong?” Jisung asks, ruffling his fluffy black hair. “You seem a little distracted.”
“Oh, it’s nothing.”
“We’ve been working for two hours,” he nods, setting down his pen and organizing what you’ve finished so far. “Let’s take a break, I can really use one too.”
A break? Your eyes widen, following his figure as he stands and stretches his arms up, tight shirt lifting up his stomach halfway giving your curious gaze a real show. “Come on, our brains are probably in overdrive after a day of classes and now this, you should lay down for a bit.”
Lay down?!
Motioning to his bed, he smiles and directs you to follow with his chin. “Come on, I won’t bite.” He says sitting down, patting the empty space next to him.
Oh, but you might.
Stealing one more glance at your phone, you set it screen down on his desk, getting up and pretending to yawn. “You’re right.. sometimes I don’t know when to stop.”
Jisung laughs lightly, falling back and letting out a long sigh. “Me too, my grades mean a lot to me. I’m trying to get an internship this summer at Lee Corp.”
“No way!” You say excitedly, staying sat up on his bed and leaning on your palm to look at him. “I am too! Which program are you going for?”
“Engineer of course, they pay the best out of everyone in the country. Did you read that Forbes article? Haechan’s father must be a genius.”
You hum, brushing off the comment about Haechan, he’s the last person you want to talk about right now. “I was thinking about Global Affairs.. I really think a lot of their apps could expand and excel in foreign countries.”
Jisung laughs, smiling up his eyes, clasping his hands together on his stomach. “Look at us trying to relax.. we still end up talking about work.”
“I guess you’re right.. I’m not the best at, uh, relaxing?”
Jisung sits up on his elbows, eyebrows lifted as he looks at you. “I could.. make some suggestions.”
“Uhhh..”
He lets out an awkward laugh, turning onto his side and scratching his neck. “Sorry, that was lame. It’s just uhm, since you said you don’t have a boyfriend, I’ve been thinking..”
Shit.
He sucks in his thick pink bottom lip, biting down nervously. “I’ve always thought you were real cute, but you’re always with that guy so I kept my distance.”
“You, y-you did?” You stammer, clearing your throat and sitting up straight. “Ah, that’s—that’s nice. I mean, thank you.”
Jisung sits up, long bangs falling into his eyes as he tilts and stares at you in a way you’ve never had anyone look at you. There’s softness in his gaze, exposing his teeth as he leans closer to your face, huffing under his breath. “I’m not good at this, but I’d really like to kiss you right now..”
Kiss?!?
“Is that okay?” There’s a tremble in his voice, dipping in closer until your noses are less than an inch apart.
No. It’s not okay. You shouldn’t even be here right now. But isn’t it okay? Aren’t you in this relationship with Jeno against your will? Hasn’t Haechan been ignoring you for days? This could be your only chance at something normal.. someone who actually likes you for you.
Jisung’s heart looks damn near ready to break judging by the way his pout begins to droop, it’s instinct to rectify what you’ve caused that has you pressing forward; the first to brush your lips together. He lets a staggered breath free, moving to cup around your throat to deepen the kiss. It’s soft, nice, slow enough that you can process and absorb every small caress of your lips against his.
“I really..” he sighs out a laugh, tapping the end of his nose to yours. “Could help you relax..”
You deserve this, right? Why even question it? You like him, he likes you, and a part of you fully expected(or wanted) this to happen.
“Okay..”
Maybe the soft innocence radiating off of him is moreso the difference in your age. But there’s something about the way Jisung gently lays you down and places a pillow beneath your head. He kisses you again, and again, and again, slowly working your mouth open to allow his tongue to roam freely and explore.
It’s nice and calm without overstimulating your arousal, not until his fingers trace along your throat, pulling back with a smile that asks for permission.
Assuming he expects more you squirm anxiously, helping him slide his hand lower down your stomach to the button of your jeans. “Can I?” He asks, again, always checking in to confirm you’re okay with his next move.
You help him by shimmying out of your jeans, allowing for his hand to dip inside of your underwear as you continue to kiss and arch up at the first graze of long thick fingers swiping between your folds. His hands are warm, movements fluid and practiced, collecting the wad of wetness at your entrance to rub over your clit and begin stimulating your nerves. You can’t help to think- this is how it’s supposed to be, getting to know your body first with soft strokes, feeling the different parts of you to learn what gets you off.
“Wanna eat you out.” Jisung whispers against your mouth, trailing two digits lower to press against your hole. “Wanna taste.”
You nod eagerly, much too eagerly, kicking your jeans off to the floor, lifting your hips to invite him inside. He rubs circles around your entrance teasingly, tapping a few times before pulling out to sit up on his knees and tug off his shirt.
Jisung may be younger, but his body’s built nothing short of a man. Muscles line his stomach, arms firm and flexed as he pushes off his pants and climbs back onto the bed in nothing but a snuggly fit pair of boxer briefs. He pushes your top up under your breasts, hands large enough to hide the base of your stomach when they lay flat on top of you and begin to slide down to your underwear. “Like your panties..” he whispers, leaning down to trace the rose on your mound, making your hips twitch.
He likes them enough to not even take them off, laying down on his stomach to drag his nose down the damp seat of your panties. God Jeno would never— stop thinking about him. Stop saying what he’d do, he doesn’t exist. Jisung’s the one between your thighs, collecting your underwear to one side and taking a deep breath. “You’re just as pretty down here..”
His deep voice makes your toes curl against the bed, bending your knees up to grant him more access. “Can I touch?”
Nodding eagerly, you lift your hips again for him to push your folds apart, groaning as his thumb presses to your clit. “Like it when I do that?”
“Yes.. use your mouth..”
Jisung groans, half whimpering, tucking his face lower between your thighs. Thick lips suction around your clit, sucking the nub between and flicking his tongue out. His slow polite manners dissipate the more he ruts against his bed and sucks around your bundle of nerves. “Taste as good as you look.” He murmurs, long tongue dragging down to your tight hole to lap inside.
“You’re getting real wet.” He breathes out, cursing. Ducking back down to lick a fat stripe from your contracting wet hole to your clit. His tongue laves between your folds, spilling saliva and wetness across each, dipping his tongue in and out. He suckles on your clit, big hands splayed on your inner thighs pushing them further open to jam his tongue deeper inside.
You need more, fingers twitch midair before reaching into his hair and scratching at his scalp. “More!”
Jisung growls, shoving his face in until his nose digs against your bundle of nerves, panting against your opening with his tongue flicking against your inner walls.
He pulls back to glide two fingers inside, taking the chance to tug firmly on his scalp and shake your head. “Do y-you have a condom?”
Surprise paints his delicate face, appearing obscene with your arousal hanging from his chin. He nods quickly and jumps from the bed to slam open his bedside drawer and pull out a wad of protection. “I have a ton!” He scurries back onto the bed and grabs onto your knees, wide-eyed and dazed. “I mean.. do you want to?”
“Mhm..” you nod, sitting up to kiss up his neck, ripping the packet open and shoving your hand inside of his briefs.
You wish he would shut up just a little, favoring the breathy whines and whimpered moans he lets out when you finally wrap around his length and slide down the condom.
Jisung kisses you again, sucking on your bottom lip until it swells, licking across the fronts of your teeth. He lowers you back down comfortably and shoves his boxers down, length jumping up and slapping against his stomach.
“Y-you’re not like..” Jisung stutters, laughing to himself as he positions to line his cock up to your cunt. “Like a virgin?”
This is why you wish he’d shut up, gritting your teeth before forcing a smile. “Of course not.”
“Ah, figured.. wanted to be sure.” He takes a deep breath and cups your hips, inching forward slowly. “If it hurts—“
“I’ll let you know.”
It stings a little once he’s sheathed in half deep, he’s big, most of all thick. But the pain feels familiar, something you crave now..
“Come on.” You encourage, lifting your hips to fuck the rest of his length inside. “Fuck me, come on.”
Jisung gasps, long and choked, falling forward and catching himself by grabbing onto your shoulders. He watches your hips cant up for a minute, literally riding his cock, pussy slapping against his pelvis.
“Fuck, oh my God..” he croons, sounding out of breath already.
“Fuck me!” You beg, clinging onto his waist to scratch your nails down his flat tight stomach. “Please please, fuck me.”
Jisung snaps, nodding furiously as he crawls forward on his knees and hooks your thighs over his hips, throwing his hips into action to ram inside of you faster.
“Yeah yeah, just like that!” You whine, fucking him back to make him match your speed.
His hands reach for your waist, slamming in harder until you’re gurgling and writhing in his hold. Cock sliding in and out so wet and deep, the pain completely gone, only receiving pleasure with each meet of your hips.
It’s still missing something, something that has you reaching between your bodies to pinch your clit between two fingers. Nodding and panting for him to keep going. “S-so close.”
His palms land flat around the sides of your head, gripping the bedding in tight fists, using the leverage to drop his hips down faster. Fuck his cock in deeper and harder.
The sight of him above you, pale, muscular, black hair in his face, it’s enough to drift your mind away somewhere else. Shutting your eyes as heat burns up from your gut to your chest. Clit gone numb from your ferocious rubs, you twitch and cry out. The squeeze slowing him down as you clamp around him and begin to cum.
“Yesyesyes!” Through your blurry vision you can see him crumbling on top of you. Forcing his cock in past your tight heat, if not for how pitchy his moans sing out you’d swear..
“Ah, I’m c-cumming! I’m cu-cumming!” Jisung’s face tightens up, kissing the backs of his teeth. Hips locked in place, cock twitching as he fills up the condom with warmth. He pants and hangs his head between his shoulders, hips circling on more time before pulling out slowly. An audible pop resounds once he’s emptied you, flopping onto the bed by your side, stripping the condom off to give his dick a break for a moment, he throws it aside and lays back catching his breath. “No better way to relax than that..”
You wish you could say the same, already seeking your nails to chew on. That couldn’t have been too long, right? You need to check your phone, Jeno could have surely hunted you down by now if you’d even taken longer than a minute to respond. Maybe he’s really trying to respect your boundaries for once. Either way, you need to get out of here.
Tip toeing on to his bedroom floor, you step back into your clothes, quietly gathering your things to not wake him. Waking him could lead to conversation and more time you’d have to spend here..
There’s something you can only describe as guilt infiltrating your mostly pleased thoughts. Sneaking out of Jisung’s house was easy, scribbling off a note quickly that you’d see him at school later.
Jeno could be waiting outside where he dropped you off, you told him not to.. but he worries about you a lot. He’s always worried about you, it’s nice actually. It’s nice how much he cares about you, hell.. he checks in on you more than even your own parents.
God. What the hell are you thinking? Who cares if he worries about you. He’s a fucking psycho is what he is. Why are you even thinking about him right now? After everything that’s happened.
Jisung’s really nice, he’s really smart, seems to have a good head on his shoulders. Yet Jeno.. Jeno feels like an infection you can’t find the cure for at this point. He’s everywhere, every time you shut your eyes, whenever you wake up, he’s the first person you think about, the first person you want to see.
This is ridiculous, you’re just tired, that’s it. Too tired to wait for Jeno to come get you. It’ll be best to take the bus back to your studio today, he’d probably make you go home with him and keep you up way too late. His bed may be nicer than yours, sure. His bathroom an actual personal bathroom, and as your ‘boyfriend’ he always makes sure you’re well fed. The grumble your stomach lets out doesn’t go unnoticed, ignoring it as you pick up your phone to shoot off a text message.
‘Really tired. Heading home. See you in the morning.’
Reading over your text before sending it, you chew at dry skin around your nails, dropping your hand quickly as if Jeno’s slapped it down again. He always does, reprimands you whenever you bite your nails or rip the dead skin off with your teeth. He does it because he cares about you, right?
Fuck him. Seriously fuck that asshole.
Pressing your thumb down earnestly, you send the text and shut your phone off, bringing your thumb up to your lip to rip off an annoying piece of skin.
“Shit.” You hiss, shaking off your hand. More came off, opening a wound and stinging around the cuticle. Shining with red blood that rushed to fill up the divots around your nail bed.
Jeno would probably glare at you, raise your thumb to his mouth to suck on. He’d make it hurt less..
Brushing those thoughts aside, you pocket your fingers and tighten your jacket, making your way toward the nearest bus stop. He won’t like that you turned off your phone, he won’t like that you took public transport home instead of waiting for him, he doesn’t like anything really.
Except you..
It’s been a long while since you’ve taken the bus home, and it’s late, mostly empty. It’s hard to not notice a couple curled up in one of the two seaters, laughing at something on a phone together. Sometimes you watch things with Jeno, and you try to keep your amusement at bay, you try to emit nothing other than misery, but it’s become something you secretly look forward to these days..
Why do you keep thinking about him? What if Jisung’s texting you? Glancing at your blacked out phone screen, you wonder if he is, he could be.. Jisung seems to like you. He seems normal..
Normal could be nice.
Normal.
Why can’t you and Jeno be normal? What if you are?
Coming home alone without him by your side seems odd now. This isn’t normal anymore, this isn’t your normal anymore.
Jeno is your normal.
As you crawl into bed and take a deep sigh, you can’t help but to wrap yourself up tighter, curl up into a more fettle helpless position, and you can’t stop the tears that erupt from your eyes until they blur your vision and make your head pound.
He should be here, he should be here to keep you safe and warm, but he’s not, and nothing feels normal anymore.
･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･･ ⋆ ･
One thing about Jeno you’ve noticed is that he is always on time. He’s extremely punctual, and if he’s not, he always, without fail, will make sure to alert you with a call or text.
Today’s different.
Because even when you turned your phone on this morning and rubbed sleepy dry tears from your swollen eyes, no notifications from Jeno appeared.
Jisung had sent a few messages, thanking you for a great time and hoping you made it home safe. The last text you sent Jeno hadn’t even been opened, and his read receipts have always been turned on for as long as you’ve known him..
He’ll show up outside of your complex at 8 o’clock on the dot as usual. Maybe he forgot to charge his phone(that’s unlike him).
But 8am comes around, and his car doesn’t round the corner, and minutes tick by, and he doesn’t show up. Each glance at your phone screen feels more like a plea for something, silently begging for a text or call to appear. Something to indicate he’s on his way, maybe traffic is heavier than usual today..
‘Hey. I’m waiting outside.’
You never add emojis. Keep messages as short and simple as you can. It would come across as too nice, too weird given the dynamic of your relationship, but that doesn’t stop your thumb from hovering over a smiley face before hitting send. Shaking it off, you watch the minutes go by, nursing the cut up cuticle you ripped off last night between your lips. If you don’t leave soon to catch the bus you’ll be late.
One more minute, you’ll wait one more minute before running to catch the next bus.
‘Is everything okay?’
What if he got into an accident? Did Jeno even make it home yesterday after dropping you off? What if he’s in a hospital bed somewhere, disfigured, all alone without anyone to keep him company? What are you even thinking right now?!
It doesn’t calm your nerves a bit that he hasn’t opened a single text message you’ve sent. Doesn’t help as you cram onto a crowded bus and worry your thumb down to raw skin, biting every little piece you can get your teeth on. Doesn’t help that you can’t stop glancing at your phone, envisioning each terrible outcome.
He’ll be at school, he’ll be waiting at your lockers and walk you to class, sit by your side as usual. Throw out an assload of compliments that piss you off, stare at you and play with your hair. It’s fine, everything is fine, he’s a good driver. How could he possibly get into an accident? Jeno? Never.
But he’s not waiting at your lockers, even as you stand around longer peering up and down the hallway for him to show up. You can’t ask anyone if they’ve seen him either, it’s not like you know anyone to ask.
He’s not in your first class, doesn’t show up for second period, or third, and your phone never once dings with a new notification.
Even as your names are called out to grab attendance and you silently pray he’ll appear at the classroom door out of breath, finding your surprised gaze on him. A huge smile will stretch his cheeks into a bundle of wrinkles, eyes disappearing when he meets yours.
But that doesn’t happen, and in a panic you send off a slew of text messages, biting your nails down to nothing but raw skin.
‘Is everything okay Jeno? Did your phone die?’
‘I’m at school. Should I meet you for lunch somewhere?’
‘Are you sick?’
There’s no way to explain the fear clawing at your chest, the rumble in your stomach, the ache that pangs through your heart. It’s not because you care about him, he doesn’t deserve that from you, not even out of human decency. But maybe, just maybe, you are worried, because Jeno’s face has become such a normal part of your daily life. His light touches, a gaze that never loses sight of you, a powerful aura that wraps you up behind an invisible shield that makes you feel safe. As insane as it feels to even contemplate, you can’t help it.
He’s a disease, streaming through your blood, destroying all of your white blood cells and leaving you with no option other than to rely on him to survive. Some may even consider that love, if you think about it.
He sought you out in the first place, didn’t he? Took notice of something special in you that clearly no one else does. Like right now as you walk to your locker, head hung low, no one cares. No one’s looking at you, no one notices you or sees you. They always see you when Jeno’s by your side. He’s the bright light that illuminates around you, and you? You’re nothing.
Jeno made you something though. He made you his.
How hasn’t he replied yet?!? What the hell is his problem! You’d scream if you could, that’s how desperate you feel, not even a god damn text? Nothing?!
You could always leave.. take the bus to his house. It’s possible he is severely injured after all, his parents might not even have a clue. It’s the least you can do, at least inform them that their son’s on his deathbed because of a horrific accident. Because that’s the only logical explanation you can fathom for why he hasn’t attempted to contact you even once since yesterday. It’s your fault too, if he really got into a bad car wreck after dropping you off. Yeah, you should definitely take the rest of the day off, it’s the right thing to do..
Adding speed to your steps, you rush toward your locker to grab your bag, prying it open quickly and nearly missing the folded note that slips out. A note.. with very familiar handwriting. A note in your locker after all this time, exactly like the ones you used to receive..
‘It’s been awhile hasn’t it angel? I haven’t felt the need to speak to you like this in such a long time now it seems. We have grown so close now, there are times I catch your gaze wandering away from me. I realize in those moments how much I’ve truly given up for you.
I lost my friends, carry guilt on my back of getting caught; that Haechan will find the courage to snitch me out.. The chance of my father disowning me for ruining his one chance to free himself from this impoverishment. In those moments I know you look away silently praying for someone to save you, when really, it’s been me all along.
I’ve only ever wanted to save you because you deserve better than this. I’m waiting for you, I know you’re smart enough to find your way.
-Your Teddy Bear’
This has to be a sick joke, you fully believe this has to be a sick joke; but your lip twitches, your tongue presses to the fronts of your teeth, and you can feel moisture itching at the backs of your eyes.
Jeno hadn’t picked you up today, he never sent a message to explain why. The last he’d spoken with you was on the car ride over to Jisung’s, and even then you never said much. He hadn’t said much either if you really think back, stay silent for most of the drive.
The last place you want to revisit is room 0423 after that day.
‘I’m waiting for you.’
Stoic and zombie-like your feet drag through the halls finding your way to the abandoned sector of the school. Because he’s waiting, and like a fool you’ve been waiting for him too.
You couldn’t process a thought, mindless as you found your way in front of the door that read 0423 before you. At this point there isn’t much else Jeno can pull to surprise you. Probably planning a setup of some sort to commemorate the day he met you, since it matters to him so much.
“Don’t act shy and stand out there forever, I’m waiting.” His voice echoes through the small opening, leaving the door cracked enough for you to know to come inside.
Everything appears to be the same as you remember, other than the giant teddy bear Jeno gifted you sitting at the teacher's table, his back facing you from where he sits on one of the student desks at the front row.
“Took you long enough to show up. I expected you’d be sick to your stomach without me, buried with your face in a porcelain bowl. Although, I must say, your messages have been quite entertaining.” Jeno begins to speak, his back muscles flexing as he laughs sarcastically. His neck bends forward, nodding to himself. “I won’t lie, I didn’t expect even that much from you. I dare say, you seemed frantic, worried even..”
“Why did you want me to come back here?” You ask softly, inching closer to where he sits. Jeno listens to the sound of your sneakers drag against the linoleum floor, he listens to your calm breath, he listens to your nails scratch by on each desk you pass, and he smiles stiffly.
“You really think I’m stupid, don’t you?” Jeno’s teeth grit, fisting a remote control in his grip. He stands up abruptly in a way that startles you. Instinctively lifting your fists to cover your face as you gasp. Rolling his eyes, he grips onto a curtain near the corner covering up an old school television, and he turns to face you.
If looks could kill, you know that you’d be laid out on the floor bleeding out right now. He bores into you with a laser sharp gaze, slicing through your chest with a level of intensity he’s kept calm for weeks.
“Answer me.”
Jeno’s throat shakes, his knuckles saturated in white, cuts of blood red and hues of pink from punching who knows what or who.. and for a quick second you think he may cry as he rapidly blinks away moisture that’s teetering at the brims of his eyes.
“No Jeno.. I don’t think you’re stupid.”
“I’ve never liked when you lie.” He nods, sniffling loud and hitting play. “You always look dead behind the eyes when you lie, did you know that? Because even you know that deep down inside no matter how much you hate me, lying isn’t your style.”
The black tv screen illuminates, a dim video of sheets that make your eyes squint, familiar..
“Is that—“ the camera zooms out before you can even speculate, cutting off your breath. “N-no—there’s no wa—“
Jeno sneers, dragging the back of his hand across his eyes and nose. He turns the volume up until your pleasured moans resound throughout the classroom, cascading down the walls and your frame like lashings. The camera doesn’t bother to focus on Jisung once, zoomed in on your face, your mouth hung open, the lines formed between your eyebrows.
“H-how..” bile rises up your throat, stepping back until your butt meets the ledge of a desk. There’s no way Jeno could have known, how HOW could he—
“I know what you’re thinking.” He says smoothly, the tears dried up and gone. Spinning on one foot to face you and waved the remote in your direction. “You thought he really liked you, right?”
“N-no it’s n-not that—“
“What did I tell you about lying?” He grite, placating you with a cold hard stare. “I could have saved us the trouble of dealing with any of this. I knew from the second I saw you talking to him in class, I knew from that moment. You looked so happy.” He scoffs, head shaking, pausing the video. “You looked so fucking happy and hopeful, the same way you looked when I saw you talking to Haechan in the library before.”
He takes a deep dramatic breath, tossing the remote aside, arms free to cross over his chest and lock you in place with one of the most fear-inducing looks you’ve ever seen. “You never look at me like that. You never even tell me that you love me, and you pretend..” Jeno shifts back, turning his body away from you. “You pretend to hate me.”
Everything inside of you screams to say something, to tell him that he’s wrong, that you do hate him. But there’s that pain in your chest again, the one that feels worse than any pain you’ve ever felt, worse than when Haechan moved away and slowly forgot about you. Worse than when he ignored you after you had sex..
It’s a pain that only Jeno can pull out of you. It’s denial, hate, love, anger, fear, obsession, worry, and right now, that pain fills you with terror. He knows, and more than worrying about what he’ll do to you, you can’t stop the tears from flowing out at the thought of losing him.
“I-I’m sorr—“
“Stop.” He snaps quickly, fully turning away and motioning to the classroom stock closet. “You can come out now.”
Through your bleary vision, you see him come out, big smile, broad and tall. Cocky as he clasp hands with Jeno and shoots you a wink over his shoulder. “You’ll send me a copy too, right?”
“Get the fuck out.” Jeno jeers, crashing his shoulder into Jisung’s side. “Good job though, the money should be in your account.”
“Yeah of course man, anytime.” He smirks before turning to face you, winking as he makes way to pass by you. “And you, I really did have a good time last night.” He leans it quickly to whisper. “If this weird shit you have going on doesn’t work out, you know where to find me.”
“Please…please!” You stammer, feeling overwhelmed and overheated the longer you have to listen to yourself get fucked through all of this. Every bit of confusion struggles to clear as your mind rages and grows heavy, painfully beating through your skull. “Turn it off! Please!”
Jeno snickers, ripping the TV’s power cord out. “Not that you deserve peace of mind right now.” He mumbles, petting the teddy bear he gifted you on your anniversary. “What were you thinking?”
“I..”
What were you thinking??? Obviously you were thinking that your classmate who you’ve secretly had a small liking for may have a small liking for you in return. There’s nothing else to say, you fell right into Jenoms trap, you always will..
“Don’t answer that.” He says, turning toward you with an unrelenting penetrating gaze. “I know what you were thinking. I always know what you’re thinking.”
He steps closer, trapping you against the desk holding your weight up. Weakness takes over your ankles and knees, dropping head head to hang, too ashamed to even look at him. More embarrassed than ashamed.. why should you feel ashamed?
“You thought a guy like that could seriously like you? What’s it going to take for you to learn this lesson?” Jeno continues, voice cutting deep and sharp. “No one here will ever like you except me. Jisung may pity fuck you out of boredom, but he’d never bring a girl like you home. He’d never take you serious, he’ll never give a real fuck about you.”
“T-this whole time..” you stutter, biting down on your lip. “You k-knew this whole time.”
“Pft.” He bends in to meet you eye level, still standing straight to loom over your slouched frame. “I’m always watching you.”
Jeno’s tongue clicks, whistling lowly, taking a step back to snap his fingers in a sarcastic manner. “You know who else could give a shit about you? Haechan.” He nods, finding your red wet eyes. “Haechan who hasn’t acknowledged your existence ever since that day.”
“N-no..” tremors vibrate up your throat, gripping onto the desk beneath you to keep yourself up. “There’s no way..”
“I had a sliver of hope, you know?” He sighs, rubbing at his temples. “I thought maybe you finally understood that Haechan could give a fuck about whatever it is you used to have. That stupid childhood friendship you cherish and hold onto still.” He pauses to look at you, blinking glassy eyes away. “I can’t trust you, even after all that I do to prove to you that you belong with me.”
“This—this isn’t—“
“Haechan—he’ll never love you, he’ll never see you as anything more than some poor loser from his past.” He interrupts, hissing between his teeth. “Jisung, even fatter chance. I’ve explained this to you so many times now. When will you get it.”
“Why are you doing this to me?!” You screech, louder than you even thought possible. Tears rush towards your chin, digging your nails into the cheap old desk wood. “Why me?!?”
Jeno scoops your face, thumbing your wet cheeks softly, almost gently. His own eyes shake, pouring out from the corners. “Because.” He breathes in deep through his nose, wet voice coming out shattered. “I love you.”
I love you I love you I love you. Those three words repeat over and over again, a face full of anger turning into one you can hardly recognize anymore, fingers dug into your cheeks as if he can somehow force you to believe him this way. It hurts to watch more than anything, as Jeno crumbles and falls to his knees, arms wrapped tight around your hips screaming manically that he loves you.
He. Loves. You.
Haechan doesn’t love you, and a guy like Jisung could never love you..
He’s right. Jeno’s right. He’s been right from the very beginning. You could have listened, avoided all of this? The normalcy you wished to have with him, whatever that could have been.. if it ever could have been.
“Why won’t you love me?!” He sounds broken, distraught, hopeless. The hug around your lower half burns, feels like you’ll never be free, you’ll never get away from him.
You don’t want to get away from him anymore.
“I love you, Jeno..” you can hear your voice empty of life as it exits your lips. The image before you too blurry to even make out past your tear-filled gaze. “I love you.”
The grip on your hips loosens, tears calming to a round of sniffles, he stops shaking and slowly lifts his face to look at you. “Say that again.”
Cold, emotionless, demanding. That’s the tone you’re used to..
“I love you.”
Jeno stands back up, quickly cleaning his eyes off with the heel of his palms. A large smile altering the anger and sadness he just displayed seconds ago. “My Teddy.”
He rambles, words slurred together as you fail to process anything that’s just happened. Could this have ever been normal? Or is this simply who Jeno is? He’s obsessive, crazed, dominant and deranged.
“I know you love me.” He sighs happily, tugging you in close and rubbing along your spine. “I knew when you made Jisung put on a condom.”
The way spit clogs up your throat at that makes you choke on your next breath, Jeno’s laugh rumbling against your chest as he pats your back to help you. “I thought so after you made Haechan use one, but this really confirmed it. You wanted to hurt me, wanted to make me jealous..” his voice lowers, shifting to whisper in your ear. “But deep down inside you know I’m the only one you want to fuck you full of cum.”
There’s no point in questioning anything, you know he hates when you do that. You know that he has ways to find out things that you can’t begin to understand. “I know baby, that’s why I had to replace your prescription too. Those mints you always popped in your mouth after eating lunch. It’s cute how you play these little mind games with me..”
Mints?! The birth control you started taking after.. that first time. You knew he was evil, mentally deranged, but fucking your with medication?!
“M-my mints??” You ask in disbelief, having to bite down on the backs of your teeth to stop your jaw from hanging.
Jeno waves a finger at you, tapping your nose. “I don’t believe in that birth control shit.”
And there it is, the same Jeno you became familiar with in this very room. The same one that turns your dreams into nightmares, that makes you look over your shoulder constantly, the one that’s imprisoned you in this inescapable hell.
“It’s cute how you still think you can out-smart me.” He says sternly, pinching your chin. “But nothing about your constant lying is cute.”
He leans in close, eyes wide open taking in your despair, licking up the tears that seem endless. Everything, all of this, you were never going to win. Winning was never an option.
“You’re so special to me.” Sucking at the droplets dangling from your chin, he nips up your jaw to swallow your earlobe. “So special and real, remind me so much of him. Who he used to be.”
Because that’s really what this all boils down to. You never willingly fell for Jeno’s charms the way everyone else does, he had to force this, and even then you didn’t give. You held on to the last bits of yourself that remained raw and real, you chose to love and accept who you are even when he diminished your worth. And that drove him crazy, tickled him in places he forgot existed, reignited those memories of who his best friend once was.
“I love you.” Jeno repeats, whispering just for you, not that anyone could even hear your screams here from room 0423. No one heard you the last time, no one helped, no one cares.
“I love you too.” The tears that pour down from your upper lip could come across as tears of joy. From an outsider's point of view this could look like the happiest moment of your life. Sharing confessions of love with your boyfriend, a handsome young man who can only be described as obsessed with you, but they aren’t happy tears; and as Jeno grins, squatting down to scoop you up, you have to swallow the rancid bile rising up your throat. Laid back down on the same desk he first had his way with you on, the same place he made you shut up and take it.
It’s crazy and out of body when Jeno’s palms drag down your sides, unbutton your top and reaches under your back to unhook your bra. He’s done it many times, it’s muscle memory at this point removing your clothes. Each small drag of his fingertips feel more chilling, crashing waves of shock throughout your system. Even as he strips you nude and licks down your inner thighs you lay there stoic, gaze unwavering from where he stands between your legs taking time to stroke over your figure.
“What’re you thinking about teddy?” He coos, kissing along the tender skin lining your inner thigh. “You look like a lot is going on inside that pretty head..”
What are you thinking? You’re not thinking much of anything. Unable to process a singular thought as you watch him bend in and kiss down the center of your sternum, trailing down to your navel. There’s nothing else you can say right now, nothing else you want to say as tears collect and spill over, running down to your ears.
“I missed you, I missed you so much.”
Jeno slowly cranes his head up to find your tear-filled gaze, he slowly reaches to cup your face, slowly smiles. It all seems too slow in comparison to the breakdown you’re having. Shaking down to the tips of your fingers and toes, body wracked with sobs as he sits you up and thumbs at your wet cheeks.
“Did you sweetheart? You missed me?”
“Y-yes!” You cry out watery, throwing your arms around his waist to pull him in close between your thighs. “You left me, you didn’t come. You always pick me up, you’re always there.”
Jeno falls silent, basking in your misery, savoring the wash of success that rains down on him. He’s broken you, dropped each piece of the puzzle only to reassemble it the way he wants. Broken, fixed, he did that, made you his and only his. His hands reach under your top, stroking up your spine and cooing in your ear. “I’m always there, I’ll always be there.”
That’s his promise, that he’ll always be there for you. He’ll always watch out for you, even if it’s not in the traditional romantic way you’d dreamt of as a child. It’s still special, you’re still special to him. And that’s enough, that’s really enough. Because your body calms down, and your nose finds comfort in his clean scent, eyes falling shut as you begin to relax under his touch.
He straightens out to kiss your cheeks, smooth your hair away from your face and take in the sadness streaked across your iris. It’s sadness with a hint of hope, a hint of something he’s never noticed before. You’re finally looking at him like he means something to you, and that makes Jeno’s chest swell. Heart beating rapidly as he leans in to catch your lips and suck on each until they blister under his bites.
He never kisses you softly when you’re alone, and maybe you like that. He’s passionate and rough, takes control of your mouth and tastes through every little crevice inside. He always tastes good and lingers on your tongue for hours throughout the day, but you like that. You need to feel him, smell him, taste him, belong to him. You need him to remind you of who you belong to when you start to stray and seek attention from anyone else.
“Would you hurt me?” You asked him before, and as your eyebrows crush together while kissing him you have to ask again. Because Haechan hurt you, he hurt you so bad. Jisung hurt you, he hurt you more than he’ll ever know. But Jeno.. he can’t hurt you. If he ever hurt you, there’s no way to predict what you’d do..
“Only if you hurt me.” He says in a serious tone, pulling back to look in your eyes. “You won’t, not anymore. You love me.”
“I—I do, I love you.”
It’s final, it’s your love story. Here in room 0423, the school you worked hard to get into, the scholarship you stayed up late day and night putting in extra credit for. All of that led to this moment in time with Jeno. Led you to your destiny, to the man that loves you.
“I know teddy, I’ve always known.” Taking your hands, he kisses down your fingers from the tips, spending extra time on your knuckles, turning them to drag his lips over your palms. “I have plans for us, our future.”
Plans. Future. Whatever that means.. you’re just happy to be here with him. To let him place your hands on his cock, laugh quietly at the way your fingers can barely wrap around him. “You’d never ask me to wear a condom.” He mumbles. He’s proud of that, says it in a boisterous tone.
“Never.” You agree solemnly.
That’s the best part of this victory. You were never a simple one time fuck, you were always meant to be more. He had to break you down beyond whatever voided space sex could fill, had to ensure your only need in life should ever be him.
It’s easier to lift your legs up and prop your feet on the desk, fully exposing your core. You still whimper and hide your face, still give off a facade of not wanting it.
He wants you to watch, see every second of him filling you up from inside out. To know that your body belongs to him, that he made you this way. He slaps your thighs to get you to hold yourself open, grabbing onto the base of his cock to stroke. Free hand finding your hair to ball up in his grip and keep your neck bent down. “Want my cock sweetheart?”
Jeno shakes you by the tuft of hair in his hold, nodding your head up and down. “I know the small little dicks you let fuck you weren’t shit.”
The way your hips stutter at that and wet arousal bubbles from your hole makes his cock twitch, inching closer to pick up a dollop of your slick, spreading it up to your clit with the tip of his length.
Thankful for the rubber sole of your shoes keeping your feet in place, you moan, biting it down still out of habit. His cock is nice, thick, covered in large projected veins. The fat pink tip dips in past your clenched hole, forcing a gushing wet sound to echo throughout the classroom. It should be humiliating but your body says otherwise, squeezing out more of your arousal with each teasing prod of his cock.
He plays with you like that for a while, to get you desperate and needy the way he likes. Cockhead probbing in and out enough for the mass of his bulbous tip to disappear inside of you.
“J-Jeno..”
That’s it, that’s what he likes to hear. That shattered little way you say his name. He bends in again to lick your cheek clean, dragging his lips to your ear. “Don’t take your eyes off my cock, if you do I won’t be nice.”
That’s how he talks to you, none of that lovey dovey shit when you don’t actually want it. He talks to you like you’re dumb, like you need to be told what to do, and sometimes you do. Times like these when you relinquish all control of yourself and let him turn you into a puppet, you need to be told to speak and listen, to watch and enjoy. He’s good at that, at making you feel small when you need to.
Weakly nodding, you scoot back to get a better grip on the backs of your upper thigh, hold yourself fully open for him. It’s commemorative being here like this again, on this desk, watching him begin to slowly push his fat girth in.
His hands travel down to hold your cunt open, making it stretch even more as you take and take. It always hurts a little bit trying to take all of his length at once, a good hurt, the type the tingles from the end of your spine to your brain. Watching it split you open this up close makes the pain even more surreal, drooling from your mouth like a starved animal. Pussy drooling around his cock the more he buries in, skin pulled taut around the thick shaft.
“Do you see?” Jeno says deep and raspy, pushing in more than half of his mass already. He fingers your clit for a minute, watching your hole convulse around him. “See how damn good you take it baby? You’re so good for me.”
“Unnghhh..” you wanna kick your legs out, throw yourself on him, wrap your arms around his neck. You have to wait, be patient and watch the rest of his size push in. “S-so big.”
“Was made for you.” He says clearly, through the fog clouding your ears. “Was made to fuck you teddy, that’s why I feel so good inside of you. We’re perfect for each other.”
Hearing that makes you brain melt, dropping your head to hang only for Jeno to wrap around your throat and lift your head up, burning you with his fierce gaze.
“When you kissed Haechan,” his hands constraint around your neck, jerking your head to look at him. “Was your body still screaming for me? Is that why you missed me?”
When he says he knows everything about you he really means it. Down to the infestation of emotions crushing your soul everyday. He knows you’ll never be able to recover from what he’s put you through, you’ll always be addicted, crawling like a fiend for the next hit.
“You were thinking of me, that’s it right? With your lips pressed tightly up against his skin.” He says in the most condescending tone, dragging the tips of his fingers up your jaw while keeping a tight clasp around your throat. “Was he even worth the fuck?”
In the end, he wasn’t, your eyes tell Jeno everything he needs to know. The ache and lust, pangs of guilt muddled between. “Did he fuck you like this?”
The rest of his length sinks in, thrusting in the fat base of his cock ruthlessly, nearly losing your balance if not for the chokehold he has you in. “He’d never fuck you like this, not the way you need. Nobody ever will.”
To drive it home he pulls out completely, making your pussy gape wide open and dribble a wad of wetness out that spills onto the classroom floor. You want to agree with him, tell him that he’s right, that he’s the only one that will ever fulfill your needs now, coughing and blubbering your whimpers as you try to inhale. He fucks into you like a rabid feral wolf, plunging his cock in and out all the way to hear your gurgled scream. It hurts it hurts it hurts, it hurts so fucking good.
The more animalistic he becomes, the more your skin drips with sweat, straining to keep yourself in this position on the desk. Legs more like jelly as your feet begin to slip and your ass slides forward. Jeno only pummels into you faster, determined to rip through your womb, leave a mark on your cervix.
He grunts wildly, releasing your neck abruptly to wrap around your waist and cup your ass right as you nearly fall off the desk. Each thrust inside feels more erratic than the last, diving his cock in deeper than you’ve ever felt anything reach. He’s relentless, growling through it all, exerting power and anger as he hoists you up by your ass and your legs wrap around his hips limply.
“Fuck my baby into you.” He grunts furiously, throwing your body up and down on his cock. Hand prints bloom on your throat, dropping your head back to let out a howling moan, crying out for only Jeno to save you now. For Jeno to do whatever he wants with you.
Your cries has him laying you back on the desk, needing to see for himself how broken and pathetic you look. Hauling your thighs to wrap around him securely to not lose an inch of warmth blanketing his length. He pounds in balls deep, the clap of his sack meeting your ass resounding throughout the room wet and loud, making your legs tremble with each barreling thrust.
“Yeah? Fuck you full of my kids.” He growls, reaching for your shoulders to really lose it on you. Jerking back up the desk by each violent smack of his hips crashing down on you. It’s the crazed look in his eyes that hurdles you back into the last time, catching the faded sound of your pleading, of your denial. Screaming out no no! Over and over again, only for him to ignore you, have his way and ruin you for anyone else.
“P-please—“ you cry, squeezing around his meaty girth as much as you’re able to, feet dangling bonelessly behind him. “P-please, make me y-yours.”
It could have been this way last time, wanting him to have you instead of begging him to stop. It could have been normal, but the two of you were never destined for that. You were meant to be his as much as he was made to be yours. The wet smack of his balls turns messy, the looming broad frame mounting you losing his composure as you look up at him and more tears trail down your cheeks.
“You always look prettiest when you cry.” Jeno grits out, falling down against you to slam home a few more jerky thrusts. Cock spurting out enough cum to surely knock you up, pushing it in deep with each digging swivel of his hips and he grabs onto your chin and laps your hot cheek clean of tears.
“Might have to keep getting you pregnant after this..” he mumbles, kissing the swell of your lips. “Fuck your ass in the mean time while you’re knocked up. I know how my teddy likes it..”
It’s hot and sticky between your bodies, nodding slowly at what he says, you suck on his thumb until both of you have calmed and caught your breath.
He’s not just inside of you, he’s seeping from your pores, infiltrating your nervous system, tearing you open from inside out. Each exhausted breath he takes lines up to yours, blinking simultaneously, twitching through the aftershocks of your orgasm at the same time. He’s yours, and you are his. One soul, one heart, one love combining you.
“I love you.” He pants, reaching between your sweaty bodies to smooth his palm over your extended stomach, bulging out with his cock lodged in so deep. “I love us.”
Jeno did more than ruin your life. He destroyed everything you’ve worked hard for. Shattering your hopes and dreams, demolishing any type of independence you strived to achieve, he stripped all those dreams away.
He’s your new dream.
“I love you too.”
He hums, shifting to bracket your head with his biceps, littering gentle kisses across your wet tear-stained cheeks. “I know teddy, I know.”
･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･･ ⋆ ･
There are many ways you envisioned the future. Flying cars, trains that can get you from one side of a state to another at the speed of light, maybe even actual superheroes.
You can even recall sitting side by side with Haechan reading Uzumaki after the fight you had that brought you into each other’s lives in the first place. If you hadn’t wanted to read that damn manga so bad, if you had just shown up at the comic book store any other day. He had sat there with you, thigh pressed to yours, bangs too long and shabby, flicking up with each blink.
You thought it was nice, to like a boy, to have a crush. It was nice to go home and giggle while brushing your teeth, sent off to dream after your mom tucked you in. Haechan had appeared, the Haechan he’d grow up to be someday. The Haechan you wanted him to be someday, but the thing about dreams is they’re silly.
“I don’t believe in dreams.” Jeno says behind you, zipping up the back of your dress. “There’s more power in manifestation.”
But dreams are manifestations if you think about it, and while you dreamt of the future with Haechan, you remember it had been just like Uzumaki.
Spirals had begun to sprout up in the small town around you, driving everyone insane. Infecting each inch of surface and land, and you, you reached for Haechan as he escaped the swarm of spirals. You screamed, shouted, pleaded for him to grab a hold of your hands and save you.
And then you woke up, sitting up in your childhood bed feeling a sense of dread.
“I manifested you.” Jeno kisses your nape, fixing your hair into place. “My Teddy.”
No. He didn’t. That’s what you want to say, to let him know. He didn’t manifest you, you let him in years ago when Haechan stood there in your dream. Watched you get swallowed up by the spirals, the exact same way he watched Jeno swallow you whole. He did nothing then, he did nothing now, exactly like your dream.
It’s been a week now since you last went to class. A week now since you moved out of your studio apartment, Jeno reminding you that ‘That shithole is no place for my soon-to-be wife to live.’ as he drove you to a new apartment. Furnished, never lived in, a great view of the city, and two bedrooms.
‘Until I’ve saved up enough for a house, this will be perfect for our little family.’
He kisses your forehead and held you close, admiring the scenery outside of your bedroom window. ‘You’ll never have to worry about anything again.’
Don’t ask questions, don’t worry, just trust him.
Because he knows you’d never handle the truth without a fight. The anonymous threats he holds over Haechan’s father’s head, the thousands of dollars he’s set aside just to get you away from your childhood friend. It’s all been a part of his plan, and thankfully it worked. Of course it did, everything works out for Jeno.
“We won’t stay out too late.” Jeno smiles, reaching over to the passenger seat to tweak your chin. “You look so fucking cute in that costume.”
“I feel fat.” You mumble, poking at your exposed stomach.
“Don’t start.” He tuts, slapping your hand away. “You look like my fluffy cute teddy.”
You really do. Wearing fluffy round ears on your head, fuzzy tan brown bralette and matching shorts with a puffed tail attached. Jeno held up the costume with a huge smile, tossing it your way only a few hours ago and letting you know to get ready for a Halloween party tonight.
His costume seemed much more simple, nothing more than a Michael Meyers face mask and his usual attire. Tight black tee, fitted dark wash jeans, combat boots, studded leather belt.
You look really good too Jeno.
That’s what you wanted to say, especially after the last few weeks of falling asleep in the same bed together. You really really really wanted to say it, to tell him he looks hot, sexy, devastatingly attractive.
You say nothing though, following along with his arm around your shoulder through a throng of partygoers dancing around in their fun costumes. Fairies, iconic characters, Barbies, Bratz Dollz, cops and robbers. It’s fun really, your first Halloween party, your first Halloween party with your boyfriend.
“Water?” He hands you a cup of clear liquid, ignoring the bottles of alcohol lined up atop the kitchen counter of whoevers house this is.
“Thanks.”
He nods, directing you to a long winding staircase leading you up to an enormous hallway entrance. Rich people of course, luxurious decor, expensive paintings, every inch of this place spotless surely thanks to a 24 hour live-in maid service.
“There’s still one last thing I need to fix for you.”
Jeno walks backward, facing you with that blank faced mask on, arms prominent and flexed in the confines of his tight shirt. “That’s why we’re here Teddy.”
What could that even mean? One last thing to fix for you. Nothing can be fixed anymore.
“Come here baby.” It’s dark up here, darker in the room he tugs you inside of, immediately pinning your body to the wall, digging his fingers into your waist. “How am I supposed to keep my hands off of you?” He grunts, turning you around to press your breasts to the wall, stroking your hair aside to kiss your nape and toy with the leather choker there.
He says that offhandedly sometimes while you’re lazing around in bed after waking up. It’s so hard to keep his hands off of you, he has no idea how he’ll manage once you give birth.
That’s why you’re here, surprised he even bothered to find a room to hide you away in. Among the many things Jeno likes, he loves to show you off, love for everyone to know you are his.
He doesn’t waste time to strip your panties off, dropping them to your ankles to squeeze your ass with his heavy thick palms. Holding you apart to watch your wrinkled rim flinch and tighten up. “Not tonight sweetheart. Gotta fuck your pretty pussy, you know that. Have to make sure your womb stays full.”
He still runs a thumb across your rim, just to watch your hips jut back, so needy.
“Stay still okay?” Jeno says sweetly, pointing to the door. “And don’t look away.”
He steps back for a minute, letting the cool air circulating around the room roll shivers up your back, chewing on your lip in anticipation.
You think you hear a click, something else familiar that you can’t exactly put your finger on before the warmth of his body returns and presses against you.
“Now where were we? My poor teddy, already making a mess.” He whispers against the shell of your ear, hand slipping between your thighs to rub the wetness around that's smeared down. “Should I fuck you now? Make my teddy feel real good?”
“Y-yes..” you whine, keeping your gaze locked on the door like he commanded. It’s not good to disobey Jeno, and you don’t intend to.
“Beg for it better than that..” the weight of his size smacks against your ass, hot and heavy. Letting you know he’s fully hard and ready to fuck. “Come on.”
“Please Jeno.. wanna feel f-full..” you do your best to sound sweet, docile and small. Anything to not spend another minute without him inside of you.
“Is that all I am to you? A big cock to get yourself off on? Huh?” He seeps between your thighs, gripping onto your hips firmly. Rocking his hips forward, the clap of his skin hitting the perk of your ass resounds. Your skin sticky from body shimmer and lotion, moistening up as he ruts between your thighs.
“N-no.. love you, love your cock too.” You whimper, having to bite down on your hand to not scream when he slaps your hip and lets out a deep pleased grunt.
“That’s what I like to hear sweetheart.” Without bothering to warn you, he pushes in, pausing a little more than halfway only to savor the wet trickle of arousal drenching his length. “Fuck, that’s how much you love my cock? Dripping this fucking much already.”
“Yesyesyes!” You nod into your hand, bumping your head against the wall. Biting down harder on your fingers as impending screams rise up your throat. Muffling the one that breaks free when he pushes into the hilt.
Jeno’s cock always feels like the first time everytime, so big and fucking thick. Penetrating deep in ways that don’t even seem humanly possible. He always makes you cum, makes you want to go again even when your body needs a break.
“L-love h-how full you m-make me!” You blabber, reaching to grab onto the wall as he builds up speed and starts to thrust faster. Palms slide up your waist to fuck you the way he wants, pulling out to the tip each time and diving the entirety of his length right back in to really make you feel and take every inch.
“You love it?! You love me?” He growls, sliding one hand lower to find your clit before you’re able to respond. He knows you’ll choke on your next words, making your pussy gush out more around him as he rams up and fucks you vigorously. “Answer me!”
“Yes yes! I love you!” You wail, bounced up and down fiercely. The angle placing the tip of his cock right under your navel. “Ah! Ah f-fuck!”
“Yeah, keep fucking saying that sweetheart.” He roars, biting at your shoulder, swiping your clit side to side. Thin fingers play you like a fiddle, stroking and pinching your clit until you’re clenching around him. Toes pointed off the ground, neck tossed back in ecstasy.
Jeno reaches so deep, he fills you up so so good, he stretches you open in a way you’ve become addicted to. Clawing at the wall on the brink of your orgasm, chanting repetitive begging between your moans. He eats it all up, groans against your skin, shoving his mask off as the door opens.
“That’s it Teddy,” fisting your hair, he shoves your cheek against the wall, maneuvering your face toward the stream of light that enters. “Milking my cock so fucking good.”
Haechan’s eyes meet yours, wide and bewildered, quickly scanning from Jeno back to you. “Cum for me, let him see how you really take it baby. Show that bitch who you fucking love.”
It hurts. The pleasure between your thighs taking over your lower half as your heart pinches and aches, the two powerful emotions crashing head to head. And Jeno thrusts in hard, swiping his fingers rapidly along the sides of your clit until you’re crying out, slapping the wall with a shout.
“That’s my girl, that’s my fucking girl.” He rasps behind you, cupping your face to bite down on your jaw. Through your dazed euphoria you think that’s your broken voice spewing out a song of IloveyouIloveyouIloveyou, eyes rolled back as the cool chill washes away from your skin with an overwhelming wave of heat.
Jeno sport’s the biggest and most wicked smile, watching Haechan’s face fall. The last thing his old best friend could snatch away from his life, successfully crushing the relationship you ever had with him. He watches his old friend back away disgusted, and he cums, filling you with a hot stream of white, exclaiming how much he loves you.
“Love you so much baby,” he’s never sounded so honest, so enthralled and at ease. Drawing your waist back with his ripped arms, wrapping a safe hold around you to keep your limbless body against his. “Love you enough to give you my baby.”
His palms glide down, ending in their new favorite spot right beneath your navel. Kissing up your neck softly, murmuring about the future. “You’ll never be able to get rid of me now Teddy. We’re one now, you and I.”
There’s a hint of threat laced in his words, gently petting the area where he’s imagined a small bump will begin to show soon.
They day you met Haechan and lost him broke your heart. The day you met Jeno turned your life upside down, discovered the shattered pieces and put them back together again, finally showing you what you’ve always secretly wished for.
“I love you Jeno.”
“I know.”
#jeno smut#lee jeno smut#nct dream smut#nct smut#kpop smut#haechan smut#lee haechan smut#park jisung smut#jisung smut#nct dream fanfiction#neopuppy fics#nct fanfiction#kpop fanfiction#haechan fanfic#jisung fanfic#nct dream x reader#nct x reader
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heyy i love how well written your works are, and i was wondering if there could be another tara carpenter x gp reader?? an enemies to lovers kinda thing, smut/fluff but it is totally up to you!! thankss❤️
All Mine
Tara Carpenter x gp!reader
Words: 2.8k
A/n: thank you!! also kind of a combination of this request and a prompt in this request
Warnings: reader has a penis, hate fuck? i think?, bottom!T, top!R, explicit sex, implication of breeding kink, teasing (lots of it), unprotected sex (your pullout game is weak), implication of alcohol consumption, no ghostface au
MINORS DNI!!
Tara hates three things in her life. You, hairless cats, and soggy bread. In that order too
She could handle hating hairless cats and soggy bread, but you? You were in Tara’s friend group. Tara hated you and to make matters worse, she was the only one that did
You were nerdy like Wes and Ethan, quick-witted and funny like Mindy and Amber, athletic like Chad, charismatic like Quinn, protective like Sam, and (allegedly) nice like Anika. You had nearly every one of her friends best traits, but Tara knew why she didn’t like you. You were really fucking annoying
Along with all of your positive traits, you were loud and obnoxiously social. Not that Tara was antisocial or anything, but god you were on a whole other level. It was mildly infuriating how you could go to a party you knew nobody at and somehow come out with more friends than you started with
All those people and you decided Tara was the one you’d annoy. A nudge to her shoulder made Tara look up from where she was putting her head down
“You look like shit” The brunette doesn’t respond and puts her head back down on the table
“Sam tase someone without your permission again?” Tara could practically hear the smirk in your voice
“Please for the love of god shut the fuck up. Your voice is the last thing I need to hear today”
“Woah, someone’s mad” You stick out your tongue in response at the glare Tara sends your way
“Suck my dick, (Y/n).”
“Don’t tempt me with a good time, Carpenter”
Tara abruptly leaves the lecture room. You think you really fucked up this time, but let out a breath of relief when you see that Tara didn’t grab her things. She was probably going to the bathroom to escape you. Which, who would ever want to escape you?
Apparently not Tara because she’s back in her seat just a few minutes before the lecture starts
“Aspirin?” You grab the bottle from a pocket in your bag, shaking it next to her
“You have Aspirin laying around?”
“Anika told me you were at a party, I figured it’s the least I could do”
“You’re trying to drug me, aren’t you?”
“If I was trying to drug you, I would’ve offered it to you at the end of class”
“Why weren’t you at the party?” Tara asks, taking the bottle from you hands and shaking out two tablets before downing them with some water
“Missed me?”
“Nope, just surprised you weren’t blackout drunk”
“Good to know you think highly of me. I was studying, thank you”
“You? Study?” Tara scoffs
“Don’t act like the idea is so out of this world”
“Right, because last time I remember you passing up a party was because your betta fish died and you forced all of us to have a funeral for him at the park”
“Trout’s death is not one to be made fun of!”
Before Tara can respond, the professor starts talking and the lesson begins. Unfortunately her head is still kind of throbbing with only mildly wanting to throw up. She had to accept she wasn’t going to get anything done until that Aspirin kicked in. Especially when she can feel you staring at her
The class goes as smoothly as it can and you notice Tara hasn’t made an effort to even try to take notes. The lesson eventually ends and when everyone gets up, the brunette begrudgingly does too
You bump your shoulders together and Tara glares at you with enough power you actually manage to feel fear for a split second until you realize it’s Tara. The girl was like two apples tall. Two and a half on a good day
The brunette doesn’t realize you were handing her a paper so you physically have to place it in her hand. Her eyebrows furrow in confusion
“What is this?”
“Notes, you need them”
“I’m not buying you Raising Canes if that’s what you want”
“Since I’m such a good friend, I’ll give it to you free of charge. Just make sure to bring it back with minimal damage”
“You’re not gonna make me Paypal you fifty bucks?” Tara doesn’t have any classes for the next few hours so you two made a point to walk to your next class. She didn’t know how it started, but you were okay to talk to when you weren’t being annoying
“In my defense, Trout recently died”
“We buried him in the fucking park, I don’t think that costs money”
“It was condolence money. I made everyone pay and I think it was pretty genius”
“I really do wonder how you still have friends”
//-//
Someone knocks on the door of you and Anika’s apartment. When you realize your roommate is probably listening to music that was too loud to be healthy, you get up from your very comfortable bed
You don’t remember ordering food and you’re pretty sure Anika didn’t invite Mindy over, so the person behind the door was probably just the nice old lady across the hall that made cookies for everyone
For better or for worse, you’re met with a Tara Carpenter that’s caught off guard when you open the door. Tara usually sees you in well put together outfits so you can only imagine her surprise when she sees you wearing boxers that outlined your cock and a hoodie that barely covered it up
“Eyes are up here- What brings you to the Mojo Dojo Casa House?”
“Can’t you just let me in?” Tara’s cheeks burn in embarrassment. Thank god you just glossed over… it
“It’s protocol you identify yourself and state why you’re here” You lean on the doorframe, actively blocking the entrance to your apartment. Tara knew this was a losing battle and hated how you looked hot while winning
“Anika and I have a project we need to work on”
“You didn’t identify yourself” you’re wearing that same dumbass smirk you have after telling a horrible joke
“Tara. Tara fucking Carpenter.”
“Unfortunately I don’t think we know any Tara Fucking Carpenters. Guess you can’t come in” you shrug
“God give me patience.” Tara rubs at her temples like you’re giving her a headache
“Isn’t it god give me strength?”
“If god gave me strength, you would be dead.”
“Point taken, but you still need a password”
“You didn’t say anything about a password!”
“Yeah, well, I don’t know if you’re the real Tara or not. Say a fact about me only the real Tara would know”
The brunette pretends to think for a moment, even putting her hand on her chin and looking off into the distance for effect. When she notices you’re starting to get suspicious of her antics Tara pushes you though the door, successfully getting in without a password or confirmation
You stumble back almost like a cartoon character and you can hear Tara let out a small laugh. You can see the dimples on her cheeks whe she tries to cover it up with her hand
“Nika, your friend’s here!” You lead Tara to Anika’s room, making sure to knock loudly while Tara’s busy either checking you out or trying to blow you up with her mind. It’s unclear, but you have to lean towards the latter
“Isn’t Tara your friend too?” Your roommate opens the door, headphones around her neck
“No.”
“Yes.” Both of you say in unison. The look you give each other is almost comical with how Tara’s glaring while you’re smiling. Anika stares blankly between you two and it eventually starts to make more sense
“Stop eye fucking each other, we have work to do” Anika pulls Tara into her room. You shrug, heading off to probably yell at ten year olds on Fortnite or something
“We were not eye fucking” the shorter girl huffs, sitting on Anika’s bed
“I literally opened my door and thought you two were about to make out”
“I didn’t expect to get interrogated when I came here!” Tara flops onto her back, covering her eyes and trying (and failing) to stop the red that dusted her cheeks
“Whatever, I’ll get you to crack later”
“Kill yourself.”
//-//
Tara doesn’t understand what she’s feeling when she sees some random girl grind against you
It’s like that one scene in Euphoria when Maddy and Nate stare each other down at the school dance, except you were looking far more more bored. That is, until you see Tara glaring at both of you
Like a switch turned on, you’re suddenly more interested in the girl. You encourage her grinding with a hand kneading her hip, using your other hand to take a sip of your drink. And just like Maddy, she’s tempted to find Chad to do the same to you. She doesn’t.
Tara fucking hated you. But she also needed you now.
Making you jealous would take too long. In theory she had the time, but her hunger to taste you was making her do things she would’ve never thought of before. One of those things being grabbing your hand and leading you away from any girl that tried to even look at you.
The girl who was grinding on you calls her a bitch among other things, but Tara knows it’s worth it when she sees you smile at her like she’s your entire world. Because she was your entire world
She leads you into an empty guest bedroom of the house, locking the door before getting close enough to you she can smell the alcohol in your breath
“What’s all this about, Tar?” You grin. Tara doesn’t know if she wants to kiss or slap that smirk right off of your annoying face
“You know what this is fucking about.”
“Do I? I think you should spell it out for me.”
“You know, I’ve had it with your attitude.” Tara jabs a finger at your chest, the back of your knees hitting the end of the bed. In one motion you sit down and bring Tara down with you. You make her sit on your cock
“Anyone ever tell you you’re fucking hot when you’re mad?” You smile, finding the blush on Tara’s cheeks absolutely adorable
“Only you.”
“Good. How about we keep it that way, baby?”
“You’re so annoying.” The brunette cups your face with both of her hands, your lips fitting together like they were always meant to
“I know I am” You say in between kisses, your hands finding their way up Tara’s shirt, kneading the spot right under her boob. She forces your hand to stimulate her nipple, eliciting a moan from her mouth
“You’re so pretty, Tar. I can’t believe only I get to see you get all hot and bothered” You smile breathlessly
“Fuck. S-Stop talking like that or you’ll make me like you” Biting a hickey on Tara’s neck, you take of her shirt and her bra in a flurry of heat
“I bet you’ll like me even more when you’re bouncing on my cock” You force Tara to grind on the bulge in your pants, earning you a small whimper that makes you smile
“C’mon, all you have to do is admit you like me and I’ll fuck you better than anyone has” It should be considered torture how much you were teasing Tara. You were biting hickeys on her neck, playing with her nipples, all while a few layers of fabric were the only barriers between your dick and her pussy. Fuck you knew how to overstimulate a girl
Laying Tara on on the bed, you could really tease the brunette better in this position. You can feel the Tara’s wetness through her soaked panties, and you’re sure she can feel the pre-cum leak out of your cock. Your hands are on her hips as if you were thrusting, yet you deny her and your pleasure for the sake of being an ass
“Don’t you want me to ruin you for anyone else? I promise I’ll stretch you out so good no other guys’ cock can fill you up like me.”
“Fuck you. I hate you, you’re s-such a fucking asshole, you know that?” Tara reaches for anything she can hold onto, your arms being the nearest thing
“I can think ways you could ‘hate’ me even more” You smile when Tara reaches to take off her panties but you find her hands first. You intertwine your hands together and the action is so soft Tara almost forgets about the situation she’s in. Almost
“Whenever I masturbate I think of you, did you know that? God, sometimes I have these hookups and all I can think about is you cumming around my cock”
Tara thinks it’s embarrassing how she’s about to cum just by your sickeningly sweet voice and the constant friction between you two. Tara also thinks she’d rather die than miss an opportunity of a lifetime.
Sure you were a cocky pain in the ass, but you were her cocky pain in the ass.
“Fuck- I admit it! I think you’re the hottest fucking person in the world. I like you.” Tara looks straight into your eyes, and the smile reserved only for her makes another appearance
“That wasn’t so hard, was it Tar?”
“I still hate you.” You unbuckle your belt and unbutton and unzip your jeans with watchful eyes. You pull down your boxers just enough so that your cock springs out, making Tara’s mouth water. Fuck you were big
Pulling Tara’s panties to the side, she’s dripping wet when you swipe your finger across her slit
“Fuck- (Y-Y/n)” Tara sings when you lick up her juices with your tongue. She buries her hands in your hair, bringing you closer to her dripping cunt. You moan at her taste and the vibrations are almost enough to get Tara to cum. Almost
You rise to your knees, lining up your dripping cock with the shorter girls dripping pussy. You decide to be evil and rub your dick against her slit before easing your tip into her hole. It was infuriating how slow you were going and Tara remembers why she hated you in the first place
Tara’s whining and whimpering under you and you can’t remember a time where you’ve been happier than in this moment
Tara on the other hand, has never hated you more in her life than in this moment
The younger Carpenter decides to be bold when she grabs your shirt and forces you forward. You’re caught off guard and over half of your cock finds itself nestled tightly in her pussy as you catch yourself with your arms
“Y-You’re sneaky, aren’t ‘cha” With your face so close to hers, Tara realizes you’re as much of a victim to your teasing as she is. She can tell it’s taking everything inside of you not to fuck her raw until your dick is limp and Tara’s legs are sore
“You can go fast. I can handle it, baby” Tara cups your face with her hand, stroking your cheek with such softness like you aren’t literally lodged into her cunt like a dog in heat
With that confirmation, you give Tara a peck on the lips and buck your hips in such a way you hit that spongey spot inside of her
The sound of skin slapping is louder than the blasting music downstairs, but your grunting and Tara’s moaning combined are louder than both. Thank god the owner of the house was your friend because you don’t know if you could come out of that room if this is what Tara sounded like
“Fuck- I’m close” You say a little too breathlessly for your liking
“Don’t p-pull out.” The shorter girl uses your shirt as leverage to keep you inside of her. Your eyebrows furrow in confusion
“T-Too messy, don’t feel like cleaning up.” Tara answers between moans like she can read your mind
The familiar heat you’re so used to finally snaps. Wrapping her legs around yours, you cum with almost a guttural whine. Your orgasm is enough for Tara to have hers and you fuck her through it, making sure none of your cum drips out of her hole
You pull out and a few dribbles of your semen flow out of her cunt. You plug her pussy with your fingers and Tara is far too sensitive to handle it
“D-Don’t tell me you’re tired already?” Tara jokes, but all air in her lungs leave when you let out a laugh of your own
“I’ve got all night, love.”
Tara has to remember to make you buy her a morning after pill.
#jenna ortega x reader#jenna ortega#tara carpenter x reader#scream#tara carpenter#scream 6#tara carpenter scream#mindy meeks martin#chad meeks martin#anika kayoko#samantha carpenter#quinn bailey#ethan bailey#wes hicks#amber freeman
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Old Money, Bratty Honey
pairing: bodyguard!Wonwoo x heiress!reader x bodyguard!Vernon
genre: smut - minors dni.
warnings: car sex (a limo specifically), public sex (the windows are tinted but still), mean dom!wonwoo, switch!vernon, brat!reader, sir kink, edging, hair pulling, blowjobs, facefucking, degradation, masturbation, voyeurism, cum swallowing, reader is rich and spoiled (yk how the rest goes)
requested by @onlymingyus
word count: 1.7k
summary: being born in money gives you the chance to try pretty much everything in the world - that includes fucking your two hot bodyguards in your dad's limousine.
Author's note: hello <3 this fic was requested by beloved mars - the unesco forum pics did a LOT of damage
tagging: @gyuwoncheol @wonwussy bcs they asked to suffer so here we are
©multi-kpop-fanfics, 2023. No reposting allowed. No translations allowed without permission.
“Do you remember your speech?”
“Tch, of course I do.” You roll your eyes. “I wrote it myself, remember?”
“I know you did. Just wanted to check whether your brain cells are still active.” Wonwoo smirks.
“Unlucky for you, they are very much intact and in better shape than yours.” You bite back.
“Is there any time of any day where the two of you don’t argue?” Vernon groans from behind you. “Can we just…enjoy the little time we have left until we arrive at the venue?”
“Mmm, of course we can, Nonie.” You turn your attention to your other bodyguard. “He’s never fun, either way. But you are way more fun, right?” You make yourself comfortable in his lap, your manicured hands smoothing over his chest.
“Anything for you, honey. You know me.” Vernon smirks and leans in the crevice of your neck, lips and tongue gliding over your skin.
Wonwoo sighs in defeat and averts his eyes from the unfolding scene, trying to ignore it.
If it wasn’t for the hefty salary that gets deposited every month in his bank account, he wouldn’t even be here. He would rather be walking at a dingy bar, rather than have to babysit a rich brat like you.
And the worst thing of all? You’re smart and hot as fuck - to the point where he wants to stuff your mouth full of his dick and make you cry.
You’re aware of how uptight and cold Wonwoo is towards you and you can’t really blame him for his attitude - being head of security under your dad basically requires that attitude. Which makes messing around with him even more fun for you.
Vernon, on the other hand, is your assigned personal bodyguard and would fold in half for you, if you asked him to. One bat of your eyelashes is enough to make him cave to any request of yours, thus giving you the perfect cover for your night escapades.
But of course, he always gets rewarded for his secrecy and faith to you - in the form of letting him fuck you dumb more than often.
This is one of the occasions where you want to mess around with both of them at the same time.
You throw the fabric of your gown backwards to uncover your legs and give yourself enough space to grind your clothed pussy over Vernon’s slacks.
“Careful with your gown, honey.” He reminds you.
“It’s just fabric, I could have tens of that.” You grin towards him.
“How rich and bratty, coming from you.” Wonwoo comments with a venomous tone.
“Yeah, that’s because I am rich, bratty, pretty and smart and you want to fuck me so bad.” You reply boldly.
He slides next to Vernon and grips your jaw with his right hand, keeping it steady directly in front of his face.
“You’re right, little bitch. I want to fuck the brat out of you, to the point you’re crying and begging me to stop.” His voice feels deeper and colder than the ocean, his eyes burning holes in your skull through his horn-rimmed glasses.
You almost hate how hot and fuckable Wonwoo looks today - but you’ve always wanted to know what’s hidden under his professional attire.
“I would like to see you try, you fucking nerd. I bet you’re still a virgin-”
He cuts you off by dragging you off Vernon’s lap and pushes you down on your knees, between his thighs.
“Dude, what the hell!” Vernon glares at the older man.
“Shut the fuck up, Vernon. You have gotten plenty of time with her since you got your job. Now sit back and watch.” Wonwoo orders him as he unbuttons his pants and lets his cock spring free.
Your eyes widen at the size and it makes your mouth fill with saliva and your pussy dampens your Victoria’s Secret panties.
“Tell me, Vernon - Does the pretty brat over here like to suck dick?” Wonwoo asks with a dangerous glint in his eyes as he runs his fist over his shaft.
“Y-Yeah, she does.” The younger man stutters.
“Does she swallow?”
“Yes, she does.”
“Yes what, Vernon?”
“Yes s-sir.”
“Hm, at least one of you can behave.” Wonwoo turns his attention to you again.
“Enjoying the power trip, Wonwoo?” You place your hands over his thighs, rubbing them up and down.
“It’s Sir for you, little brat.” He puts his hand behind your neck and brings your face close enough to let his cock slap against your cheek. “Now put your smartass mouth to good use, will you?”
“And what if I don’t want to?” You rile him up even more.
Wonwoo threads his hands in the back of your hair and forcefully slides his cock in your mouth. You gag when the tip hits your throat, but you manage to suppress your reflex with ease.
“Fuck, honey…” Vernon curses under his breath and starts palming himself over his pants.
“No need to be jealous, Vernon - I’m sure you have experienced this already, right?” Wonwoo chuckles as he uses your hair as leverage to fuck your face.
“I could get used to this, Y/N - this cock-stuffed version of yours is quite likable.”
You grunt in response and purposefully drag your teeth over his cock, eliciting a hiss from him. He drags you off his cock and pulls you upwards, forcing your back to arch.
“Do that one more time and your daddy will find out his precious daughter is a fucking slut.” He threatens you.
“You don’t want to do this, Sir.” You slur the title on purpose. “You’ll be at loss in the end, especially after fucking me like you wanted to,” you grip his wrist, “So, I suggest you keep your mouth shut and I’ll let you fuck me stupid. How does that sound?” You grin.
“Little bitch.” Wonwoo scoffs and puts your mouth back on his cock.
“Fuck, Y/N, you look so damn pretty.” Vernon moans on the side, his own pants long unbuttoned, hand stroking his pre-cum coated dick.
Your eyes flit to the younger man and you send him a wink, but it doesn’t go unnoticed by Wonwoo.
“Eyes on me, brat. And you,” he snaps his head towards Vernon, “You better not fucking cum until I say so.”
“S-Sir, I won’t-”
“Don’t. Fucking. Cum.” He repeats with something akin to a growl.
“Fuck, I won’t!” Vernon whines in defeat, a bead of sweat rolling down his neck, his hand slowing down to keep himself on edge.
You moan around Wonwoo’s cock, nails digging in the fabric of his pants as you hollow your cheeks and do your best to bring him closer to his orgasm.
“Shit, I’m gonna cum- You better swallow every last drop like you do with him, princess.”
You bat your eyelashes to let him know you’re ready and he presses your head until you’ve taken him till the base. You can feel the saltiness of his cum coursing down your throat. You pin your eyes on Wonwoo and stare at him until you’ve sucked his cock clean, swallowing till the last drop.
He retracts his hand and lets you get off his lap, whispering a few words in your ear, low enough to not be heard by anyone else.
“I don’t mean to interrupt but I really need to fucking cum and I don’t want to bust my nut all over the suit.” Vernon half moans, hand gripping his cock tight.
You move between his legs with a sultry smile and engulf his cock with your mouth. It only takes him a few harsh sucking motions of your lips to make him cum, a string of heavy breaths and moans coming out of his mouth.
You release his shaft with an obscene popping sound, opening your mouth to show him the amount of cum in it. You swallow it in one gulp, licking your lips clean.
“Filthy little slut.” Wonwoo clicks his tongue as he tucks himself back in.
“Couldn’t agree more.” Vernon clears his throat and tidies himself as well.
“That was definitely fun,” you sit back on the leather seats and open your purse to take out a pack of wet wipes and clean your hands. A small hair brush follows right after and you fix your hair, as if they were never touched in the first place.
“How is your makeup still intact?” Vernon asks you with narrowed eyes.
“Ever heard of waterproof makeup?” You side eye him.
“As long as Daddy is paying, everything must be on point for his pretty little heiress.” Wonwoo comments. “We’re here, be ready.”
“No need to remind me of my job, Wonwoo.”
As soon as he opens the door of the limousine to help you out, you’re welcomed with countless flashing cameras and microphones shoved in your way, but Vernon rushes next to your side to keep them at a safe distance.
You put on your finest smile for the cameras, knowing which way to turn your head so the gossip magazines will have only your best shots.
The noises of the crowd are drowned out once the three of you enter the venue of the gala and your bodyguards double check that everything is okay and you can proceed.
“How ironic to see the two of you being so professional while you were cumming like highschool boys just a few minutes ago.” You giggle.
“How ironic to see you acting like a proper lady after sucking off your security entourage in your daddy’s limousine like a cheap whore.” Wonwoo smirks and you fight back the urge to hit his head with your purse, as you walk over to the table with your assigned seat.
“You didn’t have to be so sassy about it.” Vernon covers his mouth to hide his grin.
“And you should have been more discreet with your visits in her room.” Wonwoo almost snaps at him with a stern look on his face.
“You’re not actually gonna snitch, are you?” The younger man looks at him partially horrified.
Wonwoo’s lips curl in a dirty smirk and he leans into Vernon’s ear.
“As long as you’re willing to stand guard in front of her door all night long while I’m teaching the little brat some manners, then your dirty secret is safe with me.”
Vernon pokes his cheek with his tongue, wishing he was able to shove his fist in Wonwoo’s face.
“So? Are you willing to do that, Chwe?”
“.....Yes sir.”
“That’s what I thought.”
#svthub#wonwoo smut#vernon smut#hansol smut#svt wonwoo#svt vernon#jeon wonwoo#hansol vernon chwe#svt smut#seventeen smut#seventeen
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hey can I request something that’s angsty to fluff and then smut for Oscar where reader gets a ton of hate for dating Oscar so she kind of ghosts him for a bit and they figure things out
𝐛𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐢 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐰/𝐨𝐩𝟖𝟏
📖𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆: oscar really just wants to hear you laugh again.
📖𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴: 18+ only. angst. fluff. happy ending. reader is exhausted physically and mentally. reader's internal monologue is not not nice. bad eating habits. bad sleeping habit. self-deprecation. don't worry she's back on her bs at the end. reader neglects herself (?) and her relationship. implied self-sabotage. people are mean. don't worry oscar is meaner. oscar piastri is a good boyfriend. emotional hurt/comfort. tenderness. intimacy. baths and pampering. crying (non-sexy). implied sex. implied bath sex. logan and lando as plot devices. no beta we die like my will to live during finals.
📖𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗱 𝗰𝗼𝘂𝗻𝘁: 5.1k words.
📖𝗽𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴: oscar piastri x fem!reader
📖𝗴𝗲𝗻𝗿𝗲: oneshot w/ blurbs.
📖𝘀𝗼𝘂𝗻𝗱𝘁𝗿𝗮𝗰𝗸: best i ever had • drake
𝗽𝗿𝗲𝗳𝗮𝗰𝗲: sorry it took me so long, i've changed this fic like multiple times :/ hope it fulfills you request properly :))) this is not my favorite thing in the world, i feel like if i went on a smaller scale i would've enjoyed this more but what can you do. this is also not very black reader coded? idk but feel like it's lacking there. i also apologize for my inability to write an oscar fic without including lando, he's such a willing plot device though even if he's a little ooc. i also couldn't find the mental space to write smut but there's smth for you at the end. dedicated to us women in stem! i hope you have fun reading this because i didn't have fun writing it :)
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oscar is worried. you haven’t responded to his texts for a week, he hasn’t seen your face for two weeks, and he hasn’t heard your voice for three weeks. four weeks ago, you told him you wouldn’t be able to fly out to see him at the austin grand prix, like you promised. you sounded exhausted and incredibly guilty when you explained that your course load this semester is extreme, and finals are rapidly approaching. oscar understood; he won’t ask you to sacrifice your education for one of his races, there will be plenty you can come to in the future. what he doesn’t understand is how you’re still functioning. it’s your senior year of university at an american ivy league school, you're pursuing an engineering degree, and you’re also working nearly five days a week as a barista. oscar thinks the last time he’s seen you relaxed is before your fall semester started, you spent your entire summer break with him, making appearances at the only three races you’ve been to this season (silverstone, hungary, and spa). the last time he recalls seeing your smile and hearing your laugh is in august—it’s the end of october now.
you’ve been ghosting him. oscar wants to believe that it’s unintentional, that it’s just a side effect of the amount of work and pressure on your shoulders—but he can’t accept that. if you were unintentionally missing his calls, facetimes, and texts, you’d spam respond to all of them with a voice message or paragraphs of texts before you went to bed or class. you would send him daily or weekly recap videos of how life is treating you, like you used to do. you would send him stupid videos of you messing around on your shifts during a pause of customers. you would send him thirty reels a day on instagram of brain dead shenanigans with little captions of how you reacted, or if you thought it would make him smile. you would send him fit checks every morning before you went to class, even though your outfit consists of a hoodie and sweatpants. you would send him tiktok edits of himself and tell him that he needs to stop being ‘so hot’ because you almost barked in the middle of class. you would ask him how he’s doing, you would respond to his texts the minute you could even if it's hours late, you would leave him voicemails if he doesn’t pick up, you would make an attempt to communicate.
except, you haven’t. so, he knows that you ignoring him is intentional, and that your lifestyle right now makes it easier for you to disguise your avoidance of him as accidental.
you didn’t say ‘i love you’ back.
“mate, what are you frowning for?” oscar jumps, eyes flying up from the phone screen and meeting lando’s. the brit is staring at him in confusion, the two of them are still in their race suits, tied around their waists. the sprint race ended an hour ago, and they’ve just finished celebrating oscar’s win.
“you’ve won a race, oscar—what could possibly make you sad after that?” lando says teasingly. but, the smile on his face is quick to fade as he must see oscar’s dejected mood.
the australian debates his next move for a moment, before deciding that telling lando isn’t a bad idea; they’ve been getting closer—they’re friends, oscar would say. he sighs, and hands his phone to lando, maybe he’ll tell oscar he’s worrying over nothing.
“oh,” lando says, eyes widening, “i’m sorry, mate.”
oscar brushes off lando’s words, and buries his face in his hands, “she’s pulling away from me. that was five days ago, and she hasn’t answered any of my calls. she’s only responded to my texts since then with one word answers or very dryly. she’s ghosting me.”
oscar feels lando fumbling for words, not needing to look at him to know that the older man has no idea how to go about reassuring oscar.
“look, mate, if it were me i’d go see her anyways.”
oscar huffs, “she literally said she doesn’t have time.”
“oscar,” lando stares at him in disbelief, “she hasn’t seen you in two months. i guarantee she’s probably dying to see you again, fuck whatever time she doesn’t have. she also can’t ghost you, if you see her face to face. you should go and try to fix whatever’s wrong, before you let her slip away.”
“maybe…maybe she’s just burnt out,” oscar suggests shakily, “i’ll go see her after the triple header–i’m probably just overreacting about this. she’ll be back to her usual self in time.”
oscar is enraged. he’s pissed off at his fans for attacking you in a sick twist of ‘defending him,’ ‘protecting him’ and the supposed ‘ownership’ they think they have over him. he’s pissed off at you deciding to ghost him instead of confiding in him about the hate you receive. he’s pissed off that his flight to you has been delayed for four hours. he’s pissed off at his race in brazil, if you can even call what happened a race. he’s pissed off at the fact that you can’t make time to see him before vegas. he’s pissed off that you lied to him about picking up extra shifts at the cafe.
he stalked through your instagram the minute after he was allowed to escape debrief, hunting down your roomates accounts from where you’ve tagged them in an older post. he innocently made a group message to the two girls, figuring it would be kind and proper to inform them of his impending arrival to surprise you. and the two girls you shared an apartment with responded eagerly to his message telling him that you’ve been extremely stressed and almost depressed this semester, and that hopefully his appearance will break through to you in a way they are unable to. oscar asked them if they knew your work schedule for the week, since you never told him when you're working–and learned that you lied. you didn’t accept any extra shifts, matter of fact, you got all of your shifts covered for the next two weeks. apparently, all you have been doing is going to class, working, studying furiously, and crying. when he asks if there’s any reason besides the stress from work and school that has you crying, the girls decline to speak for you, and strongly suggest that he asks you himself when he arrives.
oscar’s no longer pissed at you for lying to him or for ghosting him–he’s hurt, but, he already understands your motive. you don’t want to worry him, so you bottle it up and distance yourself to not make him aware of how you're struggling. he won’t let you carry the weight of the world on your shoulders alone anymore, he’s going to see you and he’s going to take care of you, and then he’ll sort out the ignorant people on the internet.
when he’s at your apartment, you’ll be coming home from your last shift before your time off. and then, once he has you in his arms, he can make everything right again.
your hands are shaking; a result from the mix of stress and exhaustion that has been plaguing you for a few weeks. it takes you four and a half attempts to unlock the front door to your apartment—this is an improvement, yesterday it took you six times. a trembling sigh of relief exits your lungs as you shut the front door, triple checking that you lock the door properly. you remove all of your outerwear and slip out of your shoes, half-heartedly making an attempt to neatly place them in the organizer you have by the door. (you fail to register how there’s only two pairs of shoes stored away; yours and a pair of shoes that look too big to be one of the girls you live with—the usual sneakers the girls wear are nowhere to be seen.) you grunt as you tenderly put on your backpack and slowly make your way into the kitchen, off-handedly murmuring a “hi,” in the direction of the living room since you can hear the tv playing, but you don’t even spare a glance to see which roommate it is—you can’t stomach anymore human interaction today.
your walk is more of a waddle; your legs and feet are sore from working nine-hour shifts five days in a row, and also from going to class four out of those five days. you place your backpack on the small island, and continue to gently meander towards the fridge. your stomach aches at the thought of food—which is unfortunate, considering you’ve only had one meal today. regardless, you will shove a sandwich down your throat, you need the energy if you’re going to study for three hours before you go to bed.
you pause before you open the fridge, a note is stuck on the door with a magnet. your roommates are gone; the two girls have spontaneously decided to go spend the weekend with their boyfriends—you’re not going to complain, you have the apartment to yourself. a brief wave of loneliness washes over you, you were kind of looking forward to venting about the week you had to the girls in the morning, and also, couldn’t they have texted you this earlier today? who leaves old-fashioned notes on the fridge anymore? you pull out your phone to send a text in your group chat wishing them a nice weekend, and see that they did, in fact, text you that they would be gone—three days ago. and, you never responded, because you never saw it. you shrug, and send the text anyways, you’ve been incredibly busy and you’re bound to miss a few texts (especially the eighteen texts from oscar that remain unopened).
you're just going through a little bit of a slump, and you’ve had a bad day. you accidentally messed up three orders today (out of the hundred you fulfilled, so three isn’t really terrible), your running off of four hours of sleep (you’re more energized when you sleep less, anyways), and a customer accidentally bumped into you as you were walking to bring coffee to a table, causing the hot liquid to spill and burn a little spot on the back of your hand by your thumb. well, you know it wasn’t purely accidental, as the girl giggled to the group of friends she was with after she “bumped” into you. based on the way she was wearing a mclaren hoodie, you can make several guesses as to why she did it—you’re kind of shocked that she noticed you even though you wear a mask at work (you have for about a month, too many fans have noticed who you are), her hate for a relationship that’s not hers should be studied for science.
incidents like these have made your coworkers start to…dislike you. the decrease in tips when you’re assigned to the register causes you to be forced to be hidden behind coffee machines the entire shift, only making drinks the entire nine hours you’re there. it’s better for you though, at least you can have a physical barrier blocking the prying eyes you feel are judging you the entire time. if anything, the recent atmosphere at work made you want to put in your two weeks—but, you have bills to pay. you’re just glad you managed to find a way to get two weeks off so you can focus on school and prepare for your exams—you can’t afford to fail, it’ll cost your scholarship and then you’ll need more than the job you have right now to finish school.
the buzzing of your phone pulls you back to the present—oscar’s calling. you squeeze your eyes shut for a few seconds, before you blink and silence the ringer. if you speak to him, you won’t be able to hide your troubles from him any longer; he reads you as easily as a kid’s picture book. he definitely doesn’t need to deal with your problems after whatever the hell happened in brazil. the noise of your phone startled you into a new thought, however. if the girls aren’t in the apartment, why the fuck is the tv on? who did you greet when you walked past the main room without a glance?
“i was calling to tell you that i’ve got takeout from the asian restaurant you like, if you’re looking for something to eat,” oscar says gently.
it’s a testament to how extremely exhausted you are: you don’t scream, you don’t fight, you don’t run—you just flinch slightly, and turn around slowly to face your boyfriend…the man you’ve been avoiding for nearly a month. at the sight of him (his fluffy hair, his soft sweater, the confused and concerned glint in his eyes) your lip starts quivering, and your eyes start watering. oscar’s gaze softens into something sweet yet empathic, and he says, “i know it’s been a while since we’ve last talked, but i didn’t think you’d cry at the sight of me.”
you burst into tears with a sob, and in a second oscar’s got you wrapped up in his arms, one hand soothingly massaging your back, while the other cradles your head on his shoulder. your borderline hyperventilating, your tears have started to soak his sweater, and you’re sniffling every two seconds to avoid getting snot on him too. oscar doesn’t try to quiet your tears, he doesn’t ask about what’s making you cry, he doesn’t even try to tell you that everything will be fine—he just holds you as you cry it out and presses kisses into your hair. eventually, the flow of tears dries and you focus on pulling in shaky breaths of air to calm down. oscar switches to holding you to his chest with one arm while he uses the free one to reach across the counter and grab a tissue. wordlessly, he wipes the wetness off your cheeks and under-eyes, he even uses another tissue to wipe your nose, clearing away the snot that managed to escape. you almost start crying again at the tender treatment and the matching look in his eyes, but you muster enough strength to keep the happy tears from falling over the waterline.
oscar nods once, deeming his cleanup complete, and clears his throat, “i’m going to heat up the food. then, we’ll eat and you’ll tell me what’s wrong and if that has anything to do with why you’re ignoring me.”
there’s no attempt from you to keep the façade up any longer, all you do is nod and step to the side so he can grab the food from the fridge.
oscar has already cleared his plate and you’re still picking through half of yours. the two of you are sitting on opposite ends of the couch, teen wolf is playing on a low volume, and your eyes are tunneled on the screen even though oscar can see that you’re not paying attention at all. one of the characters is screaming about having to get his arm cut off (stiles, probably) and suddenly you start talking to oscar.
“it’s been a shit semester. if i wasn’t graduating in spring, i honestly think i would’ve dropped out or taken a gap-year. and, i knew what i signed up for as an engineering major, and i knew that working was only going to add more on my plate—but, it’s not like i can quit my job, i have bills to pay. so, juggling school and work is difficult, and i was managing fine. but, i guess i made the mistake of scrolling through twitter—which is truly my fault i think—and everyone on the internet was calling me a ‘terrible girlfriend’,” oscar watches you scoff out a choked laugh, “and, i obviously didn’t believe i was. in the beginning, at least. i mean, it’s like they expected me to be at every race by your side, like i’m not working my way through a hellscape of a degree. i watched every practice session, qualifying, and race—they’re literally the only hours i don’t spend studying or working. i brag about you to everybody who would listen, i missed hours of sleep just to speak to you on the phone for five minutes, i work as hard as i can so i can finish this degree early so i can be with you as early as possible, and they say that you deserve a better girlfriend.”
you pause and rub at your eyes furiously, mouth opening and closing as you take time to find the words to continue. oscar quiets the flare of anger at your distress, and stays silent, not wanting to interrupt your speech, this is the most you’ve said to him in a month.
“the thing is: i-i i let their words get to me. i think it’s because i was being kicked while i was down—or whatever the phrase is. i was already mentally exhausted, and i already believe that i’m not doing my best this year, i’m disappointing everybody who knows me, i’m a shit student—and just seeing everybody agree, even though they’re just randoms on the internet, tore me down. i even deleted all of the apps off my phone,” your voice has shifted into something desperate, “so i couldn’t see what they were saying about me anymore, but it’s like once i saw it, it never left my mind. i feel like everybody is staring at me with condescending eyes, like they all think i’m terrible. and, logically, i know that’s probably not true. but, this semester has pushed me past the point of being able to rationalize properly. so as a result, i have become a ‘terrible girlfriend’ to you; like a twisted self-fulfilling prophecy.
“i avoid your calls, i leave you on delivered for days, i respond with one word, i lie to my friends and say i was up all night talking to you on the phone when i was really crying and studying at the same time, i hold back from bursting into tears in the middle of my shifts when one of your ‘fangirls’ spills their drink over me for the third time. and while doing all of this, i was hoping you’d do the hard part and just break up with me,” your voice rings out sharply and you refuse to look at your boyfriend, afraid to see the look on his face.
“because…” you whimper slightly, tongue flicking out to lick at your lips anxiously, “you do deserve a better girlfriend.”
oscar is lost for words at your conclusion; seeing you, one of the strongest women he knows break down, is a sight he never imagined. a sense of guilt builds within him, knowing that he’s added to the deprecating thoughts in your brain by postponing this intervention for weeks. you may think that he deserves someone better, but he hasn’t been the best to you either recently. if oscar was half the man you think he is, he would’ve never allowed you to avoid him in the first place. oscar stands up, collects your plate and his, and places them on the coffee table. he turns and drops to his knees in front of you, resting his hands on your thighs, and squeezes them gently to grab your attention. it takes a minute, but eventually you allow your eyes to fall to meet his, and oscar breaks further at the lack of light in your eyes.
“i think,” oscar starts quietly, “that you expect me to break up with you and leave—am i guessing correctly?”
you blink down at him and shrug, biting your lip to prevent it from quivering.
“i also think, that if i flew all this way to see you, and that if i listened to your heartbreaking recollection of how this semester and how the world has been incredibly unkind to you, and that if i sat here and still broke up you—it’s not me that deserves a better girlfriend; it’s you that deserves a better boyfriend.”
stunned, you stumble over your disagreement, but oscar steadfastly continues.
“you did the right thing by deleting your socials—and that would explain why all three hundred of the reels i’ve sent you have gone unseen,” he laughs lightly, “and even if their words took root, you prevented yourself from being able to see more of it every time you used your phone; so even if my pride is not needed, i am proud of you for doing that. i’m even more proud that you sat here and told me that you aren’t doing well, that you didn’t make an attempt to lie, and that i didn’t have to force you to tell me,” oscar says seriously, holding steady eye contact with you to make sure you're hearing him.
“i wish that you would have mentioned the hate you’re receiving as soon as it started, and that you would have told me your mental health was suffering too. you know i do everything in my power to avoid reading anything with my name in it unless it’s a credible article—so imagine my surprise, when i learned about what people were saying about you through a twitter thread logan, of all people texted me about,” you snort out a laugh at the feigned disdain in oscar’s voice when he mentions the american driver.
“you know i have no issues embarrassing people on the internet for their incorrect claims—and i’d especially tear them to shreds for trying to drag you down. we’ve been together too long for you not to come to me about things like this, even if it’s something that mildly upsets you—i want to know, because then i can make it better, or i can at least try to. you haven’t complained to me about the grueling lifestyle once, as i worked my way up to f1; if anybody could be perfect, it would be you. so, let me try to be as perfect as you, and support you properly and thoroughly as you finish up this degree, baby.
“we’re soulmates, aren’t we?” it’s a question, but oscar states it like a fact, “and i know i can’t magically make the self-loathing disappear with one conversation, but i'll tell you that you’re the best girlfriend i’ve ever had countless times, until you believe me unquestionably.”
oscar watches your nose scrunch cutely as you sniffle, unable to stop the tears that leak from the corners of your eyes. sweetly, he catches them with his thumb before they fall. he stands up and tugs you to your feet, pulling you into a tight, warm hug.
“i love you, kanga,” oscar coos as he kisses your forehead.
“i love you the most, roo,” you answer back, leaning up to press a kiss to the corner of his lips.
“i’ve bought some lavender epsom salt and an embarrassing amount of bath bombs. will you let me take care of you tonight?” oscar asks quietly.
he sees the mix of awed-disbelief and confusion as you stare up at him, like you can’t imagine why he’d want to love you tenderly tonight, and that hurts him more—the words of his ‘fans’ online have done enough damage to cause you to doubt him. maybe he can convince you to come to vegas with him so he can keep you close, but first, he needs to focus on caring for you here and now.
oscar grabs his duffle bag and smiles as you hold his hand to lead him to your room and the attached bathroom (rent is ridiculously expensive, but at least you don’t have to share a bathroom with your roommates.) oscar sends you to grab pajamas while he starts filling the tub, epsom salt already poured in. he fiddles with the temperature for a while before it’s set to the boiling-your-skin-off hot you enjoy. by the time you join him in the bathroom, he’s added the salts and soap in the water and has placed the bath bombs out for you to choose one. oscar can’t help the small smile that rises to his face at the sight of the serious furrow of your brow as you pick out your favorite from the bunch.
oscar hums as you hand him the jade-infused bath bomb, and asks, “can i wash your hair too? or will it mess up your schedule?”
“i actually really need to wash it,” you murmur with a humorless chuckle, “i’ve been so busy that i haven’t been taking care of my hair properly.”
oscar blinks and continues non-judgmentally, “i’ll give you an extra scalp massage to make up for that—you can start getting undressed now, the water’s nearly ready.”
he turns around awkwardly, he’s seen you naked before but he feels like it would be slightly perverse to watch you while you’re clearly in a more sensitive state tonight. he fumbles with the faucet for a few seconds before turning it off, and drops the bath bomb into the water so it can start dispersing. oscar faces you again carefully making sure he avoids staring at your body and locks eyes with you, he beckons you forward with an outstretched hand and holds your hand as you submerge yourself in the water. once you’re settled comfortably, oscar grabs your hair products (he holds up any bottle he thinks you may not want to use tonight, and you give him a thumbs up or down to decide), and then kneels at your side.
he starts to roll up the sleeves of the hoodie but your hand halts his motions, the water splashing loudly at the quickness of your movement, “you’re not getting in with me?”
“uh,” oscar stutters, “i-i wasn’t planning on it. i just wanted to give you a nice bath.”
oscar pinkens as you stare at him wordlessly and when your unimpressed gaze shifts to a slight glare, he finds himself shedding his clothes and sinking in behind you at an impressive speed.
his heart began to race as the two of you shifted into as comfortable of a position you could achieve in a too-small tub, but calmed at your pleased hum as you settled between his legs with your back resting on his chest. this may be the most romantic experience oscar has ever indulged in. sure, it’s not a candlelit dinner at an obnoxiously expensive restaurant but, it’s him detangling your hair, it’s him massaging shampoo into your crown, it’s him scratching softly along your scalp as the deep conditioner sits, it’s you playing with the water innocently, it’s you whispering every detail of your life that he’s missed out on, it’s you gently directing him through braiding your hair, and it’s him pressing kisses to your shoulder when he finishes. there isn’t a single moment where the two of you become unsettled during lapses of silence; the intimacy of his actions is loud enough to fill the gaps. oscar can’t imagine ever being this comfortable with anybody besides you, he hates that he almost allowed you to pull completely away from him. moments like these, where you allow yourself to be thoughtlessly vulnerable with him, are exactly why he’s completely enamored with you.
your body has loosened against him, muscles syrupy and lax from the effects of a toe-curling scalp massage, and oscar gently guides you to sit upright while steadying most of your weight with a single hand splayed against your abdomen. the sound of the cap of your body wash clicking open startles you into the present, and you shift around to straddle his lap. it’s amusing; he inaudibly chuckles at the sight of you struggling to complete your change of position without sending water over the edge. you make a triumphant noise when you’ve managed to turn around to face him, and oscar’s hands cradle your hips when you rest on his lap.
“can i–”
“shouldn’t you–”
oscar bursts into laughter and you into giggles, at the interruption of each other's sentences. it’s definitely not that funny, but oscar’s heart skips a beat at the sound of your laugh–he hasn’t heard that sweet noise in what feels like forever. he motions for you to speak, ever the gentleman, and eagerly awaits for our question with a smile still stretched across his lips.
“shouldn’t you fuck me before we wash up? so we don’t have to clean up twice?”
oscar chokes on his breath, his grip on you tightening in surprise, and he babbles, “what? no-i mean, yes, i mean—wait. i didn’t do all of this just to have sex with you, you know that right? i genuinely just wanted to pamper you–”
“oscar,” you cut him off, intentionally this time around, “after the semester i’ve had, and the less than kind words i’ve heard and thoughts i’ve had describing myself–i really do appreciate the bath, i feel reminded that you love me. however, i really think that having sex would help…solidify your devotion for me.”
oscar blinks up at you, he wasn’t quite expecting you to return to your normal sassy behavior as quickly as you did. but, he is thankful that you’ve opened up to him with no further hesitation–it’s actually incredibly attractive of you, how you’ve resumed complete comfortability in expressing exactly what you want to him. at least, that’s the excuse he’s telling himself to cope with being half-hard already.
“...at least let me take you to bed, then?”
“no,” you whine down at him, your hips sneakily twitching forward, oscar moans lightly at the light grind, “too far! saves time later if we don’t have to come back to shower.”
“you’re right,” oscar hums distractedly, moving his right hand off your waist to slip between your thighs and brush along your cunt, “i’ll fuck you here as long as you let me do all of the work.”
oscar’s blood heats at the sound of your whimpering moan and he takes his other hand off your waist to grab at your chin and he pulls you down for a kiss.
oscar groans when you pause before your lips touch his, and he feels the breath of your giggle ghost over his mouth, “mmm, i’ll never say no to that—and, didn’t i agree to let you take care of me tonight?”
taglist: @saintslewis @cherry2stems @lorarri @inloveallthetime @mindless-rock @biancathecool @barnestatic @my-ylenia @katekipshidze @darleneslane @lovingaphroditesworld @smoothopz
© httpsserene2023
#oscar piastri x reader#oscar piastri x female reader#oscar piastri x black!reader#oscar piastri x you#lando norris x reader#logan sergeant x reader#f1 x reader#f1 x female reader#f1 x black!reader#f1 x you#oscar piastri fic#oscar piastri fanfic#formula 1 fanfic#f1 imagine#f1 smut#oscar piastri smut#formula 1 x reader#f1 fluff#f1 fic#f1 fic rec#oscar piastri imagine#oscar piastri#formula 1 x black!reader#serene’s chapters.#⋆⭒˚｡⋆. series special: formula 1#♡ ༘*.ﾟ love interest: op.
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as if
AGELESS/BLANK/UNDER 18 BLOGS ARE NOT WELCOME TO INTERACT. PLEASE RESPECT MY RULES AND BOUNDARIES.
summary: eddie taunts reader daily, but… she kinda likes it? just never does anything about it. not until she has to tutor him, anyway.
pairing: bully!mean!perv!eddie munson x perv!fem reader
word count: 7,901 words
content/warnings: swearing, some angst at the beginning kinda, mention of death (barb), SMUT MDNI (y/n is 18), bully!eddie, mean!eddie, perv!eddie, bully kink (?), dominating, arguing, breeding kink, hate sex, brief masturbation mentions, mocking, teasing, anxiety kinda, spitting, invasion of privacy (eddie goes through her things), eddie’s a dirty lil pantie stealer and sniffer, y/n is a c*m sl*t, bulge kink(?), dacryphilia, groping, choking, daddy kink if you squint real hard, mentions of virginity (y/n is not a virgin), pet names (doll face, princess), degradation (use of slut). i think that’s all pls tell me if i miss anything!
a/n: i have to say tbh i don’t see eddie ever being a bully so this is technically like an au!eddie?…but also… uhhhh very hot. makes my brain wiggle with heat waves so here we are. hope you like it! <3
part two - part three
*
As if.
It’s a simple statement, really, and you meant no harm when you said it. It was just something to be said… that didn’t mean he didn’t hear it though.
That also didn’t mean it didn’t tick him off.
You were surprisingly pretty to be in the geek group, but in the cruel and tyrannical world of high school girls..? Alas, no amount of lip gloss or cute skirts could free you of the fact that you were smart. Not only smart, but a geek. A nerd—who was shy around most—and you got along with nearly all of the teachers because of how well-behaved and intelligent you were. And, on occasion—although you always tried your best to not come off this way—a bit of a know-it-all.
That was the final nail in your coffin, really. Correcting Carol Perkins in American History in front of everyone back in your freshman year. (Her sophomore year and already irritable about having to take a freshman course 2 years in a row). You meant well, but she had it out for you ever since. The tyrant, as it was, made it entirely impossible for you to make your way up the food chain.
So in your sophomore year of high school, back in Autumn of ‘83, you were among the peasants just like him—even as a senior (for the first time). He took a quiet interest in you. You were cute and soft-spoken. You were a sophomore, though, and the fact that you were 15 at the time made the 17 year old scrunch up his nose whenever he remembered. He could still look, though, right? There was no harm in that…
Nancy and Barb took notice of it all pretty quickly. The way that the senior would scan over your outfits everyday. The way that he might’ve smirked a little if you had to bend over to pick something up, simply staring at your behind rather than coming over to get your things for you. The pair would exchange glances that you were adorably unaware of, over his attention that you were also so endearingly oblivious to. One day, they finally burst over it in the hallway, and he overheard.
“I think a senior likes you.” Nancy teased, gripping her Geometry textbook to her chest.
“What?” You had let out a slight laugh, digging through you locker. “What makes you say that?”
“Oh my god, seriously?” Barb interjected. “Aren’t you supposed to be smart? Observant?”
You were all wide-eyed over that, pouty lips opening and then closing as you struggled to find your words before finally landing on a frustrated huff and a simple “Shut up.”
“He stares at you all the time.” Nancy pushed with a teasing smile.
“Like you can talk.” You teased, slamming your locker shut before resting your back against it. “Steve ‘The Hair’ Harrington is totally all over you.” You smirked at the way her face instantly heated up.
“I- He- It’s not like that.” She insisted, completely flustered. And while Barb agreed with you, she wasn’t interested in letting you direct the conversation elsewhere.
“Besides he’s just a Junior. The guy who likes you is a Senior.” Nancy tacked on.
“Like there’s really that big of a difference?” You raised a brow.
“There is.” Barb scoffs.
“Well then if it’s such a huge deal… can’t you just tell me who it is?”
“You seriously don’t know?” Barb questioned and the ginger-brunette pair tilted their heads while they looked at you with a sort of exasperated disbelief. You just gave them that wide eyed look again and shrugged your shoulders.
Barb broke first with a scoff and a bright smile. “Eddie Munson. He stares at you all the time.”
Eddie Munson. He wasn’t popular by any means, but he was still a Senior. He was still attractive to you, and could still make an underclassmen blush if he gave them any attention simply because he was older and a little dangerous. He just didn’t show any interest in any of the other younger students, just a little curiosity towards you.
“Eddie Munson?” You had laughed a little, which made him furrow his brows as he listened in just around the corner of the hall at his own locker. You were being dismissive out of nerves, not out of any sort of malicious intent, but that’s not how he took your tone. After all, he was a cynical man.
“As if.”
*
After that he was a bit bitter towards you. Then he was a little mean. And then he was just plain cruel. He was an asshole. He was a bully.
Since his interest being pointed out to you, you occasionally glanced over at him to see if he really was staring. But he either acted like you didn’t exist, or whenever his gaze did meet yours the corners of his lips turned down and his brow frowned with disgust before looking elsewhere.
When Barb went missing, you and Nancy were temporarily joined at the hip in your efforts to figure out what happened. Then one day Nancy went cold on you. Started making excuses and hardly speaking to you otherwise. You didn’t understand, finding yourself completely alone as you scattered “Missing Person” posters all over Hawkins.
You had no idea what happened with Barb at the time and still had no clue what happened with your friendship with Nance to this very day. Maybe the loss was too much. Maybe Nancy couldn’t handle the reminder of your perfect trio. She was always closer to Barb than you. Maybe Barb missing and then turning up dead made it too difficult for her to face you. Maybe she was all caught up in two guys being completely obsessed with her, which admittedly made you a little jealous.
Soon enough you seemed to be completely off one another’s radars. It made high school even lonelier for you. You eventually found some new friends in other corners of the “Smart Kids” lunch table, but it was never like it was with Nancy and Barb.
So by the time he started getting a little mean, there wasn’t really anyone to protect you. Your new friends were skittish around the metalhead. Nance and Barb would’ve stood up for you once, but that support system was obliterated back in ‘83.
So when he shoved past you in the halls later in your sophomore year, no one gave it any thought. When he was pulling your hair in your Junior year then acting all innocent when you turned around to confront him, still no one cared. Now in your Senior year—and him in his third—whenever you thought he couldn’t be worse, he proved you wrong and did so with a devilish grin.
He pulled your hair. He tripped you. He stood behind you in line at lunch and would flip up the back of your skirt. He smacked your books out of your hands. He openly mocked you while leaning back in his chair at lunch with that smug look on his face. He mimicked your contributions in class under his breath, knowing you’d hear him and trip over your words. He snuck filthy messages into your locker that made your face burn with embarrassment and disgust—disgust for him and for the way his perverted words made your thighs press together. He would speed up whenever you were walking or biking home just to scare the shit out of you. He would take any opportunity to shove you or throw things at you or press his body up against yours in a derisive and vulgar manner—especially in gym class. He would “playfully” hump you from behind and nearly knock you over whenever you bent over and there was no teacher paying attention. Or spank you. Or pinch your ass.
He was horrible. Disgusting. Obnoxious. Crude. Vile. He made you go home with tears in your eyes most days, but the worst part was how much you liked the attention. You hated yourself for it. You wished you were running to the nearest adult to tell them every last thing he did to you. You wished you were standing up to him and calling him a disgusting pig in front of everyone which surely would’ve pulled out some “Ooo”s and maybe even some of the Seniors that hated him would’ve joined in. Maybe even had your back, even if it was temporary.
But you didn’t because by now when he pulled your hair, you had to refrain from whimpering or moaning. When he tripped you, you thought of the things he could do to you now you were already on your hands and knees. When he flipped up your skirt you always gasped and shoved him away, secretly hoping he’d do it again—even starting to wear only your cutest pairs of panties to school. When he smacked your books out of your hands, you actually liked that it was him causing you to bend over or get on your knees to collect your things again. When he decided to mock you from over at his spot at lunch, you got butterflies from the way he said your name and the way his dimples sunk into his cheeks. When he mimicked you in class, you tripped over your words because his voice and tangible presence got you all flustered and hot. When you got to your locker, you secretly hoped to see the torn off corner of some notebook page flutter onto the floor with the most obscene words. When he sped up to scare you, you thought about screaming something so bold at him that he would screech to a halt and reverse before telling you to get in his van, now.
You liked when he threw things at you like balled up paper to your cheek in class or a basketball to your side in gym. You liked when he shoved you or pressed against you because in his attempts to intimidate you with his touch and his proximity, it made your knees weak. You liked how he pinched your ass or gave it a little smack when you bent over and your teacher wasn’t looking. And you loved when he would thrust up against you whenever you were bent over and there was no teacher around at all, because his bulge pressed up against you (even while he was laughing devilishly) made you ache.
He was so utterly horrible to you, and yet when you found yourself grinding on your hand at night on top of your pink, white and yellow quilt—you were thinking about him and how mean he was. You were thinking about how mean he would be as he fucked you. Taunting you and teasing you and mocking you. You spasmed around your fingers and choked down your cries at the thought of him bullying your cunt.
It was all a fantasy, though. He never interacted with you longer than a few seconds, and was always with him in control. If you walked up to him and told him you wanted him to fuck you like the bully he was, he probably would’ve died laughing right before your eyes and told everyone he knew about your embarrassing lust for the guy who made your life a living hell. But now you were being cornered into spending time with him, and being faced with a real-life scenario where you were together made your palms sweat.
“I know he’s a difficult young man, but if you tutor him I’ll figure something out with the principal. Some sort of extra credit maybe.”
“There’s no one else that could tutor him?” You choked out, nerves on edge. Ms. O’Donnell gave you a sympathetic smile and shook her head.
“All busy.”
Busy, my ass you wanted to huff out. They were probably all avoiding him like the plague. O’Donnell was desperate to get his grade up and get him out of the damn school, which you didn’t blame her for, but god… why you?
“Okay…” You relented, a sad twitch for a smile when she sighed in relief and thanked you incessantly.
“I’ve already spoken to him about needing a tutor, I’ll let him know the good news, okay?”
You nodded with a meek “okay,” and tried to go on with the rest of your day as if you weren’t wracked with fear, excitement, concern over your excitement. You were on edge all day, and nearly jumped out of you seat when you were called to the office over the speakers about 5 minutes to the end of your last class. You swallowed anxiously, collecting your things and trying to ignore the “ooo”s over you being summoned to the principal’s office—assuming you were in trouble.
You trudged towards your destination, pausing when you spotted him slack in one of the chairs by the front desk that he frequented more than anyone else. You considered running in the opposite direction and making up some lie to Ms. O’Donnell the next day, but then Mrs. White beamed at you after happening to glance away from her clunky typewriter.
“Miss Y/L/N! Come on in, dear.” She spoke cheerfully in a way that went through you sideways. Eddie’s eyes shot up to you, smirking around the fingernail he was chewing at and clearly considering spitting it at you if Mrs. White hadn’t been paying attention. You toyed with the ends of your sleeves anxiously, listening to Mrs. White discuss the details Ms. O’Donnell had ready. What topics to go over (which was just about everything). How many times per week she wanted you to tutor him (at least once/week). The only thing left out was when and where.
“Oh that’s up to you two, hon.” She chirped. “Just compare your schedules.”
“It’s not in school? With a teacher around?” You questioned anxiously, but she was oblivious to your worries.
“Nope, no need for supervision. We like to give the tutors space from the teachers while they work with others, we find that the students that need help take to that better.”
“Sure do.” Eddie spoke up, and you nearly flinched at how close he sounded. You glanced over and he must’ve just gotten out of the hard plastic chair cause he was slightly leaned back to give his body a stretch causing his chest to puff out a little, his hands moving to rest by his hips as he tugged his jeans up.
“What? Scared of me ‘r somethin’?” He whispered playfully, a hand moving up to rest over his heart as he feigned offense before his act melted away to show his usual smirk. He winked at you, and you swallowed nervously as you looked back at Mrs. White again who was blissfully unaware of his malevolence.
“So here you go… those worksheets and… a time sheet.” The woman grinned as she placed the last paper on top before sliding everything over. “You just have to add the dates that you study together, and you both have to sign each time. Ms. O’Donnell said writing a quick synopsis of what you went over would be nice too, but not necessary. The most important thing is seeing a difference in Mr. Munson’s grades.”
“Sounds good to me, Pam.” Eddie smiled at Mrs. White whose sunny demeanor sunk into a more serious expression while you put the papers away neatly in one of your folders.
“What have we talked about, Mr. Munson? Use my first name again and you’ll find your butt in detention this Saturday for such disrespect. Again.”
He puts his hands up as if apologizing for his actions, but he was still grinning ear to ear. Mrs. White eyed him with a tight lipped scowl, then looked at you.
“Good luck.”
You were gonna need it.
*
The ride to your house in his rusty van was surprisingly quiet beyond his music. You were on edge which he enjoyed like always, but he was clearly saving the torment for when he was inside your home. You wished your parents were home, even if they were tucked away in another room, but they were both gone for the weekend to attend your Aunt’s wedding. Not that you’d let him know that.
“We’ll be studying in the dining room. And no funny business. My dad’s in his office and he doesn’t like being disturbed while he’s working.” You lied seamlessly, making your way over to the dining table, Eddie lazily sauntering along.
“Oo does daddy have a temper?” He teased in a whisper. “Gonna come out and spank you if you bother him too much?”
He gave you a mocking pout and your face scrunched up with irritation.
“Just sit so we can get this over with.”
“I’m sorry are you under the false impression that you’re in charge here, doll face?” He questioned, keeping his anger mostly disguised by his inquisitive tone.
“Well, I’m the tutor so-“ You scoff out, avoiding looking at him as you pulled all of your study materials from your bag.
“Yeah and that means something to me because…?” He drew out his last word as he spun on his heels and casually walked away.
“I- what-“ You sputtered. “What are you doing?”
“You know it’s awfully rude to have a guest and not give them a tour of the place.” He spoke casually, grabbing the ends of picture frames hanging on the walls to get a better look at them before letting them drop back again. You were hot on his heels, fixing every frame he left crooked. He paused at a picture of you from camp in a bikini with some of the friends you made that summer, smug and sucking at his teeth a little as he eyed the image of you.
“Real cute…still got it?” He looked over at you, his hair shifting over his shoulder as he eyed you. “Wanna model it for me? Make all this worth my while?”
Your cheeks were starting to turn pink.
“We have to study.”
“Eh.” He shrugs, and looks over to spot the staircase behind him. He slunk around the corner and made his way up the carpeted steps.
“Hey- hey! You’re not allowed up there!” You shout after him, rushing to follow after him. He was already on the second floor when he turned and shushed you.
“Don’t wanna make daddy angry, right? He’s hard at work if I’m remembering correctly.” He whispered with a joking concern for your father’s focus who wasn’t even here, and you worried he knew that. He continued on along the hallway and you stayed behind him, wishing there was something you could do to get him to stop. He opened doors along the way, inspecting the interior with a mild curiosity. The upstairs bathroom. Your parent’s room. The spare bedroom. Then-
“Ah, here we are.” Your bedroom at the end of the hall.
“Please get out of my room.” You pleaded, but he continued on his quest. He looked at the makeup on your vanity, toppling some of the products over like a careless cat before moving on. He toyed with any photos in your room, sniffed at the perfume bottles on your dresser.
“Eddie-“ You started, clenching your jaw as he found the perfume you wore the most often and sprayed some of it on the crotch of his jeans. Then he just kept a hold on it as he waltzed around your room, spraying it several times just to waste your favorite product.
“That’s rude.” You spoke up, your lips pouting slightly. He snickered at your comment, how you sounded like a wronged child.
“Aw well if you need to touch up your perfume at all, you know where to get it.” He grinned, pointing to his groin before continuing to go through your things. The concept was strange but still made you clench simply from the thought of having to rub at his bulge to get something you wanted. He didn’t waste that much of your fragrance, but the idea was still burning in your mind.
He muttered disapproving comments at the posters on your walls and the cassettes he rummaged through until he got bored. You were nervous about interfering even as he invaded your privacy, until he was opening your top drawer to go through your panties and bras.
“Hey! That’s too far!” You gasp, rushing over to slam the drawer closed again. He shoved you back and opened it again.
“Quit being so fucking uptight.”
“Quit going through things that don’t belong to you!” You talked back which was still surprising him every time you did, but certainly didn’t let it show.
“Yeah well quit pissing me off before I put you in your fucking place.” He seethes, giving you an angry warning look that felt like fire all over you. You wanted to cry, to tell him to stop being so mean to you, but it would be useless. You’d just end up feeling pathetic as he laughed over your misery. You just had to stand there and watch as he kept going through your underwear drawer.
“Ooh, cute. I don’t think I’ve seen these yet.” He clicked his tongue and blew out an impressed breath as he held up a black lacy number. “‘d love to leave some stains on these for you, doll face.”
“You’re disgusting.” You blurt out, but the thought of his cum spurting onto your new pair of panties made you feel warm. He smirked at your frustration, tucking the underwear into his pocket.
“Those are new!”
He shrugs, shoving the drawer closed again with enough careless force to knock over a picture frame perched on top. He doesn’t seem to care until he’s spinning around with his finger pointed at you and that wicked look on his face.
“You know what, though? You bring up a great point.” He tugs the lace from his pocket and holds it up to his nose before letting out a disappointed sigh. “Now that’s a problem. Still smell like whatever cutesy store you got ‘em from.”
You have a moment of hope that he’s trying to be nice and provide an opportunity to give them back to you, even if he’s going about it in a dirty way. But that doesn’t last long, even when he’s tossing them back to you.
“Why don’t you put ‘m on for me, huh? Then when you give ‘em to me on my way out I’ll have proof of how fucking wet I get you.” He spoke so smoothly as he got closer to you, that it almost blanketed the filth of his words as something soft or even sweet.
“As if.” You scoff out in a huff, and there’s a fury to his gaze that you don’t understand.
“Yeah… as if.” He murmurs darkly, getting closer to you. You swallow nervously and take a step back. “Cause fuck me, right? I’m just some good-for-nothing asshole who you wouldn’t give the time of day. Not a priss like you.”
“I-I’m not a-“
“Oh dad!” He’s suddenly shouting at the top of his lungs in a sing-song manner, his body whipped around to face your doorway, and your eyes go wide.
“Stop-“
“Hey! I just wanna meet Mr. Y/L/N! Spending time with your lovely daughter!” He spoke with a passionate respect that you knew was coming from a hateful place. He had gone to your doorframe and was listening for any kind of response. A verbal acknowledgement. The sound of steps or creaking floorboards to tell him there was actually going to be someone to confront him.
His grin became devious as he went to the steps again. “Hello?” He calls, dragging out that last vowel.
“Will you quit it!” You hiss, tears prickling at your eyes now at the thought of him realizing you were all alone. Just you and him. And that you had lied to him.
He was turning around, sure now that the only people in this house were you and him. His dimples were pushing into his cheeks again as he sucked at his teeth, approaching you at the doorway to your bedroom like a cocky killer. The kind that you saw in horror movies that knew they had their prey cornered and could have some fun with it.
Out of nerves and a need to keep a barrier between the two of you, you took a quick step back and went to slam your door shut so you could lock it, but he got there in time to stop in with an outstretched arm. He pushed it open so harshly that you were sure there would be a dent in your wall where the doorknob was forced into it.
God, you couldn’t stand the way he looked right now. So proud. So smug. That shit-eating grin that told you he knew he was winning. That fury from before still lingering. He noticed the gloss to your eyes and tuts as a mocking pout reaches his lips.
“Upset about somethin’, doll? Someone got you all worked up?”
You huff out your nose, your lips screwed into a frown and your eyes still stinging with unshed tears.
“You’re so… so… mean! I hate you!” You shout, and without even realizing it you had stomped your foot at your last statement. It makes him pause, his expression unreadable for a moment as he considers everything until it all lands on amusement. He crosses his arms over his chest, grin wild and his hair flowing with him as he tilts his head with intrigue.
“Did you just stomp your foot at me, princess?” He teases, and your face feels so hot you wonder if he can see the flush of pink even through your foundation. He can. You refuse to answer him, fighting back the urge to fully cry in front of him. He’s getting closer though until he’s brushing up against you and looking down at you. God, he’s so warm.
“Aw… such a sensitive girl. Look at you.” He murmurs as he continues backing you two up until you’re pressed against the wall, one of those posters he disapproved of crinkling against your hair. He’s making fun of you like always but there’s a softness around the edges of his words. Blurred by a desire to do just about anything to you. He reaches his hand up to drag the pad of his thumb over your pouty lower lip before bringing his hand down to grasp you by your chin.
“Bet your pussy’s just as responsive as the rest of ya, huh?” He whispers as he makes you look up at him. Your nostrils flare momentarily and you keep looking up at him but you still won’t speak and you still won’t let those tears fall.
“I bet your cunt is just as weepy. All hot and wet when I’m fucking you into shape.”
You bite the inside of your cheek to refrain from whimpering or letting your lips part for a soft sigh. Anything that would confirm how badly you want him to figure out just how right he is. But then his anger flares back up as he’s gripping your jaw now, squeezing just enough to make it uncomfortable.
“Speak when you’re spoken to.” He demands in a low voice with a sort of growl to it that makes your knees weak. You part your lips as you consider answering him like you’re told, and he raises his brows while waiting. Then, in a brazen defiance, you spit in his face instead.
He’s so solid it’s almost like he doesn’t care. Not a flinch or a crack in his demeanor. Then he’s moving his hand from your jaw to your throat and gripping onto it enough that you gasp.
“I’ve been spat on my whole fucking life, you think that’s gonna make a difference here, princess? Think that’s gonna make me respect you? Think you’re brave?”
Your hands reach up to rest over his on your neck, a mewl vibrating from the back of your throat. He leans in closer to your face, your lips parting wider as he tightens his grip.
“It just makes me think you’re stupid.” He finishes before spitting directly into your open mouth. He’s releasing you from his grip right after, wiping your saliva from his cheek while you catch your breath. A soft moan escapes you before you can keep it at bay and his inflated ego is tangible. He’s eyeing you with a sort of amazed intrigue that pulls him back to you, his arms lifting to place his hands on the wall on either side of your head.
“You like it, don’t you?” He laughs and you shake your head furiously, but he isn’t buying it. “You could’ve gotten my ass suspended—hell, even expelled—ages ago. And yet…?”
“I just felt bad that you’re such a fucking idiot.“
“Dirty girl.” He hisses inward through his teeth as if burned by your words, but you were just egging him on.
“Do you kiss your mother with that mouth?” He wondered in a soft tone, hand back to your jaw as you stayed quiet. “Will you kiss daddy with that mouth?” He added with a lazy grin, exuding dominance and arrogance.
You became a little slack jawed at the implication, and he was on you. Hand still on your jaw, he pressed his lips to yours. You feigned protest at first with a few kicks and smacks, but then he had your wrists pinned against the wall and you sunk into the kiss. He kept you pinned for a few moments, until he was sure you were relaxed. He dropped his hands down to completely engulf your waist in his arms, and keep you pressed against him. The kiss was filthy with anger-fueled lust and slips of moans on your end and grunts from his.
“I hate you.” You whispered in between kisses, his hands moving to grip your ass now.
“Yeah you do.” He chuckled proudly against your lips before beginning to trail his lips down your jaw to your neck. Your eyes fluttered closed, hands settled on his muscular back as he sucked and bit at your neck, messy hair tickling you. More sounds slipped from you with no attempt to hold them back, a teary whimper hanging on your lips after he bit down on your neck hard enough to pull a yelp from you.
“Gonna mark you all up…” He muttered against your skin, making your head swirl.
“Gonna have you walking into school and have everyone know who you belong to.” He pulled back now, breathless and his full lips all pink with attention. His eyes were dark with lust, and it all made you whimper. The sound made him laugh in disbelief.
“Yeah? Such a slut. Bet you can’t wait to walk in with my hickeys all over you. Might even fuck you in the back of my van beforehand. Make you go to class full of my cum.”
You almost can’t believe him or yourself as you nod your head dumbly with a desperate pout. He groans at the sight and pulls you to him again, his lips back on yours as his hands reach down to hook under your thighs and lift you up. You’re quick to wrap your legs around his waist, a soft cry escaping when he starts grinding against you. He’s so hard and feels so pressed into his jeans, you’re both afraid and alight at the thought of just how big he probably is.
Eddie made his way over towards your bed until his legs made contact with your bed frame. He pulled away from the kiss to drop you on the bed carelessly. You lifted your torso up by digging your elbows back into your mattress, legs bent up at the knee and parted for him while you watched him undo his belt. He noticed you staring, and his gaze traveled along your form. Your knit sweater. Your pleated skirt.
“Take that shit off.” He said with a slight jut of his chin in the direction of your top, hands paused at the waist of his jeans and boxers. You hesitated at first, mostly at his hesitation to pull down his bottoms, but also out of nerves that your body wouldn’t be good enough. He made fun of you for just about everything. Surely he would tease you for that too.
“Did I fucking stutter?” His voice rose just a touch, his expression showing his impatience. At that your eyes went a bit wide again, and you lifted your sweater over your head and then the t-shirt you had on underneath. His hand was under his undone jeans, palming himself through his boxers as he looked over your naked torso.
“Bra too.” He murmured, and your nerves subsided from the way he looked at you. It was all hunger and lust and some impatience, but that was common. But no mockery. He wasn’t gearing up to make fun of your body cause he’s been waiting to see it. It was even better than he imagined, and he stopped a groan in his throat when you unclasped your bra and put it off to the side.
“Fuck…” He sighed out, squeezing his hard cock in his fist. You arched your back, which he initially enjoyed, until he realized your hand was moving to unzip the back of your skirt.
“Hey.” His harsh tone broke through, his free hand slapping your thigh. “Did I say take the skirt off?”
Your lips parted, and he jerked his head forward with a wide, frustrated gaze. It was as if he was saying “Hello? Earth to Y/N?”
He rolled his eyes as you shook your head no, and moved your hands away. He muttered under his breath and settled himself between your legs before deciding you weren’t close enough. His hands grasped your thighs to pull you closer, a surprised giggle bubbling in your chest from the action. He didn’t acknowledge it because he was trying to not let it show that it made him want to smirk. Just like when you get all teary-eyed. Or stomp your feet. Or finally get enough nerve to talk back. Even getting a giggle out of you made him smug, despite the fact that he had only ever seemed to enjoy making you miserable.
Eddie flips your skirt up onto your stomach, licking his lips at the sight of the light blue cotton panties he had already seen in the lunch line today. He finally tugged his jeans and boxers down below his balls, and started pumping his dick in his hand. Your nerves lit up at the sight of it—thick and with a bit of a curve to it. You wanted to see more of him, but the likelihood of that was slim to none. He enjoyed the control he had in this relationship, and that meant he liked having you almost completely naked in front of him while he was practically still dressed. He smirked as pre-cum beaded up on his tip and let it drip onto the fabric of your underwear. He dipped down to drag his tip along your covered slit to make a mess of your panties with his pre-cum. You inhaled sharply at the feeling, biting the inside of your lip whenever he nudged your clit.
“I like these panties…” You complained, knowing how much better it would be for him to ruin a pair of underwear you love.
“Aw…” He tutted, leaning over you as he mimicked the pout on your lips. “Don’t tell me that cause then I might have to cum all over them. ‘N I thought you wanted it inside.”
You mewled again, nodding your head which he mimicked too. The little shake of your head, the sound you made.
“Such a whiny, needy girl.” He said as if he cared. He hooked a finger under your panties and tugged at them, fighting the fabric over your legs one handed before holding them up to his nose. His eyes were trained on the sight of your sopping pussy as he breathed in, his cock twitching in his fist. He cursed under his breath, only pulling the fisted cloth away to stuff into his back pocket. His now free hand moved forward to drag his fingers through your slit, proud to feel how soaked and puffy you were already.
“You a virgin, doll?” He purred, tilting his head with a sickeningly sweet grin, the curled corners of his lips devilish. It was saccharine and mean. He figured you’d say yes because no one at school seemed to want you, but then you shook your head.
You lost your virginity at that summer camp you were at in the picture he was ogling earlier. It was awkward and felt strange, and you didn’t have much experience beyond that, but you weren’t a virgin. You thought he’d like you better this way anyways, already ready for him to fuck, but it ticked him off.
“No?” He asked, pushing two thick fingers into your cunt and making you gasp. The pressure on that sweet spot right at your entrance was buzzing with pleasure, but it still ached a little. “Guess you’re the little slut I always thought you were, hm?”
He was pushing his fingers in deep and curling them up into that spongy spot that made you whine and your thighs tremble.
“Who is he?” Eddie urged, his expression back to the irritation you were familiar with. You weren’t answering, all of your focus on his thick fingers and the rings that adorned them pinching the edge of your entrance.
“Who. Is. He?” He repeated, moving his face a bit closer to yours in bursts with every word, his head tilting to the left then to the right then back to the left to punctuate his words. He was slowing it down for you like you were dumb, and his fingers stopped moving—all of this making you huff.
“No one-“ You whine hopelessly, and he was starting to pull his hand away but you shot yours out to grip his wrist and keep his fingers deep between your legs. “No one, no one important.” You continued. “It was at summer camp, he’s not even from here. Please-“ you nearly sobbed, and it was enough to make the man groan as he leaned over you.
“Oh… please what, doll face?” He murmured, hand that had just been wrapped around his dick sinking the mattress down beside your head.
“Please- please don’t stop.” You whimper softly and he smiles sweetly down at you while pulling his hand away anyways. It was just for a second, enough to make you want to cry, but then he was plunging them back into your fluttering hole again. He added a third finger, barely giving you even enough time to enjoy the first two, the stretch making your lips part a little.
“God, you’re desperate.” He snorted, his hand angling a bit differently to let his thumb catch your clit. He watched with pride as your head tilted back and your back arched. Your thighs kept twitching and your walls were clamping down around his fingers more and more—he could tell you were close.
“Eddie…” You drawled, breath catching as your body braced itself for the mind-altering pleasure of your orgasm, but just as you approached the top—he pulled his hand away. You let out a distressed cry that made him laugh. He cooed at you, his hand that had been pumping his cock moving to rest on your cheek. Knowing where it had been made it even better, made it filthier. It made you wonder how many times he had just touched his dick before touching you.
“That’s for letting some random loser fuck you.” He whispered after leaning down so close that his nose was occasionally brushing against yours.
“‘m sorry…” You whine, tears of pleasure and pain having already slid down from your eyes and back towards your ears—leaving your hair damp and cold.
“You’re sorry, what?” He urged, nudging his tip against your folds.
“I’m sorry I let someone else take my virginity.” You were a blubbering mess, teary-eyed and needy.
“You’re gonna make up for it, though, right?” He purred, his tip already pressing into you and you nodded enthusiastically with a cry, your hips twitching forward.
“That’s my girl.”
Your lips parted, your lower lip quivering when he pushed into you until his hips were flush with your ass. You let out a sort of choked whimper and he groaned.
“Fuck you’re tight…” He sighed with content, sliding back before sinking back in until his tip was kissing your cervix. “Not even a virgin and I’m still gonna have to work to split this cunt open, huh?”
He was grinning again over that, over the grip your walls had on him from such a foreign stretch. It ached in the best way possible except for the occasional thrust that pinched and made you yelp out a small “ow.”
“S-so big… you’re so big…” You babble, your mind fuzzy. Your pupils were all blown out and you watched him fuck into you like it was the best dream you ever had. You eventually tilt your head back, letting out a happy hum as your hips push outward to feel him as deeply and as harshly as possible. He mimicked the sounds you made and the expressions you made from his thick cock hitting all the right places and stretching you enough that you knew you were going to be sore. All day tomorrow you were going to get brief pangs of aching that would remind you of how full you were of Eddie. Eddie, Eddie, Eddie. He was all you could focus on, and you didn’t even realize you had been whimpering his name over and over under your breath until he made fun of you for it.
“Fuck you.” You huffed defensively, only for his amusement to bolster.
“Ha!” He cackled right in your face as you looked up at him with glossy eyes, pink cheeks and pouty lips. “Already are, sweetheart.”
Soon enough your sounds annoyed him though, especially the more demanding they got. Harder. Faster. Slower. More. Please. So he flipped you over onto your stomach and had his hand on your head to press your cheek into the mattress as he mounted you again—all with a casual “God, just shut up.”
At this new angle he was driving into you with a force that reverberated throughout your whole body every time he slammed into your cervix or that gushy part of you. You felt dizzy and breathless, every stroke of his cock against your ridged walls shooting off sparks. After being so close just from his hand to now, you were steadily approaching an orgasm again—just praying he’d let you keep it this time. He must’ve noticed because his free hand was reaching down to rub your clit. Your eyelids fluttered, a sob being muffled by the comforter you were biting down on. The sound of skin smacking, the tired springs of your bed squeaking, Eddie’s panting and grunting, the chain of his wallet clinking every now and then, the wet and pornographic sound of his cock plunging in and out of your pussy—it all seemed so loud for a second and then felt muffled the next as you came undone around him. You moaned out his name, whimpering cries on the tail end. You could feel your walls fluttering around him, clamping down and then blossoming back open then clamping down again in a mind-swirling rhythm.
“That’s a good girl…” He purred in a way that might’ve been too sweet from him if it wasn’t laced with a condescending tone. “Gonna cum in you, ‘kay?”
“Uh-huh-“ You moan, body aching as he picks up the pace again, fingers tangled in your hair with a painful grip. You can’t see him, but his head is tilted back completely blissed out as he fucks into you. You felt amazing, even better than he imagined which was pretty damn astonishing considering the pedestal he already had your pussy on in his imagination. He was so close, and a brief thought of getting you pregnant nearly sent him over the edge. He was mean. So fucking mean. That was the most devious thing he could do. Fill you up and make you all round with his kid.
“Shit-“ He pants out. “Gonna fill you up, babe.”
“Please-“ You beg, pulling an incredulous chuckle from him.
“Such a good girl… always take everything I give her.” He breathes out, leaning down to trap your body between him and your bed, his hand moving your hair away from your face. “Takes everything I give her at school, and she’s gonna take everything I give her in her bed, isn’t that right?”
“Yes, please-“ You sob, gasping out with the next few sharp thrusts against you until there was this warm feeling blooming inside you as he groaned against your back. He gave a few more thrusts after cumming inside, letting out happy puffs of air. You remembered how content that guy was when he unloaded into his condom inside you in camp. That blissful look on his face before he pecked your lips then lied next to you. Eddie didn’t bother with a condom, didn’t press a little peck to your lips and he wasn’t so quick to pull out either. When you squirmed a little he shifted so he was pushed up deeper into you, pulling a gasp from you which made him smirk against your skin.
Eventually he leaned up to bite your shoulder and then he slid out of you. You were still a little out of it, purring out a whiny hum as you nuzzled your quilt. Your legs were still spread and slightly bent up while you laid there on your stomach, and as he adjusted his softening dick back into his boxers he saw his cum slowly started to seep out of you and onto your comforter. Ever the gentleman, once his pants were zipped back up and his belt was buckled he landed his palm on your ass cheek and turned you over as you huffed over the action.
“See you Monday.”
“But we… we have to…” You fought to find your words through the haze. Study. You had to study.
“Bye, doll face!” He called out as he made his way downstairs.
You pouted a little, wanting to beg him to come back and stay with you. Maybe even go another round, but you were so spent that you just laid there.
When you got your energy back enough to force you to get up, you went to pee and clean yourself up before heading downstairs. Unsure of what to do with yourself, you made your way over to your backpack and you spotted the writing on the time sheet. A smile tugged at your lips. Instead of the date he wrote his phone number, and for the synopsis of today’s tutoring session he wrote “sex ed” with a winky face, and then signed where he was supposed to.
God, you were so fucked. And you were going to need a new time sheet.
#eddie munson smut#mean!eddie munson#bully!eddie munson#perv!eddie munson#eddie munson x fem!reader#eddie munson x y/n#eddie munson x yn#eddie munson imagine#eddie munson#eddie munson stranger things#stranger things smut
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forced proximity with jack even though you guys are enemies… so you guys say 👀
lucky lift | jack hughes
warnings: elevator sex, enemies to FWB, secret pining on jack’s side, hj, unprotected p in v, creampie, oral (f receiving), fingering, teasing/general dirty talk (aka i just like writing dialogue)
pairing: jack hughes x reader
summary: the one when you hook up with your work enemy on a whim
wc: 1468
“Don’t fucking look at me like that,” You hiss. “You know I don’t like this any more than you do.”
To top off a shitty day, in which you had woken up late, spilled coffee on the shirt that you had been waiting to wear all week, and tripped up the stairs in full view of everyone in the office, you were now stuck– nay, you were trapped, cornered, imprisoned– in the elevator with none other than Jack Hughes.
You and Jack had been working at this company for the same amount of time, both of you hired in the same week, trained by the same people, and working on the same projects. You hated each other. You supposed you hated Jack first, but it was only because he made everything so competitive. He claimed he couldn’t help it when your work bestie brought it up to him (much to your chagrin), “because he was an athlete when he was younger.”
In an ideal world, this “athlete” could pry open the doors of the elevator so you could make an escape. Instead, he’s staring at you with an amused smirk on his face while you do all the work.
“Really? I couldn’t tell,” Jack scoffs.
“Maybe I do hate it more than you,” You bite back. “You seem awfully content over there to watch me do all the work.”
“I called for help,” Jack reminds you. “They said two hours. To me. I don’t remember you offering to call.”
“I didn’t have service,” You say through gritted teeth.
“Get a better provider,” Jack says in the same tone.
“You think you’re so fucking funny, don’t you?”
“I think you’re really easy to piss off.” Jack’s smile pulls at the sides of his lips in a way that’s almost endearing, but you also want to wrap your hands around his neck and squeeze.
“I think you–”
“I also think the stain on your shirt from your coffee has gotten worse with the sweat from all your efforts to escape,” Jack interrupts. “Maybe you should take it off.”
The initial surprise that came with his statement turns to anger at his arrogance. “Excuse me?” You exclaim, stalking over to him and whacking his arm. “You’re coming onto me? As if you couldn’t make this situation any worse?”
“We might as well have fun with it,” Jack says with a shrug, shying away from your violent slaps.
“I don’t even like you,” You point out. “You don’t even like me.”
Jack reaches a hand up and cups your cheek, silencing you. “Does it matter?”
The weight of his hand against your face and the pure honesty of his tone causes your stomach to turn. You’d be lying if you hadn’t thought of him like that before, but it was rare. It was during the monthly meetings Jack led, when he had to wear more business professional clothing, and he always decided to roll up his sleeves post-meeting and lose the jacket. You usually caught him in the break room brewing his own coffee, focused and straight-faced like he was about to reenter the meeting rather than celebrate its end.
“No,” You decide.
You allow him to pull you in, pressing your lips together in a surprisingly gentle kiss. You never thought Jack was the kind to savor something, but here you were. He’s slow with his movements, his fingers trailing over your curves and ridges like he’s trying to map your body.
“You’re going too slow,” You complain, palming the front of his dress pants. You fit your hand on his bulge, rubbing over it until he lets out a moan. “Let’s speed things up.”
“I want to enjoy this,” Jack mumbles and you can barely hear him.
“You will,” You tell him, unzipping his pants and reaching into his boxers. You circle your hand around his dick, pumping him from base to tip, using his precum to make the glide smoother.
“No,” Jack groans and tilts his head back. “I want to enjoy this.”
You pause your movements. “What do you mean?”
“I–” Jack bucks his hips up into your hand, your grip loose around him while you wait for him to explain. “You’re just so pretty when you’re mad at me.”
“Oh,” You breathe out.
“And you’re mad at me all the time,” Jack whines. He pushes you against the wall of the elevator, leaning in to leave kisses along your neck. He sucks at the underside of your jaw, leaving a cool circle of saliva when he trails his lips lower. “Wanted to fuck you for so long now, Y/N.”
He presses his hips into your body, your hand still trapped in his pants. You remove it as his hands cover the back of your thighs and he lifts you up, you immediately circling your legs around his waist. He uses one hand to push his pants down, his belt clinking against the floor as the fabric pools around his feet. You wrap your arms around his neck and kiss him, slipping your tongue into his mouth and causing him to groan. Jack pulls your skirt up and moves your panties to the side, movements quick now that he admitted his secret to you.
He presses himself inside of you, feeding his cock into your tight, wet cunt.
“Feels so good,” Jack whispers. “So tight, baby. So wet.”
“Fuck me, Jack,” You tell him, voice strong. “Need you to fuck me.”
“Gonna,” Jack agrees with a moan, rolling his hips sensually.
Jack steps forward until he can hold you up against the wall and push one leg so your ankle rests on his shoulder. He turns and gives your ankle a kiss, then bows his head to watch himself enter you to a rhythm that only he knows. Jack moves like he’s drunk on the feeling of you, soft noises falling from his lips like he’s trying not to be too loud. You can almost feel the elevator shaking with his movements.
“Not gonna last,” Jack chokes out, clutching at your waist.
“Gonna come in me?” You tease, nipping at Jack’s earlobe.
Jack lets out a high keen, his mouth falling open and his eyelids fluttering shut as your entrance flutters around him, causing him to come undone inside of you. His breaths come out as stuttered as his thrusts do, his come warm inside you and leaking out when he draws himself out of you.
Jack keeps you pressed against the wall of the elevator, but lowers himself to his knees.
“Gonna clean you up,” Jack promises. Your thighs rest on his shoulders, your ankles crossed behind his back. His hands pull at your ass cheeks, kneading them.
“J,” You whimper when Jack attaches his lips to your entrance. He moans against your hole, flicking his tongue against your hole like a dog drinking from a bowl of water. He nuzzles his face into your cunt and brings a hand around to rub your clit in quick circles.
“Y’look so good,” Jack praises, his eyes so big and blue from where they look up at you. “You gonna come? Gonna mix us together, give me something to really enjoy?”
“Oh,” You exclaim, your fingers lacing into Jack’s hair. Your hips buck against his face and he slips a finger into your hole, pushing it in and out of you and curling it as he laps at your clit. “Fuck, Jack, just like that.”
Miraculously, he listens to you and only intensifies his actions, pumping a second finger into you.
You choke on a wail as you come on his fingers, the climax causing your head to fall back against the wall of the elevator with force. Jack stifles a laugh, but continues to lick at your come (and his own) until you’re removing your hands from his hair and trying to get your feet back on solid ground.
“You know, I like you like this,” Jack teases, fixing your panties for you and moving your skirt back to its original position. He pulls his own pants up when he rises, tucking himself away and buckling his belt with his very talented fingers. “All fucked out.”
“If anything, I’m the one who fucked you,” You bite back. “You came first and you ate your own come out of me."
“Mmm, next time I’ll leave it inside of you,” Jack says with a short kiss to your neck, adjusting the collar of your blouse. His hand ghosts over your neck and he feels the way your breath hitches. “Maybe we should get to the office early one day and I’ll bend you over my desk. You’ll have to walk around all day, feeling my come drip out of you. You’ll be begging me to clean you up then.”
note: ugh office enemies is a trope that i need in my life. if i'm going to be a slave to the work force i am going to fuck my hot enemy jack hughes whenever i can!
#puck-luck's fics#jack hughes#jack hughes smut#jack hughes x reader#jack hughes x y/n#nhl smut#nhl fic#nhl x reader#nhl fanfiction#andy writes anything🍄
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impulsivity in bpd can be cutting and dyeing your hair, but it’s also frying and destroying your hair to a point where it’s completely ruined and you’re self conscious of it everyday.
impulsivity in bpd can be having an attitude and saying some petty things to people, but it’s also ruining every good friendship and relationship you’ve ever had and you can’t stop yourself from sabotaging everything, so you end up alone in a deep pit.
impulsivity in bpd can be having some drinks, doing dr*gs, or having a lot of meaningless sex. but it’s also relying on drinking and dr*gs so much that you’re completely off your face all time and it ruins your image and every aspect of your life. and it’s also no one wanting a relationship with you because you “sleep around” or “probably have an std”.
impulsivity in bpd can be browsing an fps facebook. but it’s also stalking their every move online and their every step in the real world constantly because you need them so bad. you can’t live without knowing if they’re okay, knowing what they’re doing, knowing if they’re leaving you for someone else, etc.
the list goes on. us borderlines post a lot of shit about bpd, and in my personal case, laughing it off and sharing it to others makes me feel a bit better and i know that it makes others feel less alone knowing that other people are doing the same horrendous shit. but stop romanticising being obsessive, quirky, impulsive, and having an attitude. it’s fucking painful. the emotional aspect is PHYSICALLY painful. watching the world crumble around us because most of us can’t fucking stop ourselves is painful. the withdrawals from substances, s/h, etc because we are so prone to addiction is PAINFUL. i’m all for supporting our fellow borderlines and cluster b peoples, but STOP self diagnosing to be “trendy”. i’m not on about self diagnosing, etc if you’re certain and it means you’re getting the support that you absolutely need. everyone is deserving of help, whether healthcare wants to agree or not, EVERYONE deserves the help they need. but stop trying to make bpd sound fun. being euphoric is fun, the rest of it IS NOT. ITS FUCKING PAINFUL. thank u bye 💕
(ps. i hate making rant posts about this, but seeing people act like bpd is a “fun choice” in life pisses me the fuck off, every day is just pure fucking suffering. the people romanticising and hyping this shit up are the same people who will talk shit about any cluster b who is showing symptoms or having one hell of an episode. but this NEEDS to be out there x)
(edit: the amount of support i’ve had on this is unreal 😭❤️ i tried to word this the best i can but when i have a lot to say it often comes out making no fucking sense at all or something comes off the wrong way. i saw someone reply about the yanderes shit. I KNOW WHAT YOU MEAN. i don’t know why the fuck people fetishise it, it makes me feel disgusting to have an fp even if i’m keeping as far away from them as possible. and also the “euphoric is fun”, i still do a lot of embarrassing and over the top shit when i’m euphoric that i regret. but in the moment, the happiness i feel i just embrace now because it’s not been often that i ever get to feel like that. thank you so much for the likes and reblogs, i really hope this post has helped y’all. I LOVE YOU ALL ❤️)
#bpd#bpd fp#bpd feels#bpd culture is#bpd vent#actually bpd#bpd thoughts#bpd problems#bpd safe#fp bpd#psych is allergic to borderlines#bordahline pershonality dishorder#actually borderline#borderline pd#borderline personality disorder#borderline#borderline culture is#cluster b
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switching the positions
pairing: joel miller x f!reader
summary: a collection of micro-fics chronicling the days of a very eventful week in the lives of you and joel miller (inspired by ariana grande's positions)
warnings: 18+ MDNI, pre-outbreak, established relationship, fluff, angst, hurt/comfort, smut, unprotected piv, rough sex, oral (f&m receiving), 69ing, mutual/guided masturbation, edging, mild exhibitionism, consensual somnophilia, squirting, rimming, unplanned pregnancy, pregnancy kink, pregnant sex, panic attacks, mentions of parents, mentions of food
word count: 16.2k
moodboard by my sweet girl @cavillscurls ♡
a/n: whew, my pride and joy, a whole two months in the making. tysm to everyone who voted on the poll, and especially to @dinsdjrn for helping me tie this whole thing together and mya for listening to me yell about this for weeks. as always, thoughts and feedback are always appreciated!
SUNDAY
"Boy, I'm tryna meet your mama on a Sunday."
“She’s gonna hate me.”
“She’s not gonna hate you.”
Oh, you know this woman is going to hate you. It’s not that parents don’t like you. On the contrary, you actually get along great with people’s parents. Your friends’, your old roommate’s, your coworkers'—hell, even your own. It’s just that moms, specifically, can smell fear, and Joel’s mom is going to smell the terror wafting off of you from a mile away.
Not that it’s personal or anything. You’re pretty sure she’d hate anyone dating her baby boy. It’s like, a boy-mom thing. Still doesn’t make you feel any better about your boyfriend’s mom potentially hating you.
“Whose idea was this dinner again?” Because if it was Joel’s, then he can still reschedule or fake an illness or, better yet, call the whole thing off.
“Baby, you know it was hers,” he replies from his spot at the edge of the bed, where he’s been watching you pace the room and throw half the closet on the floor for the past hour. You shoot him an exasperated look.
“But did you have to say yes? Isn’t it kind of early for me to be meeting your mom anyway?”
He looks at you like you have ten heads, but you ignore him, debating two shirts in the mirror, then deciding they’re both terrible and adding them to the pile on the floor.
“It’s been a year and a half. If we wait any longer, she’ll be meetin’ you at the weddin’,” he sighs, running his hands frustratedly down his face. You pause your closet tornado to stare at him, wide-eyed, and he rolls his eyes. “I’m just sayin’, I think it’d be good for y’all to meet, is all.”
Good for who? Certainly not you. Honestly, this dinner could have serious repercussions for your relationship. It’s entirely possible she could convince him to break up with you after the night’s over. Or that you’re a bad role model and shouldn’t be allowed around Sarah anymore. Your stomach lurches violently at the thought. Then, it hits you—
“Okay, yeah, that’s fair enough—but have we thought about who’s gonna watch Sarah tonight? We can’t just leave her by herself, and I’m sure your mom would totally understand that,” you try to reason but, again, Joel’s not going for it.
“She’s 14 years old, I think she can handle a couple hours alone,” he deadpans. “Baby, c’mon, it’s not gonna be that bad. Please? Is it really too much to ask for the woman I love to meet my momma?”
You soften at that. Logically, you know he’s right and it’s not fair for you to keep giving him such a hard time. You’re also pre-judging someone really special to him, and now you feel like the shittiest girlfriend in the world.
“You’re right. I know you’re right—I’m sorry,” you sigh, wrapping your arms around yourself. You’re not sure why you’re feeling so insecure about all this. “I just want her to like me, you know?”
He nods, lips quirking into a small smile, and pats his lap. You fall into his arms and he rocks you for a moment, kissing your hair, then your cheek. The anxiety’s starting to subside and you’re grateful for him, your sweet boyfriend who never asks you for anything. Your eyes meet his, and he leans in to kiss you softly, deeply, then pulls away just enough to rest his forehead against yours.
“I know ya do,” he murmurs, rubbing soothing circles into your thigh. “And she will, alright? Just give her a chance like she’s givin’ you one.”
So, for Joel, you do. Turns out his mom is lovely and wonderful, just like her son, and now you have a lot to make up for.
MONDAY
"Then make a lotta love on a Monday."
It’s early and yet, somehow, you’re already awake and feeling like it’s going to be a good day. There’s no alarm clocks blaring, no feet stomping up and down the stairs. Just sweet, blissful sunlight, and it feels so good this morning. Warm and wet and, god, right there—please, keep going right there.
You reach out to feel its light against your hands and between your fingers, and it hums, sending sweet vibrations up your arms, all the way down to your thighs. Heat starts to bloom in your belly as the sun rises higher, burning hotter and hotter, and your fingers tense, tugging at its soft rays.
Everything feels so much wetter now, and there’s no way you’re not sweating right through your shirt and into the sheets. Even your underwear is soaked, your cunt pleasurably slick and dripping as you pant softly into your pillow.
Then, all of it suddenly intensifies and you’re enveloped by a wet, dextrous warmth that circles and circles, dipping into you, fucking into you, and suddenly, you’re so, so close—
And then you’re cumming with a loud sob, hips bucking with every spasm until something broad and strong splays across your stomach and pushes you back down into the sheets.
It's…you realize it’s Joel. Balmy and beautiful like the morning sun. He groans as you gush into his mouth, lapping up everything you give him, and you’re vaguely aware of the bed shifting under you as he grinds his hips into the mattress for relief.
“…B-baby? What—what’s going on…,” you slur sleepily, hands tugging harder at his hair as he continues to suckle your clit through the aftershocks. You whine at the oversensitivity, and he pulls off to press one last kiss to your heat before throwing the sheets off behind his head.
His eyes meet yours and, fuck, he looks wrecked. His hair is in complete disarray and his eyes are a little wild…and then there’s the giant tent in his boxers and that delicious wet spot that makes your mouth water. He doesn’t respond—just crawls up your body to crash his lips against yours, licking into your mouth, and all you can taste is yourself when his tongue brushes against yours.
You moan into his mouth as he grinds into your sensitive core, then parts from your lips just long enough to pull your sweat-soaked shirt up and over your head. The cool morning air feels like heaven against your feverish skin and, with the sheets gone, you can feel a cool breeze coming through the open window, amplified by the oscillating fan next to the bed.
Christ, he must be so pent up by now. Your brain is finally starting to clear from its post-sleep fog, and now you’re wondering how long he’s been between your legs, eating you out like you’re the heartiest breakfast he’s ever had in his life.
But that train of thought is quickly derailed when his lips find a new home around your nipple, sucking it into his mouth and circling his tongue around the nub until it hardens. The delicate skin feels especially tender, and you whimper quietly as the roughness of his beard scrapes against you. Your fingers thread back into his hair and you tug, urging him back up so you can feel his mouth on yours again.
“Joel, fuck me,” you murmur against his lips, and his breath hitches. “Wanna feel you—please.”
The sensitivity must’ve already subsided because your hips are steadily meeting his and you’re feeling so desperate to have him inside you. His cock feels heavy as he rubs himself against your slick cunt and, while the fabric provides the most incredible friction when it grazes your clit, you want him bare immediately.
“Now…ngh—now,” you whine, and you’re stunned he still has the patience to tease when he pulls away slightly to smirk down at you.
“Needy girl this morning, ain’t ya?” His voice is thick with sleep and so much desire, and it makes your still locked-down pussy clench painfully. “S’alright, baby, ‘m gonna give it to ya.”
Wrenching his boxers down, he grips under your legs to push both of your knees to your chest before nudging the blunt head of his cock against your entrance. He inches in just the tip and immediately lets out a whoosh of air.
“So fuckin’ tight, Jesus Christ,” he grits through his teeth, working himself in and out of you until he’s buried to the hilt, the coarse hair at the base of his cock brushing against you just right. He lingers for a brief moment, grinding into you deeply, languidly while you adjust to his girth.
"S'good. Feels good," you murmur, sighing contently. He's brushing that spot he can only reach when he fucks you like this, so you lock your ankles behind his back, silently telling him to stay. But it feels a little selfish, and you can feel how much he's holding back.
"Baby...I gotta move," he pants, trembling with the effort it's taking not to lengthen his thrusts. Pulling out slowly, he presses back into you deep enough to nudge that spot again, and your vision goes hazy. "Promise, I'll take care of ya—"
You moan in unison as you flutter around him, and he takes that as the go-ahead to continue, his cock reappearing wetter and shinier after every stroke. His skin is glistening, too, slick with sweat that runs down his temples and pools where your bodies connect.
The heat of him is addictive and it's everywhere—blooming in your chest, blazing between your legs, and igniting something fathomless inside you. But somehow, it's still not hot enough. You know he can give you more, your blindingly beautiful sun.
Wrapping your arms loosely around his shoulders, you squeeze your thighs into his sides to pull him flush against your body, and you can feel his heartbeat pounding through his chest. The steady rhythm matches his thrusts perfectly, but he's groaning so sweetly in your ear that you have a feeling it won't for long.
You belatedly realize how hard you're clenching around him, suddenly so close to tumbling over the edge for the second time this morning, and he redoubles his efforts to follow you.
"L-like that, keep going just like that," you encourage between sharp exhales. "That—that's it."
He braces a hand next to your head on the pillow to stabilize himself, and you wrap your fingers around his wrist, grounding yourself to him. His eyes meet yours fondly before he buries his face into the crook of your neck to do the same, panting heavily against your skin.
Soft, brown curls tickle your cheek, and you turn your head to nose into his hair, breathing him in. He smells earthy like freshly-mown grass and sawdust, and it fills your lungs, surrounding you just when you need it the most.
You gasp in his air, hips swiveling into his desperately as you chase your release. He's slamming directly into that spot now, pushing your knees back into your chest to reach even deeper, but his thighs are starting to tense.
"'m not gonna last long," he admits breathily, all but folding you in half so he can brush his lips against yours. "S'too good...gonna make me cum so hard."
"Please...please, please." Fuck, you want to feel it. To feel him pulsing inside you, filling you up so good, so much. "Joel, cum—please cum."
So close, you're so close. Your soft sighs have evolved into something louder and higher-pitched. Too loud for this early in the morning, and enough to wake up the entire house if you're not careful.
Joel seals his mouth over yours, swallowing every noise that escapes your lips as he pounds into you with purpose, dragging against your walls, and it's...fuck, you're—
Gushing, sobbing as you cum, and he groans, long and drawn out, immediately following you over the edge. Releasing your legs, he digs his fingers into your hips to hold you in place, keeping his cock buried deep inside you as you milk him dry.
"Fuck me," he exhales shakily, pumping into you twice before pulling out and collapsing on top of you. "Good fuckin' morning."
A breathy laugh bubbles out of your chest, but you immediately cringe at the feeling of his cum leaking out of you and onto the sheets. You wedge a hand between your bodies, reaching down to swipe your thumb between your folds and procure a glob that you suck wetly into your mouth.
"Very good fuckin' morning," you smile cheekily at the look of awe on his face. He shakes his head, chuckling as he wraps you up in his arms and rolls you over onto your sides. His chest expands into you with a massive yawn, and you're helpless but to mirror him.
"How much time we got until the alarm?" he mutters sleepily, sounding like he could pass out at any moment. You're craning your head back to check when—
The damn thing starts blaring before you can even catch a glimpse of the time. Not that you need to now—it's 6 a.m., your mortal enemy. You glare at the clock like it personally offended you, and Joel only chuckles, pulling you back down with him.
"Snooze it," he murmurs, mouthing damply at your neck, his hands exploring your soft, bare skin. "We still got time."
You barely hear him, already lost in the feeling of his fingers skimming up your sides, thumbs brushing the underside of your breasts. He leans over you to hit the button himself before returning to you, kissing you like you've both got all the time in the world.
Neither of you makes it to work on time.
TUESDAY
"Cookin' in the kitchen, and I'm in the bedroom."
The oven is broken. Probably. The stove, too. It’s really not your fault—all you did was turn some knobs and stand there, but for some reason, none of the burners are catching and the oven sure isn’t cooking this chicken like it’s supposed to.
You don't even like chicken but, for some ungodly reason, you've had a wicked craving for it lately. And Joel loves it, so. That explains why you’re in the kitchen, getting side-eyed by a very skeptical 14 year old, trying to cook a nice dinner for her very overworked father. It’s not going well.
“Did you hear it click when you tried turning it on?” Sarah asks patiently, and now it’s your turn to look skeptical.
“Uhh, the knob or the stove?” You eye the appliance dubiously like it’s doing whatever it’s doing on purpose. She laughs pointing to one of the burners.
“So, when you twist the knob, gas comes out of here,” she taps the grating around the burner, “and the clicking creates a spark that ignites the gas so it lights. Then, voila, you’ve got a working stove.”
“Oh,” you reply dumbly, looking back and forth between her and the stove until she finally gets the hint.
“Fine, fine. I can do it,” she rolls her eyes good-naturedly. And of course, the stupid thing works with zero issues when she does it. You give her a grateful smile before throwing the dirtiest glare you can muster at the oven.
“What do we do about that one? I guess I could try cooking the whole chicken in a big pan, but I can’t guarantee we won’t all die from food poisoning…,” you trail off, starting to feel a little useless.
It’s not like you’re completely inept in the kitchen. You can use a toaster or a microwave like a damn pro, and even the blender if you’re feeling especially adventurous, but you’ve never made a big meal like this before. Sarah likes to cook when you’re not ordering out, which admittedly is most of the time, so this was supposed to be something special for her, too.
“It’s the same general concept,” she says, still kind and patient as ever, squatting down to show you a different set of knobs. You observe her for a moment, missing the start of her explanation, because it’s times like these where you can see so much of Joel in her.
It’s that spark in her eyes when she gets to share bits of her well-earned knowledge. To use her expertise to teach someone something brand new. Joel gets the same look when he’s trying to teach you guitar. His eyes shine when you finally get a chord down, and he downright beams when you can finish an entire bar by yourself.
You must’ve zoned out for too long because she’s suddenly waving a hand in front of your face, smiling her dad’s sweet smile as she waits for your focus to return to the task at hand.
“Shit, I’m sorry. What did I miss?” you ask sheepishly. She nods to the oven, already lit and heating up to the required 400 degrees Fahrenheit for cooking baked chicken.
“All good! It’s set for whenever you’ve got the food prepped. You just have to wait for it to hit temperature—it’ll beep when it’s ready,” she says, walking around the kitchen island to grab her backpack.
…Wait. She’s leaving?
“Woah, wait, where are you going? You can’t leave yet,” you plead, still desperate for her help. “What if I burn the house down?”
“You’re not gonna burn down the house,” she snorts, already at the door tugging on her sneakers. “Just remember to turn off the burners and you’ll be fine. And save me some food!… Unless everyone gets sick, then maybe don’t.”
You shoot her a look of absolute betrayal, and she laughs, opening the front door and waving over her shoulder.
“See ya later! Good luck, I believe in you!”
And then she’s gone, and you’re left alone with your misery and a bunch of random ingredients you still have to magically make into a meal.
You slump against the counter, lamenting the loss of your sous chef until the oven beeps, scaring the shit out of you. Oh, great. You’ve barely even started seasoning the chicken. It can’t be that hard, right?
Twenty minutes later, you’re standing in front of a very peppery-looking raw chicken—which is officially disgusting again, you changed your mind—wishing you had just ordered Boston Market and lied about making it yourself. Lesson learned for next time. Like there’ll be a next time.
Well, at least no one can say you didn’t try. You throw a bunch of mixed vegetables into the bottom of the pan like the recipe says and pop it in the oven, setting the timer for 40 minutes and hoping for the best.
Glancing at the clock above the sink, you realize you’re cutting it close on time. You told Joel to be home by eight, which means he’ll probably actually get here at nine, and it’s already 7:30. Yikes. Time flies when you’re trying not to fuck up a dinner that was doomed from the start.
The last piece of the puzzle is thankfully the easiest. Now, mashed potatoes are definitely something you can make. Boiling water? Piece of cake. Pouring in the instant flakes from the box and adding butter? Done and done.
There’s no way anyone’ll be able to tell you didn’t make them from scratch unless they check the trash and, anyways, the instant stuff is better. You’ll go down with that ship.
Now for the pièce de résistance: the perfect evening attire. A cute, 50s-era apron you thrifted two weeks ago that’ll go over the teeny, tiny Victoria’s Secret lingerie set you’ve been hiding in the back of the closet.
Joel will probably think it’s hilarious, once he stops drooling. Hopefully you’ll even make it to dinner, otherwise, the stress of this entire afternoon was a totally moot point. But he’ll have to be a good boy and finish his food before he can have dessert—apple pie you definitely didn’t make, and you laid out on his bed like the best fucking treat he’ll ever taste.
You end up with enough time to take the chicken and veggies out of the oven—the meat thermometer tells you it’s cooked through and that’s good enough for you—and stir up the mashed potatoes before you have to head upstairs to get everything else ready. So far, surprisingly, so good.
You’re in the middle of patting yourself on the back for a job well-done, with time to spare, when you hear the front door open. At eight fucking thirty. This would be the one day Joel gets home early and, by the sounds of dishware and cutlery clinking around downstairs, he’s already discovered your big surprise.
“Baby, you up there?” he calls up the stairs. “What’s all this?”
Well. Guess it’s showtime. You finish tying the apron around your waist before giving yourself one last once over in the mirror. Everything fits perfectly, just like you knew it would, and the food’s done, for better or worse. So there’s no need to be nervous, right? It’s just Joel. Your Joel. He’d love it no matter what, even if it all ends up being total shit.
Taking a steadying breath, you head down the stairs, letting your appearance serve as his answer. The apron rubs scratchily against your skin, a reminder of how naked you actually are underneath, and you let your confidence in Joel’s inevitably wanton reaction make you brave.
And he doesn’t disappoint. His eyes rove over you greedily, from the pout of your lips to the tiniest slip of your nipple peeking over your bra, all the way down to the soft, bare skin of your legs. Yeah, no need to be nervous at all.
“Just a little surprise I cooked up,” you smirk a little deviously as you reach the bottom of the stairs. He’s on you in a second, hands exploring your body eagerly, impatiently, as he leans in to kiss you, but he’s halted by a finger to his lips. “Uh-uh. Can’t have dessert yet. There’s a whole meal waiting for you—I made your favorite.”
He chuckles, gingerly pressing a kiss to your finger instead before leading you backward into the kitchen.
“Well, let’s get started then. I’m starvin’,” he says, looking hungrier than you’ve ever seen him. You return his gaze, suddenly feeling ravenous yourself.
“Good. It’s dinner time.”
WEDNESDAY
"Wrist icicle, ride dick bicycle."
Spin class sucks.
There’s really no need for the music to be this loud. And it’s bad. They say it’s supposed to amp you up for rigorous exercise, but it’s just giving you a headache.
It’s also about a thousand degrees in here, and you’d be leaving a massive pool of sweat on this seat if you were even allowed to sit on it. The whole concept of spinning makes no sense, and you’re starting to think it’s actually just a dance class on stationary bikes because no one in their right mind would ever ride a bicycle like this.
It’s embarrassing, for starters, and you’re surrounded by hot people that are way better at it than you are. You didn’t even know you could gyrate on a fucking bike until today, and they all somehow make it look sexy. Like they’re legitimately having a great time. Having fun.
But not you. The music might honestly be doing you a favor by drowning out your pathetic attempts to breathe. You’re starting to get a little lightheaded and feel like you’re about to be sick.
No workout is worth this. You can’t even pretend to follow the instructor’s directions, because you can barely hear her over the speakers. She probably can't even hear herself, yelling into the void of shitty EDM remixes, and expecting everyone to pick it up. If you’d known this was just some fucked up version of leg day, you would’ve skipped it.
There's no sneaking out early, either. You took the bus and Joel won’t be here to pick you up for at least another half hour. Honestly, you'd rather walk home and let that be your exercise for the day, but unless you plan on jogging along the highway, you're shit out of luck.
The beat abruptly picks back up, startling you out of your personal pity party, and then everyone's asses are in the air again, hips swiveling so perfectly in sync that it has to be choreographed. You're getting the hang of it now that you're realizing the routine just repeats itself, but it still feels mildly exploitative.
It doesn't help that your class is starting to draw in a crowd, likely attracted by all of the revealing athletic wear on display. At least you got that memo. Whoever had the bright idea to put a huge glass wall at the back of the room was either a genius or a pervert. Probably both, depending on who you ask.
Once the hardest section of the choreography passes, you look behind you to check the time, praying more than you think has passed, but you're sorely disappointed. And the crowd outside's only gotten bigger.
Don't these assholes have anything better to do than stand there drooling over a spin class? You continue to glare at them over your shoulder through the next part of the song, looking a little ridiculous grinding into your seat as you silently tell them all off.
Out of the corner of your eye, you catch one of them off to the side laughing, but when you turn to send an even harsher look in their direction, you realize you recognize him.
What a dick. If you'd known he was going to be this early, you definitely would've snuck out and waited outside instead of becoming another piece of eye candy for a bunch of gym rats.
Joel looks a little too pleased with himself, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed like he’s enjoying the view as much as the rest of those creeps. Well, if he wants a show, then you’ll give him one. Now that you’ve gotten the movements down, you can put all of your energy into making him wish there wasn’t an entire glass wall separating him from you.
That one, grueling section of the song loops back around, and this time you put your all into it, arching like you’re supposed to, swiveling your hips into the seat with all of the muscle control you’ve got. Your shorts ride up your ass at the change in movement, probably giving you a wicked camel toe, but you let them. You can only imagine the look on Joel’s face now.
The song starts to wind down, finally coming to a stop, and you lower yourself back onto the seat, panting with the exertion of the past 45 minutes. Turning back around, you notice the crowd has mostly dispersed, save for a few stragglers and Joel, who’s panting almost as hard as you are.
Your eyes drop to his pants, and you quirk an eyebrow. His breathing’s not the only thing that’s hard. He looks a little wrecked and, suddenly, this whole workout thing feels like it might’ve been worth it after all.
You hop off the bike and retrieve your duffel from the back of the room, teasingly flicking the glass in front of his face before exiting with the rest of the class.
"Ready to go?" you ask brightly, still feeling high off the endorphin rush. He doesn't respond, looking a little dazed as he watches a droplet of sweat run down your neck, past your collarbone, and right between your breasts. "You doing alright there, bud?"
You laugh, enjoying your revenge a little too much, reveling in the way his jaw tenses and the muscles in his neck twitch angrily. It’s about to be a very interesting ride home—or it would’ve been if you’d made it that far.
On the way out, you pass an out-of-order men’s room, and he yanks you inside, locking the door behind you.
It's a little surprising he's this pent up after the night you had, especially with the sheer amount of sex you’ve been having lately—not that you're complaining. But what's even more surprising is that he's choosing right now to rectify it, basically in public where anyone could overhear or walk in on you. It's...really out of character for him. You thought he'd at least make it to the car.
“Joel, what the—,” you yelp as he lifts you up by the waist to settle you on the edge of a sink. It's clear his patience has completely run out because, within seconds, he's dropping to his knees, burying his face in your heat. "—fuck."
Your legs immediately try to close around his head, but he forces them back open with enough strength to overextend your already abused hamstrings. It shouldn't feel as good as it does, but the pain, combined with his blunt nails biting into your thighs, sends delicious jolts right to your core.
You exhale shakily, burying your fingers in his hair as he sucks a damp patch into your shorts, just slightly lower than where you need him. Your hips buck, urging him higher, but he doesn't allow that either, shoving them back down onto the hard porcelain beneath you.
Should've known it wouldn't be that easy. He's handling you aggressively, rougher than you would've expected, and that's when you realize he's mad.
"Bet ya thought that was real funny, teasin' me like that," he growls into your clothed pussy, licking up the seam to swirl wet circles where your clit throbs under too many layers. "Don't feel very nice, does it?"
His eyes meet yours as he sucks a little harder, and you whimper, tugging at his hair in a silent plea for him to take your shorts off and eat you out the way you both want him to. But he's going to drag this out and you know it.
Joel loves a little payback and has the patience of a saint unless he's pushed past his limit. To your detriment, you shoved him over that line with the stunt you pulled earlier, so now you'll have to convince him it's in his best interest to let it go.
Switching tactics, you tempt him with what he could have if he just gave in. Your fingers dip beneath your waistband, and you sigh as you slick them up against your folds before dipping them inside. You're already soaked, and so tight, even around two of your own fingers, and you tell him as much.
"No, it doesn't feel nice...but I know something that will," you pump your fingers in and out of yourself, the muted sound of wet squelching reaching your ears. "Hear that?—," you gasp, hips lifting off the sink as you accidentally graze something spongey and sensitive, "—t-that's all for you."
And it works like a charm. Your shorts and underwear are pulled off in a single, hard tug, his tongue fucking into you before you can even fully inhale, and you choke out a strangled moan instead. He eats you out like a man starved, his nose nudging your clit with every dip of his tongue, and it feels so potent, you practically see stars.
Your combined slick and his saliva are starting to leak over the edge of the sink but he catches every drop, and the way he slurps you up makes your cheeks burn. Joel's a lot of things when he's between your legs—enthusiastic, generous, and a little sloppy, but he's never wasteful.
Two thick fingers prod at your entrance, and then he's pressing them into you, the slide snug, but easy with how wet you are for him. Finally, finally, you can feel your orgasm building, and you're sent reeling when his tongue fucks into you between his fingers, filling you up—it's...yes, right there—
But he abruptly pulls his mouth away, still not done making you pay.
"Damn right, it's all for me. Ya think those jackasses watching you weren't thinkin' about this?" he growls, his fingers slowing to leisurely stroke your walls as if they weren't about to throw you over the edge a moment ago. "Think they could make you feel this good? Make you cum like I do?"
Your pussy flutters pathetically around him, and the false look of sympathy he gives you makes you want to cry out of sheer frustration.
"Gonna need an answer if you want me to keep goin'," he drawls, still close enough that you can feel his breath, hot against your cunt.
You bite down on your bottom lip, just hard enough to momentarily distract yourself from the aching between your legs so you can respond, but you're taking too long. His fingers have all but stopped, so you panic.
"Fuck those assholes. Fuck all of them," you grit through your teeth. He quirks an eyebrow, marginally picking up the pace of his fingers.
"Fuck 'em, huh? That what you wanna do?" He's teasing you, and even though it's obvious, you fall right into his trap, anyway. Blanching, you shake your head furiously.
"N-no—no, no, no. Just you, only wanna fuck you," you gasp, frantically trying to convince him of something you both already know to be true without a shadow of a doubt. It's honestly impressive that he can work you like this and, even more so, that he's the only one that can.
"S'okay, I know...I know. This right here—," he gives your clit a few kitten licks, the pads of his fingertips rubbing that perfect spot inside you, "—s'mine."
Then, he's burying his face back between your legs, redoubling his efforts, and it's so fucking sloppy. Wet and hot, and hungry, as if edging you has the same effect on him.
You feel him groan into you as you start to tighten around his fingers, loud enough that his chest rumbles with it, sending sweet vibrations up your thighs. The sound of his belt jingling, then hitting the floor vaguely makes it past the blood rushing in your ears, but his broad shoulders and head bobbing between your legs are blocking your view.
All you can see or hear is the frantic movement of his arm, his hand working up and down his cock, and the sound of skin slapping on skin. Fuck, that's—so hot, you're so close. So fucking close—
But he's got one last edge left in him.
You're throbbing so violently that for a second you're terrified he ruined your orgasm, but no, you're still teetering on the cusp, thighs quaking so hard, you can’t believe you haven’t crushed his head between them already. At this point, the smallest touch, even the tiniest puff of air would send you hurtling over.
He's still jerking himself off, sounding delirious as he separates his mouth from you to speak.
"Need to hear ya s-say it...," he pants, and you cry out, angrily reaching down to roughly shove his face back into you, but he resists. Spurred on by your reaction, he only fucks into his fist faster. “Nobody else gets to taste ya like I do…do they? Say it. Say it and I'll…ngh—let you cum,” he moans lowly, possessively.
Joel sounds completely gone. You never could've imagined dry humping a fucking stationary bike would set him off like this, or that a bunch of dumb muscleheads would make him this jealous. He's so lost in it, in you.
But the way he's looking up at you right now—it's like he really does need you to do this for him. To tell him that it’s just him, and it’ll only ever be him. It’s the truth. No one else has ever made you feel the way he does, with his mouth and hands, or his heart, and they never will again.
You whine, shaking your head pleadingly, ready to tell him whatever he wants to hear. Anything for him to put his mouth back on you again.
"T-they don't—no one else gets to, but you...only you," you keen as he seals his lips around your clit, all of his fears and insecurities finally soothed. Your head tips back, the feeling of his hot tongue laving over the sensitive bundle of nerves and his thick fingers—three of them, now—dragging against your walls exactly what you need.
You cum frighteningly quickly, your orgasm so powerful and overwhelming that you start to black out. Your eyes squeeze shut, and then it’s all just pleasure—the tension in all of your limbs slowly bleeds out with every spasm of your cunt, and something wet…so wet, splashes against your inner thighs.
Joel groans louder than you think you’ve ever heard him, the sound practically punched out of his chest as he licks broader lines up your pussy, sucking and slurping, and what…what is that? Why the fuck are you so wet? He—did Joel cum on you, and you didn’t even notice?
But that’s impossible because now his body’s completely seizing up, the hand around his cock stilling as he spurts thick ropes of cum across the bathroom floor. Or at least that’s the image your brain conjures up, unable to see it for yourself.
Your vision’s only just beginning to return to you, and you immediately look down to see what actually happened...and fuck. It was you. Joel’s head is resting on your thigh, nuzzling into your soft, very damp skin, and he's looking up at you in awe.
“Shit, baby…,” he pants, chest heaving, cock still twitching in his hand. "Ain't ever seen you do that before."
You blink blearily, lips parting as you take him in. He's a goddamn mess. His face and beard are soaked, and his shirt is splattered with what you can only assume is your release. You fucking squirted? In a dirty gym bathroom?
"What the fuck?" you mumble, still dazed and a little in disbelief at how your first, and probably last, trip to the gym went. You shake your head, clearing up the brain fog enough to quickly process the past two hours, and now you're in shock. "Joel, what the fuck?" you ask again incredulously.
He has the nerve to look sheepish where he's still happily nestled between your legs post-orgasm, and you bop the top of his head with your palm, eyeing him expectantly.
"Wanna explain what all of that was?"
"Look—," he starts, lips quirking down into that little frown you know so well. "If you'd've heard the shit those fuckers were sayin' about ya. Probably would've said worse if I hadn't told 'em to fuck off before they got into some real trouble."
"Wait, you were the reason they all took off? Joel," you laugh because suddenly it all makes sense.
You just learned the hard way that a grumpy, jealous Joel means getting edged until you black out. Pretty good knowledge to have for future reference, to be honest. Now that you're not sobbing with his head between your legs, it all seems so silly.
"What, did ya expect me to just stand there and let 'em talk about fuckin' my girl right in front of me?"
"I mean, no, but...I dunno, maybe just take the compliment next time and don't threaten a group of scary, muscular men," you chuckle fondly, cupping his wet cheeks in your hands. "Okay? It basically just means you have a hot girlfriend. Congratulations!"
But he only grumbles in response, still pouting like a child. You bend down to press a soft kiss to his forehead, and he sighs, some of the tension bleeding out of his shoulders.
"What if, when we get home, I show you some of the techniques I learned in my class?" you murmur into his hair. He tilts his head back, eyeing you skeptically.
"Baby, we don't have a stationary bike," he says, brows furrowed in confusion. You suck your bottom lip into your mouth, eyes dropping to his lap.
"That's okay. We won't need one."
THURSDAY
"You can't imagine what I'm 'bout to say. You really wanna know? You'll have to wait. (It's a surprise, surprise.)"
Blue, blue, blue. Just do it, just be blue! It's a great color—the best color, maybe even your favorite color.
You keep chanting at it, loudly and in your head, but the plastic stick doesn't seem to appreciate your encouragement. It just stares back at you, blank and unhelpful.
How much longer do the instructions say you have to wait? One to three minutes, that's it? It feels like it's already been two hours, but it's actually only been...30 seconds. What the fuck.
Maybe if you shake it, it'll develop faster. It's basically like a polaroid, right? And Outkast has never steered you wrong, so. You lean over from where you're still sitting on the toilet, pants around your ankles, to test your theory but it's too late.
It already has an answer for you. ...Wait, what? Both of the lines are blue. So...does that mean you're extra not pregnant? You snatch up the pamphlet again, actually reading through the directions this time, and your stomach drops. Pink was never even an option.
Two blue lines. Pregnant.
You knew this week was going a little too well.
Those random bouts of nausea, the weird cravings, the fucking breast tenderness. They didn't need to mean anything. They shouldn't have meant anything.
Fuck. Fuck. What are you supposed to do now? You're way too young to have a baby. Well. Okay, that's a massive lie, but still, you're definitely not ready to have one. Or to be…pregnant. You shudder at the thought.
Swollen ankles, morning sickness, mood swings. You’re already a walking rollercoaster of emotions, and your back hurts from just existing. No, you can’t do this.
It's not about the finances, either. You and Joel both have steady jobs and could make it work if you wanted to, but do you want to? Will he? He’s not your husband, not even your fiancée, so there’s no reason for him to stick around. It’s not his burden.
There's just too many unanswered questions. And Joel's already someone's dad. He did the whole baby thing by himself and got it right the first around.
Sarah's perfect—fuck, what is Sarah going to think? Stupid, this was so stupid. You thought you were being so careful. Sure, Joel cums inside you basically every time you have sex, but that's totally beside the point.
You take those dumb little pills at the same time every day, just like you're supposed to. Except…when’s the last time you had a period? Did you even get it last month? The month before?
Shit, that wedding—when was that wedding? Your coworker’s, the rich one who decided to have a fucking destination wedding in Hawaii a couple months ago. It was decadent. You and Joel were super drunk the entire time and fucked like rabbits for three days straight.
Fuck.
Don't cry. Do not cry. Joel will probably be back from picking Sarah up from soccer practice any minute, so you need to hold it together. Maybe you just won’t tell them, at least not until you’ve had more time to process everything and decide what you’re going to do.
But, god, you wear your emotions on your sleeve, and even more so on your face. They’ll know something’s off the second they look at you, and you won’t be able to talk yourself out of it. You’ve always been a shit liar.
Tears start to fall without your permission. You slump slowly to the floor, pants still around your ankles, and curl up into a ball, willing it all to go away—the tiny clump of cells growing inside your belly and the regret of being so careless, of letting yourself get caught up in a serious relationship in the first place. This isn’t something you can just wish away. It’s life-changing and nothing will ever be the same again. Was it really worth it?
No, no. Of course, it was. Snap out of it.
If only it were that easy. Sobs wrack your entire body, and you can barely hear yourself choking on them, unable to hold them in anymore. Your eyes squeeze shut as you desperately try to block out your reality, but it seeps up your nose and into your mouth, salty and unignorable.
Blood rushes in your ears and you realize belatedly that you’re starting to hyperventilate, but you can’t stop. You’re drawing in too much air all at once and it’s making your vision go fuzzy. It’s all just too much. Anger, sadness, and fear consume you until you’re screaming with it, desperate to expel it from your body any way you can.
So, you don’t hear the front door opening or Joel and Sarah running up the stairs, completely panic-stricken.
Joel reaches the ensuite bathroom first and all but breaks down the door, but he’s met with the sight of your half-naked body in a heap on the floor. Immediately, he turns to block Sarah from getting in.
“Hey, hey—no,” he says firmly, wrapping her up in his arms to keep her from seeing past him. “You’re not goin’ in there. Ya gotta give us some time, alright?”
She looks up at him, scared and visibly shaken.
“What if—do you think she’s okay in there? Was she hurt…d-did you see her?” she asks softly, eyes wet. “Can I see her?”
“Not right now, kiddo,” he mumbles, kicking the bathroom door shut behind him before leading her out of his room and into the hallway. “‘m sorry.”
The crestfallen look on Sarah’s face is the last thing he sees before he closes the door on her. But he has to ignore how badly it feels to keep her away from you, at least until he can figure out what the hell is wrong and how he’s going to fix it.
Your cries have quieted since earlier, but not nearly enough to ease Joel's fears. He can still hear you through the door, hiccuping softly, and opens it gently this time, entering slowly as if he's trying not to spook a scared animal.
It doesn't work as well as he'd hoped. Your head shoots up, a small gasp escaping your lips as you dizzily pull your pants back up.
"Easy there, s'okay. Baby, s'just me, don't worry," he murmurs, dropping to his knees on the floor next to you, but you flinch away. You can only imagine the hurt in his eyes, and the mental image tugs at your heart. "I need ya to tell me what happened. Did ya hurt yourself?"
Yeah, you could say that.
You shake your head, the only thing you're capable of doing in the state you're in. Trying to speak would be useless after all the screaming you just did and you can't bear to look him in the eye.
"Hey, talk to me. If somethin's the matter, I need to know, 'specially if we gotta get you to the hospital," he says, reaching out to touch you.
His hand grazes your shoulder, and your body jerks so viscerally that you slam your knees into the bottom of the sink. You let out a tiny whimper of pain right as you hear something small and plastic hit the ground next to you.
Oh, no. Shit. You desperately try to kick the test out of reach, to cover it with your body—anything to keep him from seeing it—but his fingers wrap around it before you get the chance. He sucks in a harsh breath through his teeth and you feel your whole world shattering.
That's it, then. Even just a glance at those two blue lines will have immediately told Joel all he needs to know. Now he'll leave and he'd have every right. This is all your fault.
Your cheeks are wet again, but this time you can't bring yourself to care. Turning away from him, you curl back into a ball, ignoring the angry throbbing in your knees as you wait for him to yell or throw the test, or finally get up and walk out.
But he doesn't. Instead, you hear him delicately set the test back on the sink and then he lays down behind you on the floor, wrapping his arms around you and pulling your back into his chest.
His heartbeat is fast. It's racing against you and, yet, somehow his breathing is still so calm. The calm before the storm, you're sure of it. You tense, anticipation sitting heavily on your chest and lungs, and he can feel it.
His lips press into the back of your neck and even though the action is so tender and so Joel, you still can’t convince yourself that maybe you’ve misjudged this entire situation. Or that you’ve misjudged him.
“Sweetheart,” he sighs, resting his forehead between your shoulder blades. It hasn’t escaped your notice that he isn’t calling you baby anymore. You can’t tell if that’s for your benefit or his. "Tell me what you're thinkin'."
Time feels like it's moving in slow motion. You really don't mean to ignore him…it’s just that you’re not thinking anything. Lying there in his arms, your mind goes blank, giving in to the white noise of his heartbeat syncopating your own fragile rhythm.
But somehow he seems to understand you completely, filling the silence himself. His voice lulls you into a false sense of security, or…no. No, that’s not right. It’s real. His security, his safety, is real and reliable, proven and palpable.
“Listen to me—I need ya to hear this, alright? I want whatever you want and if ya don’t want this, we’re not doin’ it,” he says firmly, like he means it with every fiber of his being. You do hear him. But your heart and mind are still rebelling, begging you to see their own senseless logic. Joel won’t stop until he convinces them, too.
“But if ya do…if—,” his voice trails off, cracking almost imperceptibly. At least, to anyone else but you. “—if ya wanna do this with me, then ‘m with ya. Every step of the way, ‘m with ya.”
Then, for the first time since those blue lines appeared in your life, you feel peace. And it's all him. He’s given you a choice—one you knew you always had, but never thought to factor him into. You didn’t think you deserved to involve him. But he does. He deserves that choice, too.
The floodgates open and soon you’re sobbing uncontrollably again, but this time it feels cathartic. Like he’s freed you from a prison of your own making. You find your voice, wet and shaky.
“Joel, I’m scared,” you weep, turning in his arms to finally meet his eyes. And there they are. Brown and beautiful and clear, unclouded by fear and regret, and you let them make you brave. For him and your tiny clump of cells.
“What if I can’t do this? What—I…,” you hiccup through the disjointed thought, “—if I give up…if it’s just too hard...”
“S’why there’s two of us,” he bends down to murmur soothingly into your cheek, lips brushing against the corner of your own. “But ya can’t push me away anymore. If we do this, then we do it together,” and that lances straight through your heart, obliterating all doubt and setting your decision in stone.
Together. You’re in this together.
“Okay,” you croak, sniffling as he wipes away your tears. You repeat it, clearer this time. “Okay.”
FRIDAY
"You might think I'm crazy, the way I've been cravin'. If I put it quite plainly, just gimme them babies."
Doctors' offices have no business being as scary as they are. Bare and sterile, and not an ounce of color to be found anywhere but those creepy posters of in-depth diagrams of the human body. Gross.
You fight the urge to turn around and head straight back to the truck but, as if he can sense your plan to make a run for it, Joel places both hands on your shoulders and leads you toward the reception desk.
“C’mon, we got this,” he says quietly in your ear, likely reassuring both of you. “We go in, they tell us you ’n the baby are healthy, then we get out.”
You grimace. The baby. That’s still so weird. There’s literally a tiny being growing inside you, eating your food, and sitting on your fucking bladder. It’s like that thing in Alien that bursts out of people’s chests.
Great. Well, that’s officially off the list for movie night later, which Joel promised you'd have if you got your check-up without trying to escape. Technically, you’re doing great so far. And it’s an extremely tempting offer.
Movie nights at the Miller house usually include a trip to 7/11 for popcorn, soda, and a box of your favorite candy. Those annoying cravings you’re just now realizing are because you’re pregnant would be extremely satiated by that.
You’ll also get to curl up on the couch with Joel all night in a childless house because Sarah's staying at a friend’s. Win-win. But first, you have to make it through this check-up.
Everything up until you’re inside the actual examination room isn’t actually so bad. The receptionist is nice enough, even though you can tell she deals with a lot of first-time moms by the way she treats you with baby gloves, and the wait time is less than 10 minutes.
Yeah, you’ve totally got this. Or at least you did until the doctor shows up with an ultrasound machine and lifts your shirt to squeeze that freezing cold goop all over your stomach. You look up at Joel, scared and a little bewildered, and he takes your hand in his, rubbing soothing circles into your skin. The screen lights up with what you assume is a real-time view of the inside of your belly and, after that, it’s all sort of a blur.
Six weeks. They tell you that you’re already six weeks pregnant, so you definitely conceived at that dumb wedding. At least you’ve got a story to tell. You’re also entering that fun stage where your nausea’s mostly cleared up, but now you’ll either be super tired or super horny at any given time.
You try not to laugh when you feel Joel’s hand subtly twitch in yours. Of course, he perks up at that. Honestly, you’d be a liar if you said you weren’t going to enjoy it, too. Immensely.
Then, comes the big one. The entire point of this doctor’s visit, and the reason you and Joel are gripping each other so tight, you’re cutting off the other’s circulation. But it’s good news. Luckily, it's all good news.
Your tiny clump of cells is healthy, you’re healthy, and you can go home now, equipped with all of that very calming knowledge. One day, you’re going to have to stop calling them a clump, but you’ve decided today is not that day.
“Told ya it wouldn’t be so bad,” he teases as you walk out to the truck, still hand-in-hand.
But his eyes betray his tone. There’s a seriousness to his joy, and you can see it so clearly in the way he’s looking at you like you’ve given him the greatest gift in the world. It makes you feel warm and…important. Loved. He continues, his voice tinged with something a little softer.
“Thank you…for goin’, I mean. S’good to know that everythin’s alright. That you’re alright.”
You stop next to the car, meeting his gaze with what you hope is the same amount of love and affection you see, and throw your arms around his neck.
“Thanks for taking me, and just…being here. Like, really being here, not just showing up so you can say you did,” you say earnestly, and he leans down to kiss you, his arms wrapping around you to pull you close.
“‘Course, baby. Don't have to thank me for that,” he mumbles against your lips.
Not ready to separate from him, you deepen the kiss, running your tongue along his bottom lip until he opens for you and licking into his mouth freely. He groans as you press him into the side of the truck, his hands trailing down your sides to grip the plush of your ass through your jeans.
You can feel him starting to stiffen against your belly and that carnal hunger the doctor warned you about takes over, the need to feel more, more of him overwhelming you. He’s just so solid everywhere.
Your fingers skim underneath his shirt to feel his stomach flexing beneath your palms, and you roll your hips into his, gasping into his mouth at the friction. You’re so caught up in his hands on your body, his tongue in your mouth, that you don’t hear the group of people passing by on the other side of the truck.
But Joel does. He begrudgingly pulls away from you, hard as a rock and panting heavily. You whine at the loss, and he twitches against you in response.
“C’mon, baby, I’m not fuckin’ you in a goddamn Planned Parenthood parkin’ lot,” he chuckles, leading you to the passenger’s side of the car. He smacks your ass when you resist, and you shoot him a wounded glare. “Uh-uh, none’a that. ‘m takin’ you home. Owe ya a movie, don’t I?”
You perk up at the mention of his promise from earlier.
“You sure do. And candy, and popcorn, and soda,” you list off, easily distracted by the prospect of shitty junk food. You bounce into the car, shifting the seat to recline as far as it’ll go. “What are we watching?”
“Whatever you want, baby."
Well, he did say he’d give you whatever you wanted. And for a while, it was the movie—you’d even picked out your favorite. But you only manage to get about 20 minutes in before Joel's arm around your shoulder and chest under your cheek become an unignorable distraction.
Now, you want something else.
You don't bother teasing or playing coy, not when he’s so solidly pressed against you, just begging to be had. Your body rises and falls with every breath he takes, and it’s so visceral, being close enough to touch and taste him, and yet not doing either.
His neck looks especially delicious under the faint, fluorescent lighting of the TV, and your lips press wetly into the underside of his jaw, sucking delicately as your tongue darts out to taste him. His breath hitches, but he shows no other signs of being affected at all.
Taking that as your cue to up the ante, you drop your hand onto his lap to tug at his belt, but he catches you before you can make any progress. You tilt your head back to look up at him, brows furrowed in confusion, but he just smirks, eyes still locked on the TV screen.
"You wanted a movie, didn't ya? Thought ya loved this one," he says teasingly. "You can wait a couple hours—I know ya can."
Yeah, you can, but that doesn't mean you want to. He was so into it in the parking lot, so what happened between then and now? You didn't think he liked this movie that much, but apparently you were mistaken.
Settling back into his side, you try to shift your focus back to the movie, but then the hand on your shoulder starts to play with your hair. His fingers graze your neck, and you're back to squeezing your thighs together in frustration.
He has to be doing this on purpose. Riling you up so much that once the movie’s finally over, you’ll be putty in his hands. Well, two can play that game. If he won't let you touch him, then you'll just have to touch yourself.
Your eyes flutter closed as you run your fingers down your belly, slipping your hand beneath the waistband of your shorts to drag your fingers up and down your slick folds. God, you didn't realize you were already so wet. You gasp softly as you trail upward toward your clit, but Joel's voice startles you out of your reverie.
"Should ya be doin' that right now?"
There's a tinge of warning to his voice, and it burns hot in your veins. You open your eyes slowly and he's finally looking at you, his attention drawn to your fingers still moving under the fabric.
"Well, you weren't gonna. What, are you—," your middle finger brushes against that sensitive bundle of nerves and you bite back a whine, "—you...ngh—gonna stop me?"
The hand that was gently stroking your hair shifts back to firmly grip the back of your neck, squeezing just hard enough to make your fingers stutter. He leans in, his voice dangerously low in your ear.
"No, I'll let ya keep goin'. But you're gonna do exactly what I tell ya to, ya got that?" he murmurs, watching as your hips begin to swivel into your own sweet friction. "'n if you're good for me...," he trails off, eyes dropping down to where he's slowly jerking off his hardening cock through his jeans. "...I'll give ya this. We got a deal?"
You want him inside you so badly, you almost say yes before he's even done talking, but then you have a wicked thought. A counteroffer, of sorts.
"I'll take your deal. But—," you start with a devilish smile, and he raises an eyebrow, waiting for you to continue. "Only if you touch yourself, too. Want you to fuck your hand like you're fucking me."
"Deal," he says without hesitation.
"Deal," you smirk, removing your hand from your pussy for him to shake, your fingers sticky and glistening.
He takes your proffered hand but, instead of shaking, he wraps his lips around your slick digits, sucking you off each one and groaning at your taste. What you wouldn't give to have that tongue in your mouth. Or buried in your cunt. Pulling off with a lewd pop, he nods at your lap.
"Take your fuckin' pants off. Now."
Shit, he doesn't have to tell you twice. You quickly shimmy out of your shorts and underwear, and wait for his next instructions. You'll be a good girl for him. The best girl he's ever had and ever will.
"Spread 'em. Show me how wet you are for me," he mumbles, kicking your legs apart.
You spread them as wide as you can. The cool night breeze filtering in through the open window meets your center, and you're suddenly aware of how much wetter you've gotten since you started. It almost makes your mouth water. You don't think you've ever been this turned on by your own body in your life.
Slick coats your thighs, seeping into the couch, and he looks pleased. You can see he wants to touch you just as badly as you want to touch yourself. Your knee bumps into his thigh and he hooks your leg over his, holding you open.
"Shit, would'ja look at that," he breathes out in awe. "Prettiest pussy I've ever seen."
Your cunt visibly clenches at the praise and he hisses in a breath through his teeth, resting his hand on your thigh so he can lean over your body. He lingers for a moment like he's admiring you laid out for him like this, but then moves a little closer and spits a thick glob of saliva right onto your clit.
Your jaw drops, a loud gasp torn from your chest when he grabs your hand, using your fingers to gather it up and swirl it around your swollen nub. Shit, if he keeps going like this, you're going to cum and fast.
Dropping your head back onto his shoulder, you rock into your fingers, slipping through the mess he's made of your pussy, and your body starts to feel like a rubber band about to snap.
"Wanna taste you so fuckin' bad. Fuck you on my tongue 'til you're nice 'n ready for me," he growls, pressing your fingers harder onto your clit. "S'that what you want? Wanna cum in my mouth?"
You turn to bury your head into the crook of his neck, nodding frantically as you cry into the soothing warmth of his skin. You're going to cum. Fuck, fuck, you're going to cum. Your eyes start to roll back as you feel it crescendo, and then—
Then, he releases your hand, cruelly and unapologetically.
"Not yet, baby. We both gotta be patient, don't we?" he teases you again, and your eyes snap open.
What the fuck. No, you're not letting him edge you again. It was fun and all at the gym, but you're way too far gone to be playing games right now.
And how isn't he a total wreck? Both of his hands are on you, even though that wasn't part of the deal, so he can't be taking care of himself.
Your eyes drop down to his lap, and wow. This man has more willpower than you ever could've imagined. He's so hard, you can see the tip of his cock peeking out above the waistband of his pants. And it's leaking everywhere, twitching and angrily dribbling precum all over the fabric.
He looks...so fucking good like this. Fuck, you want him so bad. But that means getting back on track, and it's obviously on you to make that happen. Clearly, he's more affected by all of this than he made it seem.
"Joel, please, just tell me what to do," you plead. You'll beg if you have to. Whatever it takes for you to finally get what you want.
"Alright, alright," he concedes, taking sympathy on you, likely reaching his limit himself. "'m gonna let you make yourself feel good, baby. Don't'chu worry."
"Great," you grit through your teeth. "Then start by taking your fucking pants off."
He chuckles at his words thrown back at him, but listens, regardless. His boxers and jeans are pulled off in two hard tugs, and his cock bounces against his stomach, thick and wet, and unfairly far from your aching pussy. The hand on your neck moves to gently caress the side of your cheek.
"Gonna start nice 'n slow, ya got that?" he says, biting back a groan as he wraps his fingers around his neglected cock. He starts to pump himself, and more precum leaks out. "Watch me."
But it didn't need to be said. You're already enraptured by the way he strokes himself, slow and steady, swiping his thumb over the head on every upstroke. He's panting softly, trying to keep his hips from jerking up into his fist, but you can see how much effort it's taking not to.
"C'mon, baby. Gimme one finger—your middle finger, all the way in," he commands, his voice as tight as his grip.
You tear your eyes away from him while you run your fingers through your folds, still slick with his saliva and your own desire, and then sink your finger into yourself knuckle by knuckle. It doesn't feel like much, and you both know it, but at least it's something.
"Now, follow me," he says, watching your hand as intently as you're watching his.
You rock your finger in and out slowly, just like he said. Because you're his good girl and good girls do what they're told. It’s already a sticky mess, your finger creamier with every thrust, and he groans out his appreciation.
"Good girl. Add another one. Not too fast, now."
Finally, you get some real relief. Slipping your index finger in alongside your middle finger, you feel that little bit of stretch you've been aching for and you can't help but whimper.
His lips part, brows furrowing as his hand speeds up. His eyes are locked on where your sopping cunt is sucking in your fingers greedily and, fuck, he's even more of a mess now. Sweat dripping from his temples, chest heaving with the effort of holding himself back.
So hot. So fucking hot. It's scorching, the way your cunt feels around your fingers as you fuck into yourself a little faster. They're rubbing your walls just right, your palm grazing your clit after every stroke, and his hyper-focused gaze makes it all feel that much better. You want to hear him say it again. For him to tell you how well you’re doing.
"—ngh...i-is this good?" you whine, knowing how pathetic you sound, but forgetting to care.
"Perfect, baby. You're perfect," he rasps, unable to keep his hips from snapping up into his fist as the sweet sounds of your wet squelching reach his ears. "So fuckin' good for me."
Preening hard at his praise, you push a little too deep into yourself and graze something mind-numbing that almost hurts with how good it feels. You cry out, curling your fingers into it again and again as you bury your face back into his neck. His arm tightens around your shoulder and he leans over to press his lips soothingly against your forehead.
"That's it, baby, just like that. Doin' so well," he groans, lips brushing against your skin. His strokes are frantic now and you know he can’t last much longer. "Need ya to gimme one more. Just one—last one, promise. Then I'll give ya whatever you want."
Nodding quickly, face still cushioned against his shoulder, you add your ring finger, and fucking hell, you’re so full. You stretch your fingers apart, pumping them in and out the best you can, and they drag against that spot—every spot—with how tight you are. But somehow it’s not enough. It’s not Joel’s cock, so it’ll never be enough.
Everything’s drowned out except for the wet sounds of skin on skin, and Joel’s voice, still just above your brow, talking you through your almost painful pleasure. He’s panting, whispering tender words that you can’t hear so much as feel with those soft, perfect lips.
“…tell me when you’re close, baby. Can’t feel ya, gonna need you to use your words,” he barely chokes out, staving off his orgasm, waiting for you.
It’s already close, but you’re only teetering, stuck in a constant loop of almost there, and need more. You can’t reach where you need to, but Joel can. So easily and all you have to do is ask. He said he’d give you whatever you wanted.
But you didn’t realize he was already at his limit, and you don’t get the chance to tell him before he’s babbling, delirious with the need to cum.
"'m sorry—fuck, 'm sorry. Need...to—ngh, fuck, need to cum inside you...fill you up...," he moans, and he sounds upset like he can’t help himself, not anymore.
Abruptly, so much quicker than you can fully process, your fingers are yanked out of your cunt and replaced by his cock, and the thrust is so harsh, he hits exactly where you need him to without even trying. The whine building in your chest erupts as a wail as you immediately lock down around him, sending him over the edge with you.
Full. God, how can you feel this full? You’re so unbelievably aware of him cumming inside you and there’s so much, he’s already leaking out of you. And he almost seems angry about it. Your hips are roughly tilted up so he’s fucking down into you, eyes unfocused, and snarling like a wild animal.
And still so mouthy.
“You got no idea how good ya look right now. Fuckin’ glowin’,” he all but slurs, drunk on the idea of keeping his seed inside you. “S’that my baby in you, makin’ ya glow like that?”
"Oh...oh, god, fuck, Joel,” you whimper, your aftershocks still milking him dry. “Christ, y-you trying to knock me up twice?"
It’s like that alone makes him redouble his efforts. You’ve never seen him like this before, but you like it. Something primal in you wants this as badly as he does.
"Fuck yeah, baby, gonna pump you full'a twins."
Holy shit. You’re not sure if you’re still cumming or if you just came again, but you feel an entirely new rush of pleasure and he hisses out a breath through his teeth like he can feel it. Not long after, sensitivity starts to set in for both of you and he stills, seated deeply inside you, chest heaving and eyes shut tight.
His hands squeeze where they’ve been aggressively gripping your thighs before he reluctantly pulls out, but he keeps your hips tilted up as he drops to sit between your legs on the cushion below.
“There a reason I can’t lay down like a normal person?” you laugh, wiggling in his grasp. “Joel, come on, put me down. I’m already pregnant.”
“Just gimme a minute,” he mumbles, suddenly sounding so solemn. He turns his head from where it's resting on the side of your knee to kiss your damp skin. “Didn’t know I was knockin’ you up the first time, just…lemme have this, alright?”
Your eyes soften. How this man can be such a sap after fucking you like that is beyond comprehension, but if he wants this, then you’ll let him have his moment. It’s kind of sweet, anyway.
“Okay,” you reach up to brush your fingertips along his cheek. It's incredible, really, all of the things you see in Joel's eyes right now. That in this single, fleeting gaze, you can see forever. "Put a baby in me.”
SATURDAY
"Can you stay up all night? Fuck me 'til the daylight. 34, 35."
You’re convinced Joel tastes especially good in the mornings. There’s a hint of sweat to his skin, so naturally bitter and heady, maybe even a little tangy. It’s fucking delicious.
And he’s always hard in the morning. His cock is the perfect alarm clock, always reliable and super effective, whether it’s pulsing against your thigh or rutting into your ass. It’s your favorite way to wake up, but there’s usually not enough time to enjoy it to the fullest.
Not with work and Sarah, even Tommy showing up for breakfast unannounced. But it’s Saturday, which means you can keep your lips wrapped around him for as long as you want, make him cum as many times as you want, and taste him to your heart’s content.
He probably won’t even wake up, at least not right away. Joel sleeps like the dead, especially on the weekends, and it’s been a long week. Even now, as you suck the tip into your wet, very eager mouth and swallow him down halfway, he barely stirs.
That’s more than okay with you. You’d be happy to lie in bed, head pillowed on his stomach, keeping his cock warm between your lips while you wait. Relishing how fucking good he tastes and how your jaw pleasantly aches as you adjust to accommodate his girth.
But, soon enough, your jaw isn���t the only thing aching. The slick mess you’re making in your underwear right now is getting hard to ignore, but you don’t want to let him go. He’s velvety smooth against your tongue, dribbling salty precum down your throat, and his unconscious body is starting to respond to you more and more with each passing moment. This is your favorite part.
He lets out a soft grunt, twitching into the inside of your cheek, and your efforts become a little more concentrated and a lot more obvious. You try to forget about your soaked underwear and the pleasurable whoosh in your belly in favor of sucking a little harder, letting saliva pool in your mouth as you slurp loudly around the head.
His hips jerk up, surprising you enough to gag you, and that only makes your mouth and pussy wetter, the heat building in your core almost unbearable now. The moan that escapes you sends a drawn-out series of vibrations straight down to his balls that pulls even more noise from him, and your head steadily shifts with the rapid rise and fall of his chest.
He's starting to rut into your mouth, whimpering, and yet somehow still asleep, and it makes you feel powerful to have full control over him like this. To command his pleasure without any interruption or intervention, making him fall apart entirely at your mercy. You kind of hope you can get him to cum like this, to be his alarm clock for once.
Turns out only half of your wish is granted, but you don't realize it until Joel's fingers are threading into your hair and abruptly tugging you off. He's definitely awake now, but he also definitely didn't cum. Bummer. You try sucking him back into your mouth, but he tugs you harder even as his hips chase you.
"Joel, what—?" you glare up at him, but upon seeing him, you feel a little bad for your reaction. He looks so sleepy, still a little dazed from his unconventional wake-up call, blinking blearily like he's doing his best to stay awake. Your expression softens.
"Sorry, got a little carried away," you murmur sheepishly. "But, um, you taste really good, so if you wanna go back to sleep, I can just keep—"
You're cut off by a hand trailing down your body, following the curve of your ass to dip inside you. He smears the moisture around your entrance, pushing two fingers into you, then pulling out to hold them up to his face. You watch him, enraptured by the way he inspects your wetness, how it strings between his middle and ring fingers.
Then, he surprises you even further by sucking them into his mouth, his eyes rolling back as he groans around them before slipping them out totally clean. His cock jerks next to your face and you belatedly realize you're drooling.
"Fuck, so do you." He's fully awake now, eyes clear, but dark. Hungry.
"Huh?" you ask dumbly.
"Ya taste really good," he mumbles, his voice low and so sexy, still thick with sleep. You feel your cheeks heat up. Oh.
"C'mere, baby," he tells you, patting his chest. You crawl up his body and lean up to kiss him, assuming he wants you to taste yourself in his mouth, but he stops you. "Other way, sweetheart."
Your brows furrow in confusion as you try to work out exactly what he's asking for. Even though you've been awake and riling him up for what feels like hours, your brain clearly hasn't caught up yet. His eyes are unreadable, fingers tense at his sides. Like he's just itching for you to understand.
"Need you to figure this out—know you can do it," he rasps needily. "C'mon, smart girl, what do I want?"
And then it hits you. He's not asking you to sit on his chest, not really. He wants you to sit on his face. Needs you to. Sprawled out on your hands and knees where his spit-slick cock would be just within reach, bobbing temptingly with every breath he takes.
God, you want to. The idea of Joel fucking you with his tongue while he's fucking into your mouth makes you clench so hard it hurts. You bite your lip, meeting his expectant gaze.
Okay. Okay, you can definitely do that. Especially when he looks so...eager. It also has the double advantage of combining mind-blowing sex with a well-rounded breakfast. You have a feeling you'll both be full after this.
"Just so I have this straight—," you splay your fingers across his stomach, trailing down to wrap tightly around his length and tug upward until a single, perfect bead of precum leaks from his slit, "—you still want my mouth here."
Your eyes stay locked on his as you bend down to lick it off, lingering to suckle the tip and tease your tongue just under the ridge. When he doesn't immediately tug you off, you take him deeper, preening at his harsh intake of breath.
You don't want to press your luck, but he tastes fucking incredible, somehow even better than he did earlier. Maybe it's the way he's watching you, captivated and attuned to your every movement.
He’s already starting to buck into you, shallowly, now an active participant in his own pleasure. His knuckles are nearly white with how hard he’s fisting the sheets, teeth gritting as he fights the urge to rush you.
But his patience is wearing thin. Just a few thrusts later, he tugs you off with what feels like dwindling restraint, and your dazed, glassy eyes don't do much to help.
You look wrecked, and you know it. Lips swollen and slick with saliva, your lashes wet with unshed tears from the effort of taking him. He reaches out to trace your bottom lip with his thumb, hissing when you catch the tip between your teeth.
“Yeah...ngh—yeah, keep doin' that. Suckin' me just like that," he breathes raggedly. "And sit that pretty pussy right here—"
Then, without warning, he's suddenly manhandling you into position, throwing your leg over his head, and maneuvering you until you can feel him panting heavily against your cunt.
“Down, baby, let's go. Wanna taste ya. Now.”
Blunt nails dig into your skin and your hips stutter, dipping low enough for your clit to brush his bottom lip. It’s enough for him to get a taste of you. For him to finally snap and decide he’s done waiting.
Joel yanks you onto his face, licking a wide stripe from your clit to your entrance, his tongue immediately finding a home in your pussy. The motion knocks you off balance and you fall forward, his cock just inches from your mouth.
Bracing a hand on his stomach, you wrap your other around him and he groans throatily in response, the sound deep and muffled as he licks into you with increased fervor. And his noises only grow in volume, vibrating against your folds and sending jolt after jolt into your very sensitive bundle of nerves.
His mouth feels so fucking hot, and the coarseness of his beard burns, making it hard to concentrate on what you’re desperately trying to accomplish. You’re already panting, hiccuped breaths puffing teasingly and cruelly against him until he’s pulsing in your grip.
The promise of him throbbing just like that down your throat makes you focus just long enough to take him back into your mouth, intent on sucking him down as far as your body will let you. But, by now, any sense of self-control he might’ve had before is totally gone. His hips buck clean off the mattress at the tightness of your lips around him, and he all but chokes you with the force of it, the size of him.
And, fuck, you love it. The way his stomach tenses, his thighs trembling beneath you. You can’t tell where your body ends and his begins, not when he’s fucking into you every single way he can. His tongue spears into you and your pussy rhythmically squeezes him every time his cock grazes the back of your throat.
You’re audibly gagging around him and it’s filthy as hell, but you can tell how much it’s turning him on. Christ, can you tell. Maybe you were genuinely worried you’d suffocate him at first but, now, you probably couldn’t stop yourself from grinding into his face even if you tried. And that's exactly what he wants.
"...Harder—mmph, c'mon, baby," you feel him groan into your cunt, urging your hips even lower. "—ride me harder, harder."
How—he...fuck, he's...? Everywhere. He's everywhere. You struggle to do what he told you, to use him for your mounting pleasure, but it doesn't fucking matter anymore. You're helpless but to let him do whatever he wants to you.
Joel’s devouring you. Roughly grabbing your ass, moaning pathetically into you as he pulls your cheeks apart for better access. It’s almost like you can feel him swelling between your lips, and you try to pull up for just a second of respite.
But, then, he abruptly shifts. His mouth lowers to suck gently, yet fleetingly on your clit twice, then he licks a wide stripe back up to your entrance. Except, he doesn’t stop there. Instead, he continues his path up, gathering your wetness as he goes, and swirls his tongue around your other hole before sucking hard. And it sends you reeling.
Jesus fucking Christ, that’s new. Fuck, and it’s—so...so good. It’s indescribable, how he feels right now. How he sounds—slurping you up, whimpering desperately like he’ll cum at any moment.
And he’s loud, drawn-out moans escaping from so deep within his chest, they climb their way from that tight ring of muscle straight up your spine, where you can vaguely feel his arm snaking around you to claw at your back. You can’t think anymore—you’re done thinking.
Now, it’s just him trapping you in place, the three fingers he’s suddenly pumping into your spasming pussy, and his cock, now abandoned and leaking on his stomach. It’s so much, bordering on too much, and you can’t hold yourself up anymore.
Your head drops unceremoniously onto the puddle of precum and it smears across your cheek as his hips urgently roll into nothing. But you don’t even notice. Not even when your eyes roll back and you start to babble deliriously, your orgasm building quickly in a place between your legs you can’t even begin to explain.
“Joel…JoelJoelJoel—I…you…,” you slam a hand down on the mattress as your thighs start to quake violently. “…cumming—‘m cumming, fuck—fuck.”
It doesn’t just crash over you, it rocks you to your core. Everything below your waist locks down, squeezing his fingers so tight, you swear you can feel each individual knuckle. Your jaw drops, parting around what feels like a silent scream, but you can’t be totally sure because soon, Joel is groaning so gutturally, you can’t focus on anything else.
At least, until he cums completely untouched right into your face. And he cums hard. Thick spurts cover your lips and chin, landing haphazardly on your cheek, and your tongue darts out to taste him, salty and sated and perfect. Exactly what you've been waiting for.
His thighs tense intermittently, a few more drops dribbling out of his slit, and you crane your neck, letting your tongue flutter over his head. As it pulses weakly against your lips, Joel gasps out your name, burying his face in your swollen pussy again.
Lazily, you swivel your hips into his mouth despite the extreme overstimulation, hiccuping soft moans and nearly succumbing to the easy pleasure. He gently caresses your clit, enveloping you with a dextrous warmth that simultaneously makes you jolt and crave the sensation.
Neither of you want to stop. Truthfully, you'd let him do this to you all day, drawing orgasm after orgasm from each other the way you have been all week. But exhaustion's starting to set in and you're not sure your body can physically take any more.
Joel slaps your ass and you huff out a soft laugh, deciding it's time to separate so you can get cozy with him again. The perfect end to your surprisingly athletic, lazy Saturday morning in bed.
“You gonna stop anytime soon, or do you just live there now?” you pant teasingly, grimacing as you slowly lift your head off his stomach.
Shit, you’re a mess. You’re practically stuck to him, his cum drying on his stomach and your face, and you can feel the stickiness of his saliva mixed with your juices dripping between your legs. His hand trails from your ass down to your inner thigh, painting mindless patterns on your sullied skin.
"Sure don't seem like ya want me to stop," he chuckles tiredly, managing to suck your clit chastely one last time before you jerk your hips away.
His head finally drops onto the pillow below him, and he lets out a disgruntled whine when you toss your leg over his head, plopping down on the bed beside him.
"Yeah, well, one of us has to have a little self-control or we're not leaving this bed today. And you, uh, look like you could use some tidying up,” you snort, scratching your fingertips against his already crusting beard. He mimics the motion on your leg, and you swat his hand away, rolling your eyes fondly.
It would be disgusting if it were literally anyone else but Joel but, here in this bed—your bed—it feels so natural. Like it’s totally normal that you’d be covered in each other’s releases, having a silly conversation on a Saturday morning as if you’ve done this all your lives.
“Might wanna look in the mirror, baby. I’d be more’n happy to keep lookin’ at ya like this, but—,” he leans up to wipe a streak of cum off your bottom lip. His hand lingers, cupping your damp cheek, and you instinctively lean into his touch. “—you probably need more cleanin’ up than I do.”
You eye each other for a few seconds, taking in how truly disgusting you both are, before bursting into fits of laughter. You’re smiling so hard, your skin tugs under his drying release and that makes you laugh even harder.
“Alright, alright, filthy girl,” he jokes, wiping a stray tear from his eye. “Lay down, I’ll take care of ya.”
He sits up and slowly slides off the bed, yanking your legs out from under you as he goes. Still giggling, you flop onto the damp, cotton sheets with an oomph and immediately take the opportunity to stretch out your sore limbs. You nuzzle into your pillow with a soft mewl, practically purring as you try to soak up the warm morning rays streaming through the gaps in the curtains.
You glance over at Joel as you continue to nest like a gigantic cat, but he's already watching you, paused in the doorway to the bathroom. His eyes rove appreciatively down your naked body and you observe him quietly, deciding you'll let him stare for as long as he wants to. There's no rush. Sure, you're still a mess and probably have the worst bedhead imaginable, but despite it all, he makes you feel beautiful.
When he returns with a cool, damp washcloth a few minutes later, he's much cleaner and you're only a little bummed that the evidence of your explosive morning is gone. He's gentle and attentive as he wipes the remaining streaks off your cheeks and chin, and bends down to kiss you once your face is officially cum-free.
Okay, maybe you lied earlier. This is your favorite part. Joel taking care of you, choosing to express his affection through his actions and touch. You sigh into his mouth, melting into the first real kiss you've shared since waking up, and it takes his tongue tangling with yours for you to realize he tastes minty. He's always so delicious.
Trailing further down, he wipes his release off your stomach, pressing his lips to each freshly-cleaned inch of skin, and then crawls between your legs to wash away the mess he made of your thighs. Your eyes start to flutter closed at the repetitive shift in sensation, his hands lulling you to sleep, until the washcloth hits the floor with a dull splat.
Well, that was over way too soon. But you quickly forgive the horrible transgression once his warm, welcome body sinks into the bed next to you, and his tousled head of hair and beard nuzzle into your stomach.
He mouths at your skin, his lips pressing sweetly around your belly button, and it tickles, making you laugh as you thread your fingers through his curls and scratch his scalp affectionately.
After a moment of comfortable silence, his hand splays warm and broad next to his head. His expression shifts and he looks unexpectedly pensive. Uncertainty creeps into your chest before you can logic it away, even though you know without a doubt that he wants this. His lips begin to move against your stomach and it takes a second for you to realize he's saying something, almost too quietly for you to hear. But when it finally registers, all of that fear completely fades away.
"Hey there, kiddo. It's me, your daddy," he murmurs, his thumb rubbing circles into your skin as soothing as his words. He has the tiniest smile on his face, and it's growing wider by the second. "We're all so excited to meet ya. Me, your momma, your big sister, your uncle...we already love ya so damn much."
The room starts to blur into a wash of colors and figures, and shit, you're crying. But how could you not be? He's...talking to your tiny clump of cells. To your baby—who can't possibly be bigger than a pumpkin seed—with so much adoration, it makes your chest ache.
You're trying so hard not to tremble or sniffle or breathe too heavily so you don't startle him, but that doesn't exactly work out. A few stray tears make their way up your nose, and you snort around your next inhale. Classic, clumsy you.
Joel's head shoots up like he's been caught and his cheeks flush that beautiful shade of burgundy you love so much. You don't want him to stop, but he looks so embarrassed like he thinks he's done something wrong. That couldn't be further from the truth.
"I'm just emotional from the hormones, it's totally fine. I'm totally fine," you give him a reassuring, watery grin. "Keep going. I think they like the sound of daddy's voice."
He chuckles and reaches up to wipe your tears away, gently cradling your face in his hand before he slides it back down to your belly. He continues where he left off, just like you asked, but you have a sneaking suspicion he would've anyway. Joel's just one of those men who was born to be a dad. It comes as naturally to him as breathing.
“Heard that? That's your momma, kiddo. She's....well. She's somethin' else. Strongest, most lovin', person I've ever known and fuckin' sharp as a tack," he smiles up at you, eyes crinkling and bright as the goddamn sun. "And she's beautiful. She even sounds beautiful, don't she? Hopin' you'll come out just like her."
You scoff affectionately, shaking your head as you share a look that tells you he knows exactly what you're thinking. If this baby pops out without his brown eyes and curls, you're going to be so pissed. You teasingly tug his hair, willing him to take it back, but he won't. If your baby's getting anything from the two of you, it's stubbornness.
Then, before you can blink, there's a sudden tone shift. His hand finds yours, lacing your fingers together, and he turns his head so he's speaking directly into your belly. An exchange just between a father and his child.
"Wanna know a secret? S'just between you and me, though, alright? Don't go tellin' your momma," he says nosing into your soft skin, his voice barely above a whisper. You watch him curiously, squeezing his hand to get his attention, but his focus remains on your stomach. "'m gonna ask your momma to marry me. Think she'll say yes?"
Your heart stops and it feels like all of the air's been sucked out of the room. That's—fuck...that's one hell of a secret to share with your baby. You can't even imagine the kind of trouble they're going to get up to if they're already keeping secrets like that.
His eyes flit up to meet yours, but they're not questioning or expectant. He isn't wondering what your answer will be. He just looks peaceful. Blanketed in an easy calm because he already knows what you're going to say. Of course, he does.
Propping his chin on your hip, Joel quietly observes your reaction while he strokes the back of your hand with the rough pad of his thumb. You wonder what he sees on your face and in your body language right now because you're positive it's not the elation or excessive joy anyone else would expect.
You're not squealing or jumping up and down, or whatever newly engaged people usually do. No, that blanket of easy calm is more than big enough for both of you, and it feels safe and warm, just like you always knew this moment would.
And you wouldn't want it any other way. Lying here together after possibly the most eventful week of your lives, filled with so much sex and love and family, and deciding that you want to keep doing this together, over and over. Forever.
You guide his hand up to your lips, pressing a firm, lingering kiss to his palm, before placing it over your racing heart. That tiny smile returns to his face and he crawls up your body so he can kiss you properly, conveying his love better than words ever could.
It's still way too early for your baby to kick or give their daddy any sort of sign that they heard his question, but you're sure they wouldn't mind if you answered for them. It's a no-brainer, anyway.
"Yeah, I do."
thanks for reading! 💕
#joel miller x reader#joel miller x you#joel miller smut#joel miller fluff#joel miller angst#joel miller#tlou fanfiction#the last of us fanfiction#pedro pascal characters
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My Past, My Present, My Future
Pairing: Dean Winchester x reader, Endverse!Dean x reader
Summary: You get dragged to the future along with Dean to witness the aftermath of the apocalypse. Follows the plot of "The End" (Season 4, Episode 4)
Warnings: mentions of death, canon violence, cursing, use of pet names. SMUT, oral (F receiving), unprotected sex (P in V), dirty talk.
A/N: If I tell you too much, it'll ruin the story...enjoy!
It had been 2009 when you and Dean had fallen asleep in a hotel in Kansas City. You were awoken by the sound of your boyfriend's voice muttering "What the hell?"
You opened your eyes to find yourself in a completely trashed room--it looked like an actual bomb had gone off. It took you a moment to realize it was the same room you'd fallen asleep in.
"Dean?" you asked in confusion.
He was staring out the window, so you joined him, the two of you now staring out a what remained of the city.
"What happened?" you whispered.
"I have no idea." He looked back at you, worry etched into his face. "We should get moving. See if we can find anyone else."
As the two of you walked through the city streets, you found yourselves completely alone--that is, until you came across a little girl crouched in an alleyway all alone.
As the little girl attacked Dean, you saw the word "Croatoan" painted on a brick wall. Dean defended himself, knocking the girl unconscious.
You simply pointed to the word, a look of dread on your face. Dean's gaze followed your finger and the same expression crossed his features.
"Shit," he muttered.
Suddenly, a group of infected people rounded the corner and spotted the two of you. You both took off running, desperate to avoid becoming their next meal.
"Dead end!" you yelled at Dean, but neither of you had time to figure out your next move. The infected people are still behind you when a heavily armed military unit opened fire on the group.
The commotion gave you and Dean the time you needed to escape. The two of you stayed hidden until nightfall. When you emerged, you noticed a sign on the fence surrounding the entrance to the city.
"Dean," you said softly, pointing to the sign. "Croatoan Hot Zone."
He stepped forward to get a better look. "August 1st, 2014? How...?"
"Great," you muttered. "So we're in the future."
"Apparently...and it ain't pretty."
You shared a look and muttered "Angels," in unison.
You managed to find an abandoned car that still had gas, so Dean hot-wired it and the two of you sped off. You were desperately trying to find a cell signal or even a radio signal when Zachariah made an appearance in the backseat of the car.
"I thought I smelled your stink on this Back to the Future crap," Dean growled.
In response, Zachariah simply began to read a Newspaper he'd brought with him. The headlines were dark, detailing some of the terrible events that had occurred in this morbid future.
"How the hell did you find us?" Dean asked in annoyance.
"Human informants from some of the fringier religious groups," Zachariah answered.
"That guy on the street last night," you said to Dean, who nodded.
"Send us back. Now," Dean demanded.
"No can do. The two of you are staying put in 2014 for a few days so you can see exactly what happens to the world if Dean continues to say no to Michael."
"You're an ass," you muttered.
Dean smirked a little. "As much as I love having (Y/N/N) as my copilot, why'd you have to drag her into this?"
"Don't worry, she'll be fine," Zachariah said with a wave of his hand. "She's here because she might be the only person who can convince you to do the right thing. She needs to see just how bad it gets almost as much as you need to."
Before either you or Dean could respond, Zachariah disappeared, zapping himself back to wherever the hell he hung out.
"Have I mentioned how much I hate angels?" you mumbled under your breath.
Dean simply nodded. "Me too, sweetheart."
"Where we headed?"
"Bobby's."
You kept your thoughts to yourself. Dean didn't need you to tell him it was unlikely Bobby had survived this, especially being wheelchair-bound. He wasn't a fool, but you knew it was better to let him have just a little bit of hope.
**********
As expected, Bobby's house was empty, save for his wheelchair and an absolute mess of junk. Dean was silent as he surveyed the room, putting the wheelchair back upright with a sad sigh.
He went to the mantel behind Bobby's desk and pried it open, pulling out Bobby's old journal. In it, he found a picture of several men with shotguns posing in front of a sign for Camp Chitaqua, Bobby and Cas among them.
He held the picture up for you to see and you exhaled softly. "Road trip?"
He nodded and the two of you headed for the camp. You managed to sneak past the guards, but as you were making your way farther into the camp, Dean grabbed your arm.
You followed his gaze and realized his once-beautiful Impala was parked off to the side completely junked out.
"Oh not you too, Baby," he whispered as he leaned forward to inspect the car.
You would have laughed if you hadn't been staring down the barrel of your own future.
"Dean--" the rest of your sentence was silenced as you fell to the ground, knocked unconscious by someone behind you.
The man was fast enough that both you and Dean were unconscious without a single sound.
When your eyes fluttered open some time later, you found yourself seated in a wooden chair, wrists gently bound to the arms. You saw Dean sitting on the floor a few feet away from you, arms cuffed to a ladder bolted to the floor. He wasn't moving and you whispered his name in worry.
"So you're awake." Had you not been staring at Dean when you heard the voice, you would have been certain it had been him talking.
You looked around, jaw dropping as Dean stepped out from his place against the wall behind you. It was Dean, but it wasn't your Dean. His face looked a little more haggard and the light in his eyes was dimmed almost to extinction.
"Who--how--?" you tried to ask.
"I could ask you the same question."
You looked back over at Dean's unconscious form and the other Dean sighed.
"He'll be fine...as long as you answer some questions. I know neither of you are some kind of supernatural creature--trust me, I tried all the tests. But he carries every weapon on him that I do and well--there's a striking resemblance." He trailed off for a moment. "Then there's you...any chance you can explain why you look like my dead wife's identical twin?"
You were saved from responding by the sounds of your Dean stirring. "What the hell?" he muttered as he realized he was cuffed in place.
"Thanks for joining us," the other Dean stated. "I was just asking your friend here why you look like my doppelgänger. Care to share?"
Dean looked between you and the older version of himself and sighed slowly. "Probably because I am you--well, the you from 2009. And she's (Y/N) from 2009. We were dragged here to 2014 courtesy of Zachariah."
Future Dean nodded. "Sounds like something he would do. He always was a dick."
You smirked a little, appreciating that somethings never changed. However, your mind was still reeling from the words Future Dean had said to you mere seconds before your Dean had woken up...dead wife.
"As much as I'd like to believe you, I need to be sure." Future Dean crouched down in front of your Dean, eyes narrowed slightly. "Tell me something only we would know."
Your Dean flicked his gaze to you for a moment before turning back to meet his own stare. "We were 19. Rhonda Hurley made us try on her satin panties. They were pink. And you know what? We kinda liked it."
You giggled lightly at his admission and Future Dean cracked a small smile and muttered, "Touché."
Future Dean stood back up, turning his attention to you. You were surprised to see the sadness in his green eyes--a look you'd only ever seen once before.
"You haven't looked at me like that since Jo and Ellen died," you said softly.
Future Dean grimaced. "A lot has happened in the past five years, (Y/N). I carry a hell of a lot more weight than I did in 2009."
You waited for him to continue, as you knew he would.
"A lot of shit happened--really bad shit. The apocalypse, demons, releasing the Croatoan virus...we lost a lot of good people, people I cared about." He sighed heavily and ran a hand over his face. "Three years ago, a small team of us tried to infiltrate a demon lair in an attempt to get Lucifer's location. I led one team, (Y/N) led the other. I don't know how, but they knew we were coming. I couldn't get my whole team out, but (Y/N)--she-she fought until the very end. She made certain her whole team made it out of there alive."
Your breath caught in your chest as you let his words sink in. You could hear the heartbreak in his voice, even though it was obvious he was trying to hide it. Your Dean let out a soft pained sound and you felt the strong urge to go to him, but the ropes around your wrists held you in place.
Future Dean continued, "When I found out they'd left her behind, I went back...the demons had already cleared out, having gotten what they wanted. I found her..." He trailed off, gaze finally raising to meet yours. "I found you...broken and bleeding. I held you in my arms as you took your last breath. I carried you back home and I built your pyre. I wouldn't let anyone else near you. I lost something that day I could never replace, and it changed me forever."
"Dean," you whispered softly. Tears filled your (y/e/c) eyes as you stared into his mossy green ones. "I'm so sorry."
He almost laughed at your response. "I just told you that you die because of me and you're the one who's sorry?" He let out a pained chuckle. "You always did love me more than I deserved."
Your expression was soft and your smile even softer. "I don't blame you. It doesn't matter why or how it happened--it wasn't your fault. I make my own choices, as you well know. So if I chose to stay behind to save other people, then that was my decision and the consequences are for me to bear."
He closed his eyes for a few moments, allowing your words to wash over him. He'd never even imagined he would have the pleasure of hearing your voice again, let alone see your smile, or hear your laugh. He felt his armor crack just enough that a sliver of the Dean you had always loved shone through. It terrified him, your ability to affect him even now, but he knew his love for you had never dimmed and never would.
"What about Sam?" your Dean asked, breaking the silence.
"There was a heavy weight showdown in Detroit a few years back. From what I heard, Sam didn't make it out."
"From what you heard?" Dean asked in shock. "You mean you weren't with him?"
"We hadn't spoken since 2009."
You had your own opinions on Dean's decision to part ways with Sam and you'd been very vocal about it. You could tell by your Dean's expression that he was shocked and guilty about how that decision had played out.
Future Dean turned his gaze to you and you saw the same regret in his eyes that you'd seen in your Dean's. But something about his expression and the intensity of his gaze made you wonder if he was regretting the same thing as your Dean.
Future Dean exhaled slowly and averted his eyes again, pulling his invisible mask back down. "I have a mission, so I have to go. The two of you are going to stay here for the time being. I can't have the younger version of me running around the camp and there are quite a few people here that remember you, (Y/N). So stay here and don't cause any trouble."
You shot a look to your Dean who grumbled something about being left chained up. Future Dean gave you one last sad look before going out the door and leaving you two behind.
"How long until you get yourself out of those cuffs?" you teased softly.
"How long until you squeeze your hands out of that rope future me barely tied?" Dean sniped back.
You smiled and shifted your left hand so you could grab ahold of the knot Future Dean had tied. It took you less than 10 seconds to get it untied and even fewer to release your other hand.
Dean shot you a grin. "That's my girl."
You rolled your eyes, scanning the room for something to pick the handcuff lock with. "You're the one who didn't tie them tightly."
"Future me," he emphasized. "Clearly he's got a soft spot for you."
You smirked. "So do you." Your eyes landed on a small pen knife sitting on the table. You grabbed it, holding it up for him to see.
His eyes sparkled with several different emotions and you knew he was reeling from everything you'd just learned. Hell, you were busy compartmentalizing all of your emotions so you didn't fall apart.
"Yeah," he whispered. "I do."
You offered him a sweet smile before leaning down to his level and picking the lock on his cuffs with the pen knife. As soon as he was free, you helped him to his feet.
"Okay, I'm gonna go have a look around," he said. "You stay here."
"Dean--" you started to protest.
"Hey, it's not like I don't want you with me, but you heard what future me said...there are people here who will recognize you--people who know you're dead."
You sighed, knowing he was right. "Fine. Why don't you go first, make sure it's clear, then I'll follow you."
Dean glared at you for a long moment, before his expression softened. He knew this wasn't a battle he was going to win. "Alright. Just stay out of sight, okay? I don't need one of these trigger-happy yahoos shooting you because they think you're a monster or something."
You nodded your agreement and Dean slowly opened the door to the cabin. You stay inside until he beckoned you to join him. You stayed close to the edge of the cabin as you waited for him to gesture for you to follow.
Just as Dean rounded the corner, Chuck Shirley stepped directly into his path, stopping him in his tracks. You stayed back, back pressed against the side of the cabin.
"Uh, hey there Chuck," Dean said.
Chuck started to ask him about what they should do about a shortage of perishable items and hygiene products before realizing Dean was supposed to be out on a mission.
"Yeah, I-uh-I was gonna head out now," Dean lied.
Suddenly, a woman crossed into your field of vision and swung a punch and a kick at Dean. He jumped back and grabbed Chuck, pulling him in-between himself and the angry woman.
Your instincts screamed for you to help him, but you knew you needed to stay hidden. You listened as the woman, Risa, yelled at Dean for spending the night in another woman's cabin the night before.
"You said we had a connection," she snapped.
You almost laughed at that--it was exactly the kind of thing Dean would say to a woman to appease her.
You watched as Risa angrily stomped away and Dean exhaled in relief. He quickly asked Chuck if Cas is around and he gestured to a cabin close by. "I don't think he's going anywhere," Chuck said lightly as he walked off.
As soon as he was out of sight, Dean's gaze landed on you and he waved at you to follow him. You followed closely behind as he entered the cabin, staying just out of sight of anyone inside.
You could hear Cas's voice, but it sounded different than you remembered it being--softer and maybe even lazier than before.
He must have spotted Dean because you heard him acknowledge him as their "fearless leader". You heard Cas tell the women in the room to wash up and prepare for the orgy.
A group of girls walked by you and Dean as you both step into the room.
"Orgy?" Dean asked incredulously.
Castiel simply shrugged as he regarded both of you. "(Y/N)," he murmured quietly. "This is a surprise."
You sighed. "I'd imagine so. I hear I'm dead."
"Indeed you are." Castiel's gaze landed on Dean. "And you're not the Dean of this time. When are the two of you from?"
"2009," you answered.
"Zachariah sent us here," Dean added.
"Ahh," Cas mumbled. "I shouldn't be surprised."
"Okay, so nice to see you and all that, but can you zap us back please?" Dean asked.
Cas giggled slightly and Dean's gaze narrowed in annoyance.
"Dude, are you stoned?"
"Generally, yeah," Cas replied.
Dean looked over at you, but you were just as surprised as he was. You shrugged and Dean let out a quiet groan.
"I don't have powers anymore," Cas said simply. "When the end came, the angels just left...bored with their playthings, I guess. When they left, so did my powers."
"Oh great," Dean muttered.
"Dean," you said in a warning tone. "Don't."
Cas smiled at you and crossed the room to give you a hug. You were a little surprised, but you returned the gesture.
"It's good to see you, (Y/N). You were always the only person who could keep Dean in line."
You couldn't help the chuckle that escaped you at his words. "We've had the pleasure of meeting the Dean of this time. I imagine he's not exactly one to defer to anyone."
For a moment Castiel's expression grew wistful, as if remembering a better time. "He used to, but he changed rather significantly when you died. It's been three years and he still hasn't gotten over your death. He's not the same Dean you knew."
You glanced at your Dean and exhaled softly. "Knowing him, he's just hid that part of himself so far down he's forgotten it even exists."
Dean's gaze met yours and you knew you were right. You could see it is eyes--he knew exactly what losing you would do to him. He knew the kind of man he would become.
Cas glanced back and forth between the two of you and shook his head. "You always could read each other's minds. It's nice to see that again. But I am curious, how did our Dean handle meeting the two of you?"
"Not well," you admitted.
"Pretty sure he was happier to see you than he was to see me," Dean muttered.
You chuckled mildly. "Well I'm the dead one, so it seems fitting."
Dean winced and you placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. He tried to smile at you, but the pain in his gaze ensured the expression didn't meet his eyes.
Before any of you could utter another word, the sound of trucks pulling up sounded from outside the cabin. You let Dean walk out first, followed by Cas. You opted to remain in the shadows just inside the doorway. You could see what was happening outside without being noticed.
You saw Future Dean getting out of one of the trucks and tossing a beer to another man. They cracked them open and the other man turned his back on Dean.
You watched in horror as Future Dean raised his pistol, pointing it at the man's back. Your Dean ran out, yelling for him to stop, but it was too late. Future Dean pulled the trigger and the man fell to the ground.
Future Dean whirled around, coming face to face with your Dean, eyes full of anger. As Dean began to argue with Future Dean, you ran out in an attempt to calm both men. Castiel grabbed your arm, stopping you in your tracks.
The gasps and shocked faces of the people around you reminded of you of the position you'd just put yourself in. Most people were staring at your Dean in confusion, but several gazes had landed on you. You recognized a few of the faces and you knew in your heart these people had known you--the other you.
Future Dean gestured to your Dean and said, "Me and him--it's messed up, okay? But if you need to know something, then I'll tell you when you need to know it."
As Future Dean glanced around, he noticed some people were not looking at him--or at his doppelgänger. He followed one person's gaze and his body froze when his eyes landed on you. Even though he'd known you were here, it was still painfully jarring to see you.
What was worse, was he wasn't sure how to explain your presence--too many people had known you. A few of them had been there when you'd died.
You locked eyes with Future Dean and your heart ached for him. You could see the turmoil in his eyes and the difficulty he was having formulating any kind of words to address your presence. He might not be your Dean, but you still loved him--after all, he was the man your Dean would one day become.
You stepped forward, gently pulling yourself from Castiel's grasp. "Dean," you whispered softly, sad eyes meeting his.
"Some of you might remember my wife, (Y/N)," Future Dean said calmly. "I'm not prepared to explain her presence to all of you, but just know that she's not here to cause any harm."
His statement seemed to appease most of the small gathering, but you saw some darker expressions cross the faces of a few people in the crowd.
Future Dean stepped forward and grabbed your Dean by the jacket, practically dragging him towards his cabin. His gaze landed on you and he gestured for you to follow.
"Didn't I tell both of you to stay put?" he growled as he closed the door behind him.
Your Dean began to argue, but he was silenced by Future Dean's anger.
"He was infected, okay? I've been doing this a long time and you learn to see the signs. I did what I had to do."
"We know that," you said softly.
Both men looked at you in surprise, but your gaze was firmly on Future Dean's face. You wanted him to know you understood--you weren't even sure why.
"You didn't need to kill him in front of everyone," your Dean commented.
Future Dean's gaze cut to him like a blade. "Yeah because seeing my freaking clone and my dead wife was so much better."
Your Dean opened his mouth to continue the argument, but Future Dean cut him off.
"The last thing these people need is to see me arguing with you, okay? They're twitchy survivors who can't handle this. This is my time, not yours, so stay in your lane."
Dean backed off, realizing Future Dean was right. He was nothing more than an observer in this time and he needed to act like it.
Future Dean pulled out three glasses and poured a drink for each of you. Your eyes scaned his face, keen senses picking up on the emotions clearly stirring beneath the calm surface. You wanted to talk to him, get him to open up, but you knew this wasn't the time.
"So what was the mission for?" you asked gently.
Future Dean gave you an appreciative look. "Five years of searching--five long years and I finally found it." He pulled something out of his jacket and laid it on the table. "The Colt."
"How?" your Dean asked in surprise.
"Demons have been moving it around for years, but we finally got good intel on its location."
You felt uneasy as you regarded him. You couldn't read him as well as you could your Dean, but you knew he was thinking about something--something you weren't going to like. "What's your plan?" you asked warily.
"Tomorrow night," he said, dark gaze fixed on your face, "I'm gonna kill the devil."
Shock lit up both your's and your Dean's faces. "We have no idea if the Colt's gonna work!" you protested, fear lacing your voice.
"It's our only shot and I'm gonna take it," he countered.
You glanced at your Dean and you could tell he didn't like the sound of this plan any more than you did. Sure, you both wanted to find the Colt in your time and kill the devil so none of this would happen, but there was no way to know if it would work. No one had ever tried it on an archangel before.
"Can I speak to my wife alone for a moment?" Future Dean asked, further shocking you both.
"I, uhh--" you stuttered.
Your Dean looked at you sympathetically, a sad expression settling onto his face. You knew what the look meant, so you weren't surprised to hear him agree. He stepped outside, leaving you and Future Dean alone.
"You know it's hard for me," he began, "seeing you after all this time."
"It's not easy on me either," you admitted, "seeing the man you become...and knowing I'm not going to be with you much longer."
He looked down in shame. "I know I'm not the man you love." He gestured to where your Dean stood outside. "I'm not him. But I have never stopped loving you--never stoped missing you."
You closed your eyes for a moment. "I know. I can feel it."
"I knew you would," he said softly. "I'm sure knowing what the future has in store for both of us isn't something you'd expected to see."
You shook your head. "I certainly didn't expect to hear you call me 'your wife'."
A small smirk played across his lips. "You get your priorities straight when the world is about to end. Marrying you was the best thing I ever did."
You smiled slowly, but your heart ached too much to continue this train of discussion. "So why did you want to speak alone?"
He inhaled deeply. "I wanted to talk to you without him around to persuade you otherwise."
"Persuade me to do what, exactly?"
His gaze was intense as he stepped towards you. If you didn't know him, it would have frightened you. "When you go back to 2009, I want you to pack up your things and leave. Leave me as far behind as you can--run and never look back."
A mixture of shock and sorrow darkened your features. "I-I can't do that."
He reached out and grabbed your hands, squeezing them tightly. "You have to, (Y/N)," he pleaded. "It's the only way I can keep you safe--alive."
You shook your head. "I can't leave you."
He caressed your cheek gently, his calloused hands molding perfectly to your face. "I need you to do this for me, sweetheart. I know it won't be easy and I-he won't understand, but it's for the best. He'll realize it in the end."
"Marrying me was the best thing you've ever done, but you want to deny yourself that joy? Deny me?"
"I would rather suffer a thousand deaths than watch you die again. It almost killed me, (Y/N). Hell, in a way it kinda did. I'm not that man anymore, and I don't want that for him."
You touched his face gently, fingers grazing against the rough stubble on his cheek. "You're wrong, you know. I can see him in you. You might be older, damaged in ways I can't understand, but the man I love lives in you. You and I both know Dean is going to tell me the same thing when we get back to 2009. It will break his heart, but he will beg me to leave if there's even a remote chance it will save my life."
His expression told you exactly how right you were.
"Looks like you haven't changed all that much--at least not in the ways that matter."
A flicker of pain crossed his face, but he was quick to hide it. He loved you so much it hurt and he knew there was no hope for him. He had to believe that the Dean from 2009 would heal from losing you, especially if it meant you got to live.
"Sometimes, I'll lie awake at night and stare at your picture--talk to it, even. I dream of you often and it breaks my heart every time I wake up to find you're not there. I miss you with every part of my tattered soul."
"Dean..." you whispered, leaning into him.
"I know you don't love me, but I need you to know how deeply I love you, even now. You hold my heart in the palm of your hand, (Y/N). You always have."
You stood on your tip-toes and brushed your lips across his cheek. "You are him," you whispered lowly. "I love him, so I love you. Five years of hell on earth doesn't change that."
Tears filled his eyes and he pulled you tightly against him. He never wanted to let you go, no matter what the cost. He felt conflicted about loving you so much, but he knew without a doubt in his mind that the 2009 version of himself would understand.
He pressed a kiss to the top of your head before settling his chin down against it. He loved the way you fit in his arms, as if you were made for them. He wanted you so badly it hurt--an ache so deep in his bones he knew he would never be rid of it.
It took all of his strength--all his willpower--to pull away, releasing you and taking a step back.
You looked up at him with compassionate (y/e/c) eyes, wanting nothing more than to comfort him, heal his pain. You hadn't been lying when you said you loved him. You could feel the man you loved beneath the hardened exterior, and it broke your heart to see him in so much pain.
Your eyes scanned his face again, but he couldn't meet your gaze. You knew his body ached for your touch--you knew because your Dean had always been that way. It had been three years since Future Dean had felt your body against his, so you knew exactly how much it was killing him.
You sighed, glancing out the little window at the front of the cabin. Your Dean stood out there, shoulders set in that stern way you were used to seeing. Your heart ached for him--you knew it was hard for him to be in this situation. You loved him more than you'd ever thought possible and you knew he felt the same. Seeing the way his future self looked at you likely made him contemplate things he shouldn't have had to bear.
"Stay here," you whispered to Future Dean. You stepped past him, heading for the door.
Future Dean watched as you exited, eyes fixated on the way you moved--desperately trying to commit every inch of you to memory.
"Hey," your Dean said softly as you stepped outside. "You okay?"
"Not really," you admitted. "You?"
He gave you a sad smile and shook his head. "This is a lot harder than I thought it would be."
"I know."
"No, sweetheart, I don't think you do," he said gently, but firmly. "You have an idea, sure, but you don't know--not the way I do. I can see it on his face--on my face. The way he misses you, the love he so clearly feels for you...the emptiness inside of him only you can fill. I know all of those feelings, (Y/N). I can't even fathom the pain of losing you. It hurts to even think about."
You touched his arm gently and he leaned into the touch as if on instinct.
"I know what he's feeling, even if I can't fully experience it myself. I know the devastation I would feel if I lost you--I don't think I'd ever fully recover. Add to that all the loss he's experienced in the last five years and I can understand why he's the way he is. I see myself in him...and I can see myself becoming him."
Dean turned his full attention to you and his next words shocked you to your very core.
"He needs you, (Y/N). I have a bad feeling about tomorrow night and I think you might be the only thing that stops him from doing something reckless. It pains me to say this--to give you up, even for a moment, but he needs you. I know it might feel weird, wrong even, but he's me...and I get him, more than I'd care to admit."
Your lips parted in surprise. "I-I don't know if I can do that, Dean."
He touched your face gently and pressed a soft kiss to your lips. "He's me, (Y/N)...and he needs you. You're his wife, after all. So go."
Your eyes scanned his face for any sign of discomfort, but you only saw sadness. Part of you hated this idea, but the other part knew he was right. You'd felt it when you'd been with Future Dean--felt his need for you so strongly it nearly overwhelmed you.
"I love you," you whispered.
"I know, sweetheart. I love you too."
He nodded towards the cabin and gave you a soft smile. You stepped away, knowing you were about to do something that felt both incredibly wrong and incredibly right at the same time.
"Where will you go?"
"I'll hang out with Cas. Don't worry about me, baby."
You nodded and watched him walk away towards Castiel's cabin. You took a deep breath and steeled yourself before turning to the door in front of you.
Future Dean seemed almost surprised to see you as you stepped back into the cabin.
"Hi," you murmured.
"Hey."
"I can't walk away," you whispered. "Not when you're in so much pain."
He looked at you in confusion, unsure of what you were trying to tell him.
You were typically so good with words, but whatever skill you normally had failed you as you looked into his haunted green eyes. There was no way for you to fully understand the emotions he was feeling, no words to explain how desperately you wanted to heal even the smallest fraction of his soul.
You crossed the short distance between you, practically crashing into him as you grabbed the edges of his jacket and pulled him down to you. The kiss surprised him, but he was in no position to pull away--wrong or not, he craved you like a drowning man in need of air.
His arms wrapped around you and pulled you flush against him, holding on for dear life as he deepened the kiss. It felt as if you were both engulfed in flames, every sensation burning you both--scarring you in a way neither of you would ever heal from.
His hands traveled down your back, slipping under your ass to pull you up into his arms. You wrapped your legs around his waist, lips never leaving his.
He carried you to a small room at the back of the cabin and laid you down as gently as he could onto the mattress. There was no bed--simply a mattress on the floor, but there were blankets and a couple pillows, just enough to be comfortable.
Your hands slid inside his jacket, pushing it off his shoulders forcefully. His lips didn't leave yours as he tugged it off and tossed it out of the way. You pulled on his henley, silently begging him to take it off too, a request he immediately complied with.
He had to pull away from you just long enough to tug the shirt over his head, but the action was enough to ground him. As he gazed down at you, his heart clenched in his chest. You were just as beautiful as he remembered, eyes full of love and adoration--an expression he'd missed desperately.
"I love you so much, (Y/N/N)," he said quietly.
Your expression softened slightly, realizing the pain he was feeling--the mixed emotions racing through his veins. "I love you too, Dean. Don't question that for a second."
He closed his eyes for a moment, leaning into the palm of your hand as you reached up to cup his cheek.
"Get out of your head, baby," you murmured. "Focus on me--on this moment--nothing else."
His eyes slowly opened, gaze landing on your face. You began to blush beneath him, his hungry expression heating you from the inside out.
"You're wearing far too much clothing for my taste," he teased, voice low and throaty.
You smirked. "I know you like to rip my clothes off, but these are my only ones--so be gentle."
He groaned, just like you knew he would. Dean was notorious for literally ripping your clothes--he'd ruined more shirts and pants than you cared to admit...not to mention most of your undergarments.
"How 'bout we make a deal?" he murmured.
You hummed in response, so he continued.
"I'll promise not to rip your pants or your underwear, if you're willing to forfeit your shirt."
You looked up at him in surprise. "I don't have another shirt, Dean."
He grinned wolfishly. "But I do."
Realization crossed your features, a small smile curling the corners of your mouth. Before you could respond, he gripped your shirt in his strong hands and tore it right in half, revealing your heaving chest.
"Dean!" you admonished in surprise.
"Sorry, baby--I couldn't wait any longer. You know how impatient I get."
As if to emphasize his impatience, he lowered his mouth to your chest, tugging the cups of your bra down to expose your soft breasts. He groaned loudly before burying his face between them, nipping and sucking at the supple flesh.
You moaned softly, fingers of one hand tangling in the short locks at the base of his skull. Your other hand slipped down his broad back feeling the heated skin beneath the tips of your fingers.
You felt unfamiliar scars, which nearly brought tears to your eyes. You hated the idea of him being hurt--especially if you weren't there to care for him as he healed.
Dean sensed your shift in demeanor and he lifted his head to observe your face. "You okay, baby?"
His soft words brought you back to the present and you offered him a small smile. "New scars," you whispered.
You didn't need to elaborate, he knew exactly what you meant. He could read you just as well as you could read him. "You were there for most of them," he murmured gently.
You relaxed slightly and he sighed before placing a soft kiss to your forehead.
"You know me too well," you remarked.
"You're the love of my life, sweetheart. There's not a damn thing I don't know about you."
Tears pricked at the back of your eyes and you desperately pushed the welling emotions down, choosing instead to focus on the here and now. "I need you, Dean," you whispered. "Desperately."
He had never been one to deny you, and he certainly wasn't going to start now. Besides, his own need was slowly becoming unbearable.
"I'm right here, baby. I'll make you feel so good--I promise."
He wasted no time in removing the rest of your clothing and his own. He wanted to take his time, really feel you, but he knew time was the one thing neither of you had.
"I need to taste you," he whispered into your ear before beginning his descent to your aching pussy.
Some things may have changed in the last five years, but Dean's skills in the bedroom hadn't. The things he could do with his mouth should have been categorized as a crime--his ability to have you screaming and shaking within minutes was still a shock after all this time.
He loved the way you tasted, the way your body reacted to his touch, the pretty sounds you made as he feasted on you. There wasn't a damn thing he didn't love about you, but he had to admit this was in the top five things he missed most about you. The way your body melded with his--two souls intertwining in the most fundamental way, the overwhelming pleasure he could only find in your arms...he'd be a liar if he said he hadn't dreamed of it often in the last three years.
Your nails dug into his biceps as you desperately clung to any part of him you could reach. Your orgasm swept over you seconds later, pulling moans and whimpers from your throat as he continued his assault.
Dean ignored the tugs on his hair, instead holding your hips even more firmly against the mattress as he continued to eat your pussy hungrily. It took mere moments for your whimpers to once again turn to heavy moans of need--your voice hoarse from begging him to keep going.
When your second orgasm crashed into you, your legs shook almost violently against his head, thighs threatening to crush him. He couldn't have been bothered to care--had you actually crushed him in that moment, he would have died a happy man.
He finally relented when you began begging him to give you a moment--just one moment to breathe. He lifted himself up to hover over you, licking his lips happily as he gazed down at you.
"You seem pleased with yourself," you said breathlessly.
"Oh I am." The pride he was feeling practically oozed from his pores. Nothing stroked his ego like making you fall apart over and over again.
You ran your hands up and down his arms in a gentle, soothing manner. He'd always loved the way you touched him--the sweet, loving action something he hadn't been used to before you.
"I love you," he whispered.
You met his gaze and smiled. "All my heart and all my soul, Dean Winchester. Always."
The reply stunned him into a motionless silence. It had been years since he'd heard those words from your lips--he never thought he would be lucky enough to hear them again. In that moment, he felt like his heart had been ripped from his chest, torn apart, and put back together...it hurt like hell, but he wouldn't have traded the moment for anything.
You noticed the change in him and you worried you'd said something wrong. "I'm sorry--"
"Don't apologize," he said immediately. "I just...I haven't heard those words in years and--well, it hit me harder than I thought it would. That was, umm--" he sighed heavily. "It was the last thing you said to me before you died."
His voice was a gravelly whisper, filled with unimaginable pain, and it nearly broke your heart in two. "Dean..." you murmured.
"You have no idea how badly I've wanted to hear those words again--to hear your sweet voice remind me how much you love me. I missed you, sweetheart."
You couldn't have known how he'd react to your statement--hell, you hadn't even thought about it...the words just poured from your mouth like they had countless times before. It didn't matter what year he was from--you loved Dean Winchester with a kind of endless passion that would outlive Death himself.
You knew this experience would change you in ways you couldn't yet comprehend, but you wouldn't change it for anything. At the end of the day, this was Dean, and there was nothing you wouldn't do for him--nothing.
"Make love to me, Dean," you whispered lovingly, eyes bright with desire.
"I could never deny you, (Y/N/N)," he said sweetly. "I won't start now."
He leaned down to kiss you deeply, pulling you back into the warm embrace you craved. As the kiss progressed, your bodies became more entangled, until it was impossible to tell where one of you ended and the other began. It was a feeling you'd only ever felt with Dean, and one you couldn't have explained even if you tried.
After what seemed like an eternity, Dean finally broke the kiss, breathing deeply. "I can't hold back any longer. I need you more than I need to breathe, (Y/N)."
"I'm yours, Dean."
The simple act of giving yourself over to him completely had him wanting to do nothing but worship you until the sun came up again.
He didn't hesitate, didn't overthink--your body was calling to him and he answered it gladly. In one single thrust, he buried himself fully inside you, eliciting sharp groans from you both.
"Fuck, sweetheart--I forgot how incredible you feel," he whispered against your heated skin.
You were breathless and aching, the desire for him to ruin you so overwhelming you couldn't think of anything else. "Move," you pleaded desperately, nails digging into his shoulder blades.
His body mindlessly responded to your pleas, hips setting an almost brutal pace. You both needed this--needed the release that could only come from each other.
You clung to him and he to you, the room filling with the salacious sounds of wet skin against skin and moans of endless pleasure.
"I love the sounds you make when I'm inside you, baby," he groaned. "I fucking missed them so much."
"You feel so good, Dean," you gasped.
"So do you, sweetheart."
And fuck did you feel incredible. He loved you so much and you felt it in every single movement his body made. You hoped he could feel just how much you loved him in return.
"You're the only woman who could ever make me feel like this," he whispered.
You knew exactly what he meant--what he was trying to say. Sex had always been different with you. It had always felt more incredible than with anyone else he'd ever been with. The profound bound the two of you shared made everything better--even sex.
"I never want you to stop," you murmured. "It feels so good."
"Shit," he groaned, your words having more of an affect on him then he'd expected. "Keep talking like that and I'm gonna cum."
"That's what I want, Dean. Want you to fill me up."
He practically growled as he bit down on your collar bone, hips slowing as he tried to regain his composure. "Need you to cum first," he begged.
You rolled your hips against his in response and the sensations he was experiencing snapped whatever remained of his self-control. He grabbed your legs and tugged them flush against his chest and began to pound into you recklessly.
His cock slammed into your g-spot with each thrust, pulling sharp cries of pleasure from your open mouth. Your hands grasped at the blankets beneath you, struggling desperately to find purchase anywhere.
He knew he could get you over the edge this way--he knew your body almost as well as he knew his own. Within a few short minutes, your cries of pleasure turned to screams of his name as one of the most intense orgasms of your life hit you like a tsunami.
Before you could come down from your high, Dean found his own, releasing his seed into your pussy. The contractions of your walls around him milked every last drop of cum from him before he collapsed on top of you, spent and satisfied.
Your arms immediately wrapped around him, holding him tightly against you. You could feel his heart beating rapidly against your chest and you were certain he could feel yours. There was nothing quite like the feeling of being in the arms of the person you love most.
"You're amazing, (Y/N)," he whispered into your neck.
"As are you," you mumbled, pressing your lips into his hair.
He held you almost as tightly as you were holding him and you knew he didn't want to ever let go. Your heart ached for the man in your arms just as much as it ached for the man currently sitting in Castiel's cabin.
Love was the most complicated emotion there was, but this far surpassed any normal situation. Dean Winchester was the love of your life in any time period--past, present, or future. You hated seeing the man you loved in pain and seeing two of him in pain complicated matters beyond belief.
"Where's your head at?" he asked softly.
You chuckled lightly--he really did know you better than anyone else.
"Just thinking about this messed up situation we've found ourselves in."
He sighed quietly. "Don't think on it too much, sweetheart. Zachariah will send you back tomorrow and everything will go back to normal."
"Except for the part where both present and future versions of you want me to leave..."
He lifted his head slowly. "It's too late for me...I'm too far gone, too deeply and madly in love with you to ever push you away. But the Dean from 2009? Yeah he loves you more than he's ever loved another person in his life, but he'll learn to live without you. He has to. Otherwise he'll wake up one day in 2011 without you and he'll feel the way that I do. He'll be forced to live with a hole in his chest that no human being could ever fill, and it'll change him, (Y/N). It'll break him."
Tears streamed down your face as you listened to his words. You knew they were true--knew it was how he was feeling, how he'd felt for years. You didn't want your Dean to feel that pain, but you knew deep in your heart you couldn't walk away. There was no timeline where you could turn your back on the one person that made life worth living...but this Dean didn't need to know that.
"No more talking," you said softly. "Let's just sleep a while."
He nodded and rolled over onto his back, taking you with him. You giggled softly as you nuzzled into his chest, finding comfort in his strong arms.
**********
You awoke to the sound of knocking on the door of the cabin. You felt Dean stir beside you, a grumble of annoyance slipping past his lips. You smiled a little at his moodiness--it was nice to see some things never changed.
You pulled yourself up and got dressed quickly, grabbing a clean henley from the small pile of clothes in the corner. It was much too big on you, but it was all you had thanks to Dean's impatience.
You opened the door of the cabin and found a somewhat sheepish looking Castiel standing on the other side.
"Is, uh, is Dean awake?"
"He mumbled something rather rude when I tried to wake him up, so I let him sleep."
Cas chuckled. "Sounds about right."
"I can wake him if you need him."
Cas looked like he wanted to say no, but knew he couldn't. "Yeah, if you don't mind. We need to start planning for tomorrow if we want this to work. People are starting to talk."
You sighed. "I'll get him up."
You stepped back, leaving the door open as an invitation for Cas to come inside. He chose not to, opting instead to wait on the porch while you went to wake Dean.
"Dean? Sweetheart?" you said gently. "You need to get up."
"Five more minutes," he grumbled.
You laughed and shook him a few times. "Come on, handsome. We've got work to do."
"Fine," he groaned. "Fine."
He sat up slowly, eyes dark with sleep. He looked up at you and you offered him a soft smile, which he instantly returned.
"You're so beautiful."
You blushed. "Get dressed before Cas comes in and sees your naked ass."
"He's probably seen it a couple times by now," he teased as he got up. "Now, where'd you put my pants?"
You laughed. "I think you threw them somewhere over there." You pointed to the other side of the room where a small pile of clothes laid.
He smirked slightly and crossed the room, grabbing his clothes and putting them on quickly.
"What's up, Cas?" he asked gruffly when he came into the main room.
"The team wants to know what's going down tomorrow and uh, past you says we need to start making a plan."
He shot you a look, but you simply shrugged. You weren't at all surprised your Dean wanted to make a plan. He didn't like this whole idea in the first place, so it made sense he would want some kind of plan in place.
"Fine. Gather the team and get them in here."
Cas went off to do as asked. The first person to arrive was your Dean. One look at his handsome face had you rushing to him and wrapping your arms around him. He buried his face in your hair and sighed softly.
"I know this is a little awkward," you said quietly to both Deans as you stepped back.
"Not as much as you would think," your Dean responded.
Future Dean nodded, but remained quiet for a few moments. He fixed your Dean with an intense gaze even you couldn't quite read. "Thank you," he said so softly you almost missed it.
Your Dean nodded his understanding. You realized it really was different for the two of them than it was for you. They were the same man five years apart...they understood each other's thoughts and emotions in a way you never could.
Before you could say anything else, Cas returned with Risa and a couple other people in tow. Risa gave both Deans an odd look before turning her dark gaze to you. You couldn't read her expression, but you felt the jealousy coming off her in waves.
"Well this is about to be uncomfortable," you murmured to your Dean, who just chuckled.
Everyone sat down around the table except for both Deans and yourself. You stood beside your Dean, and you both stood slightly back to give yourselves room to observe everyone.
Risa glared at Future Dean so intensely it made everyone uncomfortable. He gave her a confused look and simply asked, "Why are you pissed at me?"
"Something about you having a connection, but then spending the night in another chick's cabin," your Dean quipped.
You snickered softly, as did Cas. Future Dean shot a glare your way, but you simply shrugged.
"Plus your dead wife is magically not dead, so yeah, I feel some kinda way," Risa grumbled.
"The (Y/N) some of you knew is dead. This one is from 2009--same as him," Future Dean said, gesturing to your Dean. "Now that we've got that out of the way, can we please focus?"
No one dared argue with him.
Future Dean launched into his spiel about killing the devil, revealing the Colt to the other people in the room.
"How do you know it's gonna work?" Risa asked skeptically.
"It's all we've got," Future Dean answered. "We got Lucifer's location from that demon we captured last week. We know where he's gonna be for the first time in years."
"The demon might have lied for all you know," Risa snapped.
"Trust me, he was honest."
Castiel leaned towards Risa. "Dean is very well-versed in the art of getting to the truth."
You inhaled sharply, immediately understanding Castiel's meaning. Your Dean stiffened beside you and you felt the quiet rage simmering beneath the surface.
"Seriously? You went back to torture?" your Dean said angrily.
Future Dean looked at you, a resigned look of sadness on his face. You sighed and placed your hand on your Dean's arm and murmured, "Let it go, Dean."
He caught Future Dean's expression and fell silent again. There was no use arguing about his tactics now.
"Now," Future Dean said as he gestured to the map on the table. "We'll be heading in here."
"That's a hot zone," Cas said. "It's filled with Croats and demons--kinda reckless to just go barging in there don't you think?"
"Are you coming or not?" Future Dean asked, ignoring Cas's objections.
"Of course," Cas responded. "I've gotta ask though, why are they coming?" He nodded his head towards you and your Dean.
"I don't answer to you. Just know that they are coming."
Castiel put his hands up in surrender.
"Why don't you all go get supplies ready and recruit a couple more people," you suggested.
Future Dean nodded his agreement and the others left, leaving you and the Deans alone.
"Now why don't you try that again, but give an honest answer this time," you said sternly, eyes boring into Future Dean's face.
He sighed wearily. "I want you both to see what happened to Sam. Especially you." He pointed to the younger version of himself.
"What do you mean?" your Dean asked. "You said he died in Detroit."
"No, I didn't. I said he didn't make it out."
You exhaled sharply, heart nearly breaking as you realized what he was saying.
Future Dean fixed his gaze on you and you knew your assumption was correct. You instinctively reached out to your Dean in an attempt to ground him--you knew exactly how this information would affect him.
"What's going on?" your Dean asked, looking between you and his doppelgänger.
"He said yes," you whispered.
Future Dean nodded, but your Dean simply looked confused.
"The big yes," Future Dean said tiredly. "Lucifer wore him to the prom."
You gave your Dean a sad look. A flash of pain crossed his handsome features and your heart broke for him. You'd told him back in your time that he needed to forgive Sam--needed to mend their relationship. You didn't realize just how important that mending would be.
"He wouldn't do that," your Dean whispered.
You placed a comforting hand on his arm, but didn't bother to contradict him.
"Well he did," Future Dean snapped. "And when you go back, you need to say 'yes' to Michael. Immediately."
"Absolutely not!" you gasped.
Now it was Dean's turn to comfort you, his hand coming to rest on yours. "She's right. A showdown between Michael and Lucifer would torch half the planet."
"Half a planet is better than no planet," Future Dean insisted.
"If it's such a good idea, why didn't you say yes?" your Dean asked.
"Oh trust me, I tried. But by the time I was ready, the angels had given up and fucked off to wherever they are now."
"There has to be another way," your Dean whispered.
Future Dean fixed you with an expression that made everything clear to you.
"That's why you want me to leave," you began softly. "You know I would never approve of him saying yes to Michael. If I'm not around to influence him, then maybe he'll be foolish enough to say 'yes', right?"
Your Dean looked confused, but Future Dean held your gaze and you knew you were right.
"I really don't want you to die," he said gently. "But I also know exactly what you'll say...and I know the impact your words will have on my choices. Because I already made them."
"You told her to leave me?" your Dean asked slowly. "Even knowing what that'll do to me?"
"You'll both be better off."
"You don't get to make that call," you snapped.
Future Dean sighed and shook his head. "You'll both make your own decisions, but I just want you to have all the facts. Gear up. We move out in 20." With that he walked out the door, leaving you and your Dean alone.
"What if he's right?"
"About saying yes to Michael?" you asked in surprise.
Dean shook his head. "About it being better for you to leave."
You sighed quietly. "He's wrong...about all of it."
"I've seen what losing you did to me--to him...and I'm not sure that's something I can voluntarily experience."
You smiled. "I'm gonna do everything in my power to make sure you never have to."
Dean returned the smile and pulled you in closely. "I love you, (Y/N)."
"I love you too, Dean Winchester. Always."
**********
You were sitting in the backseat of the truck, listening to Cas tell your Dean about becoming human. It was weird for you to see Cas like this, hell he was driving. It was even harder to see how broken he had become and it only made you want to prevent this future even more.
You closed your eyes, desperate to fall asleep--to leave this fucked up, burned out world behind. You wanted to go home--to 2009. There was still time to change the future, to stop any of this from happening. You would give anything to stop it.
You must have fallen asleep because you were awoken by the gentle sound of your Dean's voice telling you it was time to wake up. You opened your eyes, surprised to see it was now light out.
"We're here, baby," he said softly.
You sighed deeply and nodded. You dragged yourself out of the truck and gathered your weapons along with the rest of the group. Your senses immediately told you something was off and one glance at your Dean told you he felt the same.
"Didn't you say this is a hot zone?" you asked Cas softly.
The former angel nodded.
"Then where are all the Croats?"
"Must be in another part of the city," he responded.
You and Dean exchanged a look, neither one of you believing his response.
Nevertheless, you followed the group, searching the rundown city for the building you were going to raid. When you found it, all of your hunter instincts screamed that something was wrong, but this time you weren't the first to voice it.
"Shouldn't there be a shit load of demons out here?" your Dean asked.
Future Dean shrugged. "They must all be inside."
His answer didn't satisfy you one bit, but you kept your mouth shut, choosing instead to observe him closely. The only person who knew Dean better than you was the man himself, which was proven moments later.
"Alright," Future Dean started. "You guys go in through the second story window. The three of us will sneak around back."
Risa looked more than a little concerned with the game plan. "Are you sure that's a good idea?"
She glanced over at Cas, who clearly agreed with her worry.
"Trust me, okay? They'll never see us coming," Future Dean assured them.
"Can I talk to you for a second?" your Dean said firmly, his words more a statement than a question.
Future Dean sighed, but stepped off to the side to speak with the two of you.
"You're lying to them," your Dean said lowly. "Don't deny it--I know your lying expressions, I've seen them in the mirror."
Future Dean sighed in annoyance and your Dean threatened to tell the team about his concerns, but Future Dean stopped him.
"I know it's a trap, alright? I'm not an idiot. They'll go in the front door and create a distraction while I sneak around the back."
"You're sacrificing your team?" you asked incredulously.
"They're your friends! And Cas? Come on, man--this isn't you," your Dean added.
"My inability to make the tough decisions is what got us here in the first place. Look around you--this is the end of everything," Future Dean growled. "It's my job to kill Lucifer and save what's left of this planet, so that's what I'm going to do."
"I can't let you do that," your Dean argued.
Instead of engaging in further discussion, Future Dean jabbed the butt of his gun into your Dean's head, knocking him unconscious instantly.
"Dean!" you yelled, unsure if you were calling for yours or yelling at the Future version.
"I have to do this, (Y/N)," he said softly. "I need you to understand."
Tears welled in your eyes. "I understand why you believe that, but I don't agree. It's not who you are, Dean...the man I fell in love with would never sacrifice the people he loves--not for anything."
Future Dean looked down at the ground in silence. When he lifted his head again, his face was hard--a mask of non-emotion.
"I'm doing what needs to be done," he said firmly. "Stay with him and stay out of the way."
You wanted to reason with him, but you knew there was no point in trying. Yes, he was still Dean, but you knew you would never be able to change his mind. He'd made his choices and he'd had to live with them. Now, he was just trying to make up for all the mistakes he believed he'd made.
"Go," you whispered.
He nodded and moved back to join the others. You watched everyone but Dean head to the front of the building, a feeling of sorrow weighing on your heart.
"Dean," you called softly, prompting him to turn to look at you. "Don't die."
He gave you the smallest of smiles and nodded before running towards the back of the building.
You dropped to your knees and shook your Dean firmly. "Dean, wake up!"
After a few minutes, he groaned and his eyes fluttered open. "Fuck," he mumbled.
"Hey!" You helped him into a sitting position. "You okay?"
"My head's killing me."
"He hit you pretty hard," you said gently.
The sound of gunfire urged him to his feet. "We gotta go."
You nodded and let him grab your hand as the two of you ran to the back of the building. You arrived to a terrifying scene--Future Dean was lying on the ground and a man in a white suit stood above him, his foot firmly on Dean's neck.
Future Dean made eye contact with you seconds before his neck snapped and the life left his face.
"No!" you screamed.
Your Dean grabbed you, pulling you back to keep you from rushing forward. Watching Dean die felt like having your own heart ripped out of your chest--it was a feeling you hoped you'd never have to relive.
The man turned around in surprise and your breath caught in your chest. Objectively, you'd known it was Lucifer--you'd known he'd be in Sam's body--but there was nothing quite like seeing it in person.
Dean instinctively pushed you behind him, putting his body protectively in front of yours.
"Dean, (Y/N)," Lucifer greeted calmly. "It's a surprise to see you here--especially since I killed you three years ago and well..." he looked down at Future Dean's body with a nonchalant shrug. "It must be a shock to see your brother like this."
"Why don't you just kill me now and get it over with?" Dean asked angrily.
"Well that would be redundant. I'll kill your lovely wife three years before I kill you," he said simply. "We will always end up here, Dean. This is the way our story ends."
"Deep-frying the planet and murdering billions of people? What a shitty story," Dean snapped.
Lucifer started to rant about loving God too much and being punished for it...but you'd stopped listening. You could feel the pain rolling off your sweet Dean in waves. You knew what he was thinking--he'd failed his brother and in doing so, destroyed the world.
"I'm not falling for that sympathy-for-the-devil crap!" Dean yelled, pulling you back to the present. "The only difference between you and the monsters I've hunted my whole life is the size of your ego."
If the situation had been different, you probably would have laughed. Dean's fearlessness was something you both loved and admired about him. What's more, you agreed with his sentiment.
Lucifer simply smiled. "I like you, Dean. I can see what the other angels see in you." His gaze landed on you and you felt the rage boiling under your skin. "No hard feelings, (Y/N). Your death was a means to an end--it broke what little humanity your precious Dean had left in him. It's what led us to this moment."
Lucifer turned to walk away, but Dean called after him. "You better kill me now or I won't stop until I find a way to kill you."
Lucifer's smile was cruel. "I know you'll try Dean, but I also know you'll never say 'yes' to Michael, and you'll never kill Sam. No matter what choices you make or details you change, your wife will die in 2011 and you and I will always end up right here."
"You're wrong," Dean whispered, eyes filling with pained tears.
You touched his arm gently, reminding him he wasn't alone. He leaned into your touch, but remained steadfastly in front of you--guarding you with every ounce of strength he had.
"I'll see you in two years, (Y/N)," Lucifer said with a condescending smile. "And I'll see you in five, Dean."
Before either of you could say a word, Lucifer vanished, leaving the two of you alone.
"Dean..." you whispered softly.
He turned to you, his expression full of agony. You reached for him just as Zachariah appeared and placed a hand against each of your foreheads, zapping you back to the hotel room in Kansas City, circa 2009.
Both of you turned to face the offending angel, anger your primary emotion in the moment.
"Now you know what's going to happen," Zachariah said, cutting off any rant either of you could start. "Your only option is to say 'yes' to Michael, otherwise billions of people are going to die."
"How do we know that wasn't just another one of your tricks?" you snapped.
"The time for tricks is over," Zachariah stated. "Saying 'yes' to Michael is the only way you can save the world--save (Y/N)--save your brother.
Dean turned to you, his face full of anguish. It made your heart clench in your chest and you worried for a moment he'd changed his mind.
"Nah," Dean said to Zachariah, jaw set in a firm line.
You smirked a little, watching Zachariah's facial expression turn to shock.
"Are you telling me you haven't learned your lesson?"
"Oh I learned my lesson," Dean countered. "Just not the one you wanted to teach me."
Zachariah stepped towards Dean menacingly. You instinctively stepped forward, more than willing to fight the angel to protect the man you loved. Dean placed a gentle hand on yours to let you know he wasn't scared.
"I have you exactly where I want you," Zachariah began. "I'm going to teach both of you a lesson until you get it through your thick skulls. Neither of you are going anywhere until you say 'yes'."
Dean's grip on your hand tightened and his mouth opened to give some sort of retort when you suddenly found yourself standing on the side of a highway. Dean's hand was still wrapped tightly around yours and a slightly confused Castiel stood a few feet in front of you.
"Excellent timing, Cas," Dean said in relief.
"We had an appointment," Cas stated matter-of-factly.
You chuckled softly and stepped forward to wrap the angel in a hug. He was slightly surprised by your actions, but he didn't pull away.
Dean placed a firm hand on Castiel's shoulder and offered him another smile. "Don't ever change."
You and Dean launched into the story of the last few days for you, and Castiel listened quietly.
"How did Zachariah find you?"
"Long story," Dean muttered. "But let's just stay away from Jehovah's Witnesses in the future."
You chuckled again and rolled your eyes affectionately.
Dean pulled out his phone and started to dial a number.
"What are you doing?" Cas asked.
"Something I should have done in the first place."
You smiled, knowing exactly what he was doing...and who he was calling. You were proud of him and you voiced the sentiment as soon as you were alone.
"Thanks, babe. Turns out you were right all along."
You grinned. "I'm always right."
Dean chuckled and rolled his eyes. "Alright sweetheart, calm down." His voice was light and teasing and it warmed you straight down to your soul.
"I love you, you dork."
He smiled and squeezed your hand. "I love you too."
You were both quiet for several minutes, just watching the road as Dean sped towards your next destination.
"It's still the apocalypse," Dean said suddenly.
"Mhmm," you hummed quietly.
"So you know...the world might still end."
"Hopefully not."
"Agreed, but I'm thinking maybe we should get married."
"What?" you said in shock.
Dean shrugged. "I'm just saying...you're my everything and I want everyone to know you're mine. Besides, if this world really does end, there's no one I wanna be with but you."
"You know, normally the guy gets down on one knee."
Dean chuckled. "I can do that as soon as I stop the car."
You laughed. "Typically there's a ring too."
He grinned. "Don't worry baby--I'll buy you a big diamond ring."
You smiled and grabbed his hand, squeezing it gently. "I don't really need a ring, Dean--and I don't need you to get down on one knee. If you're serious about it, then hell yeah--let's get married."
Dean looked at you hopefully. "I'm dead serious, babe."
You touched his cheek with a smile. "Then let's get married."
He looked at the straight stretch of road ahead, not a car in sight. He leaned over and kissed you quickly, the affectionate gesture expressing his emotions better than any words he could have said.
When he pulled back to face the road, you leaned across the seat and placed a soft kiss to his cheek. Your voice was low as you said the words that had become a mantra in your relationship, "All my heart and all my soul, Dean Winchester. Always."
His smile warmed your entire body--inside and out. It had been weird hearing Future Dean call you his wife...but your Dean proposing to you now, it just felt right.
You rode the rest of the way in a happier mood than you'd felt in a long time. Dean's mood was lighter too, but you both knew it wouldn't last. There was still a lot of darkness to come, but you were both determined to make sure there were happy moments. After all, love was one of the things that made life worth living.
A short time later, you sat on the trunk of the Impala, watching the man you loved apologize to his brother. You smiled warmly as you watched them, overjoyed at the steps they were both taking to make amends.
Dean turned towards you and waved you over. You hopped down and crossed the short distance, passing Dean to wrap Sam in a tight hug. The much larger man returned the gesture, the tension easing from his body.
"Glad to have you back, Sammy," you said as you stepped back.
"Thanks, (Y/N/N)."
"We're getting married," Dean said suddenly.
Sam's eyes widened in shock and you nearly laughed at Dean's sudden admission.
"End of the world and all that," Dean said sheepishly.
You chuckled and Sam expressed his congratulations.
"No matter what happens," you said softly. "We have each other--all three of us."
Both Winchesters nodded their agreement and Dean slipped his arm around you to pull you close.
"To hell with fate," Dean stated. "From now on, we make our own future."
You leaned into him with a smile, appreciating the sentiment more than you would have just a few days prior. At the end of the day, all you had was each other and the love that bonded all of you together. None of you knew exactly what the future held, but you'd be damned if you didn't fight for a future worth living for.
#supernatural#dean winchester smut#dean winchester#dean winchester x reader#dean winchester x reader smut#endverse!dean#endverse!dean x reader#supernatural smut
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My Secret Desire | AESPA Winter x Male Reader
I decided to post the new chapter today because I was supposed to post something else today. But as you can guess, I did not liked it enough to post it. So enjoy the new chapter!
4. The Package
She send me a pair of her underwear. With a little note on them saying “Make good use of them until i come back and get them.” And she drew a little emoji winking at the end.
But she wasn’t coming over. Neither to school nor my house. She was barely texting me. And when she does, she only makes me horny and disappear completely. I asked about her to one of her friends but they were in it too. I all got for a response was to wait. So I waited. After nearly a week and a half later, my door was knocking. It was her. I looked at the peekhole. I opened the door. She went straight in. Saying nothing. She took off her shoes and jumped to my bed. Getting ready to take a nap. I closed the door and started watching her. After a moment of silence I wanted to check on her. She was sleeping. She literally was gone for nearly two weeks and now she is back sleeping in my room.
But no. This was my time to act. I couldn’t just let her win every time. I sit beside her and woke her up. “What?” she asked me. Her attitude was making me angry. This attitude of her was the main reason I hate her as much as I love her. “What do you mean “What?”!” “You come into my house, crying. You’re not saying a single word. We fuck, you disappear for nearly two weeks. Than you sending me your panties. And after a few days later you appear on my doorstep and pretending none of this happened?” She looked at me. Holding her laugh. “Yes.” She said. Then burst into laughing.
I hold her arms. I mean, I hold them pretty tight. Her laugh was disappearing quickly. She realized that I’m really angry now. But she was not holding back either. “Come on big boy, what do you have in mind?”
I knew her intention. She wants sex again. But no. She needs to know that she does not always get what she wants from me. We fuck when I want to fuck. She grabbed my cock. But my cock was not hard this time. Because I was furious. “Come on, stop resisting. I know you want me.” She was thigtening her grab as she talks to me. I pushed her to the bed. “Okay, now we’re talking.” She said. But the following event was not someting that she would expect. I dressed up, took the keys and locked her inside my apartment. She has no other option to wait for me. My apartment was pretty high up so she couldn’t use the balcony to run away. But also, I had zero worries that she wants to escape. I was confident that she will wait for me. No matter how long I took to come back to my apartment.
I grabbed some ramen from my favourite store. It was just around the corner of my apartment. Then I rented a film from one of the stores that is not far from my apartment. Then I go to my apartment. Opened the door. There she was. Sitting on the toilet without closing the toilets door. “You should at least close the door.” I said to her. She rolled her eyes and answered. “You should be grateful that I did not pissed on to your carpet. You dick.” She was acting just like I imagined she would. “I am hungry. You did get something to eat, right?” I showed her the ramen I bought. “You’re the best boyfriend in the world.” Then she added. “Probably.” I asked her while I put the ramens on the kitchen counter. “What do you mean boyfriend?” She got up and came towards me. “Duh, dude you fucked me and cum into my throat. And I fucking swallowed it. What do you think we are? Study buddies?”
“So, you loved me from the beggining.” I asked. “Both.” She answered. “I fucking love you so much and I hate you so fucking much.” She also said. I can take that. “I love you because you’re the most precious person ever. I hate you because you’re too precious to be real. That you will gone to your own country an forgot about me.”
Her words hurt me a lot. But not in a bad way. I was hurt because I did not see it before. She was never bullying me. She just wanted my attention. Because she was thinking that I will leave her because she was not clever enough. What a bad way to think about yourself. And this was the exact reason I hated her to my guts. She was so hard to get along with. She was meaning the world to me. Yet, whenever I tried to show her this, she accused me by being delusional. Saying she is not enough for me or so. I may be too harsh to say I hated her just for this, trust me this kind of toxicity can kill. But my love for her was always getting the spotlight. It was the same for her too.
“I am so sorry If I ever hurt you with my words. I was never a bully. I just wanted your attention. And you weren’t giving me.” She hit me with your little fist as she talks. I hugged her. “No, I won’t be going anywhere. Not now at least.” She showed me her middle finger. And then she realized the film I rented. She took the dvd and started inspecting it. “I heard that this one is so shit.” She said. “It is pure shit.” I answered. Her response was hilarious, and expected. “Then why the fuck you rented this?” It turns out that this was just the way she communicates. Not exactly helping her with the social life but, kind of makes her hot and cute. Or I was just obsessed with her.
I prepared the ramen and we started eating. “Put the film on.” She said. I put the film on. In under ten minutes our meals were finished. She paused the film and said “Okay let’s agree on something.” I said go on. “If i get bored in the next ten minutes, we fuck. If I don’t we don’t fuck.” I was confused a little. “Why do I get punished for choosing I film that you probably like?” I asked. “Haha. That is how I work, honey.”
She watched that entire film. I can realize that she wasn’t really liked it. But she did it because she wanted to annoy me. But I wanted her. So I started to kiss her neck. “No hickeys.” She said. “My mother will fucking kill me.” Of course I was going to give her a hickey. “If you’re going to give me a hickey just do it on a place my mother wouldn’t be able to see.” She said. I took of her tshirt. I left a hickey on her left shoulder. “Your mother wouldn’t see that, I think.” I said. She mimics me. Then laughs. “You ruined the ending.” She said. “Come on! It was already shit how I could possibly ruined the ending.” I answered. She nodded.
“I’m just going to give you a blowjob, and get the hell out of here. I’m already late. I was gone to buy some rice. My mother still waiting me to bring rice.” She said. “I have an unopened package of rice. You can take it on your way out.” She gave me a thumbs up. Then took off my pyjamas. She was on her knees. She licked my cock over my underwear. Then she took of my underwear. Took my cock inside her mouth. Her mouth was so warm. And I already knew that she is very skilled when it comes to sucking cock. But she was too shy to make eye contact. I did not pushed her to her limits just yet. I just let her give me head peacefully, in her own terms. “Are you going to swallow it again?” I asked. She took it off from her mouth to answer me. “Well, i want to but you bought me a gigantic ramen. I don’t want to throw up the first meal you bought me.” She started sucking it again. I asked her to look into my eyes. She started to look up. She was looking so good with my cock in her mouth. I mean, she was probably the cutest girl I’ve ever seen. And she was my girlfriend.
“I’m going to swallow it.” She said. “Do not pull it out when you’re about to cum.” I pulled my cock out. “What makes you change your mind.” I asked her. “You forgot to buy me beverage. Can I please finish it and go???” “Okay, okay sorry.” I answered. “All yours.” She got faster and faster. Then I came into her mouth. First she showed me her mouth full of my cum. Then she swallowed it and showed me her empty mouth. I pull her closer to me and kissed her lips. “You just kissed your own cum.” She laughed. “But off your mouth.” I answered. “But it makes you gay.” She answered. I looked at her face laughing. “Okay, I’m going. Give me the rice.” I give her the rice I bought the other day. “Hey, mom! I just blowed my boyfriend and he give me a packet of rice.” She was laughing out loud while saying that. “At least you keep the money.” I said. “You’re so very right sir. Goodbye.” She saluted me and went out the door. I followed her. “No kiss goodbye?” She came closer, I was taller than her. She signalizes me to bow down. I did. She put her middle finger into my mouth. “Here’s your kiss.”
God I love her.
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Happy Valentine's Day, Javier Peña
Summary: You've never been the biggest fan of Valentine's Day. But when you and Javi celebrate it for the first time together, he goes out of his way to make sure it's everything you want and more.
Pairing: Fiancé!Javier Peña x F!Reader (Reader's nickname is Osita, no use of Y/N)
Word Count: 5.4K
Warnings: SMUT (18+), unprotected p in v sex (don't do that pls), face sitting, oral (f receiving), creampie, praise kink, breeding kink (it's me), PREMATURE EJACULATION, cumming untouched, subby Javi (he is no better than a teenage boy and can barley keep it together bc he is so obsessed with you AH), Javi picks you up to carry you, Javi being a hopeless romantic, sweet, cute fluff bc I said so
A/N: HEYOOOO. It's me, back with our favorite menace couple 🤪 You know damn well Javi goes all out for Valentine's Day, bc Javier Peña is a man in LOVE and the world's biggest softie (I will not be taking counter arguments, it's fact). So in love, in fact, that sometimes, things are finished before they're even started!!! Happy Valentine's Day, Y'all!! 🫣💕 Unbeta'd bc my body won't let me sleep and I'm too exhausted to edit
Can be read as a stand alone, or as a part of the Never Too Late Series!
You hated Valentine’s Day.
Well… Hate was a strong word, but it was the only word strong enough to try and convince Javi that the last thing he needed to worry about doing was going all out for you on a Wednesday in the middle of February. Because for a very long time, all Valentine’s day was for you was just that- another day in the middle of winter.
For as long as you could remember, you had either spent Valentine’s day alone, wishing you had someone special to share it with, or the person you were sharing it with really didn’t give a shit about you, bought you some chocolate and flowers to cover their ass and called it a day. Your most recent ex had been kind enough to follow your request about not making the holiday anything special by forgetting about it completely and ditching you to go to a hockey game with his friends and then drunkenly calling you to come pick him up that night.
It was safe to say that Valentine’s day really didn’t mean much to you at all, or at least you thought it wouldn’t, until you’d met Javier Peña- A man who had quite literally bumped into you and proceeded to change the course of your life for the better and found yourself falling head over heels for, so much so, that it didn’t take you long to realize there was no one else that you wanted to spend the rest of your life with than him- leaving your first Valentine’s day together also the first time celebrating the holiday with your fiancé, now that the two of you had gotten engaged. It also meant your first of many years of having to convince Javi that he really didn’t need to do anything special for you to celebrate, and that just getting to spend time with him was more than enough for you.
Unfortunately, it was not good enough for Javi.
“Baby, I’m being serious, I promise I do not care. I would be happy if all we did was got pizza and watched TV together. All I wanna do for Valentine’s Day is just spend time with you. I don’t need a random weekday in February for you to prove that you love me, I think you’ve already proven that, Jav.” You laughed, pausing from washing dishes to pull your left hand out of the kitchen sink to point to the engagement ring on your finger. You found yourself now laughing even harder at Javi’s audible sigh as he snuck behind you, flushing his chest against your back, wrapping his arms around your waist and resting his head on your shoulder, practically feeling the weight of his signature puppy dog pout drooping on you.
“I know, but it’s Valentine’s Day. I’m not gonna not do anything. And you deserve much more than pizza.” Javi sighed, pressing a kiss on your cheek, squeezing you in his grasp just a little tighter, making you giggle as he flipped you around to face him, caging you under his broad body against the kitchen counter. “You have to let me do something for you, Hermosa.”
“I don’t know Jav, pizza does sound really good. You really think you’re gonna be able to top pizza?” You teased, raising your eyebrow at him and sporting a sarcastic smirk as he rolled his eyes at you.
“Oh shut up, you dork. Seriously, Osita. I totally get if you don’t wanna do anything big, but, I am not doing nothing for my beautiful fiancé on Valentine’s Day. You deserve it. How about this? If you don’t wanna go out, then I am making us reservations here at Restaurant Peña.”
“Oh, Restaurant Peña? They must be new around here, never heard of them before. Does the chef take requests?” You smirked, biting down on your lip to keep your goofy grin from growing between your cheeks, only giggling more as Javi leaned in to pepper ticklish kisses across your face.
“Normally, no, but I have a feeling the chef can make an exception for you.
“Does the chef make pizza?”
“The chef will make fucking pizza if you want pizza.” Javi laughed, rolling his eyes, tightening his grip around your waist, lifting you up and spinning you around in a fit of laughter before setting you down on top of the kitchen counter, slotting himself in the open space in between your legs and digging his fingers into your hips. “Whatever you want, baby, I’ll make it for you.”
“You choose, Chef Peña. Surprise me.”
“Hermosa, you hate surprises.”
“Well, then whatever you’re making better be good.” You shrugged, cocking your head to the side with a smug grin.
“You’re ridiculous, I hope you know that.”
“Yeah, no shocker there. Seriously though, thank you, Javi. This is really sweet of you. You know you don’t-”
Cutting you off, Javi brought his lips to yours, cradling your jaw as he swallowed the rest of your sentence, making your heart flutter from the electric kiss your fiance had just given you to politely shut you up.
“I know I don’t. But I want to. Te amo, tozuda (I love you, stubborn).”
“I love you too, pendejo (jerk). Now help me down, I have dishes to finish and a menu to plan for Laredo’s newest top chef.”
As you pulled up to the parking lot of your apartment, you shouldn’t have been surprised to see that Javi had already beat you home to get a head start on your Valentine’s Day dinner, laughing to yourself in disbelief, wondering how you had gotten so lucky that you had found someone that genuinely cared this much about making something so special just for you.
As you fumbled for your keys and pushed open your front door, you saw your apartment was dimly lit, candles scattered around the living room and kitchen, the shadows of the flames flickering and dancing along the walls. You could hear soft music and pans sizzling in the kitchen, along with the sweet humming of Javi’s voice. You closed the door behind you, taking a few more shocked steps into the living room before Javi noticed your presence.
He grinned, quickly setting down what he was working and wiping his hands on the towel he had tucked in his waistband while he was cooking before coming over to cup your face for a long, sweet kiss that made your heart race, leaving you speechless.
“Happy Valentine’s Day, mi amor.” He cooed, now pulling away from his embrace to reach behind you for the bouquet of daisies that had been hiding on the entryway table, handing them over to you with another peck on the cheek.
“Javi, these are, baby, these are beautiful. Did you- you left work early just to do all this?” You grinned, burying your nose in the flowers before looking around the living room to admire the setup Javi had prepared for the two of you, finally meeting his soft, sweet gaze staring down at you.
“Maybe. You’re Restaurant Peña’s first customer, wanted to make a good impression. Speaking of which, dinner is almost done, and as much as I would love to do nothing but stand here and kiss you, the chef doesn’t want to be the first meal he serves to be burned to a crisp.”
“Well in that case,” You paused, giggling as you pressed up on your tiptoes to press a kiss onto his plush lips, “I better go change for this classy event. Can’t wait to see what the chef has in store.���
Handing your flowers back to Javi, you set down the rest of your things from work, and quickly scampered back towards your bedroom, peeking back out of the doorway to shoot Javi a quick wink, making him quietly laugh to himself as he ran his hand over the back of his neck, shaking his head, trying to hide the completely lovestruck smirk plastered all over his face before heading back to the kitchen.
Gently closing the door behind you, your face mirrored Javi’s, heat creeping through your cheeks, grinning to yourself as you made your way to your dresser, starting to shuffle through your top drawer, looking for personal Valentine’s Day gift for your fiancé that had been hidden away under your folded piles of socks and underwear.
After digging for a few moments, you felt the lacy texture running through your fingers, pulling out the new lingerie set you had bought a few days ago to surprise Javi with. You quickly shimmied out of your work clothes, tossing them into the laundry basket next to your bed before slipping the delicate fabric over your body. Although this wasn't the first time you had surprised Javi with an outfit like this, you’d never get over his awestruck reaction, watching his eyes grow wide with his hungry gaze, ravishing in every inch of you, barley keeping himself together enough even remain coherent as you revealed yourself to him.
Giving yourself a once over in the mirror, you pulled one of your nicer, fitted black dresses out of your closet, hiding the matching red bra and thong held up by the lacy garters around your thighs, quickly touching up your hair and makeup from your long work day before making your way back out into the kitchen to greet Javi, back turned to you as he picked up two plates off the counter to bring to the table, nearly dropping them in the process as he turned around to see you standing in front of him.
“Fuck me…” He muttered under his breath, his jaw nearly dropping as he gave you another once over after looking you up and down, having to shake his head to snap himself back to reality, having enough sense to set his plates full of food down on the table before they ended up on the floor. “Baby, you look- fuck, you look fucking stunning.”
“I heard Restaurant Peña’s a nice place, figured I should dress for the occasion. Plus,” You smirked, taking the few steps to close the space between you and Javi, draping your arms over his shoulders and pressing up on your tiptoes to giggle in his ear, “I heard the chef here is really sexy. I’m really hoping that he’s free after dinner so I can treat him to some dessert.”
“Jesus fucking Christ… Hermosa, if you keep talking like that, we’re not gonna make it to dinner.” Javi groaned, biting down on his lip as he looked down at your mischievous grin, letting out another deep breath as his hands traveled down the curves of your waist, reaching around to grab a handful of your ass, kneading it over the fitted fabric covering it. “Fuck… can we just skip dinner and go straight to des-”
“Javi! No! You made me this whole delicious meal, I am not letting you skip this because you can’t keep it in your pants, mister.” You teased, giving Javi a playful nudge, taking a step back to cross your arms over your chest, raising an eyebrow at him to tease him, even you knew damn well you would have been more than happy to give in to Javi’s plan, but the gurgle in your stomach and the inkling you were going to need some energy for the night ahead gave you enough logic to at least have some rational thinking left in your brain.
“Fine…” Javi sighed, holding up his hands in defense, laughing at your sassy remark, stepping back to the table to put both your plates in their rightful spots before making his way over to your chair to pull it out for you, leaning down to whisper in your ear as you sat down, the hot breath of his words dancing across your neck as he spoke. “Can you blame me when you look like this? You keep fucking teasing me like that, Hermosa, and dessert’s about to get very interesting.”
You could feel the rasp of his voice shoot straight to your core, your thighs instinctively clenching together to try to keep the ache growing between your legs at bay, letting the softest moan escape from your lips, using every ounce of brain power you had left to try and conjure up some sort of response.
“Yeah? Is that a threat or a promise?”
“Depends, which one do you want it to be?”
“Whatever the chef wants.”
Although the dinner that Javi had cooked was absolutely delicious, after adding a few glasses of wine during your meal to the already thick and palpable sexual tension in your kitchen was not helping either of your causes, the two of you probably rushing through eating much faster than you had intended to when the night had begun.
Taking the final sips left in your glass and watching the last bits of your plate cleared, all your inhibitions had been thrown out the window, giving Javi longing look as you stood up out of your chair, pushing in your seat and slowly slinking your way over to Javi, lifting your leg over his lap as you straddled him in his spot, your hands slowly running up and down his chest, toying with the buttons of his dress shirt and carefully unbuttoning button by button as you nipped at his ear.
“So, are you ready for dessert? I think I have a treat for you that you’re gonna like.” You rasped, trailing kisses across his neck and jaw, your lips meeting his in an electric passion, catching the muffled moan escaping his mouth as you began swirling your hips feeling the bulge beginning to grow in his pants.
“Fuck… Yeah? You gonna tell me what it is, huh, Hermosa?” Javi groaned, his hands wrapping around your waist, fingers digging into your hips, pressing you down further into his crotch, making you whine as you felt his hard length beneath you rubbing against you, only fueling the fire burning in your stomach and the wet patch growing in your underwear.
“Why don’t you take me to the bedroom and find out.”
You could barley finish your sentence before Javi was tightening his grip around you, standing up out of the chair to lift you up as he stood, carrying you to the bedroom as you stumbled down the hallway, becoming a tangled mess of tongue and teeth as the back of Javi’s knees finally hit the bed, situating you back in his lap. His hands roamed relentlessly over your body, letting his hands creep up your thighs, pushing up your dress high enough to stop in his tracks as he felt the lace of your garter band, a low groan rumbling in his chest at the realization of what treat you had to offer for him.
“Oh fuck… Baby, are you- what do you have on under here?” He asked, breathlessly, very clearly knowing the answer before he had even asked the question, his hands now pushing further up your legs, his fingers dancing across the delicate waistband of your thong as he looked up at you with his pleading brown eyes, now growing darker and darker with lust.
“Happy Valentine’s Day, Javi.” You mewled, reaching behind you to unzip the back of your dress, letting it fall of your shoulders and reveal the red bustier underneath, the floral, lacy pattern leaving very little to the imagination, and leaving Javi’s jaw to practically drop to the floor as you showed off your hidden outfit.
“Osita… Fuck… This all for me, sweet girl? Jesus Christ.” he practically whispered to himself in disbelief, soaking in every inch of you as you stepped of back off his lap to let your dress fall to the floor, unveiling your lingerie in its entirety in front of him. Letting his elbows rest on his knees, he brought his hand over his mouth, gaping open in awe, soon balling his hand into a fist and biting down on his knuckle as you slowly turned around in a circle, showing off all angles of yourself before meeting Javi’s gaze again, smirking to yourself at the incomprehensible mess your fiance had become.
“You like it?” You giggled, raising a knowing eyebrow at Javi as you stepped back towards him, running your hands up his strong thighs hanging over the edge of the bed, letting your fingers barley brush over the undeniable tent in his pants, teasing at his belt buckle before dragging your hands back down, resting on his knees.
“Y-yeah, I- yeah, fuck.” Javi gulped, the adam’s apple in his throat bobbing as he swallowed, trying to find a way to string together a coherent sentence as you let your fingers trace over his legs and crotch, melting into a puddle under your touch.
“Yeah? I had a feeling.” You smirked, now palming at the bulge in his pants more firmly, eliciting another audible moan from Javi, his breath becoming heavy and shaky as you sat yourself back over his lap, your ass resting perfectly on top of his erection as you began to slowly swirl your hips over his. Your hands worked their way down the rest of the buttons of his shirt, creeping between the parted fabric to rest your hands on his bare chest, nestling your face in the crook of his neck as you sucked at his pulse point, whispering against his skin. “You gonna be a good boy and let me take care of you, baby?”
There were few times in his life where Javier Peña had found himself at a complete loss for words, but you had him wrapped around your finger as you sat in his lap, all dressed up just for him, whispering sweet praises in his ear did something to him that even he couldn’t quite comprehend. Truth be told, the only thought he could process right now was the all too familiar clench in his stomach and tightening in his balls leaving him on the verge of busting in his pants before you had even touched him.
Scrunching his face in concentration, Javi nodded rapidly as his hands dug a bruising grip into your hips, every grind of your ass against his crotch only tightening the undeniable knot in his gut. Javi was convinced he’d be strong enough to keep it in check, as long he could use every ounce of his being to focus on not falling apart. But that was before you decided to fight dirty and press every button you knew to make Javi absolutely crumble.
“Fuck, you’re so hard for me, baby. You want me to touch you, Javi? Let me make you feel good, sweet boy.” You cooed, nipping at his ear as your hands ran through the thick, dark curls of his hair before sliding down the width of his broad shoulders, sliding his shirt down his arms and gripping around his biceps as you sunk your hips deeper and deeper into his lap.
Before he even had time to process what was happening, Javi found himself instinctively bucking his hips up into you, holding on to you for dear life as he let out an absolutely wrecked moan, slumping his head into your shoulder as you felt a warm, wet sensation begin to spread below you.
“Fuck… Fuck me…” He whispered, silently cursing himself over his shallow breathing, making you pause in confusion as you looked down at Javi, taking a moment to quickly piece together in your brain what had just happened.
Javi had just cum in his pants like a fucking teenager.
“Javi…Javi, did you just-”
“Fuck. Fuck, I’m- I’m sorry. Fuck me.” Javi grimaced, running his hand over his face, tilting his head back up towards the ceiling, his cheeks turning red in pained embarrassment, not even able to bring himself to make eye contact with you until you brought your hand under his cheek, gently cupping his jaw and forcing his gaze onto you, locking his lips in an intense kiss before either of you had the chance to speak.
“Well, that’s a first.” You giggled, trying your best to lighten Javi’s clearly distraught mood, feeling his pouty frown through your kiss. “Javi, it’s okay, we can just- Oh!”
Before you could finish your sentence, Javi’s back was to the bed, dragging your body across his chest until you were straddling just below his shoulders, his hands digging into your ass and pulling you closer towards him.
“Nuh uh. I just need a few. Lemme make you feel good, baby. Please. Fuck, I’m sorry, you’re just so fucking sexy, I couldn’t help myself. Let me make it up to you, please, Osita.”
It wasn’t very often that you found yourself like this- you being the one who turned Javi into a whimpering and babbling mess, begging for forgiveness. And even though it was a position you found yourself in often, you very well knew that you were going to take advantage of every last second.
“Oh yeah? And how are you planning on making it up to me, Javi?” You cooed, cocking your head to the side apathetically, arms crossed over your chest as you sat straddling Javi’s.
“Sit on my face, baby, please. Fuck, I’ll make you cum as many times as you want. I wanna taste you so bad.” Javi moaned, his sweet, brown eyes pleading with you for just a taste of the arousal that had been steadily pooling between your legs.
“Yeah?” You paused, leaning down to capture his mouth in a passionate kiss, your teeth tugging at his plush bottom lip as you pulled away to nip at his jaw, “and what if I still want you to fill me up after you’re done? What if I need you to fuck me full of you?”
“Jesus fuck…” Javi groaned under his shallow breathing, “I’ll give you whatever you want, Hermosa. I promise.”
“Good boy.” You mewled, running your hands through the sweat-dampened curls of his hair before shuffling your body so your lace covered and soaking heat was hovering over Javi’s face. You began to slowly lower yourself down, Javi’s fingertips gripping the flesh of your hips, forcing you to shift your weight onto him, making you moan as you felt his strong nose brush against your clit, nudging your panties out of the way. You could feel the width of his tongue dragging along your cunt, slowly and deliberately working himself along your sensitive bundle of nerves. His face nestled between your legs, he took his time with each lick, taking extra time to press harder on the spots he knew made you weak, loving how wrecked he could tell you already were as you rolled your hips over his face. You could practically feel his smirk buried in your pussy as the movements of his tongue became more precise, flicking at your clit making you whimper as you braced your hands by burying them in his hair, tugging at the ends of his thick curls.
“Javi… Fuck, oh my god.” You cried, feeling the tension begin to build in your belly as Javi wrapped his plush lips around your mound, sucking feverishly as you rocked your hips back and forth, grinding down harder, the hairs of his mustache brushing against your thighs. You could feel him hum in approval against your cunt as your back began to arch, a familiar tingle growing at the base of your spine as his mouth latched firmer around your clit, desperate to make you come undone.
“Fuck, baby- oh shit- Javi, don’t stop, fuck, fuck, I’m so close. Fuck, I’m- mhhhmmmmmm.” Your orgasm crashed through you, pleasure overtaking your body as you came, whimpering and moaning. Your orgasm crashed through you, pleasure overtaking your body as you came, whimpering and moaning Javi’s name as he dug his fingers deeper into your flesh, holding you against him as he continued to work you through your high.
Dipping his tongue into your hole, his muscle plunged into your cunt, drinking up your arousal while the bridge of his nose brushed against your clit, making good on his promise to redeem himself from earlier, not letting up until he felt your body tense and legs begin to shake as you came again, feeling about as sturdy as a pile of jello at this point.
Your body went slack, draping your upper half over Javi’s body as you felt his face free from out from under you, looking down to see his face glistening in your slick, accompanied by a boyish grin and pleading eyes, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and gazing back up at you.
You had caught your breath enough to sit yourself back up, looking over your shoulder to see the bulge in Javi’s pants was back in full force, slowly scooting your way down his chest and stomach to sit yourself back on his lap, grinding your hips in his, circling slowly over his painfully hard bulge, digging deeper and deeper with each sway of your hips. You slid your hands up his chest, into his hair, gently tugging at his dark curls as you rocked against him. You could tell how hard Javi was trying to control himself, breathing heavily and clenching his jaw as he watched you, the moans escaping from his mouth only becoming louder as you began to gently tug at the straps of your bra, letting them fall from your shoulders, teasing him even further.
“You think you’re ready for me, baby? You’re gonna be a good boy and fill me up like you promised? You smirked, slipping your hands behind your back, you unclasped the hooks holding your top together, letting it drop to the floor and leave your top completely bare.
“Promise.” He sighed, voice trembling, feeling the muscles in his body tense with your question.
“Good.” You smirked, “Gotta ask nicely, though.”
“Osita, please, baby, fuck- please.” Javi whined, his voice ragged and wanting as his brown eyes met with yours, watching you crawl up over him, your hands now working at his belt buckle. The metal clinked as you pushed his pants down his hips before ever so gently tugging at the waistband of his boxers, already tented from his stiffness.
“Please, what, sweet boy?” You cooed, pulling just enough to let his cock spring free, revealing how painfully hard he was, his tip dark red and leaking with precum that had left additional stains on his boxers, mixing with his premature spend from earlier.
“Hermosa, please. Please, baby. I need you to fuck me, please.” Javi whimpered as you settled yourself on top of his legs, your hands now creeping towards his shaft.
“That’s better. So handsome when you beg. Need me to take care of you? I’ll take care of you, baby.” You wrapped your hand around his cock, thumbing at the precum dripping out of his tip and rubbing it around his head before taking the same hand and running it through your folds, collecting the arousal that had been rapidly pooling between your legs and using the mixture to stroke him.
With his shaft sufficiently slick, the both of you gasped as you sunk down on Javi’s length, his cock bumping against your cervix as you took every inch of him inside you, taking a moment to adjust to the sweet sting of his fullness. “Fuck, you feel so good, Javi. I love feeling you inside me. Can’t wait to feel you dripping down my thighs. Gonna keep me full of you all night.”
The groan Javi let out was low and deep, feeling your hands rest against his chest as your hips rolled back and forth, burying Javi’s cock deep inside the warm, wet walls of your cunt. The hairs at the base of Javi’s cock rubbed deliciously on your clit, the sensation of that, combined with how frantically you were rocking your hips back and forth had your heart racing, so worked up from trying to keep your cool that you could feel the tingle building at the base of your spine rapidly.
“I will. Please let me, I will. I’ll fuck myself so deep inside you you’ll be dripping out of me for days. Fuck, I wanna cum so deep in you, please, Osita. Please, baby.”
You could tell Javi was close, too- The gritting of his teeth, the wild and wanting look in his sweet brown eyes, the sloppy pace of his dick pounding into you, all the tells you knew far too well to realize he was quickly about to come undone again. The arousal pooling in your belly continued to build, the lewd noises of your wetness and mixed moans coating the walls of your bedroom as your fingers dug into the skin of Javi’s chest.
“Fuck, fuck- I love you, Javi. Holy shit- I’m so close. I need you to fill me up, baby.”
“I love you too, Hermosa. I’m not gonna last much longer either, so fucking wet and tight, oh my god- I’m gonna fill you up so good, baby. I promise, promise I’ll be a good boy and fuck every last drop in you.”
It wasn’t often that you had seen Javi turn into such a mess, watching him whimper and beg to with such desperation and neediness, barely hanging on by a thread from the moment you had crossed the threshold of your bedroom, and holy shit, it was the hottest thing you’d ever seen. Javi had already cum once without you even touching him, and now, he was so worked up he was teetering on the brink of falling apart again.
In a frantic desperation, Javi sat himself up, caging your chest against his, wrapping his arms around your back as he held you in his lap, his face buried in the crook of your neck, sweaty curls of his hair resting against your shoulder, while he fucked up into you, each thrust becoming reckless than the last.
“Oh fuck, Javi, fuck, don’t stop- fuck, fuck, I’m gonn-ahhhhh”
The coil building in your belly snapped, screaming Javi’s name over and over again as your cunt clenched around his cock, feeling your orgasm flood your body with pleasure. You braced your hands on Javi’s chest as you felt your body go numb, euphoria flowing through your veins while Javi fucked you through your high, quickly chasing his own.
“That’s it baby. Fuck, Mierda- God, you’re so fucking perfect. Tu eres mio para siempre. Mi amor, mi vida, fuck, te amo más de lo que las palabras pueden decir. (You’re mine forever. My love, my life, fuck, I love you more than words can say). Jesus, fuck- Oh fuck, Osita, fuck, I’m gonna cum too, I-” Javi quickly followed behind you, thrusting a few more times up into you before letting out a low, ragged groan as he spilled deep inside your pussy, his warm spend coating your walls, making sure to milk himself of every last drop, as promised. You could feel the mixture of the both of you leaking down your legs into Javi’s lap as you sat on top of him, his dick still pulsing as your chests heaved in sync, squeezing your eyes tightly to try and bring yourself back to earth.
“Jesus Fucking Christ…” Javi muttered under his breath, his body still slumped into yours until you began running your fingers through his hair, prompting him to look back up at you, the blissed out grins on both your faces making you let out a quiet laugh of surprised disbelief at what had just happened.
“Happy Valentine’s Day, Javier Pena.” You giggled, cupping his face, tilting it up towards yours and locking his lips in a long and tender kiss.
“Happy fucking Valentine’s Day, baby. Fuck, that was hot. Sorry, uh- sorry about earlier.” He sighed sheepishly, gesturing over to the very thoroughly stained pair of pants now lying in a crumpled heap on the floor.
“It’s okay. Definitely a good confidence booster if me putting some lingerie on for you is enough to make you blow your load faster than a middle school boy.” You snickered, giving Javi a playful nudge as he rolled his eyes at you, letting out a little sigh.
“Shut up. You have no fucking idea. God, you’re so fucking sexy, you know that? I can’t believe you get to be my Valentine for the rest of my life. I’m a lucky fucking man, I’ll tell you that much.”
“I could say the same, handsome. I love you, Javi. Alright, what do you say we go clean up so we can have real dessert. I have a whole plate full of cookies left over from our class party, along with some very questionable candy from several 3rd graders.”
“Sounds like the perfect plan to me.”
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Daddy Issues Part 2
Best Friend’s Dad!Miguel x Reader
TW: a lot of angst, a lot of sad, a little bit of fluff, jealousy, smut p in v, oral (m and f receiving) awkward shit between Gabi and you and Miguel.
AN: ok here it is! Part 2 is here and now I can focus on HTTK so here ya go :)
Part 1
Weeks. You’d been avoiding Miguel for weeks.
Every day, you thought about that night. The way he touched you, spoke to you, held you. You had sex before, sure, but that… that was next level. A different world.
That was intimacy.
You cried almost every day. He had tried calling you a few times, but you never answered. The whole event felt too painful and your heart couldn’t take it.
Gabi came over and you told her a story that you had met some guy and he swept you off your feet, but he was controlling and had a temper. She sympathized and held you as you cried and that made everything so much worse. How could you do this to her? Sleep with her dad and lie to her? You had to be the worst friend in the world.
During this time, you had finally moved out of your and Gabi’s apartment, and spent some time back with your dad while looking for a new apartment and getting some auditions.
As you sat on the couch and shoved popcorn in your mouth, your eyes still watered and burned. Some gross love story was on and it made you sad once more, the lingering heaviness in your body coming to the forefront of your mind.
The doorbell could be heard and you got up to answer it, not giving a damn that you were in baggy sweats and a big sweater. Swinging open the door, your eyes froze.
“M-Miguel?” You sputtered, seeing him stand awkwardly at your door. “What are you-“
“Miguel!” Your dad cheered and hugged his friend, pulling him inside past your shocked frame. “We’re having a family night again. You used to love those, hon!” Your dad continued and Gabi stepped inside with her boyfriend. You nodded and followed.
Wonderful.
You moved close to your best friend and sat on the couch, Gabi rubbing your arm comfortingly as she tried to make you feel better. The second Miguel looked at your small frame, face stained with tears and a bit puffy from crying, he hated it. And it wasn’t like you were enjoying it either. All of your emotions started to come up in your throat like nausea.
The guilt you felt about lying to Gabi, the anger you felt towards him making you feel-
How did he make you feel?
Angry. But also… sad. And amazing.
You couldn’t deny the whole experience was almost otherworldly.
You got up abruptly and mumbled a quick “I’ll go make something,” before hurrying into the kitchen.
Miguel moved to follow you before Gabi caught his arm.
“Don’t. She might snap at you.”
Miguel nodded, “that’s ok, she can if she wants to.” And with that, he continued.
You stood, turning on the oven to put in some cookies. You loved baking cookies. They were soft and warm, like a hug. You could really use a hug.
“Mi cielo…” his voice had that same effect as he spoke while you stared ahead at the tray of dough.
“Go away.” Is all you could say without turning into a sobbing mess. His hand found your shoulder and you spun around fast, stepping out of his vicinity. “I said go away.” You repeated and heaved, the upset building in you wildly.
He clenched his jaw, “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
“This is not the time or place to do this, Miguel. My dad and my best friend- your daughter is in the room right next to us. If they hear this, neither of them will forgive us.”
The words coming out of your mouth made your hands tremble and your stomach sick. How could you have let this happen?
You turned your head and moved to check on the cookies. “We need to act like nothing happened.”
“But I-“
“No. Nothing happened.” You repeated and he swallowed the lump in his throat.
“I’d like to talk about this another time, because while you have nothing to say, I do. And I’d like it if you'd hear me out.” His words made your mouth dry as you just sighed and nodded, not able to even answer. Your brain was fried, you felt ambushed. You knew your dad was just trying to cheer you up, but he had made this so much worse for tonight. To sit in a room with two people you lied to and the person your heart aches for the most, yearns to touch and hold and love. But that could never happen. He was best friends dad, he was supposed to be like family.
Once he exited the kitchen, you let a few silent tears fall. The conflict inside of you was roaring like a storm at sea.
You’d finally found an apartment, a place by your dance agency that had a beautiful view of the city. It was absolutely perfect. Cute little kitchen, a master bedroom and a big closet, everything was a dream. You signed those papers and paid everything upfront, having saved a lot from sharing an apartment with Gabi.
Moving in was easy, since you didn’t have a lot of furniture and your dad said he’d help you out. He planned a fun day of helping you move in.
And he invited Miguel and Gabi.
Yay.
As you saw your father standing in your new doorway, your arms swung around his neck. “Thank you, dad.” You couldn’t help but be giddy about it all.
Gabi was behind him, and behind her was… Miguel. You hugged Gabi and gave Miguel a polite smile, mumbling a “hi Mr. O’Hara,” and pulling in Gabi to show her around.
The men started to carry in the big furniture, including the couch your father bought you as a gift and the bedframe you got at an antique shop. You plopped down on the mattress and spread out your arms, staring up at the ceiling. This was the beginning of your true freedom, your independence.
Someone clearing their throat stirred you out of your daze and you leaned up on your elbows to see Miguel. You just huffed. “The boxes are all in the living room.” He said and you nodded, “your dad brought some food and beers, said we should all break in your new place together.”
“Of course he did.” You murmured and bit your lip in frustration, trying not to be so rude. “Fine.”
An hour later and you were still stone cold sober, not having even a sip of a beer and only drinking water. Miguel was still nursing his first beer as Gabi and your dad had already made it to their second.
“So, Miguel!” Your dad smiled, leaning on a knee, “how’s the girlfriend?” Your body stiffened and your eyes stayed trained on the water bottle in your hand.
“Ah, she’s not my girlfriend, it’s not serious.” He went on and you began to drown him out. You didn’t want to hear any of this, you just wanted to be alone in your new apartment.
“Come on, man. Six months and still no title?”
“Six months?” You gapped and everyone turned to you, making you glance around and realize your error. “I-I’m just shocked, is all… that’s a long time to not have some sort of commitment… or loyalty.” Your eyes flickered to his and a slight bit of hurt and anger tinged his features, still trying to play it off as if he was unbothered.
“Like I said, it’s not serious. But it feels nice to be with someone mature…” he leaned back and took a long swig of his beer, eyes never breaking from yours. You tightened the grip on the bottle in your hands and then looked back to your dad.
“Sorry dad, didn’t realize you were the only single person in the room now.” Your smile was normal and sweet to everyone else, as if you were teasing your father, but Miguel saw through it. This was a competition now, a challenge.
“You have a boyfriend?” His voice was meant to sound relaxed, but it was a bit harsh.
“Oh no no, it’s casual. Just hanging out.” You shrugged, “men are really just a distraction right now, ya know? They all just want one thing, and I’m not into the whole ‘multiple women’ vibe. Men who entertain more than one woman at a time are disgusting. Pigs, really.” You went on about this and his mouth found the bottle once more, tipping it back and downing the rest. He immediately moved to pop open another and you smirked.
You, 1. Miguel, 0.
He was quiet the rest of the night, listening to Gabi and your father trade stories as you laughed along and gave snarky comments. When the night was finally over, you wished everyone goodbye and were about to shut the door when a hand stopped you.
“Forgot something.” Miguel’s voice said from the hallway and you found yourself being pushed backwards by him opening the door wider. He closed it behind himself and his eyes glared into yours with fury you recognized once before.
“So, a new guy?” He spit out and you stayed quiet. No words came out and this made him angrier. “What? Nothing else to say? You sure had a hell of a lot to say before, why not now?”
“You’re drunk, Mr. O’Hara-“
“Cut it with the ‘Mr. O’Hara’ bullshit.” He barked and you flinched, “you’re seeing some fuckin twerp now?”
“You have a girlfriend.” You spat back at him and he rolled his eyes.
“She’s not my girlfriend, we’re just-“
“Six months. You’ve been seeing her, taking her to dinner, seducing her for six months. That’s a relationship!” You shouted at him and Miguel’s eyes just fell to the floor. “Just get out, I don’t owe you an explanation. I can see whoever I want, I can fuck around and be a whore if I really wanted to! It’s none of your business!”
“You’re mine, so it’s my business.”
“No I’m not.” You yelled and he grew still. The heavy tension fell on your shoulders and your tears spilled down your cheeks, the breath in your lungs burning from inhaling too hard. The two of you stared at each other for a bit before you whispered, “You and I had sex. That doesn’t mean I’m yours. Not when you were fucking her the whole time.” His eyes dropped to your hands and he just nodded before clicking his tongue.
“You’re right. I’m too drunk for this… congratulations on the new apartment, amorcita.” His tall frame walked to the door and before you could stop him, the door was shut and he was gone.
Days later, and you were still a mopy mess. Everyone noticed your lack of friendly-nature, it was like the sun was gone. A knock on your door made you stir and sit upright. You opened it and saw your father, smiling face and holding a bag of groceries. Your dad stepped in, put everything away, then sat on the couch. You’d been crying before he got there and he saw that, wiping a tear from your cheek.
“You gonna tell me what’s going on?” He asked quietly, like he was trying to soothe a beast. You cried more, surprised that the well still was not dry, and he held your hand. “It was Miguel, wasn’t it?”
Your whole being shuddered and your eyes snapped up to his.
“Yeah, I see how you look at him, how you smile… I might be an old man, but I know my little girl.” He pet your head. “Listen. I’m not going to say I’m happy about this, because I think he’s far too old for you… but you’re a woman, and I know I raised a smart girl. Just always think about if he’s worth possibly losing your friendship with Gabi.” He pecked your forehead as you sniffled, thinking about his words. As he stood up, you grabbed his hand.
“Dad?” Your voice cracks and he looks down to your sad form. “I love you. Thank you.”
You fell back asleep soon after. Sleep was your only safety blanket, your only holy ground. It was the coping mechanism you shouldn’t have, but desperately needed. Sometimes, you’d end up sleeping at your father’s house from not wanting to be so alone.
Time went by so slowly and finally, a phone call woke you out of your deep sleep, answering without noticing the name. “Hello?”
“Can I come over to talk?” Miguel’s voice was full of gentle fear, like he was afraid to scare you away.
“Where are you telling Gabi that you’re going?”
“She’s with her boyfriend. Mi cielo, Please.”
“Fine. I’m at my dad’s tonight. He'll be home in an hour, and I don’t want him here while we talk about this.” You rolled out of bed and moved to the bathroom.
“I’m on my way.” You hung up after he said that and placed your phone face down on the bathroom sink. Staring at your reflection made you realize something…
You looked awful. You got yourself ready as usual, finally washing your face fully and doing some skin care, brushing and flossing your teeth, brushing your hair and pulling it into a ponytail, and finally putting on a summer sun dress.
You looked like yourself again. And it felt good.
The knock at the door was like a calling card for death, it felt like the end and a sinking feeling grew heavy in your stomach. Thank god for waterproof mascara.
Opening the door, you saw him standing there with a single rose in his hands. You stared at the flower before meeting his eyes.
“Why… did you bring that?”
“Because I saw it and it reminded me of you.” His words made your heart flutter, made your head almost dizzy with the happy hormones, but you needed to keep your cool.
“Um. Thank you.” You took the flower carefully and stepped aside so he could come in. “We… need to talk.”
“I know.” He nodded and sat down, spreading his legs a bit and unbeknownst to him, showing off his large size. He watched you sit across from him, crossing your ankles and playing with the flower in your hand as he cleared his voice. “I should apologize.”
“Yes, you should.”
He smiled, your biting and firey personality showing again. There was his girl.
“When your dad called and asked about the shirt, I was surprised. I didn’t think an old man like me could- would ever get that attraction from a young woman again…” he spoke, “you’re everything that a man could love. Everything a man could ever need, but… I’m too old for you, and I don’t want to hurt your friendship with my daughter.”
You nodded along. His eyes followed your movements, as if waiting for a response, but you didn’t give one.
“So?”
“So, if that’s all you had to say, you can leave now.”
“What?” He was shocked. He- he was trying to admit he wanted you but couldn’t have you, and you were just brushing him off?
“You heard me. You might have another date lined up after this, and I wouldn’t want you to keep her waiting.” The rage in your throat was coming out fast, and you might just start yelling at him if he didn’t leave soon. “Spare me the pity party for your age, Miguel. You know that you’re gorgeous, you can get anyone you want. So cut the shit. Who is she?” You barked and he leaned back, surprised.
“What are you talking about?”
“That woman! She made you so hot and bothered on that stupid date that you fucked the first girl you saw afterwards. Is that the woman you’d been seeing? What’s her name?” You bubbled, louder now. His eyes saw something he never thought he would in yours. Jealousy.
“She- she’s a coworker, it was just dinner-“ he mumbled and you laughed. You laughed!
“Just dinner? Do you think I’m stupid? That’s the one you’d been seeing for months, right?”
“Mi corazón, I don’t know what you think happened, but it didn’t-“ and something hit him. He didn’t owe you an explanation about her. But you wanted one.
You shared his feelings.
This was a revelation. You weren't upset because you regretted everything, or were worried about Gabi.
You were upset because you liked him.
Miguel smiled wide and that just stoked the fire inside of you.
“You think this is funny?”
“Hysterical, actually.” He moved forward and grabbed your wrist, yanking you to sit on his lap. “Because she could never be you, amor.” He tilted your chin with his index finger to look up at him. “I’d choose you a thousand times over.”
You were speechless. “You… would?”
“Well, that depends on your relationship with this boy, because if you were single, I’d chose you. I’d ask you on a date.” His words made your face burn with a heavy blush. “So?”
“So that boy… never existed.” You admitted shyly, avoiding his eyes contact as he laughed harder. “Shut up!”
“Go on a date with me.” He repeated and you nodded, then swallowed thickly.
“But… we need to tell Gabi.” You announced and his body stiffened, that familiar fear he felt before creeping in. “She deserves to know what’s going on.” You watched his eyes. “We already crossed a line we can’t erase, she should be aware that we might start seeing each other.” His hand found yours and he sighed, nodding.
The front door opened and your father stepped inside, barely glancing at the two of you as you both froze. As he took his shoes off, he smirked at you two.
“So the talk went well, I see, which means I’m making some rules. Rule number one, no sex in the house.”
“Dad!” You shouted, standing up fast and stepping forward.
“And protection is a must. My little girl isn’t getting pregnant before she can make her dreams come true-“
“Oh my god, stop talking!” You begged and he folded his arms, Miguel standing up behind you.
“He’s right. He’s just doing what any good father would do, mi amor.”
You visibly saw your father cringe. “Rule number two, no lovey-dovey talk in front of me please. That includes pet names.” He smiled, "I'll let you two have a few more minutes, but then I’m watching the game.” He walked to the kitchen, to which you moved to look at Miguel again.
“So. I’ll see you…”
“Tomorrow. We can tell Gabriella tomorrow.” His voice was firm, a man on a mission. Your man on a mission.
You were dressed in her favorite color. Why? Well, since you were about to tell her, essentially, thatyou wanted to fuck her dad, you figured you’d try to score all the points you could get. You’d keep the fact that you did already a secret for now.
As you got to Miguel’s house, your heart pounded in your chest. He wanted you to meet there so her boyfriend didn’t have to be subjected to the innate awkwardness of the situation.
You tugged at your skirt as you stood, finally knocking on the door. It swung open mere seconds after and you came face to face with Miguel. Your heart skipped as he looked at you and smiled.
“You look… wow.” His eyes were so sweet and puppy like, you couldn’t help but laugh. This gargantuan man was so soft for you, and you thrived for every second.
Holding your hand, he spun you to see the back of your outfit too, then pulled your hands to rest on his shoulders and bent down to press a slow kiss to your lips.
Grabbing the backs of your thighs, he lifted you to wrap around his waist and your hands slid into his thick brown hair as you kissed him back. Your back hit the couch and you gasped as his lips connected with your throat.
“Miguel- she’ll be here any minute!” You spoke, trying not to moan as he smirked against your skin, pulling down one strap.
“I’ll make it quick, I promise.” He whispered and moved his hands under your dress skirt, sliding your panties to the side. “Can’t help it, mi cielo, you get me so hard just looking at you in these damn dresses.” His words had you breathless, combined with his fingers prodding your entrance. The unzip of his pants made you practically dizzy, feeling his swollen tip dipping into you a bit. You took in a sharp breath as he groaned, “so wet already,” and pushed into you. The stretch was intense and your body curled into him instinctively from the burn. “Just a few more seconds, I promise.” His forehead leaned against your and you nodded, your hands pulling at his hair and making him want more of you. His mouth began to suck a bruise into the cleavage of your breasts and your head fell backwards as he sunk into you more, finally bottoming out completely. It was surreal, being filled with him, surrounded by his large body, and having all of your senses drowned in him. Your eyes almost crossed from the feeling it brought you and if you’d been more aware, you’d have heard the door open. But you didn’t, and so when he began rocking into you and lifted both your legs over one shoulder, your mouth fell open in blind pleasure. Your name fell from his lips and your nipples were rock hard from the sensation of him brushing his pelvis against your clit.
“Dad?” A feminine voice struck your ears and your eyes snapped open, upside down and staring at Gabriella looking away. Looking up, you realized Miguel was still moving. He didn’t hear her.
“M-Miguel, stop!” You called out and he immediately halted his movements, looking over your face. You pulled your straps onto your shoulders and stared at Gabi’s face, eyes wide with complete shock. Miguel’s eyes followed yours and he finally realized what was happening.
“Mierda…”
An awkward 20 minutes later of Gabriella refusing to come out of her room, she finally let you in and you sat on the bed with her, face still red as a beet and knee bouncing anxiously.
“So. You and my dad.” She said and you looked up with fear and regret.
“Gabi, I’m sorry, it just happened-”
“I figured it might.” She trailed off and your mouth hung open. “You always sucked at hiding your feelings, and he was always way too protective of you.” She stared at her shoes, “I just didn’t think it’d actually happen, ya know? Like I knew it could, but I didn’t think it actually would.” Your eyes filled with tears, scared to lose your best friend.
“Gabi… I’ll stop if you’re uncomfortable, we’ll stop-”
“And make you both miserable? No thanks. If there’s anyone I’d want my dad to be with, it’s you.” She sat next to you finally and put a hand on your shoulder. “And same with you. He’s had a little crush on you since your sophomore year of college, always just kinda staring, ya know? I tried to ignore it, but when we went to dinner and you two were dancing… it was just kind of obvious. And I want him to be happy.” Gabriella held your hand and you immediately started crying.
“Gabi-“
“But I’ll hurt you if you hurt him. And same goes for him. If you two do this, neither of you can fuck it up. I mean it!” She gave you a serious look and you nodded, smiling and wiping your eyes.
“I love you so much, Gabi.” You whispered and hugged her tight. She sighed and hugged you back. “Just… please don’t ever make me see that ever again.”
“I’m so sorry, I won’t!” You pulled away and looked at her face.
“And I’m not calling you mom either, so don’t ask.”
“God no don’t do that. I would hate that.”
“Ok.” She looked away. “So… is this why you were avoiding me?”
“Yeah… I couldn’t really face him.”
“Well, try not to think about that anymore, since this is happening now.” She heard a knock at the door and Miguel’s embarrassed form stood in the doorway, guilt on his features.
“You!” Gabriella stood up and threw a pillow at him, to which he caught reflexively.
“I’m sorry! I thought you were going to come back later.” His hands went up defensively and she glared at him, making you laugh.
“I don’t ever want to see that ever again. I don’t want to hear it, I don’t even want to think about it.” She shivered with disgust and you started laughing. Everything felt right.
That was until Miguel's work event, which was a few weeks later. He’d invited you as his date, and you excitedly agreed. Picking out your dress with Gabriella, you pulled out a long gown with a high slit to the leg.
“At least with that one, he won’t rip it.”
“Gabi!” You flicked her arm and she shrugged.
“Isn’t Danielle gonna be there?”
“Who?”
“Danielle, that woman he was seeing before you two started dating?” Gabriella glanced up at you from her phone as you stopped everything you had been doing.
“Oh.” Is all you could fathom. That’s right, she was a coworker. Your hands trembled a bit and Gabriella rested a hand on your shoulder.
“He never talked about her, and all he ever talks about anymore is you. So don’t worry.” You nodded and stared down at the blue dress. You bought that dress.
It’d been a few weeks of you and Miguel being together, practically inseparable. He had you sleeping at his house every other night, refusing to let you leave because ‘driving home would be too dangerous at that time of night.’
You knew he just wanted to hold you all night, to continue the constant overstimulation he loved to push you through. Whispers of ‘you can do it,’ ‘one more for me,’ ‘such a good girl, mi cielo.’ You’d twitch, tears streaming down your cheeks from the burn of your muscles, legs around his shoulders as his face buried into your cunt. His face was wet from how many times you’d already been pushed too far over the edge, finally kissing up your body as he smirked, pushing into you. No matter how many times you’d orgasmed, it would always be a stretch to fit him, your eyes rolling to the back of your head as he chuckled. He loved watching you come undone all over his cock all night long, leaving bite marks on your chest and shoulders, feeling your nails leave angry, red marks across his back. God forbid anyone ever saw you two naked the next morning, they’d think you both got into a war with stray cats. Your favorite was when he was about to come inside of you, and he’d pull your wrist to his lips, kissing you there while he unloaded in you, then dropping his forehead to yours and smiling.
The night of the event, you were pushing your breasts together in the dress. Tugging the fabric to fit perfectly, you stared at yourself in the mirror. The navy blue velvet was snug against your curves, the neckline plunging down the center and the slit high on your thigh. It was long sleeved, balancing how much skin was showing perfectly, and you paired it with silver strappy heels. Bouncy curls falling down your shoulders and elegant, simple makeup, you were the picture of grace and beauty.
Yet, the knot in your stomach made you want to lie and say you couldn’t go, that you were sick, that something came up, that you couldn’t go- anything to stay home and not have to see her.
But it was too late, and a knock at your door made you hyper aware of the time. Grabbing a clutch you’d picked to match the dress, you hurried and opened the door.
“Mi cielo-” His eyes dragged over your form and then back up at you. “Preciosa, por dios.” His voice dropped an octave and you smiled, feeling him pull your hand into his chest and kissing your wrist once more, your favorite feeling. You blushed as he spun you around with him, kissing right below your ear and moving lower and lower…
“I’d ravish you right here and now if we weren’t going to be late.”
“I think I’d rather have you take this off of me.” You answered and he pulled away a little, checking your expression.
“Por que?”
“I just- I’m nervous.” You avoided his eyes.
“I’ll be by your side the whole time, I promise.” He spoke softly and you nodded, biting the inside of your cheek. That wasn’t the problem.
Arriving, you couldn’t help but stare at the beautiful decor and elegant architecture of the chosen establishment. It felt like something from a movie, and you felt eyes on you. Turning, you saw Miguel staring at you with a wide grin on his lips, just watching you as you gawked at the interior. His hand slipped into yours and you smiled up at him.
“Let’s find our seats, amorcita.” He whispered and kissed your temple, escorting you to the table in the front of the room. You both went to get drinks and he began to mingle, introducing you to many people you couldn’t remember the names of.
A pair of heels clacking from behind you made you turn a bit and there she was.
That woman.
You made eye contact with her and she refused to look away, practically glaring into your soul.
“Y-You must be Danielle.” You reached out to shake her hand, and she obliged, looking you up and down in judgment. Everything about this introduction made you want to crawl under a rock. She hated you and you would too if someone stole Miguel from you. You originally did, actually.
“Yes, and you’re the little brat who stormed out of his house, right? The one his daughter’s age?” She answered and your stomach dropped. Shit. She tilted her head and gave you a condescending smirk. “Not much to look at, are you? But I guess sometimes a man wants someone who can make him feel young and alive again. That’s a phase, and he’ll get over it-”
Miguel’s arm wrapped around your waist as he walked up to you two and he stared down at Danielle, making her suddenly stop talking and start playing nice in front of him. Your body was shaking a bit, thinking about what she’d said.
“Miguel, nice to see you.” She smiled up at him, bright red lips showing off her white teeth, and you immediately felt inferior. This was a grown woman, an adult who’d worked her way to her position, with degrees in science and more. She was on par with Miguel, and you were just a wannabe dancer.
“I wish I could say the same, Danielle.” His somewhat rude answer made you gawk up at him.
“M-Miguel-” You stuttered, and he continued.
“This is my girlfriend, and I’d appreciate it if you didn’t make her uncomfortable just because you and I have a brief history.” This was too much for you. He was protecting your honor, standing up for you, but you felt pain in your chest from the anxiety. You thought you might pass out then and there. Pulling your hand from his, you rushed to find a quiet place alone. Moving to a hallway separate from everything else, you pushed open a door and sat at a chair and table. The lights were out and you heaved in a long, much-needed breath. A presence could be felt behind you near the door and you slumped your shoulders.
“I just needed a minute, I’m sorry if I embarrassed you.” You apologized and his hands on your shoulders made you feel even worse.
“Amorcita, you have nothing to apologize for. She shouldn’t have been so rude.” He whispered, pulling your hand to stand up. “Let me show you that she was wrong.”
His lips trail down your shoulder and he begins to unzip your dress. Your breath stutters and you glance to the door.
“Did you lock the door?” You ask, panting already from how hot his kisses get you.
“It doesn’t lock, so we have to be quiet.” The dress begins to fall from your arms and you gasp as the cold air against your chest, feeling his hands hold your sides and push the fabric to fall to the floor. He trails one of his hands to touch your clit and he smirks. “No panties? Sucia…” Your head falls backwards onto his shoulder as you grab his arm and he kisses into your hair. “Come on, preciosa, just focus on me.” His words send a shiver down your spine, fingers rubbing in circles as you see stars. Sliding down further, his finger enters you and he growls. “Dripping already, perfect for me.”
You moan and his other hand wraps around your mouth. “Quiet, besita.” You nod and writhe against his hand as he continues plunging his finger inside of you. The curl opf his digit makes you see white behind your eyelids and you feel everything inside of you explode, unexpected and fast. He takes his finger out of you and licks it, unzipping his pants and pulling himself out. He tugs his slacks down a bit and bends you over the dining table, hand sliding up your back and tangling into the hair at the base of your neck. Sliding into you, he puts his other hand onto the front of your belly and thrusts hard. The bulge moves into his hand and his head drops a bit, feeling himself through your stomach making him even more wild for you. Your body was perfect for him, the best thing that had happened to him in a long time, and he couldn’t be more grateful. He wanted to show you that gratitude and so he’d pleasure your body until you understood what you meant to him.
Your gasps and quiet begs made him continue to slowly thrust and rut into your heat. It was sensual and rough, without being too fast, and this made you practically melt in his hands. Your coil was tightening within the seconds and the pull you felt against your scalp as he pulled your back into his chest, now fucking up into you from behind harder. The new angle made you snap, making your mouth drop open and heave in a loud, muffled shriek. You couldn’t help it, he was always so good at maneuvering your body. Your entire being trembled and he pulled out of you, which made you push him backward. He stumbled into the wall behind him and you got on your knees, tongue out and immediately sucking around him. His hot length in your lips was absolutely heavenly, and seeing as you two hadn’t done this before, he was watching you with wild, eager eyes. The view of you on your knees between your legs, his cock in your mouth, and you slurping him like a woman possessed made him practically insane. Miguel couldn’t take much more, and when he felt the tip of his dick hit that back of your throat, that was his last straw. He came hard down your throat and you gagged on the thick spurts, but not once did you cough or spit. You drank it up, licking your lips and never breaking eye contact once.
He was frozen, shocked. His precious girl, his angel… his innocent woman was everything he dreamed of and more. He’d been holding back and staying on the more gentle side, but now? Oh, now you’d opened a door that he didn’t ever want to close.
Standing up once more, completely naked, you bat your eyes to him and he pulled you against him, kissing you feverishly. After a moment more of hard, rough kisses, you panted and pulled away.
“We have to go back out there.” You whispered and he huffed.
“What if I don’t want to?”
“You’re giving a speech, Miguel, you have to go back out there.” You insisted. His hands gripped you with no intent of letting go, but you were able to pry him off of you. Picking up your dress, you wiggle it back on and properly placed, but the marks on your body and the makeup on his face was hard to miss. He tucked himself back into his pants and groaned, trying to pull himself together. You both worked to make yourselves presentable in silence and finally turned back to each other.
He watched you smile a bit and reach for his hand, and he knew she was wrong. This wasn’t a phase. He loved you. He would keep you forever and there was no possible way he’d ever think of anyone else ever again.
Going back out to the party, you both stood by the bar and you excused yourself, walking to the ladies room while he waited for your drinks. You stood in the mirror and stared at your reflection. Your hair was a mess now, and your lipstick was smudged, as well as a few black mascara marks from tearing up while gagging on his cock. You couldn’t help but smile at this, until you saw Danielle behind you. Turning to her, a fear struck you but immediately dissipated as you smirked.
“What’s that look for?” She questioned and you couldn’t help but laugh,
“Just thinking about how unsatisfied he must have been if you couldn’t keep him.” You stared directly into her eyes. “I was planning on being the bigger person, but after having sex with him just now, I think I’ll say fuck that and give you my honest opinion. You’re a miserable, boring bitch. Have a great dinner and I hope you find someone as vanilla and mundane as you.” Your words were like knives being thrown and each one landed with precision and grace. You weren’t one to back down and you wouldn’t start now. Walking out of the bathroom, you turned back to say one last thing.
“And you should know, Miguel never even mentioned you.” You winked as her mouth dropped, leaving without another word. Finding your wonderful boyfriend again, he handed you the drink you had ordered and you bit your lip.
“What’s that look for?”
“I may have said a few things to Danielle just now.”
Miguel blinked with surprise and just laughed. “That’s my fiesty girl.” He said and sipped his drink, slipping his hand around your waist again.
The night went by beautifully after that, talking and laughing with his friends and hearing his speech. You two had left with smiles on both of your faces, and that night, Miguel proved over and over how much he cared for you.
And he continued to prove it every day for the rest of your lives.
Epilogue
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#miguel spiderverse#miguel x reader#miguel o’hara smut#miguel o’hara#miguel o’hara x reader#miguel spiderman#angst#miguel o'hara#miguel smut
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