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notjustjavierpena · 1 year ago

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Swelter

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A/N: This happened because the SAG Awards made me horny. I have no other explanation for my behavior, no other defence. Maybe that I was listening to ur dad by VIAL. Obviously also a huge thanks to @strang3lov3 for being the cutest love bug I know, and for putting up with my brainstorming sessions.

Summary: You have a crush on Sarah’s father. It is summer, it is hot, and you just want a cold drink.

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader/you (no y/n)

Tags: +18 smut, best friend’s dad, significant age gap (reader is 19-22, Joel is in his mid-40s), SEXUAL TENSION, bee stings, groping, voyeur to some degree, f masturbation, dirty talk, an endless amount of pet names, sexy play with a soda can, praise kink, car sex, daddy kink, fingering, unprotected piv sex, joel’s cock is huge in this, creampie, premature ejaculation, pussy eating, come eating, squirting

Word count: 6.8k

Link to this work on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/54233479

Swelter

A warm Texas breeze blows through the open window of Sarah’s childhood room, making the see-through pink curtains move elegantly from side to side. It hits your back right underneath your halter neck as you lay on Sarah’s bed, caressing your bare skin and making you think of him. You wonder if his hands would have the same effect on you because you find yourself shivering but not from feeling cold. He is somewhere here, and his daughter doesn’t even know that her best friend obsesses about that fact.

Sarah hasn’t changed her room since she was a teenager. She told you this the first time she brought you here, which is almost a year ago today. You were here last summer too, thrilled to be invited to spend a few weeks of your summer with a friend from college and you and her have been inseparable ever since, even if you are so different from each other.

You have your face in a woman’s magazine, propped up on your elbows so you can suck on a popsicle stick whilst turning the pages. There’s a page with the recipe for ‘The Best Fudgy Chocolate Cake Ever!’ next to a page on how to lose weight, and it makes you snort.

“What?” Sarah turns on her chair, pausing the video on her computer.

“What kinda woman are you? You can choose one, but only one. Don’t get greedy now!” You make a scratchy voice but then pop your ice pop in your mouth to hold up the magazine for her to see.

“Seriously? We can’t win,” she groans dramatically, “Chocolate cake always. I just want to be happy, and that looks like a serotonin boost.”

Suddenly, the door opens without any warning. It’s him. Mr. Miller. You quickly remove the popsicle from your mouth, not about to show him how your lips are stretched around the sugary snack. The open door causes a draft to blow the smell of his cologne your way, and it is intoxicating beyond your imagination because you relish in it in secret.

“Dad,” Sarah says with exasperation, “I thought being an adult earned you the privilege of more privacy.”

“It’s gettin’ colder outside now,” he states and ignores her comment, hand resting on the doorknob, “The Adlers need Mercy to be walked, and the pavement’s coolin’ down.”

“I walked him when I was fourteen,” she furrows her brow and you suppress a snicker, “I’m twenty.”

“Just ‘cause you’re grown, don’t mean you can’t do right by ‘em,” he states matter-of-factly.

“Hi, Mr. Miller,” you say from your spot on the bed as Sarah fumes quietly, absentmindedly reaching to pull the short skirt of your dress down. He can probably see the start of your ass from how it has been riding up as you lay down on the sheets.

“Hiya darlin’,” he replies and you swear you can hear a restrained sound in his voice. He turns to Sarah again, “Get your butt off that chair.”

“Fine,” she follows through on her orders but still wants to argue, probably embarrassed at being ordered around by her father in front of her friend. She gestures to you, “And what about my guest?”

“She’s grown too, which means she can probably entertain herself the half hour you’ll be gone,” he dares wink at you, and blood courses through your veins.

“I’ll just get that assignment done while you’re out,” you reassure and try not to seem like your core is shaking.

“See?” Joel looks triumphant.

“You’d make a hell of a lawyer,” she deadpans at her father and walks past him.

When he closes the door and leaves you alone in the bedroom, you can feel your popsicle having melted, its syrupy water running down your fingers. You switch hands and suck the sticky fingers into your mouth. The action makes Mr. Miller’s image flash in your mind and you press your thighs together before getting up and finding your laptop.

You find that it’s near impossible to concentrate on proofreading your assignment in the tiny bedroom after just five minutes of being alone. It’s not that you can’t concentrate in the Summer heat but no matter what you do, your mind keeps circling back to Joel’s voice as he called you darling. It heats you more than the sun ever could, and with every tap on your keyboard, your mouth gets more and more dry.

Eventually, you push yourself to stand from your seat at the desk and make a decision to go fetch something to drink, and it is definitely not with the intention of accidentally bumping into Sarah’s father. Not even when you do not find Joel in the kitchen and decide to bypass it altogether to continue into the garage in hopes of being successful in your search for a drink (obviously).

This infatuation started last year. It took you about ten seconds - from walking into the kitchen and shaking Joel’s hand - to realize that Sarah was cursed with having him as a father. Firstly, he was outrageously handsome; always wearing washed-out t-shirts that clung to his shoulders, always smiling with teeth, sporting salt-and-pepper curls, and sometimes even shocking you by entering the kitchen with working gloves on. However, when he opened his mouth and spoke, a southern drawl dripped from his lips and made your whole body tense up. He was charming, respectful, and laughed at the right moments. Most importantly, he laughed at every damn attempt that you made at being funny, and while it was probably an attempt to be nice and make you feel at home, it spurred you on terribly to win him over at every opportunity.

Despite all that, those opportunities weren’t many. He was also cool enough to know that his daughter didn’t want him hanging around all the time, and so he spent many days either in the garden to mow the lawn in competition with the rest of the fathers down the street, in the garage to fix up some old truck, or with his brother, Tommy, and Tommy’s wife who always had some DIY-project going on.

Thus, the summer became one of tanning sessions in the garden, movies in Sarah’s room, stolen glances at Joel Miller whenever he came inside to quench his thirst after hard labor, and secret longing whenever he had kept away for too long.

One particular day last year, Sarah had failed to mention that her father would be home most of the last days you were in their house, and because he was always out, you were getting more and more comfortable with walking around in your towels post-showers or leaving the door unlocked when changing.

The particular event had happened in the morning when the house had been silent except for the kitchen where Sarah was preparing breakfast, using a large box of pancake mix and the whole fruit section of the local grocery store for topping. You had just showered, standing with your head in your suitcase to search for the last few pieces of clothing you had that were clean when there was a rap on the door and a pull of the handle not even a second later.

“Sarah, I need—“

You whipped around at the sound of a new voice entering the room. Your heart nearly burst out of your chest, feeling as though it was fighting its way out between your ribs as embarrassment began to flood your system. Even so, you stood too frozen to reach for something to cover yourself up.

Joel was in the doorway and dead silent, looking as if struck by lightning. Like earlier today, his hand had been resting on the doorknob and in the painfully short moment that the both of you were processing the situation, you saw that his grip tightened enough to whiten his knuckles.

And then it happened, the thing that had soaked you in forbidden desire and delicious excitement; his gaze had flickered down your body and taken you in for the briefest of seconds. His gaze had traveled from the hard peaks of your nipples to the shape of your hips and the softness of your young cunt.

“Fuck,” you heard him utter as he remembered himself and his self-awareness made you finally grab the top you were going to be wearing that day to cover up your quivering body. He slammed the door shut and spoke through it, “Christ, ’m so sorry, sweetheart.”

“It’s okay, Mr. Miller,” you promised but he was already gone. You immediately locked the door afterward to come so hard with two fingers on your clit that you had to hold onto the chair by the desk.

God, you want him to look at you like that again, want to tell him it is all for him. Now, as wrong as you know it is, you find yourself searching for an excuse to get him to ogle you and the chances are higher if he actually spends time with you.

“Hi, Mr. Miller,” you announce yourself as you enter the garage through the door in the kitchen. Joel has his head inside the hood of his truck, leaning over to inspect something that you wouldn’t understand anything about anyway. He grips the front side of the engine room to push himself to stand, closes the top of the hood of his truck, and turns around to face you.

“Hey kiddo,” he returns with a smile, “How many times do I gotta say to ya that it’s just Joel?”

“Alright, Mr. Miller,” you tease, “—I mean, Just Joel.”

You hear him laugh softly but you don’t dare look at him, afraid that you’ll spontaneously combust. He goes to the utility sink to wash his hands, saying nothing more and making you feel insane for coming apart in the silence.

“I’m just getting something to drink,” you explain when it becomes too much, “Sarah’s room is boiling hot.”

“That’s fine, take what you’d like,” he replies, and there’s a kind teasing in his voice. “But don’t touch the orange sodas. Those are mine.”

The concrete floor of the garage is cold on your bare feet as you pad across the floor where an old bottom-freezer refrigerator stands in the corner, humming in the otherwise quiet room. It has seen better days, and it seems like Sarah has tried to cheer up its weathered appearance by covering it in stickers and ugly magnets.

“Now I have to get one of those,” you giggle and pull the door open, scanning the contents and noticing that the sodas are on the bottom shelf. You hesitate for just a second, and then you choose to bend over instead of crouching down. Behind you, Joel Miller is completely silent.

In the beginning, it hadn’t been your intention to let the crush fester in your brain and turn it into something more but last week, during dinner out on the terrace, you had accidentally sat down on a bee and gotten stung on the back of your thigh. The cry you had let out had nearly made Joel tip over the table to get to you, his chair falling backward as he got up from his seat.

“Fuck! Ow ow ow!” You cried and hobbled around on the grass. The pain was unbearable but the shock only seemed to make it worse.

“Sarah, please get some ice and some antihistamines. There should be a bottle on my nightstand,” Joel ordered quickly and she rushed inside. He walked toward you, grabbing at your shoulders to ground you but his touch only heightened all other sensations. He dug his thumbs into you and your head swam, “Sweetheart, ‘tis just a bee, shh, calm down. I need to remove the stinger. Lemme see ya.”

“It really fucking hurts, Mr. Miller,” you said with a whine as he guided you to one of the loungers that Sarah and you had dragged out from the shed earlier that week.

“I know,” he finally let go of you so you could think just a bit more clearly, “Lemme take a look. Lie down on your front.”

You followed orders with the realization of how much you trusted his judgment, that he would treat you right, moving carefully because the flex of your thigh muscle was making the pain worse. The wooden lounger burned slightly against the front of your thighs, and you pressed your cheek into its slats while screwing your eyes shut.

The wood creaked behind you as he knelt on it with one knee and suddenly, his broad hand was perched on the top of your thigh in an attempt to keep your skin taut. You sucked in a breath but he only mistook it for more pain.

“It’s alright, sweetheart. I can see it,” his breath was slightly quicker but you didn’t want to jump to conclusions, “He really got ya right on your inner thigh. Hold on.”

Your eyes shot open when his thumb ran towards the innermost part of the back of your thigh, a sort of panicked arousal spiking from your chest and thighs. He paused for a second then murmured something, a swear word that you tried to take as frustration. There was a beat but then he cleared his throat, “Can you bend your leg a little? I wanna make sure that I get it on the first try.”

“How?” You asked stupidly. The image of how he would be looming over your backside made your heartbeat go down between your legs, “My dress’ll ride up.”

“Just bend the knee a little, pull it towards your chest,” he explained and cleared his throat once more, “On my life, I won’t look.”

So you did as he told you, and sure enough, your dress betrayed you by crawling slowly up to sit around your hip instead of the middle part of your thigh. You looked back at him when he started picking at the stinger with his nails, and you hoped that he would not notice your gawking at his concentrated expression.

A flash of the day he had barged in on you naked flashed in your mind because his eyes were so focused on not staring at you that you nearly whimpered when you saw his eyes flicker to the spot of dampness between your legs for no more than a second.

You had worn white cotton panties that day so they would not be seen through your dress. They were straining against your pussy in this position and all he had to do was reach out, and he’d find your clit poking against the fabric from how excited you were feeling.

He had had the perfect outline of your cunt, and it’s the same now as you bend over to get to the very bottom of the fridge, reaching for a cold drink that just happens to be his favorite. You know that he can see everything, and the worst is that you know he already has. Twice. The mere thought is so dirty that your heart starts pounding in your chest and sends heat through your already hot body, so you hurry to stretch to your full height again.

With a cocky grin that is mostly put on to hide your anxious excitement about what you have just done, you turn to face Joel and walk to stand in front of him and his car. His cologne fills your nostrils again, and the scent seems once again to have a direct line to your cunt because you have never felt more empty. In front of you, Joel’s jaw is clenched but other than that, he seems a lot more calm and composed than you.

That is until you jump onto the hood of the car and scoot back, letting your bare feet dangle out over the edge. You crack open the soda in your hand and take a sip that is a little longer than intended. The satisfying burn of the fizz grounds you in the warm climate, but it is even more heavenly as you tuck the skirt of your dress between your thighs so you can place the cold can there.

Joel shakes his head with a sigh but you know he is playing a game as much as you because he cannot help but crack a smile back at you, “You’re trouble, I knew it the second Sarah brought ya into my house.”

“Oh, whatever will I do?” You ask dramatically and lean back against the windshield.

“Go morally bankrupt?” He raises a brow. If only he knew what is going through your mind. You catch him looking at you in the fashion that you have craved when you sigh deeply and cause your chest to push out.

“Only that?” You take another sip and some of the contents spill down your chin in a thick, sticky trail due to the angle you’re sitting in. You reach up to wipe it away with your index finger and then dare to suck your finger clean with the intention of mimicking the way that you had licked it clean earlier when it had been coated in melted popsicle.

“Give it here,” he says. You lock eyes with him. However, your eyes widen slightly when he nods at the can and takes it from between your thighs. There’s electricity shooting through your nerves the second his fingers touch the fabric of your dress but they intensify to a dizzying degree when he takes a sip of the soda too.

Like a reflex, the sight of him drinking from the can that’s been nestled between your thighs makes your legs fall out to the sides. You’re worse than an obedient dog in your horniness, reacting the same way to the way he moves as it would to the sound of a bell ringing.

Your dress rides up slowly along your thighs, revealing your sweaty skin that feels sticky by now and Joel clears his throat after briefly looking down. He shifts his weight from one foot to the other, and when you realize the effect it has on the poor man, you grab the hem and pull upwards, “It’s so hot outside today. Don’t think I’ll ever get used to the heat here in Texas.”

“C’mon, sweetheart,” he says and his face has got a pinker tint, pulse visible on the side of his neck. With his free hand, he grabs one of your knees and starts nudging your legs together again. He yanks your skirt down, “I know I’m always teasin’ ya but you can’t be doing this.”

“Jesus Christ, Joel,” you say with exasperation and move your legs out again, “It’s just very hot… and it’s not like you haven’t had a peek.”

“Hey now,” he leans forward to place the can of soda on the roof of the truck, “That ain’t a fair accusation.”

“I’m not accusing you of anything,” you reply, chewing on your bottom lip, “But you’re not denying it.”

“Don’t tryna make me look like the pervert here,” he scolds, taking a step towards you and causing your stomach to do somersaults, “I noticed the way you went real quiet when my hands were on you.”

“What do you mean?” You furrow your brows in confusion, “Your hands were never on m–”

“Did that bee sting really hurt that much?” He clarifies. Oh, you think whilst he smirks with triumph. Something has switched in the air surrounding you, the atmosphere has become more daring, “Yeah, I saw her; your pussy wet f’me.”

It’s true. If you think about it too much, you can still feel your heartbeat in the places where he touched you, and the pulse is rapid and overwhelming. You can’t imagine what it'll be like if he touches you underneath your dress, even if it’s simply on the outside of your panties. The thought has your underwear starting to dampen, the fabric starting to stick to you, and make you painfully aware of the wetness between your legs.

“Did ya touch yourself after?” His eyes have darkened slightly. His pupils are dilating with desire for your answer, and you nod hesitantly, overwhelmed by the need to tell him everything.

“During my shower that you told me to take,” you confess and hear him make a sound low in his throat at the mental image, “I couldn’t stop myself— I wanted you so badly. The thought of you inside me...”

This is a crossroad, you realize, you’ve said your deepest secret of depravity. On one hand, you can bolt out the door or you can make a move to show him what you really came down here for. The latter is risky but Joel is so goddamn decent that you know that if he doesn’t want this - which you doubt is the case at this point - he’ll gently reject you and never mention it again if it means that his daughter will continue having a best friend.

However, as your mind races with scenarios of what could or could not happen in this moment, Joel pulls you back into reality as his hand, cold from gripping the can, rests on your knee again but this time, it doesn’t try to make you decent like before. Instead, it slides up under your skirt in such a slow motion that you find yourself holding your breath.

“Is this what’ll quiet down that mind of yours?” He asks in a low voice, eyes flickering from your face to down between your legs and back again, “If I take a peek more to get it outta our system?”

“What are you doing?” You ask as if you do not know. It’s your turn to be scandalized by bluntness, and you find yourself gripping his arm but not hard enough to signal that you do not want him to continue. You hope that he realizes that this is not you rejecting his advances.

“I ain’t doing nothin’ that you haven’t already silently begged me to do. Perhaps sometimes - and God help me, I will probably regret it - you just needa follow your instincts when a pretty girl like you has been sendin’ me heart eyes all week,” he almost sounds annoyed with you, and to stop yourself from being scolded, your hand loosens its grip on him until you remove it altogether. He smiles, “Good girl.”

“You shouldn’t—“ you feel a rush of blood to your head, adrenaline kicking in as your thoughts circle around the repercussions that this can bring. In all honesty, you had only walked in here to have Joel’s eyes on you but now, you are getting more than you bargained for and it is making you so turned on that your mind is clear and foggy at the same time. Boldly, you sit up on the car’s hood so you can reach for the buckle of Joel’s belt, “We shouldn’t be doing this.”

“You’re damn right we shouldn’t be doin’ this,” he agrees immediately but doesn’t stop. His warm and rough palms skim further up your thighs until they settle by your hips, his thumbs teasing the elastic band of your panties. He starts to drag them down, the fabric nearly snapping in two when you barely register that you have to lift your ass to help him.

His fingers unintentionally caress your calves as he slides the underwear down to eventually pull them off your ankles and feet. The sensation makes your body wake up even more, a gush of wetness smearing your inner thighs and you know that you have to pull your dress up soon if you don’t want it stained.

In front of you, Joel reads your mind. He shoves the hem of your dress up as far as he can without a word with desperation in his trembling hands, and you move to let him bunch it up around your waist so he has a full view of what waits - and for long has waited - for him.

When your cunt is revealed to him, he groans like he is in pain at the sight of the slick shining on your soft youthful skin. You can see how hard he is in his jeans, cock straining against the zipper at the front of them.

He looks like he wants to touch but hesitates. The first sign of his inner conflict. You remember that he did say just a peek as if there’s an unspoken agreement that he is not to cross the line of touching what he shouldn’t want to have. It would definitely be a nuclear decision if he chooses to do it anyway. It makes you want it even more, and another gush spills from your glistening slit when you clench from excitement.

Joel swears under his breath, something that sounds like fuck it and it sets it in stone; he is going to ruin you for eternity right here on his car. He steps closer until your spread knees bump into his sides, and without saying anything you move to yank his jeans and briefs down, settling them around his hips with a soft gasp as you take in the sight of his fully hard cock. He is huge. So huge that your mouth starts salivating like you’ve already been fucked stupid and your walls try to clamp down on nothing. It’ll hurt. You want it to if it means that you won’t doubt if it ever happened tomorrow.

“Tell me you want this too,” he seeks your reassurance.

“So fucking badly, Mr. Miller— Joel,” you say without any hint of second-guessing in your voice. You scoot further forward on the car and lean back so he has better access, trying your best to be elegant in your messy state, “Please, want you in me.”

“Jeez, honey,” his breath shakes, “Already so eager. I haven’t even felt if she’s ready f’me.”

With one hand gripping your left thigh, he uses two fingers on his right hand to slide through your wet folds and you don’t think you have ever been this turned on for anyone; when he flips his palm upwards and shoves two fingers inside of you, you feel more arousal drip from your cunt and pool in his hand. The longing you have felt since you saw him for the first time finds somewhere to empty all its desire and desperation into, and you whine like you’re in a state of agony.

“Shhh…” he soothes and curls his digits inside of you until you think you might start crying, squelching cunt trying to pull him further into you as he fingers you lazily. Your gaze drops to how his cock twitches whilst standing in the air, “You’re grippin’ me so good, doll, can’t wait to fuck this pussy. Don’t cry like that. Be patient.”

“Please, I’m so—“ your palms are flat on the hood of the car, your mouth hangs open in ecstasy and you stare down at where his ring- and middle finger disappears repeatedly into you, “It’s yours, please.”

“I know it’s mine, don’t gotta say it, I know,” he coos at each of your whimpers, gets you worked up until you are just on the brink of coming, and then he moves quickly. He pulls his fingers out of you, smears his cock with what you’ve soaked his whole palm with, and leans over your gasping frame to nudge at your quivering hole.

When he finally enters you, the both of you gasp in unison. He struggles with it for a moment, rubbing the skin just below your belly button to make you relax because he is so much bigger than you had first anticipated, and such a tight fit that you think he might split you in two.

“Goddamn, you are tight,” he says through gritted teeth, “Feels fuckin’ amazin’.”

“Ah,” you feel like letting yourself turn into a drooling mess already, pulsating around him from the way your body struggles to take him, “Joel, I can’t.”

“Yes, you can, honey,” he encourages, showing no signs of pulling out of you to free you from the burn of his girth. He growls low in his throat as you struggle with it, and you know it’s because your walls are clenching around him as you involuntarily move, “Stay still, let her get used to it.”

“It hurts,” you whine, sliding slightly on the metal underneath your ass. He presses his hips forward even further and causes you to whimper but in doing so, he holds you firmly in place by using his strong frame.

“I know but ya just gotta relax,” he goes on. He places one hand flat on the hood of the car and then places the other right on your hip, thumb going inwards to find your clit. It pulses under his finger, trying to find out whether to find the pain delicious or not.

When his thumb starts going in circles on you, your thigh muscles start to twitch and flex from burning desire instead of uncomfortable pain. He presses down a little to stroke your sensitive nub with even more determination and smiles at his success when a moan slips from your mouth, “That’s it, honey. Just enjoy this until you’re creamin’ on me, and then I can fuck her real good.”

Your walls start to flutter a few seconds after the first new round of pleasurable sounds leave you, and the more his finger moves on you, the easier it gets to take him because the pain turns into nothing more than a dull ache in the background of ecstasy. He has you breathing faster and faster, and in return, he starts moving his thumb up and down to make his touches more direct.

God, your clit is hardening underneath his torment. He stares at what he is doing, an occasional grunt leaving him from how you involuntarily squeeze his length, and you know that he can sense it, suddenly smirking to himself as you near your climax. He admires the sight of you, eyes glued to the way the hood of your clit has drawn back, “Babydoll, look at that. Such a pretty pussy, clit peekin’ out and all. Does she wanna come on my cock?”

“Please, yes, oh please,” you nod repeatedly, mouth hanging open in an o-shape and breaths coming out in small puffs. Your climax is within reach, and Joel looks concentrated as he more than willingly hands it over to you whilst buried deep inside of you. The concentration on his face is probably from keeping himself from spilling inside of you too soon, but God, he looks gorgeous as he determinedly strokes your cunt.

“Yes, yes, yesyesyes— oh God, I’m… fuck, I’m coming!” You shake with pleasure as he causes your pussy to spasm, your hands barely able to find out what to do and making you grab at both the metal underneath you with one hand and his wrist with the other. Your eyes are squeezed shut but you do not doubt that he is staring at you in awe as you come so hard that reality fades.

“Good girl,” he rasps, voice unsteady and hand hitting the hood of the car as the feeling becomes overwhelming, “Oh sweetheart, you’re choking my dick so g—“

He swears quietly and then loudly, and suddenly, his cool demeanor crumbles because he is spilling his load inside of you with a pathetic and strained grunt. His hips stutter slightly and warmth spreads slowly inside of you, mixing with your own arousal.

You look down to where the two of you are connected, feeling fucked out despite not even having had the chance to feel him move inside of you. His come has started to spill from you already, dripping obscenely from your cunt.

“Fuck,” you hear Joel say above you. He slips out of you and leaves you gaping and mewling for a second, starting to take a step back. You catch him with your legs before he is too far away, and he reluctantly steps close to you again. He looks embarrassed but gives you a smile to hide it, “Felt too good, honey. This pussy’s makin’ me all sweet on you.”

“I’m that irresistible?” You grin in your post-orgasmic haze, not really giving a crap about the lack of a proper fuck from how much dopamine is coursing through your veins.

Joel takes hold of your thighs as they are wrapped around your body and lifts them off of himself, “You’re makin’ an old bastard like me weak in the knees, so maybe. Hah! Comin’ too soon like a goddamn teenager.”

“I liked it,” you admit without hesitation, still basking in the sweet afterglow, “Made me feel sexy and powerful.”

He scoffs but can’t fight the smile on his face, “Now now, don’t get cocky on me. Crawl back a little, spread ya legs f’me.”

You giggle and do as you are told, presenting yourself to him on the hood of his car. You plant your bare feet on the metal, lay back against the windshield, and smile.

“Now look at that,” he tuts as he admires his work; white ropes of come dripping down from your slit and onto the surface beneath you. He lays both hands flat on the car and leans forward, and before you know it, his mouth is covering your whole cunt and he eats from you like he’s paid to do it.

“Jesus,” you groan, throwing your head back and grabbing onto the roof of the car with one hand whilst the other finds Joel’s hair. You tug and he moans against you, sending vibrations through your whole lower body and beginning the first stirrings of another high. You don’t think that you can take it, squirming just like you had done moments earlier.

Joel makes a sound of disapproval. He scoops his arms under your thighs until he can lay his hands on top of them, holding you tightly against his mouth and causing you to cry towards the ceiling when he makes your second orgasm approach so quickly that nothing in your brain makes sense except what he is doing between your legs.

The hand on the roof of his car goes to his head too. You slide your fingers on both hands through his hair until they lay at the back of his neck, and then you yank once more at the curls there. His tongue works at your clit, swiping back and forth over it until you think that you might see God.

However, it doesn’t stay there. Instead, it is replaced by his nose so that he can eat his own spill straight from you by dipping his tongue hungrily inside of you.

“Joel— holy fuck, you’re incredible,” you close your eyes to concentrate on your pleasure. Who knew that the man could fuck with his tongue? He is warm and wet inside of you, slurping pornographically until you are clean of any remains of his come.

You are just about to finish a second time when he halts whatever he is doing. He pulls back only a few inches so you can still feel his uneven breaths against your cunt.

“No! Please,” your eyes fly open, you cry desperately, and throw your head forward dramatically. You want to thrash but he still has your legs locked in his arms, so you decide to pull out the big guns and hope for the best, “Please, Daddy! Pleasepleaseplea—“

“What the fuck did you just say t’me?” He looks up at you but you are too busy screwing your eyes shut in agony whilst whining for more. He growls and releases one of your legs, “I was already gonna make you a happy young lady but now, I’m gonna make you come so hard your little brain goes dumb. See how it feels. Impatient girl.”

His hand goes between your legs. He turns his palm upwards and then shoves two thick fingers inside of your pussy like earlier, curling them slightly and then pumping them so quickly that blood starts speeding through your system a second after and your heart rate goes so fast that you know that you are just about to come.

“Joel, oh my— fuck!” You whimper.

“Wrong word,” he replies.

You correct yourself immediately because there’s no way he is stopping again to chastise you once more, “Daddy, oh I— mhmm, I’m gonna come for you. Don’t stop, please, please Daddy, pleasepleaseplea—!”

He responds just how you had liked: He closes his mouth around your swollen clit and sucks hard, finally severing all connection to your brain and you come so hard that you actually squeal. Joel groans against you, feeling you squeeze the digits he has buried deep inside you. He draws back his fingers, pressing upwards the whole way.

Clear liquid squirts from you the second he pulls them out. The gushes that follow are so intense that the leg he isn’t holding anymore shakes so violently that the metal rattles under you, the car staining with your come. He repeats the move again and again, over and over, and watches the steady trickle down the hood and onto the concrete floor that turns a dark gray.

Euphoria courses through your being as you come in a way that you have never felt before. Your limbs tingle as warmth spreads out from beneath your belly button, your cunt pulses with eager pleasure, and you sob through the waves that crash over you without giving you time to recover from the last. The whole room feels brighter and its colors more vibrant.

“Shh, baby, let it happen, feels so good, don’t it? That’s it,” Joel coos at you the whole way through, guides you through it when you barely know how to use your words. He has straightened to his full height again but you don’t know when, and he has slowed his fingers down to tease out a few aftershocks. You whimper feebly at each one, and when Joel seems satisfied with what he has drawn out of you, he covers your whole mound with his palm to soothe the feeling of overstimulation that settles.

“Soundproof,” he mutters, once again reading your mind when you come to your senses again and start thinking about your noise levels with furrowed brows and eyes flitting from him to the garage door. Your heartbeat has started to slow again, and the relief of knowing no one has been able to hear you makes you slump against the windshield and breathe deeply.

The remnants of your orgasm have made you smile, your body slipping into a deep state of satisfaction when the anxieties have been dispelled. Joel moves his hand up your lower body until it settles between your breasts, still covered by your dress. He caresses your heaving chest, looking at you boyishly for the first time, “You good? Didn’t cause any brain damage, did I?”

“You think this truck has ever seen action like that before?” You joke breathlessly.

“Probably ain’t the first time I disappointed a gorgeous lady in its presence,” he says with an apologetic smile, “Sorry ‘bout that.”

“Disappointed? You’re insane,” you stretch your arms above your head to get some of the last bits of euphoria out of your body, trying to ignore the way he has just called you a gorgeous lady. He probably means nothing by it. As your stretch peaks, you moan gently, “I came two times. Hard. I’m not complaining.”

“Just saying that I woulda liked to do it… properly, I guess,” he talks as he stuffs himself back into his underwear and pants, most likely trying to feel the least uncomfortable about mentioning his overexcitement. Automatically, he steps back when you jump off the car to adjust your dress.

“This doesn’t have to be a one-time thing,” you try to act casual as you say it but there’s no way you are accepting the best sex of your life to be a thing you will never have again, reducing it to a movie merely playing behind your eyelids as a cruel reminder of what is unattainable.

“And when would we have time for that?” He asks, zipping up his jeans. He wipes his hands on them, “We can’t, honey.”

“We just did,” you mumble, picking up your underwear from the floor. You turn the panties in your hands, just about to bend down to put them on before deciding against it. Boldly, you stand in front of him and stuff your sticky underwear into his front pocket; closest to his crotch. There are extra pairs in your bag in Sarah’s room. He can have these.

He looks down briefly and then finds your eyes. His jaw clenches as he weighs his words, “When?”

“Aren’t you driving me to the airport on Sunday?” You smile and kiss his cheek, and then you leave him, your soda in hand and a mess on the floor.

If you would like to follow my writing then go follow @notjustjavierpena-fics and turn on notifications 💖❤️

#pedro pascal characters #joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #the last of us #my writing #pedro pascal fanfic #pedro pascal smut #joel tlou #joel the last of us #joel miller imagine #joel miller fanfic #joel miller smut #joel miller the last of us

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wendichester · 20 days ago

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hi! I was thinking if you could write something kinda angst??? where reader have been acting kinda strange and having those little moments where she looks sick, and then she tells dean she's pregnant ! how you think he is going to take it?

Or maybe secret baby ! dean and reader see eachother again after a little bit more than a yer and she's with a pretty baby that looks like him !

˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚ not ready yet,

summary. you've been keeping your pregnancy from dean and he doesn't take it well.

pairing. dean winchester x reader

wordcount. 681

notes. i do feel like his initial response would be flight--too scared that he'd turn out like john, that we'd mess you and the baby up. though he would eventually get his head straight and come running back, wanting to do this with you. thanks for the request, love! 🩷

Dean Winchester knows when something’s wrong.

You’ve been acting off for weeks now—ducking out of conversations, getting quiet when Sam asks how you’re doing, disappearing to the bathroom for longer than usual. And the worst part? You won’t tell him what’s going on. It’s eating him alive.

So, when you sit him down in the motel room with that look—wide-eyed and scared, your fingers twisted together like you’re holding yourself together—it feels like a punch in the gut before you’ve even said a word.

“Alright,” Dean says, leaning back against the dresser, arms crossed over his chest. His voice is calm, but there’s an edge to it, his jaw tight. “What’s going on? You’ve been weird for weeks.”

You flinch at his tone, but you don’t blame him. He’s been patient, and you’ve been distant. Still, his frustration only makes the knot in your stomach tighten.

“I need to tell you something,” you start, your voice shaky.

“Yeah, no kidding,” Dean snaps, and immediately regrets it when he sees the way your shoulders tense. He softens, exhaling through his nose. “Sorry. Just... talk to me, alright?”

You take a deep breath, trying to find the words, but they feel stuck. Heavy. Impossible.

“I’m pregnant.”

It comes out barely above a whisper, but it feels deafening in the silence that follows.

Dean blinks at you, his expression blank for a moment. And then he laughs—short, sharp, bitter. “That’s not funny.”

“It’s not a joke,” you say, your voice trembling. “I’m serious, Dean.”

He stares at you like you’ve just told him the world’s ending. “You’re serious,” he repeats, more to himself than to you. He rubs a hand down his face, pacing a few steps before stopping and turning back to you. “How the hell did this happen?”

You bristle at his tone. “You want me to explain the birds and the bees, Dean? Because I thought you had that part figured out.”

“Don’t,” he says sharply, his voice rising. “Don’t do that. Don’t make this a joke.”

“I’m not joking!” you snap back, standing up now, your hands clenched into fists at your sides. “Do you think I wanted this? Do you think I planned this? Because I didn’t. I didn’t ask for this, Dean.”

“And you think I did?” Dean fires back, his voice breaking. “We’re hunters, for God’s sake! We don’t get white picket fences and diaper changes. This isn’t our life!”

“I know that!” you shout, tears stinging your eyes. “But it’s happening, Dean. Whether you want it or not, it’s happening.”

The room falls into a tense, suffocating silence. Dean looks away, his hands on his hips, his head tilted back like he’s trying to find some kind of answer on the ceiling.

“I can’t do this,” he finally says, his voice barely audible.

The words hit you like a slap, and your breath catches in your throat. “What?”

“I can’t...” Dean shakes his head, his voice rough. “I’m not... I’m not built for this. I’ll screw it up. I’ll screw you up. I can’t—”

“Stop,” you cut him off, your voice breaking. “Just stop. If you don’t want to do this, fine. But don’t stand there and act like you’re protecting me by walking away. You’re just running, Dean. Like you always do.”

His head snaps back to you, hurt flashing in his eyes. “That’s not fair.”

“Neither is this,” you say, tears spilling over now. “But I don’t get to run. I don’t get to walk away from this. So, if you can’t handle it, just say that and go.”

Dean stares at you, his jaw working like he’s trying to say something, but nothing comes out. Finally, he shakes his head and storms out of the room, the door slamming shut behind him.

The silence he leaves behind feels heavier than any words he could’ve said.

You sink back onto the bed, your hands trembling as you press them to your stomach. You’re not sure if you’re more angry or heartbroken, but it doesn’t matter. All you know is that you’re doing this alone.

⋆˚࿔ read part 2

want be part of the taglist.ᐣ ⋆.˚ ★— @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing ⋆ @deans-daydream ⋆ @ariasong11 ⋆ @ambiguous-avery ⋆ @krabog ⋆ @itsdearapril ⋆ @nymphet-quenn ⋆ @bluemerakis ⋆ @titsout4jackles ⋆ @lyarr24 ⋆ @hauntedrose555 ⋆ @chevroletdean ⋆ @dulcescorderitas ⋆ @blackmarketfruitrollups ⋆ @impala67rollingthroughtown ⋆ @rulesareshadesofgrey ⋆ @nervoussystemss ⋆ @daryls-luvrr ⋆ @defnot-svnshine ⋆ @sunnyteume ⋆ @drakelover78 ⋆ @angelblqde ⋆ @mostlymarvelgirl ⋆ @whisperingdaze ⋆ @bossyblondie ⋆ @lieutenantchaos

#dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #dean winchester x oc #dean winchester angst #dean winchester fic #supernatural #.docx #.req

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ask-an-epidemiologist · 5 months ago

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Why "COVID anxiety" is not an actual disorder

In psychiatric terms, a phobia is considered as such if, and only if, it is unreasonable. So, an average person experiencing panic attacks at the sight of bees would be considered to have a phobia, because they are more afraid than the risk bees present to them.

However, a person with a fatal allergy to bee stings would not be considered apiphobic. This is because, with the risk of death bees present to them, having panic attacks is considered a rational reaction.

I'm sure you can already understand my point.

COVID not only can kill you (particularly if you're medically vulnerable), but it can cause severe disability. Even ignoring that people who have had COVID in the last three weeks are 81 times likelier to die of cardiac events than uninfected people, survivors of COVID are also 40% likelier to develop neurological sequelae. Rates of POTS or other dysautonomias (dysfunctions of the autonomous nervous system, which can be anywhere from "uncomfortable" to "rendering a patient bedridden") are through the roof, and neurologists are finding huge increases in the under-45 demographic of their dementia patients- a demographic that was previously extremely rare.

If someone wears protective eyewear while welding because they don't want to be blinded by an arc flash, we consider that a normal and reasonable precaution. So why are people who mask being labeled as "anxious about COVID" considering that this virus will very likely disable them if not kill them outright?

"COVID anxiety" is a rational behavior, not a medical diagnosis- so why are we treating it as one? Simple: it's another politicization of medicine. Just as "hysteria" was used to silence women, and lobotomization was used to subjugate inconvenient people (especially of rival political affiliations), "COVID anxiety" is being used to silence those who refuse to cooperate with the false narrative that COVID is over and/or no big deal. The very sight of a mask is a stark reminder to medical officials and laymen alike that they should be doing something they aren't. It's why some doctors aren't even "letting" chemo patients, one of the most severely immunocompromised demographics, do this. Because even though they are carefully avoiding a lot more illnesses than COVID, the sight of the mask still makes the doctor think of the COVID precautions they are ignoring first and foremost.

That is to say, "COVID anxiety" is a punitive diagnosis made by doctors when they are angry at the discomfort they feel when their patients remind them of their utter inadequacy, and they created this solely to stigmatize and demean patients to ensure they wouldn't subvert the expected power dynamic again.

Zero competent medical professionals actually use this terminology for their patients, and if yours uses it for you, run, don't walk, to a new clinic. Helping you is a secondary goal at best for your doctor.

#covid #covid-19 #covid anxiety #long covid #masking

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moonstruckme · 5 months ago

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Happy birthday!! Apples pie: james potter with cartoon patterned plasters 💗💗

Thanks angel!

James Potter x fem!reader ♡ 236 words

“I don’t understand why it hurts so much,” James says, brown eyes a bit pouty as he watches you tend to his finger. “It’s worse than the time I cut myself and actually needed stitches.”

“Paper cuts are the worst,” you agree.

“They take something that shouldn’t even be able to cut you, logically, and make it sting like a thousand bees.” He shakes his head. “Nefarious.”

“I’m sorry, Jamie. I’ll handle the rest of the mail while you’re healing up, okay?”

“Yeah, please. Just be careful, darling, it’s more dangerous than you’d—oi, what do you have there?”

You pause. “A plaster.”

James gives you a baffled look. “It’s beige.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.” You try to suppress your smile. “This was what was in the first aid kit. Would you like me to go to the bathroom to get the cartoon ones?”

“Well,” he shrugs, a tad huffy, “I just figure that if I have to have a plaster on like a nerd, it may as well be a cool one.”

You press your lips together. The efforts to keep your grin at bay are becoming terribly arduous. “And your cartoon plasters make you feel cool?”

“Hey, I’m injured, don’t question me.” James frowns at you, but you can see the humor peeking through.

“My bad.” You take his face in your hand, kissing him briefly on the lips. “I’ll be right back with that, handsome.”

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evilgwrl · 6 months ago

Text

Captain Price x Reader

One Job

Summary: You’re his assistant and he needs help with something a bit more… physical

CW (MDNI): Fingering, oral sex (m&f receiving), unprotected PIV, creampie, some degradation, praise :)))), Price is a bit mean to you oops, spitting, ROUGH sex, age gap (legal ofc), hints of manipulation(?), sir kink???, dom price, sub reader

Word Count: 3,304

Masterlist

Working for the Military was a difficult job. Sure, you weren’t doing any physical labor but my God, the demands some of these men had pushed you to the absolute limit, the fluttering of a migraine swarming you like bees the moment you stepped foot on base.

It wasn’t their fault, they spent most of their time training, or fighting, or off hunting down a terrorist so if you could help them out by completing some of their much needed paperwork, you were happy to oblige. I mean, who could say no to dear Johnny’s face?

For the most part, your work was thorough, always completing it to the best of your ability and you were very proud of that. However, sometimes you happen to accidentally neglect the man you’re actually here for.

Captain Price.

While you were technically only his assistant, it was so difficult to turn down the other men. Their gruelling faces and scarred hands always felt like a knife twisting in you as you quickly grabbed their paperwork, ushering that this was going to be the last time you would help them out (it wasn’t).

So now, you find yourself here, sitting nervously in the leather chair across from the Captain’s desk, irritated scowl on his face as he inhaled his cigar, a thick puff of smoke exhibiting across the room before he placed it on the ash tray.

He rubbed his hands across his exhausted face as he sighed, “Sweetheart, I told you I needed that paperwork done by today and sent off to Laswell. I knew it was going to be a lot to handle so I purposely gave it to you early and have left you alone since.”

His tone was harsh and disappointed. You felt like a child being scolded for accidentally breaking something important.

“Sir, I-“

“You think I don’t know that you spend your time helping out my other men? I mean Christ, I understand you want to feel important around here but how will anyone take you seriously if you can’t even do the work for the one person you’re supposed to do it for,” his words were cruel, degrading you as you stooped lower into the chair, a pit forming in your belly as you avoided his angry eyes.

“Sir, I understand that I made a mistak-“

“Mistake?” He spat, voice growing gradually louder, “This isn’t a mistake, y/n, you neglected the work you were supposed to be doing all because you wanted to impress a few men in the military!”

You looked up at him, his words stinging you. You weren’t trying to impress them, you were only trying to help. “Captain Price, I understand your anger but you don’t need to result to shaming me,” your voice was heavy, the undertones of embarrassment evident as you diverted your tear-streaked eyes.

He let out a deep sigh, taking in your skulking frame. “This work is important, y/n, if you can’t handle it, I think it’s best if you either transfer or resign.”

Transfer? Resign? You had worked your ass off for over a year. Dealing with his shit, Soap’s shit, Ghost’s shit, Gaz’s shit! You make one mistake and suddenly you’re incompetent?

“I’ve been slaving away for you for over a year now. I understand that work is important and I can guarantee you that I can get it done by today, the latest by tomorrow, so instead of sitting here and lecturing me, when you know damn well how capable I am is a waste of both our times!”

You didn’t mean to yell, he knew that by the quickly changed expression once you had stopped. “Are you done?” He asked, voice gentle.

You nodded, embarrassed, as he handed you the paperwork, your nimbly fingers gripping onto them as you quickly left his office, kitten heels clicking against the floor as you scrambled to your own space.

By the time you were done, the sun had well set and almost everyone had gone home. You were praying that included Price. You turned off your little lamp, clutching your shoulder bag as you neatly stacked the paperwork in your arms, putting off the walk to his office.

Your walk sounded throughout the hallway, evident anxiety on your face as you stood outside the door, the large CAPTAIN JOHN PRICE sign glaring back at you. You sounded a small knock, praying no one answered but you found yourself letting out a small groan once you heard a deep, ‘come in’.

You opened the door nervously, palms clammy as you looked at him, nearly empty glass of scotch on his desk and his tired eyes glaring back at you.

“Sir, I finished it,” you said, placing the paperwork on his desk, “I’m sorry that it’s slightly overdue. It won’t happen again.”

He let out a breath, gentle smile on his face as he gestured you to sit down. You awkwardly obliged, fighting the ability to follow his order, but also to excuse yourself.

“Listen sweetheart, I’m sorry about what I said. You’re a very capable young woman, you’ve helped me, us, all. I just don’t want you to take on things that you don’t want to. The boys are very grown men, they kill for a living, doing a tiny bit of paperwork won’t dent their fingers.”

“I understand that, Sir.. I just.. want to help, I guess. It feels nice knowing people, important people, come to me for help… and even if it’s just because they don’t want to it themselves, it makes me feel good knowing they trust me to do it.”

“Like I said, you’re very capable. Just don’t want my men stealing my best girl I suppose.”

His words took you off guard, heat rising in your face as you looked down, a nervous laugh leaving your lips. “I try my best for you Sir,” you reply, still avoiding eye contact.

“Didn’t mean those things earlier, you know that?”

You nodded, still looking down as he cleared his throat. “Come ‘ere,” he said, voice gruff as he tapped on his desk.

You looked at him in surprise, mouth forming an ‘o’ shape as you hesitatingly got up, walking over to his side before plonking your ass down gently, almost like you were testing the waters.

“I’m sure you could handle anything I gave you, hm?” His tone was sickly, a teasing arrogance lacing his every word as you felt his hand graze your stocking-covered thigh, pencil skirt riding up at your seated position.

You nodded, mouth suddenly going dry, barely being able to think as you felt his every stroke against you.

“I asked you a question, didn’t I?”

“Y-Yes sir, yes, I can handle whatever you give me.”

He smiled, looking pleased as he stroked further up your thigh before placing a gentle kiss right above your knee. Nerves bubbled in your belly. Of course you wanted this. It was Price. You mainly took the job because you enjoyed looking at him, his rugged frame, laced with muscle from the years of hard work, tall body towering you whenever you stood too close.

His eyes watched you twitch slightly as his movements, taking in how nervous you were, yet so, so obedient. “You wanna prove to me how capable you are, hm?”

“Yes sir,” you nodded, your lips dry as your tongue darted out to lick them, cerulean blue darting down to watch the muscle lap at the fullness of them.

“On your knees,” he commanded as you immediately hopped off the table, dropping almost desperately to the floor as you perched between his thighs. His cargo pants were tight, almost straining against the visible hump near his crotch. Your mouth practically watered at how well he was filling them out.

Your hands gently reached up, stroking his covered bulge as you finally took in just how big he was. You weren’t a virgin, but if he was as big as you could feel, you just weren’t sure it would fit.

No, you could take it. You would show him you could take whatever he gives you.

His veined hands reached up to tug down the zipper, standing briefly as they dropped to his feet, now standing in his boxers. His cock was thick, practically tearing through the thin fabric as your eyes focused on the dark, wet patch prominent next to the head.

You watched carefully as he tugged them down too, thick, angry cock bulging out as you took in the sheer size of it. Jesus fucking Christ.

He took in the nerves in your eyes, hand reaching down to stroke your cheek as your eyes ogled the ginormous girth in-front of you. “Still think you can handle it?” His tone was cheeky, almost mocking as his thumb graced over your lips.

You didn’t reply, only reaching forward to balance yourself on his thighs, hand wrapping around the base of his cock as you kitten licked the tip. You could taste his salty precum, a string of saliva connected your mouth to his member before he hissed, your lips wrapping around the tip as you sucked gently, your eyes looking up at his face.

You pulled back and spat, a thick glob of saliva landing on his throbbing head as you curled your wrists around, lubricating it before taking him back into your mouth. You steadied your movements, building a strong pace as your head bobbled, taking him down your throat slightly as you gagged, your other hand working the remainder of what wouldn’t fit.

A hand wrapped around the base of your hair as he guided your movements, his hips bucking slightly as he groaned.

“That’s it baby, take my dick. Doing such a good job.”

His praise only edged you on, your mouth taking more of him as you spluttered, tears welling in your eyes as you watched his face contort with pleasure through wet lashes.

Your other hand nestled at his balls, thick hair lightly covering it as he practically growled at the sensation. You could feel his pubic hair against your nose as you swallowed around his cock, spit stringing down your chin making you look almost pornographic.

His grunts and moans egged you on as you continued to bob up and down his legs before he was pulling you off of him, his cock throbbing angrily, tip flushed a deep red as you gasped for air.

“I’ll cum down your throat another time, pretty, okay? Right now I gotta feel how tight your cunt is around me.”

You yelped in response, hands grabbing to lift you back up onto the table as he stood up, digits grabbing out to undo the buttons of your blouse before he growled, frustrated taking over him as he ripped it, the sound of buttons flinging across the room as you gasped.

“My shirt-“ you squealed as you felt his hands dive towards your chest, pulling your bra down to pool at your stomach before his hungry mouth was on his chest, licking and sucking and biting at whatever he would as you moaned. You held the back of his neck, rubbing gently as he took a nipple into his mouth, tugging on it gently with his mouth before pulling away to do the same to the other.

He looked up at you, gaze almost starving as he smashed his mouth against yours, your tongues fighting rapidly against each other as you tasted the residue of his alcohol, longing for more. You felt his hands grope at your waist, tugging down your skirt as you quickly stood up, lips still connected as you pulled it off, along with your stockings and panties. You kicked off your heels as he laid you against the table before pulling away from your lips.

You brought your knees up, spreading your legs slightly as he growled at your exposure, two fingers reaching down to dive into your dripping slit, gathering your slick in between before pulling them apart, the evident string making him let out a dry laugh.

“All that for me, love?” He groaned, fingers rubbing at your pulsing clit as he took in your wetness.

“Y-yes sir,” you admitted, slightly embarrassed at how much of a hold he had over you, over your cunt.

“Dirty girl, hm? All desperate for your Captain?”

You whined at the degrading words whilst you nodded, “Just you, Sir.”

He seemed pleased with your answer, his touch almost possessive as you felt two fingers at your entrance before they graced the tight hole, sliding inside with ease as a mortifying squelch filled the room.

His fingers reached places that you didn’t even notice existed as you whined, hips bucking before he lifted your thighs over his shoulder before bending down to lick a fat stripe up your wet heat. You gasped at the sensation, hand jolting down to rest on his scalp as he began to lick and suck at your sweetness, practically growling into it as he lapped at whatever he could.

You felt like you were in heaven. His beard scratched along the plush on your thighs as he worked his two digits against your sweet spot, his lips and tongue sucking at your folds and swollen clit.

“Oh fuck, Sir, please I’m gonna cum,” you whined as he quickened his pace, a tight coil forming in your stomach as your breathing became heavy. You let out a pathetic whine as your head fell back, his spare hand holding your waist as he continued his fevered movements, the coil in your stomach snapping as you moaned his name followed by a string of expletives.

“Tastes so fucking sweet, so good for me,” he growled as he watched you twitch, overstimulated by his actions before he pulled away, reaching up to grapple you with another bruising kiss. You felt the wetness of his beard and it made you even hornier as he kissed you with such need.

His hands gripped your hips, the force most likely going to form subtle bruises as he dragged you closer to him. You broke away from the kiss, your forehead leaning against his as you looked down at this cock, wrapping a hand around it, thumb darting over the precum as he hissed before watching you drag it over your tongue, a pleased hum leaving your lips.

“Dirty fucking girl, so pathetic for her superior, huh?”

His words were like poison, you lived off of it. You had no idea how you would be able to work around him after this. He didn’t take well to the silence, a spank landing against your pussy as you gasped, body jolting slightly.

“Speak when you’re spoken to,” he commanded, his hand reaching up to grip your cheeks before he asked you to open, your mouth immediately obliging as he leaned down, a wad of his spit landing perfectly on your tongue as you swallowed. He hummed at it, his own hand reaching down to grab his cock, slapping it against your puffed clit a few times causing you to squirm at the delicious sensation.

“P-Please sir, I need you.” Your tone was desperate, soft tears filling your eyes as he rubbed the head of his cock up and down your wet folds.

He tsked. “Just a needy slut for me, hm?”

You nodded, a gasp leaving your lips as you felt his thick head prod at your entrance, your hand immediately pushed against his chest at the burning intrusion before he grabbed it.

“Relax for me, love, you can take it.”

You let out a shallow breath as he laced your fingers together, your pussy fluttering as he pushed it deeper and deeper. He was massive, the burn absolutely ramming through you as you waited for him to bottom out.

“That’s it baby, I’ve got you. Taking me so fucking well.” His words encouraged you as you wrapped a leg around his waist, welcoming him before you pressed your lips against his, dragging him towards you using your leg as an emphasis to hurry up.

He laughed against your lips as a hand wrapped around your jaw, pulling away to pepper kisses along your neck before he thrusted slightly, the entirety of him now inside you as you practically yelped at how full you felt.

“Tight fucking thing, gripping me like crazy,” he gruffed, spare hand reaching down to thumb at your clit before he pulled out most of the way before slamming back in.

You felt all the air leave your lungs as you moaned, your sounds high pitched as he began to slam his hips against yours, thumb circling your clit as you could feel him practically kiss your cervix.

“Holy fuck,” you choked out as you wrapped your arms around his neck, nestling your face into the crevice as you bit down lightly to conceal your pathetic sounds.

He was a grunting mess as he praised you, coaxing you to cum around his cock as you felt him practically in your throat.

You were babbling at this point, your words slurring at how much pleasure you were in as he continued to pound into you at a brutal pace, other hand roughly groping at your right breast, tugging the sensitive nipple as your eyes rolled back.

“Take that fucking dick,” he growled out at you as he continued his abuse against your clit, his other hand now reaching up to grab your neck as he pulled you away from hiding, leading you into another kiss as his hips mashed against yours.

You could barely kiss him back, the pleasure blinding you as your eyebrows scrunched together, delicious expression written on your face as it egged him on to fuck you harder.

“Holy - fuck,” you whined as you felt your second orgasm building up. The coil seemed never ending, his rough thrusts sending you into a spiral before you screamed out, pussy clenching desperately around his cock as it attempted to milk him, his hand jolting tighter around your neck as his rhythms got more sloppy, a loud grunt leaving his mouth.

“Gonna make me cum soon, sweet’art,” he grumbled against your lips as he continued his bruising pace, your pussy moulding to the shape of his cock.

“Inside me.. please, please, Sir,” you whined desperately and somehow, he began to fuck you even harder, almost like he wanted to cum quicker just to fill you up with it.

His hands reached down to your hips, pace deadly as slaps and grunts filled the room and you knew you would feel his grip for days. He let out a staggered breath, his thrusts getting sloppy before he let out a groan.

You could feel his cock pulsing inside you, hot spurts of cum emptying into your womb as you whimpered, his head falling into your neck as his seed pumped into you.

He kept his cock inside you for a little after he finished emptying everything he could give you, soft pants filling the room, your bodies practically merged into one as sweats clung to every fibre you had.

You fell flush against the table as he pulled out, his cum pooling at your entrance as it began to leak out, his possessive fingers rushing to push it back in as his fingers swirled against your slit before pinching lightly at your abused clit.

“You okay?” He asked, gaze softening as he took in your fucked out expression. Your throat was dry, a croak of an “I’m okay” slipping out as he laughed, rubbing a gentle hand against your waist.

“Proud of you,” he cooed, his softening cock still out as he grabbed some water for you in his miniature fridge which you took gratefully.

“Guess you proved you could take anything I give you.”

#evilgwrl #call of duty x reader #captain price smut #captain john price #141 x reader #john price #cod mw2 #mw2 #call of duty mw3 #cod modern warfare #price smut #captain price #captain price x reader #captain price x you

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metranart · 9 months ago

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Acting like a bird in heat, Hawks ends up fulfilling his mating cycles with you… but now that his mind isn’t a pool of hormones… why does he keep looking for you?

Hawks x Student! Reader (Part 1)

Warning tag: obsessed! Hawks, possessive! Hawks, naive! student reader, violation of trust, dubious consent, mating cycles, rut response, obsessive behavior, uncontrollable thirst for reader, manipulation, forced, thigh riding, hormonal minds out of control, sexual content, first time, cock riding, teenage fuck, Dabi's toxically interested in you, Bakugo bestie yet secretly inlove wit you, love confessions, cock-drunk, Hawks trying to be good but failing miserably, gaslighting, HEAVY plot, lots of smut.

The last time you saw him, your fingers dripped in his milky and creamy essence, his cheeks were bright red, and foggy as the feather adorning his back, and his voice held an elusive pant as if trying to catch his breath, along with his actions. Self-consciousness, the new mask for him to wear as he disentangled your hand from his now flaccid cock, almost caringly, half-lidded golden orbs shinning in its post-delirium bliss yet hiding a regretful truth. How the fuck did this happened? And why the hell did he allowed it? What was that new confusing feeling inside his chest?Takami Keigo knew what it was, but had never had such a close encounter with it in his whole life.

Shame.

No man, no citizen, no hero... –shall call himself trustworthy, after what he did. After the kind of thoughts that now circled his brain...agh! and he called himself the Number two hero. What a farse.

A steady hand passed through his golden locks, disheveled strands restricting the smooth motion, as he heavily sighed.

I need a bath, thought mildly annoyed. Maybe that would serve him to clear his mind and untangle the treacherous feeling threatening to drive him insane, a cold shower would serve the purpose of cooling the deep mortification, he was experiencing. Fresh summer wind ruffled the papers scattered on top of his desk and at the same time, refreshed his blushing skin. The memory of his recent untactful sin, raving his brain like a horde of savages attacking a peaceful village. Damn his luck. Damn his choice of actions and must of all, damned the day, he saved you. Hawks could still remember so many details, little yet so endearing details about you. When arrived at the scene never thought for a minute, would become involved in such colorful acts.

Everything went peachy during the rescue; Endeavor handled the Villain with upmost care while incinerating his head right away from his body. Tactful, the winged hero recalled to think quite amused, it would have been a scarring scene, if not were for the villain being a Nomus. Yet, he couldn’t avoid but to think, there still were so many more options to reach the same end. His job in this particular scene was easy, to say the least. Save the hostage. A sweet, scared and highly ordinary young girl who found herself trapped in the crossed fire. UA uniform hugging your figure, as the Nomus paraded itself around you like a bee setting his sting to hurt. There was little time to act, and the moment the flames exploded from the Number one hero, Hawks saw his window open to save the deceptive young girl. Flying through hell fire landed with a soft thud in front of you, displaying his wings to envelop you in a cocoon of feathers, the red flames licking his crimson wings while shielding you from harm.

His gloved hands went straight to your waist in a studied motion, at the same time his gaze fixed in yours asking for permission to touch you, you almost threw yourself at him like a trembling leaf who seek shelter from the chaotic winds. The winged hero was quick enough to pull you into his welcome arms and fly up, taking you both from the ground just in time. The scorching heat caressed his flying form before both were out of reach. The crowd around the sinister cheered the incineration of the villain, and a swift smirk kidnapped the blonde’s lips in a sassy gest.

He knew he have it in him, Endeavor just needed a few notches in the right direction. All those musings were curtly interrupted as his eyes focused on the civilian resting in his arms, your round eyes caught him off guard, nevertheless, was quick to smile and reassure your questioning stare. You seemed in shock, probable still were. These nasty things never left a sweet taste behind. Flying you to the safety of the ground, landed near the scene, but far away to gift you with some privacy to compose. Hawks gently unwrapped you from his chest and placed a comforting hand over your hunched shoulders, reassuring smile always present in his welcome expression. "It´s ok, you are safe now." His palm gently squeezed your shoulder, thumb doing comforting circle motions over the fabric of the uniform. "Breath, in and out, you'll see how you feel better in matter of seconds–" You managed to quirk the edge of your lip up, and your frame stopped shaking, the tremors slowly disappearing the more oxygen you gulped. "Atta girl" The hero cheered, lowly. "In and out, you’re almost a pro." His good-hearted joke reaped the fruits as a melodic giggle escaped out of you, and your tense frame seemed to relax. "T-thank you, Hawks" you timidly stammered, eyes glued to your fidgeting fingers interlacing each other, nervously.

Looking up from your hands met his gleeful stare, and your cheeks gained a dust of pink. Your lips opened and closed as if wanted to say something but didn’t dare to. Hawks pretended no to notice, to save you the embarrassment.

He was used to have this effect over the female population, every woman in town was one smirk away from his warm bed, but the young hero had grown tired of those kinds of relationships. When you can have all, you can eat, eventually the buffet seemed less attractive, almost boring.

He liked sex, holly shit, he fucking did! as much as the next guy would. But he needed a challenge – actually wasn’t sure what he needed, but something inside him was unsatisfied and restless, continuingly poking at the back of his mind.

“Don’t mention it, cutie.” The hero said simply and looking around, realized that your home shouldn't be far away.

“If you want, I can take you to your house" he suggested, in a carefree and friendly tone, "flying everything is closer." Cheerfully, added.

Taking a moment to think, nibble your lower lip a bit but you ended up accepting. His amber glasses shone under the rays of the sun and without preamble, he offered you his arms which you nervously climb for him to leave the safety of the ground and surf the sky, again.

"Are you comfortable?” Keigo asked, feeling your body a little tense among his arms, being carried bride style across the sky would definitely woo any girl, nevertheless, you seem more uncomfortable than anything else.

“M´Ok.” you said, curtly, and hawks, merely nodded. “By the way, are we heading in the right direction?"

A blush swept across your cheeks at the realization of what he just stated, and timidly squeezing his arm to feel more secure, you glanced down and before you could tell him exactly where your house was, you noticed something coating your fingers.

“You are hurt!” You half-yelled worried, looking at your blood covered hand, and then, at his wounds. You had not noticed it because he had not said anything, nor had he complained, but his arm was burned and one of his wings was semi-scorched. To which the young hero, just shrugged his shoulders, not giving it much importance.

"Comes with the territory." He openly joked, but your eyebrows continued to frown. "It's not serious, a few of Endevour´s flames got me... nothing that won't heal in a few days." He encouraged you, but you weren't able to shake the feeling of guilt.

You had been training hard to become a hero, and just when it was time to prove yourself, you froze.

It was so, so embarrassing that Todoroki's father had to save you, that you refused to go back to the dormitory you shared with your class A classmates. Surely, they would be worried, not to mention, you had already ghosted, a few text messages from Professor Aizawa asking if you were okay. But you just kept feeling like you let everyone down. That was why you preferred to go home and cry your eyes out in the solitude of your bedroom, or among your mom’s arms.

Now, you felt even worse, since Hawks, the number two hero, was injured because of you. Maybe he didn't show it since he was too professional, but that wound was serious and would take more than a few days to heal, not to mention it could get infected.

Ugh! you had to help him, was the least you could do… It was what a true hero would do.

Setting your mind, you decided to use your quirk on him, despite Recovery Girl several warnings. Without a doubt, you could heal him... now the only setback was, not losing control while doing it.

An idea suddenly lights your brain, and catching a glimpse of a well-known hidden alleyway, near your house, you signaled to him that you had arrived.

Hawks landed softly, and let you down, looking around the place. "I'll take you to the door, which one is yours?" The young hero, offered.

“...Is the one on the other side of the alley.” You indicated, signaling a house, close by.

“Oh, fine.” Keigo said, not really understanding why you choose to walk instead of fly straight to your house, but he let it pass. “Lead the way, then.”

Both entered the alley which was being embraced by thin shadows and before you reached the other side, you turned around and looking at Hawks with embarrassment, you fidgeted with your fingers for a moment. Surprise morphed Keigo´s features comically when out of all the requests in the world, you suddenly asked.

“May-may I give you a kiss?” You asked, timidly and noticing his bemused expression, corrected. “...As a way of thanking you.... for saving me....”

Your timid request took him by surprise momentarily, but soon his features regain his cool, and was quick to nod to then leant down. A kiss on the cheek, Keigo thought it to be innocent enough, not a usual request, nevertheless, a simple one. If this put you to rest, he'll humor you. Keigo was cocking his head for you to place your sweet lips.... it's now or never, you breathed deeply.... if you were going to use your quirk, now was the moment.

Two slender hands perched in each side of the Hero´s face and in a firm, straight movement, you cocked his face in your direction, surprise registered in his face, and his golden orbs popped open at the feeling of your lips locking with his.

COMING SOON PART 2....

⭕️ In my PATREON you will find NSFW art of this chapter and more spicy MHA NSFW art and exclusive smut fanfiction.... Plus 'Spicy Foreplay tier reward' like: voting poll privilege for the exclusively Patreon one-shot stories where you can choose the couple pairing and kinky mood for the story and NSFW art, along with some naughty animation like THIS ONE ....and my eternal and vast gratitude for your support!!!

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arbitrarykiwi · 12 days ago

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It's Just Business, Baby: Overtime 2/4

The Recruiter/The Salesman x Recruiter!Fem Reader Smut Series

Summary: he saw no reason why they would want to hire you. He did just fine at the job! The higher-ups were stupid for even bringing you onboard, you had to be a liability. You were a walking enigma, a witch! He hated every little thing you did. So when he tells himself he’s following you so he could always be a step ahead of you, he doesn’t understand why after each meeting he’s left wanting to see you more.

Warnings: smut (18+) , stalking , violence , blood, slapping (y’all play ddakji) , fingering , ruined orgasm , name calling (bitch, whore, slut) , he’s mean , he’s a warning in himself , read at your own risk

Other Chapters: Workplace Conflict 1/4 , After Hours 3/4 , Professional Provocation 4/4

((Additional chapters will be linked as they release))

He managed to make it three days without feeling a visceral rage inside him. And that was because he hadn’t seen you. Both of you were on an ‘off period’ for a couple days and you two were not needed for recruiting. He still hated you, he told himself he always would hate you, but without seeing that stupid little smirk you always have on his face, his homicidal tendencies were significantly decreased.

Since his mind was not wracked by the enraging visual that was your face and he couldn’t hear the permanent sarcastic tone in your voice, he had room to think about other things. He tried to do exactly that, and made out good for a while. He was able to think about other things that weren’t involving you, he picked up reading again, scouted out abandoned buildings, and cleaned his living space top to bottom- but after about he still thought about you.

Okay…he was mad again. He didn’t even have to be near you and you were still permanently stained in his imagination. He caught his thoughts wandering to you when he was cleaning off a knife in the kitchen sink on late night.

He had decided to have a little fun, going out and doing some personal recruiting. He found a sleazy man who stood outside of a club, watched the guy for a while and when he realized the man not only was harassing women but begging to place bets with people around- he knew he had a perfect in. He managed to guide the stranger to a back room of the club, spike his drink while the man was boasting about the horrible things he’s done- calling it ‘guy talk’- and tying him up. It was honestly coincidence that he also got a message to take out that exact man from the higher ups. He took his anger out on the guy to say the least, doing entirely too much for what was asked for by the front man, taking it slow and dragging it out until the sketchy man was nothing but a heap of blood and flesh in the alley.

As he was washing off his knives, eyes fixated on the red that flows down his hand and into the sink, rubbing away the dark crimson to reveal a sterling silver blade, he begins to think of you again. What did you do on your time off? Did you also get a target to take down tonight? Did you think of him on your days off??

He’s suddenly slamming the knife down into the sink and letting out a frustrated yell. His hand that’s clenching the edge of the kitchen sink is shaking, he’s trying to calm himself down- there’s no reason why you should be making him feel any sort of strong emotion, even if it is rage. And now he’s thinking about you like you’re some domestic girl who’s not a ruthless killer who’s just as psychotic as he was.

His hand is releasing the edge of the steel sink and clenching into a fist. In a fast paced swing his closed fist is connecting with the wooden cabinet in front of him. The wood cracks and splinters under the force and bites at his knuckles like thousands of bee stings. He pulls his hand out, skin scraping against rough wood. His hand is cut up, blood spilling across his pale skin. He huffs, chest heaving as he collect himself. It’s all your fault, he rationalizes. And you’d have to eventually pay for the torture you inflicted on him.

You two are called back into work the next day. Instantly he’s filled with the intense loathing when you step on to the same subway as him in the morning. It’s like you want to irritate him and push him to his limits (you do) because you deliberately push past multiple people to come and stand directly next to him. You’re standing impossibly close to him, your arms nearly touching.

His eye is twitching ever so slightly, the hand holding the metal rod in the middle of the subway car beginning to clench harder around the metal, his knuckles turning white. You’ve never been this close to him. In the three, going on four years he’s worked with you- you have always kept your distance, using it to aid in keeping your wall of mystery tall and indestructible.

He can smell you. It’s a sickly sweet scent that makes his cock twitch in the confines of his work slacks. It’s like you’re wearing some pheromones enhancer or something, at least that’s what he’s telling himself to rationalize how good you smell. You’re much smaller than him, the top of your head just barely passing his shoulder. You’re also dressed differently, gone is your suit, now replaced with a deep navy pinstripe vest, your pants matching. You’re wearing a blood red silk blouse underneath.

His mind is swimming, the deep rouge of the silk hugged your figure. You laugh to yourself softly, snapping him out of his trance, anger returning when he looks up to your face and sees you raising an eyebrow at him in an accusatory, mocking look. “You’re staring.” You simply say, “Hard.” You scoff.

“I doubt that’s in dress code.” He responds curtly, head snapping back forward. He doesn’t pay any mind to your comment nor does he deny it. “It is.” You hum, your head turning back forward as well. Your hands were clasped in front of you holding the handle of your brief case. He huffs to himself, though you can hear it. The corner of your mouth quirks up even more than normal, enjoying the small hints he lets off that you’re getting to him.

You’ll give him props. Anyone else who didn’t know his intricacies like you did wouldn’t be able to see how his grip is practically digging into the solid metal of the pole he holds on to as his anger rises, how the corner of his lips fight themselves not to twist in a grimace, how his jaw clenches as he grinds his teeth. But you? You could see it, and you lived for every moment of it. You loved angering him, loved breaking his eerie aura, and loved seeing how he slowly was losing his patience with you. You wanted to break him.

Soon your stop arrives and you’re leaving his side without another word, walking out the sliding doors of the subway car and stepping out onto the platform. A cloud of your perfume is left behind. When the subway departs again and he knows there’s no possible way you can see him- he’s keeling forward, his forehead resting on the cool metal of the pole and eyes twisting shut as he inhales deeply. Every breath he intakes that is tainted with your intoxicating scent brings even more blood to his cock. He’s fighting himself, trying to fight off the erection as he’s inhaling harder- like he’s trying to prove tomorrow himself the hard on he has is random and not because of you. But as your scent keeps filling his sinuses and his cock strains harder against his pants he’s reminded again just how much he hates you.

He goes about his day the best he can, though you plague his every thought. Yet again, he’s taking his anger out that he has toward you on his surroundings- and this time it just so happened to be the sorry soul who accepted his offer of playing ddakji. Each slap he deals out he’s imagining it’s you. He imagines what you’d look like, your cheek swollen and red with the imprint of his palm, your lips parted as squeaks and gasps come from your lips after each stinging slap. Ohhhh, he thinks, he bets you look so pretty crying.

As soon as the thought rings in his mind, he’s winding back yet another vicious slap. It nearly knocks the man over. He hurriedly ends the game, passes off the card with the number and disappearing off into the subway tunnels. Why the fuck was he thinking of you like that? He hardly ever drinks but all he wants now is to go home, knock back a few drinks and go to bed and drift into a dreamless sleep. He was so glad he was done for the day.

He finds himself standing in an empty subway, waiting for the late train to take him back to his original stop. Times like these, when he’s alone and able to listen to the sounds of the night, are his favorite. He can hear the wind whistle down the subway tunnel, pipes and wires clicking and tapping above his head are his favorite times. It’s all the normal rhythm of the subway at night, a melodic symphony of metal and copper. Each sound he has memorized allowing him to notice if any little thing is off within the subway’s walls.

Then he hears something out of the ordinary, a new rhythmic clicking. It’s coming from the stairs. He listens harder, body becoming tense as he try’s to discern what this new sound is. Maybe it’s water dripping onto the tile stairs? No, he knows that sound and it definitely wasn’t that. Heels walking down the stairs? Now that’s it!

His head whips to the left to stare at the tiled stairs that lead up to the street. His eyes are narrowed, staring at the stares like it would stop whoever it was from coming down the stairs. But it doesn’t. And when he sees a pair of black heels come down the stairs, accompanied by black pinstripe pants, he finds himself practically huffing like an angered dog.

He’s hoping it isn’t you, he’s hoping that maybe some other late night traveler is wearing the same outfit he knows you’re wearing. But when you make your down the steps, your face coming into view- he is met with the awful realization that it is you coming down the subway stairs.

You’re smirking like you planned this, like you somehow delayed the train he was supposed to get on and timed it just right to come down those stairs when now one else was in the subway. He’s glaring at you like he wants to kill you, torture you, but you can’t deny how much more attractive it makes him. He still has his resting smile on his face but his eyes were burning with an intense rage that only made your clothes begin to feel impossibly tighter.

You step down the stairs with conviction, stepping onto the subway platform and immediately making your way over to him. Like earlier in the day, you stand next to him- nearly shoulder to shoulder. His senses are overflowed with the smell of you. His body is hotter than the deepest ring of hell, sweat is beading on his forehead as he fights himself to keep looking forward. He can’t stand to look at you right now.

“Shame the train’s late.” You say with a mocking pout in your voice. His hands curl tighter around the briefcase handle when he hears your voice. His mind is flooded with the idea of what it would sound like broken and out of breath. “Was hoping to get home on time.”

It’s weird to hear you speak to him so much recently, I mean he’s gone three years with hardly hearing your voice and now you seem to be chatting with him like you two are normal co-workers; and that you two were definitely not. And now you’re even talking about like outside of work?? It was weird. He never thought about you outside of work, but these past few days he can’t help but to imagine you outside of this job.

What did you wear to sleep? Did you sleep naked? He inwardly groans when the idea pops into your head. The image of your naked form begging to conceptualize in his mind, he’s sucking in a heavy breath and reaching a hand up to wipe the sweat that beads on his hair line.

He fucking hates that you catch it, that you can notice the little intricacies of his movements. He can see the rise and fall of your chest as you silently laugh to yourself when you notice his movements. He’s gritting his teeth, trying to get the image of your naked body out of his mind. “You good?” You hum, “Long day?” You quip and he’s letting out a low growl. The sound is a deep, dark sound that reverberates from his chest. It admittedly has a warmth beginning to pool in your lower stomach.

He clears his throat and places his briefcase on the bench behind you two. He situates his suit, pulling it down to straighten it out. “Do you want to play a game?”

His voice shocks you, dismissing your questions entirely and turning around towards the bench and bending down to unlatch his briefcase. If he wasn’t so enraged and flustered he would have relished in the feeling of seeing you finally falter. The stupid fucking smirk you always wear is wiped from your face and replaced by a genuinely look of confusion. Your stoic confidence wavers, looking at him like he’s the most confusing person to live- and in a way he was.

He turns back to you, holding out the two paper squares that you’re both so familiar with. His hands are extended, palms up, the vibrant red and blue paper of the squares looking extra vibrant in the low lights of the subway tunnel. You look to the paper and then up to him- he seems collected again. It’s an almost scary switch; from visibly angered and flustered to an eerily stoic, professional expression. It was like you were someone he was recruiting.

You laugh a bit, scoffing at him. “I’m clocked out.” You say with a grimace on your face. You play this game almost everyday with various strangers, why on earth would you want to play it anymore than you were told you. “Consider it overtime.” He says shrugging, looking down at you the way a wolf looks down at a fawn- an easy target.

You didn’t like this, you didn’t like that he somehow had the upper hand on you all because you didn’t want to be bothered with a round of ddakji. So you reach your hand up and take the red paper square out of his palm. Your manicured fingertips dance along the skin of his hand in a lingering electric feeling as you pull away. “Fine I’ll humor you.” You say with an eye roll.

He can feel the excitement coarse through his veins, the image of your face becoming red with his hand flashing in his mind. The freak he is, the idea just spurs him on. “Ladies first.” He says as he drops his blue square unceremoniously to the tile floor.

You smirk, an eyebrow lifting playfully. You don’t break eye contact with him, keeping your head up as you hurl the square to the ground. It hits his red square, flipping it over with an echoing ‘smack’. Your smile widens, not even having to look down to know you won. His eye twitches the slightest bit but he reaches into his back pocket, pulling out his wallet and beginning to pull out money.

“Oh no. I don’t need your money.” You say interrupting him. “No rewards this game. Just punishment.” You coo at him in a tone that makes his body become even hotter than it already was. He shrugs, trying to act like you had no effect on him. He slips his wallet back into his pants pocket and then straightens his posture. “I suppose that’s a good change of pace.” He rasps, his wicked smile beginning to widen when he sees is words have some sort of effect on you- your pupils are blown, your chest beginning to rise and fall with the heavy breaths you begin to take.

He wanted to say something else, maybe something that made your skin crawl and cause you to crumble more under his gaze but he doesn’t. Well he can’t. You wind your hand back and slap him with such force it causes his head to snap the opposite direction. He’s sucking in a breath, hand coming to cup his cheek to try and ease the heavy sting that’s left on his flesh.

The sadistic grin on his face begins to widen, he’s laughing. And then he’s turning back towards you. “I must say you have a powerful slap on you.” He chuckles, composing himself and glowering down at you. “You thought I wouldn’t? You’ve seen me working.” You quip back. You can see the way he tenses as he realizes you know about the various times he was trying to hide himself and stalk you from the shadows while you played ddakji with unsuspecting victims.

But like always, he gathers himself quick and shrugs, “It’s much different experiencing it. Can you blame me? A little thing like you slapping with the force of a grown man…it’s sure contrary.”

You huff at his words, wanting to retort back but the look he’s giving you and the slight purr in his words has you feeling hotter than before, a throbbing beginning to start in between your thighs. “I won’t take it easy on you.” He muses. “I wouldn’t expect you to.” You respond.

He’s bending down, and you have to admit; the image of him nearly on his knees looking up at you with the angry gaze he once had being shrouded by a hungry glint- it’s fucking amazing. But, he grabs the blue paper square off the ground and standing tall once more.

He doesn’t break eye contact, doing the same as you did and working quickly to throw down his paper square. You know by the distinct sound that he’s flipped your red square over. You have no time to react before he’s winding back and slapping you.

All the years of pent up anger and frustration are taken out in one hit. You can feel it. It has you jolting to the side, hunched over and gripping your cheek. It should have made you cry, or enraged you- but the freak of nature you were- it doesn’t.

You still for a moment in that position, the hand holding your cheek blocking his view from your face. A wicked smile spreads across your lips, you can feel the wetness that begins to soak into your panties, your heart is racing. This is exactly what you wanted.

He thinks he make have broke you, for a split second he almost finds himself wanting to reach out and check on you but then you stand up. You’re looking at him with wide eyes and a near frenzied expression. A crazed smile spreads across your lips, a red imprint of his palm blooming across your cheek.

You bend down, copying his earlier movements, squatting down and picking up the red square. You pause, holding the upwards gaze. His mind is swimming now, flooded with ideas of you on your knees as you choke and cry around his cock. He’s damn near thankful when you stand back up allowing the thoughts to dissipate.

You tilt your head a bit, rolling your shoulders back. You throw your paper square down on the ground. You don’t win this round, you hit his square and it jumps up off the ground but it doesn’t flip his over. “What a shame.” You say with a pout. He’s finding it odd you’re taking it so well, but he thinks it’s just a lucky win for him- he knows you know how to play ddakji, and he’s pretty sure your competitive self wouldn’t lose intentionally- so he just scoffs and shrugs. “Can’t always be so lucky can you, Miss?”

The little name he calls you only makes your cunt throb harder. It adds a weird personalization to the situation, it’s the first time he’s addressed you as such. You nod your head at his words, agreeing with him. So he deals out your punishment- his hand coming into contact with your cheek once again. It stings so much more this time, but the pain feels so good. You don’t fall over this time, your head just snaps to the side. A small gasping breath coming out of you, it’s a wanton sound that catches his ears and makes his body lock up.

Were you enjoying this?

He had to be crazy. Yeah that was it, it was just more of your tricks. You were doing your little witch magic and making him succumb to your ways. Maybe you were part succubus?! He discerns that’s what you really are because the way his cock swells even more within his boxers is all the proof he needs.

You repeat the same movements. Bending down, keeping your head looking up, locking his gaze with his through your thick lashes before slowly standing up.

This time when you throw down your ddakji square you’re tossing it down to the tile of the subway haphazardly and it lands nearly a whole foot away from his piece. “Oops.” You say, biting your lip in anticipation for what’s to come.

It seems to finally click with him. You were doing this on purpose. You were losing to him on purpose. He can’t even think straight, the only thing he can bring himself to do is slap you once again, this time harder than the rest.

He watches as your eyes flutter shut, rolling back in your head as a pained gasp falls from your lips. The gasp turns into a soft muffled moan when you bite your bottom lip. “You’re fucking enjoying this?” He hisses, his eyebrows furrowing in irritation.

He didn’t want you to enjoy this. He wanted to you suffer. To pay for the years of torture you put him through. “I don’t know what would make you say that.” You purr out, hand rubbing your cheek, looking at him with hooded eyes.

He stride towards you in only a few steps, his hand connecting with your throat and pushing you back into the cool tiles of the subway’s walls. You let out a choked surprised sound, hands coming up to wrap around his wrist.

“You’re looking at me panting like a bitch in heat and you’re asking why I ask that?” He hisses lowly, hand tightening around your esophagus, face coming closer to yours. “You like getting slapped around? Huh?” He says, shoving you harder into the wall. “B-by you, maybe I don’t mind it.” You say, your words hoarse and come out broken out by gasps, a twitching grin on your lips.

He sucks in a large breath, nostrils flaring, trying to compose himself even the smallest amount. “Bet you’re fucking soaked. What a whore.” He seethes, trying to degrade you- make you feel some shame. It doesn’t though, you’re letting out a strangled laugh. “Check for yourself.”

The words make all restraint, what little he has left with you, snap. And it snaps violently. With one hand still on your throat he’s using the other to work at your belt. It’s swift, rushed movements, his fingers nearly ripping off the button of your pants and pulling down the zipper. His hand dips into your panties, moving down the swell of your pubic bone.

His fingers drop to your cunt, running between your folds. You watch’s as his expression changes when he feels just how wet you are from him hitting you during the ddakji game. When he feels your soft cunt against his fingers, practically soaking his palm already a low rumble reverberates in his throat.

You’re left a gasping mess under his grip as his fingers move along your pussy, practically finger painting with your thick, syrupy arousal. His hand on your neck moves up, pushing your head upwards by your jaw and pressing his nose to the column of your neck and inhaling the sweet scent he’s been dreaming of all day.

You’re whining, trying to circle your hips down on his fingers. “Such a soft cunt…so fucking wet.” He hisses right below your ear. “Don’t you have any shame? Making such a mess already just from being slapped around.”

When you try to speak a moan slips from your lips, the way his fingers work circles on your clit has you falling apart under his hold. “N-no shame at all..” you say, a blissful grin spread across your face as your eyes roll back. He scoffs at your audacity, the fact you’re even still talking pisses him off. His two fingers move lower and sink knuckle deep into your tight cunt in one movement.

You let out a wanton cry, admittedly with the job you had you didn’t get much action. The stretch of his two fingers entering into you so rapidly sends a jolt of pain up your spine, a delicious stretch that has you drenching his fingers into even more of your arousal. When he feels the walls of your cunt grip his fingers like a vice he’s biting down onto your neck to keep himself from moaning.

His fingers being to pump in and out of you, massaging your walls like he’s trying to memorize the feeling of you. It’s addicting, the feeling of your cunt weeping over his fingers, clenching around him and spasming each time he drives his digits deep within you.

His tongue and teeth work along your neck in painful bites. You’re sure he’s drawn blood more than once but you don’t care, it makes this all the more better. Three years of trying to get under his skin, trying to make him break- trying to get him to succumb to your teasing, finally worked and you got what you wanted.

He releases your neck from his mouth and pulls back to look at you. He quirks an eyebrow when he sees that you’re absolutely lost in pleasure, a lazy smile on your face as you begin to fuck yourself on his fingers. You wanted this he realizes- this is all you wanted, you wanted him to finger you. As much as he should enjoy that thought; it angers him.

Once again, you had the upper hand and he could not let that happen. He actually has to fight a war with himself to remove his fingers from your cunt. When he does it’s a quick motion, his hand pulls out of your pants and his hand releases the hold it has under her jaw. He’s stepping back from you and straightening out his suit.

You nearly fall to the floor, your knees buckling. You catch yourself and look up to him with a look of disbelief and desperation. Now that’s more like it. “Pull yourself together….a little finger fucking getting you that worked up?” He mocks down at you, an eyebrow raised. You catch your breath looking at him with a scowl. How adorable, he thought. You’re standing up straight and start to fix yourself- tucking your shirt into your pants, zipping and buttoning them. You redo your belt, the scowl never leaving your face.

He looks boastful, like he’s proud that he won for once. “Shame the train doesn’t show for another hour…gonna have to stand in your own arousal like a shameful whore.” He says looking over to you, but when he does you’re already turning and walking away.

He’s confused, you really weren’t going to wait for your train? Then he’s scoffing proudly- he really got you so worked up that you had to leave and couldn’t even wait by him.

“S’not my train.” You call over your shoulder looking back, “made the detour over her because I knew it was yours.” You sing out in a light hearted mocking tone, he can hear the grin on your face. You came here specifically to see him, came out of your way to meet him at this station….you knew you would work him up and eventually get him to break. And he just gave you what you wanted…he didn’t get one over on you like he thought he did.

Motherfucker. You were one step ahead of him….again.

Tag list: @putrescentpoet , @albertzj , @otterluver05 , @babyblue0t7

Let me know if you’d like to be added to the tag list <3

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cool-fancier · 5 months ago

Text

Unwritten Desires

Synopsis: Jennie Kim ruled high school—and your heart, though she didn't know it. A new friendship ignites jealousy, unraveling hidden feelings in this slow-burn romance.

Word Count: 4.7K

High school was nothing like you imagined. Instead of the bustling social life others seemed to have, you found solace in the quiet corners of the library, your head often buried in books. Being a nerd didn't bother you much, but it did make you a target. And at the top of that list of tormentors was Jennie Kim, the queen bee of the school. With her perfect looks, sharp wit, and magnetic personality, she ruled the school alongside her close-knit group of friends: Jisoo, Rosé, and Lisa.

Jennie's attention on you began almost as soon as you set foot in Northbridge High. Maybe it was the way you kept to yourself, or the fact that you didn't care about fitting into the social hierarchy that made you an easy target. Whatever it was, Jennie made sure you knew your place. Her friends joined in too, but it was Jennie's taunts that cut the deepest.

"Still hiding behind your books, loser?" Jennie would sneer as she passed by you in the hallways, her friends giggling behind her.

You tried your best to ignore her, to focus on your studies and pretend that her words didn't sting. But it wasn't easy, especially when Jennie seemed to take pleasure in getting under your skin. There were days when you wanted to snap back, to tell her off, but something always held you back.

Despite how much you tried to hate her, there was something about Jennie that fascinated you. It was an inexplicable pull, something you couldn't quite put your finger on. You loathed the way she treated you, but at the same time, you found yourself thinking about her more than you wanted to admit. It was confusing and frustrating, and it only made you more determined to keep your distance.

— — — — —

As the school year dragged on, you began to feel more isolated than ever. But then, halfway through the semester, a new student arrived. Mina was different from anyone you had met before. She was quiet, but not in the shy way you were; there was a quiet confidence about her that drew people in. She didn't care about the school's social hierarchy, and unlike everyone else, she wasn't afraid to approach you.

"Mind if I sit here?" Mina asked one day in the library, her voice soft but steady.

You looked up from your book, surprised to find her standing there. "Uh, sure. Go ahead."

Mina smiled and took the seat across from you, setting her bag down on the table. "I'm Mina," she introduced herself, extending a hand.

"Y/n," you replied, shaking her hand.

"I've seen you around," Mina said, her tone conversational. "You're always reading. What's the book this time?"

You glanced down at the book in your hands. "Pride and Prejudice. It's, um, one of my favorites."

"Classic," Mina said with an approving nod. "I love that one too. Elizabeth Bennet is such a strong character."

You smiled, relaxing a little. It was rare to find someone who shared your love of classic literature, and even rarer to find someone who didn't judge you for it.

As the days went by, you and Mina grew closer. She started sitting with you at lunch, and soon, you found yourself part of a small, tight-knit group that included Mina's friends, Yeri and Chaeyoung. For the first time in a long while, you felt like you belonged somewhere.

But not everyone was happy about your newfound friendship. Jennie's attitude toward you grew colder, her taunts more biting. It was as if she couldn't stand the fact that you were finding happiness, that you were no longer the lonely outcast she had always known you to be.

You tried to ignore Jennie's behavior, but it was becoming increasingly difficult. She seemed to be everywhere, watching you with a gaze that was both curious and hostile. There was a new intensity in her eyes, something you couldn't quite decipher.

— — — — —

One afternoon, you and Mina were sitting together in the cafeteria, discussing your latest assignment for English class. The conversation flowed easily, and for once, you felt at ease in a place that had always made you anxious. But that sense of peace was shattered when Jennie and her friends approached your table.

"Well, well," Jennie drawled, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "Look who's all chummy with the new girl. Guess the nerd finally found someone who can tolerate them."

Mina frowned, her eyes narrowing as she looked up at Jennie. "What's your problem, Jennie?"

Jennie's gaze shifted to Mina, and for a moment, you thought you saw something like jealousy flicker in her eyes. But then her expression hardened, and she crossed her arms over her chest.

"No problem," Jennie said coolly. "Just surprised that someone like you would waste your time with a loser like Y/n."

Mina's frown deepened, but she didn't back down. "She's not a loser. She's smart and kind, and if you actually took the time to get to know her, you'd see that."

Jennie's friends exchanged uneasy glances, clearly sensing the tension in the air. Jisoo stepped forward, placing a hand on Jennie's arm. "Come on, Jennie. Let's just go."

But Jennie didn't move. She continued to stare at you, her eyes boring into yours with an intensity that made your heart race. You couldn't tell what she was thinking, but there was something in her gaze that made you feel like there was more going on beneath the surface.

Finally, Jennie turned away, her expression unreadable. "Whatever," she muttered, before walking off, her friends trailing behind her.

You let out a breath you didn't realize you had been holding, your hands trembling slightly. Mina reached over and placed a comforting hand on your arm.

"Are you okay?" she asked gently.

"Yeah," you replied, though you weren't entirely sure if that was true. "Thanks for standing up for me."

"Of course," Mina said with a reassuring smile. "No one deserves to be treated like that."

You smiled back, grateful for Mina's support. But even as you tried to focus on your conversation with her, your thoughts kept drifting back to Jennie. There was something about her behavior that didn't add up, something that made you question everything you thought you knew about her.

— — — — —

The days passed in a blur of conflicting emotions. You found yourself thinking about Jennie more than you wanted to admit, trying to make sense of the way she made you feel. On one hand, she was your bully, the person who had made your life miserable for years. But on the other hand, there was something about her that drew you in—something you couldn't quite explain.

Meanwhile, Jennie was struggling with her own feelings. She hated the way she had reacted to seeing you with Mina—hated the jealousy that burned inside her, the way she couldn't stop thinking about you. She tried to bury those feelings, to push them aside and focus on maintaining her queen bee status, but it was getting harder every day.

Her friends noticed the change in her too.

"You've been acting weird lately," Rosé commented one day as they lounged in Jennie's bedroom. "Is everything okay?"

Jennie shook her head, not wanting to admit what was really bothering her. "I'm fine."

But Lisa wasn't convinced. "Is it Y/n?" she asked, her voice gentle. "You've been watching her a lot more than usual."

Jennie stiffened, her heart skipping a beat. "I'm just making sure she knows her place."

Jisoo frowned, leaning in closer. "Jen, maybe it's time to back off a little. You're acting like... I don't know, like you're jealous or something."

"I'm not jealous," Jennie snapped, but the words felt hollow even as she said them.

Her friends exchanged knowing looks, and Rosé sighed. "It's okay if you are, you know. You don't have to pretend around us."

Jennie's defenses wavered, and for a moment, she considered telling them the truth—telling them how she really felt. But the fear of what that would mean, of what might happen if she admitted it out loud, held her back. "I'm not pretending," she insisted, but her voice was softer now, less certain.

"Jen, you know we're here for you," Jisoo said gently. "You don't have to keep everything bottled up. If you like her... if you want something different, that's okay."

Jennie looked down at her hands, feeling the weight of their words. She knew they were right—knew that she couldn't keep running from her feelings forever. But the idea of actually doing something about it, of being vulnerable in front of you, was terrifying.

"I just don't know if I can," Jennie admitted quietly. "I've spent so long being this person... I don't know how to be anything else."

Jisoo reached over and placed a comforting hand on Jennie's arm. "You don't have to figure it all out at once," she said softly. "Just take it one step at a time. And if you need help... we've got your back."

Jennie nodded, though she still felt uncertain. She knew she couldn't keep going the way she had been, but she wasn't sure she was ready to take the leap either.

— — — — —

One afternoon, after a particularly stressful day of classes, you decided to head to your usual spot in the library. It was quiet there, and you needed some time to clear your head. But as you rounded the corner, you were surprised to find Jennie sitting at one of the tables, her head in her hands.

You hesitated, not sure whether to approach her or leave her be. But something in Jennie's posture—something in the way she was sitting so still, her shoulders tense—made you pause.

"Jennie?" you asked softly, breaking the silence.

Jennie looked up, her eyes widening in surprise when she saw you. For a moment, neither of you spoke, the air between you thick with unspoken tension.

"What do you want?" Jennie finally asked, her voice cold.

You swallowed hard, unsure of what to say. "I just... you seemed upset."

Jennie's expression flickered, and for a moment, you thought she might actually open up to you. But then she shook her head and looked away. "It's none of your business."

You nodded, feeling a pang of hurt. "Right. Sorry."

But as you turned to leave, Jennie's voice stopped you in your tracks.

"Wait," she said, her tone softer now. "Can we talk?"

You turned back to face her, your heart pounding in your chest. "About what?"

Jennie hesitated, her eyes searching yours as if trying to find the right words. "About... us. About everything."

The air between you seemed to thicken, and you felt a knot form in your stomach. "Okay," you said quietly, taking a seat across from her.

Jennie took a deep breath, her hands trembling slightly as she spoke. "I know I've been awful to you. And I'm sorry for that. But there's something I need to tell you, and I don't know how else to say it."

You frowned, unsure of where this was going. "What is it?"

Jennie looked down at her hands, her voice barely above a whisper. "I think I like you."

The words hung in the air between you, heavy with emotion. You stared at Jennie, unable to process what she had just said. "What?"

Jennie bit her lip, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. "I know it sounds crazy, but it's true. I've been so scared to admit it, even to myself. But I can't keep pretending anymore."

Your mind was racing, a thousand thoughts swirling in your head. "But you've been so mean to me," you said, your voice trembling. "Why... why would you do that if you liked me?"

Jennie looked up at you, her eyes filled with regret. "Because I didn't know how to deal with it. I was scared, and I took it out on you because... because I didn't want to face how I really felt."

You felt a wave of emotions wash over you—anger, confusion, hurt. But underneath it all, there was something else—something that had been buried deep inside you for so long.

"I don't understand," you said softly. "You made me feel like I was nothing."

"I know," Jennie whispered, a tear finally slipping down her cheek. "And I'm so sorry. I don't expect you to forgive me, but... I had to tell you the truth."

For a moment, the two of you just sat there, the silence between you heavy with unresolved emotions. Then, before you could stop yourself, you reached across the table and wiped the tear from Jennie's cheek.

Jennie looked up at you, her eyes wide with surprise and something else—hope, maybe?

"I don't know what to say," you admitted, your voice soft. "I'm still hurt, but... I can see that you're hurting too."

Jennie swallowed hard, her breath hitching. "I am. And I don't know how to make it right, but... I want to try. If you'll let me."

Your heart pounded in your chest as you considered her words. There was a part of you that wanted to run, to protect yourself from the possibility of getting hurt again. But there was another part of you—a part that you hadn't fully acknowledged until now—that wanted to give her a chance.

"I don't know if I can trust you," you said honestly. "But I'm willing to see where this goes."

Jennie's eyes lit up with a mixture of relief and gratitude. "Thank you," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. "I promise I'll do whatever it takes to make it up to you."

— — — — —

The days that followed were a blur of new experiences and emotions. You and Jennie began to spend more time together, slowly breaking down the walls that had been built between you. It wasn't easy—there were moments when the old hurts resurfaced, when you questioned whether you were making the right decision. But Jennie was patient, and for the first time, she let herself be vulnerable with you.

One evening, after a long day of classes, you found yourselves alone in Jennie's room. Her friends were out, giving the two of you some much-needed privacy. You had been talking for hours, the conversation flowing easily between you as you explored the complexities of your relationship.

"I never thought I'd see this side of you," you admitted as you sat on her bed, your back against the headboard. "You're so different from the person I thought you were."

Jennie sat beside you, her legs tucked under her. "I guess I've always been scared to show this side of myself. It's easier to be the queen bee, to keep everyone at arm's length."

"But it's lonely," you said softly, understanding dawning on you.

Jennie nodded, her gaze dropping to her hands. "Yeah, it is."

You reached out and took her hand, squeezing it gently. "You don't have to be lonely anymore. You have me now."

Jennie looked up at you, her eyes shining with emotion. "I don't deserve you."

You shook your head, a small smile playing on your lips. "Maybe not, but that's not for you to decide. I want to be here, Jennie. I want to see where this goes."

Jennie's eyes were locked onto yours, a mix of vulnerability and desire swirling within them. The air between you felt heavy, thick with unspoken feelings and anticipation. Slowly, Jennie's hand slid up your side, her touch sending a shiver down your spine as she explored the curve of your waist, her fingertips brushing lightly over your skin.

"Can I kiss you?" Jennie whispered, her voice soft yet laden with need. Her breath ghosted over your lips, and the intensity in her gaze made your heart race.

"Yes," you replied, barely able to speak as the tension between you grew almost unbearable.

Jennie's lips met yours in a slow, tentative kiss, her movements gentle as if she were savoring the moment. You could feel her hesitance, the way she was holding back, but the longer the kiss lasted, the more it deepened. Your hands found their way to Jennie's shoulders, pulling her closer as you pressed your body against hers, craving more of her touch.

Jennie's hand slid up your back, sending a wave of warmth through you as she kissed you with more urgency. She carefully pushed you down onto the bed, her body following yours until she was hovering above you, her lips never leaving yours. The sensation of her weight on top of you made you gasp, your mind spinning as her presence consumed you.

"Is this okay?" Jennie asked breathlessly, her voice tinged with both desire and uncertainty as she pulled back slightly to look into your eyes.

You nodded, unable to form words as you looked up at her. "Yes... please," you whispered, your voice trembling with anticipation.

Jennie's lips curved into a soft smile, her eyes darkening with desire. She leaned down to kiss you again, her mouth moving against yours with a newfound intensity. Her hand trailed down your side, her fingers lightly grazing your skin as she found the hem of your shirt and slowly began to lift it.

You raised your arms to help her remove your shirt, your breath catching in your throat as Jennie tossed it aside. She paused for a moment, her eyes roaming over your now exposed skin, admiration and desire evident in her gaze.

"You're so beautiful," Jennie murmured, her voice filled with awe as she took in the sight of you.

You blushed under her intense gaze, but before you could respond, Jennie leaned down to press a trail of kisses along your collarbone, her lips warm and soft against your skin. She moved slowly, deliberately, as if she wanted to memorize every inch of you. Her kisses grew more heated as she made her way lower, her hands gently caressing your sides as she explored your body with both her lips and her touch.

When Jennie reached the clasp of your bra, she hesitated, looking up at you for permission. You nodded, your heart racing as she skillfully unhooked it and slid the straps down your arms, her fingers brushing over your skin in a way that made you shiver with anticipation. Once the bra was off, Jennie's gaze lingered on your bare chest for a moment before she leaned down to capture one of your nipples in her mouth.

The sensation of Jennie's warm mouth on your sensitive skin sent a jolt of pleasure straight to your core, and you couldn't hold back the soft moan that escaped your lips. Jennie's tongue flicked over your nipple, her teeth gently grazing it as she sucked, drawing more moans from you as you arched your back, pressing yourself into her touch.

Jennie's hand moved to your other breast, her fingers lightly pinching and rolling your nipple as she continued to lavish attention on your chest. The dual sensations were almost overwhelming, a mixture of pleasure and need building inside you with every touch, every kiss.

"Jennie..." you breathed, your voice trembling as you felt the tension in your body coil tighter and tighter, desperate for release.

Jennie lifted her head, her lips curving into a smile as she looked down at you. "I want to make you feel good," she whispered, her voice thick with desire as she kissed her way down your body, her lips and tongue leaving a trail of fire in their wake.

When she reached the waistband of your jeans, Jennie paused again, her fingers lightly brushing over the fabric as she looked up at you. "Is this okay?" she asked softly, her eyes searching yours for any sign of hesitation.

You nodded quickly, your breath hitching in your throat as you felt your arousal growing more intense by the second. "Yes... please, Jennie," you whispered, your voice laced with need.

Jennie's hands were steady as she unbuttoned your jeans, slowly pulling down the zipper and sliding the fabric down your legs. The cool air against your heated skin made you shiver, but it was nothing compared to the sensation of Jennie's hands on you, her touch light and teasing as she traced the waistband of your panties.

She looked up at you again, her eyes dark with desire as she hooked her fingers into the waistband of your panties and slowly slid them down your legs, leaving you completely exposed to her. The vulnerability of the moment was overwhelming, but Jennie's gaze was filled with nothing but admiration and longing as she took in the sight of you.

"You're perfect," Jennie whispered, her voice filled with reverence as she gently spread your legs, positioning herself between them. She leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to your inner thigh, her breath warm against your skin as she made her way closer to your core.

When Jennie's mouth finally met your most sensitive spot, a sharp gasp escaped your lips, your hands instinctively reaching down to tangle in her hair as the pleasure washed over you. Jennie's tongue moved expertly, flicking and swirling over your clit with just the right amount of pressure, driving you wild with need.

Jennie's hands gripped your thighs, holding you in place as she devoured you with her mouth, her tongue and lips working in perfect harmony to bring you closer and closer to the edge. The pleasure was intense, almost too much to bear, and you could feel yourself getting lost in the sensation, your mind spinning as Jennie continued to pleasure you.

"Jennie... oh god, Jennie," you moaned, your voice barely audible as you felt the tension inside you coil tighter and tighter, building toward a release that was just out of reach.

Jennie hummed in response, the vibrations sending a new wave of pleasure through your body as she increased her pace, her tongue moving faster, more insistently against your clit. She was relentless, her mouth and hands working together to push you closer and closer to the brink.

The pleasure built higher and higher, the knot in your core tightening until it was almost unbearable. You were right on the edge, teetering on the brink of release, and all it took was one more flick of Jennie's tongue, one more gentle squeeze of her hands, to send you tumbling over.

Your orgasm crashed over you like a tidal wave, your body trembling as the pleasure overwhelmed you. Jennie didn't stop, her mouth still working against you as she guided you through the waves of your climax, drawing out every last bit of pleasure until you were spent, your body going limp against the bed.

When it was over, Jennie pulled back slightly, her lips and chin glistening as she looked up at you with a satisfied smile. She climbed back up your body, her hands gentle as she pulled you into her arms, holding you close as you both caught your breath.

"You're incredible," Jennie whispered, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead as she gently stroked your hair.

You smiled weakly, still trying to catch your breath as you looked up at her. "That was... amazing," you whispered, your voice filled with awe.

Jennie's smile widened, and she leaned down to capture your lips in a slow, tender kiss. "I'm glad you enjoyed it," she murmured against your lips, her voice filled with affection.

You felt a warmth spread through your chest at her words, and you wrapped your arms around her, pulling her closer as you pressed your forehead against hers. "I think I'm falling for you, Jennie," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

Jennie's breath caught in her throat, her eyes wide with surprise as she looked down at you. "You are?" she asked softly, her voice trembling with emotion.

You nodded, your heart pounding in your chest as you looked into her eyes. "Yes. I know it's complicated, and I'm still hurt by what happened in the past... but I want to see where this goes."

Jennie's eyes filled with tears, and she pressed a soft kiss to your lips. "I want that too," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. "I promise I'll make it up to you, [Your Name]. I'll spend every day making sure you know how much you mean to me."

— — — — —

As the afterglow settled around you both, a warm, comfortable silence filled the room. Jennie gently stroked your hair, her fingers weaving through the strands as she looked down at you with a mix of affection and something playful dancing in her eyes.

"You know," Jennie began, her voice soft but laced with a teasing tone, "I might still have to bully you from time to time."

You blinked up at her, surprised by the comment, but the smile tugging at her lips reassured you that she wasn't serious. "What?" you asked, a small, amused smile creeping onto your face. "Are you saying you haven't gotten it out of your system yet?"

Jennie chuckled, her eyes sparkling with mischief as she leaned down to press a kiss to your forehead. "Maybe not entirely," she teased, her voice playful. "I mean, I can't let you forget who's in charge around here."

You rolled your eyes, but your smile only grew wider as you played along. "Oh, really? And what exactly do you plan on doing to remind me?"

Jennie's grin widened as she dipped her head, her lips brushing against your ear. "Maybe I'll have to keep you on your toes," she whispered, her voice low and teasing. "A little teasing here, a little flirting there... just to make sure you don't get too comfortable."

You shivered at the way her breath tickled your ear, the playful promise in her tone making your heart race. "I'm not sure if I should be excited or worried," you said, your voice tinged with both amusement and a hint of challenge.

Jennie laughed softly, the sound sending a pleasant warmth through your chest. "Maybe a little of both," she teased, pulling back to look into your eyes. "But don't worry... I'll make sure it's the good kind of bullying."

You couldn't help but laugh at her words, your heart swelling with affection for this side of Jennie that you were just beginning to discover. "As long as it comes with some of this," you said, gesturing to the two of you tangled up together in bed, "I think I can handle it."

Jennie's smile softened, and she leaned down to capture your lips in a tender kiss. "Deal," she murmured against your lips, her voice filled with warmth. "But only because I really, really like you."

Your heart fluttered at her words, and you pulled her closer, savoring the moment as you kissed her back. "I really like you too, Jennie," you whispered, your voice filled with sincerity.

Jennie beamed at you, her expression so full of happiness that it took your breath away. "Good," she said, her tone still playful but with an underlying seriousness. "Because I'm not letting you go."

You smiled, your heart swelling with affection as you wrapped your arms around her, holding her close. "I wouldn't want you to," you replied softly, feeling a sense of contentment settle over you.

As the two of you lay there, wrapped up in each other's arms, you couldn't help but think that maybe, just maybe, this unexpected twist of fate had led you to something truly special. And with Jennie by your side—teasing, playful, and full of love—you were ready to embrace whatever the future held.

Jennie shifted slightly, her hand lazily tracing patterns on your skin as she pressed another kiss to your forehead. "You know," she mused, her voice soft, "I think we're going to be okay."

You nodded, feeling the truth of her words settle deep in your heart. "Yeah," you agreed, your voice filled with quiet confidence. "We're going to be just fine."

And as you drifted off to sleep in Jennie's arms, you knew that no matter what challenges lay ahead, you'd face them together—with a little teasing, a lot of love, and a future full of possibilities.

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