#( wc; 1464 )

[jeogiyo-noona-hokshi]

ok life sucks. gonna try and write more short stories during the summer lol

TW: death, blood

WC: 1464

Elaine dreamed of spending the rest of her life with her childhood friend Batur. They had been friends since birth, since their parents were close friends. When Elaine’s parents died, her aunt gained custody over her. She never liked Elaine and sent her off to a boarding school so she would be fit to enter noble society. Not someone who played with a stable boy like Batur.

Years passed, Batur had developed a dream of being a soldier, while Elaine entered noble society. When Batur was assigned to work as a guard at Elaine’s residence, they quickly fell in love; since he was no longer a stable boy, the aunt agreed to letting them marry.The wedding has been in the making for two years, distant relatives neither of the two knew kept making demands and the date kept moving farther back and back.

Elaine looks down into her wooden mug, a foamy green substance jiggled inside. She stuck a spoon in and played with it absently, sighing as thoughts weighed on her. What if Batur dies early in life? What if I die and leave him? What if our kids die? Thoughts like these often occupied her thoughts. Memories of her childhood swam in her head, seeing a fire blazing up from her house, her father’s marred and burned figure stumbling towards her. Her mother limp in his arms. Before they could reach their crying child, her father collapsed and fell to the ground. Elaine still remembers the sound that his skull made when his head hit a rock.

A young Elaine stumbles towards her parents, tears and snot running down her face as she shakes her father’s arm. No movement.

Blood spills onto the ground around her father’s head, soaking into the clothes and onto the young girl’s bare knees. The little girl turns towards the mother, who rolled away from the father. Crawling over to her, the girl shakes her mother. No movement. No breathing. But no blood. Just a marred figure. The girl stayed there, shaking her mother until Batur’s father came and took Elaine to his house. She was alone.

Elaine shakes her head, sucking in a sharp breath as she shovels some more of the substance into her mouth. It’s smooth like a creamy soup, savory like one as well, but there is a spicy sweetness to it. Elaine loves having this on days where her throat hurts and her worries are too much.

As she scoops up another glob of the substance, a voice catches her attention, “-eternal life!” Elaine looks over to the origin of the voice and sees a group of older women sitting around a table, their cheeks flushed and speech slurred. The lady who was speaking had a round figure, with red hair done up into a bun, loose curls straying around her face. Her cheeks sagged and jiggled as she rocked back on her chair in a fit of laughter, “Wouldn’t that be nice? We could all be young again!” The woman around the table laughed with her as they took more swigs from their cups.

“I heard it is real though, do you know the crooked witch in the forest?” The lady leans forwards, her voice pitching upwards. The other women shake their heads as they look at the lady, “She is supposedly the only person in our region to pull off eternal life.”

“I thought that it was for lovers, not singles?” One of the women questioned.

“It is, maybe her lover doesn’t like coming out of that nasty old hut.” All the women laugh again, but Elaine had heard enough.

Elaine puts some coins on her table and walks briskly out the door, set to give her and Batur a future that is bright.

As Elaine let the door close behind her, a man swiveled around in a chair towards the group of women, “Ye know that ye have to kill ye lover to get the blasted elixir?” He croaks.

“No, how would it be a lover's elixir if the lover dies?” One of the women exclaim.

“Ai have heard rumors that when ye kills ye lover, the lover becomes a part of ye.” The women gasp, “Ai don’t mess with ye magic, there is always a blasted catch.”

***

Elaine walks up to the hut of the old witch, the wooden structure leans to the side, looking like if a whisper was uttered it would fall to the ground. Ivy overtakes the walls and hangs off the roof, the only clear area is the doorway, where a piece of fabric hangs.

Elaine walks up and gently raps on the doorway, “Hello?” She calls out.

Shuffling sounds from inside as mumbling words get closer to the door, “Yes? What do you want?” A lady, who seems to be around Elaine’s age, stands tall in front of her. Blonde, wavy hair cascades around her, threatening to touch the ground as the lady leans against the frame. Her blue eyes piercing Elaine’s as she sticks her tongue in her cheek.

“Oh, hello,” Elaine stutters out, “I was wondering if you could umm…tell me how to get the lover’s eternal elixir?” The last part comes out in barely a whisper as she hides behind her brown hair.

A smile makes its way across the witch’s face, “Why yes…come on in dear.” The witch moves the fabric to the side allowing Elaine to walk in. The room was as bare as can be, two stools sitting in the middle of the room, a mat in a corner with a blanket thrown across, and a fireplace with a cabinet next to it.

Elaine makes her way to the stool and sits down, clearing her throat, “I thought you had a lover?”

“Oh I do,” The witch responded, the smile growing bigger, “He is not in right now.” A foreboding feeling enters Elaine’s stomach, but she pushes it aside.

“I do really have to get going, I’m afraid I only have a few moments to talk.” Elaine clears her throat again as she glances around the room, it doesn’t seem like two people could live here…, “I want to use the elixir with my lover, how do I make and use it?” She stands up and pulls on her collar.

“Oh it’s quite simple you see, all you need is a lock of your hair and the heart of your lover.” The witch picks up a knife and traces a circle around her heart.

“So I need his figurative heart?” Elaine questions, bile tasting in the back of her throat.

“No, you must kill your lover, and carve out his heart.” Elaine gasps as the witch laughs, “Once you do that, tie a friendship knot around the heart using your hair, the boy will come back to life and you will be immortal.”

Elaine’s eyes widen, and mouth open. She couldn’t kill Batur!

She runs out of the hut to the safety of the town, the witches' laughter sounding behind her, “Have fun deary!”

***

It has been three weeks since Elaine visited the witch, and all she could think about was eternal life. With Batur.

She stares up at the stars, Batur laying next to her, idly playing with her hair. She looks at him, his olive skin a stark contrast from her white as she places her hand on his face.

“Batur, what if we could be together forever?” Elaine asked.

“Well that sounds like torture,” Batur says as he smiles. Elaine slaps his arm, “Ok, ok, I would love to be together forever, and we will be.” Batur gently holds Elaine’s hand in his own, “We will be married soon, then nothing can tear us apart.”

The only thought that was running through Elaine’s head was death.

Death.

I don’t want to be alone.

Death.

Elaine leans forwards towards the basket with food.

Death.

I don’t want to be alone.

Death.

I don’t want to be alone.

Before Batur can say anything Elaine stabs him in the chest, carving out his heart.

Death.

I don’t want to be alone.

Death.

I don’t want to be alone.

Death.

Elaine cuts a piece of her hair off, tying the friendship knot around Batur’s heart.

Death.

I don’t want to be alone.

Death.

I don’t want to be alone.

Death.

I don’t want to die.

Elaine holds her breath as nothing happens. She places the heart back in Batur and sits back, her eyes glazed over like some other force has taken over her.

Batur’s body starts to reform, healing itself. A look alike of Batur floats up from his body, levitating above before standing up straight and looking at Elaine, then diving at her.

“Elaine, what have you done?” Batur’s voice sounds from inside her head.

[jenny1p-l0ve]

A rainy day

pairing: jeongin × gf!reader

genre: fluff

summary: You and your boyfriend needed to meet,but it turns out that he arrived all wet,from head to toe.

wc:1464

wn: Please let me know if you enjoyed it!💕

Today was a big day. It was Saturday morning,and the sound of the rain wakes you up. You open slowly your eyes,the light hitting your vision. You get up and look through the window. You were unlucky. It was supposed to be a happy and exciting day,but the hard rain and the cold wind broke it. But this didn't stop you to see your boyfriend,Jeongin. This thought made you smile again,forgetting about the bad weather and focusing on the meeting with Jeongin. You two were together for one year,but you feel like you know him for an eternity. Sometimes he was immature and clingy,but that made him special. He cared about you more than anything and also,he was very romantic. He made small and simple gifts for you,but in your eyes,it was more than gold.

But in the past months,the work separated you two from each other. You couldn't meet each other,just to speak on the phone on video calls. And it felt like eternity. It felt like he was miles away from you,and sometimes you felt so lonely that you could only have a breakdown. But you stayed stronger,knowing that the holiday will come and you will see him.

And this was your lucky day. After months,you're able to see him again. His angel face with his cute smile,his big brown eyes and feel his soft blonde-brown hair through your fingers. And of course his lovely kisses that felt like heaven. You two planned to go for a walk in the park,eat some ice cream and coffee,and talk about your past few months. But the rain was imprevisible and it broke all your plans.

After you took a shower and dressed in comfy clothes,you grabbed your phone and called Jeongin wanting to know what is the new plan for tomorrow. And not after a long time,he picked up.

"Morning Y/N! How did you sleep? Did the rain wake you up?"

"Hey! Well,I slept well,but I didn't expect to see rain outside when I woke up. Do you have another plan for today?"

He thinks for a moment,before answering your question.

"I think the best is for me to come to your house. I don't want you to catch a cold or something, so you can prepare the food for us."

"But babe-" You started but he cut you off.

"No. I will be good,I promise. It isn't that bad,and I can take a taxi too. So don't worry,prepare breakfast."

You weren't sure if it was better to accept or not,but he was right. It was better for both of you,plus,you were very sensible,so you can get sick easily.

"Fine, fine. Just be careful and dress thick."

"Okay,I will. I love you."

"Love you too." And with that he ends the call. Of course you were worried but he was a strong man,so he will come fast. Instead of being lost in your thoughts,you walked to the kitchen to prepare breakfast.

You thought he would like some pasta,since he will come from outside,he will need something hot to warm,but also will be a romantic moment for you two. As the time passed,the pastas were almost ready,but he didn't arrive. You started to get worried about him. You knew that he would do anything to make you happy. He will even go to another country for you only to make you happy,so he's a bit crazy,but a romantic boy so this is why you love him so much.

You looked outside,just to see the rain falling harder on the ground. You decided to grab your phone to call him since he didn't arrive for about thirty minutes. After you put the pasta on the plates,you went into the living room,grabbed your phone and called him. One call. Two calls. Nothing. No answer from him. It wasn't enough that you were worried,not that you started to be anxious too. You left the phone on the table and you started to walk in a circle in the livingroom,hopping that your boyfriend isn't that fucking crazy how you thought.

"Oh my gosh,I'm gonna beat that ass of you. God please,give me a sign."

You were sad. You put your hands in your hair,but before you could say anything,a knock at the door interrupts you. For a moment you weren't sure if you should open the door or not,but you walked towards it with small steps. With shaky hands,you open the door just a bit,pecking your head outside to see who it was.

"Innie" You were shocked,opening the door bigger. You were so happy that the first thing you wanted to do was to hug him,but you stopped. His hair,his clothes,his shoes were wet. He was wet from head to toe. But a thing that made you more curious was a rose that he was holding in his right hand,a small shy smile on his lips.

"Babe,what is wrong with you? Why didn't you answer the phone? I was so worried. Why are you fucking wet? Why are you holding a rose? Why didnt-" You started to say worried and a bit annoyed,but more relaxed now that you know he is alright,but he cuts you off.

"Y/N,I swear I will tell you everything but please let me go inside. I'm shaking." He says,his voice cracking a bit at the end,that made you chuckle.

"Fine,come. I made pasta for us so you will warm up." You sad,letting him walk inside the house. After you closed the door,he grabed your wrist pulling you closer to him,but not too close so you can't get wet either. He smiles sweetly at you and lends you the rose.

"I thought you would like it. It's your favorite flower so I wanted to make my angel happy with a small gift."

"Babe...it isn't my birthday,I don't need it. But..I can't refuse you and this little flower." You smiled,holding slowly the red rose in your fingers. You moved your attention to him,pressing a sweet peck on his lips.

"Thank you. I love it,I love you."

"I'm glad you like it. I love you too,angel!" He returns the peck before going to your room to change his wet clothes. After he changed into one of his hoodies,that you keep it in your wardrobe for anything. You wanted to ask him why he bought you the rose and why he came to your home wet from head to toe,but he was too hungry so you enjoyed looking at him,enjoying his hot dinner. After that,both of you sat on the couch in the living room,to watch a movie. In the middle of it,you got bored so you moved yourself in his lap,your chin pressed on his chest,looking up at him with a big grin that caught his attention.

"Are you okay,angel?" He asks confused and curious,caressing your hair with one of his hands.

"Why did you buy me the rose? Why you arrived wet?" You asked curiously.

"Ooh...that was it. Well first of all,after you called me,I rushed to leave my house,but when I wanted to get a taxi,I saw that I forgot my phone at home. I was too far from my house so I walked till your home. But I saw that beauty rose and it caught my eye,so I stopped buying it. And all this happened because of the rain.”

Well,all this makes sense. Now you weren't mad anymore,just happy that he is fine.

"Well... you won't catch a cold,right?" You asked,pouting.

"Of course not,baby." He smiled, pressing a lovely kiss on your lips,making you smile again.

"So you like the rose,right?"

"Of course I like it. I love it!" You said chuckling, moving your eyes for a moment at the vase with the rose. You closed your eyes,pressing your head on his chest,feeling his slow heartbeats.

"Aw,my little angel is tired."He whispered,before kissing the top of your head,and wrapping his arms around you,holding you tight and close to him.

[rkwon]

⯁ ROYAL JANUARY EVALUATION: WE ARE ROYALTY !

JANUARY 12TH, 2019: TIME TO PERFORM !  SAMSUNG’S SPECIAL NEW YEAR CONCERT

( tw !! abuse ) 

thinking back, he can barely believe how long it’s been since he last performed for an actual audience — not other trainees grateful for the break from their usual long, stressful schedules or just company staff with watchful eyes. the mgas and their bonus m!countdown appearance had been his last experiences in front of a live audience and whilst he’d done well then, it doesn’t make any difference to the nerves he feels heading into this performance. 

he wishes he could say he’s well rested and mentally prepared for what’s to come, but in truth, even just the dress rehearsals had taken it out of him. physically, no one would notice a difference because for the sake of a few minutes, won refused to allow himself to slack. he has enough energy to push through all this, but he hates the feeling of heavy eyelids and the fact that he’s looking forward to it all being over so he can go home. being out here, sharing a stage with freshly debuted and long-established groups should be, and is, an honour. he isn’t ungrateful for this opportunity, but seeing people around him drop like flies earlier in the week before they’d even flown out here forces him to the edge. he’s fidgety, beyond the point of tired because as much as he hoped he could, at least for a few days, sleep without mingyu’s comfort, he can’t. waking up every thirty minutes to an hour, it could be worse, but when won is so exhausted from everything else, it begins to stack. 

at first, he’d been excited. travelling beyond the borders of seoul is something he’s never done. when his birth family had gone on vacations, he hadn’t been invited, though a complaint never passed his lips. he took any chance to be apart from them, and if he didn’t fear what would happen when they finally got in, he’d have changed the locks while they were gone. 

that adrenaline rush had been short-lived when he realised the rooming arrangements, spending the next few days whining to his boyfriend about how unfair it is as if it’ll change anything. he ever tries to prepare himself for the suffering of snoozing cold and alone, and when it works, he feels a little of that hope and excitement return. 

it dies out again when they really get into the meat of their performance. as he watches the other trainees struggle with the dance standing front and centre, himself tucked at the back trying to guide their movements with patient teaching and watching one another in the full wall mirrors, he tries to swallow the disappointment settling in his chest. he might not be that familiar with jazz or contemporary, but he learns fast where dance is concerned— at least faster than those whose other talents far excelled their dancing skills. if so jisub has all these fantastic vocalists, why isn’t this dance-vocal performance at the very least? there’s comfort, sadly, in that other dancers are lumped at the back with him. outwardly, he doesn’t let it show, but whilst he isn’t jealous of those who got picked ( it isn’t their fault — there hadn’t been a sign-up sheet or anything ), he can’t help nagging thoughts creeping in. maybe he isn’t good enough after all. maybe he had only done so well in the mgas because he danced things he already knew, styles he had so much practice in. it could be as simple as not having been here long enough yet to be trusted to pull it off, but that doesn’t feed the narrative his insecurities have made for him — the one that launches him into his own thoughts, only ever pulled to the edge when interacting with others, as if they’re holding his wrist as his feet dangle over a dark, seemingly endless hole. 

he takes a deep breath. 

the concept itself, at least, he really likes. it’s a little cheesy ( but all the best things are — chick-lit, pizza ) playing on the company’s name, but he won’t ever pass up the opportunity to dress up like a prince. admittedly, he relates their costumes a little more to his favourite musicals and the way his eyes twinkle as he teasingly calls mingyu the phillip carlyle to his p.t barnum is more than enough to prove that. he messes with his collar far more than he should as their seniors finish up ‘tell me’ ( it’s so much better in person; far more so than his attempt on the mgas ). they’re up next and his palms are sweaty. he knows this choreography like the back of his hand; he could do it in his non-existent sleep if he wanted to, but there’s more faces out there than he had initially realised there would be, louder screams and more at stake. he just has to make it through this. adjusting his mask, he nods to himself, glances at his boyfriend for a last bit of luck and enters onto stage with the rest of the trainees. 

when the stage lights up, they’re frozen in place, a picturesque masquerade ball beginning with the chime of a familiar melody. ( he thinks he could hum this song in his non-existent sleep, too, though he can’t imagine that’d be as disturbing to see— or technically hear. ) ballroom isn’t his strength, even if he’d pretended it was at sujin and hyunwoo’s wedding, his hand on mingyu’s chest and mingyu’s on his waist, their remaining locked together at shoulder height. but as the speed picks up, so do their movements, twirls and jazz elements faded into the choreography. 

walking to the front of the stage isn’t difficult for anyone in royal’s trainee roster ( he hopes ), but the moment he reaches his position, ready to tear off his mask, he feels his stomach churn. what are the chances he pokes himself in the eye with its corner and must finish the rest of the dance with half his ordinary sight? what are the odds he throws it and it pitifully falls to the floor an inch from him and he immortalises himself as the royal boy who can’t throw for shit? ( unfortunately, scarily high. ) slender fingers reach for his mask. just like every rehearsal, he thinks, as he dramatically rips off his mask, launches it weakly like a frisbee, watching as it doesn’t knock out anyone in the front row nor flop sadly in front of him. maybe it doesn’t matter how the rest of the performance goes. ( it does. ) maybe he’s happy with that tiny, insignificant victory. ( he is. ) 

finally, his favourite part of the special stage begins. their style takes a much stronger jazz influence. though the centres might be the focus, it’s the trainees around them that continue the dance. ( nowadays, he’s seen this a hundred times, but at first, he’d thought the image of youthful soohyun — who can barely believe is over a year older than him — beside vibrant seonho — who he can absolutely believe is over three years younger than him, even if it makes him feel old — had been ridiculously sweet. they’re the kind of pair won can see as the leads in a music video or a full drama. he’d watch that. clearly, so jisub — or whoever had decided on this stage and its centres — agrees. ) 

it’s easier to focus on his own movements now, after so much practice, growing so used to the bodies moving around him that he instinctively doesn’t look at anyone or anything besides the crowd and the cameras. practising, he’d found his eyes wandering to the other trainees, looking for things he could help with or learn himself. now, he offers the crowd a small smile as he moves because despite all the thoughts that have been weighing him down, the insecurities and the upset, he is genuinely having fun on stage. it takes more than being pushed to the back to really dampen won’s enjoyment of performing, especially for a crowd, as a whole. even when the mgas took their toll on him, he felt elated as he finished up each round. 

unfortunately, it’s not long after he’s finished with the ‘best’ bit that he slowly exits the stage, replaced by established dancers that accompany hyoni as the stage fades into her recent release. forming their half circle around rose, he begins to step back, wonders how so much work over the past month or so can boil down to a little less than three minutes, but mostly—

he’s just glad to be going home. home to a familiar bed, warm arms. home to clear thoughts, practices that don’t make him feel inadequate and guilty. to routine— normality. finally. 

[smol-and-grumpy]

Good Girl

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: She’s his good girl.

Warnings: Smut, fingering, dirty thoughts, dirty talk, possessive Dean

WC: 1464

A/N: This is from an anonymous request. Don’t get used to me writing so fast again, though.

He presses her against the elevator wall, hands skimming under the skirt of her dress, fingers brushes over the lace of her string that leaves nothing to the imagination.

He knows that, because she’d flash him as she walked out of the bedroom and he had a hard time keeping himself in check. Had to hold himself back from bending her over the next horizontal surface and rip them apart, held himself back from driving his leaking cock deep into her wet heat.

His dick is still hard as he grinds against her hips, has been hard since he saw her in the beautiful dress she bought this morning. She had dragged him along to watch her try it on and he had wanted to go into the dressing room with her, just to tear the fabric apart. 

“Dean,” She whispers as he kisses her throat, inhaling the intoxicating smell of her perfume. 

He quickly kisses her again before she can tell him to stop, swallows the little whimpers and moans that he causes, drinks them in and bottles them up, keeping them in his memories for lonesome nights that he is sure would come sooner or later.

Her blunt nails dig into the base of his neck, his scalp, messes up his hair, he doesn’t even care.

The elevator dings, and she pushes him away, straighten herself up with a playful smile before she gets out and waits for him to follow.

They stand on the floor, in front of them the entrance to the posh restaurant. It’s not his scene, it’s not even hers, he knows, but her parents are in town. 

“Be nice, alright?” She smiles up at him, her fingers brushes at the corner of his mouth. 

“I can’t stand your stepdad.” He murmurs, runs a hand through his hair and bends down to kiss her, doesn’t even mind if her lipstick dirties up his lips again.

She chuckles, “I can’t stand him either but be civil, okay? It’s just one night.” 

Dean knows of her stepdad, a rich powerful man who had done indecent things to women in his company, wishes sometimes that he wasn’t a human being but a supernatural monster, one he could kill because he wouldn’t think twice about it.

“I’m fucking hard, I don’t think I can make it through dinner.” He grits his teeth and sees her eyes wandering to his crotch. 

She bites on her bottom lip, a sly smile on her face. It does nothing to make his cock soften because he loves that smile and gets fucking weak when she bites her lip. 

He leans down and whispers into her ear with a tingle of hope, “Is there a chance I can get you to the bathroom, like, now?”

She straightens his suit jacket, her hands fists into his collar. “Dean!” A lopsided smirk on her lips.

“I mean it,” He says, “I wanna fuck you so bad, baby.” It’s the truth, he doesn’t know how long he can go, feels like he’s going to burst.

“We’re late as it is.” 

Dean straightens himself, runs the back of his hand over his mouth and looks at her. “Alright, but I swear, as soon as I get you alone, I’m gonna fuck you so hard you won’t be able to walk for days.”

She laughs, probably thinks that he’s joking but he really doesn’t kid around. It’s a beautiful sound nonetheless. 

He wants it. Wants to push her against the wall of the bathroom, make her watch herself in the mirror when he makes her come on his cock alone, wants to fill her up, make her fucking leak his cum when she talks to her stepdad. 

Dean sighs when she takes his hand and lets her drag him into the restaurant.

*

Her stepdad talks about something Dean can’t be bothered to listen to. He can feel that the hatred between them is mutual, which doesn’t make it easier for him. 

The stepdad talks about his little girl being all grown up, how she was such a good girl. He hopes the stepdad never laid a fucking hand on the girl that is his now. Because then, he wouldn’t even care if the dude’s not a supernatural being when stepdad will look into the barrel of Dean’s gun.

There’s one thing Dean agrees, though. He wants to tell him how good his girl is in bed, how she’s being a good girl when she swallows his cock and sucks at his balls like it’s the best thing she ever had, making him see fucking stars when he comes down her throat.

Fuck. Dean should not be thinking that, with her parents sitting across from him. 

Stepfather and daughter argue as he swallows a bite. She leaves a snappy remark, making Dean proud.

“That mouth of yours,” Her stepdad mutters under his breath and rolls his eyes before he looks at Dean.

And Dean bites back a smirk, because yeah, that mouth of hers can do things, alright. He loves it when she runs that said mouth and talks dirty to him, fucking gets off only thinking about that fucking mouth of hers.

He thinks about the soft of her lips, the smoothness of her tongue when he sucks on it. The sweet taste that drives him fucking crazy. It’s almost as sweet as her cunt.

Thinks about how she writhes when he laps and sucks at her slick folds, how she tastes on his tongue when he fucks her with it, how she begs him for more and more. How sometimes, she calls him daddy, too.

Unconsciously, Dean places a hand on her thighs, when he notices that she’s upset. He strokes her, calms her down, feels that she parts her legs, inviting him in and how can he deny what’s been offered to him. 

Her mother is talking to him and Dean smiles, answers her politely, while he shoves food into his mouth with one hand as the other hand inches closer to her pussy. He rubs at the lace, while he tells them the story of how he earns his money (it’s all a lie but they don’t need to know the truth). 

She tenses but keeps on eating, sends daggers against her stepdad with her glare while Dean grabs her string, pushes it out of the way and strokes her folds with his fingers, paints fucking art on her cunt as she leans back a little, giving him full access.

He pushes a thick finger in as the waitress takes away their plates. Neither one of them wanted a dessert, opting for coffee instead. 

How can he think about dessert when all he wants to eat is her pussy.

She lays her head on his shoulder. Her face flush and he kisses her forehead while he works her open with two of his fingers, groaning into her hair as he imagines his cock pumping in and out of her slick heat.

Dean can’t make her come, not here. Maybe also for the selfish reason that he always wants to hear it, hates it when she can’t be as loud as he wants her to be. 

They drink up their espressos so quick he burns his tongue. She makes up an excuse that she’s not feeling well and Dean rubs the wet slick on his dress pants, can’t bring himself to care when they can see the remains. 

He shakes her stepdad’s hand with the fingers that’s been inside of his little girl, chuckles at the absurdity of it all. 

They didn’t make it out of the parking garage, because as soon as they’re in the Impala, she climbs into his lap, her deft fingers works his belt open and pulls at his boxer briefs, eases it down to free his aching cock before she lowers herself down on it so fast he almost passed out.

“Want it bad, baby?” He’s cocky, he knows and she rolls her eyes playfully before she nods.

“Yeah, take what you want,” He coos, his hands on her hips, fingertips digging into her soft flesh as she leans her forehead against his. “That’s it,” He sucks on her tongue, relishing the sweetness he thought about before, “Ride me, baby. Just like that… good girl.”

There’s a sound close by. Footsteps. A car beeps. Dean’s too lost in the tight heat of her pussy, too lost in the clenching of her sweet cunt, too lost in the kisses she spreads on his lips, his cheeks, his jaw.

And if it’s her parents, he hopes that her stepdad hears what Dean says to her while she fucks herself on his throbbing cock. “Good girl,” He praises, “Taking my cock so good, sweetheart. My good fucking girl, ain’tcha?”