summary: Dean is used to getting everything he wants. You’re just trying to keep him humble and show him how good it can be when you work for what you want.
contains: smut! 18+ minors do not interact! NSFW! subby dean, whiny pathetic dean, pet names (baby, honey), no use of y/n, piv, loose description of oral f!receiving, no protection (wrap before you tap people), kinda toxic relationship idk lol
author’s note: this is absolutely feral lol enjoy!
It wasn’t exactly revenge.
You loved Dean. Really, you did.
But there was a small, teeny tiny part of you that enjoyed the thought of making a man like Dean Di Laurentis beg on his knees for what he wants.
Before the two of you even started dating, you were fed up with him. His sexual escapades were like folklore around campus, told in such hushed tones and with such astonishment you felt as though you should be sat around a fire with wolves baying in the background. It felt as though everyone had a story about him and you couldn’t escape it. You had one class with him, and so far you had managed to fly under his radar, but once he caught sight of you, he was a goner.
It took him months to convince you to go out with him. You thought after a while he would inevitably grow bored, but that was before you knew that he liked the chase. He liked the build up, the tension, the risk of potential failure.
When you finally agreed, you were looking forward to turning him down for a second date, so sure you weren’t going to enjoy yourself.
But you did. And that infuriated you.
Dean was a privileged man. He was from a wealthy family, he was conventionally attractive, he was extroverted and well liked. Things came so easy for him. That didn’t happen for you, you worked for everything you had. Except your love for Dean, that came easy. In fact, you worked harder to resist it than anything else. And something you really loved was how easy he made it seem loving you.
He worshipped you. He was affectionate and caring, he remembered the small things and went above and beyond with romantic gestures. He was perfect. And most of the time, you loved that. Other times…it made you a little crazy.
So, so what if you decided to take it out on him a little sometimes? Everyone deserved to experience what it was like to have to work for what you want in life!
So you started small.
Just light teasing, nothing crazy. You made him wait a few weeks before you let him have you in bed, and when you finally did, you made him slow everything down. HIs hands would shake from the restraint, his mouth chasing yours when you would pull back from kissing. And then, when you would touch him, you would purposefully avoid the places he was desperate for you to touch. You’d wait until he was begging. And then when you finally gave him what he wanted, the payoff was out of this world.
Then you started to get creative.
Dean was usually a very good boyfriend, but occasionally his dumb jock side came out, and he would do stupid things like completely forget about a date you had planned weeks in advance and instead go out with his boys and get stupid drunk.
You had waited at the restaurant for him for about an hour, calling him a few times before giving up and going home. But instead of anger, you felt excitement. He gave you an opportunity. He messed up, and now you were going to make him pay.
When he stumbled back into his room late that night, you were already in bed, facing the wall and feigning sleep. You felt him seeking you out and clumsily falling into bed beside you, but in his haze he barely registered your cold greeting. He fell asleep within a few minutes, his mouth wide open as he snored, and you took the opportunity while he was unconscious to turn back to face him and watch with quiet tenderness as he slept.
But the next morning, you set your plan into motion.
You woke to the feeling of him pressed to your back, his lips at your shoulder while he pressed against you warm and hard.
His voice was gravelly this early in the morning, the rumble of his, “good morning, baby” felt through your chest. You almost caved at the sound, but you steeled yourself and rolled onto your back to stop him from grinding his morning wood into your ass.
“You forgot about our date.” You didn’t skate around the truth, nor did you wait for him to remember. You wanted him to know why you were upset.
He sits up onto an elbow to look down at you. “Shit, baby. I’m so sorry.”
“I reminded you like five different times, Dean.”
“I know, I’m sorry I don’t know how I forgot, honestly.” His blue eyes filled with sincere guilt.
“I called you and you didn’t answer.”
“My phone died,” he explained quickly. When you don’t respond or move, he leans down to kiss at your neck. “Let me make it up to you.”
You let him slide down your body and disappear beneath the covers. You let him lick and suck and eat you out like a man starved, and you let him make you come.
And then, when he slides back up your body, his aching cock resting over your core and running the head through the slick, readying himself to sink into you, you press a hand to his chest.
“No.” You shake your head and watch as his face slowly crumples with confusion. “I’m still mad at you. Which means you don’t get to come.”
“But baby—“
“Nuh uh.” You push at his chest, and despite his wounded expression, he moves just enough to let you slip out from under him. He collapses onto the mattress as you go to use the bathroom and expect to find his hand wrapped around himself when you return.
And sure enough, he’s spread out on the bed, lazily stroking himself with a slight pout that makes you laugh lightly. You walk over and sit back on the bed and replace his hand with your own, lazily stroking him, the head of his cock already drooling from your attention.
“Here’s what’s gonna happen,” you begin. “You’re gonna get up and go to practice and you’re not going to touch yourself. You’re gonna wait for me to come home like a good boy, and then maybe I will let you come later.”
He whines at your words, his hips thrusting into your hand greedily before you pull away completely. He groans in frustration when you get back up, but he obeys, just like you knew he would.
And when he comes home later, he’s feral. His cock had been semi-hard all day, and is especially visible now through his sweatpants as he lays on the bed, fidgeting while he waits for you to come closer.
“Please, baby. I’ve been such a good boy,” he tells you in the quiet of your bedroom, his hands curled into fists beside him.
You watch him for a few beats before finally conceding, telling him take off his clothes. He does so in a matter of seconds, eagerly lying down while his cock bobs over his stomach.
You take your time, scratching your nails over his thighs, just using your fingertips to graze over the weeping head of his dick. By the time you’re straddling him, grinding yourself on his shaft but not allowing him to slip inside, he’s whining and whimpering so much you actually worry he’s in pain.
“What do you say?” You pause your movements, watching his sweat slick chest rise and fall rapidly.
“I’m sorry, honey. I’m so sorry.”
You smile and lean down to kiss him. “I forgive you.”
The sigh of relief he lets out is sweet, and you reward him by leaning down to grip him in your hand, stroking a few times before positioning him at your entrance.
“Please let me inside you. Please. I need it. I need it so bad.” His babbling is adorable, and you tell him so, though he doesn’t react since he’s too busy staring at where the two of you are touching. You take pity on him and end your teasing, letting him slide inside you and you’re so wet there’s no resistance.
He moans loudly at the relief, his hips bucking under you like he can’t control himself.
“I’m sorry baby. I’m gonna come, I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay, honey,” you assure him softly, leaning down to kiss his lips, his jaw, his neck. “Come for me.”
He’s quivering beneath you and releases a whimper as he finally comes. It seems as though it lasts forever, rope after rope of cum filling you up, so much that it leaks out onto his stomach and balls, and he’s still hard. He keeps thrusting, even after he comes.
“It’s so good. I can’t stop.” His breath comes rapidly, the both of you panting into each others open mouths as you begin to ride him, snapping your hips and swiveling to try and find that perfect spot inside you that never fails to get you off quick.
He comes at least three times before you do, and then he makes up for it by eating you out and then fucking you again to ensure you come as many times as he does. By the time you’re both finished you’re sweaty, sticky, and completely spent.
“Maybe I should get you mad more often,” he jokes.
You laugh. “Clearly I didn’t wear you out enough.” You climb over him once again and start over.
summary 𓂃 when you admit you’ve never been on top before, dean decides there’s no better place to learn than his bed.
warnings 𓂃 18+ mdni, explicit smut, established relationship, insecurity, first time riding, protected sex, praise, dirty talk, boob play, clit stimulation, missionary, soft aftercare.
word count 𓂃 3,468.
── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──
You'd been pretending to watch the movie for at least fifteen minutes.
Dean had been doing a terrible job of pretending he wasn't staring at you for just as long.
It was a terrible performance on both sides, especially considering the laptop was still playing some action movie at the end of his bed, and neither of you could've named one thing that'd happened in the last ten minutes. You were tucked under his sheets in one of his old Briar shirts, the hem brushing soft against your thighs because your underwear was the only thing you'd bothered putting on after your shower, and Dean was lying beside you with one hand behind his head and the other low on your hip like he was trying very hard to act like a gentleman.
He was trying to behave, which was sweet, really, but not exactly successful.
"You're staring again," you murmured, not even bothering to look away from the screen.
Dean's thumb moved in a slow circle over your hip. "You're in my bed wearing my shirt. You can't really blame me."
"You gave it to me," you pointed out, like that was supposed to make him less smug about it.
"I know." Dean's mouth curved like he'd been waiting for you to say exactly that. "Great decision, honestly."
You rolled your eyes, but the smile breaking through kind of ruined the effect. "You're impossible."
"Yeah." Dean leaned in, his lips brushing your shoulder through the fabric of his shirt. "But you like me anyway."
"Sometimes," you said, though your smile made it sound a lot less convincing.
"Right now?" he asked, his voice dropping just enough to make your stomach flip.
You turned your head to answer, which was apparently all the invitation Dean needed, because then he was kissing you, slow and warm, one hand sliding up your side beneath the fabric like he'd planned the whole thing. It was easy to melt into Dean like that, a lot easier than you'd ever admit out loud. Dean kissed you like he knew exactly how much time he had, which apparently meant he had no problem spending it dragging every little sound out of you to see how much trouble it got him into.
His fingers slipped beneath the hem of the shirt, warm against your waist in a way that shouldn't have made you gasp as quickly as it did.
Dean smiled against your mouth, entirely too pleased with himself. "There she is."
"Don't start."
"I didn't even say anything."
"You were about to, and we both know it."
He laughed, low and entirely too pleased with himself, before rolling onto his back and tugging you over him like he already knew you'd follow. And you did, because apparently thinking was no longer part of the plan, one knee sliding across his hips until you were straddling his lap.
Then you froze beneath his hands, and Dean felt the change in you immediately.
His hands settled on your waist, thumbs brushing over your sides in a way that was soft enough to make your chest ache a little. "Hey."
You swallowed, suddenly very aware of the fact that you were in his lap with your thighs spread around his hips, his hard length pressing up beneath his sweatpants, and somehow his shirt still covering you didn't make you feel any less exposed.
"This feels like a lot of responsibility," you said, aiming for a joke and landing somewhere embarrassingly close to panic.
Dean's brow lifted like he wasn't sure whether to laugh or be concerned. "Responsibility?"
"I just..." You looked down, your fingers curling into the front of his shirt like that'd somehow make the words easier to get out. "I've never really done this before."
His expression softened, though that amused little spark in his eyes didn't go anywhere. "Been on top?"
Your cheeks warmed, which was annoying because Dean absolutely noticed. "Not really."
"Not really?" Dean repeated, thumbs still brushing over your waist like he was trying very hard not to look too pleased about that.
"Dean," you said, dragging his name out like a warning, even though the warmth in your cheeks made it pretty hard to sound threatening.
He smiled a little, his hands giving your hips a gentle squeeze like he'd decided to behave for once. "Okay. Not really."
"It's not a big deal," you said quickly, which was unfortunate because saying it that fast made it sound like it was definitely a big deal. "I just feel like I'd look stupid, or I wouldn't know what I was doing, and then you'd have to pretend it was hot, which is a very nice boyfriend thing to do, but also something I'd never emotionally recover from."
Dean stared at you for a beat, then laughed in this soft, disbelieving way that only made your face feel warmer. "Baby, I'm hard because you're sitting on my lap in my shirt. You could sneeze right now, and I'd find a way to be into it."
You blinked because, annoyingly enough, it had worked. "That was weirdly comforting."
"I'm great at comfort."
"You're absolutely not."
"I am when you're half-naked on top of me."
You tried to bite back a laugh, but it came out as this breathy little sound instead when Dean's hands guided your hips down, showing you exactly how slowly he wanted you to move over him. The pressure caught against your clit through your underwear, warm and steady enough to make your thighs tense before you could stop them.
Dean's eyes darkened like he'd felt the way your body reacted. "Does that feel good?"
You nodded, your thighs still tense beneath his hands.
His mouth curved. "Words, sweetheart."
"Yes," you breathed, because apparently that was the only word your brain had left to offer.
"There you go," Dean murmured, his voice soft enough to make your stomach flip.
The next kiss was messier, mostly because Dean kept guiding your hips over him like he had all the patience in the world, dragging it out until your underwear was damp, clinging to you, and making it pretty impossible to pretend you weren't affected. At first, the sounds you made were small and half-swallowed against his mouth, but Dean noticed every single one like he'd been waiting for them.
"Don't do that," he murmured.
You blinked at him. "Do what?"
"Hold back." His fingers tightened on your hips like he was making sure you couldn't pretend you didn't know what he meant. "I like hearing you."
Your stomach flipped, which was annoying because Dean absolutely felt it, and then he kissed you again until the friction dragged a moan out of you that you finally let him hear.
Dean groaned, as if he'd heard you'd done something terrible to his self-control.
That helped more than anything else could have.
By the time Dean had pushed his sweatpants down and rolled on a condom, your underwear was shoved to the side, your hands were planted on his chest, and the shirt was still hanging over you like a very pathetic attempt at feeling covered. Dean didn't try to take it off, which somehow made your chest feel tighter. He just held your hips, eyes fixed on your face as he guided himself through your wetness.
"Slow," he murmured. "Take your time."
You lowered yourself carefully, trying to take your time like he'd told you to, but your mouth still fell open the second the head of his cock pressed inside you. The stretch was familiar and different all at once, deeper like this, more intense because you were the one in control, which sounded nice in theory and felt a lot more terrifying with Dean watching your face like that. You sank inch by inch, trying very hard to look like you had any control over yourself, but the second he filled you, your fingers curled against his chest, and a shaky whimper slipped out before you could stop it.
Dean's jaw tightened. "Fuck."
You froze immediately. "Bad?"
His eyes snapped to yours as you'd just said something insane. "Are you joking?"
"You made a face."
"Yeah, baby, because you feel so good, I'm trying not to embarrass myself."
Your cheeks warmed, which was embarrassing enough on its own, but the praise still settled low in your stomach like your body had decided to enjoy it before you could overthink it.
"You're not just saying that?"
Dean's hands slid up your thighs, grounding you in a way that made it annoyingly hard to spiral. "Move once, sweetheart, and see if I sound like I'm lying."
So you did, moving slowly at first.
Your hips lifted, then sank back down, and Dean's head tipped against the pillow with this rough, helpless groan that made it pretty hard to believe he'd been lying about any of it.
"Oh," you breathed, and the second you moved again, it turned into something closer to a moan.
Dean's eyes opened, heavy and dark, like he'd been waiting for exactly that. "Yeah?"
"Feels good," you said, already sounding a little wrecked.
His hands squeezed your thighs. "Then keep going, sweetheart."
Your movements were awkward at first, mostly because your brain wouldn't shut up long enough to let your body figure it out, too busy worrying about the rhythm, whether you were doing enough, and whether you looked ridiculous hovering over him in his shirt with your thighs trembling.
Then Dean's hands tightened on your hips like he could feel you spiraling. "Stop thinking."
"I'm trying."
"No." His voice dropped, rough around the edges but still gentle. "You're trying to look good, which is insane, because you already do. Just move how you want."
The words hit harder than you'd expected, mostly because Dean sounded like he meant them, so you tried to believe him.
You rolled your hips instead of lifting so high, chasing the angle that made your clit catch against him every time you sank back down, and the moan that left you was loud enough to make Dean's cock twitch inside you like he was having a very hard time staying calm about it.
Your eyes flicked to his face, and Dean looked so wrecked that it made it pretty hard to keep worrying about whether you were doing it right.
His lips parted, jaw tense, and his hands kept flexing on your hips like Dean was having the world's hardest time remembering he'd told you to move how you wanted.
"You like this?" you asked, and even though your voice shook, it still came out bolder than before.
Dean laughed once, rough and breathless, as the question had actually offended him. "Like it?" His hips jerked up into you, dragging a gasp out of your mouth. "Baby, I'm trying not to lose my fucking mind."
That did something to you, mostly because Dean sounded like he meant it, and apparently, your body liked knowing you could mess him up that badly.
Your next movement was smoother, more confident, and the moan that came out of you wasn't even close to quiet, which Dean clearly noticed because his hands tightened on your hips immediately.
"Dean—fuck," you moaned, and the way his eyes darkened made it pretty clear he'd liked hearing his name like that.
"That's it," he murmured. "Let me hear you."
You rode him slowly at first, then a little faster once you realized your body had apparently figured out what your brain kept trying to overthink, your hands sliding up his chest as his shirt rode higher over your thighs. Your cunt was soaked around him, every movement making it easier, wetter, and a lot harder to feel shy about, especially when Dean looked down to watch where you were taking him and groaned as he'd just lost whatever was left of his self-control.
"God," he muttered, hands tightening on your hips. "You were worried about this?"
You tried to laugh, but it came out closer to a whimper when he helped you grind down harder. "Maybe."
Dean looked like that answer personally offended him. "You're killing me."
His fingers tugged at the hem of the shirt, and you slowed immediately, like your body had decided to panic before your brain could tell it not to.
Dean noticed immediately, because, of course, he did, his eyes lifting back to yours, as if taking the shirt off suddenly mattered a whole lot less than making sure you were okay. "Can I see you?"
Your stomach fluttered.
His hands rubbed up your thighs, warm and steady. "You can keep it on if you want."
You hesitated for only a second before lifting your arms, which felt a lot braver than it probably looked.
Dean pulled the shirt over your head and tossed it aside, leaving you in your bra and still moving over him like your body hadn't quite figured out whether to be nervous or proud. His eyes dragged over you slowly, and for once, Dean Di Laurentis had absolutely nothing to say.
That made your chest tighten, mostly because Dean looking at you like that was a lot harder to handle than any stupid comment he could've made. "What?"
His hands slid up your waist, warm and certain. "You're so fucking pretty."
Your breath caught the second his palms covered your breasts through your bra, thumbs brushing over your nipples beneath the thin fabric, and your rhythm faltered immediately, because apparently, Dean touching you there made moving and thinking at the same time impossible.
"Oh—Dean."
His mouth curved, entirely too pleased with himself. "No, don't stop."
"You're distracting me."
"Good." His thumbs circled again, making you clench around him like your body had decided to prove his point. "Keep riding me anyway."
You moaned louder this time, hips rolling as his hands played with your tits through your bra, and every touch made you stutter in a way Dean very clearly noticed. Every bit of praise made you wetter, every look on his face made you a little bolder, until the embarrassment started slipping away as your body had finally decided to stop fighting him.
"Tell me," he said, voice rough. "Tell me what feels good."
You swallowed, still moving over him because apparently stopping would've been the worst idea. "Your hands."
"Yeah?"
"And your cock." Your voice was breathless enough to be embarrassing, but you said it anyway, and Dean's eyes went so dark that it made the embarrassment feel worth it. "Feels good when I move like this."
You rolled your hips harder to show him, and Dean's head dropped back as you'd just ruined him on purpose.
"Fuck," he groaned. "Don't stop doing that."
Hearing Dean sound like that ruined something dangerous to your confidence, mostly because it was a lot harder to feel embarrassed when he sounded like he was the one barely holding it together.
Your hands moved behind your back, unclasping your bra before your brain could show up and ruin the moment. It slipped down your arms and fell somewhere between you, and Dean stared as you'd just done something genuinely unfair to his ability to breathe.
"Look at you," he breathed, and the way he said it made your whole body feel warm.
The words made your chest warm in a way you weren't sure what to do with.
Then his mouth was on you, lips closing around one nipple while his hand covered your other breast, and you cried out so quickly it would've been embarrassing if Dean hadn't groaned like it'd done something to him. Your fingers slid into his hair, hips moving faster now as pleasure started building low in your stomach.
"Dean, I'm—" Your voice fell apart into a whimper when his thumb found your clit, because apparently your body had no interest in letting you finish a sentence. "Oh my god, right there."
"There?" he asked, smug in a way that would've been annoying if he didn't sound so wrecked.
"Yes. Fuck, yes."
He rubbed slow circles over your clit while you rode him, his other hand on your hip and his mouth moving from your breast to your throat like he wasn't already making it impossible to focus. You were close, so close your thighs had started shaking, but the rhythm was getting harder to keep, your moans turning messier and needier as frustration tangled with the pleasure your body kept trying to chase.
Dean caught it instantly, like every little shift in your body was something he'd been waiting for.
"Come here," he murmured.
Before you could even think about arguing, Dean rolled you beneath him and pulled the sheets over both of you, settling between your thighs without slipping out like he'd decided you'd done enough thinking for one night. The new angle made you gasp, your legs wrapping around his waist as he pressed deeper.
Then Dean caught both your hands and laced your fingers together, pinning them above your head so gently it made your chest ache a little.
Dean kissed you, slow and messy, like he had every intention of making good on that promise. "Let me finish what you started."
"Please," you whispered, and it came out a lot needier than planned, which Dean absolutely noticed.
Dean's expression flickered. Then his hips started moving. Slow, deep, steady thrusts that had you moaning into the space between you, thighs locked around his waist, your hands crossed with his over your head. The sheets tangled around your legs, heat building under the blanket, his body heavy and warm over yours.
"You did so well," he murmured, his mouth brushing your jaw like he knew exactly how badly the praise was getting to you. "Looked so fucking good on top of me."
"Dean," you whimpered.
"I know." His hips rolled deeper, pulling your back into an arch. "I've got you."
His hand slipped between your bodies again, thumb finding your clit like he already knew exactly what you needed, and your whole body tightened around him.
"Oh—fuck, don't stop," you gasped, which was probably unnecessary considering Dean looked like stopping would've killed him.
He groaned anyway. "Wasn't planning on it."
The pleasure snapped through you suddenly, hot and sharp, and your moan broke against Dean's mouth as you came around him. Your thighs locked around his waist, fingers tightening in his above your head like you needed something to hold onto while your body shook beneath him.
Dean followed right after, his thrusts going uneven as he'd finally lost the last of his control, face buried in your neck as a rough groan broke out of him while he held you close and came.
For a while, neither of you moved, both of you too warm and tangled beneath the sheets to do anything other than breathe.
"You okay?" he asked softly.
You nodded, still trying to catch your breath. "Yeah."
His grin appeared slowly, which was never a good sign. "So."
"No."
"I didn't say anything."
"You were about to."
"I was just gonna say you're definitely not bad at being on top."
Your face warmed, and you turned it into the pillow like that might somehow save you. "You're so annoying."
"And you were so loud."
"Dean."
"I liked it," he said, kissing your cheek like he hadn't just made you want to disappear into the mattress. "A lot."
You tried to glare, but it came out pretty weak, especially when he slipped out carefully and disappeared to clean up like he hadn't just ruined your ability to function. When he came back, he helped clean you with a warm towel, gentle when your thighs twitched, before pulling his shirt back over your head as it belonged there.
"Putting me back in this?" you asked, glancing down at the shirt.
"Obviously." Dean climbed into bed beside you and pulled you into his chest, looking far too pleased with himself. "It's my new favorite thing now."
You laughed softly, settling against him while his arm wrapped around you like he had no plans of letting you go anytime soon.
For a minute, Dean only rubbed slow circles over your back like he was trying to make sure you'd fully melted into him. Then his voice came again, softer this time, though obviously still teasing because it was Dean.
"So..." His mouth brushed your hair, and you could hear the grin in his voice before he even finished. "You wanna do that again sometime?"
You pinched his side, which only made him laugh because apparently even that wasn't enough to make him less pleased with himself.
Dean laughed and pulled you closer, sounding far too pleased with himself for someone who'd just been pinched. "I'll take that as a yes."
word count: 3.8k | steve harrington x fem!reader | (18+) smut. mdni.
summary: steve got grumpy over no pda >:( , now you're making it up to him by showing him just how needy he's been.
warnings: established relationship, slightly bratty steve, sub steeeeb <3, handjob, mirror used for teasing :P, edging?? HAHA, uhh cum eating (#happytrailmentioned)
a/n: HAI!! i've been sitting on this idea for a while and finally locked in. needy and eager steve is the red sauce that makes me go crazy.
୨୧ ⏔⏔⏔⏔♡⏔⏔⏔⏔ ୨୧⏔⏔⏔⏔♡⏔⏔⏔⏔ ୨୧
For once, you and your boyfriend’s schedules aligned, and you were actually able to spend some time together. Just the two of you. No babysitting. No interruptions. Just you and Steve.
You had both agreed to go out for lunch, chatting about anything and everything. Then got some shopping done, picking out new outfits for each other, but not before ending up lip-locked in the dressing rooms. You guys had some time to kill before you were supposed to be heading to catch your movie anyway.
You take note of something though.
Steve’s been clinging to you all day.
His hands always seem to find their way to your waist, keeping you close. He’s been showering you with kisses. Both in and out of the dressing rooms…
Mumbling compliments laced with temptation into your neck. You can tell he’s getting into a certain mood.
You both finally make it into the theater and settle into your seats. It’s pretty packed for a mid-day screening. Halfway through the movie, Steve’s attention is fully on you. He’s not even looking at the screen anymore. He has a hand splayed over your lap, fingers curling around your inner thigh. He leans in and nuzzles his face into your neck, leaving a trail of wet kisses on your skin and you feel his teeth moments later.
“Steve…” you whisper.
“Hmmmh?” he hums back, hand gripping you harder as he leans his face further into you.
Your hand digs in his hair and you give him a few light scratches.
“Steve, c'mon....not here-” your voice is soft and gentle. Normally, you’d never put up a protest for a good time, but you were well aware of the families and groups of strangers in the seats surrounding you. You can already sense the attitude to come.
As predicted, he pulls away with a huff of irritation, but stays close enough that your faces are nearly touching. Your hand lands on top of the one he has on your thigh. You intertwine your fingers with his.
His eyes are big and his lips form into a subtle pout. Eyebrows furrowing, making him look a little annoyed.
There he is. Your bitchy boyfriend. <3
You take his attitude as a blessing in disguise sometimes, because of how ridiculous it seems: he’s cranky because he can’t jump your bones right here, right now. Like, it irritates him to the point where he starts to get snappy. Only Steve Harrington. <333
The corners of your lips twitch into a smile and a giggle escapes.
“You mad at me?”
Steve’s eyes dart around your face.
“A little,” he pouts.
You raise your eyebrows at his response, “Yeah?”
He purses his lips to the side and nods his head repeatedly.
Somehow he’s still incredibly endearing even when he’s being bratty. You lean in and press a soft kiss to his lips.
“Will you forgive me?” you ask, batting your eyelashes at him.
He looks at you with half-lidded eyes, scanning every bit of your face.
“Mmm. Maybe. If you make it up to me later,” he says as he lets go of your hand and crosses his arms over his chest, turning his attention back to the movie.
Ouch.
Your mouth falls open into a smile as you let out a scoff. You lay your head on his shoulder.
“That was mean, baby,” you tease.
You feel him press a quick kiss to your hair, because of course he would. Underneath the attitude, he’s all whipped and soft for you, kind of like frosting. Sweet and addicting.
“I don’t like being shut down”
You lift your head up to look at him.
“We’re in public, Steve. People everywhere,” you whisper with a lighthearted tone.
He practically rolls his eyes, “Yeah, whatever.”
The movie ends and you two start walking back to Steve’s car. You cuddle up to him, hugging an arm around his waist, knowing he’s still probably bitter about earlier. He snakes his hand into your back pocket and you feel his fingers settle around the curve of your ass. Good sign.
“Where to?” he asks, keys jingling in his other hand.
“My place?” you suggest. “We’ll have the house to ourselves…” you add, knowingly.
He looks at you, fighting back a smirk, “Sounds good to me.”
୨୧ ⏔⏔⏔⏔♡⏔⏔⏔⏔ ୨୧⏔⏔⏔⏔♡⏔⏔⏔⏔ ୨୧
After hanging out on the couch for a while, Steve follows you into your bedroom. He takes a seat at the edge of your bed. You’re drawing the frilly floral curtains decorating your window. A faint golden light shines through.
“Hey,” he calls out, leaning back on his hands.
You turn around, taking in the sight of him. He scans the room as if he’s scoping the place out.
“Huh…look at that. We’re no longer in public,” he says with a smug look on his face, referring to earlier when you put a stop to his advances.
You exhale with a laugh. A smile forming on your lips. You take slow strides across the carpet towards him until you’re standing in between his legs. His eyes stay on you the whole time. He sits up and his long fingers wrap around the back of your thighs. Your own hands drape around his neck.
“I dunno, Harrington. You were kinda harsh back there,” you tease, looking down at him with a faint smirk. He looks up at you, eyes big and gleaming. He starts to place soft kisses along your arm, watching you like a puppy dog.
“I didn’t mean it, baby-” he switches to your other arm, speaking in between pecks, “just been. aching for you. all day.”
You comb through the front of his hair softly and settle your hand on his cheek, swiping your thumb across his skin.
“Yeah? I could tell.” There’s a subtle sultryness in your voice.
A low hum vibrates in his throat, “What a tease.”
“Hmph. You have no idea,” you say before you meet his lips in a slow kiss.
He smiles into it before he pulls back, the tips of your noses touching.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” he can’t hide the excitement in his tone.
“Wanna find out?”
He moves his grip up your skin, palming your ass in his large hands.
“Yes ma’am,” he replies contently.
You like the sound of that. And the sight. He’s completely pliable for you. His fixated gaze makes you realize you have full control right now. Your fingers cradle his chin and the way he’s looking up at you sends a rush through your body. You can’t help the grin that stretches over your lips.
“Lose the shirt,” you direct softly.
“Happily.”
He listens right away, hands moving quickly to pull his shirt over his head as he tosses it behind him somewhere.
Watching him closely, you notice the urgency he takes on. A pleased hum materializes in your chest. He seems to receive it as a nonverbal praise by the way his eyes soften and pupils double in size.
Your hands grip his bare, meaty shoulders as you lean in and press a kiss to his cheek. On his jawline. Right below his ear. Down his neck. You slide your hands down his chest as you drag your mouth all over him.
His skin is soft, tan, and covered in moles. You love using them as a guide, kissing and licking wherever they’re scattered.
He places his hand right where your shoulder and neck meet, massaging into your skin. His touch is gentle but filled with a pleading invitation.
Lowering yourself on your knees, you continue peppering his skin with kisses as you reach his torso.
His skin becomes bouncier as you reach his belly. A soft pudge pools over the waistband of his jeans. Your mouth grazes over his happy trail, the dark patch of hairs tickling your nose as you spend a little extra time admiring him there.
You come back up and kiss him lovingly. He meets your lips with haste, deepening the contact. His hands scoop your face tightly, pressing your mouths against each other harder.
Hearing his breathing become ragged, your own hands take charge of undoing his belt buckle in a few short motions.
“Jeans off,” you make sure to specify. He moves to lift himself up briefly and slides the denim down and out of the way. Leaving him now in only his boxers. You place both hands on his knees and slowly, very slowly, slide them up. The faint tickle of his hairy thighs prominent underneath your palms.
You look up at him and he seems to be bracing himself. Teeth biting down on his lower lip. Nostrils flaring ever so slightly. Eyes droopy with desire. Your fingers dip underneath the hem of his boxers, moving up just enough for him to shutter at the sensation.
You keep one hand placed on his thigh as you take the other and pull him in for another kiss. He moans at the feel, melting into you.
As you kiss him messily, you let your hand wander up his thigh, fingertips juuust barely making contact with the bulge in his lap. He groans into your mouth. You hear the way he’s starting to unravel.
His tongue slips past his teeth and finds yours. Wet and needy. He’s practically sucking your face, growing more and more eager by the second.
The intensity brings a moan from your throat and into his mouth. He swallows it and reciprocates. Louder. More frantic.
Your hands move against him again. This time, palming him through his boxers. He feeds a whimper into your open mouth. It pulses right through your core.
If there was one thing you loved most in the world, it was turning Steve into a needy, whimpering mess. He looks so pretty with his eyebrows furrowed and his perfect pink lips parted into an open gasp. It fuels you right up.
His hips grind against your hand, dying for more contact. Once. Twice. Something comes over you and you know exactly what kind of cards you want to play.
With a third roll of his hips, you sit back on your heels the moment you feel him move. Both of your hands in your own lap.
“Wha-”
He looks down at you, confusion taking over his previously angelic expression.
Your mouth hangs open, trying to find the right words.
“Honey…all I want you to do is to sit back and let me take care of you. Alright?” There’s a slight rasp in your voice, but quiet and calm enough to get through to him.
He doesn’t register what you’re telling him for a moment, but he nods along. Throat bobbing as he swallows. You can tell he’s just so eager and impatient at this point.
“Fu- yeah, okay,” the words fall out of him in a quick whisper, barely audible.
It looks like he’s in a trance. A literal trance.
Every time you take the lead, he gets shy and nervous.
Nervous that he won’t be able to last long enough to see your tactics through.
You know this. He always tells you about it after. How he finds it ‘so fucking hot’. Knowing that you’re able to wear him down like this fills you with immense pleasure — in every sense of the word.
Your eyes land on the tent in his boxers. It’s hard to miss. He’s gripping the edge of the mattress with white knuckles.
Both of your hands land on either side of his hips. You lay your face on one of his thighs, his erection in your direct line of sight. The outline of his dick is strained hard against the fabric. His tip threatening to bust through the large dark spot he managed to create with his precum.
“Awww…that looks like it hurts,” you tease softly as you stare at the sight. Saliva starts pooling in your mouth.
Steve closes his eyes shut and swallows dryly.
“Mmhm…ngh. Not…helping-” he mumbles weakly.
You bring your face to his lap and kiss his tip right through the wet fabric. His mouth hangs open with a groan as he tenses under you. Your tongue now swirling lazy circles around his head.
“Fuuucck,” he drawls out.
He brings a hand to cradle the back of your head as you lick him.
You pull back at the feel of his touch and you begin to stand. Steve quickly turns his focus on you in anticipation.
“Take those off,” you direct as you climb onto the bed next to him. With a brief rustle, Steve peeled off his boxers in record time. You position yourself so that you’re just slightly behind his body. He automatically starts to shift himself towards you, but you wrap your hand around his jaw and snap his head forward, stopping his motion.
“Uh-uh,” you interject.
Both your eyes and his are watching each other in the large full-length mirror across your bed. You lean down and align your lips to his ear.
“I want you to just watch. Can you do that for me?”
You can practically see the words seep into his brain and rush straight down to his dick.
He lets out a small breath he didn’t realize he was holding. His eyes finally start to blink, catching up to the present moment, watching you stare back at him.
He begins to nod with an open mouth, “Oh, fuck,” his voice is strained, “Yeah. Yes. Done.”
“Good,” you press a kiss to his face and turn to look back into the mirror. He looks thrilled. Eyes glossy and pleading. Lips curled into a faint smile. If he had a tail, it would be wagging a mile a minute.
You take your hands and start them off on his shoulders, running them down his chest, making sure he’s watching you in the silver glass.
“I don’t want your eyes leaving this mirror. I want you to watch yourself…...want you to watch me.”
Your hands reach his torso and soon they slide flat against his thighs. Just inches away from his crotch. His eyes follow their path in the reflection before him.
“And hands off, okay? Don’t move a muscle,” you warn him, waiting for a response.
He watches your stern expression in the frame in front of him.
“Yeah, got it,” he nods.
“Just....please, baby,” he turns his head to nuzzle into you as he leaves open-mouthed kisses on your skin.
“Hurts so bad. Please. I need you,” he whimpers into your body before he returns his gaze on the mirror.
You look down over his shoulder and see for yourself. His shaft is pulsating with veins. His tip is glossy and bright pink. So fucking pretty.
Before you touch him, you bring your right hand up to his mouth.
“Spit.”
He turns to look at you, a little taken aback for some reason, but he obliges and spews his saliva onto your hand. You slide your fingers across his mouth, collecting every drop. His tongue wets his lips.
You bring your hand to your own mouth and do the same. You’re both looking into the mirror as you wrap your fingers around his base. Dragging up and down his length. Mixing your spit, warm and slick.
Steve’s jaw went slack. He lets out a moan that connects straight to your walls, leaving you clenching in around nothing.
Moving up his shaft, you swipe your thumb across his slit, spreading the precum that was beading over.
He closes his eyes and throws his head back.
You let go at an instant.
He snaps his head to look at you over his shoulder, a pout forming on his face.
“Ngh…Baby, why’d you stop??” He whines, looking completely devastated.
“You gotta listen to me, Steve. Eyes on the mirror.”
Letting out a huff, his eyes lock in on you ahead, urging you to keep going.
Your hand wraps back around him and you start stroking him again.
Working him at a steady pace, you trail your eyes over him in the mirror. He’s looking right back at you with his eyebrows pulled tight together. His lips are parted into an ‘o’ shape.
You bring your eyes down to where your hand connects with him. His eyes follow. Your gaze is back on his face, studying his expressions, wanting to burn them in your memory.
While he’s watching your hand glide up and down, you start twisting at the tip. Fingers finding the sensitive spot on the underside of his head. He lets out loud, breathy moans. Whimpering and groaning like his life depends on it, since being vocal is the only thing he’s allowed to do.
You nuzzle your face into his neck while your hand keeps its motion.
“So loud for me tonight, you make the prettiest sounds…” you mumble into his skin.
Your mouth finds the vein jutting out from his neck and you press several kisses against it, feeling his pulse point thump against your lips. His heartbeat is frantic.
He grunts out a couple of soft gasps now that you’re pressed close against him. You move your mouth up and bite his ear. He loses his mind. With your touching and teasing, Steve’s as needy as ever.
He bucks his hips up into your fist. Tsk Tsk. You let go again.
“Shit, ‘m sorry…feels s’good. Please, I-I’ll stay still.” He’s out of breath and eager.
“I told you-”
“I know, baby. I know. I’ll be better.”
There’s a hint of agony in his voice. Dipping down between his words. He wants this so bad. You’ve got him all hot and bothered to the point of no return.
You notice how his gaze never deviated away from the mirror. He’s learning.
“Are you sure?” you decide to tease him about it for a moment, leaning back enough to watch his profile.
“Yes. I promise,” his throat bobbing in a dry swallow, “Please?”
You smile at the sound of his begging.
“Try not to ruin the best part.”
Steve shakes his head, “I won’t. I won’t.” He whispers the last part, almost like he’s talking to himself. Seeing him so strung up is feeding something within you.
Taking his length back in your hand, he twitches at the contact. A proper wince leaves his lips. He’s so incredibly sensitive now. His tip growing a deep red. You pump him a few times, rolling your wrist as you twist around his head again.
You hear him mumble under his breath as he keeps his eyes straight ahead, just like he’s been told.
You see his eyes take in everything before him. Now he’s actually watching.
Watching you jerk him off. Following your hand. Up and down. His breath hitches as he feels the mirror start to make sense to him. It’s starting to click, why you were so insistent about keeping his eyes glued to it.
You see his eyes move their way up his body and to his face. He stares at himself for a while and it makes your stomach flip.
You place your chin on his shoulder as you both now study his face. You squeeze your grip around his dick, feeling the veins along his shaft against your touch.
His face contorts as he hisses through gritted teeth.
“Now you see?”
His eyes shift over on your face next to his.
“See how needy and desperate you are?”
Your hand slows its speed, but drags harder against him, squeezing his cock with purpose. It drives him crazy. Moans becoming loud and whiney again as he watches his dick twitch in your hold.
“How easily you come undone for me? Hmm?”
Steve’s hands are pale as he grips the edge of the bed with all he’s got. He feels you stop your motion for a second, but you don’t let go yet. You’re waiting for a response. His eyes jump to your face at an instant.
“Yes. Oh my go-od, yes,” his voice wavers out of pure panic that you’ll let go again.
The sound you make in response makes his face burn hot. You continue your calculated strokes and bury your face in his shoulder. Kissing along his skin while your other hand snakes into his hair and tugs. Whimpers leaving his throat.
You lean over and drop a glob of spit directly on his tip. You both watch it drip down his shaft and pool at your fist before you spread it around.
“Fuuuckk,” he groans, almost cocking his head back, but stopping himself before he breaks contact with the frame.
You can tell he’s close by the way he’s starting to flex his tummy. Muscles contorting as you work him up to his approach. He starts mumbling in flustered whispers.
“Steve?” you press a kiss to his temple, coaxing the words out of him.
“Faster. Mmmnhm. Go faster,” he urges.
His hips twitch briefly before you pick up the pace, stroking him faster. The warmth of your spit feeling heavenly against his dick. His jaw hangs open and moans start rolling out.
Both of your eyes dancing in the mirror. Watching everything all at once. The sight of him losing composure makes you feel feral. You can feel yourself soaking through your panties.
“Haa. Honey- fuck ‘mso so close,” he hisses weakly.
A whimper of your own escapes your lips and goes right through Steve. He looks worn out.
“Hmm yeah? Go ahead, make a mess-” you encourage him, feeling a tingle burst through your chest at the sound of his voice.
Steve starts tensing beneath your touch with broken whimpers. As he approaches his climax, he brings his arm up and his hand takes hold of the back of your head, fingers curling into your hair. Itching to grasp onto something. You time it perfectly so that when he finishes, you control his aim towards his stomach.
He covers his tummy with his own cum. Warm white ropes cling to his skin.
You keep pumping him until he’s shaking and convulsing. The moans that fill the air are like music to your ears.
You let go and kneel in front of him, wedging yourself in between his legs.
He drops his head down to watch you, chest heaving from his high.
You lean in and lick the mess he just spilled over himself, swallowing his salty release. A guttural moan leaves his throat. He’s finally able to roll his eyes back comfortably. Lucky him.
The patch of hairs lining his stomach cling to the sticky substance. You hover your mouth over his happy trail, sucking and licking until every last drop is gone.
Steve grabs your arm and pulls you up to the bed with him. He takes your face and kisses you with a hungry passion. Tongues brushing against each other eagerly. You’re sure he can taste traces of himself, sending a warm feeling to your core.
“Definitely forgiven,” he pulls back just enough to watch the smile on your face.
➵ thinking about chris putting a bluetooth vibrator in you before you two go out with his friends + matt, except he gives them all access to it through an app
➵ warnings > this is my first time writing anything on tumblr so bare with me! this is smut obvi, sex toy use, pre-discussed free use, reader is never touched by chris’ friends but they obvi are involved here, reader does use her safe word but it’s not super urgently and everything stops immediately
“aight tell me again,” chris mumbles around the toothpick in his mouth. his hands brush against your thighs as he pulls your panties up your legs, standing up from his position kneeling to stand in front of you, his arms wrapping around your waist as he not-so-discreetly pulls your mini skirt down in an attempt to make it look longer than it is.
you sighed, hands coming up to wrap around his torso as you tucked your face in his shoulder. “chris,” you whined, “i’ve repeated it three times already, we’re good.” the brunette huffs in response, clearly not as amused by this as you are. “i have no problem making you say it three more. this is important ma, wanna make sure you all good.”
you sighed again, but repeated the words anyway, knowing it would make him feel better.
“everyone has access to the vibrator, but you can revoke anyone’s privileges if need be by kicking them out the group. everyone knows the color system and they should all routinely check in. my safe word is sunny, i can say it to anyone at any given point and the whole scene will immediately stop. this starts when we go in the restaurant and ends when we leave.”
chris nodded silently, pleased, before letting the toothpick fall to the floor and leaning down to gently kiss you, as one of his hands drifts off your waist. his palm cups your heat, consequently pushing the plug deeper. you whine, pulling back from the kiss.
“don’t start teasing, christopher.”
the corner of his mouth curls up in a smirk, his canine just barely peaking out. he goes to lean in again, his free hand moving to join the one between your legs, when his phone buzzes on the bed. the two of you glance over in sync, seeing a text from nate. we outside. she still good with this?
he hums, mumbling, “saved by the bell,” as he steps back, scooping his phone off the blanket and giving you a second to straighten yourself out.
“chris!”
matt’s voice echos up the stairs, clearly irritated that you two aren’t downstairs ready to leave yet. you can faintly hear the jingle of his keys as he throws them around, evidently having been waiting for a bit.
“yeah, yeah,” chris replies, “we’re coming.”
as self assured as you felt about tonight, you felt your blood run cold as matt parked outside the restaurant. nate in his car with two more of chris’ friends parking right beside you. you nervously stared out the window at the entrance of the building, feeling matt and chris looking at you.
“hey,” matt spoke first, his hand reaching back to rest on your knee, “y’alright? you can still back out if you want. this can be a normal dinner.”
chris piped up beside him, as you turned to look at the two confident men in front of you, “yeah, mama, no one will be mad if you’ve changed your mind.”
you hesitated, considering your options, before firmly nodding your head, “let’s do it.”
you watched in real time as chris’ whole face lit up, turning to do his handshake with matt before they stepped out of the car, chris moving to open your door for you. you watched as he pulled his phone out of his pocket, swiping a couple times and typing something before pocketing his phone again. everyone’s phones went off at once, nate and the other two, austin and cole, glancing at it as they got out the car. chris must’ve unlocked the group. a shiver ran up your spine in anticipation.
nate was the first to approach you, giving a quick hug and leaning down slightly, “you good?” you smiled at his concern, nodding quietly as you hugged him back. the six of you then made your way into the restaurant, chris mumbling something to the hostess before you were guiding to a secluded table at the back of the restaurant. you squeezed chris’ hand in silent gratitude, appreciating the privacy.
you sat down between matt and chris, the other three across from you, as the host passed out menus. you watched as she walked away, and almost tensed, expecting awkward silence. except, it was normal? conversation began flowing immediately, as if this was simply one of the monthly dinners chris had just began dragging you to.
the waitress came and took your drink orders before she left too, and you’d almost completely forgotten about the vibrator. clearly, no one else did. you bit your lip, hard, to conceal the gasp that almost flew out when you felt slow vibrations beginning to fill your core. you glanced around the table, but couldn’t tell who started it, as the conversation continued on. that almost made it better somehow, not knowing who was doing this to you. this gentle vibrations continued on for 30 seconds, before slowing to a stop.
you sighed, almost slumping against your seat, as you took a breath. big mistake. the vibrations started again, this time increasing tenfold. you squealed, turning to hide your face against the closest thing to you, which happened to be matt’s bicep, as you squeezed your thighs shut. chuckles echoed around you, the men clearly amused by your reaction.
you felt the familiar warmth of chris’ hand resting on your thigh, slowly moving inward as he grabbed your leg, pulling. “keep these open,” he murmured, leaning forward to press a kiss against your ear. you shivered, peeling your face away from matt’s arm, glancing up at him sheepishly. matt just smiles down at you, clearly not minding.
eventually the waitress returns with your food, and the vibrations stop, for a bit. you’re halfway through swirling your pasta around your fork when you feel it again, your legs jerking and squeezing together on instinct. matt and chris share a look over your head, before they each reach a hand down and grab a thigh, pulling and effectively keeping you spread open.
you whimper, hand dropping your fork as you hold onto the table. the rest of the night continues on like this, until eventually you feel like you’ll die if you don’t get to cum. you lean in to whisper in chris’ ear, telling him as much. he hums in response, but doesn’t visibly react to it. chris locks eyes with matt again, another silent conversation. the older brother tightens his hold on your leg, keeping you with no room to go as chris’ hand inches upward.
this time you can’t cover your gasp, as chris begins doing quick circles over your clit. your hands fly up to cover your face, your teeth digging into your bottom lip so hard you can feel blood bubbling over. when your orgasm hits it doesn’t just wash over you, it hits hard. but the vibrations don’t stop. before you know it it’s too much for you to handle and-
“sunny!”
the word has hardly passed through your lips before everything stops. matt’s hand leaves your thigh and instead sits between your shoulder blades, a quiet way of saying i’m here. chris’ hand leaves your puffy clit, his arm coming up to wrap around your waist as he leans in, murmuring quiet reassurances in your ear.
“did so good, pretty baby. took it so well.”
eventually you come down from it, and the rest of the night goes smoothly. you begin to lose track of how often you glance up and make eye contact with someone, giving a quiet nod or a smile to their worrying looks and whispered praises.
you’ve never felt more cherished, and on the way home you tell matt and chris this. but if the look they share is anything to go by, this isn’t the last time you’ll be doing this.
i was listening to Octane by Don Toliver while writing this and kept pausing to sing hahaha but anyway lemme know what you think!!
Before We Knew Better 7 | Andrew 'Pope' Cody x reader
Rating: 18+ MDNI
Masterlist
Summary: When Andrew ‘Pope’ Cody was taken into care Smurf pulled some strings and got him put in a place close to Oceanside. That place was with you and your parents. Something Smurf would later regret when she realised that the bond you and Andrew forged in the month he was there was never going away. The years went by and the older boy became your best friend. Your protector. Your person. Fast forward and when Andrew gets out of prison he finds out Smurf’s hatred for you has gone to a whole other level.
Pairing: Andrew ‘Pope’ Cody x reader
Warnings: smut, ANGST, slight sub andrew no squinting needed, smurf, mental illness.
A/N: sorry this one took a little longer it was actually a hard one because I had a really particular idea of it all in my head. thanks as ever for all your feedback. welcome to the taglist. hope you enjoy! SPOILERS for season 3 if you haven’t watched it. next chapter is taking us into season 4. also sorry.
When something falls apart people try to find the fault, the cause. They follow the loose thread to find where it fell apart, the place where everything started to unravel.
The problem was you were meticulously following multiple threads. Frantically retracing steps of moments in hope that it was something you might be able to fix.
The first incident you recalled with some warped sense of happiness despite the situation.
Andrew
Be ready in 10.
Need you to come with me to Lena’s school.
You were out front waiting within minutes, heart racing as your brain seemed to come up with all the worst case scenarios of what could have happened. Andrew doesn’t bother parking up when he sees you he just stops abruptly and leans over to open the door, pushing it open.
“What happened?” You ask as you climb in.
“I’m not sure yet. They just said they need to discuss an incident with me. She’s not hurt, I asked. Sounds like she’s done something.” He fills you in as he starts driving. There’s a look in his eyes that he has when he’s out of his depth. When he reminds you most of the kid version of him you met. When he needs you most.
Give the man a gun, a mask and a highly illegal, dangerous situation he’s fine. Completely in control.
Put the same man in the principles office of a fancy private school talking about his Niece misbehaving and he’s lost.
You reach over to hold onto his arm as his hands grip the steering wheel. Your thumb stroking, just a gentle reminder that you’re there.
The principle introduces himself and Andrew shakes his hand.
“Andrew.” You watch him rigidly introduce himself before turning to you. “This is my wife.” He says it so abruptly, so without emotion your brain takes a moment to catch up, so does your heart.
Looking back you don’t know how you kept a straight face as you shook the principles hand with a smile. A very wide inappropriate smile considering the circumstances.
And Andrew had brought you to be the seemingly normal one.
You straightened your face, your only reaction was side eyeing Andrew as you both followed him into the office. He wouldn’t look at you.
You didn’t have much more time to think on it when you see the blonde plait on the desk your eyes widen and your heart sinks. This was worse than you thought. You had assumed maybe some silly argument or slight push in the playground not this.
You glance over at Andrew as the Principle explains the incident. That Lena cut the plait off. That the girl was obviously heartbroken and how Lena had just stood staring at the girl, no expression.
It reminded you of the many incidents her Uncle had been involved in at school and the slippery slope Lena was now on simply being a Cody by name and blood.
“We care about Lena’s well-being. But we need to get to the root of this aggression.” You nod along, the face of a concerned guardian whilst Andrew schooled his own expression into a natural one. Despite the fact you knew he was disappointed, in himself more than anything. “I spoke to Clarissa’s parents, they’re not gonna press charges. But I think we can all agree that this isn’t acceptable behaviour.”
“This… it’s not like her.” Andrew responds, the look in his eye is one that says he wants to tell him to fuck off. “ She just… she just lost both of her parents.”
“What kind of grief counselling is she receiving?”
The second the Principle said this you felt like kicking yourself. Of course that was the first thing that should have been done. It just wasn’t something your family or Andrew’s went straight to and so it hadn’t even crossed your mind. You weren’t about to let him know that though.
“She should be talking to someone. It would help.”
“She doesn’t need a shrink.” Andrew said, defensively.
“I think what my husband means is…” You start, a sad smile on your lips and an almost pleading look in your eye. You needed this guy to believe Lena was in good hands because she was. “We’re looking for some alternate routes, ones less clinical. It’s taking us a little while to find the right fit but we really don’t want to put any pressure on Lena right now.”
He considers you for a moment. Then he smiles and nods. Asks you what alternatives you’ve been thinking and you remember seeing his name on the door. Dr Cooperman. Shit. You make it work. Tell him you think art therapy is a good fit for Lena and that you’d been struggling to find someone reputable.
You leave his office with a phone number for his recommendation but Lena’s still suspended and Andrew is still worried sick.
“I don’t know what I’m doing wrong.” He says as you are all settled in the car. He’s breathless and you know he’s spiralling. “You cut her hair?! We can’t do this by ourselves, we need your help! I don’t know what to do. You gotta act right. You can’t make shit wo…”
“Andrew.” You say simply. Your voice is soft but stern. He closes his eyes. “Take a breath.” He takes a deep breath.
“Do you know how hard it was for me to get you in here?” He speaks but this time he’s calmer.
“I don’t want to be here.” Lena says from the back seat.
“You do!” Andrew’s voice raising again makes you sigh. You want to step in but he is her Uncle and you never know how far you can go when it comes to her discipline.
“I’m sorry.” Lena’s little voice breaks you and you turn in your seat to look at her.
“We know you are. Uncle Pope’s not mad at you okay. He’s just worried.” You reassure. “Right?” You ask Andrew as you turn to him. He looks exhausted. Scared. Like the weight of the world is on his shoulders and all you want to do is hold him. Andrew nods and agrees with a quiet, “yeah.” He starts the engine and drives you all to Lena’s house.
Wrapped in a blanket sat on the couch later that night, animal documentary on the tv and your legs draped over Andrew’s lap he finally looks somewhat relaxed. One hand grips your thigh as the other grazes your calf leisurely with his knuckles.
“So…” He looks at you, notices your tone straight off the bat and knows what you’re going to say. A look of amusement behind his steady stare. “Wife.”
“I just thought… it would… you know…” You tilted your head, one eyebrow arched, clearly amused that he couldn’t quite say what he meant, “I thought it would help if we seemed… normal.”
You assumed as much but you can’t help some disappointment.
“Yeah. I get it.” You send him a small smile to let him know it was okay. “I mean you could have warned me. We’ve danced around each other for so many years and straight to wife.” You joke.
“It’s not that big a jump.”
The words hit you so hard you almost missed them.
He says it casually, eyes already back on the television, thumb rubbing once against your thigh like he hasn’t just shifted the ground beneath your feet.
You can’t think of a single clever thing to say back and then his grip on your thigh squeezes. He knows exactly what he’s done.
The second thread. The one you always knew was inevitable happened on an evening you had Lena alone. Andrew was on another job. He’d pulled a couple close together recently and you were more than happy to have Lena. It was just harder when she was suspended and you had to fill the days.
“Nina bear!” You heard Lena shout from her bedroom as you tidied up from dinner. You walk in to see her, tears filling her eyes which of course made you panic. The kid hardly ever cried.
“What is it?”
“I can’t find Nina bear.” The teddy she could never be separated from was not something negotiable to her.
“Where did you last have it?”
“This morning at Grandma Smurfs.” You sigh heavily. You had gone to pick up Lena’s favourite swimming costume before going to the beach. Andrew had told you all about Deran’s Dad, Billy and his girlfriend and the disgusting pool. Advising you not to go there. You didn’t need to be told twice.
Frankie, Deran’s dad’s girlfriend was there. Still sleeping beside the pool her and her drug addict boyfriend were squatting by. She had offered to watch Lena for you anytime. You’d politely declined and hurried Lena out of the house. Leaving Nina bear behind.
Both you and Andrew were on high alert after child services had approached him and Lena. It didn’t surprise you the school had reported the incident and any concerns but you felt a sense of responsibility. Everything had to be perfect now,
You deliberated on it but knew there wasn’t another option than to go and get the damn bear, Praying to god that Billy wasn’t there.
You hadn’t seen him since your were like thirteen and had no interest in doing so. He’d always taken joy in messing with Andrew. That had included messing with Julia and you to get him mad.
On the drive over you wonder if this is the best plan. The Cody house was one you never quite knew what you would be walking into. You park up and get Lena out of the car. You decide to knock rather than walking straight in, at least that way you can lower the risk of her seeing something she should’t.
You’re surprised when Frankie comes out of the back.
“Hey…”
“Nobody back yet?” You ask her.
She has a weird smile on her face and you just assume she’s high or drunk so you walk past her into the back to get in through the kitchen.
You can almost fell it again, the slow motion sinking of your heart, the way she turned with that awful smirk.
“Grandma Smurf!” Lena is excited and rushes over, jumping into her arms.
Of course she was out of jail. She comes back every time, like a bad dream.
You and Andrew had had the conversation. Had no real proof but you both knew it was her.
Smurf killed Baz. Something about that made you both more on edge. Like nobody was safe.
“We just came for Nina bear.” Your voice sounds distant. Your face clear that not one part of you is happy to see her.
“Now that’s a welcome!” Smurf says happily at Lena’s little arms around her waist. Her hand was laid on top of the little girls head like she cared but she just stared at you. Looking like an evil queen from a Disney movie. “She might as well stay now she’s here. Right Lena?” She says.
“Actually Lena was just getting in bed when we realised we forgot Nina bear.” Your voice is steady but your hands are shaking. From shock or the fear of how much her being out will change, for you, Andrew and Lena, you aren’t sure. “Come on, Lena.”
Lena, to your surprise does exactly as you say. Smurf does’t like it.
“Go grab Nina bear.” She walks out and you look back at Smurf. “She’s not staying here.”
Smurf just looks you up and down, venom in her eyes.
“Baby, I know you aren’t telling me what to do with my Granddaughter.”
“That’s exactly what I’m doing.” You say bravely as you walk up to her. There’s something inside you that you never expected. A kind of maternal instinct to protect that little girl you hadn’t counted on being so strong. Sure you cared about her but you were ready to go to war for her. And Andrew.
“I think you’ve forgotten who you’re talking to.” She says as she pushes off the counter and get’s in your face.
“No.” Your voice is low, taunting. Exactly what you know gets to her. “I know exactly who I’m speaking to. I see straight through you. I always have.”
“What’s going on?” Andrews voice has you relaxing but only slightly. .
Smurfs attitude switched up quickly, as always as she turned and saw Andrew, Craig and J stood at the doorway. She moved away from you and you took the opportunity to walk around the other side of the counter to Andrew. He held out his hand as you approached, pulling you behind him as you grabbed it.
Lena pottered out with Lena bear and another two teddies she’d dug out and Andrew opens his other arm to her, she tucks into his side.
The message is clear and Smurf receives it.
“She left Nina bear… she was here when we came.” You whisper in his ear. He turns his head only slightly to catch what you’re saying, keeping Smurf in his eye line as she says hello to Craig and J in the creepiest way possible.
“It’s okay.” He says softly, squeezing your hand. It felt like he meant more than tonight, more than that moment. That you would all be okay.
And you’d believed him.
He carried Lena to the car after telling Smurf, no argument allowed, you were taking Lena home. Once he’d buckled her in and shut her door he turned to you, one hand on your waist, the other coming up to cup your jaw.
“Are you alright?”
“Of course.” You nod but you can’t even convince yourself. You hadn’t known at the time that you had every reason to feel that way. That everything was about to come crashing down.
“I’ll be home as soon as I can okay.” He says, in that soft warm voice that comes so naturally to him around you. “I just gotta play along.”
“I know.” You nod, grabbing at the edges of his open shirt.
He bumps his forehead into yours gently to make you look up at him and when you do his lips gently press against yours. It’s gentle and he tilts his head slightly as your lips slide against each others he coaxes your mouth open and you pull him into you by his shirt. His tongue pushes into your mouth and although you know Lena can’t see you from this angle. Just her Uncles back, you pull away.
“Don’t be long.” You say your voice almost a whine. His eyes full of lust.
“I won’t.” He breathes before reaching around you to open your car door. “Let me know you get home safe.” He passes you the seat belt once you’re sat and watches you buckle in before leaning into the car to look at Lena.
“Be good for your Aunt.” He says before kissing your temple and shutting the door.
He waves at you both as you reverse onto the road and drive off.
“That was gross.” Lena said from the back seat, making you laugh.
It felt like a family. Despite the reappearance of Smurf he was being just the same as before, no pulling back and it sparked that hope even more.
When he gets home that night Lena is fast asleep. He locks the door before turning to you, expression tight, he looks exhausted. You only need to open your arms from your place on the sofa and he’s there. Burying his head in your neck as he wraps his arms tightly around your waist.
You don’t say anything. No need to ask if he was okay. Everything was a mess. Smurf being out again, back manipulating every situation only making everything harder. He just holds you tighter, seeking comfort. “Can we…” The rest of the sentence was muffled as he presses closer into you.
“What handsome?” You ask.
“Can we just… not talk about it tonight?” His voice is hoarse with emotional strain. You can only imagine the conversations had around that dinner table tonight. He kisses your neck gently, needing distraction, needing to be close to you more than anything else right now. His hands start to roam under your shirt almost instinctively.
And you let him because nothing needs to be said right now. You feel him smile, just a faint relieved one as he presses his forehead against your collarbone. His hands come up to your sleep shirt to unbutton it. He doesn’t need to ask for what he needs, you recognised it in him the second he stood there looking so defeated.
Pushing up your bra he latches onto your nipple and you have to hold your breath to not moan loudly. He groans low in his throat and you let him play with your tits his hips rutting up against nothing before one of his hands starts to slide down to you pants.
“Wait… wait…” You whisper pushing him back slightly. You’re very conscious of Lena’s bedroom being not too far away despite her being fast asleep but there’s nowhere else you can go. “Can’t do that here.”
“Fuck…” He whines.
“Sit back, handsome.” Kissing him softly you push him to sit back on the sofa. “It’s okay. I’ll still look after you.” There was something about these moments, when he let you take care of him, that feeling of being needed that you loved. The fact that he let you, only you take care of him this way was addictive. Not even just sexually but emotionally. While he took care of you so well, it was nice to be able to return the favour.
You turn off the tv, so the room is dark except for the moonlight streaming in through the windows as you kneel to take off his boots and pull off his jeans and underwear. You settle beside him as he spreads out his legs without thinking about it, an invitation.
He trusts you. With everything.
You cover both of you with your blanket and sit sideways, one leg over his. You stroke his forehead, pushing back some of the hair before gently scratching at the base of his neck. The blanket hides everything and you feel like a teenager again, fumbling under the blankets with the same man you now loved like it was your calling.
He watches you with half-lidded eyes, still tense but relaxing into you as your other hand trails down his chest, pushing up his t shirt. Your hand trails over his chest and torso before making it’s way to his cock, already hard. He’s letting out little pants and you bite your lip to stop yourself making those noises.
When you wrap your hand around his cock his breath catches sharply. He’s sensitive right now, emotionally and physically. You know he needs some kind of a release, an escape. You spit on your other hand before moving it to join the one which starts to slowly move up and down his cock. He lets out a low groan muffled against your shoulder as your hands start to move in opposite directions, twisting and squeezing just how you know he likes it.
“Fuck…” He whimpers with need as he fumbles to push your shirt out of the way again, palming your bare breasts. “Please…” he pants, arching into your hands.
“What do you need, handsome?” You ask moving closer so that he can reach you easily. His mouth finds you nipple immediately, desperate as his other hand keeps kneading your other. All the while your hands never stop moving, a steady rhythm that makes his breath ragged against your sensitive skin.
“I need…” a soft moan cuts him off and you let one of your hands dip down to stroke his balls. “I need to come… so bad.”
“I know…” You say in a soft voice that drives him crazy. Makes him feel loved, safe, cared for. “I’ve got you. Does it feel good?” You whisper as you leave soft kisses against his cheek, jaw and neck making his entire body shudder.
The contrast between the soft, sweet kisses and the firm way you’re jerking his cock makes his head spin. A rough, almost helpless sound escaped him. “Yes…”
Although you can’t see his face properly you can see pure ecstasy there. Completely lost in the sensation. Exactly where you wanted him. Whimpering openly, something he would never do in front of someone else but with you he can be anything he needs to be.
“Please…” He begs as the hand still on his cock speeds up ever so slightly, your thumb circling his tip, spreading the pre around. His eyes roll back at the feeling, his balls tightening at the sensation. So sensitive he can’t help but snap his hips up, his cock sliding through your hand rapidly now. “Im gonna…”
The pathetic whispered whimper he lets out when you slow down almost makes you come on the spot. “No… please…” His voice is breaking, he’s trying so hard to stay quiet, even lifting his fist to bite down on as his head falls back on the couch, eyes squeezed shut. “Let me come…”
“I will handsome. Just not yet, okay?” You whisper. “You gonna be good and wait for me?”
His entire body is shaking with need now even as he nods his head desperately because at this point he would do anything for you. Completely under your control and wanting it no other way. “Yes… yes… I’ll wait… just please.” He’s practically sobbing now, his cock throbbing in your hand and you gently squeeze his balls.
“Good boy.” You cooed and he melts at the praise. You had always known that breaks him every time. He knows what you’re doing. Getting him back for last time you’d had sex when he had controlled everything. You’d loved every second but that didn’t mean you didn’t want some payback. And he was taking it beautifully.
“Please… I’ll be good…” It comes out as a broken whisper as you never stop moving your hands, just slower.
“So good…” You kiss him deeply. “You’re always so good to me.” His lips part kissing you back hungrily. “You’re doing so good.”
He’s so close now you can tell and you speed back you. His mouth hangs open, letting out a noise so needy you can see he gets embarrassed.
“I love it when you make those noises for me.” You say reassuringly.
His eyes squeeze shut as he tries to hold back. “Please… let me come.”
“Are you gonna be quiet for me?” He doesn’t answer you, he’s too close, nodding his head frantically. “Use your words, handsome.” You say teasingly, exactly as he had done to you, as you slow your hand down.
His face contorts with frustration as more needy sounds leave him. The usual stoic, capable man everyone else see’s vanished and at your mercy. “No no no no no no…” He whimpers his hips stuttering. “I’ll be quiet.”
You speed up again and one of his hands finds your breasts agains, his grip almost on the verge of painful but it only makes you more turned on. “There’s my good boy.”
You whisper but barely finish the sentence before you feel him tense beside you, your hands never stopping. His cock pulses in your hand as he suppresses a strangled cry against your neck and his hot cum spills onto your hand.
“So good…” Your praise washes over him as he nuzzles weakly into skin. “You look so fucking hot right now.”
He’s spent. Head falling back looking wrecked. From what you can make out his eyes are glassy, chest heaving. He looks vulnerable, completely open for you, a version of him you hold so close to your heart. One you will always look after.
You smile down at him adoringly. You’re so turned on but you don’t care. He needed to be taken care of and you were more than willing to do it. “Stay there handsome. Don’t move.”
He whines softly as you move away from him, finding your way to the bathroom in the dark. Cleaning up you also grab one of your small towels and wet it. When you make your way back to him his eyes are closed and you smile softly before cleaning him up. There was no doubt that usually he would have showered. You’re not sure if he’s just too tired or letting himself surrender to your care, either way you’re glad he looks ready to sleep.
Emotional and physical exhaustion of the day taking over.
He’s practically purring as you clean him up. You shush him and kiss him gently. Once you’re done you pass him his underwear, which he sleepily pulls on as you discard the towel. You lay down in the corner of the couch and open your arms to him. “Mmm…” he murmurs.
“I know.” You say comfortingly as he settles against you, face nuzzling into your chest.
He mumbles a soft I love you against your skin and you murmur the same against his temple. His strong arm tightens around you and you’d have done anything to stay like that.
But the third and final thread wasn’t far away. And so the next morning when he kissed you again when Lena wasn’t looking you let yourself believe that this wasn’t playing house anymore. This was the dream. Everything you’d ever wanted with him.
How stupid you’d been.
He was beside himself when you got home, grocery bags filling your arms, holding everything him and Lena had asked for. You discard them on the couch, not caring when you see him bent over the kitchen counter, eyes red rimmed from crying.
“They took her.” His voice is steady.
“What?” You’re frozen as much as you want to comfort him.
“DCFS. They fucking took her! They took Lena!” He cries out.
You knew as soon as you’d saw him.
“I’m gonna get her back.” He says and you’re not sure if he’s convincing himself or you.
You just nod, not knowing what to say. Knowing it wasn’t that easy.
“Don’t worry.” He says, a worrying edge to his voice. One he gets when he looses grip on reality. He walks up to you and grabs your face, kissing you. It’s rushed and unfeeling and you almost want to wipe it off. “I’ll get her back.”
And then he’s gone and you’re left stood there.
Playtime over.
You look at the groceries on the sofa before picking the bags up and putting them away numbly. Because you knew. You knew it would never be the same again.
Lena was gone. The little girl you’d come to love was gone.
You’d stayed at Lena’s house as long as you could, hoping he would come back. He didn’t. He didn’t answer your calls either and you knew what he was doing. Blocking it all out, focusing on getting her back. You could only pray that that didn’t mean doing anything stupid.
When he strolls into your apartment two days later, its late at night and you’re in bed. He’s limping and holding his ribs.
“What the fuck.” You gasp.
“It’s nothing.” He brushes you off and you watch him, slack jawed as he grabs a towel and walks back out of the room.
“Like fuck it is. You disappear for two days. Deran sends me some cryptic message that you’re ‘okay’ but can’t get to your phone and you turn up like this?” You follow him into the bathroom and despite being annoyed you help him lift his shirt off.
“Lucy…” He says with a grimace as he pushes off his pants. “She kidnapped me.” He says it so blasé you almost think he’s joking as he casually gets into the shower.
You sigh heavily, pinching your nose. You don’t even know what to fucking say. You’d been a wreck since he walked out after telling you about Lena. As much as you understood how upset he was, you cared about her too. And him.
“Why?”
“Her brothers dead.” He says, his voice echoing from the cubicle. “Shoot out went bad.”
“Is this Smurf?” You ask, knowing beyond doubt it would be her doing.
He doesn’t reply. The silence stretched on as he washes. You have your answer. He gets out of the shower, towel wrapped around his hips just standing in front of you but he doesn’t look at you.
You can tell he’s holding back again and it makes you feel sick.
“You know I miss Lena too.” Your voice shakes and his shoulders drop, sadness finally breaking onto his face.
“I know.” Is all he reply’s. “And I told you I’m gonna get her back.” He walks out of the bathroom and you follow.
You always follow him.
“You can’t do anything stupid, Andrew promise me?”
He just gets some clean clothes out of his drawer he’s had at your place for as long as you can remember. Even while he was in prison you’d kept it stocked, re washed the clothes whenever they lost the smell of your detergent. Except for that one t shirt of his. That smelt like him for only the first year.
“I’m not. I know where she is now.” He still won’t look at you. He’s dressed again, but in shorts and you wonder if he’s going to leave.
“Fuck… Andrew you know that could hurt your chances at getting her back.” You say, softer, heart melting imagining how often he’s probably been sat on the street.
“I’m not going to get her back. Of course I’m not!” His voice breaks as though it’s the first time he’s really let himself hear it.
You swallow against the lump in your throat.
It was the truth. He was a convicted felon. Nobody was going to give Lena to him.
“I could.” You say in a quiet voice.
“What?” He asks turning around.
“I could get her back.” It’s your turn to not look at him. “I could adopt her.”
“Sweetheart…” He finally touches you, cradling your face in his hand. “There isn’t anyone that doesn’t know you’d be doing it for me.”
“No…” You say weakly because it’s true. It wound’t just be for him, you loved Lena. You missed her so much you ached. He was right of course. You were in all of Andrews records. Intertwined in ways you didn’t even realise.
“Fuck…” He steps away like you’ve burned him. “I fuck everything up!” You sit on the bed tiredly.
“No you don’t, Andrew.” But as he looks at you, drained and heartbroken it only spurs on his breakdown. You stand back up wanting so bad to help him. He steps away, his face ashamed.
“Andrew…” It’s a plea. For him to come back. To see you. See you are right here. You don’t hate him or blame him. Everything he is telling himself. “Come on, handsome.” His head dips at the sound and you turn off the light, climbing into bed. Nothing good would come of this.
You’re both tired.
“We’ll just sleep, okay.” You soothe.
He does a small nod, his mouth dipping down at the edges the way it does when he’s trying not to cry. He gets into bed and pulls you to him until you’re tucked into his side completely.
You don’t know how long you both lie there for but the heat of him, his soft breaths eventually lull you to sleep.
He’s gone in the morning.
Andrew:
Meet me at Baz’s.
30 minutes.
The message takes you by surprise and honestly after the week you’d had you dread to think what it could be so you leave straight away.
They’re already there when you walk in and Andrew looks the calmest you’ve seen him in a while. When Lena walks out of her bedroom you realise why.
She greets you happily, running up to you and you lift her into your arms.
“Lena!” You almost cry. Andrew is looking over at you with a smile, two duffle bags on the counter. “What’s going on?” You ask suspiciously.
“Lena go pack.” Andrew tells her.
“I don’t want to.” Lena says and your heart sinks. What had he done?
He gestures for you to come closer to him and you do, stroking Lena’s head as you walk past her. When you reach him he pulls you in so he can whisper to you. “Smurfs adopting her.”
You pull back to see he’s serious.
“Can’t let that happen.”
Smiling reassuringly over at Lena you grab onto his arm softly. “I agree… but what are you doing?”
“We’re running away.” Lena pipes up. “I don’t want to run away.”
“We’re not. We’re just… we’re just taking a trip.” He responds like he’s not talking about kidnap. Again. “Lena we need an adult moment here can you just go and grab some clothes please.”
She sighs but walks into her room.
“I’ve got everything.” He tells you as he pulls out three passports, a couple of licenses and birth certificates. “Had it a while… just in case.”
“Andrew!” You gasp. “What the fuck!”
He looks worried, like he wasn’t expecting that reaction from you.
“We can be a family.” He says with a look in his eyes that haunts you now. Hope. “I love you.” He reaches up to play with your hair. “I can’t live without you.”
Tears fill your eyes, overcome with emotion. Overcome by the fact that he’s finally saying everything you’ve ever wanted to hear but it’s in such a fucked up context. It felt more like necessity than reality and it broke something in you.
How badly you wanted this. To hear those words from him. To have a family with him. But not like this.
Looking back you wish you’d said yes. You could have been in Mexico by now… or somewhere further. You’d never gotten the chance to ask him. You knew he loved you. Even knew he couldn’t live without you but this wasn’t the way it was supposed to happen.
The decision was taken out of your hands when Lena spoke again, having left her bedroom without either of you noticing.
“Where would we live?”
“Someplace great.” He says, looking at you questioningly. Like you’ve broken his trust somehow.
It was times like this when you thought you saw why other people thought he was crazy. When kidnapping a child and living the rest of your life with fake aliases was completely normal to him.
“Where would I go to school?”
You wipe the tears that fell from your cheeks as you turn to face the little girl you had grown to love, who you wanted a life with, with all your heart.
“We’ll figure it out when we get there.” He says as he zips up a duffle.
“Me and Bella had bunk beds and a trampoline.” Lena recalled with a happiness in her voice that had you fighting away more tears.
“Bella?” Andrew asked. Realisation hit him and you knew exactly what he was thinking as he turned to look at you. “The foster family.” You wipe away more tears as you see him soften. See him realise. He turns back to Lena. “You liked them, huh?”
“We were gonna be sisters.”
“You have a family. We’re your family.” He says.
“But I make you sad.” You’d always known Lena was astute but that one observation made you realise she saw way more than she ever made you aware of.
“What are you talking about? I’m not sad.” He says but the pause before he said it showed it hit him.
“You’re always sad.”
He sighs and looks at you. He was still torn you could tell, even though he knew what the right thing to do was. What he had to do. What you both had to do despite not wanting to.
Let her go. Let her have a chance at a normal life.
“Lena…” You say as you walk over to her and kneel down in front of her. “Did you ever hear about how me and Uncle Pope met?”
She shakes her head.
“When Uncle Pope was just a little older than you Smurf got sick.” You obviously wasn’t going to tell her the real reason Andrew had ended up with your family. “And he needed someone to take care of him for a while. That just so happened to be my parents. We took real good care of you, didn’t we Uncle Pope?” You look back at him and him nods rubbing his damp eyes with his thumb and forefinger.
“The best.” His voice even rougher than usual.
You remember the way he watched your parents read you bedtime stories, like it was strange. The way they wouldn’t shout or hit. Just calmly explain to him why what he did was wrong. The way he would tense up when your Mom innocently touched his shoulder and the way he leaned in to it by the time he left. The way any time a man came in the house he would glare at them, put himself between you and any stranger because in his house he wasn’t guaranteed safety the way he was at yours.
“What happened when Grandma Smurf was better?” Lena asked.
“Then he went home. And we were all real sad to see him go. But you know how Uncle Pope is. He snuck round all the time because he loved it with us. And we were best friends.”
“I love Bella.” She says, sad eyes looking up at her Uncle and as you turn you see him nodding.
He knew what he needs to do. No matter how much it hurt you both it was best for Lena if she went back to her foster family. Out of Smurfs grasp.
Upon deliberation you’d always come back to the same two questions when looking back on that moment. What would Andrew be like now if he’s stayed with your family? Was the damage already too deep or could he have had a chance at a normal life. The life he deserved.
And what would life look like if you’d just gone with him.
Saying goodbye to Lena was hard but you promised to visit her. And you would. You had no choice, she was entwined in your life now.
She couldn’t be another loose thread.
You would’t allow it.
That night you woke up to Andrew sat in his chair. Watching you sleep.
“Andrew? Are you okay?” You ask sleepily as you sit up and turn on the lamp beside your bed.
“I can’t do this anymore.”
You assume he’s taking about Smurf or the jobs or just life in general because in no lifetime could you have imagined what he said next.
“I’ve been fooling myself. Lena’s better off without me and so are you.” His voice sounds void of all emotion until he pauses, takes a deep breath like he’s steeling himself for something. “I’m sorry but I can’t see you anymore.”
“What?” You shake your head and go to get out of bed.
“Don’t.” He says it so harshly you can’t help the tears that fill your eyes. You feel like all you ever do anymore is cry. “This should have happened a long time ago. I can’t give you what you deserve.”
All the progress you’d made came crashing down. Smurf being back was no coincidence. She’d gotten in his head somehow, poisoned it the way only his mother could.
“Andrew, what’s she said?”
“I’ve been selfish. You should have a normal life by now. A husband… someone who isn’t… bad.” He swallows. “Kids…”
“You’re not bad, Andrew please talk to me. Think about what you’re saying. Just try to remember everything we’ve talked about. For me.” You can’t help it, you get off the bed to walk over to him but he stands and darts to the other side of the room, like touching you would be painful.
“Still use the card… I’ve paid another six months on this place and ill check with the landlord if you’re extending your contract.” He’s talking like it’s just a business transaction.
“No!” You shout angry now, tears streaming down your face, pooling on your collarbone. “Please don’t do this, Andrew.”
“It’s for the best.” His voice is rough, like the words are burning on the way out.
“Look at me Andrew!” You beg, your voice shaking with sadness and anger.
He doesn’t look at you. Just walks out of the room. You follow him to see him looking at the picture of you both above the side table as he removes your apartment key and leaves it on the side table. You know he’ll have another one somewhere.
You know this isn’t real.
Can’t be real.
“Please don’t do this.” You cry and you see him grip the side table so hard it creaks. “Andrew whatever it is. We can fix it. Okay.”
It's so fast you don't see it coming when he picks up the side table and throws it at your front door with a roar of anger and pain that makes you sob harder.
He's breathing hard, chest heaving, seething with rage. Then he just goes to leave.
When the doors open you call his name weakly one more time and he waits.
“I need you to know that I’m not mad at you okay.” You see his shoulders fall and bend forward like he’s collapsing, holding himself up with the door and for a second you think he’s going to turn around and grab you. Tell you he’s sorry and kiss the tears away.
But he doesn’t. The door clicks shut.
You fall to your knees in the place. You don’t remember how long you stayed there.
But you hadn’t left the apartment for three days now. Splinters of wood still littering your hallway. Not because you’re lazy but because it’s something of him. Even if it is his anger and pain. You couldn't make it make sense. You couldn't accept it.
You pace, you cry, you leave unanswered messages until you just stop.
You keep pulling at every thread thinking that if you found the right one, you could stitch everything back together.
But some things don't come apart cleanly.
And some things, once unraveled, don't want to be fixed at all.
oneshot - soft dom josh tries his best to talk you through it, but he can't stop whimpering and moaning. (1.9k words)
pairing - josh futturman (future man) + gn!reader
tags: porn with no plot, doggystyle, soft!dom josh, pre-established relationship, gender neutral reader, penetration, kissing, no use of y/n, dirty talk, pre dick swap ig lmao, whimpering and whining, praising, creampie, petnames.
.・。.・゜✭・. .・。.・゜✭・. .・。.・゜✭・.
he slips inside of you and lets out something between a moan and a whine, his firm grip on your hips tightening. you're splayed out on his bed, ass up, face down in his blue sheets. you watch eagerly over your shoulder as he pushes inside of you with a slow thrust. his eyes are on you, mouth forming an 'o' shape as he tries to steady his breathing.
your brows knit together, feeling him ease in, letting a moan slip of your own as he fills you so perfectly. "fuck, baby. . ." you whisper through another moan, trying not to clench around him - you know he won't last if you do.
josh mutters something under his breath, a small pep talk to himself as he loses himself in the feeling of you so tightly wrapped around him. "you feel s-so good. . ."
he eases out, and then back in, slow thrusts that have your back arching in the hopes of him going impossibly deeper inside of you. josh continues his sluggish pace, trailing a hand from your hip to the small of your back, pressing his palm down on your warm skin.
"t. . . takin' it s. . . so wel- fuuuuck. . ." josh melts against you. with each thrust he loses himself deeper into you, his throbbing cock begging for release. . . begging for more of you. he's so hard he swears it almost hurts.
and you smirk, knowing he can't even form complete sentences because of how good you're making him feel. "what was that, babe?" you chirp.
he gasps, furrowing his brow with his eyes tightly closed, "you're such- such a good- oh fuck. . ." swallowing thickly, he tries again, "you're- mhfff..." a whimper cuts him off, that sweet, sweet whimper of his. you could listen to it all day - the way it drips from his lips like honey.
you know he's trying to talk you through it, desperate to praise you and lavish you with sweet words but he just. . . can't. something about the way you feel, the intoxicating feeling of being inside of you, his cock pumping in and out at a lazy pace, he's falling apart already. just as he always does.
"keep talkin' to me, baby. . ." you whisper encouragingly, propping yourself up on your elbows as you keep your eyes on him, completely mesmerised by the intricate shift in his facial expression with every thrust.
he nods, josh would do anything you asked, anything. "mhm, you. . . you like that?" he hums, trying his absolute best. opening his eyes, he notices you looking back at him and another whimper falls from his lips as he locks eyes with you.
slowly, you nod - and then he picks up the pace in response, making you flinch a little at the sudden increase of pleasure. but you keep your gaze locked on his, silently encouraging him.
"you take me so. . . so well. my cock- hhhhf. . . fits perfectly inside of you," he whines, the words coming out before he even has a chance to think about what he's saying. both of his hands return to your hips, "oh fuck, j. . . just like that. . ." josh's eyes trail down to watch himself disappear inside of you.
you moan, eyes closing over as he attempts to form sentences. it's so hot, so cute, how he completely falls apart for you as soon as he slips inside your tight hole. he wants to make sure you feel good, that you feel taken care of, even if he can't even form one complete sentence.
"that's it. . . t-takin' my cock like a good- mhhhhf!" josh groans, head tilting back as his mouth falls open. he huffs into the air, his grasp on your hips growing tighter as his fingers dig into your flesh, "holy fuck!" he cries out.
biting your lip, you tense up, holding back any praises of your own - you want to make him feel like he's the one in charge, the one guiding this, even if you both secretly know that he's a mess at being in control most of the time. the praising can come later when he's pumped you full of his cum and is falling asleep on your chest.
you feel it pooling in your belly, that familiar urge, the overwhelming pleasure threatening to wash over you. the way josh's face is trembling, you can tell he's close too.
he feels almost feverish, his temperature rising as his dick glides in and out of you faster and harder. he doesn't just want you, he needs you, and he feels this every time you fuck. he can't think straight, mind focused on the sensation of his dick throbbing against your tight walls. small praises tumble from his lips, calling you pretty pet names as thoughts of you cumming around him clouds his entire being.
the intensity of his thrusts increases, causing his bedside table to shake, and his collection of precious figurines threatens to topple to the ground. but he doesn't care. he's too lost in you to care. how can he care when you're taking him so good like that, making all those sweet noises and looking over your shoulder at him the way you are?
"y. . .you gonna cum for me?" he gasps suddenly, attempting to sound dominant, and failing, his voice high-pitched and shaky.
but fuck, it still gets you. it's hotter that he's trying and failing. that boy is a loser, and that's what makes you want him so fucking badly.
"yes. . ." you groan with a nod, gripping his sheets as he pushes you forward with every thrust, his bed creaking under the pressure.
josh grins a little, mouth half open as he struggles to keep his breathing steady. he's feeling brave. hesitating for a few moments, he finally speaks, "say please."
your eyes snap open, looking up at him over your shoulder in surprise. his words cause you to clench around him, fluttering at his attempt at a commanding tone.
shit, that was kind of hot.
". . .what?" you blurt out.
he swallows hard, "i-i said, say please. . . and. . . i'll let you cum," josh bites his lip. it's too much. he can't stay upright anymore. his body hunches over yours, wrapping an arm around your stomach as he pistons into you with renewed vigour, one hand planted onto the bed for support.
"holy shit, josh," you whisper, praising him with your tone of voice alone, "please. . ."
"oh fuck. . ." he whispers into your ear, feeling his dick twitch at your pleading. he plants small kisses behind your ear, sloppily. "that's it, you're so. . . hhhf- so good for me. . . takin' my dick so well. . ."
his words combined with the way he's quickly thrusting into you has you close, so fucking close. he's pressing down against you, hardly able to keep himself upright as he fights back his own release. at this angle, he's sliding deeper, going harder.
"you're so. . ah, tight," josh pants, breath ragged in your ear, "keep. . . keep moaning for me."
and you do, body lowering until you're flush against his sheets, cries dripping from your lips over and over. "baby, i-"
"shhh, i know," josh coos, breath hitching, "just c- ah. . . fuck. just cum for me. . ." his tongue hangs from his mouth in concentration, tilting his head down to suck and lick against your neck messily.
the combined sensation of his wet tongue lapping desperately against your neck and fucking you like it's the last time he'll ever see you has you seeing stars. you claw at the sheets, gripping them into bundles in your fists, knuckles turning white. you can't hold on much longer, and neither can he.
you try to hold back, you really do, but suddenly he's whispering into your ear again.
"gonna take- hhhmmf. . . gonna take my cum baby? nice and deep?"
holy fuck it sends you spiralling over the edge, taking him by surprise. you're moaning and writhing, hips rolling backwards in an unsteady rhythm in an attempt to meet his faltering thrusts as you spasm around his hard cock.
his moans pick up, higher pitched, more a whimper than a moan, practically crying into your neck as he feels you clench around him over and over. he tries to speak, but more pathetic little noises roll off his tongue instead, sending you further into your orgasm.
"you- f. . . feel so fucking-. . . ah, ah, fuck!"
and you feel him - his dick twitching inside of you, cum coating your insides as he continues to thrust in a fading rhythm, desperate to fill you, to give you every last drop. you can hardly take it, the sensation bringing your pleasure to a whole new level as you squirm.
those pretty little noises he's making against your neck, they're heavenly. he always sounds so pretty when he cums, a symphony of whimpers and pleadings and gasps. it makes you want to make him cum over. . . and over. . . and over. . .
as his thrusts eventually begin to stall to a halt, he peppers sloppy wet kisses along your neck and shoulders, a silent thank you. his breath comes out in puffs against your skin, pressing his forehead to your back as he reluctantly pulls himself out of you with a hiss, eliciting a short whine from you.
josh sits up, trailing fingers through his now damp hair, his messy curls falling gently onto his forehead. he admires you below him, shoulders rising and falling with each breath you take. he traces his fingers along your spine, a soft, loving smile falling upon his lips.
you open your eyes, finding his as you turn over onto your back, placing your hands on his plush thighs on top of you. "well . . ." you begin to say.
"did i do good?" he perks up, smiling as he leans down, inches from your lips. his eyes sparkle, seeking praise as his eyes dance across your features.
you can't help but let a soft chuckle escape you, "so good, better than good."
he mirrors your chuckle, inching forward to capture your lips in a deep kiss as he giggles. you wrap your arms around him, relishing the way he desperately steals the kiss from you after you cum, every time you have sex.
"so. . ." he mumbles in between kisses, a smirk evident in his voice, "the. . . best?"
if your eyes were open, he'd see you roll them, "yes," you smirk, "the best."
josh basks in silent victory and you can feel the way his smirk widens through the kiss.
pulling back, you speak up, "but if you ever make me say 'please' to cum again, i'll kill you," you smirk, a joking tone.
his eyes lock with yours, a cheeky grin on his lips. "as if you didn't love it. . ."
"fuck you," you grin back.
josh can't help but laugh, raising an eyebrow, ". . . again?"
you pause, "this time, i'm on top."
his eyes widen, practically twinkling. he nods so hard and so fast that you worry he might hurt his neck. "yes." josh replies quickly, "please."
fuck, how was he so fucking cute? even better too, that he looks even cuter when you fuck his brains out while on top.
"roll over then." you command.
he salutes you and rolls over onto his back obediently, "aye-aye captain."
Where klaus is fully clothed and Reader in wearing an oversized sweater and panties & fell asleep straddling klaus & is hugging him tightly, they have a sex dream & basically dry humps him until they both finish? Klaus is barely restraining himself?
Sleepy Seduction
Summary: Klaus is trying to watch a movie Y/N’s begged him to watch but she’s already asleep and even when unconscious she remains the most wanton creature he knows. The loveliest too.
Y/N had fallen asleep well over an hour ago, arms still draped round him as her face pressed to his shoulder.
Klaus had his eyes set on the movie she'd been begging him to watch for months. Even if she wasn't awake to see it, he knew how much it mean to her. He pressed a gentle kiss to her head, his own eyes a little heavy.
His body was ready to give into sleep but it seemed her mind was still running for him.
Klaus thought she was just shifting a little, snuggling closer.
But that familiar little whimper left her that made his body wake in an instant.
"Sweetheart..." He drawled, looking down at her in an attempt to see if she was secretly conscious but found no sign. Klaus grunted quietly in frustration and leaned his head back against the couch pillows, holding her close so she wouldn't slip in her sleep.
Her body seemed to be fixed to his anyways, like a magnet.
Klaus pet her hair lovingly and closed his eyes for a second at the little moan that slipped past her lips, her breaths heavy against his shoulder.
"Christ..." He sighed and shifted, holding her up enough to tug his henley off before settling her back against his chest, letting her nuzzle into his bare skin.
Both hands caressed her back and hair, trying to soothe back into a deep enough sleep so she'd stop dreaming but it wasn't long before her hips were starting to rock gently against him.
A gruff sound left his mouth as he felt himself stiffen against her. The blood rushed south and his jaw locked tight in concentration.
"Y/N..." He muttered, squeezing her harm a little. "Wake up, love." His voice was almost pleading as he told himself to keep his hips still beneath her. A louder cry left her and he could feel the heat of her pussy leaking through her panties.
Klaus looked down at her, brows furrowed to restrain himself.
Why couldn't she have worn the sweatpants he bought her?
Now he could feel exactly how she swelled and pulsed on his cock.
"Y/N" He breathed, but his voice was too quiet to even attempt to wake her.
Another sound left him as she rutted a little quicker against him making his hand shoot down to rest of her ass, wanting nothing more than to guide her but knowing it was wrong.
"Sweetheart...c'mon." He tried, his teeth grinding as his cock twitched against her folds.
Her panties were so soaked he could feel every millimetre of her.
"Y/N." He spoke up, his throat a little croaked. "Wake up, love."
But her body remained pressed against him, head heavy against his chest as though he were a supporting pillow. And those hips kept rolling, sliding her pussy over him until those familiar sounds left her, bouncing off the walls and making his hips buck up against his will.
"Klaus..." She whined, voice but a slur of sleep.
"Yeah..." He breathed, kissing the side of her head with a groan. "S'okay love." He mumbled as she clearly got closer to her limit.
"Mmh-" She moaned, "Klaus-" This time her voice was but a choke and he bit down on his tongue.
"Cum, love. Just cum for me." He nodded against her hair before lowing his lips to kiss her neck encouragingly.
His cock ached for her as she trembled against him, his sweatpants soon soaked and stained as she came all over them.
Carefully he slid his arms under her thighs and laid her down in the couch, his hand gently caressing her knee as he slipped his hand beneath his waistband.
"Love you..." He whispered as he wrapped his fingers round himself, stroking firmly and trying not to stare at her too much. It only took a few pets before he'd added to her mess, a heavy sigh leaving him as he fixed his state of a joggers.
"I've got you." Klaus murmured, lifting her up and carrying her to his room. She groaned faintly, twisting in his hold and he huffed a laugh.
"Now you decide to stir awake hm?" He smiled with a head shake as he settled her down, both sleepy eyes looking back at him confused.
"Klaus..." She mumbled tiredly.
"Shh.." He hushed gently. "It's alright, love. You sleepy baby?" Klaus hummed softly, smiling when she nodded and dropped her head back down against her pillows.
He made sure to clean her up before pulling her close beneath the covers, a faint slither of excitement to tell her what she'd been up to in her sleep.
{Klaus Mikaelson x Stefan Salvatore x F!Reader}
Request {@xtwistedchaosx}: Sub!Klaus and Dom! Vampire F Reader with Voyeur!Stefan (Rippah! Stefan maybe?) Kinks: bondage, wax play, cumplay/squirting, orgasm denial, mentions of being a "Good Boy", reader masterbates on top of Klaus just out of reach for him to do anything, facesitting, cowgirl, Stefan hearing noise upstairs only to watch the fun happening through the door, Reader and Klaus do know and consent to his voyeurism
♡♡ when I saw this request I cackled, now this is a stunnnning idea. Your greed is unmatched.... but this isn't what you are getting the award for (iykyk...) ♡♡
1.9k words - Kinks: dom!reader, sub!klaus, bondage, wax play, cumplay/squirting, orgasm denial, masturbation, voyeurism, blood drinking && a tiiny tiny bit of repressed bisexuality...
"Stay still," you whispered, your voice velvet-soft.
Klaus froze where he knelt at the foot of the bed, wrists bound behind him. His head tilted up, curls wild, eyes bright with that restless defiance that always melted beneath your touch.
"Good boy," you murmured. The praise landed like a spell, his shoulders loosened, breath catching, the faintest tremor running through him. You smiled because he hated how easily he obeyed, how much he needed to.
"I'll give you what you want, darling," you said, "but you’ll wait for it."
A growl built in his throat, but you raised an eyebrow. The warning alone was enough. He stilled, swallowing the sound. Your smile turned approving, and the knot in his stomach tightened.
You ran a hand down his bare chest, your nails leaving faint red lines. He arched into the touch.
"What's wrong?" you asked, teasing. "I thought you liked pain."
You stepped away to light a long red candle, the flame casting honeyed light across his skin. Shadows danced over the walls as you turned your body just enough to glance toward the cracked door.
A faint shift of light. You knew instantly who it was. Stefan’s silhouette. Motionless, listening. Watching.
Earlier that day, the three of you had devoured an entire football team, and then a few of its cheerleaders, and now Stefan had woken from the blood haze to hear you and Klaus playing upstairs, alone.
He knew you'd heard his approach, knew you were waiting. But still, he stayed out of sight, needing to see, to listen, to watch.
Klaus's eyes darkened as he caught the direction of your gaze, a hint of a smirk curling his lips.
You returned to him, wax dripping from the candle between your fingers, a slow, crimson threat. He watched it sway, swallowed hard. You let one drop fall, then another.
The hiss that escaped him turned to a low, guttural sound of pleasure.
"Is this what you need, my love?" you purred, pouring a ribbon of red over his chest, all slow and deliberate. The wax traced the hard lines of his body, down his stomach, across the V of his hips. His muscles jumped beneath it, his breath rough and uneven.
He never begged, not with words. But every shudder, every quiet groan, said please.
Somewhere beyond the door, a breath hitched. You smiled, slow and knowing, letting the sound feed the moment.
You set the candle aside, gently running your fingers through his hair.
"Do you like it when he watches?" you whispered.
Klaus's lips parted. "Don't," he said, a soft warning. But his voice caught.
You hummed, trailing the tip of a fingernail over his lower lip and then up over the dark veins that appeared under his eyes, the threat of fangs. You felt the heat of him, the hunger. He always craved your blood most, when he was like this.
You ran your hands through his curls, pulling just enough to draw a rough, helpless sound from him.
"Up," you said.
He obeyed, letting you pull him to his knees, then further, his arms straining behind his back as you pushed him onto the bed, wrists twisting against the rope.
"No touching," you said, climbing onto the bed with him, your thighs on either side of his hips.
You stripped, unhurried, reveling in the way both pairs of eyes devoured every inch of you. First came your dress, the fabric sliding across your skin. Then the bra, leaving just your panties.
You slipped one hand beneath them, eyes falling shut as you worked your clit. You arched into your own touch, a quiet gasp escaping you.
"You are a vision," Klaus said, a groan building in his voice. "I could spend an eternity worshipping every part of you."
You laughed softly. "Careful, or I'll gag you."
He shuddered. "And here I was hoping for a kiss."
Your smile deepened, and you leaned forward, taking his mouth with yours. He moaned into the kiss, his hips jerking up in a silent plea.
You broke away, sitting up and grinding against him, still teasing yourself, your free hand digging deep enough to leave marks down his chest.
You felt him beneath you, hard and hot and straining. His muscles bunched, a frustrated sound slipping out.
You stopped moving, leaning back again and smirking. He growled, but didn't break the rules, his chest rising and falling in uneven breaths.
"Stefan? Can you bring me the candle, please?" you called.
There was a pause, then the door creaked open, and Stefan stood framed in the doorway. His face was flushed, his pupils blown wide, blood still on his lips from the evening's meal. He met your gaze first, and then Klaus's, his mouth curving in a dangerous smile.
"Of course," he said.
He took the candle, bringing it to the nightstand and then settling beside you, close enough that the warmth of him spread through the air, his presence intoxicating.
You took the candle, the wax still hot, letting it drip across Klaus' stomach. He bucked up against you, the sound torn from him raw, needy.
"Thank you Stef," you said, pulling him in for a kiss, tasting the blood on his lips.
The sound Klaus made was all possessive hunger, and glared at Stefan, his teeth flashing. Stefan chuckled as you pulled away, eyes heavy-lidded.
"Go sit," you said, nodding toward the chair in the corner.
He obeyed, the faintest trace of a smirk on his lips. Klaus' eyes darkened, and his breath came fast and harsh as he watched Stefan settle back and spread his legs, a bulge in his jeans.
"Eyes on me," you ordered, and Klaus' gaze snapped to yours.
"That's a good boy," you murmured, moving up his body. You held his chin, keeping him in place as you hovered over his mouth. "Now," you said, "make me come."
You sank down, letting him taste you. His tongue flicked out, then he began licking long, slow strokes. Your eyes fluttered shut, and you moved against him, riding his mouth.
The sound of a zipper, and the quiet slide of fabric pulled you back. Your eyes snapped open, meeting Stefan's. He'd unbuttoned his jeans and slid a hand inside.
"Do you like watching Stef? Does it make you feel good?"
"Yes," he rasped.
"Are you hard?"
His jaw clenched, a quiet, breathy sound escaping. He nodded.
"Then take yourself out, show us," you said.
He shifted, pulling his cock free, you smiled, biting your lip, grinding harder against Klaus.
"That's it Stef, slow strokes," you ordered, your breath coming fast.
Stefan did as you asked, the sound of his hand working himself turning the air thick and heady.
Klaus moaned, the vibration sending sparks through your body. You moved faster, tugging roughly on his hair. The heat in your belly built and built, every muscle tensing, and then finally, bliss.
You came hard, a moan breaking loose, your body trembling. Klaus didn't stop, drinking you in, lapping up every drop.
You rode it out, then pulled away, breathless, smiling.
"Such an obedient wolf," you said, running your hand through his hair.
He grinned, a feral thing. "My pleasure, love."
"I think you deserve a reward, don't you think so Stef?" you asked.
"Yes," he breathed, his voice a little strangled.
You watched Stefan, his body tense, muscles corded, the veins of his forearms standing out.
"Oh, you're a good boy too, aren't you?" you murmured, reaching between Klaus' legs and wrapping your fingers around his cock. "Do you want to watch me ride him?"
Stefan nodded, too far gone to speak.
You looked down at Klaus, your free hand brushing his cheek, then wrapping around his throat.
"Would you like that? To be buried inside me while he watches?"
"Yes, love, yes." The words slipped out before he could stop them.
You grinned.
"Say please."
"Please."
"Good boy."
You shifted, moving your panties to the side and lowering yourself onto him. A low, helpless sound escaped him.
You rocked against him, building a slow, steady rhythm, his cock hot and thick inside you. You ran your hands down his chest, over his stomach, feeling the flex of his muscles.
"Stefan," you said, not looking away from Klaus, "would you like to come over here? Do you want to watch up close?"
A low, wrecked sound escaped him.
"Come join us," you moaned, glancing over at him.
Klaus' gaze cut to Stefan's, the two staring at each other. You could feel the tension crackling between them, and then Stefan was on the bed, hovering over Klaus.
"Do it," you whispered. "I know you want to."
You knew both of them too well. The tension was too much, the desire too sharp.
Stefan's lips met Klaus', the kiss hard, hungry, the sounds they made muffled by each other.
You rode Klaus, faster, deeper, your fingers digging into his hips, drawing blood. Stefan's hand slid over Klaus' chest, his nails scratching the same path yours had taken.
Klaus broke away from the kiss, a broken sound escaping him, his eyes fluttering shut, his hips bucking. You reached for Stefan, grabbing him by the hair and pulling him in for a rough kiss, biting his lip hard enough to draw blood.
You took Stefan's cock in your hand, stroking him slowly, matching the pace of your thrusts.
"Do you want to come, baby?"
"Yes," Stefan managed, voice strained.
"Do you want to come on me? In my mouth? Or do you want to lick it off Klaus' chest? What does my good boy want?"
"Fuck, Y/N."
"Tell me."
"All of it," he breathed, and a low, rough laugh escaped Klaus.
"So greedy," you said, smirking. "But I get to decide, right Stef?"
"Yes," he answered, his tone almost desperate.
"Then come for me," you ordered, your voice cracking as your own orgasm began to build.
Stefan obeyed, meeting Klaus' gaze. You stroked him, the rhythm erratic. And then Stefan came, his entire body going taut, a moan escaping him, his come spilling over your hand and landing hot and thick on Klaus' chest.
Klaus followed soon after, his body arching, the sound of your names falling from his lips. You laughed, a wild, triumphant thing, and let go, letting the waves of pleasure take you, riding him until you couldn't take any more.
They both looked at you in awe, their faces flushed, chests rising and falling. You climbed off of Klaus, pushing Stefan down next to him and straddling his lap. You kissed him, soft and slow, then reached out, running your hand through the mess on Klaus' chest, gathering come and bringing it to Stefan's lips.
Stefan hesitated for just a moment, then his mouth was on your fingers, his tongue swirling around them. You smiled, before bringing your fingers back to your mouth, sucking them clean.
Klaus sat up, his hands moving over you, pulling you back against him.
"You are a goddess," he murmured, nuzzling your neck, his fangs scraping the delicate skin there.
You hummed, eyes closing, enjoying the feeling of being between the two of them. Of their fangs teasing your skin, their hands exploring your body.
"And you are both so so bloodthirsty," you said, grinning. "But so very obedient."
Klaus chuckled, the sound deep, rumbling, before he pierced the skin of your throat. Stefan couldn't stop staring, and you pulled him in, your hand on the back of his head, letting him taste your blood.
You could feel the magic building, the power of it, the three of you tied together, the bond growing stronger with each shared drink.
And the three of you lost yourselves to the haze once again.
Hey lovely, re-reading through your works on my commute. :) I got another idea to put on your ever-growing pile of requests: reader and Elijah are having an affair. Sex is amazing (duh!), but reader is bothered that Elijah never climaxes. He always stops right after she had her pleasure, insisting he prefers to stay in control the entire time and that he doesn't like to be overwhelmed by any kind of strong emotion. Naturally, reader sets out to change that.
Dissolve
18+ ---- {Masterlist} {Tag-List}
{Elijah Mikaelson x f!reader}
Elijah always puts your pleasure first, never letting himself fully let go. Until you push him over the edge and he falls completely.
♡♡ Ugh @originals23 what a delicious idea, he deserves to receive the same amount of affection he gives out~ ♡♡
4.6k words - Warnings: smuttt, lots of teasing, oral (m + f receiving), light restraint (wrist pinning), some steamy shower fun, riding, reader worshipping her man, Elijah struggling to be vulnerable, some vampire face, biting, blood-sharing, soft dom!Elijah vs. your mission to break him && the only Mozart song I know the name of...
Being in Elijah Mikaelson's bed was nothing new to you. You had been in it enough times to know exactly how soft his sheets were, the exact way his pillows smelled, the feeling of his skin under your fingertips, how his lips tasted when he kissed you.
It was all a routine. You would show up at his place after work. He would lead you to his room. The door would shut, and for the rest of the night he would make sure you thought only of him.
Tonight was no different. He invited you over. You had a few glasses of wine. Then his lips were on yours. He carried you to his bed. Clothes were shed. Your back pressed into the mattress as his mouth traveled down your neck. His kisses were always so slow. So methodical. Each one deliberate, with the intent to leave a mark.
You had noticed that this was his favorite part. The foreplay. Taking his time to drive you insane. He enjoyed watching your reactions. The way your eyes fluttered closed when he kissed your stomach, or the soft whimpers you would make when he ran his hands up your thighs.
And of course, he loved the sounds you made when his tongue explored your most intimate places. Your hand was in his hair, urging him closer, trying to get him deeper. He hummed against you, knowing it would send you over the edge.
"Elijah..."
Oh, how you said his name. No symphony could compare. He looked up at you with those eyes, so dark and hungry. They were telling you not to look away. He wanted to watch the pleasure roll through you, he wanted to feel the way your body tensed, he wanted to hear his name leave your lips over and over again as he made you come.
As your breathing calmed, he kissed his way back up your body, lingering on the places that made you whimper the most.
"You're so beautiful," he whispered in your ear, making your cheeks flush and your heart pound. He could do that to you. Turn you into a giddy teenager with just one compliment.
"Hush," you said softly, trying to hide your grin.
He didn't say anything else. He just pressed his lips to yours, his hand on your cheek, his thumb brushing against your skin. He was gentle and sweet, which was the perfect segway into the second round.
You tried to push him onto his back, to get him under you. He wouldn't budge. He knew what you wanted, but he would never let you do that to him.
"Let me," you said, running your hand down his chest.
He smiled and shook his head, his hands moving up your thighs, spreading them as he pulled you under him. His lips captured yours again, his hands pinning your wrists next to your head. You didn't fight it. Not tonight.
He needed to feel in control. That's how it had always been with him. Maybe he was scared of losing it. Of becoming too vulnerable. Maybe he just liked the thrill of power. Or maybe he was trying to protect himself. From what... you couldn't tell.
"Are you okay?"
You looked up at him, realizing you had been spacing out.
"Yes," you smiled, reaching up and pulling his lips back to yours.
He released your wrists and let his hands wander to your waist, his erection pressing against your stomach. He continued to kiss you, not wishing to rush things. But your hands were impatient. They moved to his shoulders, pulling him closer, trying to make him understand that you needed more.
Your impatience made him smile. You could feel his lips curling up against yours, he was enjoying your desperation.
"Do you want me?" He said, his words teasing.
He always had to ask, no matter how obvious the answer was. He liked hearing you say it. He liked the way your voice got needy and breathless.
"Yes," you said, kissing him again.
He eased inside you without breaking the kiss, and you let out a soft sigh. He enjoyed the feeling of you around him. The way you pulled him in. It was heaven.
You wrapped your legs around his waist, bringing him deeper, making him groan against your mouth. He started slow, making love to you the way he knew you liked. His forehead pressed to yours, his breath hot against your skin, his lips brushing yours between moans.
It wasn't enough for you, though. You wanted to see him lose control.
"Harder," you whispered, hoping that it would spark something.
You reached down, grabbing his ass, pulling him closer, trying to coax him into taking you harder. It worked. For a second. Then his pace slowed, his hands moved from your hair to your hips, holding them down.
He changed the angle, lifting your thighs to his sides. The new position made your toes curl, and you gripped the sheets.
"Fuck," you said, your eyes closing.
"Look at me."
The words were gentle, but commanding. He wanted you to look at him, and not stop looking.
You did as he asked. His gaze was intense, and it made your whole body flush. He smiled, leaning down and kissing you as one of his hands moved to where you were joined. His thumb circled your clit, and you whimpered.
You tried to break the kiss. He wouldn't let you. He held the back of your head, his mouth swallowing the moans he was eliciting.
His thumb was relentless, his hips moving faster, his thrusts growing sloppier. His breathing was getting ragged, and he groaned against your mouth.
You wrapped your arms around his neck, clinging to him, wanting to finally feel him come undone. He kissed you deeper, his tongue dancing with yours.
You were already sensitive from your first orgasm. Your nails digging into his skin as you tried to hold yourself together, but you were falling apart. You wanted to hold off, to have him go over the edge with you.
It was too late, he was too good at this, the coil inside you snapped. Your muscles tightened around him, a wave of pleasure washing over you, making you moan his name. He smiled against your lips continuing to move his hips, not wanting the moment to end.
But then he did what he always did.
Once you came down from your high, he pulled out, kissing you one more time before getting out of bed. You watched as he went to the bathroom, and heard him start the shower.
This is the part you hated. The part where you were left alone, feeling confused and empty. It happened every time. He would take you to his bed, fuck you senseless, then leave you with your thoughts. You didn't understand why he was the way he was.
You laid there, staring at the ceiling, wondering why he was so distant. Why he never let himself fall over the edge. Was it you? Did he not trust you?
You couldn't help but wonder, and you had been wondering for months. You knew Elijah was complicated, he had experienced many losses and he liked to keep his feelings private. Only letting certain people get close enough to see the real him.
You were in love with him. He was everything you wanted. And maybe he loved you too. But he wouldn't say it. He had never said it. Not even during the throes of passion. The words never passed his lips, but he showed you in everything else he did.
That's why you didn't understand him pulling away. Why didn't he allow himself to be vulnerable? You sat up and threw the covers off, heading into the bathroom, not caring about the cold air against your skin.
He was already in the shower. You opened the glass door, taking a moment to admire him. The muscles in his back were defined and tense. Water was streaming down his hair and the curve of his neck.
He turned, surprised to see you there. His eyes raked over your naked body, a small smirk playing on his lips.
"I thought you had fallen asleep,"
"I would rather be in here," you said, stepping into the steamy air.
"You should rest," he said, running his hands through your hair.
"I will, after I finish what we started."
"As I recall we did finish. Based on the sounds you were making and the way you were squeezing me," he teased, a hint of cockiness in his tone.
His hands went to your waist, slowly turning you around, switching places with you, letting you get warm under the water. You couldn't keep your hands to yourself. You pressed against his chest, kissing his lips. He smiled, his hand resting on the small of your back, keeping you close.
"I want to please you too," you said, trailing kisses down his neck.
"You do please me." He ran his hand up your back, his fingers tangling in your hair, gently tugging.
"You know what I mean."
He didn't respond. His grip on your hair tightened as he tilted your head back, forcing you to look at him.
"Not tonight," he said, his tone soft.
"Why not?"
"I just wanted to enjoy you. No distractions. Nothing to worry about, just make you feel good."
He sounded genuine. You could hear the sincerity in his voice. But it wasn't enough. You were tired of being the only one who got off.
"What if I want to give you that same feeling?"
He didn't have an answer. Instead he picked you up and pressed you into the cold tile, his lips claiming yours. He wasn't going to give you an answer, instead he was going to try and distract you.
And by the time he carried you back to his bed, it had worked.
But tomorrow would be a different story.
The next day you had a lot on your mind. Elijah was always distant, but he seemed especially detached today.
It didn't matter that you were having mind-blowing sex nearly every night. There was still a wall between you. Elijah was always trying to make you feel good, but he would never let you do the same for him.
And you were going to figure out why.
You were working late that night, and when your phone rang and you saw Elijah's name on the screen, a smile crossed your lips.
"Hello."
"Hello."
Just one word and his voice could make you blush. You missed him already, and you had seen him a few hours ago.
"Can I come over?"
"Of course," he said, his voice warm and gentle.
"Good. I'll be there soon."
When you arrived, his place was dark. There was music coming from somewhere upstairs. It was soft and melodic. A violin maybe.
"Elijah?"
"In here."
You followed his voice into his bedroom. He had a vinyl record playing, and he was sitting in an armchair in the corner of the room, a glass of bourbon in his hand.
He looked gorgeous. Dark blue button down, sleeves rolled up. His hair was perfect, and his gaze on you was so soft.
"Hello," he said, his eyes traveling up your body.
"Hi."
"How was your day?"
"Tiring. Yours?"
"Quite uneventful."
"Oh really?"
He smiled and put his glass down, standing and walking towards you. He put his hands on your waist, and pulled you closer.
"This is nice, what composer is this?" You asked, playing with the buttons on his shirt.
"Mozart."
"Oh, I know him," you chuckled, "What is the song called?"
"Lacrimosa,"
"Hmm. Pretty."
"Very."
He was looking at you with a small smile, his eyes filled with lust and adoration. His fingers hooked into your belt loops, and he led you to his bed, sitting down and pulling you into his lap.
"Have I ever told you how beautiful you are?"
"Only a hundred times."
"Well, it's worth saying a hundred more."
"Sweet talker," you said, leaning in and capturing his lips.
"You like it."
"Maybe a little," you grinned, kissing him again.
His hands moved down to squeeze your ass, making you giggle. You unbuttoned his shirt and tossed it aside, letting your eyes travel down his toned chest.
"I have a question," you said, running your hands up his torso.
"What is it?" He asked, kissing your neck.
"Why are you always so focused on my pleasure and not yours?"
"I get pleasure from pleasing you."
"You know what I'm asking."
"It's a complicated thing," he said, his voice muffled against your neck.
"I want to understand. Tell me," you said, running a hand through his hair, tugging gently, making him look at you.
He studied you for a moment. The expression on his face was hard to read. He was deep in thought, thinking of the right thing to say.
"I'm afraid," he said, his eyes locked on yours.
"Of what?" You asked, your voice soft, not wanting to push him too far.
"I... it's difficult." He swallowed hard, his gaze falling.
"You can tell me." You took his face in your hands, tilting his head up, forcing him to look at you again.
"If I lose control, if I let myself go, I'm worried I'll hurt you," he said, his tone quiet and almost ashamed. "I've hurt many, and I do not wish to do it again."
His dark eyes became glassy, and the words caught in his throat. You knew he had a lot of guilt over the things he had done, and the pain he had caused. You had known him long enough to know he carried the weight of the world on his shoulders.
"'lijah," you said softly, bringing his lips to yours, kissing him slow and tender.
You felt him relax under you. His hands moved from your waist to your thighs, gripping them tight.
"You won't hurt me," you whispered, your breath hot against his lips.
"You don't know that." His voice cracked as he spoke, and he rested his forehead on yours, his eyes closed.
"Trust yourself," you said, brushing a strand of hair out of his face.
"You have no idea the kind of monster I can become," his words were a whisper, his hands trembling.
"I know the man I'm in love with, and I trust him." You kissed him again, trying to show him that he could be vulnerable, that it was okay.
He didn't say anything. He kissed you back, his hands moving to the small of your back, holding you close. You could tell he needed a moment. This was a big step for him.
So you just kissed him.
His lips were gentle and slow. His hands moved from your back, to the hem of your shirt, and he lifted it over your head, tossing it aside.
He was quiet. So you took his face in your hands, pulling him closer, not wanting to break the kiss. You could feel the tension in his jaw, the slight shake in his hands, the way his breathing hitched.
"Hey," you said softly, leaning back.
He looked at you, his dark eyes searching yours. You could see the worry behind them. He was afraid. He was afraid that if he gave in, if he let himself lose control, something bad would happen.
You ran your thumb over his bottom lip, and his eyes fluttered shut. He looked so afraid. So unsure.
"Let me take care of you," you said, leaning in and placing a gentle kiss on his lips.
He let out a soft sigh and nodded, his eyes still closed. You smiled, trailing kisses down his jaw and to his neck, his skin warm and soft against your lips.
You slowly climbed off his lap, kneeling on the floor, between his legs. Your hands traveled up his thighs, and you unbuckled his belt, taking it off and tossing it to the side.
He opened his eyes, looking down at you. You bit your lip, smiling up at him as you unbuttoned his pants. His breathing hitched as you dragged the zipper down.
You pulled his pants off, leaving him only in his boxers, his erection straining against the fabric. You leaned in, kissing his length through the thin layer of material, and he groaned.
"Please," he said, his voice raspy.
You grinned, hooking your fingers into the waistband, and dragging them down, freeing his erection. You took him in your hand, stroking him slowly, enjoying the way his head fell back and his hips lifted.
"Fuck."
You loved it when he cursed. It was rare, and it always sent a rush through you. The way it rolled off his tongue, the way his accent thickened, and the way his voice dropped an octave.
"Does that feel good?"
"Yes," he hissed, his jaw clenched.
You moved your hand a little faster, loving the way his muscles tensed, and the way his breathing changed. He looked so sexy. His hair a mess, his skin flushed.
You lowered your head, taking him into your mouth, making him groan. You looked up at him through your lashes, and his eyes were shut, his head back. You could tell he was still trying to hold back, trying to keep control.
You swirled your tongue around his tip, making him curse again, slowly taking him deeper and deeper. You moaned and his eyes snapped open, looking down at you, watching his length disappear past your lovely lips.
His hands were in your hair, pushing it out of your face so he could watch. You felt his grip tighten as you relaxed your throat, taking all of him.
"Darling, if you keep doing that..."
You hummed, looking up at him. His eyes were blown wide, his breathing ragged. His hands were tugging and guiding, as his hips began to lift, thrusting up, pushing himself deeper. You tried not to gag, the sounds lewd, but the look on Elijah's face made it worth it.
He was falling apart, his self-control slipping away. Eyebrows arched, his muscles flexing, his lips parted in a silent moan. It was the most erotic thing you had ever seen.
You kept going, not wanting the moment to end. His grip on your hair was borderline painful. You moaned around his length, the vibration causing his hips to jerk.
"Shit," he growled, his hands tightening.
His jaw was clenched, his hips rocking, his eyes turned black, his vampire nature peeking through. Veins dancing under his eyes, his fangs extending, and a low growl rumbling through his chest.
You kept your eyes locked with his as you took him all the way, pressing your face into his pelvis, swallowing around him. The sound he made was feral and carnal, his hips lifting on their own, chasing the pleasure.
He was close, you could feel it. His movements were getting sloppier, his grip on your hair tighter, his breathing more labored. You hummed around him, sending a shockwave through his body.
"Y/n, please, fuck, I can't-"
His words came out broken and rushed. Then he came, a string of curses leaving his lips, his hands gripping your hair so tight you thought he might rip it out.
You kept your lips wrapped around him, swallowing everything he gave you, his cock pulsing against your tongue. He was panting, his chest heaving, his eyes squeezed shut, still holding on to your hair.
You hummed once more, making his hips twitch, his hands finally releasing your hair. You pulled away, letting his length slip from your mouth, before sitting back and looking up at him.
He was a mess. His hair was disheveled, his eyes were still pitch black, his fangs visible as his breathing evened out. He was a sight to behold. You had never seen him this unraveled.
You took advantage of his dazed state, and stood up, pulling your pants down and climbing into his lap, straddling him. He watched you through half-lidded eyes, his hands moving to your waist, gripping it tightly.
"I hope I didn't hurt you," he said, his voice hoarse.
"Not even a little, in fact, I rather enjoyed it," you grinned, running your hands through his hair.
"Really?"
"Uh-huh," you hummed, leaning in and capturing his lips.
He kissed you back, his hands traveling to your hips, holding them, his tongue sliding against yours. You could feel him starting to get hard again, and you pulled away, smirking.
You reached down and slowly took him in your hand, pumping him, loving the way his breathing changed. He was still sensitive and the sounds he was making were driving you wild.
"Elijah," you said, biting your lip.
"Hmm," he hummed, his eyes shut, his hands on your waist, squeezing, his hips lifting slightly.
"I love you," you whispered, leaning in and kissing him.
His hands moved from your waist, his thumbs rubbing circles on your hips. You could tell the words were affecting him. He didn't need to say it, you could tell by the look in his eyes, and the way his heart raced under your hands.
You lined yourself up and slowly sank onto him, taking him all the way. He groaned against your lips, his nails digging into your skin.
"I love you too," he whispered, his lips brushing yours.
His words made you melt. Hearing it for the first time, made your chest tighten. You kissed him again, a smile pulling at the corners of your mouth.
You started moving, your pace slow, taking your time. You wanted him to enjoy it. To make him feel everything. To remind him that he had nothing to worry about, and that giving himself completely was okay.
He broke the kiss, his head falling back, his eyes closing. You took the opportunity to quicken your pace, bouncing in his lap, making him groan.
You steadied yourself against his shoulders, rising from your knees on the bed to your feet, fully in control now. The new angle let you dictate the pace, lifting yourself almost completely off him before slamming back down, making him groan beneath you. Skin met skin in an intoxicating rhythm, the sound nearly as filthy as the way he gasped your name.
His eyes opened and he watched, his breathing uneven. The sight of you was incredible. You were flushed, your lips parted, breasts bouncing, and when he looked down at where your bodies met, it was almost enough to push him over the edge.
"Fuck," he rasped, his hips jerking.
Your thighs were beginning to burn, and you were getting tired, but you didn't stop, couldn't stop. The look on Elijah's face, plus the pressure building deep inside kept you going.
His hands guided you, his grip on your hips impossibly tight. His eyes were watching, his breathing growing ragged. You knew he was getting close, and by the way you felt your own orgasm beginning to crest, so were you.
"'lijah," you whimpered, moving as fast as your body allowed, chasing that sweet, sweet release.
He could hear it in the way your voice wavered, and the way your muscles tensed. And then he let himself feel it too, giving himself permission to let go, he held you tighter, your name falling from his lips.
The coil snapped, and pleasure washed over you. You moaned, and he pulled you close, his arms wrapping around your waist, holding you to him.
He suddenly flipped you over, laying you on your back, keeping your bodies connected. He thrusted hard, making your eyes roll back. You wrapped your legs around his waist, holding him, encouraging him.
He gripped your thighs tightly, his pace rough and sloppy, his head falling onto your shoulder. You could feel his fangs scraping against your neck, and you tilted your head, giving him better access.
He could sense it, the way your heart was racing, and the anticipation of what was about to happen.
He thrusted into you hard and then bit down, sinking his fangs into your neck. It was euphoric. His entire body was pressed against yours, his hands holding your thighs, his mouth sucking and drinking, his hips slamming into you. The combination of sensations was too much, and another orgasm crashed into you. You moaned his name, your nails dragging down his back, making him growl against your skin.
And just like that, he was falling.
His thrusts became erratic, his breath hot against your neck as he pressed himself deep inside, emptying himself. You could feel the heat, the way his body shook, the way he clung to you as if you were the only thing grounding him. For a moment, neither of you spoke, your bodies entwined, his weight warm and solid against you. He lingered there, and he slowly pulled his fangs out, reluctant to move, reluctant to let go of this fragile moment.
His grip on you loosened, his forehead resting against yours, his breath ghosting over your lips. His hand came up, brushing his fingers over the bite mark on your neck, his expression shifting.
"Are you alright?" he asked, his voice quiet, hesitant.
"Yes," you smiled, brushing his hair out of his face.
He frowned slightly, his thumb tracing over the bite. "I... didn't mean to lose myself like that."
You caught his hand, pressing a kiss to his palm. "I liked it," you whispered.
"Oh, did you?" he murmured, his lips curling into a soft smile.
"Uh-huh," you hummed, kissing him again, your lips moving slow and tender. "You are so fucking hot when you lose control."
His dimples showed, his dark eyes crinkling at the corners. You couldn't help but smile back. "I'll keep that in mind."
"Please do," you grinned, wrapping your arms around his neck, pulling him close.
He chuckled, burying his face in the crook of your shoulder, his lips finding the mark he left behind. He bit his own lip and you felt the sting fade, his blood healing the wound. His touch was reverent as if sealing something between you.
When he pulled away, there was something different in his expression. His dark eyes shone, his smile softer, more open. He had never looked at you quite like this before. Like he had let down some invisible barrier, like he had finally let himself dissolve into the feeling, let himself believe.
You leaned in, placing a gentle kiss on his lips. He sighed, his hands tangling in your hair, holding you there, savoring the closeness.
"Will you stay?" He asked, his voice barely a whisper.
"Of course."
"Good," he murmured, his hands settling on the small of your back, pulling you flush against him.
You hummed and kissed him again. Your lips moved slowly, enjoying the feel of his mouth against yours. The two of you slowly fell asleep, tangled together, warm and content.
And in the morning, he would still be there. He would kiss you awake, make you breakfast, and show you. Through touch, through words, through the way he looked at you. That you had changed something in him.
Because the night before had been different.
You had given him a piece of yourself, and in turn, he had given a piece of himself to you. And in a thousand years, that was a rarity.
In a thousand years, no one had ever loved him like this. And for the first time, he let himself believe he deserved it.
{Elijah Mikaelson x Damon Salvatore x F!Reader}
Request {@xtwistedchaosx}: KinkTober is back baby!!! Woooo! I'm too excited! Last year was amazing and this year I can only imagine the debauchery that will happen. Ok! For my request, I've been mulling over sending this request to you for a bit but since we're at kinktober what better time?
Damon and f!reader are in a relationship filled with all things bdsm (getting tied up, spanking, rope, toys you name it) (they're both switches). While they both have fun and a love for each other, they can't deny their attraction to Elijah. They both aren't sure whether the other would be ok with adding him into the mix but drop subtle hints to each and to Elijah. Elijah, in turn pines after them. He's the one who suggest they all have a threesome or it could be the other way around.
rope play (shibari to be exact), cum play, dom/sub/switch dynamics, spanking, oral, double penetration (2 ps in a v maybe?), damon getting railed by Elijah while giving reader oral, anilingus, and plenty of mutual pinning
♡♡ okay @xtwistedchaosx I want to apologize in advance for skimping on the mutual pining part... instead I just unleashed dom!elijah... anywaysssss U WON THE GREEDY AWARD ♡♡
4.2k words - Kinks: threesome, rope play, cumplay, dom/sub, spanking, oral, DP, anilingus, heavily bisexual.... Elijah is the bossss
When your boyfriend Damon surprised you with a trip to New Orleans, you never expected to end up where you did: kneeling at the side of a king-sized bed, watching your boyfriend drop to his knees before another man.
It all started with a knock on your hotel room door, followed by an invitation being pushed under it, a simple piece of cardstock embossed with the Mikaelson crest. Damon had laughed when he saw it.
"Of course," he said, turning it over in his hands, the dark ink stark against his pale fingers. "Leave it to a Mikaelson to be both dramatic and pretentious."
But you both knew what it meant. You were in Klaus's city, and even an invitation from Elijah was more of a summons than a request.
"I... Didn't know you were on good terms with the Mikaelsons," you murmured, watching him button his shirt as you both got ready.
"I'm not," he said, then a slow, wicked grin spread across his face. "But I'm always down for a free dinner, and... well, we might be able to have some fun with this."
You should have known then what he had planned. Should have seen the glint in his eye. But you were too caught up in the glamor and power of New Orleans to question him. Too in love with the thrill that always seemed to follow Damon Salvatore, a dangerous, intoxicating rush that made you feel more alive than anything else.
And so you found yourselves here, in the Mikaelson compound, on your knees no less. Damon beside you, and Elijah standing over the both of you, a god in a perfectly tailored suit.
Elijah's gaze swept over you, a slow, deliberate appraisal that made your skin prickle with heat. His eyes lingered on your exposed neck, the column of your throat, the swell of your breasts pushed up by the expensive silk of your dress. Then his gaze shifted to Damon, and the air grew thick with a tension you couldn't name.
"Damon, I have to say, you have always had impeccable taste in women," Elijah said, his voice a low, smooth baritone that vibrated through your bones.
"Men too," Damon added, with no small amount of pride.
"So I see," Elijah replied, his lips twitching into a faint, almost imperceptible smile.
In his hands he held a long red rope, the color dark against the crisp white of his shirt. He let it unspool, wrapping it around his knuckles, testing its strength.
"I confess, I am intrigued by your proposal," Elijah continued, his gaze fixed on Damon. "It is... not often I am presented with such an... interesting proposition. From you, of all people."
"Live a little, Elijah," Damon said, his voice a low purr. "You're thousands of years old. Don't you think it's time to try something new?"
Elijah didn't respond to that, not with words. Instead, he took a step closer, his hand reaching out to cup Damon's jaw, thumb stroking over the sharp line of it, tilting his head back. The gesture was surprisingly intimate, a show of dominance that had you shifting on your knees, pressing your thighs together.
"What makes you think I haven't?" Elijah's voice was barely a whisper now, a dangerous promise.
You watched, mesmerized, as Damon leaned into the touch, his eyes fluttering shut for a moment. The sight sent a jolt of pure, unadulterated want straight through you. The sight of your boyfriend, always so proud and defiant, happily submitting so willingly to another man. It was a side of him you'd never seen, a secret part of him he was choosing to share with you here, in the most unlikely of places.
And you wanted more.
Elijah released him, his gaze finding yours again. "And you, my dear," he said, his voice softer now, but no less commanding. "Are you as adventurous as your lover claims?"
You could only manage a weak nod, your mouth suddenly dry as you met his intense, unwavering stare.
"Good," he said, the single word a final, binding agreement.
He took a step back, removing his suit jacket and placing it on a chair with meticulous precision. Next came his cufflinks, small, onyx spheres he placed on the bedside table. Each movement was deliberate, economical, a masterclass in controlled grace. He was preparing himself, a predator shedding his formal skin to reveal the raw power beneath.
When he turned back to you, his sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, exposing the strong lines of his forearms. He held out a hand to you.
"Come here," he said.
You obeyed without question, your movements feeling clumsy and slow as you got to your feet and crossed the short distance to him. His hand was warm as it closed around yours, his grip firm. He pulled you closer, until you were flush against him, his other hand coming to rest on the small of your back.
He hummed, leaning down to press his lips against the shell of your ear, his breath warm against your skin. "Tell me, little love, has Damon ever tied you up?"
A shiver ran down your spine. "No," you breathed, the word barely audible.
He chuckled, a low, rumbling sound that you felt more than heard. "Then it seems we have a new experience to explore together."
The hand on your back reached up and found the zipper of your dress, slowly, agonizingly pulling it down. The silk pooled at your feet, leaving you in nothing but a simple black lace set, one that Damon had bought you just last week.
Elijah's fingers traced the edge of the lace bra, his touch feather-light, his eyes never leaving yours. "Rather cheap for a woman like you, don't you think?" he murmured, his eyes flicking to Damon for a split second.
"Hey," Damon protested from the floor, "I picked that out."
"An amateur's attempt at a classic, I'm afraid," Elijah replied, his voice laced with condescending amusement. He hooked his fingers into the waistband of your panties, snapping it lightly against your skin. "Take them off for me. Both pieces."
Your fingers fumbled with the clasp of your bra, the cool air of the room raising goosebumps on your skin as you freed your breasts. Elijah watched, his expression unreadable, as you slid the panties down your legs. When you were completely bare before him, he made a soft sound of approval.
"Much better," he said, guiding you to the bed with a firm hand on the back of your neck.
He positioned you on your hands and knees in the center of the mattress, your face pressed into the plush duvet, your ass high in the air.
Elijah took a step back, picking up the red rope once more. He began to coil it, creating neat, even loops in the palm of his hand. He was surveying you like an artist might his canvas, choosing how to tie you up before shifting his attention back to Damon.
"Up," he commanded him.
You listened to the rustle of fabric as Damon rose from his knees. You turned your head to look at him, to share a private moment with your boyfriend in this bizarre, wonderful situation. But his attention was fixed on Elijah, his blue eyes dark with a mixture of defiance and challenge.
Elijah chuckled again. "Being disobedient already?" he asked, a hand reaching out to grip Damon's chin, this time with more force. His thumb pressed into Damon's bottom lip, dragging it down. "That won't do. In this room, you will follow my commands. Or you will leave. Do you understand?"
Damon's jaw worked, but he finally gave a sharp, jerky nod and Elijah pulled him in for a kiss. It was a claiming, a dominant act that was over almost as soon as it began. When he pulled away, Damon looked dazed, his lips swollen and red. He straightened his spine, but the defiance in his eyes had been replaced by a simmering heat.
"Good," Elijah said, satisfied, his hands moving down Damon's chest and onto his belt. With one fluid motion, he unbuckled it, pulling it free with a sharp snap, his eyes locked onto Damon's the whole time. He then ripped his shirt open, buttons flying. The soft tearing of fabric echoed in the quiet room.
Damon stood before him, chest heaving, his arousal plain to see.
"I assume you can take off the rest of your clothes without my help?" Elijah asked, his voice dry. "Or should I do that for you as well?"
Damon's answer was to finish the job himself, pulling his ruined shirt off and kicking his jeans away, until he was as naked as you were.
Elijah's eyes swept over him, a slow, hungry appraisal that made you ache with wanting. He then gestured to the bed. "Lie down. On your back. Next to her."
Damon obeyed, his movements a little stiff as he stretched out beside you, his body close enough that you could feel the heat radiating from him. He propped himself up on an elbow, his gaze finding yours, giving you a wink that was pure Damon. A silent reassurance.
You felt Elijah's hands on your ass, his touch warm and possessive. He traced the curve of your spine with a single finger, making you shiver. Then he started with the rope, his movements deft and confident, wrapping the red cord around your wrists and then securing them behind your back. The knots were intricate and beautiful, locking your arms together before he wrapped the rope around your upper thighs, pulling them apart until you were open and exposed to him.
The rope was a soft, silken pressure against your skin, not harsh, but firm. Leaving you stuck in that one position. You couldn't move, couldn't close your legs. You were completely at his mercy.
Damon watched, his blue eyes dark as he drank in the sight of you. "She looks beautiful like that," he said, his voice rough.
"She does," Elijah agreed, his hand smoothing over your bound ass. He gave it a sharp smack, the sound echoing in the quiet room. You let out a soft gasp, a jolt of pleasure-pain shooting through you.
Damon groaned, his hand moving down to wrap around his own erection, stroking himself slowly. He was clearly enjoying this as much as you were.
"Comfortable?" Elijah asked, his voice a low rumble. You could only make a soft noise of agreement, too overwhelmed to form words. "Good."
Your eyes were on Damon, on the way his hand moved, the look of pure lust on his face. The bed dipped as Elijah moved on top of him, his body a long, lean line over Damon's. His hands were on his chest, pinning him down.
"Did I give you permission to touch yourself?" Elijah's voice was a low growl.
Damon let out a frustrated sound, but he removed his hand, placing it by his side. "No," he ground out.
"Good boy," Elijah murmured, the words a soft caress that was somehow more possessive than the rope on your skin.
He leaned down, his mouth finding Damon's. The kiss was slow and deep, a thorough claiming that left you feeling breathless. You watched, transfixed, as Elijah's tongue swept into Damon's mouth, as Damon's hands came up to fist in Elijah's hair, pulling him closer. When he finally pulled away, Damon was panting and desperate for more.
Damon reached for the buttons on Elijah's shirt, tugging each one loose, one by one. You watched the slow reveal of his chest, the hard planes of muscle, the dusting of dark hair. You wanted to reach out, to touch him, to trace your fingers over his skin, but the ropes held you fast. You were a spectator, a willing captive to their desire.
Elijah pushed his shirt off, shrugging it away, his eyes on you as Damon removed his belt. He kicked his shoes and trousers away until he was as naked as the two of you.
Damon reached out to kiss him again but Elijah stopped him, a hand on his chest. He shook his head slowly. "Ah-ah. I think we have neglected the lovely lady for far too long."
He grabbed Damon by the hair, pulling him up and into position behind you. Damon went willingly, a low groan escaping his lips as he settled between your bound thighs.
"Show me how well you eat her out," Elijah commanded, his voice low and commanding. "Make her come on your tongue."
You felt Damon's hands on your ass, his thumbs spreading you open. And then his mouth was on you, his tongue a wet, hot stroke against your clit, then moving up to your tight ring of muscle. You cried out, arching your back as much as the ropes would allow, pushing back against him.
He started slow, his movements languid, a deliberate tease that had you panting and writhing against the bed. You could hear the sound of his mouth against your skin, the wet, slick sounds of him tasting you. It was intoxicating.
"She likes that," Elijah said, his voice a low hum. He was watching Damon, his eyes dark with desire. "Don't you, little love?"
You could only nod, your breath catching in your throat as Damon's tongue dipped inside your ass. He started to fuck you with it, slow and deep, making your thighs shake from the intensity.
Elijah hummed, moving behind Damon. You couldn't see what he was doing, but you could feel the shift in the bed, the change in Damon's posture. He let out a low moan, his tongue pausing its movements against you.
"Did I tell you to stop?" Elijah's voice was a low growl.
Damon's tongue returned to your clit, circling it with renewed fervor. And then you heard the sound of a cap popping open, the wet slick of lube being applied. You felt Damon tense, a gasp against your skin as Elijah's fingers entered him.
"Both of you are just so... responsive," Elijah murmured, his voice laced with a dark satisfaction. "It's truly a delight."
Damon's movements became more frantic, his tongue working you with a desperate energy as Elijah's fingers moved inside him. It was a decadent, dizzying mix of sensations, the wet heat of Damon's mouth and the knowledge of Elijah taking him from behind.
And then Elijah's fingers were gone, replaced by something much bigger. You felt Damon's entire body go rigid as Elijah pushed into him, a slow, deliberate invasion. Damon let out a choked cry, his breath hot against your inner thigh.
You felt the ghost of Elijah's thrusts in the way Damon's mouth moved against you, each push from Elijah driving Damon's tongue deeper inside you. The three of you were connected, a chain of pleasure and pain, each movement affecting the next.
"That's it," Elijah grunted, his hands on Damon's hips, pulling him back to meet his thrusts. "Take it."
Damon was moaning now, his sounds of pleasure muffled against your skin. The vibrations sent shivers down your spine, building the pressure deep in your belly. You were so close, teetering on the edge of a precipice, ready to fall.
"Don't you dare come," Elijah commanded, his voice sharp and clear. "Neither of you. Not yet. Not until I say so."
Your body was screaming for release, but you fought it back, your hands clenched into fists behind your bound wrists.
"You see, Damon?" Elijah's voice was a low purr now. "She listens. Perhaps you could learn a thing or two from her."
He punctuated his words with a particularly hard thrust, and Damon cried out, his hips bucking wildly. You felt a wave of wetness as Damon came, spilling himself across the duvet beneath him with a hoarse shout.
"A shame," Elijah said, his voice laced with disappointment. "I told you to wait."
He smacked Damon hard across the ass, before pulling out of him, his movements fluid and graceful as he moved to stand before you. He looked down at you, his expression unreadable, his gaze sweeping over your bound body, your flushed skin.
Damon collapsed beside you, his body spent, his chest heaving. You felt the bed shift as Elijah reached for you, his hands on the knots of the rope. He didn't untie you, not completely. He just loosened them enough to maneuver you, to flip you over onto your back, your head resting on Damon's side.
Your arms were still bound behind you, an uncomfortable but not painful stretch across your shoulders. Elijah moved between your spread legs, holding you open. He was still hard, still ready for you. And the look in his eyes was pure, predatory hunger.
"As for you," he said, his voice a low rumble, "you were such a good girl for me. I think you've earned a reward."
His lips met yours, gentle and surprisingly tender, a stark contrast to the rough handling. He kissed you slowly, deeply, his tongue sweeping into your mouth, tasting you. It was a possessive kiss, a claiming kiss, and you melted into it, your body arching up to meet his.
You felt his cock slide against your entrance, and you let out a soft moan, pushing your hips up, desperate for more. He chuckled against your lips, a low, rumbling sound.
"I fear I might keep you, little love," he whispered. "Damon, here, is a bit... undisciplined. But you... you are a perfect student."
Just as you were about to answer, to beg him to take you already, he eased inside you with a groan. It was a slow, deep stretch, a fullness that had your head falling back, your eyes locking with Damon's. Damon watched, his blue eyes heavy-lidded with sated bliss as he watched his girlfriend getting fucked by the very man who had just fucked him.
Elijah started to move, his thrusts slow and measured, a deliberate rhythm that was designed to drive you insane. He took your chin in his hand, forcing your gaze away from Damon and back to him.
"Look at me," he commanded, his voice low and rough. "Not at him. At me."
You did as he asked, your eyes locking with his dark, intense stare. He increased his pace, his hips rolling into yours, hitting a spot deep inside you that made you see stars. Your bound hands flexed, a desperate cry escaping your lips as you got closer and closer to the edge.
"You've been so patient," he murmured, his praise a hot brand against your skin. "Come for me, little love. Let me feel you."
The permission was all it took. Your orgasm crashed over you, a blinding, searing wave of pleasure that left you gasping and trembling beneath him. Your inner walls clenched around him, a desperate, rhythmic squeezing that had him groaning and then suddenly pulling out of you completely.
Damon, ever obedient now, leaning over to trail his tongue through the cooling strings of cum on your stomach. He lapped at your skin, cleaning you with an eagerness that sent a fresh wave of heat through your body. He took his time, his tongue circling your navel before moving lower, his eyes on Elijah the entire time.
He finished on your stomach, painting your skin with his release. He let out a harsh breath and looked at Damon.
"Go on," Elijah said, his voice cool. "Clean her up."
When he was done, you were clean, but the fire in your belly was burning hotter than ever.
Elijah chuckled, a low, dirty sound. "You have finally learned how to obey. Good." He then looked at you. "Get her out of those ropes."
Damon obeyed, his clever fingers finding the knots with surprising ease. The rope fell away, leaving deep, red impressions on your skin. You stretched your arms, a sigh of relief escaping your lips as the blood rushed back into your hands.
Elijah moved to your other side, the two of them gently rubbing at the marks left on your skin. Kissing your neck, your shoulders, and wrists. Touching you, and each other, hands roaming, mouths meeting and parting, a tangle of limbs and shared breath.
You could feel them, becoming hard again and pressing into your hips. Reaching down, you took a cock in each hand, stroking them in unison, your thumbs sweeping over the sensitive tips, gathering the beads of pre-cum that welled there. They both groaned, pressing closer to you.
And then, Elijah's voice, a low murmur in your ear. "I want to see how you ride him," he said, his lips brushing against your skin. "I want to watch."
He guided you to straddle Damon, his hands on your hips as he positioned you. Damon looked up at you, his blue eyes dark with a mixture of awe and raw, unfiltered lust. You sank down onto him slowly, and started to move, a slow, steady rhythm that had Damon's head falling back, his hands guiding your movements.
Elijah watched for a moment, his hand stroking his own erection. He knelt behind you, his chest pressing against your back, his arm wrapping around your waist to still your movements. "Not like that," he said, his voice a low growl. "Faster. Deeper. Make him feel it."
His hands were on your hips then, urging you on, controlling your pace, pushing you down harder onto Damon's cock. The new angle was incredible, hitting a spot deep inside you that had you crying out. Both men let out groans at the sight of you, lost in your shared pleasure.
Elijah pressed his hand into your back, pushing you down until you were lying on top of Damon, your face pressed into his neck.
"Hold still," Elijah commanded.
And then you felt it. The slick head of his cock pressing against your already filled entrance. A jolt of panic shot through you, followed immediately by a wave of intoxicating thrill.
"You can take it," Elijah soothed, his hand stroking your back, his voice a hypnotic caress. "Just relax for me. Let me in."
Damon wrapped his arms around you, his lips finding yours in a deep, reassuring kiss. You felt yourself relax into him, your body pliant, a willing vessel. And as you did, Elijah began to push inside.
The stretch was slow and burningly intense, an exquisite fullness that bordered on pain. Your nails dug into Damon's shoulders, your breath catching in your throat as he inched his way inside you, joining Damon in the tight, heated space.
When they both began to move, it was a revelation. There was no graceful rhythm, just a raw, primal thrusting that had you seeing stars. You were completely, utterly filled, pinned between them, taking everything they had to give. Their bodies moved in opposition, one pulling out as the other pushed in, a constant, unrelenting pressure that built a fire deep in your core.
"Look at her," Elijah grunted, his breath hot against your ear. "Taking both of us so well. Such a good girl."
The words washed over you, a litany of praise and possession that pushed you higher and higher. You were lost, suspended in a haze of pure sensation, your mind a blank slate save for the overwhelming pleasure coursing through you. Your orgasm caught you by surprise, a violent, convulsive shudder that ripped through your body, leaving you a trembling, sobbing mess.
Damon cried out your name, his hips bucking up wildly as he followed you over the edge, his release a hot pulse deep inside you. Elijah was last, a low groan as he emptied himself into you.
For a long moment, the only sounds in the room were your ragged breaths, the pound of your own blood in your ears. You were sandwiched between them, a sticky, sweaty tangle of limbs, their combined release leaking out of you.
Elijah was the first to move, gently pulling away before collapsing on the bed beside you, his dark eyes sweeping over the two of you with a look of deep, sated satisfaction.
Damon's fingers traced the curve of your hip, a slow, possessive caress. "Well now," he murmured, his voice raspy and breathless. "That was... certainly more than I anticipated." He leaned in to press a soft kiss to your shoulder, his lips lingering on your skin.
You shifted, feeling the aching fullness between your legs, the sticky mess on your thighs.
"You are absolutely filthy darling, though I suspect you enjoy it." Elijah's voice held that same mix of condescension and fondness. "But still, I can't leave you like that," He gracefully rose from the bed, his movements fluid even now, and padded naked into the adjoining bathroom.
Damon kissed the top of your head, nuzzling your hair. "You okay?" he murmured, his voice raspy.
You hummed in response, burrowing deeper into his embrace. "Better than okay," you whispered back.
A moment later, Elijah popped his head out from the bathroom. "Well? Are you two going to just lie there and bask in your own mess?" He gestured with his head. "Come along. The bathtub is more than large enough for three."
He disappeared back inside, and you could hear the sound of water running, a steady, soothing cascade that filled the silence.
Damon chuckled, a low, lazy sound that vibrated through you. "Mikaelsons," he said, giving your ass a light slap. "So hot, yet so bossy."
warnings: sub!chris, teasing, dick riding, orgasm control
authors note: hi, idk what to write so here's this
"You're being mean," chris whined, his hands on your hips but he didn't dare move you. You were straddling him, hand on his cock, running his tips through your folds making him groan. "I thought this is what you wanted," you giggled, finding his panting and wide eyed expression amusing. "This isn't what I meant!" He groaned, his hands squeezing your hips, sure to leave marks in their wake. "Oh? It's not?" You faked empathy for him, his tip catching at your entrance making you both gasp.
"Please- please.. just- just put it in," chris whined, wanting to drag your hips down himself but he kept the last bit of his composure. "Mm.." you hummed, running his tip between your folds, using it to rub your clit making you sigh out, head falling back. He groaned, hips threatening to buck up at any moment. "Please," he sighed out. "Just- please.." he said, sounding so defeated, just how you liked him, defeated and at your complete control.
"Since you asked so nicely," you said, slowly sinking down onto his cock. "Oh thank you!" He breathed out, his cock fully inside you, squeezing him like a vice, driving him insane. "You're welcome," you smiled, stroking his chest gently. You slowly began to rock your hips, making Chris's eyes roll back. "Don't cum.. not till I say so," you said and chris nodded, clawing at your hips as you began to move up and down. Your cunt taking him in so perfectly, like it was made especially for him.
He was panting, moaning loudly as he held onto your hips. He didn't do much but just help you move, his grip got tighter as you kept going, his cock twitching with each clench of your cunt. He was getting close, you could tell by his grip, his uneven breathing, his breathy moans. He was a goner. "You can't cum yet," you said and chris groaned. "Please- please! I'll be so good," he cried out, his back slightly arching as your scratched down his chest.
He didn't give you a second to speak before he was begging again, "please- god, your pussy is perfect, please- please baby." He begging, his stomach tensing. "Okay, okay you can cum baby," you giggled. Chris cried out, "thank you!" He said as he came, shooting ropes of white into you, painting your walls with his seed. "Oh my god, thank you," he moaned, clawing at your hips as you kept going. "Oh, im not done yet, I still gotta cum," you giggled. He was in for a long night.
requested: yes!
pairing: jordan li x fem!reader
summary: you were supposed to be just another casual fling, someone to keep jordan's bed warm during the winter break. however, two weeks later yours kneeling on your bathroom floor, holding positive test in your hands and cussing the man that did this to you only to run away right after (read the more elaborated request for more context!).
c.warning: not proofread, he / she / they pronouns for jordan, pregnant/mother reader, angst, timeskip/au where jordan is a member of the seven, bad decisions being made, babies (non-identical twins), vought shit going on, hurt with some comfort.
a/n: merry christmas to those who celerate! as a present i bring you my longest fic to date!! +5k?!! oof. i think this one took a while bc it was hard for me to picture jordan as a parent, but once i got the idea i enjoyed so much writing about this request to the point where i couldn't stop, hence the 6k words (and i feel i could've keep on writing) anyway, hope you like it.
part 2 | part 3
“so, what are you going to do?” the faint voice of your best friend comes from the threshold of the bathroom door.
you don’t answer, your vision blurry as you stare down at your hands, at the positive test you’re holding.
“i just want you to know that whatever decision you make, i’ll be there for you, okay?”
but her voice comes slurred, suffocated under the ringing in your ears.
pregnant.
you’re pregnant.
the worst part? you’re 100% sure whose baby it is.
“hey, are you okay?” you friend asks, gently shaking your shoulder. “breath. you need to breath. come on, do it with me, yeah.”
ignoring her attempts at calming you, you stand from the toilet seat. your hands are shaking as you reach for your phone.
“i need to make a call.”
there’s a crumpled ticket on your desk, a phone number scribbled on it. the ink is smudged but you still see the numbers. god, you could type the number with your eyes closed, but you like to pretend that you don’t have it memorized.
that those weeks you spent together didn’t mean anything, that they didn’t leave a mark you.
you take the phone to your ear and patiently wait, like many times before.
and like all those times, the line dies before anyone picks it up.
“i thought we had already established he gave you a fake number,” your friend’s voice comes from the bathroom.
you glare at her over your shoulder and she raises her hands in a surrender gesture. turning back to you phone, you open the tinder app.
“son of a…”
gone. his profile is completely gone.
and the thing is jordan li has always been very careful.
careful with their name. careful with their face. careful with what parts of them they allowed people to touch, to see.
for the longest time, before brink, before rankings, before being vought’s newest, shiny weapon, they split their life cleanly down the middle. two tinder profiles. two fake names. two burner numbers that led nowhere real. it felt controlled. safe.
no attachments. no consequences.
and you had just been… winter girl.
senior year, christmas break. god u half-empty, the campus quiet and cold, everyone scattering back to lives jordan never asked about. you were warm in contrast; laughing too easily, fingers cold when you tugged him closer in your borrowed hoodie, mouth tasting like cheap beer and peppermint gum.
you hadn’t asked too many questions. and jordan liked that.
two weeks, that’s all the time you spent together.
a few restless nights. a few mornings where jordan left your apartment before the sun fully rose. no promises, no expectations, just the heat of skin against skin and shared breaths.
when the break ended, so did you.
jordan unmatched you the same way they’d unmatched everyone else.
they didn’t think about it again.
then, three weeks later, you’re having a panic attack on your bedroom floor as your best friend holds you to her chest, murmuring over and over again that everything will be fine.
the hours pass by, she’s now sleeping on your couch –said she didn’t want to leave you alone in a moment like this– and you’re still sitting on your bedroom floor, positive test between your hands.
you stare at it for a long time as you consider your options.
you think about abortion. you really do. you pick up your phone and search for the nearest clinic. book an appointment without even blinking. not even five minutes later you cancel it.
then rebook it.
then cancel it again.
in the morning, when your friend comes into your room she finds you sleeping with your phone in your hand, screen unlocked. and what’s on your screen? a blog for first time moms.
a few days later she drives you to your first doctor’s appointment. she sits beside you the whole time, holding your hand when she notices it starts shaking.
when you get out, she asks if you’re going to try to reach jordan again. you simply shake your head and you force her to treat you to some pancakes. i’m eating for two now, you say. your friend just shakes her head, laughing.
and just as you told her, you don’t try to contact jordan again in the next nine months. not even during those nights where you felt so lonely, crying yourself to sleep. not even when you found out you were having twins.
you surrounded yourself with people who actually cared. people who wouldn’t disappear from your life without even saying goodbye.
the next time you see jordan he’s on your screen.
you sit on your couch, feeding one of the babies as the other sleeps in the next room. on the tv is the latest vought addition, smiling and waving at the small audience at the studio where the interview is being shot.
he talks about his latest projects, what being a member of the seven is like, what and honor it is for someone like him —whatever the fuck that means, you think— to be a part of such a great and vital team.
you knew he was a supe when you first met him, but he never talked about his powers. you thought it may be out of embarrassment. you’ve heard stories about very strange and useless powers; people who could enlarge body parts or turn their eyes any color they wanted. whatever jordan’s power was, he didn’t talk about it or showed it off in the weeks you spent together.
and you had always tried to avoid anything that had to do with the oh so great jordan li; turning the tv off the second one of his commercials came on, turning away when you saw his face on a big poster on the street.
you had tried to avoid the memories that arose every time you saw that face, those eyes and that birthmark on his chin.
this time, you don’t get to watch the full interview because at some point your son starts crying from the other room. turning the tv off, not before cussing the man on the screen one more time, you hold your kid close to your chest as you go to check on her crying brother.
as you hold him close to your chest, looking down at his chubby face, you can’t help notice the similarities with the man on your screen. the slope of his tiny nose, and those eyes. those dark, beautiful eyes are an exact copy of his father’s. they hold he same spark you noticed on your first date with jordan.
as you doze off with your baby peacefully sleeping on your chest, the last thing you think about is how good it felt to be held by jordan in those brief moments after sex, before he got out of bed and disappeared from your apartment thinking you were asleep the whole time.
it’s been almost a year since you had the twins when you meet jordan again. although, you would’ve prefer it had been under different circumstances.
you happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time, getting involved in a robbery situation that could’ve gone wrong if it hadn’t been for the group of supes that appeared at the store right in time.
you were hidden in a corner, holding your babies close to you as you tried to shush them, trying your best to keep calm, if not for yourself, for them.
then there’s a shot near you, a couple of aisles to your left, and you jump in your place. your daughter starts crying, shaking in your arms and you whisper that everything will be alright, even though you’re not too sure about it.
then there’s another shot, followed by a loud crash and the sound of glass shattering. the whole time, you keep your eyes glued to the floor, rocking your body and your kids with you.
after a few more minutes of fighting, a soothing voice comes near you, “everything’s okay now, ma’am. are you or the kids hurt?”
when you look up you find one of the most beautiful women you’ve seen in your life crouched right in front of you, her eyes furrowed with worry as she checks you and your twins for any signs of harm.
and maybe if you weren’t so shocked, or if your head wasn’t spinning like crazy… maybe you would’ve noticed the way jordan’s eyes seem to widen with recognition as she takes a good look at you. maybe you would've even noticed the way her entire body seems to tremble as she looks down at the two twins, who are now staring up at her with dark, glossy eyes.
jordan’s breath leaves their body.
same eyes.
not just similar. not a coincidence. the exact same shape, the same intensity, like someone had lifted them straight from jordan’s face and placed them into a smaller, softer version of themselves.
jordan’s knees nearly buckle.
“yes… yes, we’re okay. thank you.”
jordan’s attention immediately jumps back to you, and this time she takes a decent look at you. she notices the dark circles under your eyes, the way you look somehow terribly tired but also incredibly beautiful. i mean, they’ve never believed you weren't the most beautiful person they had ever met. but something about you right now… maybe it is the new hairstyle, or the way you’re still holding onto your twins while you whisper to them in a low and soft tone.
finally, you stand up on wobbly feet, not letting go of either of the babies, and jordan snaps back to reality.
babies.
two of them.
two beautiful babies that look like the perfect mixture of their genes and yours.
somehow, jordan forgets where they were, or that they need to head back to the tower for their weekly report.
“thanks for the help,” you speak with a weak voice, clearly still in shock.
“it’s nothing. do you…? uh…”
as they look at you, jordan remembers the last time they saw you. your body sprawled on your bed, back bare and tinted by the orange glow of the streetlamps coming in from your small window.
you had been a fun couple of weeks, that’s all. that’s what they had told themselves for months, anyway. still, they had found themselves trying to reach you again several times. it would mean breaking their one and only rule about relationships: no reruns. once you’re done with someone, you’re done.
but, as much as they would’ve tried to contact you, they hadn’t been able to. he had never bothered to ask for your number, preferring to contact only through tinder. and, of course, all your information had disappeared along with his fake account when he deleted it all those months ago.
“hey, you ready to leave?”
both you and jordan turn to look at her teammate, who’s contemplating the situation with a slight frown on her face. jordan only nods, unable to speak and forcing their legs to take a step back from you. marie notices the way jordan’s eyes linger on the two kids a second two long before almost bolting from the store.
“do you need help with anything else?” she asks you, but you shake your head, already bundling the babies up and putting them on the stroller.
“i can manage alone, thank you.”
marie nods, waving your little girl goodbye before exiting the store.
that night, jordan doesn’t sleep. he paces the halls of the tower, his head a mess of thoughts and fears. he feels like shit for leaving you behind today, but on the other side, what was he supposed to do? switch right in front of you and let you see the man that had left you behind all those months ago? no, he couldn’t have done that, not in that situation. you were already shocked, so worried about your kids. she had noticed the way your hands shook as you caressed your girl’s dark hair. he would’ve hated to add to that anxious feeling.
“you’re going to drill a whole in the floor if you keep pacing back and forth like that.”
marie was standing in the threshold of the meeting room, leaning against the wall, arms crossed over her chest. she was wearing her training clothes, which meant she must have just gotten up from the gym.
“do you want to talk about it?” she asks.
jordan knows he doesn’t need to pretend he doesn't understand. marie had always been a smart girl, and she probably saw everything that happened this morning and immediately knew what was going on.
with heavy steps, jordan walks to his chair on the meeting table and falls onto it, head immediately dropping low.
“so they’re yours?”
jordan nods. “i think so, yeah.”
“but you’re not sure.” marie’s voice is so soft, so gentle.
“i saw their eyes, marie. and they couldn’t have been older than a year. which is…”
exactly the time that had passed since he abandoned you.
“so who is this girl?”
marie’s question has jordan going through all their memories of you. although the time you two had spent together had been brief, they remembered those weeks with kindness. you were a smart girl, funny as hell, and jordan could never forget the way their heart seemed to somersault the first time he saw you walk into the restaurant where you two first met. your profile picture had been astonishing, but seeing the real thing…
his stomach twists with guilt as they remember every decision they made under the assumption that nothing could follow them home.
“you’re a parent now, jordan.”
“i know,” he whispers, voice almost breaking at this point.
marie lays a hand on jordan’s shoulder, slightly squeezing. “those kids need you, you know that, right?”
“i know, i know. but how..?” jordan growl with frustration. “she doesn't know me, marie. i didn’t let her. she just knows the asshole that fucked for a couple of weeks and left without saying goodbye. how am i supposed to ask anything from her? i don’t… i don’t deserve it.”
“but the kids do deserve to know they have a parent like you, jordan.” maris its down on the chair in front of them. “i mean, don’t get me wrong. they seemed to be in great hands.”
that was true. marie had never seen such unconditional love gleaming in someone’s eyes before. she watched you putting on a smile for your kids, pretending you weren’t scared shitless as you readied them to get out of that damned store.
“but they also need to know about you. and i’m not saying it will be easy. hell, if i were her i’d make you grovel like crazy before i let you anywhere near my babies.”
even though she’s trying to lighten up the mood, jordan’s head is still swimming with frustration and anger at themselves.
“i think there’s a bigger issue to consider, though,” marie’s whispers comes after a few minutes of silence.
jordan’s head snaps up, looking at her in the eye.
“what if… what if the babies have your powers, jordan?”
at that, their chest squeezes tighter. they know exactly how it feels to wake up one morning in an entirely different body, not understanding why your anatomy feels so different when you feel the same on the inside.
marie’s question brings on a new wave of anxiety.
what if they do grow up with jordan’s powers? what if that’s where you draw the line? what if you’re not supportive? they can’t let their kids grow up in a home where they’re not accepted.
“i need to talk to her.”
with a little bit of help from other members of the team, jordan gets your phone number and location.
“are you sure about this?” marie asks, not trying to convince them not to leave, but making sure this decision is not based on an irrational instinct.
“she needs to know the truth and i need to know if those babies are mine.”
it’s almost midnight when there’s a knock on your door. you frown, turning down the tv volume and closing the door to the twin’s room before walking to your front door.
your breath catches as you look through the peephole, but you open the door anyway.
“can i help you?”
jordan looks up from her dirty shoes and her heart stutters the same way it did at the store just this morning. she checks over your shoulder, noticing the kids are nowhere to be found.
“can i come in?”
“i’m sorry, i don’t mean to be rude but… i don’t know you.”
jordan hates the way your words sting. she knows you say it because you don’t recognize her female form, but even in his masc self you’d feel the same way.
“i need to talk to you about something. and i would like it if we could do so in private,” jordan says, looking over her shoulder this time to make sure there are no nosey neighbors around.
you doubt for a second but them remember that this woman saved you and your kids a few hours ago. stepping out of the way, you invite jordan in. she takes everything in; from the mess of clean laundry piled on the sofa waiting to be put away, to the two pairs of tiny sneakers resting right next to your own next to the apartment door.
jordan knows this place, but they also recognize how much it has changed since the last time he was here. where there were once posters and prints of your favorite band or movie there’s now a picture of each kid. the shelves are full of pregnancy guides and books on how to be the best mother your kid could ask for.
“can i… can i get you something to drink?” you asks, looking shy and small.
you’re wearing an old college sweatshirt as a pyjama, the sleeves rolled up and dirty with baby food.
“no, thanks. can we just sit down for a minute?” jordan points at the sofa and you immediately take all the baby clothes and throw them on the nearest chair, freeing some space for her. “thank you.”
you sit down next to her, not too close, though.
“i want to thank you again for today,” you immediately say. “you and your team literally saved our lives.”
“it’s quite literally our job, so…” jordan huffs a laugh. “you don’t need to thank me.”
“right.”
for a couple of minutes, you two sit down in an extremely uncomfortable silence. jordan is trying to put some order to their thoughts, calculating the best way to approach the situation. they don’t want to spook you, not too early for them to explain themselves.
“so…” you start.
and jordan immediately speaks. “i’m here to tell you the truth.”
well, that’s not ominous at all, you think.
“the truth…” you repeat, frowning.
“but first i’m going to ask you to please let me talk. i know what i’m about to say is most likely going to piss you off…”
“what are you talking about?”
“but i need you to listen to me. okay?” you nod, still not understanding what the hell is going on.
and before you can ask that question out loud, the woman in front of you disappears. and in her place is the last person you want to see right now.
“what the actual fuck?” you jump from the couch, standing and taking a huge step away from jordan.
you barely register what just happened because you’re too busy looking at him. you don’t exactly care how he got here, into your apartment, sitting in your couch, but you do know you don’t want to see him.
“get out.”
“please, listen.”
“get. out.”
jordan stands up too, and as he walks to you, his body morphs again, returning to the woman who saved your life.
“will you listen to me if i stay in this form?”
you can only stare at her, mouth agape. and jordan waits patiently until the shock wears off and the anger comes back.
“what the fuck is this?” you whisper-yell, stepping away from the door that leads to the kids’ room. “how dis you…? what was that?”
“that was me using my powers. this is who i am.” she holds her arms out. “look, i cam where because i needed to show you. because, if my guess is correct, and i’m pretty sure it is, those two kids i saw this morning have a very high change of becoming like this at some point.”
you frown. “what are you talking about?”
“the kids. twins, right?” jordan takes a step towards you, slowly and carefully, as if they were dealing with a scared kitten. “are they…?”
“they’re mine,” you bite. and jordan almost claps at the protective tone of your voice. they babies truly couldn’t be in better hands. “but yes, you’re also their father, or mother, or whatever.”
jordan’s chest cinches, as if hearing the words from your lips had suddenly helped open a well inside them. they feel the floor beneath their feel melt and they find themselves taking in quick breaths.
“we don’t need you, so you can’t walk back the way you came if you don’t want this. we’ve been doing just great without you all this time.”
when jordan looks up at you, they notice your defensive stance, the way you have your arms crossed against your chest, the way you seem to lean your body so that you’re standing in front of the wooden door nearest to the kitchen. that must be the kids’ room, jordan thinks.
she shakes her head, “i want it. i want to be a part of this.”
“yeah, right.”
jordan takes another step closer and your entire body tenses. they retreat.
“i’m sorry i wasn’t there for you since the beginning.”
you bite you trembling lip. “i tried to reach you, you know?”
this time, it’s who’s walking towards them. “i tried to call and each and every single one of my calls landed at an old pizzeria’s line. i tried to message you but your entire profile was gone. and i tried to find you but i din’t know who the fuck you were, so wouldn’t even know where to begin to look.”
by the time you’re done talking you’re face to face with her, you’re almost the same height, so it’s easier to glare at her and to let her see exactly how much you hated him during those weeks, months even.
“i even found out about your real name on the newspaper. i saw a picture of you, the other you, posing with your supe friends. and that’s when i found out that the father of my two kids wasn’t named fucking zack. how do you think that felt, huh?”
jordan bites the inside of their cheeks, trying their best to keep the tears at bay.
“like shit, jordan. it felt like shit. and then i find out you were also keeping this from me.” you point at her, at the shape of her body. “why? did you think i wasn’t going to accept you ? that i was going to… what? ghost you and completely vanish from the earth. oh, wait.”
“do you really think i would’ve disappeared like that if i had known you were pregnant?” jordan shakes her head. “i didn’t know. there was no way for me to know.”
“and whose fault is that?” you bite. you notice your mistake too late.
a second later a loud shriek comes from the babies room and you walk straight towards it. you look once at jordan over your shoulder.
“we don’t need you, jordan. we haven’t in all these months, and i don’t think we’ll start now.”
and with that you close the door behind your back and silently cry into your baby’s hair as you try to soothe her.
the next morning you find a phone number scribbled on the tiny whiteboard on the fridge.
a few months go by. you spend christmas at home with you twins and your best friend. in february they start going to daycare so you can return to your usual routine.
everything seems to be normal, until one day there’s a knock on your door. sighing you look at the phone number on your fridge. you still haven’t dared to call, but neither have you erased it.
you open the door without looking through the peephole.
“what do you…?”
but this time it’s not jordan on the other side. instead, you find a man in a suit whose smile is entirely too broad.
“may i help you?”
“oh i think you will, yes.” he nods. “may i come in?”
“no.”
his smile drops, ever so slightly. leaning his head to the side, he asks, “have you notices something strange about your children lately?”
you go cold.
“i don’t… i don’t know what you’re talking about, sir.”
“really? because we’ve heard a really strange report about a certain pair of twins who got mistaken today at school, and not because they’re identical twins, exactly.”
you feel the beating of your heart speed up as the smile in the man’s face grows bigger and more sinister.
trying your best not to seem scared, you say, “i’m sorry, sire, you must be mistaken.”
and with that you slam the door. you wat a couple of seconds, waiting for him to kick the door down, but there’s only the soft pat of his shoes against the stairs as he leaves.
immediately, you pull out your phone and run to your fridge.
they answer on the first ring.
“is everything okay?” jordan asks.
“i need your help.”
you’ve been pacing around the living room for almost twenty minutes when there’s a soft knock on your door. you walk on your tippy toes, trying not to make any noise in case the suited man is back, but jordan’s vice come from the other side of the door.
“it’s me. jordan.”
when you open the door, he rushes in, closing it behind his back before reaching for you. without even thinking, jordan hugs you tight to his chest.
“are you okay? are the kids okay?”
“yes… he left without fight.”
“what did he want?” jordan asks, breaking the hug only so he can look at your face.
“my… my babies.”
jordan’s blood freezes. they knew this day would come eventually. it was only a matter of time before vought found out about his parenthood. but vought would catch them dead before they turned in their children for vought to experiment with.
“i’ll protect them,” jordan says, voice low and sure. “i swear to you. whatever it takes.”
you sniff, bracing yourself and trying not to think about how good it felt to be held by jordan again after so long. “i didn’t raise them so vought could put targets on their backs.”
“i won’t let them,” jordan says fiercely.
and the look in jordan’s eyes as he glances at the kids’ door lets you know they actually mean it.
you allow yourself to believe him.
you spend the rest of the day going over your plan to protect the twins. jordan helps you put some order in the apartment and as the hours go by the scene feel more and more domestic.
when the time comes to feed the twins, jordan dares to ask to help you.
“i won’t argue if you don’t want me to…”
“good luck with that one,” you say, pointing at your son. “he’s messy.”
jordan looks at the kid, who looks back up at him with his bright, dark eyes and giggles.
“not today, right, bussy. he’s going to eat the whole thing and not make a mess.”
you want to ignore the way your chest warms at jordan’s baby voice, you really want to ignore it. but you can’t. and before you know it, you’re lips are pulling into a soft smile.
“don’t say i didn’t warn you.”
by the time dinner time is over, jordan’s sweater is covered in green and white splotches. but he laughs as he helps clean your son and ready him for bed. you watch them from the couch, holding your daughter to your chest and admiring the gentleness with which jordan treats your baby.
finally, they sit down on th couch with you, your son cradled in their arms. jordan doesn’t dare to look away from him.
soon, he’s teary eyed as he caresses the baby’s cheek. he reaches a small hand, gripping jordan’s dirty sweater.
“i’m sorry i missed it,” they whisper. when he looks up at you, you find a few tears already escaping their eyes. “i’m really sorry.”
you watch them quietly. “you didn’t know.”
“still. i shouldn’t have left you. god, i… you are perfect, i don’t know why i would ever dare to leave you like that.”
“jordan it’s okay. it was just a fling, i get it.”
“but it wasn’t,” jordan scoffs. “it wasn’t for me. and i knew it. that morning as i left your apartment i was convinced i was making a mistake, and yet… i left anyways.”
that renders you speechless. you can only stare at jordan, at the sweet boy they’re holding, a matching pair to the soft baby girl in your own arms. you think of how easy everything would’ve been if that morning he’d decided to keep you in his arms. of how different things would’ve been if you had waken up to him laying next to you, his breath on your neck, his arm around your waist.
“i think it’s time for bed,” you murmur, standing up from the couch and carrying your daughter to her tiny bed.
jordan stays put, already feeling like an intruder and not entirely sure you’d like it for them to step into your kids room. instead, they help you pick up your son and follow you with their eyes as you walk back into the kids’ room.
you take a few minutes, sitting on the small kid’s chair that rests in between the two beds, contemplating what awaits once you step out of the room. you wait so long you actually believe they might just have left.
but when you step out into the living room, you see the kitchen light on and hear the clattering of dishes being washed and put away. when you walk into the room, jordan is back into her female form, a pink rag on her shoulder as she finishes cleaning up the dinner dishes.
she must have heard you, because her shoulder immediately tense as she turns around. her hair is now pulled into a half-up that makes her look even more striking. wet dish rag and all.
before you can say anything, she begins.
“i don’t expect forgiveness,” she says. “or anything. but i need you to know that i’m not running. not again.”
you study them. this version of jordan, the one with dark circles and quiet fear in their eyes. crossing your arms over your chest, you walk farther into the kitchen.
“you hurt me.”
her eyes sparkle again, and you know she’s trying her best not to cry. “i know.”
“and i know probably you didn’t mean to,” you continued. “but you did.”
she nods. “i’ll carry that.”
silence falls. then you step closer. picking up the rag from her shoulder and folding it in two, you put it away.
“i don’t need perfection,” you say softly. “i need honesty.”
jordan looks at you, hope trembling on her lips. “i can do that.”
you reach for her hands, holding them tight.
“good,” you whispered. “we can start over.”
she nods. “i think we both deserve that.”
she offers you her hand and you shake it.
“hi,” she whispers, almost shy.
“hey.”
“so… do you want to grab a coffee sometime?”
that makes you smile. nodding, you say, “i’d love that actually.”
and for the first time since winter, since those fake names and disappearing acts, jordan li feels something steady take root in their chest.
something they will never run from.
thanks for reading. hope you enjoyed it <3 likes and reblogs are appreciated !!
summary: You and Jordan are friends with benefits, and Jordan is trying so hard to be okay with that. Somehow, they still fell in love with you despite their best efforts to not fucking do that. But you've only ever fucked them when they're a guy, so they assume you're only interested in them one way. Just like everyone else. You've never said anything to make them think any different so it's obvious, right? So they take what they can get. Which is only half. And they keep you at a distance, because anything else will kill them.
A/N: flashbacks are in all Italics. some smut.
gif credit: artemidosgifs and stannyramirez
“Oh shit, Jordie, wait-” You can’t catch your breath, legs shaking where they’re thrown over Jordan’s shoulders.
“Stop fucking squirming.” Jordan huffs, licking some of your wetness off your thigh.
Your vision is swimming a little. How long have you been in this position? Or in Jordan’s room? It’s hard to keep track of anything, when you’re with them. His tongue finds your clit again. Insistent, rough swipes. You’re too overworked now for anything gentle to even register. How many times have you cum now?
“You always taste so fucking good.” Jordan moans, voice hoarse and low.
He puts a hand under your back to press you further into his mouth. With only your shoulders pushed into the mattress you can’t move. Jordan’s eyes are always glued to your face when you fuck. As if he’s daring you to shy away from whatever he’ll do to you next.
Considering that his favorite thing to do is overstimulate you, you’re not sure the irritation is fair. What are you supposed to do when he’s made you cum four times and is still going? According to Jordan, the answer is simple: lie there and take it.
Lifting you up. Pinning you down. These are the solutions he’s arrived at. Jordan hates having to chase you just to give you the orgasm you begged him for in the first place.
“You ready for my fingers again?” Jordan asks, but it’s not a real question, because you don’t get to so much as gasp before he’s plunging three fingers into you again.
He’s rough as he rocks his fingers into that soft spot inside of you that always makes your eyes roll back into your head. He knows the angle you like him to use by heart.
“Fucking shit, Jordan!” Your hands fall into his hair, grip like a vice, and Jordan half moans and half laughs against you.
It’s the vibrations that send you over the edge again. The breath leaving your lungs in one rush as that coil inside releases and makes the world go white and your ears ring.
You come back to yourself slowly. Jordan hovering over you, pressing kisses into the side of your neck. You grasp at his shoulders, pulling him down so that he's laying on top of you. The weight is comforting after the overwhelming head rush. You still feel shaky. He goes down easily, wrapping one arm underneath you.
“I can feel you smirking, jerk.” You laugh weakly, hitting his arm.
“You soaked my fucking fingers. Think I'm allowed a smirk.” Jordan says.
He lifts his head from your neck and there's that smug look you love to see him wear. It's enough to make you ready to have him all over again. You settle on gently massaging his scalp.
“I'll tell you what you're allowed.” You tease, grinning at him.
“Hah! Always have enough energy to be a fucking brat, huh?” Jordan rolls his eyes.
You wrap your legs around his waist to bring him closer. “I've got enough energy to make out too! Gimme a kiss.”
“Fucking insatiable.” Jordan scoffs, but gives in. Because he always does.
It's hard to think when Jordan kisses you. He kisses like he doesn't need to breathe. Or be anywhere else but with you. One of his hands finds yours, locking your fingers together. You squeeze tight. Try not to imagine holding his hand like this outside each other's dorms. Because that only ever makes you feel empty afterwards when all the hormones from the orgasms should leave you floating.
You get a third wind when Jordan rocks his hips against yours and you feel he's hard again. You reach a hand between the two of you, grasping his dick to angle him back inside. Thank God for Supe refractory periods. You sigh when his tip pushes into you.
“Yeah princess? You want me again?” He tries to sound teasing, nonchalant, but he only sounds like he wants you just as bad.
You rock your hips so that he slides inside fully. Watch him tilt his head back and moan for you as you move. Hungrily taking in the way every sound shapes his mouth. You lean up to kiss at the underside of his jaw. You can't leave any hickies on him but you always kiss him like you want to. God you fucking wish you could. Maybe if you could leave marks people wouldn't chase after them so much. If everyone knew Jordan was yours. But Jordan isn't yours.
You bite him a little harder.
Jordan's hand finds your throat. You whine, the noise strangled against his palm. You go lax as he pushes you back into the bed. Gently. His fingers flex, a little tighter, and your eyes flutter shut.
“Gonna be good for me?” Jordan asks.
You nod your head frantically, legs dragging him closer. It's never close enough. No matter what you do.
“Yeah, I'll be good, Jordie.” You say the words he wants to hear, feeling your head go soft and thoughtless again.
“Fucking liar.” He grinds his hips into yours and chokes you harder when you clench around him.
You’d been fast friends, best friends, since the moment you stepped on campus and met one another as freshman. Talking to Jordan. Spending time with them. Everything that first year didn’t even feel like getting to know one another. It just felt like coming home.
You didn’t say as much to Jordan. They would have rolled their eyes and scoffed at how sensitive you were, if you had. But you knew they felt the same way. You were the one Jordan went to whenever they were sad. When they were excited. When they were coming into themselves, learning to love who they were after a lifetime of everyone else telling them not to.
You were the first person to see them. Before Brink, even, you saw them. All their potential. All their greatness. All of them, and Jordan had never forgotten that.
Jordan saw you too, in turn. You’d never felt like much more than a pretty face, before Jordan.
You were the type of beautiful that made people look twice when they walked past you. When you were a little girl you soaked in all the praise like a flower. Every: ‘she’s so pretty’, and ‘well look at her!’, or ‘oh wow!’ was nourishment to your little soul.
It would be impossible to pinpoint the moment you realized that was all anyone saw. Even once your powers manifested. Advanced healing, advanced reflexes, limited invulnerability, energy manipulation. You were the whole nine yards. Your parents, when you were thirteen, had sent a video of you using your powers off to Vought.
A man and woman showed up a day later in suits, wanting to meet you personally.
“She sure is a little looker, isn’t she?” The man had said, and he’d held your hand for too long before he let go.
They’d come prepared. With ideas for costumes. Which team of teenage Supes you should be placed with. If you should just go straight for television. The adults talked around you. Not paying you any mind as you stared at the costume that would reveal so much skin. You’d never worn a skirt that short before. You hadn’t been allowed, hadn’t even wanted to, really. If you’d come home from the mall having bought anything like that on your own, your parents would have blown a fuse. Now they just sat on either side of you, mile wide grins plastered on their faces.
All the voices faded to background noise. You realized maybe you were too young to be a superhero. You thought it would involve more... saving people. Running into burning buildings. Getting the bad guys. Saving the day. The people from Vought were only talking about magazine spreads. About what persona would fit your look.
“What about school?” You’d asked, quietly, and everyone in the room had turned to look at you baffled.
“What about school, sweetheart?” The woman laughed. “You’ll get a private tutor, of course. But your future is big. You won’t even have to worry about stuff like that anymore. Goodbye lame homework. Hello red carpets!”
You sat very quietly until they left. Your parents were more angry than you’d ever seen them, when you told them you wanted to wait until after high-school to pursue being a hero.
You knew telling them you weren’t sure you wanted to do it at all was off the table.
During high-school you noticed people didn’t listen to you. You would be telling someone about your favorite book; or talking about a movie that changed your whole worldview, only to realize the other person had been staring at your lips the entire time.
You stopped talking so much about things you cared about. No one listened anyways.
‘Bimbo.’
‘Airhead.’
‘Slut.’
Were all things you’d heard before you’d ever gone on your first date. Gotten so much as your first kiss on the cheek. High-school was lonely, and you couldn’t talk about it being lonely without sounding like an asshole, you quickly realized. The few friends you had would roll their eyes when you’d try and vent. You thought it was just playful ribbing. Friends tease each other. It made you feel included! Until you caught them mocking you behind your back to one another.
‘Look at me, I’m Y/N, and life’s so hard because I’m so pretty and popular. Is she fucking serious? Stuck up bitch.’
You stopped venting.
When you got to God-U, you weren’t sure what to expect. College was a chance to reinvent yourself. Even if you weren’t sure you wanted to be a Superhero you knew this could be a chance to find your people. Lifelong friends.
People who you could get coffees with between classes. Who would go to all your birthdays and want to be there. People you would spend hours on the phone with. Fall asleep studying together. Girls who might like you enough to make you their maid of honor. Guys who would high five you when you did something cool and not try to sneak a glance at your chest.
You were imagining it all as you unpacked your boxes. Your stomach twisting itself into knots. Living in a half world between excitement and dread.
Then you met your roommate and she gave you the look. The look you’d gotten all your life from girls, and you knew you’d never be real friends. Girls who looked at you like that kept their boyfriends away from you at parties. And they never shared the secrets that friends share because they thought you’d put them in a fucking burn book. The look alone almost made you give up and just go home.
You went for a walk instead, fighting back tears. That’s when you ran into Jordan. Literally, ran into Jordan. You knocked the both of you to the ground.
When they’d snapped, “What the fuck dude?” at you, harsh and angry and very them, you’d burst into tears.
It wasn’t the perfect way to meet your person. But you were glad you met them at all.
“Stop moving your eyes away from the screen.” Jordan says.
“I’m not allowed to move my eyes away from the screen?” You laugh.
“No, this part is really important. You have to pay attention. I wanna see if you catch it.”
You try your best to keep your eyes glued to the screen, as instructed. But you can’t help the way you keep glancing towards Jordan. She looks good. She always looks good, but right now you don’t even want to look away from her. The colors of the movie flashing across her face, blues and golds, make her look like a painting.
“Are you watching?” Jordan asks, and you smile at the excitement in her voice.
You look back towards the movie, wondering what she wants you to see so badly. You look just in time. A small detail catches your eyes and you gasp, reaching out a hand blindly to shake her in your own excitement.
“Did you see that in the background?” You shake her again, for good measure.
“I saw it.” Jordan laughs.
“That means that he killed the wife!”
“How do you figure?”
You pause the movie, ready to explain where you think the plot is heading. When you turn to face Jordan you have to take a deep breath. You don’t know whether you love or hate that look. Your feelings on the matter change day to day.
Jordan is leaned up into the arm of the couch, relaxed, and she’s staring at you with The Smile she wears sometimes. She started doing it a few months into your friendship. Back when you used to talk and then slowly stop. So completely sure that nobody wanted to hear what you had to say.
Jordan had asked you, back then, why you always stopped telling stories halfway through, or stopped talking about your day, or the latest book you’d read.
You wanted to lie, at first. Eventually you told a half truth, “I never have anything interesting to say.”
Jordan had looked at you for a long time. You were worried that somehow, up until that moment, they hadn’t realized how boring you were. But you acknowledging it out loud had made them think about it, and now they were going to ditch you for a friend who was interesting, funny, and smart.
Instead, Jordan had told you that she loved the way your mind worked, and she’d smiled The Smile at you, for the first time. You hadn’t known how to respond, to the words, or the smile. You turned the conversation back towards Brink’s latest class assignment.
Later that night you’d gone back to your dorm room and cried, but you’d felt happier than you’d ever felt.
It made you feel warm and soft that three years later Jordan still smiled at you like that. It felt like your cue to say anything on your mind, no matter how dumb. Green light means go. The Smile means talk.
“Well?” Jordan nudges you with her foot, still smiling, and waiting for you.
You shake your head to break free of the spell she puts you in, “Well, look at his sense of style for the entire movie. All his stuff is modern and sleek and then the first time we see his bedroom all the rest of the decor is in line with the rest of the house, except that one thing. All the camera shots are so purposeful and they lingered a little, after he walked away. They wanted us to see he was keeping a trophy. He totally killed her, didn’t he?”
Jordan pauses for a second and then laughs. “I don’t know how you always guess right. I didn’t see the twist coming at all the first time I watched it.”
“Secondary super power.”
“Connecting all the dots?”
“Connecting all the dots, yeah.”
“Y/N! Y/N, thank fucking god, you gotta come with me.” Cate grabbed you by the arm, rougher than she’d ever touched you before.
“I was on my way to class.” You tripped over your feet as Cate pulled you the opposite way you needed to go.
“Forget class! Jordan’s gonna get themself expelled.” Cate snapped.
“What?!”
“They’re beating the shit out of Peter in the locker room. Luke’s not on campus. I can’t get close enough to stop them-”
You’d broken into a sprint towards the fighting arena. You didn’t know what the hell was happening. Peter and Jordan had spoken maybe ten times to each other in all the years of attending the same university.
You’d never gotten anywhere so fast in your life. Andre was standing steadfast in front of the entrance to the boy’s locker room, a small group of other students standing outside. You could hear the sounds of fighting pouring out from the door.
“Back it up you fucking vultures.” Andre snipped. He might not have super strength but he was still Number 4, and could look intimidating when he needed to.
“Andre, what’s going on?” You pushed to the front of the crowd.
“Thank fuck Cate found you. You gotta get in there. Jordan’s gonna fucking mur-” Andre glanced at the phones pointed at the both of you, trying to record even a drip of gossip about top students trying to seriously hurt each other and lowered his voice, “Jordan is actually gonna fucking kill Peter. I’ll keep the crowds back. Get in there.”
You moved past him into the locker room and your jaw dropped at the state of the place.
You thought these lockers were bolted down. Apparently not. At least four rows of them were knocked to the ground, heavily dented. A water bottle refilling station had been crumpled to nothing, exposed pipe spraying water across the floor.
“Get off of me you fucking animal.” You heard Peter cry from further in the room and ran.
Jordan had shoved Peter up against the wall. You were surprised Peter was still conscious. He was lucky he healed so fast. You could see his black eye fading even as Jordan broke his nose.
“You fucking stay away from her. You understand? I hear you fucking talking like that again and I take the tongue out of your fucking mouth, you asshole.”
Peter laughs through a mouth full of blood,“Not my fault she gave it up so easy, Li-”
Jordan throws him into one of the last standing lockers and you see that they are indeed bolted into the ground. Evidently, Jordan throws stronger than Supe resistant steel can take. When Jordan moves to lift Peter out of the crater his body made in the downed locker you rush in between them, putting a shield up.
“Y/N?” You can see some of the anger fade from Jordan’s face, just a little, at the sight of you.
“Hey, Jordie. Think Peter has had enough.”
Jordan scoffs, “No, he really fucking hasn’t,” he leans around you to yell at Peter, who’s trying to push himself onto his knees, “He’s still running his fucking mouth!”
“Pussy whipped asshole-” Peter groans.
You glance at Peter on the floor, aghast, “Peter! Stop antagonizing, Jordan. What’s wrong with you?”
“Unbelievable, honestly. You walk in on Jordan kicking my ass and you tell me to stop antagonizing the fucker?” Peter huffs, pushing his nose back into place so it won’t heal wrong.
“Name calling isn’t gonna make him stop kicking your ass. I’m trying to help.” You shoot back.
“Well, no one needs your help, you dumb-”
“Hey.” Jordan interrupts. He’s not yelling anymore, but his voice is the loudest thing in the room. “Watch your mouth, Peter. I fucking mean it.”
You look back and forth between them. They watch each other for a long moment. Jordan looking eerily calm. Peter looks away first.
“Yeah, that’s what I fucking thought. Come on, Y/N.” Jordan grabs your hand and marches you out of the locker room. Past Andre and Cate, who try to stop you both but Jordan waves them off and muscles his way past the crowd too.
He doesn’t stop until you’re back in his dorm room and he’s shut the door behind the two of you.
“You were fucking that loser?” He asks, clicking the lock into place.
“You’re lucky Andre and Cate kept people out of the locker room so there’s no video of everything! You could get expelled, Jordan! What the fuck happened?”
“He hit me first and he’s not even in the top ten. What’s he at? Number 14? No one’ll give a shit what happens to him. When did you start fucking him?”
“I’m not fucking him! Or… I’m not just, fucking him. I’m… I was dating him. Why were you two fighting?”
“Dating? For how fucking long? You didn’t tell me you were dating anyone.” Jordan’s hair is already a disheveled mess. He yanks his fingers through the strands and makes it worse.
“We’ve been going on dates for like… three months? Kinda? Maybe.” You say quietly.
“Three months?! Are you serious? Why didn’t you tell me? What the fuck?”
“Why are you so mad?”
“Friends talk to each other about shit like this! And if you’d talked to me, I would have told you that Peter is a clout chasing piece of shit that’ll never amount to anything. You should’ve heard the shit he was saying today. Fucking piece of shit!”
“That’s why you were fighting?” You wring your hands together, a knot tying itself over and over in your stomach. “What did he say?”
Jordan stops pacing the room, goes still and turns away from you.
“Well? What did he say? It was bad enough to make you two beat the shit out of each other! So what was it?”
“He just… You don’t have to worry about it, okay? He won’t go near you again.” Jordan says firmly.
“Whatever he said he’s gonna keep saying. Just behind my back. I should know.”
Jordan sighs and moves to sit beside you on his couch, knee bouncing with anxiety. “He was… bragging to his shitty friends. About being the first guy on campus to fuck you. About how it didn’t even take that long and… how… he was thinking of recording you. So he could show them how slutty you are. It was…. fucking disgusting.”
“Oh.” You say.
You swallow around the lump in your throat. You’d done everything you could to avoid something like this happening. Had kept your dates off campus, to make sure he actually wanted to date you and not just the hot girl ranked Number 3. You’d spent nights staying up on the phone laughing and talking. You’d put off sleeping with Peter for a whole two months, even though you liked him, because you wanted to make sure he liked you.
You hadn’t even let him call you his girlfriend until a few days ago. You thought he really liked you. But no matter how hard you try… you guess this is it. You’re just something pretty to look at. Even Vought doesn’t take you seriously, despite your powers. You’re the top ranked student in everything. Right behind Jordan. Forensic analysis. Combat. Battle strategy. Still, you only ever get asked about makeup routines and how to maintain your figure in interviews.
You wipe at your burning eyes and try not to cry about something you’ve already accepted.
“Fuck that guy. Fuck him. He’s so far beneath your level I’m surprised you can perceive his plane of fucking existence, okay? He’s a fucking single cell organism. He doesn’t even know what a brain is.” Jordan gets up from the couch to kneel in front of you, tries to look you in the eyes.
“I’m so fucking stupid.”
“No, you fucking are not. Don’t say that about yourself. He’s fucking stupid. It’s genuinely insane you even wasted your time with him. Why didn’t you tell me you were seeing anyone?” Jordan asks, voice quiet.
“I just…. I wanted to make sure he was actually gonna stick around before I even brought him up to you. You’re so … important, why tell you about someone who isn’t? It’s not like you write home to me about any of the people you mess around with! We’ve never really talked about this kind of stuff.”
“Yeah, but it’s different. I’m not serious about anyone! You were actually dating, Peter. And I would have told you not to.” Jordan rolls his eyes.
“Well, I wanted to make sure it was serious. Before I even said anything.”
“It wouldn’t have gotten serious if you’d told me about it in the first place. I wouldn’t have let Peter within ten feet of you!”
“We’re talking in circles.” You huff in frustration, pressing your palms into your eyes to stop the stinging.
“Sorry, I just…. Fucking still wish I was beating the shit out of him, honestly.” Jordan says.
“You are not leaving this room for the rest of the day, Li. Even if he is Number 14, you can’t walk away from a fight then go back for seconds cause you didn’t get it all out the first time. That won’t hold up too well in court.”
“He heals too fast for there to be any marks left on him. It’ll all be hearsay.” Jordan smirks.
You let out a weak laugh. Jordan reaches out, touching the corner of your lips. “Can we shoot for something a little bigger? If I don’t see you smile soon I’ll actually go kill him.”
You roll your eyes and slide to the edge of the couch, so you’re resting your head on Jordan’s shoulder, leaning all your weight against him. He wraps his arms around you, rubbing circles into your spine.
“I really wanted it to work out, Jordan.” You mumble into the skin of his collarbone.
“With fucking Peter?”
“With… anyone.” Your voice wavers and Jordan’s grip gets tighter. “It’s so fucking lonely. I just want to be someone’s favorite person. Not because of how I look, but because they like me. Really like me. And no one fucking does, no matter how hard I try.” The tears start falling now and Jordan pulls back and makes you look up at him, one hand on your cheek.
“Hey, hey, don’t cry. I fucking… I like you. I’ve always liked you.” Jordan says, frantic as he wipes away the tears as they come.
“It’s not the same, Jordan!” You shake your head, and bite your lip. You’d almost said it’s not enough. Because it isn’t. But you can't think about that for too long. It makes the hole in you ache a little worse.
“Yeah….guess it’s not.” Jordan says quietly. He keeps wiping away the tears, dutiful and gentle as he goes.
“You said he hit you first?” You ask, after a long moment of him quietly soothing you.
“Come on, I’m not stupid. Had to let him get the first swing in.” Jordan smirked.
“What did you say to make him hit you?” You ask.
“Told him he was lucky you believe in charity work and giving back to the fucking needy.”
It’s enough to startle a laugh out of you. You smack his arm weakly before pulling him into another hug. He kisses the top of your head so softly you don’t notice it, too busy laughing.
“Y/N, good to see you dear. You keeping our Jordan out of trouble?” Brink asks as he comes out of his office, not surprised to see you perched on Jordan’s desk.
“Professor, we both know that I’m the one getting Jordan into trouble.” You flash the older man your most mischievous grin.
“Ah, my apologies. I assume that means you’re distracting her from doing her work, as well?” Brink raises an eyebrow teasingly.
“Yes.” You say.
“No.” Jordan protests, at the same time.
You throw your head back with a laugh. “It’s a goal I hold most dear to my heart, to distract Jordan from grading these papers. I think I’m succeeding wonderfully, you’ll be happy to know, Professor.”
“She’s joking, Professor.” Jordan smacks your thigh and you glance down just in time to burn the image of her hand on your thigh into your brain. She almost never touches you, when she’s like this.
“You know, Jordan, I didn’t happen to lose my sense of humor after I hit sixty.” Brink waves off Jordan’s concern and leans towards the two of you, whispering conspiratorially, “I know the gray hair gives the illusion of being a boring old fart, but I do like to laugh every now and then.”
Jordan shakes her head with a small laugh and you can’t help but watch, entranced, at the way her hair brushes the olive skin of her cheeks. When you look back towards Brink you find him already watching you, a knowing smile on his lips. You laugh nervously, and look down at the wood grain texture of Jordan’s desk. It’s suddenly fascinating. Is it real oak? Cherry?
“You close to being done, Jordan?” Brink asks casually.
“Uh-” Jordan’s face blanches and you suddenly feel genuinely sorry for distracting her from her work.
“-relax, kiddo. You’re not in trouble. Geez, what am I, a work nazi? Those papers don’t need to be graded for another four days, right? You work too hard. I was just asking cause’ I was getting a little hungry myself and wanted to know if you could use a break? There’s a great new Indian place nearby, apparently. Professor. Karp was telling me about it yesterday. It’s only a twenty minute ride away. Wanna tag along?”
“I should probably finish up a few more papers-”
“She would love to take a break, Professor.” You reach over, saving the work Jordan’s done and shutting down her laptop at lightning speed.
“Brat.” Jordan mouths the word at you quickly, so Brink won’t see.
You stick your tongue out at her, not caring if anyone sees.
“You should come along too, Y/N. Been awhile since we last caught up.” Brink has a twinkle in his eye that you can’t quite place.
You slide off Jordan’s desk anyways, not willing to pass up any valuable Time Spent With Jordan, “I’m not sure if I trust Professor Karp’s recommendation on restaurants, but I’ll try and be very brave about it if the food is awful.”
“Jordan, have I ever told you how much I love this girl?” Professor Brink shrugs on his coat with a laugh.
“Yeah.” Jordan watches Brink help you into your own coat with a small smile. “Yeah, Professor you have.”
“Fucking fuck me!” Jordan throws her phone onto the coffee table in front of her.
“Are the parental units being emotional terrorists again?” You ask from your spot on her bed, turning the page of your textbook, mindlessly highlighting another sentence that could be important for the upcoming final.
“No, it’s just the whole fucking roster is busy.” Jordan roughly runs a hand through her hair, disheveling her bob.
“Huh?” You look up from your notes.
“The whole roster is locked in for finals but I really need to let off some fucking steam!” Jordan sighs.
“How big is the roster?” You try to sound curious, like a best friend would be, and not irritated, like someone in love with their best friend would be.
“Too big for me to not be fucking someone right now.” Jordan snips.
“We are studying right now. Or I’m studying, and you should be studying too, instead of thinking about needing to get your rocks off.” You say coolly, flipping to the next page.
“I can’t fucking focus.” Jordan groans, but comes back over to the bed and flops down beside you, throwing her arm over her eyes. “What concept are we on now?”
“Theories on limiting public and private property damage in fights with other Supes.”
“There is no fucking way I can focus on something that fucking boring without having an orgasm first.”Jordan groans, again, “It’s not even about limiting loss of human life or injury?”
“Nope. Property damage.”
“Fuck me!”
You both fall into silence. You studying. Jordan, you assume, weighing the pros and cons of downloading Tinder. The thought makes your stomach drop.
Then you get an idea. An awful, horrible, no good, rotten fucking idea.
Your mouth is opening before you can stop yourself, “You could fuck me.”
“Huh?” You’ve never seen Jordan sit up so fast.
“I just mean- … we really gotta focus and I... I mean if you just need to let off some steam we could always…” You try your best to fumble your way into proper usage of the English language but even the thought of fucking Jordan makes that impossible.
“Are you serious right now?” Jordan shifts halfway through the sentence, eyes glued to your every nervous, jittery movement as you sit in front of him.
“Wouldn’t have said anything if it wasn’t a real offer.” You say quietly, not looking up from the book.
Jordan snatches said book from your lap and tosses it away, ignoring your noise of protest. “You don’t think it’d make things weird?”
“Weird was when I had to take you to get your wisdom teeth removed and you kept saying the green man was gonna get us while you were still high off the good stuff. Sex is just sex, right?” You try to say it casually.
“Would… would it be a one time thing?” Jordan asks slowly.
“It could be more… we could be-” You say, equally as slow.
“- could be?” Jordan echoes, voice sounding oddly tight and expression carefully blank.
The look is so strange it makes you panic, and if you’d thought of saying something stupid and desperate for one second like ‘a couple’, well, that look on his face is more than enough to send you straight back to reality on the ‘my-life-fucking-sucks’ express in no time flat.
“We could be like friends with benefits!” You blurt out in one breath.
“Oh.” Jordan says.
“It was just an idea.” You reach for the textbook again, which landed near Jordan’s thigh. You’re careful not to touch him when you grab it, or sound too disappointed, or heartbroken at the completely lackluster reaction Jordan has to the thought of having sex with you. “A stupid idea, forget it.”
“Why’s it stupid?” Jordan’s brow furrows, tone teetering on the edge of defensive.
“I mean…” You can’t think of a reason fast enough. “We’re probably sexually incompatible.”
“Why do you assume that?” Jordan goes from staring at you, to glaring at you.
You’ve always hated how once Jordan latches on to a line of questioning, you can’t get them to drop that interrogation for shit. A dog with a bone has nothing on a Jordan who wants an answer.
“I don’t… know?” You say, but it sounds like a question.
“I think we’d be compatible.” Jordan states this like he’d state the sky is blue or water is wet.
“Have you thought about it before?” You ask, bewildered.
“What, are you into something really kinky?” Jordan answers your previous question not at all.
“No!” There goes that nervous body language of yours again.
“Only way to really know if we’re sexually compatible is to actually try it out.” Suddenly, Jordan is within your personal space bubble.
You don’t really know how to react, your body freezes up on instinct. Jordan’s hand comes up to rub soothing circles into the crook of your elbow. Your shoulders fall away from your ears.
“Can I kiss you?” Jordan’s voice is quiet, soft as he tilts his head to knock his nose against yours. Playful, teasing. But the look on his face is something you can’t place at all.
You feel his breath on your lips and nod absentmindedly.
“Don’t want you to nod when I ask you a question like this. Yes or no, Y/N?”
“Ye-” The words not fully out of your mouth before Jordan is kissing you, a heavy hand pulling you closer by the nape of your neck.
You pull yourself into Jordan’s lap and try to focus on how good it feels when he nips at your bottom lip, instead of how much you wished you’d asked him to be your boyfriend. Or girlfriend. Partner. Everything. Even if he’d said no, at least then you would have had an answer. Now you’ve only made your life harder.
You stop thinking so much when Jordan puts a hand on your hip and guides you to grind yourself against him.
“Y/N’s right.” Jordan mutters, not looking up from his phone.
“No, she is not. You’re just agreeing with her because that’s your default factory setting. Listen to the context of the argument please.” Andre snaps, drowning his Vought Triple meat burger in ketchup.
“I did. Your grim dark theory on children’s media is lame, and Y/N knows more about the Monster’s Inc universe than you ever will.” Jordan shrugs.
“Hah!” You laugh in Andre’s face.
“Is it really such a flex to be an expert on the lore of a Pixar movie universe?” Cate asks teasingly.
“Yes.” You say.
“No.” Andre says, like a sore loser.
“I agree with Y/N, it’s literally in the explicit text of the movie, Monsters Inc isn’t a post-apocalyptic world. It’s a separate dimension from ours. The monsters come to our dimension to harvest screams of children to get clean, scream energy. God, Andre, pay attention during movie night.” Luke jumps in on the tormenting Andre train, grinning wildly at the other man from across the table. He gets a middle finger for his troubles.
“I’m glad someone pays attention to the intricate lore of the greatest movie of all time.” You sniff haughtily.
“I literally agreed with you first.” Jordan looks at you from over the top of her phone in a way that makes you blush.
“I’m glad two people are paying attention to the intricate lore of the greatest movie of all time.” You clear your throat.
“Thank you.” Jordan’s intense brown eyes fall away from you and you take a gulp of your drink.
“Bathroom alert, Y/N. A stall just opened up.” Cate tells you pointing to the bathroom door right as another girl exits.
“I am kissing you on the lips, telepathically.” You say, sliding from the booth you’re all sharing.
“Don’t you telepathically lip lock with my girlfriend.” Luke calls after you, laughing.
“Get some powers of telepathy yourself and make me, fire boy.” You enter the bathroom, shutting out the sounds of laughter from your table with a smile.
You take the biggest stall at the back and try to go about your business quickly. You hear two faucets turn on, someone washing their hands, and try not to get pee shy.
“So how was it?” A monotone voice asks, you assume one of the hand washers.
“You know I don’t usually kiss and tell, but it was insane.” A higher, more giggly voice answers.
“So they really are good in bed then, huh?” The monotone voice sounds a little more curious.
“Incredible. All the rumors are true. They’re a little… uh, brusque, about the after sex part, if I’m putting it lightly, but the sex itself was great!” The high voice chirps.
“What? Did they throw you a towel and tell you to kick rocks?” The monotone voice asks.
“Pretty much.” The high voice sighs. “But they made me cum so many times I think I’d still pick up if they called me again. You think they might?”
“I say this with all the love in the world: girl stand up.” Monotone voice drawls.
“You wouldn’t be telling me that if you knew how good it felt to sit on her face.” High voice says.
You stifle a laugh, trying not to get caught eavesdropping, but with Supe hearing it really is hard to mind your own business. Besides, they’re not being that quiet about the conversation anyways.
“I’ll have to take your word for it.”
“Or you could experience it for yourself. They were just as good as a boy as they were as a girl. Maybe better. I dunno. She was more aggressive as a girl, which was kinda hot.”
“Jordan Li, pussy eating extraordinaire. Can we go now? Our food is probably ready.” Monotone voice sighs.
“Fine, but I’m telling you, the things they can do with a strap are-”
The voices fade away with the sound of the bathroom door opening and closing.
You find you don’t really want to finish eating your food, when you get back to the table. You spend the rest of lunch trying your best not to look at Jordan, and also ignoring Cate’s concerned gaze boring into the side of your skull.
You pretend to be sick to avoid having to face the reality of Jordan being more than happy to touch other girls as a girl. They just don’t want to touch you when they’re a girl. You wonder what about you is so uniquely off putting. You wonder why it can’t be you. Why can’t it ever fucking be you?
Jordan barges into your room on day three of the silent treatment that you told the group chat was due to a raging fever.
Luckily your eyes, swollen shut from all the crying, and the red nose to match, corroborate the story.
“We got it all. We’ve got tissues. We got soup. We got pain meds. We got liquid meds. We also have all the ingredients for a hot toddy, if you want to mix your poisons a little.” Jordan begins to unpack everything onto your counter.
“I don’t want to take anything.” You say morosely, and a little mean, kind of wanting to hate them but just feeling sad. Jordan’s your best friend before anything else, and you could never hate your first real friend.
“Come on, just a little something. You sound fucked up.” Jordan practically coos, touching your forehead. “Feels like your fever’s gone down a little. Sit up for me.” He says, and pulls you to sit up when you don’t do it on your own.
“I don’t want to fucking-” Jordan puts two pills in your mouth as soon as you open it to bitch at him. He hands you water to help you swallow it down.
“Thanks for that. That was really fun for me.” You snap once you’re done.
“It’s for pain and should bring down the rest of your fever.” Jordan lays you back down, tucking the covers all the way up to your chin. You marvel at the way he doesn’t rise to the bait of your very clear attitude. Jordan, catching the look on your face offers you a small glare. “I’m worried. You usually don’t get sick. I’ll check that attitude when you’re better. Now, do you want the damn hot toddy or not?” He rubs your head soothingly.
“Yes, please.” You try not to pout as you watch Jordan make the drink for you. You really hate how hard it is to hate them. “Sorry, Jordie.”
“Oh, you can go ahead and save that apology for when I make you cry into your pillow, yeah?” Jordan doesn’t even look up from measuring the ingredients.
You pull the covers over your head and leave them there until Jordan pulls them back down.
You almost hadn’t come to the party.
You weren’t in a partying mood, as of late. You were in more of a Shakespearean pining era than a City Girls one. But the group had bullied you in the group chat for a week straight until you’d promised to come. The group bullying hadn’t worked so much as Jordan asking you one single time to go had.
So here you were.
You’d been nursing one drink for the better part of an hour and hadn’t done a single line of cocaine. Jordan had offered you some, but the line had already been placed on the back of his hand. You politely declined, much to his confusion. You only ever did hard drugs with Jordan, and only at big rager parties like this one.
At the moment you’re nearly sober. Because you didn’t so much as want to touch Jordan right now. Let alone do something like snort a line off of him. Then you’d have to do something like lick the residue off his skin. Which would lead to kissing him. Which would lead to making out with him. Which would lead to fucking him.
And you think, for the sake of your sanity, you need to be done fucking Jordan Li.
It’s been about three weeks since you were “sick” and you’d dodged every attempt at getting physical that Jordan tried to initiate since. At first you were able to pass it off as still feeling icky. That excuse worked for a week. Now, you didn’t hang out alone with them and pretended not to see Jordan’s ‘you up?’ texts until morning.
Your friendship just needs a hard reset. This time spent not having sex will do it.
Besides, it’s not like Jordan isn’t swimming in fucking choices. What does it matter if you’re one less body off the menu? There are plenty of hot girls at this school. Jordan’s probably already fucked half of them.
You throw back the rest of the drink you’ve been nursing all at once.
“Are you okay?” Cate puts a hand on your arm and you offer her a blinding, completely fake smile.
“Yeah!” You say, as chipper as possible.
“Jesus christ.” Cate replies, face going all sad and concerned. “What did Jordan do?”
“Huh?” You blink, confused.
“You are the most pissed off I’ve ever seen you. What did Jordan do? You’ve been avoiding them for like two weeks. What gives?” Cate pulls you closer by the arm so that she doesn’t have to shout over the music.
“Nothing!”
“Can you try to lie again but do it better, this time?” Cate frowns.
“Jesus Christ, does everything have to be about Jordan? Must my whole entire goddamn life revolve around Jordan Li?” You snap, the way someone who isn’t mad about anything does.
“Okay.” Cate says slowly. Like she’s trying to placate a wild animal.
The tone alone makes you roll your eyes and move to disappear back in the crowd of drunk twenty-somethings. But she firms her grip on you, the leather of her glove digging into your skin.
“Y/N-”
“I’m fine, Cate. I just have to get over it.”
“Get over what?” Cate narrows her eyes at you. That shrewd look she sometimes wears when she knows something before someone else falls onto her face.
You wonder if you’re completely transparent about your pining or if Cate missed a dose of her medication. Is she starting to hear the buzzing of your frantic, angry, miserable thoughts? Or is she just naturally perceptive?
“So, this is where the real party is hiding!” An arm is thrown around your shoulders suddenly and you are careful not to sigh, because Jordan may not be as perceptive as Cate, but they’re pretty damn close. Especially when it comes to you.
You’ve never moved away from them holding you close like this before, so you can’t do it now. You try to just be still. Don’t lean into his warmth, but don’t cringe away either. You probably used to melt against him, when he touched you. Pathetically. Desperately. A sunflower following rays of light across the sky.
“-Princess?” Jordan gives you a gentle shake and your head snaps to the side to look at him. “You okay?”
“Yup!” Apparently, you didn’t say that convincingly because he starts to scowl at you. Surprisingly enough, the thought of withstanding a Jordan interrogation does not make you want to be at this party for much longer. “I’m gonna head out, though.”
“What?!” Twin exclamations of confusion form Jordan and Cate both.
“Not feeling it. I think I need to get some more sleep. I got a headache, or… something.” You shrug.
“Or something?” Jordan echoes.
“You are not going anywhere, yet, dear friend.” Andre throws his own arm around you, appearing from thin air, and tugging you away from Jordan. You’ve never been more grateful to him.
“How do you figure that?” You laugh.
“We’re about to play truth or dare in the other room and you dodged playing last time. You can leave after you’ve played. You can’t get known as the truth or dare dodger.” Andre says.
“You say that as if being a party game dodger is like being known for dodging the Vietnam draft.” You snort.
“No, it’s worse. People that dodged the Vietnam drafts are heroes. Truth or dare dodgers are cowards. Come on.” Andre begins to drag you towards the other room and you go along with minimal dragging of your feet across the floor.
The room is crowded, but all the faces are familiar. They’re all within the top twenty, or the groupies that hang around everyone in the top twenty. You pull Andre across the room to a spot on a raggedy couch you have to squeeze the both of you into. No room for Jordan, who you want to avoid. Or Cate, who is too fucking perceptive.
You wish you’d grabbed another drink for yourself. Jordan winds up across the room from you, in an optimal position for trying to catch your eye and give you a concerned look every ten seconds.
This does not make Truth or Dare more fun to watch.
Vulgar dare from one classmate to another. Forcing someone else to admit an uncomfortable truth. One humiliation after the other. Pick your poison on whether you want to debase yourself through the damnation of your own words or a physical act. All challenges of self-mortification being doled out by people who secretly don’t like each other very much, but all call each other friends anyways.
“Earth to Y/N the space cadet.” The girl sitting next to you gives you a playful shove. You try not to glare at her. Her name escapes you. You think she hangs around with number 6. Or something.
“What?”
“Cate picked you. Truth or dare.” She says the words ominously, causing teasing jeering to rise from the entire group.
“Well, Y/N, what’s it gonna be?” Cate raises her eyebrow at you challengingly.
“She doesn’t have to play if she doesn’t want to, guys.” Jordan rolls his eyes.
“Dare.” You say, wanting to get this over with.
The room erupts into excited noise. You don’t know why. Cate, of all people, would never force you to do anything humiliating. Or truly scandalous. It’s why you trust her enough to say dare, instead of truth. But you never pick dare, because anyone else would abuse the power. Everyone looks too eager to see Number 3 do something embarrassing.
As if Cate isn’t your closest friend beside Jordan. As if she’d abuse the trust you place in her. It makes you sick. You don’t wanna be here. At this party, or at this stupid fucking school.
“I dare you…. to kiss the prettiest girl in the room.”
“What?!” Jordan turns to give Cate the nastiest, most disgusted glare you’ve ever seen.
“She doesn’t have to do it if she doesn’t want to. You know I’m all about consent.” Cate shrugs innocently, crossing her legs together and giving you a smirk.
You sit for a second, contemplating your next move. There are plenty of pretty girls at this party. In this room. If nothing else, the top twenty and their groupies are photogenic (hell, some of them are only in the top twenty because of their looks to begin with. You hope you’re not one of those.) But there’s only one girl you want to kiss at this party.
There’s only one person in the world you want to kiss at all.
You take a shaky breath, feeling like the walls are closing in. Andre nudges you subtly, catches your eye, as if to say: ‘you okay?’ but there’s something else in the look too. Something that says it’s not just Cate, who knows. Probably your whole friend group knows how you feel. Probably the whole school. Probably anyone but Jordan sees it. And Jordan probably does see it, because they’re too fucking smart not to, and they’re choosing to ignore it. Because it’s easier that way. Because your feelings are probably too inconvenient. Because you’re not their type. Because you’re clingy, and stupid, and not good enough-
You stand up. The room is a wall of noise, and smell and sound pressing in on you. You see Cate smirk. You see Jordan looking away. You see every girl in the room sit up straight. Delusional, if they think any of them could ever be anything, compared to Jordan.
You walk past every other girl in the room, and stand in front of Jordan, who still isn’t looking.
You kick his ankle with the toe of your heel, to get him to look at you. His head snaps around, the curls of his hair sticking to his forehead, and he looks comically confused. And it’s really too fucking much, for someone as smart as Jordan to look so confused. So fucking baffled, about what’s happening here. But it’s a pretty convincing act. That only makes you more angry.
You make an impatient motion with your hand. A ‘do it already’ movement of your wrist. The same way you’d crossly signal for another driver to go first at a fucking four way stop.
He just blinks up at you, owlish.
"Well? Are you gonna let me kiss the prettiest girl at this fucking school or what, Li?" The room has gone a little quiet, or maybe the blood is rushing in your ears so bad everything is quiet in comparison.
Jordan stares up at you for a moment longer than is comfortable. And you really start to feel the eyes of everyone in the room on you. You don’t let yourself shy away from the attention. Not Jordan’s, not anyone else’s. You straighten your spine and look down your nose at him, and tap your foot. Try to look like the mean girl everyone expects you to be because no one cares who you actually are.
As if you could care less if Jordan leaves you stranded right now. As if it will be their loss, if they don’t kiss you, instead of the worst moment of your entire life.
Jordan shifts.
You try not to think of how desperate you must look, when you reach out at a speed that isn’t human to hold her face and angle it up, so you can finally fucking kiss the girl you love.
You wish you could kiss her like it didn’t mean anything. Like she’s nothing. Like you hate her. But you don’t know if this is the only time you’ll ever get to kiss Jordan when she’s your girl, and not your boy. This might be the last time you kiss Jordan ever.
It has to be.
You close your eyes tight. Try to ignore the way they’re stinging. You kiss Jordan slow and tender. The way you’ve always wanted to. You tangle a hand in her hair, to bring her closer. You try not to marvel at the way the longer strands tangle in your fingertips. She gasps against you, and her hands find your waist and you are too sober to cry over Jordan touching your waist above your clothes. Like a fucking middle-schooler.
But the tears start falling anyways. You let out a quiet sob against her lips that you try your hardest to stifle, and Jordan may not have kissed you like this before. But she’s kissed you plenty. She pulls back, startled, like an animal. Big brown eyes full of concern.
And the spell is broken, and you are standing in front of about thirty of the world’s worst, most unsympathetic human beings, crying, because you kissed your best friend who doesn’t want you back.
You’ve got ten seconds to leave before someone pulls out their phone and records you. If they haven’t already started.
So you run.
Through your tears the layout of the house becomes unfamiliar. You try to hide your face a little, and hope people don’t recognize you as you pass them by, sobbing openly.
Years of pent up feelings are bubbling out of you. The relief. The grief. The way you hate yourself for falling in love with the only person who has ever loved you. Wondering why you couldn’t just be grateful for the kindest, most understanding friendship you never even thought yourself worthy of. Why couldn’t that have been enough?
Why did you fall in love with them?
A hand closes around your wrist and you try to yank yourself away but you’re pulled into a bathroom and the door slams shut behind you.
You wipe your eyes so you can see who’s tried to save you from embarrassing yourself any further.
It’s Jordan. Because of course it is.
You burst into tears again.
“Are you fucking drunk? What the fuck was that? Y/N what the fuck is happening right now?” Jordan sounds on the verge of a mental break.
She’s probably wondering what type of things people are gonna start saying about the two of you on social media. She’s probably mad at you for giving her a PR mess to clean up.
“I’m not drunk!” You protest, sounding a little like someone who might be drunk.
“Are you high? What did you take? Lemme see your pupils.” Jordan reaches out to grab your face and you swat her hand away.
“No one fucking drugged me, Jordan. I’m just a stupid fucking idiot who’s in love with you! There! Are you happy?! Why don’t you go laugh at me with one of your stupid fucking girlfriends. You’ve got so fucking many of them.” You wail, sinking down to the floor, and hiding your face in your arms.
The room goes quiet, besides the sound of you crying. Loudly. You think you might be having an anxiety attack. You can’t breathe right. But maybe that’s just from the heaving, toddler-like sobs.
“You’re in love with me?” Jordan asks, quietly.
“As if you don’t know!” You snap your head up to glare at her. She kneels down in front of you, and puts her hand on your knee and you try not to get distracted by how pretty she is. “I follow you around like a puppy dog. Like your little shadow. And everyone notices except for you, because you don’t want to notice, because you don’t fucking want me. I got the message, Jordan. I got it!”
“What message?!” Jordan grabs you by the shoulders, voice fraying at the edges, and looks like she wants to shake you.
“You don’t touch me!” Your voice raises to the edge of a yell, and the sound of it echoes in the small room.
“What are you fucking talking about-”
“-don’t be cute, Jordan. You don’t touch me when you’re a girl! I thought… I thought it was maybe just that you didn’t touch girls when you’re a girl but it isn’t. Apparently you have plenty of fucking girls that you touch and fuck, when you’re a girl. It’s just me, that you don’t! What’s so fucking bad about me? Huh? What’s wrong with me? Why don’t you want me?” You demand.
You think you might sound like an insane person, and you wish you could pull the words back in but the hurt is bubbling out. A river relishing that first burst of freedom when a dam breaks, no matter how much damage it causes.
Jordan is staring at you like you’ve grown two heads. Mouth agape. You wish you were dead, a little.
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry, Jordie.” Your voice goes small, and you sniffle. “I really tried to stop. But I can’t, I love you. I’ve probably loved you from that very first day. Because you’re wonderful, you’re the most wonderful person I’ve ever met and I don’t know how anyone…” You trail off, fanning at your eyes to try and pull yourself together. “...I don’t know how everyone else knows you without being in love with you. I wish I wasn’t in love with you, please don’t be mad, please don’t fucking-” You sob, again.
You find yourself pulled into Jordan’s lap this time. It’s a foreign feeling, to be touching so much of Jordan when she’s like this. You bury your face into her neck and cry, and let her black hair block out the fluorescent lighting. She shushes you, cheek pressing against the side of your head, and that’s familiar. The way she soothes you. Your hands wrinkle the fabric of her jacket, clinging to her tightly.
“I’m sorry. I can get over it, I promise. I just needed to tell you. I’ve never kept anything from you before. It was killing me, but I can get over it, Jordie, I promise-”
“Hey, hey, hey, no-” Jordan’s turning you to look at her suddenly. “Don’t fucking… I’m not… I’m not mad at you or fucking… gonna leave you, Y/N. What the fuck? I love you.”
You could start crying from the relief of hearing those words come from her lips again. You thought she wouldn’t ever speak to you again. She grabs you by the chin and kisses you, hard, your teeth clink together and your noses mush and you go completely still and frozen, like a scared deer.
“I could see the words not fucking register in your brain the way I meant them. I am in love with you. Romantically.” Jordan barely pulls away, you feel her lips brush against yours, every other word.
“What?”
Jordan laughs, “Good, now you’re just as confused as I fucking was. Why the fuck wouldn’t I want you? I’ve always wanted you. You’re…you.”
“I’m me?” You echo.
“I didn’t…. I didn’t want to make you feel… like everyone else has. Like I was just fucking waiting around for a chance to date you. Or fuck you. As if your friendship doesn’t fucking matter. Or was a consolation prize, if I couldn’t get you to date me. It isn’t a consolation prize. It’s the most important thing to me in the fucking world.” Jordan laughs, and the sound is suspiciously choked up.
“Oh.” You say, and are crying. Again. Jordan laughs and wipes the tears away with her thumb.
“But what about when we started having sex? You still… never touched me when you’re like this.”
“You’ve never said anything about liking girls.” Jordan says quietly.
“You’re not just a girl. You’re the girl. And guy. ” You say, holding her hand against your face and kissing her palm fiercely. She laughs again, and puts her forehead against yours.
“So what? I’m the one girl you’re into?” Jordan raises a brow and doesn’t look very happy saying the words, oddly enough.
You tilt your head trying to puzzle out why, slowly, you arrive at a conclusion. “I literally talk about girls all the time.”
“When?!”
“I’m constantly pointing out pretty ones!” You snap.
“I thought you were just being sweet!” Jordan snaps back.
You close your eyes and breathe in the smell of her cologne.
“You make me so angry I don’t know how to think.” You say, and kiss her bottom lip softly. “You’re not an… experiment, if that’s what you’re asking. You’re the…” You trail off, realizing this is not one of your romantic daydreams where you’ve thought of the words you’d tell Jordan over and over again.
In real life you can’t tell people that they’re the love of your life if you aren’t their girlfriend. Unless you want to look crazy.
Jordan, who is your best friend, before she’s anything else, melts. Because she knows you well enough to know what you aren’t saying.
“Yeah.” Jordan nods, sniffling once and trying to look very tough even though her lip is quivering a little. “I… I love you too. Or whatever.”
“If it makes you feel better I’ve slept with other women before, to make sure I wasn’t just in love with you.”
“Weird fucking thing to tell me after I say I love you, but go off.” She glares at you.
“I think you could do with feeling a little jealous. Why am I hearing stories about how good you are at fucking other women while I’m trying to piss at Vought Burger in peace?”
“What?” Jordan’s brow furrows.
“Three weeks ago I heard-”
“-I fucking knew you’ve been mad at me!” Jordan grabs your waist, pulling you closer.
“You would have been pissed too, if you heard the shit I was hearing!”
“If I hear anyone talking about fucking you ever again I’m going to go to prison.”
“Hot.”
“Shut up and be my girlfriend.”
“Shut up and be my everything.”
“You’re gross.” But she kisses you, and it’s gentle, and no one else is there to see it.
And it’s perfect.
A/N: this is my first time doing full on smut for a fic! it beat me the fuck up. if you enjoyed this fic consider reblogging, leaving a reply, or an anon! a writers fuel is engagement. and this fic took too damn long to write. if you really loved this, check out my PATREON: slasherscream, for some exclusive content. xoxoxo
Finals have been the only thing on your mind, which did not sit well with Jordan. Making them fuck you silly to get your attention back on them.
2k words
warnings: Feminine and Masculine Jordan, kissing, face sitting, oral, multiple orgasms, praise, degrading, cum eating, back shots, missionary, dry humping, sex, overstimulation, teasing, fingering, needy/mean Jordan yeah i think thats it
a/n : please interact guys!! So ik to write more or not.💗💗🥰🥰
The stress from finals was really getting to you, buried in your books 24/7 not giving yourself anytime to rest. Which unfortunately led you to neglect your partner, not giving Jordan the attention they craved from their girlfriend. Jordan really tried to be patient, letting you be, but after you ignored their texts for two whole days and couldn’t be found anywhere, their patience finally snapped. They eventually found you asleep in the library, head slumped over a thick stack of books. Making them shake their head in disbelief as they plotted their plan of action. Jordan effortlessly lifted you from your seat throwing you over their shoulder as you protested “JORDAN PUT ME DOWN OMG”. Which they responded to with a hard slap on your ass shutting you up.
And thats how you ended up here. Sprawled out on Jordans lap currently fem presenting. Your body pressed flush against theirs, your head resting on their shoulder. “Cant believe you had the audacity to ignore me. Gonna make you regret that.” Jordan spoke into your ear making you giggle. “Aw is my baby feeling jealous of my books” you teased. “Keep running that pretty lil mouth, and your gonna get yourself in more trouble” they reprimanded, the assertive tone both turning you on and shutting you up. You nuzzled your head further into Jordans neck as their familiar addictive scent flooded your senses enticing you. Slender hands roamed your body, groping your tits through your shirt and the soft skin of your inner thighs as they placed small love bites down your neck. You sighed and leant back into the affection, craving their touch after being away from them for what felt like way too long.
"Missed this so much Jords" you moaned out as their tongue swirled around the supple skin of your neck. You let out a squeak as their hands suddenly gripped your waist flipping you around. Impatient hands ripped your dress in half in one fluid motion making u gasp in shock as Jordan sat you down on their lap now just stripped to your bra and underwear. "I bet you did considering how much you called me” they teased. “But you’re lucky that i missed you more. Else i was planning to tie you up while i touch myself and make you just sit there and watch”.
Shifting into their masc form, dimples prominent as a cocky smile was plastered on their face, before they captured your lips in a heated kiss.
You squealed as Jordan slipped their skilled tongue into your mouth, reaching up to grab a fistful of your hair deepening the kiss. Kissing Jordan in both forms were completely different experiences, but both were equally as addicting. “I want you so bad” you mumbled against their lips. Making Jordan smirk before resuming the passionate kiss. Your hands caressed the soft skin of Jordans arms, their muscles bulging under your finger tips. Jordan being as vocal as ever, groaning and moaning into your kiss as their hands settled on your ass pushing you further into them.
Your hips grinded down onto your partner's very obvious hard-on as your lips moved ferociously against theirs. You let out a disappointed hmph, eyebrows furrowing as they pull you away from them, hand still tangled around your locks.
"Fucking hell, princess, l'm gonna be doing a lot more to you than kissing tonight, stop giving me that sad bunny look," they tease, making your bruised lips contort into a grin. The snark in their voice doing nothing to help with how wet you already were.
"I want more," you remark, kissing all over their face.
They let out a deep laugh as they grabbed your hips, grinding your heat onto them. Thrusting their hips up against yours so you could feel how desperate they were for you. "I need you in me right now" you begged making Jordan laugh. "No you made me wait so long for this, im gonna make you feel how desperate i was for you this last week" they remarked grinding you against them even harder. Both of you letting out sounds of pleasure as your foreheads were pressed together, your mouths just an inch apart as their piercing gaze made you grow wetter by the second. The rough fabric of their jeans rubbed against your heat deliciously, giving you the friction your cunt begged for.
"Sit on my face," they demanded as they palmed one of your tits in their hand, fingers rubbing small circles on your sensitive nipples, drawing out a soft moan from your lips.
“Baby please just fuck me already," you grew impatient, wanting nothing more than being fucked dumb by Jordan.
"How about you shut the fuck up. It wasn't a question. If you want me to fuck you then be a good girl and listen mkay?" they tease, moving to lay down grabbing your hips, shifting you to sit on top of them.
You hovered above their face, thighs on either side of their head hesitant to put your whole weight down.
To them you were the most perfect sight, your wet glistening heat inviting them to ravage you. "Why are you acting like i don't have super strength" Jordan chuckled at your shy demeanour. Before you could respond Impatience got the best of them as they yanked your hips down to sit on their face. strong arms locking around your hips.
"Jordan, wait-fuckkk," you moan out at the sudden attack as their tongue licked a stripe across your dripping pussy. "God, you're so fuckin wet from one kiss. You really are a needy little bitch," they chuckle before diving back into assaulting your soaked folds. Sucking harshly on your clit before fucking their tongue in and out of you, the feeling sending an overload of pleasure to your brain.
"Feels so good, baby fuckkk," you squeak out, your cushiony thighs squeezing their head as your hand finds its way to grip onto their tousled hair. "Taste so fucking good been depriving me of this sweet pussy all week," they mumble against you, their tongue speeding up, making you let out pornstar-like moans.
It all felt way too much-their hot tongue ravaging you, nose bumping your clit, as their strong hands gripped your plush skin.
Their tongue circled your clit as their fingers circled your dripping hole. Your body jolted as they thrusted two fingers into you, curling them as they slammed them deeper inside you. Their tongue not slowing down as they furiously sucked on your clit, unable to hide how good you felt as moans and whimpers echoed around your room.
Their hands moved to grip your hips, grinding you against their face as they flattened their tongue against your heat, encouraging you to use their mouth to get yourself off. "Jordan... oh my god, don't stop," you whimpered, moans pouring out as your hands clasped onto the headboard of your bed, knuckles turning white as you held onto it like a lifeline. Jordan let out a mmm in response, the vibrations further enhancing your pleasure.
Hot white heat wracked through your body as you orgasmed, "CUMMING, FUCK, I'M CUMMING!" Your thighs locked around their head as your body shaked violently, back arching, tongue lolling out. Jordan's tongue didnt stop its attack as they fucked you through your orgasm, their fingers only pistoning into you harder, making you cry out. Until they finally took mercy on you and slowed their actions, placing a small kiss on your throbbing cunt
Their hands effortlessly lifted your slumped-out body off them as they layed you down on top of their chest. You wiped your juices off the bottom half of Jordans face before placing a soft peck on their swollen lips.
"I could suffocate between your legs and die a happy person. You taste so fucking good. Can't get enough of you, baby," they spoke, kissing your head. "Too bad i like you too much to kill you," you giggled out, making them smirk at your response.
"Okay, now since you’ve been such a good lil slut for me I’m gonna give you want you want. Gonna fuck you so good you will beg me to stop.” they dragged their throbbing member between your folds, making you whimper out a “please”.
You would find yourself later regretting that please, the great thing about dating a supe was the stamina they had. The bad thing about dating a supe was the INSANE stamina they had..
Jordan’s hips thrust against you at a relentless pace, slamming their cock in your pussy, hitting the perfect spot again and again. Their fingers rubbed calculated circles on your clit, your mind spinning feeling drunk off of them.”Slow down, fuckk,” you begged, your cunt already overstimulated from three orgasms.
Jordan let out a mocking laugh. “Been begging for my dick all night and now my little whore can’t even take it.”
The degrading words only made you moan louder, your nails digging into their back, making Jordan’s grin widen.
“You like when I talk down to you, hm? Gonna tie you up and keep you here forever, my personal little fucktoy. Bet you’d like that.”
Unable to speak, you just let out a hmm in response, vision blurring as tears pooled at your lash line from how good you felt. Jordan’s cruel words did nothing to help how turned on you already felt.
“Aww, poor lil baby crying over my dick,” they mocked, kissing away the stray tears.
“So mean,” you whined, tits bouncing with every harsh thrust.
“Yeah, but you like it,” Jordan shot back, leaning down to suck on one of your nipples, their tongue swirling around the sensitive bud.
Your hand gripped their hair, pushing their face further into your boobs, suffocating them with the plump flesh as they continued their deep thrusts into your sore pussy.
“CUMMING! GONNA CUM!” you yelled, hands slipping off them as your back arched, creaming all over their cock.
Jordan’s fingers didn’t slow on your clit, their cock thrusting even harder into you. Their eyes trained on your face, watching it contort into pleasure as you rode out your orgasm.
“Jordan, please slow down, it’s too much,” you whimpered, overstimulated after your orgasm.
“Don’t tell me what to do,” they spoke as they kissed your cheek, flipping you over, pushing your face into the mattress.
You arched your back, knowing the drill as Jordan slipped back inside you, both letting out a moan. They felt impossibly deeper in this position. Their dick drove into you with slow, deep thrusts, slapping your ass, watching the flesh ripple as you let out guttural moans.
“God, I love you, such a slut for me,” they groaned, spanking your soft flesh again, leaving angry red marks.
“Mm, only for you,” you squeaked, your cum coating their dick, leaving a rim of white around the base.
The sounds that filled the room were filthy, desperate moans combined with the wet smacks of their dick against your pussy. Jordan’s hand wrapped around your neck, pressing you flush against their body. Your head flung back onto their shoulder.
“Fucking love your huge cock,” you whined, tongue lolling out as drool slipped past the corners of your lips.
Jordan’s hand tightened around your neck, the lack of airflow making your mind go numb with pleasure.
“Gonna fill up this pretty lil pussy, cum with me, baby,” they groaned as they released you back onto your front, grunting while shooting hot ropes of cum into you, making you whine and triggering your own orgasm. Your walls contracted harshly around their sensitive dick, making them hiss.
“Milking me dry, fuckk,” their head tossed back at the mind-blowing sensation.
Your body went limp in Jordans arms, passing out from the intense pleasure. Further inflating Jordans ego as they carried you to the bathroom to clean you up. A proud smile on their face at how hard they wrecked you. Payback is a bitch.
a/n pls interact if you want more or a part 2💗💗💗
also lowk this story contains some of my old work mixed tg and im pretty happy with the outcome😝
link to my masterlist : https://www.tumblr.com/sparklesndglitta/802745623284776960/gen-v-smut-list?source=share
Hey guys thought i would tag everyone who liked my last jordan post, pls interact if you could. Have a great day angels. 💗🥰@flowerloves @folklorelover888 @goosegoose707 @cherry019 @miretlerans @gayflambe @fandom4life234 @bratsbri @dorothys-buddie @jrisdumb @bigseoks @brownisposts @tbsmfl @magicalmorg @wearywitch666 @raybans99 @soft-yoon @stripxclubs @twiterrdotcommm @bunnygotgame
Taglist for my beloved followers 💗 : @milkthechocolate @evy1kim @leleleyre @paleroguel @txshxaa @rabbitpanic @amethystmoonempress @drewdacherry
For A Good Time Call! || Steve Harrington x Fem!Reader
Rating: Explicit (18+)
Word Count: 14.6k
Pairing: Steve Harrington x Phone Sex Hotline Operator!Reader
Warnings: SMUT (phone sex, m & f masturbation (including pillow humping & sex toys), f!receiving oral sex, p in v sex), language, idiots in love, mutual pining, porn WITH plot
Summary: In the Summer of 1985, Steve's social standing is at an all time low. In an act of sheer, pathetic desperation, he calls a phone sex hotline. Little does he know, his dream girl from the hotline is just an escalator away.
Steve Harrington wasn’t the kind of guy who did this. He repeated it in his head as he scribbled down the phone number— fed straight to him from a local late-night advertisement. For a good time call!
It didn’t take a genius to figure out what that meant. And he wasn’t exactly able to ignore the way his dick twitched in his boxers as the commercial showed pretty girls twirling phone lines around manicured fingers, pretty smiles on their faces, eyes sultry and staring right through him.
Plus, he wasn’t actually going to call. He was just… keeping the number for his records. He’d just put it in his Rolodex and forget about it.
A week later, and he decidedly hadn’t forgotten about it. In fact, with the house empty and playboys not cutting it, it’s all he could think about.
For a good time call. He wanted to have a good time. It had been a while since he had a good time— his stupid Scoops Ahoy uniform wasn’t exactly bolstering his natural charm. Robin could say what she wanted, but he was charming and fun and everything people usually want in a boyfriend. He was just… going through a rough patch.
He retrieved his Rolodex and hurriedly flipped through, trying to remember where he’d hidden the number. Definitely not around his boss. And not around Nancy either. Tucked between Tommy and a past hookup, he found it.
He set up his pillows behind his back and got comfortable before dialing the number with uncharacteristically sweaty hands. He was cooler than this was all making him seem. He was the playboy of Hawkins High— of Hawkins in general. Phone sex was nothing.
As he dialed the number, he prepared to turn on his charm. Instead, he was led to a generic call-center script, which, after being carefully followed based on his wants and desires, took him to billing.
“It’s a flat rate of twenty for your first ten minutes. If you finish before then, it’s still twenty, alright?”
He swallowed hard. “Okay.”
“After that, it’s fifty cents per minute. An hour session will run you about $55.” Oh. It certainly wasn’t cheap. He’d spent less on dates before. “Is that alright with you?”
“Yeah,” he said after a brief pause, his mind taking a while to catch up. “Do you need my credit card?”
By the time billing was over, his anticipation had tangled his stomach into knots. He glanced at the clock, wondering if those ten minutes would fly past him as fast as he thought they would. The line trilled as he waited to be connected to his partner for the night. Jenny. Like the song.
That song was gross, anyway. But how could he say anything about it now?
The ringing stopped, and he could hear the crackle of a quiet line on the other side, the rustle of movement. Did he need to say hi first? Was trying to start a conversation weird?
“Hi,” he said, and he wondered how he could make one word sound so utterly stupid. “Jenny, right?”
“Mhmm,” you hummed. He could picture you so clearly, despite knowing nothing— one of those pretty girls in the commercials, laying on your belly on a frilly pink bed, fingernails and toenails painted a shiny red, twirling the phone cord around your finger. “What should I call you?”
He swallowed. “Do people usually give you fake names?”
“Sometimes,” you replied. “It’s not about what other people do, baby. It’s about what you want. Do you want me to call you by a fake name?”
He wrinkled his nose. What was the worst thing that could come from a stranger knowing his first name? “No, that sounds awful. No offense.” You laughed, and he felt himself relax. “I’m Steve H—“ He cleared his throat. “Just Steve.”
“Well, I’m glad that I get to talk to you tonight Steve,” you said, and just the sultry timbre of your voice made his stomach do flips. “I’m guessing this is your first time?”
He furrowed his brows. “I’m not a virgin.”
“No, baby. I mean it seems like it’s your first time calling a hotline like this.” His face burned hot as he fumbled his way through answering, oh, yeah, I guess that’s right. “So, sweetheart, why don’t you tell me what you want?”
“Uh…” he paused, trying to think of a more polite way of saying to cum while a pretty girl talks to me. “I guess I’ve just been lonely.”
“Poor baby,” you said, and he was shocked that you didn’t have even a hint of amusement or mirth when you said it. “You want me to take care of you? Help you forget?”
His breath caught in his throat, stealing his response. His dick twitched, already half-hard and sensitive. All he could manage was a tiny whimper of, “Mhmm.”
“What do you usually think about when you’re touching yourself?” You asked, and the lack of shame in your voice made heat flare in his cheeks. He’d had some shameless hookups, but most of the girls he slept with didn’t like to talk about it. “Like, what’s your favorite fantasy, Steve?”
It was embarrassing. Mortifying, actually. It was basically the plot of a bad porno or a letter to Penthouse.
Usually, it started by his pool. And a girl was there, wearing a cute, but ultimately tiny, bikini. The girl didn’t really matter. Well, she did, but it wasn’t about who she was. She could have been a Playmate of the Month, or a movie star, or a girl he was crushing on and wanted to ask out. All that mattered for the sake of the fantasy, was that she was pretty, had nice tits, and wanted him.
“Does that make me awful?” He asked, pausing mid-description to gauge your perception of him. You laughed on the other end of the line.
“God, Steve,” you said with thinly veiled amusement. “You think I give a personality and backstory to all of the people I fantasize about fucking?”
It made him feel a little better.
Anyways, there was something about summertime that just made sense to him. Skin all but steaming in the heat, the oiled up glow that came from sweaty skin. Wearing as few clothes as possible so you didn’t overheat.
You gave a nervous laugh— breathy and sweet— on the other end of the line. “You’re really good at setting the scene, Steve.” He liked to be specific. He wanted to think about tiny details like the salty taste of skin or hair that smelled like chlorine and salt. “What’s next?”
She always started by laying on her stomach, the ties of her bikini undone so she didn’t get unsightly tan lines. She would peer at him over her shoulder with wide, innocent eyes while she asked if he could apply a bit more sunscreen on her back where she couldn’t reach.
So he straddled her thighs, her skin burning up under his hands as he rubbed in the freezing cold sunscreen. Goosebumps would break out along her arms, and she’d have to arch away from the sensation, pushing her ass against him.
“Are you hard already?” You asked, and his cheeks burned hot.
“Like…” He glanced at his lap, where his cock was already straining against the fabric of his boxers. “In the fantasy or right now?”
“Is the answer the same for both?”
He let out a shaky breath. “Yeah.”
“Keep going.”
He was already impatient. Skipped right to the kissing and cut out the context and actions that led to it. Did it matter? The bikini top fell onto the ground, and she was on top of him, tits pressed into his sun-warmed chest, tongue licking into his mouth.
God, he fucking loved kissing. He’d missed it so much since he’d graduated and his social clout had depleted to fuck all. There had been dates, and messy, slow makeouts in the back of his car since walking the stage, but not one since his first shift at Scoops Ahoy. It was killing him.
She felt so good in his lap— so warm and heavy. He could have stayed like that forever— trapped beneath a pretty girl with her tongue down his throat. But he wanted more— he always wanted more.
He wanted more then. As he relayed his fantasy to this stranger in painstaking detail, he ached for more. His hand was flat on his tummy, and he shivered as he slipped it beneath the band of his boxers to take his cock into his hand. He groaned, the back of his head knocking against the wall.
“God, you’re cute,” your voice was so pretty. He throbbed in his grip, making him exhale a shuddering breath. “It’s okay, Steve. You can keep touching yourself while you talk to me. I want you to.”
“Are you sure?” He asked, his voice broken by a tiny whimper. “I don’t have to.”
“I’m sure, baby,” you insisted. “What do you do next, hm? I’m on top of you, kissing you nice and slow, grinding my hips against yours because I just can’t help myself. Tell me what you’re going to do to me.”
“I’d—“ He swallows hard, eyes shut tight. “I’d want to taste you.”
In the fantasy, his hands gripped the back of your thighs, moving you up his body so you were just above his mouth. He was suave and sexy. He’d pull the bow at your hip with his teeth so your swim bottoms fell off like they were nothing.
And it would feel so comfortable beneath you— so natural for him. He’d just barely have to lean forward to have his mouth on you, already wet so he could taste you on his tongue. He’d moan at your taste— he fucking loved the way pussy tasted, even if he got shit for it in the locker room when he admitted it— and pull you down onto his mouth so he could get impossibly closer.
It would be messy— a mix of spit and slick on his mouth and chin, making the tip of his nose shine. He’d spend as long as he wanted beneath you, pulling every noise he could from your lips, trapped between your thighs. He wouldn’t stop until you came— once at a minimum, more if he was feeling greedy.
“All this attention on little old me,” you teased. “Would you let me take care of you? I could slip off those swim trunks of yours and make you feel good.”
He had set a steady pace— hand gliding up and down his length as his fantasy continued to evolve. “Yeah,” he managed, but his voice came out strangled and desperate. “You’d put your hand down my shorts and tease me. Your hand would feel so good. Warm and soft. You’d, uh, tell me how big I am, how you wanted to feel me stretch your uh— your—.”
“My what, baby?” Your voice dripped with amusement and mirth. “My pussy?”
“Fuck.” It came out with an exhale, his heart hammering.
“You like it when girls say dirty things to you, Steve?” You asked, and he could hear your smirk. “You want me to beg for your cock so deep inside of me that I feel you in my stomach? Or tell you how warm and wet and tight I feel around my fingers?”
Steve groaned, throbbing in his grip as he worked himself faster. “Fuck, are you really?”
“Mhmm,” you replied. “Think about how good I’d feel when you finally let yourself fuck me. You were such a gentleman first, but you don’t have to be with me. I want to make this all about you.”
But he was a gentleman. Of course he wanted to get his dick wet and et cetera, but that wasn’t really why he liked sex. He liked making people feel good all because of him— hearing the pretty noises they made, watching their initial shyness melt away into unabashed desire.
A lot of the time (most of the time), he felt like a huge fuck-up. Abysmal grades (well, more around average), not good enough for sports scholarships, basically every bit the son that his parents didn’t want to have. Who could really blame him for relishing in the times when he could be good and impressive to someone other than himself?
Whatever. If he thought about that train of thought for more than, like, ten seconds, he’d lose his hard-on and probably start crying into the receiver and spilling all of his life’s worst moments. He really couldn’t imagine anything more pathetic than that.
So he thought about something else.
He thought about how he’d lay you down on a beach towel, warmed in the sun, cradled by plush grass beneath it. He’d feel awkward about shucking off his swim trunks— he always hated undressing because it felt so awkward. But you’d look at him like he was the most attractive guy in the whole world.
He was a sap, what could he say? He would hold your hand too, squeezing it with his as he lined up with your entrance. You’d be so wet that it felt slick and he’d feel proud just knowing he did that to you.
When he finally pushed into you, your eyes would be locked on his, warm with emotion, like the entire world just melted away. And how could he not kiss you? When everything felt so good and your legs were wrapped around his waist and each breath was punctuated by soft, desperate sounds?
It would feel special. With your foreheads pressed together, breathing the same air. He just wants to be as close to you as possible— needs to feel every inch of your skin, sweaty and sun-warmed, against his. He’d just… bury himself deep inside of you and grind into you. It felt more intimate that way.
He could feel himself getting close. A furrow formed between his brows as he chased his high. Moans broke up his words as he brought himself closer and closer.
“I’d— fuck— I’d rub your clit. Make you cum before I got there. It’d feel so— so fucking good too. It always feels so good. Oh god. Fuck, I’m close.”
“Go ahead, baby. I want to hear you.”
His entire body shuddered as he came, spilling messily onto his belly and chest. It felt like it lasted forever— that warm, perfect feeling of reaching his peak. He was panting as he came down, stroking himself until overstimulation made him whimper.
“Fuck… maybe I should pay you for that,” you said after a beat. “Did it feel good, Steve? Feel a little less lonely?”
“Mhmm,” he replied. He was spent— already feeling languid and heavy. “That was… Really perfect.”
“I’m glad.” You paused again, and he spent that time trying to catch his breath. “I’m on every night around this time. Like, from around ten to two. I’d like to hear more of your fantasies, maybe even act one out with you, if you’d want that?”
His heart hammered, and he felt incredibly stupid as a blush crept up his neck and cheeks. “Yeah, I’ll call you again soon.”
When you said your good nights, he laid back against his pillows. The dial tone played over the speakers as he stared up at his ceiling, spend cooling on his tummy. Leave it to King Steve to fall for someone he had to pay to talk to.
Your eyelids drooped as you manned the checkout counter at Waldenbooks, one of few stores at the mall that could actually be found vacant during a busy summer day. Last night had been a late one— it didn’t help that you couldn’t stop thinking about Steve, your mystery caller.
It felt stupid to get hung up on the type of guy who had to call a hotline to get his rocks off, especially when you knew precious little about him. You had his name, his general location, that he had a pool, and he had a nice voice.
Your bangs lifted as you blew a puff of air out the side of your lips, slowly going insane to the sound of Muzak playing softly through the speakers.
Steve… Did you know any Steve’s? Steve Crandall got into a motorcycle wreck the year after graduation and died. Then there was Steve Odell who moved off to California on some crazy tech idea he swore was going to change the world. Steven Ferris? He seemed like the type, but there was no way he owned a pool since you were pretty sure he lived in the basement of some old couple’s house. That wiped out your graduating class, at least.
From your perspective on the second floor, you had a perfect view of the fine piece of ass working the ice cream parlor. He was cute— definitely younger than you by a couple of years— and the stupid costume they had him in surprisingly did it for you. You could watch him mop up spilled sorbet all day and it’d be jerk-off material for the next week.
He had nice biceps. And thighs. Fucking hell, the things you’d do to get between those and —
“New releases?” You snap your gaze to the other side of the counter, where a woman with pink lipstick on her teeth looks at you impatiently.
You plastered on a winning smile and pointed a manicured finger to the other side of the store. “That big shelf on the left-hand wall over there,” you said with saccharine sweetness. “Anything else that I can help you with, ma’am?”
She frowned and you fought a grin. There was nothing that women pushing forty hated more than being called ma’am. You might as well have been telling them they had a foot in the grave.
The day passed by with minimal hiccups. You convinced someone to buy your favorite book, so that was a win. And you’d gotten to restock the fun pencils. You clocked out and shrugged off the vest you wore on top of your normal clothes and took your hair down from its ponytail to hang loose on your shoulders. Your perm was kind of killing you. It never sat just how you wanted, almost like it had a mind of its own.
You made your way out of the mall with a brief glance towards Scoops Ahoy, which was notably missing the hot guy you’d been lusting after since your first day on the job. With a dejected sigh, you escaped the crowded, piercingly loud mall and stepped into the hot summer air.
Most people (or, more accurately, children) were heading for the busses that would shuttle people back into the town square or their respective neighborhoods, but your car waited for you in the exclusive Employees Only lot in the shade. As you turned to head that way, you bumped straight into a tall, firm figure.
Huh, you thought. He smells like hot fudge and maraschino cherries. I like those things.
“Sorry,” he said quickly. “I thought you were headed for the bus like everyone else.”
You looked up, squinting against the sun, and felt heat flood your cheeks when you realized that it was the hot ice cream scooper. “Oh, it’s, uh—“ you stammered nervously. It was never as easy as the phone line. “I was too.” You wanted to hit yourself. What the hell were you even talking about?
His brows furrowed. “You were what?“
Fuck. “I… uh— don’t know,” you finally said, ready for the conversation to end forever. “I’ll see you around.” And you were gone. You almost missed him calling after you.
You will?
But you pretended you’d never heard it.
——
Steve called at midnight, just as you brewed your second cup of coffee of the night. You took a quick sip as the call was directed your way, already feeling much more awake in anticipation of what lay ahead.
“Hey, Steve,” you greeted, adjusting your voice to that casual, sexy cadence that you had perfected. “I was thinking about you all day today.”
Steve responded with a dismissive psh. “I’m going to pretend that’s true, because I was thinking of you too,” he said, and you could hear his grin. “I kept screwing up at work because I’d get distracted thinking about you.”
You felt heat creep into your cheeks. “Baby, you’ll make me blush.” You paused, chewing on your lip briefly. “So… what’s in the cards for tonight, Steve? What do you want to do with me?”
He paused so long that you almost thought the call had dropped, but eventually he worked up the nerve to continue. “Well, you heard my fantasy last time. This time I want to hear yours.”
You snorted a laugh. “Steve, baby, that’s so incredibly sweet, but you could hate it, or think it’s boring, and then I’ll feel guilty for wasting your money.”
“I won’t,” he insisted. “C’mon, it’ll help us get to know each other better.”
You exhaled slowly through your nose, your tummy already fluttering with thoughts of the hot sailor shelling out dollar ice cream cones with extra sprinkles on top.
Fuck.
“Alright, but if you hate it, you’ve gotta promise me that you’ll tell me to shut up and we’ll do something else.” He hummed in affirmation and you laid back against your pillows, sighing as you closed your eyes and fell into your newfound, perfect little fantasy.
“So… when I’m not doing sexy phone calls, I work a menial job,” you begin. “And normally, I’d be, like, wearing an ugly polo or vest or something with our logo on it, but for the sake of sexiness, let’s say that I’m wearing a cute little dress and my hair looks, like, perfect.”
“What does your hair look like normally?” Steve asked, hung up on the one detail that was specifically for your sake. God, you wanted to burn your local salon to the ground.
“Uh,” you paused, wondering if you should tell the truth. “So I told my hairstylist to go for Kelly LeBrock and she… you know… tried. It looks so cute sometimes, and then other times it has a total mind of its own.”
“Oh, Kelly LeBrock! She’s such a babe. I saw the trailer for that movie she’s gonna be in. Total fox. Great hair.”
You tried to fight a smile, but couldn’t. “Do you wanna talk hair routines, or do you want me to keep going?”
Steve paused like he was genuinely considering it. “We’ll come back to the hair. I could probably help you figure it out, you know. I’ve got great hair.”
You smirked. “Oh, yeah? Where?”
“Use your imagination.”
You grinned. Oh, I am.
You were stocking shelves, as usual— except this time you couldn’t reach the top shelf. Standing on your tiptoes, the hemline of your skirt inching up and up and up. And suddenly there was a presence behind you, reaching up to stock the shelf for you. He smelled really nice, felt warm pressed up against your back.
“Am I the handsome stranger in this scenario?”
You said yes, even though you were mostly thinking about your mystery sailor from the mall. God, even the stupid uniform did it for you. Maybe it was the short shorts.
In the fantasy, the two of you didn’t even talk— really, your fantasies were typically pretty straight to the point, unlike Steve’s. The plot and dialogue would get skipped, and then suddenly, your back was pressed against the ridges of the shelves and the handsome stranger was on his knees in front of you, kissing sloppily up your thighs.
Usually, you’d have some sense of control— keep your hands above the belt. It was better for you that way. It gave you a sense of separation from what was real and what was happening on the phone. And, really, you never really had a particular need to touch yourself while you were handling the calls anyway.
And yet… Your hand slipped past the elastic hand of your panties, between your thighs where you were already wet and needy from just your own imagination. You gasped into the phone, bucking your hips into your own touch.
Steve made a choked sound, crackly through the phone’s speakers. He knew exactly what you were doing.
“Getting all worked up thinking about it, huh?” He asked, and you could hear a slight rustling and movement as he got himself undressed. It was honestly puzzling that it took that long, or that he didn’t call already ready to go. “Sound so pretty.”
You weren’t even aware that you were making a significant amount of noise, but Steve had keyed into it easily, hanging onto every sigh and whimper.
In your fantasy, his mouth was absolutely fucking sinful. He would moan against your cunt, nuzzling against your clit with his nose as he lapped up your slick. It was sloppy, and the sounds he made could have made the devil himself blush a burning red. His chin and mouth would drip with the combination of your juices and his spit— his fingernails leaving crescents in your thighs from where he held you tight.
When he looked up at you from between your thighs, his gaze would be equal parts hungry and sweet. He wanted it to feel good for you because the more you get off, the better it felt for him too. When he felt you getting closer and closer, he moved his fingertip to your entrance, teasing you with featherlight grazes that gathered your essence. He pressed in, just to his first knuckle, and relished in the way you would clench around him at the smallest intrusion before he gave it to you entirely.
Despite the shitty quality of the phone, which was probably your fault, since you had owned it since at least ‘78, you could hear the slick sounds of him stroking himself to your words. And, for once, you relished in that noise across the line.
You pushed a finger inside of yourself, then a second. Most guys you’d been with got that far then jammed them in and out at a wrist-killing speed until you faked it. Your thing was always just keeping them still, pressing against the sweet spot just barely a few inches inside. Paired with the dizzying pleasure of attention to your clit, the sensation was electric and all-consuming.
It felt too good to stop, and yet you knew you needed to make it through your fantasy before you came and that precious euphoria rushed over you. Because after the euphoria came that strange sense of disgust, and you couldn’t really afford to spend the rest of the call grossed out by what you were doing.
“Fuck, anyways,” you began, your breath coming in short pants. “He— you— would take off your shorts.” Stupid, tiny, tight shorts. “And, fuck, you’d already be so hard and needy. You just wanted me so bad. You would press me against the shelf and when you push into me it’d be so easy and slick and I’d feel so full.”
Your cunt pulsed around your fingers, so close to the edge that you could almost swear you were already over it. The precipice was so nice you almost didn’t mind waiting for it. You would hear Steve fucking his hand, pretty moans and grunts passing his lips as he brought himself closer. It wasn’t really fair to leave either one of you hanging much longer.
“You’d kiss me. And it would be a little messy, but we wouldn’t care. You’d taste good, and you’d feel good. Fuck, Steve. I need to cum so bad.”
He panted into the phone and you practically mewled. God, he sounded so much better than the gross old men you usually had to deal with. “Fuck, I’m right here with you,” he managed, his voice breathy and desperate. “Let me hear you.”
Your ears rang as you came, making the world go a bit fuzzy. Distantly, you could hear how pretty Steve sounded as he came. Honestly, you’d never been one to relish in that type of thing— most guys you’d hooked up with kind of grossed you out. But, god, you’d give anything to watch him get off. Your chest heaved, rising and falling with a shiny sheen of sweat.
“So…” Steve began, sounding a little more languid and a lot more blissed out. There was a sweet, carefree quality to his voice. “Your fantasy is having sex at work?”
You rolled your eyes and fought a grin. “Hey, I didn’t judge your hot, sweaty poolside fuck session.”
”That was about making love,” He insisted. Your heart stuttered a bit. You had to admit that was sweet. “And I’m not knocking your fantasy— I just can’t even imagine someone wanting to have sex with me in my uniform.”
You grinned. “Aw, you have a uniform? I bet you look really sexy in it.”
He huffed, an annoyed groan escaping his lips. “No, I hate my uniform and I’m counting the days until I can rip it off and throw it in, like, a bonfire.”
“I can help with the ripping it off part, y’know,” you teased.
“No,” he said firmly. “No, we’re not going there, because, one, I came so much I can’t even think about getting hard again or my dick will hurt, and two, if I start having workplace fantasies about you and my uniform I’ll get hard on the job and end up on a registry somewhere.”
“Alright, alright,” you said with a laugh. “I had fun tonight, Steve. I, uh, don’t really get a lot of people asking what I like. I don’t get anyone asking what I like, actually.”
“Well, what can I say? I’m just a pleaser, I guess.”
He said his goodnights just before hanging up, promising to call again soon. You didn’t have a clear idea of when soon was. You’d had long-term customers promise a call soon that just dropped off the face of the earth. You laid there listening to the dial tone until it started to hurt your ears, then put the phone back on the receiver.
The bed creaked on its ancient springs as you got up, padding out into the hallway. Outside the big window at the end of the hall, you saw a lamp switch off across the street, making the house go dark. It felt a little comforting to know that boring old Hawkins was awake just like you were.
In the bathroom, you washed your hands with cotton candy-scented soap and tugged at your misbehaving curls. Maybe you would take up Steve on his hair tips. Before you could think about Steve any longer, your phone rang again. And though part of you wished it would be Steve, you knew that there was such a thing as too soon to be ‘soon.’
There wasn’t really a point in pouting. It was decent money. You answered the phone, put on your fake voice, and got to work.
Steve called nearly nightly for the next month. If having a backyard school wasn’t proof enough he was loaded, his ability to pay your rates nightly sealed the deal.
It wasn’t always sexual. Well, to be fair, it was mostly sexual. No matter how much you looked forward to phone sex with Steve, you enjoyed talking to him just as much. You learned about his childhood dog, Walter, and his allegedly prodigy-like swimming skills. He was CPR certified, could say his ABCs in French (and nothing else), and loved the colors red, yellow, and blue.
You told him what you could without giving too much away. That Jenny, obviously, wasn’t your real name. Your favorite color, favorite book, favorite flower. You told him that you were in college, going back in the fall. That you only started doing this gig because textbooks were expensive and you wanted to be able to feed yourself while at school.
Without meaning to, you started to care about Steve. It was probably stupid, and definitely against everything you thought you stood for. But somehow, he managed to squeeze into the recesses of your brain and set up camp there. Try as you might, you couldn’t get him out of your mind.
“Alright, little Stevie, that’s your fifth wistful sigh of the day,” Robin said, marking a tally on her palm. It struck him as weird that she was counting, but it wasn’t exactly anything new. “You’ve gotta stop or I might actually start feeling bad for you.”
His chin rested in his hand, and he looked over at her with wide puppy dog eyes. “Can you love someone you’ve never met?”
Robin shrugged. “I dunno. Probably not, why?”
He sighed again, his shoulders sagging. “What if my dream girl isn’t exactly accessible? Like… she’s impossible to find and might not even live in Hawkins. She might live in, like, Indianapolis.”
Robin’s expression— the slight squint of her eyes and downturn to her lips— told him she didn’t particularly care. But the store was dead on a boring Tuesday, so digging into Steve’s life was about the only interesting thing to do on the job.
“That sucks,” she said slowly. “How do you know this mystery soulmate?”
Steve blanched, picking at his nails as he tried to consider a reasonable excuse. “Uh… Blind setup. Very blind setup.” Robin raised an eyebrow. “I only know her number, nothing else.”
“Name?” Steve shook his head glumly. “Damn. But you think you love this girl?” Steve nodded again, but felt a little dumb. He never did things in half-measures. Never felt things that way either, so it made sense to him, but maybe it was a little crazy.
He just couldn’t stop thinking about you. He wanted to help you with your bad perm and give you advice about how to take care of it. He wanted to surprise you at your boring job with lunch and flowers. It had been a long time since he’d been this excited about someone.
A tinny beeping sound made him jolt, nearly slipping on the freshly mopped floor. Finally. He didn’t hesitate to tear off his work shirt, leaving him in the shorts and the white tee shirt he kept beneath it for this very reason— not having to walk out in public in full uniform.
He offered a quick bye to Robin and clocked out as quickly as he could. It had been only a week since Jenny had told him her favorite book, and he’d been saving up tips to pay for a copy at Waldenbooks.
There was a girl behind the counter with a messy ponytail that had half-fallen-out, music blaring from her headphones. It must’ve been a mixtape because it went from some Hall and Oates song to an older Queen one. A little disjointed, but not in bad taste. She was completely immersed in the novel in her hand, so much so that she didn’t notice his presence.
“Excuse me?” He asked, putting on a winning smile.
“What?” The girl in front of him blinked in surprise and tugged the headphones down around her neck. The music continued— saxophone and a dance beat. Staying Power. He liked that one. Once she’d paused it abruptly, she looked at him again, and he saw a glint of something in her eyes, like she recognized him.
“I’m looking for this book—“ He withdrew a piece of paper from his pocket, where he had scribbled the title down as Jenny told him about it. “Do you know if it’s in stock?”
She looked at the note, then chewed on her lip anxiously. “Mhmm.” She watched him again, like she was expecting something. It took a moment, but it clicked.
She’s the girl who bumped into him outside a month ago and said weird stuff! “Oh! You were right, I guess. About seeing me around.” He squinted, reading her name tag aloud.
“Hm?” She blinked a few times, like she was taken out of a daydream. “Oh. Yeah, sorry about all of that. I just had a long day and my brain was fried.”
He nodded. “I get that,” he replied. “Next thing I know I’ll wake up from scooping ice cream in my sleep.” She laughed at that, a smile splitting across her features. “I’m Steve, by the way.”
Her expression faltered, just the tiniest bit. Almost enough that he wouldn’t notice, especially since she corrected it just as quickly. “I’ll go grab that book for you, ‘Kay? Just… stay here.”
She disappeared into the shelves, leaving him standing awkwardly at the counter. The store was oddly empty— he would’ve at least expected some nerdy kids like Dustin to be rooting around. When she returned, she seemed more nervous than before.
“Here, just take it—“ She said, shoving a beat-up-looking copy at him. His brows furrowed as he looked down at the copy in his hands. The cover was bent and torn in places. Corners of pages were dog eared, sticky note tabs stuck out from pages, and he could see glimpses of pen and highlighter. Noticing his confusion, she elaborated. “We’re out, but I had an old copy in my bag. I’ve already read it, so you can borrow it.”
He furrowed his brows. “Is that, like… allowed?”
“Probably!” She said with a startling lack of confidence. She swallowed, giving him an awkward smile. “Just bring it back when you’re done.”
He hesitated. “Uh… okay. Thanks.” He turned to walk away when she called out after him.
“Bye, Steve.”
He wondered why that sounded so familiar.
Fuck.
“I mean… what are the odds?” You spoke aloud as you paced your room. When your reflection caught your attention, you felt, and looked, like a madwoman. “It’s not him. It’s not him, and I’m not going to worry about it.”
Five minutes later, you sat up in bed, unable to focus on the book you were reading. It was going to keep bothering you unless you did at least a little digging. But, Jesus, where did you even start with something like this?
“Hey, Rhonda?” You called, popping your head out of your room. “Do you remember any hot underclassmen named Steve from high school?”
Rhonda Finley was the prettiest girl from the class of ‘83. And it wasn’t an exaggeration either, seeing as she was voted Most Beautiful and Miss Hawkins within the same school year. The fact that you were even friends felt like a strange coincidence, but there you both were regardless.
She carried all of her yearbooks into your room, settling onto the fluffy rug beside your bed.
“You said his name is Steve?” She asked from her spot on the floor. She flipped through the old yearbook with reverence— pausing to look at photos of herself on other pages. “Steve… stevestevesteve. What about Stephen Cranston? He did the morning announcements, he was decent.”
You glanced at his picture briefly and shook your head. “No, not him,” you replied. “He’s cuter. Uh… boyish is a good word to describe him. Sharp nose and warm eyes.”
Rhonda snorted, flipping another page. “Okay, Shakespeare.”
You chewed on your lip, watching her tab through until you made a squeak of recognition. The faintest glimpse of a younger Steve in a picture of a home economics class. “Ronnie, flip back,” you said, tapping her shoulder insistently. She did as you said and you pointed. “That’s him. Younger, but it’s him.”
She squinted, reading the small caption. “Sophomore Steve Harrington cooks up trouble in Mrs. Destefano’s Home Ec class!’” She laughed and flipped until she found the sophomore class portraits. “Yep. Steven Harrington.”
You sat back on your heels. “Huh.”
She closed the yearbook and glanced back at you. “I think I went to a pool party of his once,” Ronnie said, brows furrowed as she tried to find the memory. “He was friends with that freckle-y kid that my asshole ex was friends with. God, that was the night when we got into that screaming match and we broke up for like a month before he was begging for another chance.”
Pool party? You felt a knot in your stomach that you weren’t even sure you could have untangled at that point. Was it even possible that your mystery cute phone guy was the unbelievably attractive ice cream scooper at the mall?
No chance. You weren’t that lucky. And yet… maybe a seed of hope took root in your chest. And maybe… maybe you could get him to spill enough details to prove it.
——
Steve called you around midnight. Your heart leapt into your throat as you answered, thrumming and threatening to burst from nerves.
“Hey.” His voice was soft, a little tired. “I, uh, thought about you today.”
You could picture him so clearly— his soft hair, long legs, boyish charm. “Hope I wasn’t too distracting. Were you working today? What do you do?” You dug a little deeper with the question, trying to suss out any information you could.
“Yeah,” he replied with a sigh. “I work in food service at a mall I live near. It’s nothing to write home about, I guess, but it’s temporary until I start applying for the spring semester.”
Okay, so there’s no doubt about it anymore. It was Steve Harrington, the hot ice cream scooper in the sailor suit, who was calling your line every night. The same Steve Harrington who you’d bumped into twice after your shift.
You tried to push that aside and focus on the reason for the call.
“So I was a welcome distraction, then?”
He laughed. “I can’t imagine a world where you aren’t.” He paused. “Did you, uh… think about me?”
The hope in his voice made your heart swell. “Of course I thought about you, baby. You’re my favorite caller.” You paused, debating your next move. “I’ve been thinking about getting you all needy and desperate for me all day. About hearing your pretty sounds.”
He fucking whimpered. “I’ve spent the entire night hard just waiting to call you.” You could hear him shuffle around on the other end of the call, presumably stripping off his remaining layers. “Didn’t want to be too desperate and call too fast.”
“Poor baby,” you cooed. “Can you do something for me? It’ll feel so good, I promise.”
“Mhmm.”
“Grab a pillow and lay on your stomach for me,” you instructed. Without hesitation, you could hear the staticky sound of movement on his end as he shifted. “This might sound weird, but—“
“You want me to… to like—“ he stammered nervously. “Hump it?”
You blanched, wondering if your perverse fantasies of the hot mall guy getting off had perhaps pushed him a bit too far. “I mean…. Only if you’re into it. We can do something else.”
“No,” he said quickly. “No, I’ve… I mean— I’ve done it before.”
Oh. Butterflies buzzed around your tummy as you let yourself indulge in the mental image. “Yeah? Did it feel good?”
“Mhmm,” he hummed. You could hear rustling on the phone, like he was trying to situate himself comfortably. “Just made a mess is all.”
Fucking hell. “You gonna make a mess for me tonight, then?” You asked, twirling the phone cord around your finger. He moaned in response, and you grinned. “Aw, did you already get started, sweetheart?”
He moaned out a confirmation and you grinned, letting your free hand trail down your belly and beneath the waistband of your panties. “You already sound so pretty, Steve. So good for me, doing exactly what I say.”
The breathy sounds of his pants and moans made slickness gather between your thighs. Sounded like he hadn’t been lying about being hard and desperate all night just anticipating the call. “We’re not gonna talk tonight, we’re just gonna listen to each other,” you told him.
Maybe it was unfair to him that you had the perfect mental image of him in your head since you already knew what he looked like. You relished in that knowledge as you coated your fingers in your wetness and rubbed small circles around your clit.
Steve was loud, which made you wonder if his neighbors hated him. If you had to live next door to Steve Harrington and his pornstar moans, you’d probably go crazy. You were going crazy just from being on the other end of the phone. You were louder than usual too— it was a miracle that Rhonda worked nights.
It wasn’t long before you both finished— gasping and moaning into the phone’s receiver. You sighed as you laid back against your pillows, completely sated and content as you listened to Steve’s shaky breaths.
“How’re you feeling?” You asked, fighting the desire to twirl your hair around your fingers.
“Good,” he said finally. “Gonna have to do laundry, wash my sheets. I probably needed to anyway.” He paused. “I picked up a copy of that book you were talking about. It’s actually funny, ‘cause they were out of copies apparently, but the girl behind the counter let me have hers. Like it was meant to be, or something.”
Your heart hammered. “That’s really sweet, Steve,” you said softly. “I’m sorry in advance if you hate it.”
“I won’t!” He insisted. “I read the first couple of pages while I waited to call. I’m not the best reader, though. Might take me a while to finish it, but I do like it so far.”
You were partially convinced that you were in love with Steve Harrington, despite the fact that he wouldn’t even recognize you on the street. “This might be… I mean, maybe it’s crossing a line, and I could totally get fired for even suggesting… but—“ You hesitated. Fuck it. “I want to give you my personal line. So you don’t have to pay to talk to me. It’s not fair if we’re both enjoying the conversations but only one of us is paying, you know?”
He was quiet, almost too quiet. Nerves stirred in your belly. “Is that… you know, okay?”
“Yeah, I’d like that,” he said quickly. “Let me just grab a pen.”
You couldn’t help but stare longingly down into the atrium of the mall, where Steve Harrington was sweeping crumbs off of one of the booths inside Scoops Ahoy.
“Hello?” A kid snapped his fingers a few times and you swallowed down your annoyance as you turned. “We called earlier about Ender’s Game. The guy on the phone said he’d hold three copies. It’s under Mike.”
You glanced behind you, where the books clearly weren’t. Fuck Greg for making your menial job even worse. “It must’ve slipped his mind. I can grab those for you.” The kid made a bitchy face as you stepped away from the counter and you bit your tongue to keep from saying something rude. Fucking latchkey kids.
When you returned with three copies of the book, you looked at the kids skeptically. “By the way, if you stole any of the pencils or bookmarks, my boss is going to take it out of my paycheck and I won’t be able to feed my kids.”
“It costs thirty cents to feed your kids?”
You sighed and rang them up, but they continued to loiter in the shelves while you pretended to be busy.
“There’s nothing to do,” one of them said after picking up a copy of Sports Illustrated briefly. “We should just go back to my house and play Atari.”
A red-haired girl rolled her eyes. “Lucas, we’re not playing Pong again.” She paused and glanced down towards the food court. “We could go see Steve.”
It took all your willpower not to react.
“Why do you always want to go see Steve?” Lucas asked. “It’s not like you have a boyfriend or anything.”
“She just wants to see him because she’s got some weird crush on him,” the bitchy one said. Mike? The red-haired girl blushed nearly as fiery as her hair and shoved Mike hard. “What? We all know it. You and El are always drooling over him. It’s weird.”
“He’s nice, okay? Way nicer than you are, asshole.” She shoved past the group and left on her own, leaving the other two guys to scramble after her. One kid was left behind, the one with the unfortunate bowl cut. He offered a wave before he followed after them.
When they got downstairs, you watched him greet the redhead with a smile and a ruffle of her hair. Lucas and the bowl-cut kid got a slap on the back, and the bitchy one got a half-smile that wasn’t returned.
Then he shelled out free ice cream, which was evident because none of them made a move to pay.
After they left, you watched him reach into his own wallet and cover the cost, placing the bills carefully into the cash register.
The rest of your shift was spent fawning over Steve and flipping through issues of the magazines you had on display. You felt idiotic gazing at Steve Harrington with puppy dog eyes while reading Top Ten Ways to Know if He’s Really Into You! Of course he wasn’t into you— he didn’t even know who you were, not really.
Around two in the afternoon, you were snapped out of your reverie by the sight of Steve walking through the threshold of the shop, looking around the shop before his gaze settled on you and lit up in recognition.
“Hi!” He said, nearly knocking over a carefully displayed unofficial biography of Reagan on his way over. You smiled, straightening your posture as he approached. “I wanted to thank you for the book.”
Your heart thumped. “Oh, you don’t need to thank me,” you insisted. “I just wanted to help.”
He reached into the pocket of his uniform and pulled out two coupons to Scoops Ahoy with a flourish. They advertised free ice cream in the nautical scrawl. “Does this change your mind?” He raised his brows and smiled smugly.
You rolled your eyes and grabbed them, reading the fine print. Valid only at the Starcourt Mall location on weekdays between 8am and 11am. Offer not valid in conjunction with any other deals. Offer excludes banana splits, sundaes, and the U.S.S. Butterscotch.
“Maybe,” you replied. “Is free ice cream your thing or something? I saw you give that group of kids free sundaes earlier.”
He furrowed his brows, considering it, then grinned. “Are you watching me?”
Fuck. You spluttered, shaking your head as you fumbled through a response. “No. They were here first, then talked about going to see you, and then I just…” He laughed and leaned over the desk slightly, as if testing the view.
“Oh, yeah. Perfect view from here.”
You rolled your eyes, trying to fight the heat burning in your cheeks. “So you come here to thank me with shitty coupons, and then you accuse me of spying on you?”
He shook his head as he leaned back. “Hey, it’s not accusing you if it’s true.” He was so smug. “Anyway, I’ll get out of your hair. See you around?” He looked at you expectantly until you nodded, face burning hot. He smiled, shoved his hands into his pockets, and walked out casually like he hadn’t just totally caught you creeping on him.
God, you were going to make him pay for that later.
——
Steve paced around his room as he tried to gain the courage to call you. He would have liked to say that he needed to get your number from his Rolodex, but he’d memorized it nearly the moment he put it down on paper.
He was thinking of you, but he was also thinking about the girl from the mall who seemed to keep popping up. There was something about her, the way he was drawn to her, the way she spoke, the way she looked at him. It was all so familiar and easy, like they’d known each other forever.
He didn’t know how to feel about that.
Finally, he settled on his bed, dressed only in a thin white tank top and boxers that were a size too big since he stopped working out as much. With nerves buzzing in his ears, he dialed your number and waited.
And waited. And waited. He swallowed hard, wondering if you’d given him a fake number just to be rid of him. The number went to the answering machine, and his mouth went dry.
“Hi! You’ve reached Y/N Y/L/N. I’m out right now, but leave your name and number at the beep and I’ll get back to you as soon as I can!” A beep sounded and Steve hung up suddenly. His stomach sank.
He wasn’t supposed to know your real name like that. It felt like some gross intrusion. And yet, he repeated it over and over again in his mind. Why did it seem so familiar?
On his nightstand, the beat up paperback he had borrowed stood out like a sore thumb. Oh. The book, the same book you, Jenny, had told him about. And the girl who worked there… Y/N.
It was too much, far too much to be a coincidence. He grabbed the book and opened it to look at the inside cover, where your name, Jenny’s name was scrawled inside. Because you and Jenny were the same person.
Every single conversation leading up to that point played over in his mind. The messy perm, the shitty job with the ugly polo, the fantasy about being pushed against the shelves and fucked. Oh, God. And you were totally spying on him.
It should’ve been an absolute win for him, but his stomach turned as he glanced over at the phone on the receiver. You were gorgeous and funny and smart and so sexy. Why would you want to be with someone who needed to call a sex hotline?
He could just picture the look on your face when you discovered that the guy who worked in the stupid uniform at Scoops was so pathetic that he needed to call someone to get attention.
He swallowed hard, guilt and doubt settling icy in his stomach. He put the book down, and didn’t call back.
——
Steve was sulking during his shift. Probably biting the heads off of a few too many kids who asked for a few too many samples.
“Jesus, how many times do you need to try cotton candy?” He snapped as he dug out a tiny spoonful of the pink and blue ice cream. The kid furrowed his brows up at him, puzzled by the sudden outburst.
“Uh, can I try Cherries Jubilee next?” He asked hesitantly.
Steve exhaled slowly through his nose. “No, you’re done. Out.”
The kid rolled his eyes, swore under his breath, and stomped out of Scoops Ahoy.
Robin was staring at him funny when he turned around, a mix of curiosity and amusement. “You’re totally PMSing today.”
He couldn’t manage more than a scowl in response. “Shut up.”
Robin laughed and tossed a cherry at him, which he managed to catch before it splattered against the glass of the ice cream case. He hated maraschino cherries— the artificial sweetness and unnatural color. But, hey, he could tie a cherry stem into a knot with his tongue.
He hadn’t called you for three days, which felt like the longest stretch of time in his life. And he hadn’t even seen you around Starcourt, which was both a good thing and absolutely unbearable.
Part of him wanted to just jump on the escalator and see if you were sitting behind the counter at Waldenbooks, but he knew it was better to just have a clean break. Maybe in a few months, you’d forget about that Steve guy who’d called you and he could make his move then.
The shift change hit around lunchtime, and Steve prepared for the influx of people who were getting off work on empty stomachs. As he suspected, the line stretched out the door and he was practically up to his elbows in ice cream, mindlessly scooping flavor combinations that should’ve been illegal. Until—
“Hey, Steve,” you said, standing in front of him in your ugly work polo with messy hair half-fallen out of your ponytail. “Staying busy?”
He stammered nervously and mumbled out an unintelligible response. “Ice cream?” Was all that he could manage to ask, which made him want to throw himself into the fountain right in the middle of the food court.
But you just smiled. “A shake, actually. Chocolate banana if that’s possible.” He nodded and got to work, thankful for the distraction. Your eyes followed his every movement as he made your shake, but he couldn’t let himself look at you.
Because if he did really look at you, all he’d be able to think about were the phone calls you’d had— the calls where he’d heard you cum with breathy gasps and pants and soft whimpers. And— Jesus Christ— he was thinking about it and it made him feel dizzy.
He used a little bit too much whipped cream and put rainbow sprinkles on top for God knows why, but he handed it to you with a weak smile.
“Three bucks, right?” You asked, nodding to the menu.
“Uh, you can just have it,” he said without even thinking. “On the house.”
You furrowed your brows for a moment, but smiled brightly. “Really? Thanks, Steve. I appreciate it.” You took a sip and gave a soft moan at the flavor that made a full-body chill run through him. “See you around?”
“Yeah. See you.” You gave a small wave before you disappeared into the food court. He watched you the whole way, like you were the only person in the room.
Fuck. He was hard. Like, rock hard and the stupid apron on the uniform only made it more obvious. He’d fucking pavloved himself to get turned on just by your voice.
“Robin, I’m taking my fifteen,” he said, darting into the back before she could protest. He stepped inside the walk-in freezer and propped the door with a crate of waffle cones. After about five minutes, he felt like he could actually think again.
“Fuck,” He muttered under his breath. He had to call you again.
You were sincerely considering quitting the hotline. After Steve, just listening to the other guys panting and blowing their loads on the phone was nauseating. They didn’t care to learn more about you, not the way he did. They just wanted to get their rocks off to an anonymous, sexy voice.
Then again, Steve had disappeared too. Maybe giving him your real number had crossed a line. Maybe it freaked him out that you were taking it beyond a transaction. You sighed and wrapped yourself tighter in your house coat. Rhonda always kept the AC on overdrive in the summer, which meant you needed at least two blankets to be comfortable.
When the phone rang, you picked it up without thinking, half expecting it to be Rhonda calling you to check in during her break.
“Hey,” you said absentmindedly, leaning back against your pillows.
“This is, uh— this is the right number, right? It’s Steve.”
Your heart nearly burst out of your chest at the sound of his voice. “Hey, yeah, it’s the right number,” you assured. You wriggled out of your housecoat and tossed it to the side so you could get more comfortable. “How are you? It’s been a few days.”
He sighed. “Yeah, I, uh,” he paused. “I think I psyched myself out of calling you.”
“Oh,” you said softly. “Well, I’m glad you did call. I really missed you.”
“You did?”
You laughed, letting yourself get more comfortable. “Mhmm,” you replied. “I mean, we’ve been talking everyday for a while, you know?”
“I missed you too, couldn’t stop thinking about you, even at work.” You smiled, remembering how absentminded he had seemed when you showed up in the ice cream parlor. And he was thinking about you. Not you, but still you. “I— uh— had to walk into our deep freezer to cool myself off.”
“How long has it been for you?” You asked suddenly. “Like, since you’ve had sex.”
Steve chuckled nervously. “I dunno… two months?” He paused. “Is that lame?”
“Nuh-uh, baby,” you assured. “Think it’s sweet. No wonder you’re all needy all the time. You need a nice, tight, wet pussy to sink into, hm?”
A low moan escaped his lips. “God—“
“Better than your hand, isn’t it?” You teased. “I bet you’re so desperate that you’ve been touching yourself this whole time, even before you called me. Isn’t that right?”
The closest thing you got in response was another pretty moan. “You’re big too, aren’t you?” You mused aloud, not even waiting for a response. “I know you are, you’ve basically told me in not so many words. Most girls can’t handle that, baby. It’s not your fault. That’s okay, we could take it slow, you could get me all nice and stretched for you, take your time like the gentleman you are.”
“Fuck— fuck—“ His words came out choked and desperate. You could almost picture it— the way he’d be fucking up into his hand, needing more and more.
“I bet you always have to take it real slow, huh? Gotta be careful so you don’t hurt someone. But that just means you can feel everything better, doesn’t it? Inch by inch by inch, every flutter and squeeze. And you can see on their faces how good it feels, can’t you? You can watch their eyes roll back and their mouths fall open while they cry out for you. I mean, Jesus, Steve, I bet most girls come before you’re even all the way inside.”
His hand sped up, desperate and needy, just as you’d said. You could hear it with each wet slap of skin against skin. His moans were constant, a stream of yesahgodfuckohshitahyesahfuckfuckfuck— until the prettiest moan escaped his lips, all low and deep, and you knew he’d made a pretty mess of himself.
“Bet that felt really nice,” you said while he panted on the other end of the line.
He made a weak noise, then finally managed a, “Uh-huh. Fuck.”
You laughed softly. “That’s gotta be the fastest I’ve gotten you off,” you said finally. “I like having that much power over you. It turns me on so much.”
He groaned. “Fuck, give me five— no— ten minutes. I can barely breathe right now.”
You grinned, relishing in your ability to torture him a bit after he’d teased you at work. Unknowingly, of course, but still. “I dunno if I can wait that long, Steve… I’m so wet that my thighs are all sticky.”
“God, you’re killing me.”
You couldn’t help but laugh at his dramatics. “Why don’t you lay there and listen to me? Be good and keep your hands off, alright? You already came, so don’t get greedy.”
He made a nearly pained noise. “Fine. Fine.”
A smirk spread across your lips as you let your hand move between your thighs. Really, you weren’t exaggerating that much— you found yourself slick and needy when you finally slid your panties down your thighs. Actually, you thought you’d probably have to be a statue to hear Steve Harrington panting and cumming over the phone and stay unaffected.
You could hear his breath catch with every soft moan and whimper, and maybe you got mean and held the phone near your tummy, so he could hear just how wet and messy you’d gotten as you steadily fucked yourself with your fingers. When you got desperate enough, you held the phone against your ear once more.
“I dunno, Steve… I don’t think my fingers can cut it,” you said, exaggerating the pouty tone of your voice. “I wish you were here to take care of me.”
He groaned, low and muffled. You had a feeling he’d thrown an arm over his face. “You’re so unfair.”
A smile spread across your lips at his words. “No, baby. What’s unfair is that I’m laying here all alone, feeling so empty and needy, and you’re not here to make it all better.” You reached into your nightstand, pulling out the dildo you’d bought for your twentieth birthday. “‘S okay, I can take care of myself just fine. You ever been to a sex shop?”
It got quiet on the line, and you could nearly hear the gears turning.
“N-no.”
You raised a brow. “Really? But you know what they sell, don’t you?” You paused until he hummed a soft uh-huh. “It’s only fair that I get to use a toy to fill myself up since you can’t do it for me, right?”
“Y-yeah, wanna hear you do it.”
You grinned. “Patience, baby. Gotta get it wet first so it glides in nice and easy.”
Blowing a rubber dick wasn’t how you’d envisioned ending your day, but— what can you say?— spontaneity is the spice of life. You made sure he heard every wet pass of it between your lips, every exaggerated gag as you took it into your throat, the messy smack of your lips. It tasted like a tire and dish soap, but the desperate, restrained sounds he was making made it all worth it.
Your eyes were watery when you finally pulled the toy from your mouth, certain you’d adequately worked him up for the time being. Plus, you were worked up just as much, if not more— you wanted to just fuck yourself into oblivion already.
Instinctively, your thighs fell farther apart as you moved the toy between your legs. You let the tip tease your entrance, only a little, before you began to push it inside. A soft moan fell from your lips as you finally got the nice, full feeling you’d been dreaming of.
You laid there for a moment, letting your body adjust to it, reveling in it. With your free hand, you slowly circled your clit until your cunt fluttered around the intrusion.
“Feels so nice,” you sighed, lips brushing against the mouthpiece of the phone. You felt drunk and hazy with desire. “Like I’m so close already that I can taste it.”
“Make yourself come for me,” he practically begged. “Wanna hear it.”
You moaned at his words, but shook your head. “Can’t yet. I wanna make this last.”
Time felt a little hazy as you kept working the toy in and out, slow and deep. Occasionally, you’d brush against your clit just right, or the toy would find a nice spot inside of you, and your entire body would tremble with need.
Steve’s breath came in pants over the phone, but you couldn’t tell if he had broken and actually started to touch himself. You kind of hoped he did, even if you wouldn’t say it.
Eventually, you came without warning— the build-up of it all made it impossible to avoid. Once you started over that edge, you couldn’t crawl back even if you’d wanted to. Moans fell from your lips as you succumbed to your orgasm; every nerve was like a live wire. When it finally came to be too much, you slipped the toy out and relaxed onto your bed with a contented sigh.
“Are you still alive?” You asked, quiet crackling over the phone.
“Uh… yeah,” he replied, a little distracted. “Have you ever come without having to touch yourself?”
You laughed softly. “Once. I read in Cosmo that some girls can get off just from playing with their tits. Took a while, but I eventually got there. Why?”
“I just, uh… listening to you, all the noises and hearing how wet you were… I guess that was all it took.” He sounded so embarrassed, but it was the cutest fucking thing you’d ever heard. You could imagine it so clearly, his cock pulsing against his twitching stomach, cum making puddles around his navel.
“That’s the sweetest thing I’ve ever heard,” you said with a smile. “You’re probably exhausted, huh?”
He laughed a bit. “A little, but I can stay up and talk, if you’re free.”
Ever the gentleman, Steve stayed up another hour to talk about whatever you could think of to keep the conversation running. The new collection at The Gap, whether or not he planned to see Back to the Future, his favorite music got him talking for half an hour at least. Finally, you were yawning and beat.
“Steve, baby, I should go to sleep,” you said, almost apologetically.
“That’s okay. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
You froze, brows furrowing. “What?”
“I’ll see you tomorrow,” he repeated, sleepily. “At the mall.”
“Um… night,” you said quickly, panicking slightly as you hung up the phone.
Steve had mopped the same spot on the floor five times during his shift, all while sparing fleeting glances towards Waldenbooks, where you were immersed in a magazine or a book. Always doing anything but looking down at him.
Which was good… maybe? He couldn’t quite decide.
He hadn’t been thinking when he said that on the phone. But he was sleepy, and his brain was a little foggy, and then he’d gone and doubled down.
As soon as he hung up the phone, he remembered that he had given his real name, and you knew he worked in food service, and you knew he wore a stupid uniform. That narrowed it down really easily.
So he spent his shift in a constant state of dread and panic, waiting for the other shoe to drop.
By the time the mall was closing, he had occupied himself with wiping down tables. He let Robin head home and pulled out his Walkman to keep him company. Since working at Starcourt, he made a pretty sick collection of tapes that wound up in the lost and found. This one was a metal mix, which typically wasn’t his thing, but was growing on him.
He didn’t realize you were standing over him until you rapped twice on the table, drawing his eyes up, up, up until they were locked with yours. He scrambled to pause the tape and stand up, adjusting his stupid uniform as an embarrassed blush grew on his cheeks.
“Hi,” you greeted. Your Waldenbooks vest hung loosely on your form, right on top of a pink polo.
“Hi,” he echoed. It was quiet for a second, as he tried to think of what to say, and as you scrambled for the words you’d been practicing all day. “I’ve known it was you for a while.” The words escaped him before he could stop himself, and then he just stared at you, completely mortified.
You laughed, covering your face for a moment as heat flooded your cheeks. “You knew? I didn’t even— I mean, I didn’t realize. Because I knew it was you calling. For a while, actually.
He grinned, leaning forward. “So… the guy you said you wanted to… against the shelves…?” When you ducked your head and looked away, he smiled like the cat who got the cream. “No way. You were totally perving on me, even before!”
“You had to walk into a deep freezer to cool off because you were thinking about me, perv.” He laughed, and you wanted to kiss him so badly it freaked you out a little. “So… What do we do now? I mean, now that you know who I am, and I know who you are, and we’re going to keep running into each other.”
Your poor cuticles were going through the wringer— red and stinging where you picked at them due to nerves. There was nothing you wanted more than for him to just sweep you into his arms like some kind of fairytale and promise his undying devotion. Or just say he wanted to date you. Whichever.
“I could take you on a date,” he said sheepishly, scratching at the back of his neck. “I mean, if your type is total pervs who spend most of the week in sailor uniforms.”
Oh, you had plans for that sailor uniform. You stepped forward and planted a kiss on his cheek. “I think you just might be in luck.” He turned his head, just slightly, so he could capture your mouth with his.
The kiss was sweet, at first. Slow brushes of his lips against yours. They tasted sweet, like he’d been wearing lip smackers or something. Or maybe he’d been sneaking samples of the ice cream. He pulled you closer and you gasped, offering him the perfect opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth. You moaned softly at the feeling of your tongue licking against his.
He picked you up easily, sitting you down on the table he should’ve been cleaning. Your legs wrapped around his waist, your arms around his neck. It was easy to lose yourself in the hungry, desperate way Steve kissed. You could’ve stayed right there in the middle of Scoops making out with him until the mall opened in the morning, and still not have found the motivation to stop.
A bright light startled you back into reality, shining directly in your faces. You and Steve squinted in the general direction, as Starcourt security stomped your way.
“Hey! Get the fuck home,” He shouted, with equal amounts of exasperation and annoyance. He clicked off the flashlight and walked away with a huff and an eye roll, leaving you and Steve alone.
Steve’s cheeks were flushed pink with embarrassment as he stepped back, but he still wore a dopey grin on his lips. You hopped off the table and adjusted your skirt with a light laugh.
“That was nice,” You said as you tucked a loose curl behind your ear. “I should leave you to it, I guess. Before we both end up in mall jail.”
He shook his head quickly. “No! I mean, you could hang out here until I’m done. I just have a few more tables to clean and chairs to stack, if you want to—” He trailed off, looking at you expectantly.
A sly grin spread across your features. “What? Are you trying to go home with me or something?” He stammered nervously, that same, cute blush growing on his cheeks. Before he could say anything, you took a step closer and peered up at him. “Because if you are, I might tell you that my roommate works nights at Hawkins General, and we’d have it conveniently all to ourselves.”
He swallowed, then nodded. “Yeah, that’s what I’m trying to do.”
You sat in the booth nearest to the entrance of the parlor, flipping through a magazine you’d grabbed from work. Occasionally, you’d sneak tiny peeks of Steve bent over a table to wipe it down, uniform stretched tight over his ass, and grin behind the pages.
He got everything locked up in what he claimed was record time, flashing a smile as he closed up shop behind the two of you.
”Do you work tomorrow?” You asked, as casually as possible as the two of you approached your cars in the employee lot.
“Yep. Afternoon shift,” he explained.
“I’ll drive you. We’ll carpool tonight.”
The car ride was relatively tame, a few stolen glances at stoplights at most. When you brought him inside the house, your phone was ringing off the hook. You apologized and ushered him into your room, where, true enough, the spare phone you used for the hotline was ringing nonstop.
“Sorry, let me just…” You grabbed the phone and hung it up once, before taking it off the receiver completely. “There. No interruptions.”
Steve grinned, surveying your room carefully. The set of pom-poms from high school on a shelf, a stack of Cosmopolitan magazines, the chair full of your laundry— fuck, you should’ve definitely taken a moment to speed clean before letting him inside.
“So… what do you say we pick up where we left off?” You stood on your tiptoes and pecked his lips chastely before guiding him towards your bed. As soon as he sat down, you wasted no time in crawling into his lap and kissing him with all of the pent-up frustration of weeks of phone calls.
You kissed him for so long you’d have to come up panting for air, before diving right back in. His hands— Jesus, you’d never noticed how big his hands were— were splayed out over your hips at first, but had moved down to grab your ass, encouraging each movement as you rocked against him.
Without breaking the kiss, you shrugged off your work vest, so it fell into a heap over the side of your bed. He pulled back, chest heaving slightly as he caught his breath. His lips were swollen from use and spit-slick. His eyes moved from the vest on the ground, then back to your eyes. A tiny laugh escaped you before you pulled off your top, then your bra.
“This still okay?” You asked, as you stood briefly and tugged down your denim skirt. The sound of your voice felt almost foreign in the quiet room, while he took in the sight of you in nothing but a pair of panties.
“God, more than okay,” he assured, before pulling you onto his lap for another heated kiss. This kiss was needier— you could feel it in the hungry way he licked into your mouth, and the feel of him hard beneath you. Tiny gasps pushed past your lips as you rocked against him just right.
He moved his hands from you only to pull off his work shirt, and the white shirt he wore beneath it. Your hands immediately went to his chest, running through the chest hair he’d hidden beneath the uniform. How the fuck did he manage to walk out of his house without being immediately pounced on by every woman in a five-mile radius?
He placed one final kiss on your lips before pulling back and meeting your gaze. As earnestly as you’d ever, he asked, “Can I go down on you?”
Yes. Fuck, yes. Oh my god, yes. “Sure, if you want to.”
He smiled wide. “Yeah? Just relax for me, alright?” He shifted the two of you, so you were lying on the bed and he was on top of you. He planted a chaste peck on your nose, and you wrinkled it in reaction.
You kissed him one, fleetingly, before letting him kiss down your chest and tummy. He parted your thighs and carefully positioned himself between them. You met his gaze and felt your stomach somersault. He leaned in, pressing a kiss to the damp fabric of your panties.,
“Fuck,” he mumbled against you. “You’re soaking for me, huh?” And there was that cocky grin you’d seen at the mall before. You had to lie back and put a hand over your eyes, because if you thought about that fucking smug expression for too long, you’d cum untouched.
He ran his tongue over the fabric of your panties, tasting you through the saturated satin once, twice before he pulled them down your legs. And he fucking moaned like a man starved at the sight of you.
Heat burned in your cheeks as you felt him spreading you open, and at the slick, wet sounds of your own arousal. “You’re so pretty.” And then his tongue was on you, lapping up your juices, savoring all of you.
“O-oh, fuck—“ Your moan came out like a sob as his nose brushed against your clit, making your thighs tremble. He moaned against your cunt, nuzzling deeper like he couldn’t get enough.
In retrospect, he had brought up how much he loved eating pussy a lot on that first call. Your hips bucked slightly, torn between chasing the feeling and overstimulation. His lips would wrap around your clit and suck softly before he would go back to lapping at you, his tongue parting your folds and teasing your entrance.
“St-Steve!” You cried out, fingers tangling in his hair. The slightest tug on his locks made him moan against you, which made your toes curl.
Your moans became pitchy and breathless as he brought you closer and closer to the edge. All of your muscles were wound up tight, itching for release.
All it took was a little bit of eye contact and you were done for. You sobbed out a moan as he lapped up your release— each lap of his tongue sending electricity up your nerves. When he finally relented, you were shaking with aftershocks and giggling.
“Something funny?” He asked with a grin as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.
You sighed and spared a glance over at him. “I’ve been dreaming of that happening since our first call.” He grinned as you pushed him onto his back and straddled his hips.
“Did it meet your expectations?” He asked, swallowing nervously as you shifted to accommodate your hand between the two of you. His eyes fluttered shut as your hand slipped beneath his work shorts and boxers to grasp his cock in your hand.
You gave a slow, experimental stroke of your hand and nodded. “Two thumbs up.”
He swallowed hard as you removed your hand to completely undress him, leaving you both completely naked. You spit into your hand and wrapped it back around his length, holding eye contact as you jerked him off.
There was something so surreal about the entire situation— having him beneath you, warm and pulsing and slick in your hand. Each time your thumb brushed along the head of his cock, he cried out with the prettiest moan.
“W-wait—“ he said quickly, a look of panic in his eyes. You stilled your hand as he looked at you, a pretty blush painting his cheeks. “I’m not gonna last.”
You bit your to keep from grinning like an idiot. “That’s okay,” you said with a smile. You reached into your bedside table and retrieved a condom. “Do you want to, uh, go all the way?”
He nodded quickly. “Yes. Yes, please.”
You tore open the packet and rolled the condom on. “How’s that feel? Alright?” He gave a dorky thumbs up, which made you laugh. You leaned down to kiss him once more and wondered if you’d ever get tired of that feeling.
You reached between the two of you and guided his tip through your folds, coating it in your arousal until you grew too needy and lined him up with your entrance. It was a stretch, even though he’d gotten you plenty worked up with his mouth. You sank down slowly, one hand splayed against his chest to keep you steady as you took in inch after inch.
The sounds that escaped him as you lowered yourself onto him were so pornographic you thought he should be the one working the hotline instead. Desperate panting moans slipped past his full lips as his hands clawed at your hips.
“Fuck,” he moaned, eyes half-lidded as he watched you. “That’s it. You can take it.”
The mouth on him. You moaned softly as you finally settled onto his lap and he was fully sheathed within you. You stayed still, letting your body adjust to and relish in how full you felt.
“You look so pretty right now,” he said, reaching up to brush a messy hair from your face. You laughed softly as your cheeks warmed, and a funny fluttering in your chest nearly stole your breath.
“Says you,” was all you could manage to say back. You were hyper-aware of the feeling of him within you, of each flutter of your walls around him.
You gave an experimental roll of your hips and his head fell back, against the pillows, exposing the column of his throat. You relished in the way he looked beneath you— debauched and needy.
It was easy and slow at first. Each time you moved, you would lower yourself back down slowly, letting him savor the feeling of you, warm and wet and needy. He groaned each time you settled back on his lap, eyes hooded with lust as he looked up at you.
You gave a lazy smile as you looked down at him, moaning each time his cock brushed against your sweet spot. “Can I go a little faster?”
He nodded, eager for whatever you could give him. Your nails raked against his chest as you began to ride him in earnest, the back of your thighs slapping against his as you bounced on his cock.
Your head fell back as you rubbed at your clit with your free hand. Soft moans spilled from your lips as you relished in the culmination of all of your fantasies. Because he was there, splayed out beneath you like a fucking pornstar, and you had him all to yourself.
His fingers dug into the plush of your hips as he began meeting your thrusts halfway, fucking into the heaven between your thighs.
Your eyes rolled back as he fucked himself deeper and deeper, stealing your breath with each thrust. “Close,” you practically squeaked out. Red marks stood out against the freckles skin of his chest where you searched desperately for purchase.
Steve’s hair was stuck to his forehead, tacky from exertion. “Need you to cum for me,” he managed between pretty moans. “Wanna feel you cumming around me.”
You whimpered at his words, riding him harder as your orgasm hit like a tidal wave. A fucked-out moan escaped you as you collapsed against his chest, hips weakly stuttering as Steve continued fucking up into you. With your pussy gripping him like a vise, he could only manage a few good thrusts before he came with a groan.
You laid there on top of him as you caught your breath, wearing a stupid, giddy smile as he traced mindless shapes onto your back. His face was buried in your neck, where he left sweet, wet kisses. After a while, you slid off of him and sighed, missing the way it felt when he was still buried inside of you. You did your best to clean yourself off with the towel hanging from your bedpost as Steve tied off the condom and tossed it in the bin.
“We’re not just…” Steve began once you were both comfortable in your bed. He let the words linger for a moment before he shook his head. “Never mind.”
You turned on your side to face him, adjusting your blankets for a bit of modesty. “We’re not just fucking? That’s what you’re asking, right?” He nodded quietly. “It was nice, but no, that’s not all I want.”
He grinned. “Yeah? You wanna be my girlfriend? I totally pulled a cougar.” His stupid grin made you roll your eyes, but you couldn’t keep a matching smile off of yours.
“You’re so annoying,” you said, not giving him a second to react before your lips were on his again. You pulled back and placed a chaste kiss on his lips.
In the morning, you woke up in his arms as sunlight crept through the window. You squinted at the sun, then back at him. “Still want me to drive you to work?”
“No way,” he said, muffled against the column of your throat. Soft kisses peppered against your skin, making you giggle and arch into him. “I’m calling in.”
you had andrew on the floor. you loved teasing him like this. he knew you had no intention of letting him cum, but he was still hoping. his eyes were welling up as you gave him open-mouth kisses, a hand on his hard and needy cock.
embarrassed, andrew turned his head to the side, buried into his arm. you thought you heard him whisper, 'that feels so good mommy,' then in a louder, broken voice, said, 'please don't stop'. 'i can't hear you,' you replied. 'i said please don't sto-.' andrew's face was flushing red and he was starting to wiggle his toes, a sign he was getting close to coming. 'i'm gonna cum,' andrew said in a small voice, sniffing back tears. 'no, you're not,' you said simply. 'no i am, i'm gonna- i'm gonna c- i'm cum- noooooo,' he cried, as your fists completely left his large, rock hard cock, which waved uselessly in the air. the tightening in andrew's tummy faded as fast as it had risen.
it was huge, and watery precum was already leaking out of the angry red head. with your index finger, you spread it around the mushroomy head. he watched you lean down and drool on it, using your spit to run your tight fist up and down it slowly. 'yeah... yeah....' andrew moaned in a soft, more high-pitched tone than his usual rough voice. you knew he wouldn't last long. he never did. you had moved down, using your other hand to rub the base, your hands working in tandem, his cock was that big. you started to twist slightly, paying attention to the large vein running down the underside of his thick cock with soft nails, and andrew's breathing started to hitch.
'no!' andrew whispered turning his head back into his arm, whimpering. he was definitely crying now. 'oh BABY,' you sighed. 'what am i gonna DO with you?' andrew began humping the air, his hips hitting against nothing, desperate for some relief. watching his hard cock bounce up and down, slapping against the bare skin of his stomach, was such a turn on. your own wetness was leaking through your panties. you leant down, humming, and licked the tip of his cock. the mushroomy end was solid and hot, and there was more precum made for you.
he wanted this so badly. andrew stiffened and bit the inside of his bicep. you swirled your tongue around the edge of it, covering the whole end of it, which filled your mouth. you licked the hole and then made to put the tip of your tongue in. andrew groaned so loud it sent an instant zip to your clit. you shifted to try and hide how much this was turning you on. you began doing little kitten licks, slowly moving your head around to make sure all of his spongy mushroom was covered in your tiny little kitten tongue. 'ngunghhh,' andrew garbled, clutching his thigh. 'what's the matter?' you ask through a mouthful of cock.
andrew doesn't reply. you suck a bit harder now, hollowing your cheeks, and making smacking noises as your wet, drooling mouth pulled him out and back in again. andrew's toes started wiggling again and the fingers on his thigh squeezed tight, the skin underneath turning white. he was getting close but trying to hide it from you, so he could sneakily try and cum. as if you didn't know his telltale signs by heart. you take his cock in deeper, as andrew knew you would. your lips wrapped around the hilt, your nose in a thatch of auburn curls, his public hair tickling your face. it smelled amazing.
the head of his cock began to kiss your tonsils and the spongy part at the back of your throat. you tried not to gag as andrew began to thrust a little, coughing and heaving, covering his cock in more spit. the sight and sound of you choking made andrew's hips buck in those little circles and he was trying to moan quietly, 'aaahh.. aahhĥhhHhh.. oh yeah - yeah,' smiling as he moaned. you let him think you didn't know and tried to swirl your tongue around his massive cock, currently blocking your airway and making you choke. 'mommy, mmmm, fuck, momm-' you sucked in your cheeks as he continued to fuck your throat. 'oh, take it mommy.. take my cock mommy..'. remembering himself, he fell silent. his fists clenched and unclenched. 'look at me,' you whispered. as he looked down and made eye contact with you. as his back arched and he began to cry, his balls tightening and the tingling starting from his tummy, you pulled his cock out of your mouth so fast and just left it, completely untouched, standing facing the sky in open air again. andrew cried out, his cock twitching wildly.
he had started to moan, his orgasm taking over, his cum halfway down his length to spray down your throat. this all stopped immediately and the feelings receded. andrew cried out in frustration, fist falling to the floor miserably, tears running down his face. 'awww,' you teased in a mock baby voice, pouting at him. 'did baby boy not get to feel good? did you want to spray nice feelings from your naughty place?' you shook your head as you met his eyes. 'i'm so disappointed that you couldn't do it.' andrew cried out. 'please,' he begged, 'i'll do anything.'
'anything?' you raised an eyebrow at him. 'i wanna feel good. it feels so fucking good when you touch me down there, i want to feel like i'm having the best sneeze'. you moved over him and straddled his legs. 'okay, if you cum within the next two minutes, i'll let you finish properly.' andrew nodded his head, eagerly sitting up to touch you. 'noooo,' you chastised him. 'you can't touch me.' andrew shook his head wildly. 'two minutes,' you reminded him.
andrew started crying. he needed to come so badly and he didn't think he could do it. he pathetically raised his hips in the air, desperate for some kind of friction and finding none. you were leaning over him and he focused in on your tits. 'mommy,' he wavered. 'that's right,' you nodded. 'mommy and her big, squishy tits. soft, warm skin. hard nipples to suck on. do you want to suckle me, andrew?' 'oh fucking-' 'one minute.' 'no,' andrew cried, tears rolling down his face. he wasn't going to make it.
'nonononono,' he garbled. 'you feel so good when you fuck me, andrew,' you sighed. 'no, no touching,' you place his outstretched palm back onto his bare stomach. 'when you first push that fat, hard head into my tight, wet, little hole,' andrew's moaning was picking up speed. 'i can't think of a better feeling. and when i'm bent over, and you hit that squishy spot, it's insane when i let go all over your big cock, cover it with streams and streams and streams.'
'oh god, oh god, oh fuck,' andrew's words slurred together and a quick check showed his eyes rolling back into his head. 'are you going to cum for me, baby boy?' you ask. 'uh-huh,' andrew nodded pathetically. 'you're making me feel so nice.. i feel so good... down there, ugh-uggg-ghhhhh...' his cock was twitching wildly. 'i'm - i'm- oh god i'm cumming!' 'time's up,' you say, and grab the hilt of his cock so hard.
'noo!' andrew only has time to say before his orgasm hits him. sort of. he is on the edge of the wave, slightly teetering, twitching, but it wouldn't take him over. your fist wouldn't let it. andrew makes a sort of a strangled, 'aaahhhhhh,' noise and shudders. a half-orgasm happened, which offered no relief, not without his cum spurting upwards in a fountain and landing all over his stomach. you were smirking as andrew burst into tears.
he needed to cum so badly, he needed to spray, to feel helpless, to feel good. 'oh well,' you sigh in mock disappointment, as andrew looks at you with wide, wet eyes. 'you can only try your best next time.'
you were sat next to him now, watching tv. andrew kept shifting uncomfortably. you could see how hard he was again, straining against his jeans. you casually reach over for the remote as he flinches, and then gently rest your hand on his crotch. andrew moans and lifts his hips desperately up to meet you for just a little more contact. he needed some pressure, some relief. his large cock was straining against his jeans, the outline of his bulge so visible you could make out the mushroomy head. you gently run your fingers along the stitch of the zip. his cock twitches in response, trying to jump upwards to slap his stomach, but completely restrained by thick denim. andrew made a little strangled cry he tried to cover. you continue running your finger nail against the seam, under his full, heavy balls which crinkled and tightened under your touch.
your nails continued along their journey slowly, too slowly, towards his ass. andrew's breathing hitched and he let out a 'hnnghgh' noise. you pulled them further along and andrew's breathing stopped. you found a groove at the base of his ass and turned the pad of your in a circle, slightly aimed up. andrew's response was feral. you crooked your finger, ever so slightly so the fabric dimpled, and andrew cried out it felt so good, and in anticipation of what you might do. you pulled it back along the seam to the base lf his cock and andrew seemed to relax a little, almost disappointed.
his eyes started to well. he couldn't take this, he really couldn't. maybe he didn't deserve to cum? you gently whispered 'shhh, shhhhh' as you excruciatingly slowly undid his jeans zip, the metal teeth chattering against each other. 'get out of your head'. andrew's breathing sped up again, and with your index finger, you ran some of the length of his cock, feeling the vein along the underside of only about a quarter of it. andrew's cock sprang in response and andrew let out a stifled groan. 'that feels so fucking good. that feels so good', he mumbled to himself.
you stopped and started to zip him back up. andrew made a cry of frustration and moved his hips in a circle but didn't try to stop you. you slowly got onto the floor as if to mock pick something up. andrew moved forwards eagerly, to take advantage of you. it wasn't anywhere near the top, still squashed painfully like a tent.
he leant against you and let out a huge, guttural moan. he pushed the tent against you, just between your ass cheeks, sliding his length, but not the needy head, along between your fat roundness, enveloping him, once, twice, then a stuttering done. if he had his jeans off, it would have hit your shoulders. andrew cried out, finally some relief after the delicious torture, 'fuck, i'm coming, i'm fucking c-cominggggg,' and you could hear the splatter. fountains of hot cum spurted out of him as andrew 'aaah, aaa-aaa-aaaahed.' with one last, pathetic spill of watery milk, barely worth emptying, he leant back, spent, his softening dick lying in a pool of thick wet cum in his pants. the dark stain in his jeans was visible almost immediately, across his crotch and starting to smear down his inner thigh.
'i didn't even have to touch you,' you smirked, as andrew lay back against the sofa, chest heaving. you licked the length of his jeans outer zip, the wetness already breaking through onto your tongue. then you get back onto the sofa, under his arm, and just let him sit in it.
