Our Sick Story, Thus Far (M)
Teddy Bear—> (yes you have to read this first)
pairing. Jeno x female reader x Haechan x ?
genre. college AU, pwp, dark fic, angst, M/F
wc. 29k
warning. profanity, bullying, forced relationship, cheating, dr*g use mentioned, blackmailing, coercion, possessive/obsessive behavior, lies deceit manipulation etc, is anyone in this story actually a good person??(the answer: no), stockholm vibes. smut warnings under cut. minors DNI.
now playing. Our Sick Story(Thus Far)//Atreyu
a/n. it’s been a long time coming and I hope the wait was worth it for this story that I had no business writing to begin with😅
dedicated to the messages I received letting me know Teddy Bear made them wanna throw up. you are going to love this one! and @notncdeeh for consistently bothering me to finish writing this💚
smut warnings. dubcon/noncon elements(DO NOT read if that makes you uncomfortable. thanks.), Jeno refers to y/n as ‘Teddy’ often, no teddy plush shall be spared, dacryphyilia, humiliation, degradation/praise, oral, anal, rimming, finger sucking, sub/dom dynamics, switching, hair pulling, slapping, protected and unprotected sex, breeding, impreg kink/forced pregnancy, cock warming, hidden camera use, choking, mind break, surprise character smut(👀).
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Art class had taught you more than expected when you chose the extra curriculum for ‘stress relief’ as the school’s counselor put it, emphasizing how fast you will burn out if you don’t allow yourself one light work subject.
‘Paint me something pretty today.’ Jeno smirked near the entrance, stepping backward to keep his gaze on yours until he could no longer see you from the hallway.
Blue, sky blue.
Jeno’s favorite color is sky blue, which he mentioned one day when grabbing you after class. The only one of your courses he’d been unable to transfer into because it’d interfere with his degree.
‘It’s a shame we can’t be together all day.’ Jeno traced a faded spot along the column of your throat while you studied color theory. A mixture of blue and yellow bruises speckled with red bits of gnawed skin.
Art class has taught you many things, one being- you aren’t very artistic, and that much like the blue sky had turned darker earlier these days, so had your mind.
Jeno rained trickles of blues into your favorite colors, he muddied a bright day, stained pools of misery around your world.
Sky blue is an ugly color, you think, because even as he smiled with an arm slung over your shoulders walking through the first drops of November rain; Jeno robbed hues of yellow and gold from the sun. He gathered red from the last days of summer heat and stormed through your life on a cloud tainting everything a miserable shade of black.
Art class had really become your everyday sanctuary, a time away from him. Time to pretend that Jeno had never invaded your days.
A time to daydream from aw you hid behind a canvas, imagine ‘what if’, and admire a student from across too focused on his work to spare you a glance.
and when Jeno would arrive ready to prance you through the halls as his play thing, his little toy, you couldn’t help but wonder..
In another life you could have fallen for Jeno. You could have loved him, developed a healthy relationship, formed fond memories to reflect upon together in the future.
But in this life, you hate him.
Hate may be a strong word, but as you sit across from the bane of your existence, you know one thing is certain.
You hate Jeno Lee.
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Perhaps it is to your detriment that Jeno has made you feel nothing, unless numbness can be classified as an emotion.
By the round of omnipresent gasps and whispers that reach your ears each time you enter a room with him, it’s hard to not fixate on the way his presence alone stirs the first rumble of what can only be classified as a concrete shattering earthquake. Maybe that’s the problem, because even when Jeno’s arms are wrapped around your waist from behind, leading you through the cafeteria to sit at a table alone with eyes of vultures ready to pick your flesh apart inch by inch; you cannot find it in yourself to care. Not anymore, not even close, not even a little.
“I like it when you wear your hair down.” Jeno whispers, fixing your loose locks to one side. “It’s really cute how you think this is enough to cover yourself and hide from me.”
Bony fingers trace patterns of sadness atop the marks he’s drawn along your throat. “Pretty.”
Cute. Pretty. Meaningless compliments, because how could they hold any meaning pouring from a soul filled with nothing but darkness.
Even as you sit pressed to his side in the back of the library, you feel sick, scribbling a mental note to wear your hair up more often. His compliments replay like a broken record, scratching the way up your thigh to a cut between the juncture of your knee. Your teeth clench as you claw your jagged nails up your inner thigh, attempting to make the mental gash real just to feel something. Dig the wound deeper, much like Jeno’s sweet words strike similar to the tip of a blunt tip knife; aimed recklessly at your soul slicing through inch by inch. Cutting you open until your blood has been drained of all life.
His eyebrows furrow, gaze following along to your hand and slapping your wrist away. “What the hell are you doing?”
“I need to use the restroom.”
“Great!” Jeno pipes up, grabbing your bag. “So do I.”
“Jeno..”
Standing up, he smiles expectantly, lip quirked to one side daring you to speak out loud against him. It’s useless, you know better by now.
“Can we make it fast this time? The bell will ring soon..” you mumble quietly, walking alongside him toward the exit.
“Worried you’ll miss your precious little painting class?” Jeno nudges you toward the mens bathroom, grabbing a hold around your elbow as he steps in first. “EMPTY OUT!” He roars, followed by an urgent shuffle and toilet flushing as one of the new Freshmen you recognize scuttles out with his head ducked, toilet paper attached to the back of his sneaker.
Jeno laughs breathily, entertained by the younger's fearful exit. The fear that he can instill in anyone easily with the snap of his fingers, or a mere glance. Turning toward you, he smiles, nodding to one of the stalls. “All yours.”
“That wasn’t necessary..” you say quietly, moving past him to find the cleanest stall available, nose scrunched in disgust as you settle on one and turn to shut the door. “Shit.” You startle jumping back, clutching at your chest.
Jeno latches onto the stalls frame, peering down at you. “No need to close the door Teddy, it’s only me.”
“Jeno, please..���
“You know I hate it when you do that.” Jeno swings his body back and forth, head shaking side to side slowly. “You said you need to use the bathroom?”
Locking your eyes to the floor, you’re at least thankful for choosing a skirt to wear today, lifting, sliding your underwear to your knees as you squat down and settle with your skirt fanned out over your thighs.
Jeno turns to laugh, rolling his eyes. “The way you still act so shy, like you’re ashamed..”
As if he hasn’t defiled you and had his way with you in every which way he prefers. “Cute.” Jeno’s gaze traces up from your sneakers to where your knees clench together, running his tongue under the inside of his lip. “Done?”
Scooting closer, his arms drop down to his sides, shoulders appearing more broad from where he looms above you. “And look at that, with time to spare still.”
Jeno grips around your upper arm, hoisting you up to your feet, panicked as you’d just begun to reach for the roll of toilet paper. “What’re yo—stop!”
Ignoring you, he flips you around to press your back against the stall, licking across his lips akin to a rabid animal. “Don’t worry about that, I’ll clean you up.”
He drops to his knees, bunching your skirt up to your waist as he perches one of your legs upon his shoulder, face burying between your thighs.
“Jeno, don’t! That’s too—“
The drag of his tongue has you choking, squirming back to get away as heat fills your cheeks, completely mortified by the sweep of his tongue running up and down. “N-no!”
Jeno groans, face shaking side to side as he makes sure to cover each inch of the skin between your thighs, tongue greedily running rampant between your folds. “That’s so disgusting.” You cry, pushing at his head, nails dug into his scalp
Jeno rushes back with a hiss, eyes snapping open wildly as he apprehends your wrists and clutches around your forearms roughly, returning the feeling with his short filed nails. “Funny how you only shut up at the worst times.” Overpowered, he pulls on your arms to launch himself back up, twisting them around your back painfully to press you to the stall chest first. “So difficult.”
Returning to his knees, he flips your skirt back up, keeping your wrists tethered with one hand. “Thought you wanted to get to class on time?” Jeno’s nose drags between your bottom, sucking in a deep inhale. “Fuck.”
He groans, biting down on the cleft of your ass hard enough to leave marks behind. A new one to join the rest that he makes sure to add daily. “Nothing about this is disgusting.” Cupping one of your buttcheeks, he bounces the meaty flesh against his face, eyes rolling up as his nose dips against your tight ring of muscle.
“Not there!” You wheeze, scrabbling to get away by uselessly scratching down the wall.
“You’ll get used to it.” He rumbles against your core, lips circling your entrance with a lewd slurp; not missing a drop of your arousal beginning to drip out. “Ridiculous how good you taste.”
Clapping your ass against his cheek without pause, Jeno’s neck bends back more, jaw opening wide to swipe his tongue from your clit to your hole, growling between short staggered breaths. Each drag of his nose slowly circling your rim humiliates you worse, biting down to keep in your complaints the more he goes for it. Splaying out his palm, he spreads your ass completely open, unveiling the taut ring of muscle clenching helplessly.
Jeno kisses at the backs of his teeth, drawing in a sharp breath as his index finger extends to tap and tease your rim, cheek dimpling to one side the more you fail to pull away. “You’ll let me fuck you here next, yeah?” He laughs, pushing your trapped fist into your lower back to form a deep arch. “Fill up all your holes, is that what you want?”
“N-no..” You grimace, face pressed to the chill bathroom stall. “Please, hurry, please.”
His tongue clicks obnoxiously, blowing on your rim before setting down a searing kiss, tongue smoothing around in a circle. “Why should I hurry? I don’t even get to fuck you.” He sneers, eyeing the time on his wrist.
“Later,” you pipe up fast, rutting back against his face to convince him. “After school, we can.. do that..”
His eyebrows shoot high, peering up in surprise. “Oh yeah? I’ll hold you to that, Teddy.” He bites down on your buttcheek again for good measure, nipping the skin roughly. “Now be good, and hold yourself open if you want to make it on time.” His grip on your wrist loosens, shaking off the sting left behind only for a second before he slaps your palms down on your butt and adjusts your position to expose both your holes. “That’s it.”
Thick arms circle around your thighs, biceps flexing to keep a snug grip on you as his hot tongue returns to your center and glides between your folds, inching lower until his lips can wrap around your clit.
“Uhhnnghhh..” you jolt, firmly tucking in your mouth to suppress a moan from soaring out.
Jeno’s hands swipe up the front of your thighs, gliding his mouth and nose from your wet hole to your clit with teasing firm flicks of his tongue; three of his digits find your bundle of nerves right as his mouth latches back around your entrance. His tongue buries deep, lifting your toes to curl up off the floor, knocking your forehead against the wall as you fight to keep in a desperate cry.
He’s relentless, tongue expertly waving against your insides, the muscle strong and thick. “Ugh!” A whine breaks through your sealed lips, smacking the stall as he taps your clit repeatedly, urging you to break down and squeeze your release around his tongue.
Jeno draws out, mouth a mess of shiny wet, panting heavily. “Come on, give me what I want.” He slaps your clit roughly, spitting at your entrance before plunging in, nosing at your rim harshly as he struggles to breathe out of his nostrils. He grumbles between choked breaths, tongue working in and out of your hole with precise thrusts. Each rub to you rim, stroke against your clit, and incessant roll of his tongue inside of you shoots straight through your legs, ready to collapse if not for his arms keeping you held in place.
“Je—I—“ your eyes roll back, grateful that he can’t see the wash of pleasure pouring down your face. Turned putty under his ministrations as you clamp around his tongue shamefully, scratching down the stall in a weak attempt to get away.
Jeno drags out only to lick up the trickle that managed to escape his mouth, lapping your inner thighs clean with a deep moan. Each swipe of his tongue raises your humiliation up higher, hissing and jerking away when he reaches the cut along your knee.
“What is this?” He grips a hold around your calve, forcing you to balance on one leg to get an up close look and inspect how deep the wound goes. “When did you do this?”
“Don’t know, think when I ran down the stairs to meet you this morning the stair bannister skimmed my leg..”
He grunts displeased, setting your foot down to stand and kick open the door. “Come here.”
Jeno motions to the sinks, dropping both of your backpacks down next to you on the counter. “Does it hurt?”
He examines your knee closer, propping your foot to rest along the sink ledge, tongue poked between his teeth.
“Why do you care?” You ask with a scowl, reassigning your attention to the bathroom floor when Jeno slowly blinks at you and reaches to open his backpack.
“Is that a serious question?”
“Whatever.”
He nods, huffing an amused sound under his breath as he grabs a pack of sanitation wipes. “This may sting but I’d rather you not get some infection, especially after scratching at it.”
He proceeds to lightly dab the wound, drawing a hiss between your teeth despite how gentle he’s trying to be.
“You don’t have to do that,” you bite, leg jerking in his hold. “I won’t pick at it anymore.”
“Sure.” Pink lips purse together, delicately blowing over the area. “I don’t have much, but I’ll cover it up with some gauze when we get home later.”
Home.
Jeno speaks as if you live together, and you may as well at this point. Ripping a bandage open with his teeth, his eyes thin to place the non-sticky white where your flesh appears most harmed. “You’re mine now, I expect you to be more careful than this with your body.”
Squeezing up your calve, his thin digits dig through the meat of your muscle, trapping your bouncing gaze. “Maybe it’s best you move out of that shit hole you live in. That areas not well fit for a young girl to live alone there.”
“I can’t afford to move..”
Jeno’s lips gingerly land atop the bandaid, puckering to press a kiss. “I’ll figure something out.”
“You’re being weird.” You whisper, turning away from the sight of his pouty mouth continuing to layer kisses over your wound as if to heal you faster.
“It’s okay.” He draws your foot off the counter, taking a hold of your thighs to make space for himself to stand closer between. “It’s okay to accept it.”
Jeno’s eyes appear black as night, empty of any genuine thought or emotion, but even then your chest aches at the flicker of hope when he looks at you. It’s different, nothing you’ve experienced from anyone else. He looks at you like you’re..
“Special.” He whispers, pinching your chin as he leans in closer and his palm smooths over the covered wound. “Does it hurt?”
“..Would you hurt me?” Your lips move faster than you mind can register, asking yourself the question over and over again without realizing you’ve said it outloud.
Jeno blinks slowly, taking in your nervous expression. Opening up his palm, he moves to cup your chin and keep your face visible as you try to hide away, slowly inching forward to connect your mouth to his.
The bell rings right before your lips can meet, dislodging the breath you hadn’t even realized you’d been holding. It’s easy to break from your thoughts and push yourself off from the sink, scoot around him fast with the excuse of being late. “My scholarship.” You constantly remind him, receiving nothing more than a roll of his eyes in return.
“Yeah yeah,” he trails after you out of the bathroom, voice low and threatening. “I’m holding you to what you said for later, don’t forget.”
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Jeno met Haechan the first day of Freshman year of high school.
Excited to show off a new pair of shoes with wheels attached on the soles, he rolled through the hallways to his first class. That’s when he noticed an on-slaught of senior girls running by in their short cheerleading uniforms. Giggling and waving as they jogged by him cackling from behind their hands- ‘hey freshie’.
All too distracted with a goofy smile on his face, he missed the shorter boy wandering ahead of him lost. An unfortunate collision caused their foreheads to bump hard enough for a bruise to show up on both of them by lunch.
Haechan hissed, crashing flat on his bottom painfully; Jeno quickly apologized and helped him up. Little did he know they’d become great friends from that day forward.
Jeno’s not jealous of Haechan, not necessarily. He admires how giving his friend can be, really. If Jeno ever forgets to grab his packed lunch, Haechan will always offer to share. He’s always sure to invite Jeno over to play games whenever his dad purchases the latest gaming console. He’d even go as far as lending Jeno the shirt off his back if needed.
‘What are friends for if not to have you back in any situation?’ That’s what Haechan would say whenever Jeno felt rendered speechless by his friend's generosity.
The thing is, Jeno had never had a friend like Haechan. He questions if he can even call his relationships with others friendships anymore.
Unlike Haechan, Jeno had trained himself to not share. Friends had only become burdensome with time. Always asking him to play with his toys, mooching from his delicious snacks, making a big deal over the new pair of sneakers he wore that day.
They liked him because he had nice things, but they didn’t actually care about him. They cared about materialistic bullshit, about his good looks, the designer name brand clothing he’d wear.
Haechan was different from all of them. One day he opened up and shared that he’d felt homesick. Vulnerable at the time after a long tiresome day of introducing himself to groups of snobby fake stuck up people. One even pointed out a manga on his desk saying- ‘I’ve only seen weird loners read that shit’.
‘I had a friend.. back home.’ Haechan had sighed despairingly, head dropped lazily on his bed; drained by the realization that this is his new life. ‘Well.. I wanted her to be more than a friend.’
Jeno watched Haechan over the next few years. His friend changed, reformed his persona to fit in with the standard; he adapted quickly to this new lifestyle. Days of asking Jeno if he’d like some of his lunch dwindled down to nothing; seemingly only irritated that Jeno could be so forgetful of he ever asked for his leftovers.
Things had only become more tense with time. Haechan had grown competitive with everyone. He craved to be the ‘it’ boy around school. It never phased Jeno, not really, he learned to accept the change in his friend.
Then came the day Haechan decided that Jeno was his competition.
“Jeno, don’t you think this Cartier bracelet would look so cute on my wrist?” Sinclair waved her phone in his face. Wrist waggling out toward him, suggesting with her flirty batting eyelashes that he buy it for her; she had been on his ass for months dropping hints. “Perhaps you could finally ask me out with a gesture such as this?”
“He can’t afford that.” Haechan rolls his eyes letting out a breathy scoff by her side.
“Of course he can, nothing a swipe of your dad’s Amex can’t cover. He won’t even notice it on the monthly statement.” Sinclair goes on.
“His dad’s broke.” Haechan corrects her abruptly, glancing quickly toward Jeno’s burning glare. “I mean, uh... don’t repeat that.”
Haechan snatches her phone, waving off that he’d buy it for her when he takes her out come Friday.
All it took was some stupid girl Jeno could give a fuck about for Haechan to let him down for the last time. It bothered him for months, imagining the various ways he could split his ‘friends’ skull open.
“I won’t mention it again dude. It was a mistake, alright?” Haechan whispers standing near his locker after Jeno had resorted to the silent treatment for the rest of the week. “Listen, I’m sure she’s already forgotten. I’ll just take her to some overpriced restaurant and tell her I made that up because I was high or whatever.”
“You promised me you wouldn’t tell anyone.”
“Promises are for children Jeno, I forgot alright? I’m allowed to make a mistake.” Haechan showed no remorse. Proving his promises to be empty, backed by no integrity, lacking worth and value. Jeno knew deep down Haechan only continued to befriend him out of guilt, he knew their relationship boiled down to nothing for the other at the end of the day.
He knew he had to do something about it, but he couldn't. He had to wait for the perfect timing. He had to leave Haechan defenseless. He needed to ensure no way for his father to find out of his plan. Leave Haechan with no way to snitch and rat him out, a threat strong enough to hold over his friend's head.
The day you came along everything fell into place. Jeno knew as he watched Haechan’s head lay on your shoulder from behind a bookshelf in the library, you clearly meant something to him. None of it made sense at first. Why would Haechan care about you of all people?
“Remember that girl you mentioned from back home?” Jeno decides to casually bring up the story he’d hardly cared about or paid attention to while gaming. His friend's throat cleared on the opposite end from behind his computer screen.
“Yeah, what about her?” Haechan says, continuing to mumble curses as he goes on playing.
“Whatever happened to her? Did you two keep in touch at all?” Jeno asks, cursing at the screen to seem casually interested.
“Uhhh,” Haechan swallows, shrugging. “Honestly, don’t know.”
Liar.
Jeno’s teeth grit, holding back a laugh. “That’s too bad, you two were really close, I remember how tore up you were back then when you had first moved. Took you a while to get over it.”
“Man, that was so long ago.” Haechan waves off. “I was a kid.”
Raising a finger to silence their conversation, Haechan pauses the game, picking up his phone after the first ring. “Hey baby, nah I’m just with Jeno, yeah the usual.” Haechan proceeded to ignore him, the old friend he once cherished long gone now.
Just like you.
There are times you want to ask ‘Why me? Why me of all people? Out of all the girls withering away for a mere blink from Jeno in their directions, what the fuck made me matter.’
The unplanned vow of silence you’ve committed to halts those times your tongue itches to lash at him, and you listen, you listen well, very well. It’s to your detriment really, because Jeno adores that you listen, he loves the implication of the power he constricts you with behind your binded lips.
It’s also to his detriment that— for lack of better words, Jeno isn’t the brightest. Maybe he doesn’t want to come off too intelligent, you contemplate as he gushes on about his lost friendship; his favorite topic other than you really.
Haechan.
Jeno’s obsessed with Haechan, at least he’s obsessed with the fact that Haechan won. Between his foul rehashing of times his alleged best friend made him feel futile, it’s easy to decipher why it had to be you.
Not to make Haechan jealous, no. Haechan could give a fuck about you.
Jeno sees the precious memories of his former friend that he lost in you. The glint in his iris sparkles, satisfied by your raptured gaze as he wraps up his story.
“That’s why you’re so perfect.” He says proudly, capturing his bottom lip between index finger and thumb, massaging it while a hum rises up his throat. “Had to be you. You’re the answer I’ve been waiting for.”
The answer. What the fuck does that even mean, you squint, blinking it away fast. Jeno beams, pulling you closer to him with his arm snaking around your waist. “I like when you do that, makes me wonder what’s going on in that brain of yours. Something devious I’m sure.”
Carrying your bag, he hooks an arm over your shoulder, drawing you close as you venture to your next class together. “Hey.”
Maneuvering you around to face him, he stops at the classroom door, grabbing the attention of numerous students as he blocks the entrance making an awkward scene for you. “What are yo—“
“I love you.” Jeno announces loud and clear, receiving a round of gasps and an uproar of whispers. He smiles, cheeks lined with wrinkles, eyebrows raised as he waits.
“Wha—…” breaking off, you peer around quickly, sweat pouring down your back out of fear. Anger and an oncoming storm raging through your gut. “What.”
He lets out a chuckle, sighing as he hugs your back to his chest and proceeds to make way to your seats, further boiling the heat building up your chest. “My sweet sweet Teddy.”
“What the hell is wrong with you!” You hiss, throwing your shoulder into his chest to continue to your seat under the eyes of the entirety of your class. Rounds of whispers sing around you, the usual confusion you’ve become accustomed to laced between every shared word.
He sits by your side, arm back around you in no time with a large smile, nodding and peering around the room to affirm that he meant what he just said.
Every cell in your body wants to explode, throw Jeno down onto the ground and crush his face under your foot. The squeeze around your shoulder curls you in further, wishing to be anywhere but here.
“Cold?” He asks, knowing that you aren’t, it’s a mere excuse to wrap himself around you more. His nose nuzzles against your hair, taking a deep inhale with a suffocating possessive hug wrapped tightly you. “Can’t have my Teddy get sick.”
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“Teddy.”
It’s shrill, nausea inducing, the way Jeno’s grown fond of this nickname for you.
The way he smiles and peers at you with some sick adoration as he calls you his teddy bear again.
While you feel trapped and disgusted, everyone else seems confused, peeved, and to be gossiping about the two of you.
Haechan’s girlfriend sports an ugly sneer when you walk by wrapped under one of Jeno’s arms; snapping the pencil in her hand into a broken half as he sets a kiss on your forehead, smirking at the round of gasps your schoolmates let out throughout the hallway.
“They’re all so jealous of you.”
They are jealous of you, watchful eyes speak volumes following your conjoined figures heading toward the parking lot.
Jeno has successfully transferred into nearly all of your classes, he picks you up and drops you off. Blows up your phone with texts and calls the second you’re apart. He doesn’t ask for updates or proof of what you’re doing, he demands it. Threats fall empty now, you don’t have much to say, he does the talking.
You listen.
“Our assignments are due next week.” He mutters, pulling away from the school in an opposite direction from where you live.
Our. Mine. His.
Nothing is yours anymore, Jeno made sure of that.
“I have to be home soon..”
“Oh yeah?” He lets out a breathy laugh, drumming the steering wheel while sat at a red light. “Last I checked you only have to be with me, your parents only call to check in on you once a week. They don’t have to know your location at all times teddy.”
Oh but he has to know. He knows everything about you, every excuse and lie you can concoct shot down by weeks of evidence collected while studying you from afar. Far enough for you to never catch on, too clueless because of your own insecurities to ever fathom that someone like Jeno could be obsessed with you.
“Besides, today is a special day.” He exclaims, driving into a gated community full of large three story houses resembling suburban mansions.
“How could you forget?” Jeno parks, moving to unbuckle your seatbelt. He sighs, pinching your chin to look at him. “It’s our one month.”
He pouts, bottom lip jutted out while blinking dumb and slow.
Sometimes you think that Jeno’s cute, and that makes you hate yourself more than anything. All you can do is avert your gaze, pretend he has no affect on you, keep up an act that he’s emptied you of any possible emotion; because he wants to destroy you. He wants you to feel helpless, wants you to rely on him because you have nothing else.
He’s pushing you inside of the house, digging into your knees from behind with his, built arms tightly wrapped around your waist. Suffocating you, that’s what he does, coating you in his scent, sucking out your energy throughout the duration of each day with the metaphoric needles he prickles you with. Every word that drips from his tongue feels like acid poured onto your flesh, burning through the layers to melt you deep inside until the pain goes numb.
His families house is enormous, spread out and fully furnished. Luxurious like some 5 star hotel, which Jeno hasn’t let you forget is only thanks to Haechan’s father for saving their ass.
‘My dad can’t afford this place anymore. The bank owns our house by now, but he’ll do anything to keep up appearances.’
That’s what he mentioned during lunch one day, ranting about how he can’t stand the way everyone ‘keeps up appearances’ around here; snickering disdainfully toward the table his former best friend sat at.
‘Especially him. Fake asshole.’
Jeno stops you in front of his bedroom door standing by itself in the hallway he’s led you through.
A dark empty hallway, away from all of the other bedrooms. Ominous and cold.
“You know the way, open the door teddy.”
Of course you know, it may as well be your bedroom at this point.
“I have a surprise for you.”
Jeno’s palms cover your eyes when you reach for the door handle, stiffening your spine as his chest knocks against your back to make you step further inside.
Inside of his bedroom it’s dimly lit, a chilled temperature; the air cools down your throat with every breath you take.
“Do you like it?” He’s smiling against the shell of your ear, whispering softly. Revealing with the drop of his hands a giant plushie sat on his bed against the corner; a human size teddy bear.
He knows you don’t like it, even the question sounds like a dare; a dare for you to say that you don’t like it, that you don’t like any of this.
You especially don’t like Jeno, or the way his palms brush down your arms, shifting to your waist to gather your top up. Bunching at your stomach as he begins to remove it from your body.
“There's more, Teddy.”
Of course there’s more.
The tips of his fingers slowly trail between your breasts, throwing your top off with ease because you don’t struggle. You let him take off your clothes whenever he wants.
Most times he doesn’t touch you much, but he counts, he memorizes. He traces over indentations from teeth buried into your skin and faded bruises left behind after fucking you roughly. He makes sure there are no others, only Jeno can mark you, only Jeno can see you like this.
He takes time discarding your bottoms, unbuttoning slowly, pushing the material down your hips even slower. Squatting down to his knees to pepper faint kisses on your hips and thighs as more your flesh comes to light; finishing off with a peck on your forehead when he stands and motions toward the plushie.
“Don’t you want the rest of your gift?”
You nod, just barely, taking a step toward the bed. Met with a hand clasped on your shoulder and a ‘nu-uh-uh Teddy’.
Jeno smirks, pushing on your shoulder. “On your knees.”
On your knees like the pet you’ve become. Crawling with your palms flattened onto the bed. Heating up knowing he’s behind you watching your underwear ride up your ass. It’s less humiliating now, he’s made you do worse.
A small black box sits between the teddy bear's legs, adorned with a glittery red bow.
“Open it.”
Hesitantly you pull apart the lid, pursing your mouth shut at the piece of jewelry inside.
A choker, a solid black thin choker you will no doubt have to wear around your neck everyday now. A choker with a teddy bear charm punctured in place through a small metal ring.
“Ah, I can tell you love it already.” He chuckles, ripping the box from your hold. Shoving your hair away to lean close and lock the clasp around the back of your neck. Grazing the edge of his nose on your jaw and cheek as he does, a silent reminder that you are his, and he will do whatever he pleases with you.
Jeno has a sardonic smirk stretching his lips as he takes you in, fingering the charm dangling just beneath your throat.
“My teddy bear.”
Tips of cold fingers trace your neck, following the pulse passing through your veins, it’s all just to push your buttons. Jeno wants a reaction, he craves your pitiful stares and miserable moans, he needs your pain to feel something.
You won’t give him that satisfaction, not anymore.
He sighs, pushing your shoulder to nudge you in the direction of the large plush. “Don’t think I’m letting you off easily for forgetting our special day either.”
God. How could he possibly care enough about you to count down the days you’ve been ‘together’ or whatever he considers this. “Now, show me how much you love your gift.” He says with a wink, tapping your ass and nudging his chin to the teddy bear laid between his pillows.
This has to be some sick kink of his, and it’s impossible to forget what he made you do in that abandoned classroom a month ago..
“Just like last time.” He hums, moving onto the bed with his knees. “I know you remember.”
It’s not necessarily watching you grind against a toy that ripples blood through his veins faster, filling up his cock until it weighs heavy and hot between his thighs; but the saddened broken image before him, with your gaze lowered in shame as you mount the plush and grit your teeth. It’s the shattered feeble look of defeat that fills his chest with warmth more than anything. “That’s it.”
Reaching to smooth up your spine, he pushes at the backs of your shoulders, shifting closer to sit behind you on his knees. “Wanna see you ride it up close.”
He works to guide your hips down onto the bears stomach, pushing hard until your core meets the soft material and you let out a shameful whimper. Biting down on his lip as he slaps your thigh, squeezing up your butt to your waist with instruction to move.
It’s vile, rolling your hips down at his command, growing short of breath as the friction builds up between your legs and his strong hands manipulate your movements. Tears spring past the corners of your eyes the faster he makes you move up and down, grinding your core along the life-size plushie full of humiliation and fear.
“Your ass looks so fucking good.” He groans deeply behind you, rubbing down your back to cup your buttcheeks in a squeeze. Gripping and kneading, parting you open to watch your rim flutter against your panties with each pathetic hump against the teddy bear. “I know I couldn’t be your first time teddy..”
He leans in, chin resting on your shoulder to halt your movements as he dips in past the cleft of your ass to find your hole. “But I’ll be the first to fuck your ass.”
The gasp you try to keep mute still reaches his ears, softly chuckling against you as he adjusts and slides your underwear to one side. “Consider it your gift to me for forgetting our special day.”
Some special fucking day..
“You’re so wet already, doubt I’ll even have to prep you.” Jeno whispers, nudging the tip of his thumb against your rim. “Looks really tight, what do you think? Should I be nice and stretch you open first?”
“Please..p-please, I’ve never..”
“Shh shh, don’t worry, I believe you.” He chuckles softly, pressing the blunt tip of his length against your entrance. “With how tight that pussy is, I know you’ve never let anyone inside your ass. It’ll be a special memory only for us..”
Is it special? The tingle building in your stomach seems to agree, relaxing against the plushy to arch your butt out more. It has to be a Pavlovian response by now, conditioned to seek this pleasure Jeno provides you. Even if you hate accepting it. It’s not your fault that your body's natural response is to crave his touch, and spread your legs wider for it.
“I’ll be nice.” There’s amusement in the way he says it, like he doesn’t believe himself either. Slapping the mass of his cock down between the dip in your ass, cursing through clenched teeth. “You may not show it, but your cunt never lies.”
The bulbous tip swipes down, pressing against your clit, pushing your knees to slide open an inch more. It’s all taunting and teasing, running the fat cockhead between your chubbed folds, dipping it into your entrance just to watch you squirm and rut back for more. “Greedy pussy, acting like I don’t fuck you enough.”
He mumbles, smacking the underside of his length between your thighs. The wet clap stinging under the weight of his heavy size beating down on your swollen core. “J-Jeno..”
“Something wrong teddy?” He tuts, hips rolling up, gripping your buttcheeks to sandwich around his length. “You sound.. impatient.”
He gulps, trapping his cock under his thumbs to fuck between your buttcheeks faster. Wet tip prodding out, spilling precum down making the glide even easier. Each thrust passing over your pussy hole and rim makes your thighs tremble, burying your face deeper into the teddy bears neck. “Mmmph..”
“I know it hurts you Teddy..” Jeno’s words rasp against the back of your neck. Bending forward to paint your warm flesh with a coat of moisture. Sweat, raw sex and saliva combine, sticking your skin and his mouth together like hot glue. “Why do you have to be so good at taking it though? Huh?”
Breath fans your upper back, the drag of his tongue races across your shoulders to bite down a groan on one. Notable effort to make you squirm and scream becomes more prevalent with each smack of his hips against your ass, grunting deeper the more he exerts. “It’s because you like me, right?” He asks between the sound of a struggled laugh, gasping with another slide of his thick length passing between your thighs. “You’re drenching me sweetheart, making a fucking mess of my sheets. You know what I’m gonna have to do later?”
He’s silent for a few seconds, panting heavily as his tongue trails to lick the column of your throat. The glide of his cock between your thighs is disgustingly loud, squishing and splashing in volumized echoes around his bedroom. “Your lack of response is becoming predictable, you know.”
His lower half snaps, protruding hip bones beat against your backside. A gut crunching sensation curls up your chest, unable to deny the slick gush continuously leaking out of you and coating your ass and thighs the more frantic his motions become. “Can’t wash these sheets again, need to savor it. Remind you of how much you enjoyed it. How you finally gave in and accepted this fate.”
“N-no..”
“What was that?” Jeno asks breathlessly, gripping the base of his girth to position the tip against your rim. “You want more, don’t you?”
He presses in, watching his wet slit disappear past your asshole. “Ahh, no!! S-stop!”
He snickers, angling the tip to stretch your tight ring of muscle. “Relax. It’s going to hurt a lot if you don’t relax.”
“Please..go slow..” you sigh, biting on the plushy when he nudges more.
“Be calm teddy. You want this?” He drags the sharp edges of his well-filed nails down your ass painfully, surely leaving marks behind. “Want my face shoved in your ass, huh? That’s why you’re whining so much.”
Jeno always has a way of speaking to you during these intimate moments. So cold and uncaring. The icy tone breaking your skin out in goosebumps. Even with your mouth sucking around the teddy bears arm, you whimper, the urge to cry spiking as he removes your panties and lands a sharp strike down on your ass.
“Bent over all pretty for me teddy, you arch that butt out like such a good little slut.” His palm smooths down lower, patting your wet folds to make you listen to how wet you are from this alone. “Who knows, after this I might not even bother with your pussy anymore. Have my own brand new unused hole to fuck now.”
He teases, swiping your clit side to side, dragging the tips of your fingers between your cunt to prod at your entrance. “You’re so wet, I love how fucking wet you get.”
A shaky breath leaves your lips as he twists two fingers inside and buries in knuckle deep, pressing his thumb to your asshole. “Such a perfect slut for me, ready to be my anal whore.” Jeno pulls out and lands a slap down on your rim, hard enough for the sound to clap out around his bedroom. Your hips drop from the sudden impact, biting down a scream into the plushy. “Enough of that, I wanna hear you.”
Wrapping around your waist, he manhandles you easily onto the center of his bed. Laid down on your back softly for him to get a good look at you, for you to finally see him. He’s big, broad, looming over you in the dim light illuminating from the corner of his room. The strokes of yellow paint across his chest and muscle, the darkness pronouncing deep indentations of muscle lining his abdomen and arms. Jeno falls forward, catching himself above you with his biceps bracketing your head, smiling as he leans in to kiss the fresh tears lining your cheeks.
“As much as I wanna bend you over and fuck your ass like there’s no tomorrow.. “ he slows to kiss up from your chin to where droplets have pooled under the hollows of your eyes. Sucking up and kissing the wetness there, enjoying it more than you’d be able to comprehend. “Nothings better than watching your face when I fuck every inch of my cock inside..”
The pure joy glaring back at you from his dark glass irises rains more tears down your face, sniffling and shaking as he licks them clean and squishes your lips out. “Relax sweetheart, it’ll feel good for both of us. Promise.”
Thin digits run down from your jawline, tracing past your neck and over the mounds of your breasts. Jeno adjusts your position to haul one of your thighs up, using his shoulder to keep your knee pressed against the bed. He makes a show of bringing his hand up to his mouth, sucking around three fingers, dragging his sloppy wet tongue between each with laser focused eyes locked on yours.
“You’re so good for me teddy, gonna let me use that pretty ass..” the way he holds you open exposes both of your holes, hovering past your swollen wet cunt to press two fingers against the clench of your asshole. “Just one baby..”
He presses the tip of one slicked up digit in, breaching the tight little muscle until you whine desperately. “Feels so warm..” Jeno’s eyes flutter, thick black eyelashes still visible in the low light. He sounds throaty, hungry, exasperated and needy. Quietly muttering to himself about how good your tight hole feels as he begins to pull his finger in and out slowly. “Bet your pussy was even tighter than this when you were still a virgin.”
His voice comes out a lot more harsh, gravelly, guiding another finger in with the next stroke. They scissor through and flutter against your inner walls, tugging lightly at your rim as he dips out to the just the tips. “You’re opening up great for me sweetheart. Do you see how you always listen so good?”
Jeno sits on his knees like a predator catching his prey after a long meticulous hunt. Prodding another tip past your rim alongside the two, the muscles lining his arm rippling, exerting more strength to not push them in all at once. “Tell me teddy, are you desperate enough for me to even let me claim your ass?”
Your throat dries, pursing your lips together to quell the moan that nearly spills out. It’s a new type of full, sneaking peeks at the veins running down his inner forearm leading to the fingers working you open. A wash of shame and heat streaks down your limbs, shivering when Jeno draws his digits free, dangling them above your ass.
“I know you are.” He lands another slap between your thighs, making your extended leg jerk. Fixing his angle to line the tip of his cock with your rim, the large blunt tip presses down, having to tuck your lips in to not scream. “..but I want to hear you say it.”
The head of his cock nudges in, pulling a gasp from your chest. Jeno bends closer to grab your jaw, shake your head around until you look at him. “Tell me to fuck your ass.”
“I’m—“ your voice sounds unrecognizable, squeaking out brokenly, overpowering the one you’re used to. “I—‘wan—“
Bending in closer, the pull up your hamstring burns, further pushing your leg against the bed. He pushes in another inch, the bulbous tip nearly fully entering, skin stretched taut around him. “You can do it, I know you can do it. Tell me sweetheart.”
“F-fuck—“ you pause, the last bits of your mind slipping away to another dimension. “Fuck m-my ass, please—fuck my a-ass.”
A sick pleased smile lifts the corners of his lips, bumping the tip of his nose to yours. Jeno doesn’t fuck the rest of his length in immediately the way you expect, slowly pushing each inch to savor the snap around his shaft.
It’s when his hips bump against the backs of your thighs that you finally take in a deep breath you didn’t know you were holding. Panting out heavily and wide eyed when you can feel the entirety of his cock fully sheathed inside of you.
It’s when Jeno begins to pull out that you bite down to keep in a scream, lifting up on his forearms caged around your head to watch his length draw free. It feels like he’s splitting you in two and he hasn’t even really gotten into it yet. It goes on like that for a minute or two, his head hung, black hair in your face, awestruck by your rim sucking around his dick each time he pulls out to the tip. He gains speed slowly, snapping his hips forward for the first time. Jolting your spine to arch up and finally release a tiny scream you can’t hold in any longer.
“Pussys making such a mess teddy..” Jeno rasps, throwing his head back, pink lips hung open. “Fuck, you’re dripping down to my balls. Love getting fucked up the ass.”
Every thought racing through your mind dissolves, blank and empty as you crane your neck to the side to get a look at what he’s going on about. Embarrassment flushes down your face, unconsciously clamping down on his length plunging in faster. The powerful snap of his hips rocking you deep into his bed, surrounded by Jeno Jeno Jeno. His smell, his touch, his mouth and his meaty girth stretching you open. It’s become something you expect, something you’d feel weird without now, Jeno.
It burns when he buries in deep, grabbing onto the back of your knee for better control. The stretch feels more and more overwhelming with each pass of his cock manipulating your tight ring of muscle further. Digging his knees steadily into the bed, he picks up the pace and kicks his hips forward to fuck in to the hilt.
“Love fucking your ass. Love fucking you.” Jeno’s eyes clench shut, blinking quickly to open them and shove his forehead against yours. “Love you.”
God it makes your stomach churn, half pulled into a pleasure that feels too good to be true; sickened by how good it feels to be impaled by his fat cock. Half suffocated by the rushing swarm of emotions lassoing your brain, tightening until you feel ready to burst. And Jeno again with the fucking L word, dropping it like nothing, making sure you feel each syllable through his girth splitting you open.
The push and pull against your clenching rim feels painful, feels good, makes your head spin. He eats it up, licking across your lips, trapping the bottom between his teeth to suck on. Nose dragging down your cheek, lapping the tears, sweat and spit painting your face. It should feel disgusting, you should feel repulsed, but this behaviors become so standard now. Jeno’s like a puppy sometimes, burying his face in your neck, searching for a place to lay new kisses.
Even during these times when he’s on top of you, pushing his cock in deep enough to bruise your cervix, your fingers itch to touch him. He usually does it for you, grabs your wrists and forces your hands to drag down his face, kissing the inside of your palms and wrists.
He seems more intent on kissing you right now, letting ragged breaths fans across your lips between light pecks. “Can you cum like this?” He asks, murmuring against your mouth.
“I—I d-don’t know..” you really don’t. It’s your first time and the pleasures surging all over in different directions, racing between pain and confusion back to arousal and need.
“You can.” Jeno whispers, lowering his face to your neck, gaze focused on your connected lower halves. “You’re so wet.”
Fingers trail down your stomach, softly skimming over your clit before easing between your folds. He sinks two inside, thumb rubbing your clit in a simultaneous motion, filling you from both ends. “Ugh! Yeah just like that sweetheart..”
Jeno snaps forward, trying to match the rhythm of his hips to his fingers. He bites down on your jugular, panting heavily against your throat. The burn of the stretch crashes against waves of pleasure, twitching up with each rough rub at your clit.
“I’m—I’m c-cumm—“ the sob you break off into has him moving faster akin to a feral animal. The weight of his bulky frame lands down on you hard enough to make his bed shake, headboard slam against the wall. Each brush of his thumb at your clit feels more sensitive than the last, sending you over the edge, mind blank beyond the grip your ass has around his cock. “Ahh!”
The wetness spilling out past his fingers slides all the way down to your lower back, further solidifying your humiliation. Because he’s right, you are wet just from this, loving your ass stuffed full. Drowning in the sensation of his length ramming in and out.
“Squeeze that fuckhole around me so good teddy, cum cum—“ Jeno chants manically, throwing his hips down rough and fast. Pressing down your clit harshly between viscous flicks, rolling the stiff nub until your toes curl.
You spill over quickly, writhing under his weight as the pressure of wetness pushes his fingers out of your cunt. The orgasm rolls through you like no other, rolling your eyes to the back of your skull. Thinking you’ve passed off into the afterlife if not for the way he draws back and pounds into your ass.
“You like it?!” Jeno’s expression morphs into one of anger, black eyebrows furrowed together. He grabs your face again, chasing after his release still slamming his cock in deep. “You like getting fucked up the ass?”
The questions pointed, furious. The face of frustration and anger only there to mask how close he is to falling apart, reaching a new high as he charges to the peak.
“L-love it, yes..” you barely whisper, tear filled eyes blinking the moisture away to watch his features contort and crumble. His pace turns erratic, breath quickening fast enough for his chest to beat up and down. Letting out a deep growl, Jeno comes to a still, mouth hung open letting a chopped up groan roll off his tongue. His cock thrums wildly against your inner walls, flooding your ass with warm white cum you’ve had poured inside of your cunt for weeks.
The little sounds dripping from his lips sounds anguished, whimpering when he thrusts in one more time to ensure his cums evenly painted your insides. “Love you so much..”
His eyes fall shut, nose dug into your cheek catching his breath. The tips of your fingers tingle again, itching and burning to comb through his soft dark locks, to smooth the sweaty strands off his forehead. It feels like the right thing to do.. maybe with anyone else.
But you want it to feel right with Jeno..
He grumbles, littering kisses down your cheek to the corner of your mouth. “Gonna pull out, okay?”
You don’t respond, not even a nod, only hissing through your teeth as you gape and the now cooled down semen trickles out of your ass disgustingly, really cementing what you’ve just done. What you’ve let him do to you again.
Jeno hums softly, laying by your side without a worry, seeming pleased and full of life judging by the small smile on his face. “Happy anniversary teddy.” He reaches for your hand, scrabbling to entwine your fingers when you try to pull away.
“What’re you thinking about?” He murmurs, shifting closer to your side as you curl into yourself to get further away. “I don’t even have to ask. I’m sure I can throw out a wild guess..”
He lets out a long sigh, huffing a quiet laugh. “You’re not as good at masking your emotions as you may think.. You have to erase those old memories you have of Haechan. He’s not a good guy.” Jeno remarks, nudging his elbow against your side. “He’s a bad person.”
“You are no better..” You accuse, a bit surprised, whispering with your mouth pressed against his bed. The last person you’re thinking about right now is Haechan(..maybe). Jeno’s smile only grows wider, tickled to hear you talking back finally.
“There’s a difference between me and him.” He says surely, slinging an arm around your waist, hooking his chin over your shoulder as he presses in close to whisper. “He changed to please everyone. I just don’t care anymore.”
“You’re both terrible people..”
Jeno sighs, smile still evident in his tone, leaning closer kissing your ear. “I love you.”
“Stop saying that.” You mutter, digging your elbow back to push space between you.
“Why would I do that?” Smoothing your arm down, he kisses the end of your jaw, licking your earlobe. “I love you, I know you won’t say it back, but that won’t stop me from letting you know that I love you.” He cozies up against you, yawning. “Get some rest, we have that test to pass tomorrow.”
・ ⋆ ・ ⠄⠂⋆ ・ ⠄⠂⋆ ・ ⠄⠂⋆ ・ ⠄⠂⋆ ・ ⠄⠂⋆ ・ ⋆ ・ ⠄⠂⋆ ・・ ⋆ ・
Jeno has that look on his face again, the one that shifts from raunchy to feral hunger, the one that has him reaching to grab you in less than a second.
“I’m still sore..”
“I barely even touched your pussy.” He says cocking an eyebrow, phone dinging in his pocket over and over again. “Was I too mean teddy?” His palm swipes down the curve of your ass, cupping your buttcheek.
Ding. Ding. Ding.
He groans, smacking your butt lightly before reaching to free his phone.
“Shit, my dad’s blowing up my phone.” He huffs annoyed, swiping through paragraphs of text messages. Most yelling at him in all caps lock for not answering his phone. “He needs me to pick up some files from his home office, says it’s urgent. Something about an accident..”
Frustrated, he hoists his bag and adjusts yours on his other arm, nodding toward the end of the hall. “Come on.”
“Jeno, the test—I can’t!”
He sets you with a look that nearly makes you crumble, ready to succumb and follow his orders. “Please, you know my grades..”
Dragging the tip of his tongue between his teeth, he sighs deep and loud, pinching the skin between his eyebrows together. “Fine.”
What?
He looks irritated, upper lip twitching stretched over his teeth trying to control his anger. “But I’ll try to come back later to pick you up. If you take longer than a minute to reply to me, I swear to fucking God—“
“I won’t!” You almost add a ‘thank you’, biting down on your tongue to stop yourself. “I’ll keep my phone within view shot in case of anything..”
Jeno rubs at his temples, shoulders visibly trembling. “Fuck. Whatever. Fine.”
He stops to take in your elated expression, cupping your cheeks, thumbs caressing your soft skin. “Don’t forget, I love you.”
You won’t say it back, he knows you won’t, but he waits for a minute, a flicker of hope passing behind his gaze. “Good luck on your test, I know you don’t need it teddy.”
He leans in and kisses you, full control on his end. Making a real show of it by shoving his tongue down your throat right in the middle of the hallway where everyone watches and whispers nasty remarks. He wants them to see, he wants certain people to see especially. Public display of affection had never been something you enjoyed, or even experienced before Jeno, but he made it something you had to learn to endure.
“Be good.” He says quietly, warningly, slipping your bag from his shoulder. “I’ll see you soon.”
You nearly risk being late to class just to watch him leave, having to run to make it on time. The first time you’ve been alone in days, weeks even. Sitting down at your desk with a sense of relief, a crippling weight lifted off your spine. This test would be a breeze without him there to breath down your neck.
It is really crazy how you turn to the empty seat next to you numerous times though, fully expecting to see him there waiting for the next answer. Finishing off your exam without handing it over to Jeno to ensure he copied all of your answers felt odd, peering at your phone over and over again expecting notifications only to have none.
So. This is life without him. Normal? Not anxiety inducing? Nothing to fear or worry about..
You should know better though, exiting your class blindsided by Haechan leaping in front of you, hooking his arm around yours. “You. In here. NOW.”
“Haechan?! What the hell!” You cough, waving at dust that lifts from the janitor closet floor. Cleaning supplies and clutter surround you, setting in how claustrophobic you feel when he slams the door shut and locks it.
“We need to talk. Right now.”
“About what?!” Pushing him off, you stumble back and glare. Watching his face fall at the sight of your anger.
“About this.” He says, reaching for the charm adorning your neck, flicking the teddy bear. “What’s this bullshit all about? What are you dating Jeno now?? What the fuck is wrong with the two of you.”
“The two of us?! There’s nothing wrong with me?! It’s your fault any of this is even happening to me!” You screech, slapping his hand away.
“My fault?! You low lives are threatening to ruin my future and it’s somehow MY fault??” Haechan bellows, grabbing your upper arms.
“Low lives?”
He scoffs, shaking you with his firm hold. “Don’t change the subject! What the fuck if your problem, huh? Are you making him do this? You two need money that badly?”
Haechan could have just asked about your relationship with Jeno if he really cared. He would have noticed how different you’ve been looking and acting if he really ever cared about you.
“Everything’s about money to you..” you mutter, gaze hanging low.
“To me?! I’m the one being threatened here!” He says in disbelief, burning holes into your face with a crazed look. “I don’t need any money from you or him.”
No. You don’t need anything, do you? Everything’s about you. You you you you…
Jeno was right all along.
“You seriously think I want your fucking money Haechan?!?” You shout, breaking out of his hold to shove him back. “What about me, asshole?!? Do you even give a shit about me! No, you don’t! Because I embarrass you that much, huh?”
“What are you even going on about.” Rolling his eyes, he grabs your wrists before you can pummel him with your fists, teeth gritted. “Of course I give a shit about you, why do you think I’m here?! He’s always hovering around you! It’s impossible to get near you anymore.”
“You’re only here because you think I’m weak.”
“Weak?” Haechan repeats, tossing your arms down. “He’s really brainwashed you, yeah? Made you believe I’m the bad guy here? I’m not the one money hungry enough to destroy years of friendship over some petty jealousy!”
“He hasn’t brainwashed me.” You snap back, nearly adding a lie to make yourself feel better. He doesn’t talk about Haechan that much, and he’s not that jealous..
“Oh yeah? Than what the fuck is this?” His fingers aim for your choker again, sliding the tips under to press along your pulse. “Wearing a collar like a good little bitch?”
“It’s a gift.”
Haechan’s mouth parts in surprise, cocking an eyebrow. “You really like that psychopath, I can’t believe this.”
“Fuck you.” You bite back, wrapping around his wrists. “You have no right to assume anything about me.”
“And me? What about me, huh?” He says soft and low, leaning in closer. “I thought you liked me.”
“You did?” You ask, a bit surprised. You hadn’t made it that obvious, right?
“So, you don’t?” Haechan’s gaze flickers to yours, peering between each of your eyes confused. “Ever since we were kids I thought..”
“Do you like me? Did you ever?”
“Always, I always have.” He says surely, tugging out of your grip. “Not that it matters.”
“W-Why?” You stutter, feeling heat rush to your face. “Because y-you won’t do anything about it? Because I’m nothing but a low life, right?!”
Haechan steps closer, locking you in place against him with his arms tightening around your waist. “You’re not, okay? I’m just mad about Jeno..”
You hate getting angry, because you hate to show how weak you really are, cursing at the first batch of tears that pour from your eyes. You punch at his chest, letting out a tired sob. Tired because of this, everything, tired of holding onto something you never had. “It’s all your fault. He wouldn’t even care about me if it wasn’t for you.”
“What’s my fault?! That your boyfriend’s a certified nut job??”
“This isn’t about him! He’s not my boyfriend!”
“Oh yeah?” Haechan squeezes you in, inching his face closer to yours. “So, you won’t care if I do this.”
The same lips you dreamt about for years come closer, a breath away from finding yours. He pauses to watch your reaction, eyelashes fluttering up and down expecting you to do something to get away. Because Jeno’s girlfriend wouldn’t let another guy kiss her, especially not his new enemy.
It’s nothing like your dreams when he finally goes for it, he’s not soft and nice, he doesn’t move against your mouth like he belongs there. The kiss is rough, fast, sloppy, needy and aggressive. He sees his chance and takes it, sliding his tongue in past your lips as you gasp, lowering his hands to your ass with a fierce squeeze. His dreams had been to strip your innocence, watch your fall apart and scream while he fucked you deep. Nothing like the fairytale stories you’d imagined. Each pass of his tongue against yours indicates his desire, forcing your arms out of his hold to reach for his hair, fisting it and pulling as hard as you can.
“Ahhh! Ahh! Stop!” He whines, lips already swollen.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” You sneer, coiling tendrils between your digits, pulling until his neck arches back and a high-pitched squeak breaks free from his mouth.
“I knew it.” He grits, eyes thinning into a glare. “You’re fucking him, aren’t you?”
“Is that what this is about?! You just need to have everything Jeno has?!”
“You are the one falling for that freak.” Haechan spits, slapping your ass. “Everyone knows Jeno fucks like a fucking crazed beast, you’re not as innocent as I thought.”
“I’m not fucking him.” Technicalities..
“Yeah? And why should I believe you?” He plays with the hem of your skirt, tickling at the skin there. “You say that you like me and yet here you are holding back. I think you’re a liar, trying to protect your crazy boyfriend..”
“He’s not my boyfriend.”
“Yeah?” Haechan steps back, leaning against a shelf full of cleaning products. Reaching below his waist to unbuckle his belt. A bulge sits beneath his zipper, slowly lowering it with his eyes on yours. “Get on your knees.”
“What!?”
He snickers, shoving his boxers and jeans down under his balls. “I said get on your knees.”
He has the audacity to wear a cocky grin, tilting his head back onto the shelf as he begins to gently stroke his cock to full mass. You have to look, have to lick your lips at the sight of his length beginning to chub up in his hold. It’s not enough to subside your anger, marching forward to slam his shoulders back against the shelf. “Who do you think you are?!”
“A guy you like.” He says, voice low, staring at your lips. “A guy who likes you.”
This certainly isn’t normal by any means, you know that, but that doesn’t stop the extra skip in your heartbeat. Doesn’t stop your eyes from trailing down Haechan’s face to where he sucks on his bottom lip, letting it go and bounce shiny with spit. “Now.” Reaching for your mouth, he slides a thumb across your lower lip, pushing down on the fatty center. “Get. On. Your. Knees.”
There’s a cruel edge to his tone, watching you crumble and slip down onto the floor, eye-level to his length. “Don’t act surprised. This is what you want.”
You don’t know what to say, watching your knees settle on the ground before looking up. He strokes at his size lazily, the tip right between your eyes. Nowhere near as big as Jeno, that’s for sure..
“You’ve always had such a pretty mouth, always used it to talk so much shit.” He smirks confidently, bringing the tip closer to your pouty lips. “What are you waiting for?”
Haechan even smells rich from down here, clean, trimmed pubes, a slight musk wafting off his sack. Jeno’s a little different, he’s always hairless, always smells clean in a soft and inviting way. You think he keeps himself extra tidy to entice you more, but maybe that’s just him. Maybe this is just Haechan..
“D-do you have protection?”
“Huh??” He says, surprised, shrugging and reaching for his wallet. “Yeah, whatever.”
He sounds a little ticked off, flicking the condom at your pressed together thighs. Not putting up an argument either way. It’s been awhile since you’ve had to use one of these, and as you unwrap the package you start to wonder why..
Clearing your throat, you nervously reach to grip around the middle of his length. It’s not as heavy in your hold, not as thick, a lot smoother with less prominent veins. The condom rolls down fine, aided by a layer of lube that will surely taste disgusting sliding down your tongue. He’s hissing above you, eyebrows scrunched together focused on your hands and robotic expression, wondering if you’re lying about everything..
“Come on.” Haechan says desperately, reaching to thumb your lip again, a lot messier and more eager. “You want my cock, don’t you?”
Leaning in, you test the feel of it, sliding the tip across your upper lip. Slowly craning your neck up to watch his face fall apart. “Say it. Wanna hear you say it.”
He grips your hair, fingers tingling through your scalp, forcing your neck back further. Plump lips hang open above you, breathily moaning, stuck on his cock dragging your lower lip open. “Say you want my cock like the pathetic fucking slut you are.”
That flicks your eyes open fully, rising from your knees quickly with a tight grasp around his size. “What did you just say to me?!”
Haechan’s jaw hangs limp in shock, letting out a shattered moan when you pull at his length roughly. “Turn the fuck around.”
He listens without even trying to resist, grabbing onto one of the shelfs with your fist still circled around him. “S-sorry.. I thought..”
“Shut the fuck up Haechan.” Grabbing his wrists, you loop them both back and trap them in place against his lower back. Reaching lower with your free hand to smooth over his ass.
“Now, repeat that? What did you just say to me?”
He shakes, turning his face to the side to watch you from the corner of his eye. “Nothing nothing! I take it back!”
“Are you sorry?” You whisper, nipping at his jaw. Fingers skimming between the crevice between his ass.
The vibrations soaring off his body intensify, trembling harder, breathing through his nose gruffly. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” He chants, breaking off into a whimper.
He doesn’t know what you wish he was sorry for. Delivering a slap to his ass and watching it bounce back against the collision, you hum lowly.
“Come here.” He’s easy to whip around, shivering from head to toe excitedly. Ankles weak to walk on as if he could cum already, making it easy to push him down onto the floor.
“Fuck, you’re crazy..” he whimpers, laying back and kicking his legs to get his pants off. He looks more pathetic than the first time you ever met him, sobbing under you, crying for you to let him go.
“It’s your fault.” You mutter, pushing your skirt and underwear off to mount his hips without restraint. “Wish I’d never met you.” You hiss, reaching for his chin to dig your fingers into his cheeks. He blinks up at your blearily, the bright light above you staining his face in a white translucent shade, eyes lost and glossy. He’s pretty, so so so pretty, makes your chest burn and ache. He’s always been pretty, eyelashes fanning across his cheeks slowly with each blink, plump lips shoved out for you to capture.
“You’re so sexy.” He mutters, struggling under your rough grip. “If I’d known—“
“If you had known what?” You sneer, slapping his cheek hard enough for his head to snap to the side, eyes bewildered and surprised.
“Fuck you’re..” he spits, bending forward at his neck to watch your core sit down on his length. “Ahh.. shit I’m still!—” He splutters, head dropping back, hips rutting up as you start to slide against his cock.
It’s easy to take control and feel powerful on top of him like this, shifting back to grab his knees and push them up. “Stay still.” You demand, using force to push the pits of his knees down and hold yourself up. Haechan whimpers from the change in position, feeling small and confined under your figure sitting above him.
“Fuck I’m—not gonna last long. You’re too much.” He’s such a whiny sniveling mess, drooling down his chin, cock twitching against your cunt.
“You like that?” Hoisting yourself up against his legs, you lift enough to line the tip of his cock up to your entrance, hips trembling as you begin to lower and breach your hole.
“Ahhh! Fuck!” Haechan screams pretty, high-pitched, unashamed. His head tosses back fully exposing his Adam’s apple, dainty collarbones. He’s nothing now, nothing but a groveling whore begging to be fucked.
“Say it.” You say full of threat, struggling to keep yourself held up, clawing your nails into the sides of his knees. “Beg me to fuck you.”
The softest cracked moan spills from his red juicy mouth, face dropped to the side looking at you with half-lidded drunk eyes. “Please please, please fuck me.”
He’s nothing, and he could easily be yours.
It’s so easy to mount him, to bury the rest of his length inside of you. It’s less of a struggle to take him than you’re used to, filling you to the brim with a wet splash against his pelvis where you land. He whines and moans through it, making you work to ride his cock faster.
Haechan looks brainless, gorgeous, stupid as fuck with his tongue hung out lavving at the drool pouring from the corners of his lips. Sweaty hands push yours off his knees, holding himself open wider to free your hands. The burn running up your thighs calms as you grab onto his chest and ball his shirt between your fists, short of breath the faster you work to fall into a rhythm.
“Faster, come on, fuck me faster!” He grunts under you, voice loud and ragged over the thunderous clap of your ass crashing down on him.
“Shut the fuck up whore.” You bite, reaching to wrap around his neck for better leverage. Pretty brown eyes go wide, gasping for breath as you tighten around his throat until his head shakes and he sounds empty of air. His cock thrums wildly, urging you to slam down harder, rock your hips faster. The veins along his forehead expand the more he struggles to breathe, mouth hung wide open like nothing but a dumb slut. “Only sluts get off f-from being choked.”
He nods weakly, coughing and groaning, sweaty fingers slipping on and off his legs. “Yes yes, ahhh g-gonna cum.”
“If you cum before me I’ll bite your dick off.” You spit out angrily, freeing his neck to clasp his chin and bury your fingers inside of his slutty mouth. “You useless slut.”
Haechan’s eyes roll back, tongue lapping between your digits, balls colliding with your ass with each heavy thrust. “Ah—ahh!” He gurgles and spits, making a mess around your fingers. “Pl-please!”
The hold on his knees slips free, arms flopping down to his sides, legs landing on the ground hard with rapid tremors shooting through. “Shit!” You grunt, stilling as his length pulses and warmth fills the condom, sliding off before any of it can pour out inside of you. “What did I fucking say?!”
Anger and arousal combined feel similar to a slasher film. Murderous and frightening, craving death around the corner as the music changes to warn you as the next kill approaches. Haechan lays under you out of breath, face covered in sweat and saliva, cock pathetically twitching against his stomach. “Selfish.”
Snapping the condom band into place, you settle back down on his length, making him shout out and shake his head. “No no! That hurts!”
“I said shut the fuck up.” Bending in, you reach for his hair, fisting handfuls to pull on and control the speed of your hips. So useless, so stupid and useless, you deserve better than this. Better than someone who can’t even control his own needs to make sure you both finish and reach pleasure.
Tears brim his eyes as you rock down and roll your cunt against his half-hard soaked cock. The friction of creamy wet rubber rutting against his length more painful than enjoyable at this point, springing droplets down his cheeks.
“You’re so weak.” He nods, has the nerve to agree with you. Biting down on his plush bottom lip to compress a sob, glossy eyes blinking tears out faster.
The broken sight of him sends shivers up your spine, jabbing the tip of his cock against your clit in rapid motion until your hole convulses and draws out a much deserved orgasm.
“Holy shit..” he wheezes out breathlessly, the back of his head hitting the floor painfully as you abruptly release him and move to the side.
Satisfaction courses through your veins, along with something else weighing heavy on your mind..
That was.. interesting. Is that the word you’re looking for? Interesting.
Patting the floor for your skirt, you immediately grab your phone. Jeno hasn’t texted yet. Even more interesting, something really must be wrong with his dad.. you should send him a message first. He might need you right now. Why the hell do you care about what he needs..
“Hey, let’s keep this between us.” Haechan disrupts your inner monologue, patting your shoulder. “Don’t need Jeno seriously spreading those photos around and whatever else he’s blackmailing me with.”
“Does your dad know about your drug use?” You ask, sliding your arm away from his touch.
He frowns, nose wrinkling annoyed. “Why the fuck would he know about that?!”
Because you’re a spoiled brat. Surprised that daddy even cares about his privileged son ruining his future, blowing his father’s hard earned money on more white shit to snort up his nose.
You shrug, buttoning up your shirt. “I guess you have a lot of secrets.”
Like me.
You are one of Haechan’s secrets if you think about it.. his secrets stemming from shame it seems. Because he’s ashamed of you, of the part of his life you remind him of.
“Whatever.” He scoffs, standing uncomfortably, nervously scratching his head.
“Don’t worry.” You reassure, picking up your belongings and grabbing the door handle. “There’s nothing your secrets can provide for me. See you later?”
His frown deepens, chewing on his bottom lip and shrugging. “Whatever.”
“Goodbye Haechan.”
You leave first, emotions unsettled and scattered as you walk down the hall to your locker. It’s nearing the end of the day, thankful that Haechan only made you miss gym class. Jeno always takes longer to fuck you, he likes to make sure you always get off, sometimes he doesn’t even finish..
Jeno. Shit.
‘Waiting for you by the north gate entrance.’
Shit shit shit. What the fuck. Jeno said he wasn’t sure if he’d be able to pick you up today, or that he’d try to, whatever. Not even a heads up?! Nothing to warn you??
Fuck, what if you smell like Haechan?! Knowing Jeno he’d be able to tell. There’s no way you can come up with something quick enough to get him off your ass, another text alerts you demanding for you to hurry up.
‘If you’re not out here in the next 50 seconds I’m coming inside.’
Fuck. You really fucked up this time, fear picks up your pace to jog through the hallway corridor faster, dodging your classmates bodies left and right until you near the exit short of breath and look out to see your… Jeno, stepping out from the driver’s seat.
“There you are.” He smiles, a big smile, the type that reaches his eyes. The one that’s for show, for others to coo and aww at. The one that garners close-to-ear whispers behind hands and eyes bouncing back and forth from you to Jeno.
‘Why her?’
Everyone asks, everyone wants to know. You never asked before, until one day the voices broke you down and found yourself constantly asking- ‘why me?’
You’d never ask Jeno, you never ask him anything.. but right now, as you nervously force your lips into a measly smile, the cramp forming in your stomach nearly makes you trip down the grass hill leading to where his cars parked awaiting you with the passenger door open.
“That’s funny.” Jeno says under his breath, leaning in to wrap around your waist. “You never smile at me.” He whispers near your ear, taking a step back to look over your face. “What’s up?”
The way his head tilts scrutinizing your face makes your chest cave, lips pressed together tightly as his eyelashes lower over his iris the more he lowers toward your neck; the collar of your shirt saves you of any fear that Haechan left behind any incriminating evidence of what took place less than an hour ago.
“Hmm..” Jeno reaches forward before you have a chance to react, tugging you closer by the fanned edges of your collared shirt. “Now why is your top button undone..”
He can see the way your throat jumps, hollowing out between your collarbones with each dry nervous swallow. “And your necklace.”
Your choker, he means. Fuck your choker. The lucid memory of Haechan angrily pulling on the teddy charm adorning the strap squeezing your neck makes your teeth grit, hidden behind your quivering lips.
“Strange.” Jeno’s eyebrows gather together, the gleam in his eyes darkening despite afternoon sun illuminating down on him, highlighting every defined flawless attractive feature. “You’ve never disobeyed me this much before.”
“Wha—“
“You know you’re supposed to always have this uncovered. Why did I dip into my savings and risk getting chewed out by my dad? For you to try to make me a secret?” Jeno finishes buttoning your shirt back up, digits reaching beneath the leather to adjust the charm’s position while adding more pressure, losing the tiny centimeter of space between your neck and the material. “Did something happen while I was gone?”
“No!” Your reactions too fast, fast enough to fully widen his eyes, mouth tensed as he meets your gaze. “I—I had to.. to participate..”
“In what?”
“Physical Ed.. you know I always sit out with you.” Jeno watched your choice of physical activity: yoga, for less than a week before deciding this form of education benefited you in no way. Something about those ridiculous yoga pants you wear for class only seemed to distract a group of guys in the weight lifting class across the gym. He concocted doctor's slips for the both of you to sit out and study instead. “Coach didn’t let me today.. she said there's no way my period cramps last all month. I must have forgotten to fix my necklace after getting dressed, I’m sorry..”
Jeno nods, smoothing his thumb over your warm cheek, hot from anxiety rising the longer you stand there and risk the chance of running into Haechan on his way home. “That bitch. I’ll deal with her tomorrow.”
He pauses again, a contemplative look taking over as he reaches for your hair and smooths down fly aways. “No wonder you look sweaty. Must have been working hard, using all of your body and stamina.” Jeno’s tone lowers to a whisper, gently pressing under your lash line. “Even smeared your mascara..”
“I really should take a shower.” You say, managing to speak quickly without stutter. “Didn’t have a chance to after gym class and the air conditioning must have been broken or something in the homeroom.”
“That’s fine.” Leaning in, his nose presses to your jugular taking a deep inhale. “I like it, smell like you just got fucked.” Reaching for your lower back, Jeno moves you forward toward the passenger seat, the facade of a nice boyfriend(or whatever he is) vanishes with the turn of his head.
You learned quickly to let him do what he wants after receiving nothing but hard stares to shut you down. Jeno wants things done his way, even buckling your seatbelt is his responsibility.
The engine vibrates as you wait for him to settle into his seat and back out of the parking lot, just barely missing Haechan’s exit by a few seconds.
It’s silent on the way to his home, tense and thick. Maybe it’s guilt, your guilt, guilt you can’t understand carrying to begin with. Why should you feel guilty? Does Jeno deserve that? Is it really because Haechan didn’t feel like Jeno? Because he didn’t make you relinquish control, didn’t make you feel special? Is that what Jeno does? He makes you feel like nothing else matters more than you?
Biting your nails raw, down to the rough neglected skin beneath until the tips of your fingers ache, you’re unsure if it's the silence that bothers you more or your spiraling thoughts screaming louder and louder. “Was everything okay? With your dad?”
Jeno comes to a stop at a red light, tapping the steering wheel, lips parting open into a half smile. “I didn’t think you’d ask me.”
He doesn’t turn to look at you, only glances from the corner of his eye, sleek and cold. “You never ask me anything.”
A dry breathy laugh passes through his nose, stepping on the gas again as you near the neighborhood you’ve become more familiar with than your own by now. “Did you miss me that much today, teddy?” He’s grinning, stoically, and if you blink too long you’d miss the way his head shakes in disbelief.
Shutting off his car, he turns and reaches for your chin to lift your face up. It’s your best effort to appear as nothing, not display an ounce of guilt or shame, but not smile or stare back too long— because that would be out of character. “Is there something you need to tell me?”
The gleam passing his gaze is damn near unnerving, adjusting your face side to side as if he’s inspecting for damage. “Did something happen while I was gone?”
The most you give him is a barely noticeable shake of your head, gaze lowered to your lap, nothing too out of the ordinary..
Jeno leans over the space between you, turning your gaze back to him, digits spread out along your jaw for more control. “I think..”
He presses closer, forehead connecting to yours leaving just an inch of space between your nose and lips. Lips that left behind their moisture and shine on another man, a mouth that you fear may still carry remnants of his taste. “My teddy..”
Jeno’s lips graze yours enough to hitch your breath, shutting the seam of your mouth shut. That doesn’t stop him from cupping your face, overtaking power and pushing your lips forward with the pressure of his palms squeezing you in. “You are starting to like me more than you realize.”
He kisses the swell of your pout, biting his lower lip for a second to admire how swollen and worn your mouth looks; as if someone has sucked on the fleshy fat roughly. Someone reckless who could give a shit about you. “Or at least more than you’re ready to admit.”
Jeno lets go, leaving you gasping for breath as he sits back and studies your reaction. “Kiss me.”
It’s not a question, it’s not even a demand, he’s too relaxed. It’s expectant, because you’ll listen to him, if you know what’s good for you; and you do.
There’s no way to crawl between the front seats without it being awkward, having to reach for Jeno’s thigh to keep yourself sturdy. He huffs to mask a laugh, turning away when you direct your pout toward his lips. “Kiss me the way you really want to.”
He knows you don’t want to, but he doesn’t know why; and maybe that’s where your guilt stems from because you can still taste Haechan between your teeth; and the pink flush spread across his mouth stirs a need up from your stomach to your chest.
“Go on.” Jeno’s head rests against his seat, eyebrows raised waiting. You manage to slip onto his lap after banging your knee into the cup holder, gripping onto his shoulders to align your weight onto his crotch. The same way he likes to hold you in the evening while playing games with your head laid on his chest.
Jeno kisses you everyday, he kisses you. You could trace the shape of his lips with your eyes shut at this point, subconsciously you even notice whenever he reapplies chapstick from the light menthol scent and taste alone.
There’s something you’ve noticed over time as you lean in and breathe out nervously across his impatient mouth. Jeno never looks away first, he watches for your response to everything, silently analyzing the tiniest smallest movements. He has to, because you give him nothing, and he does it well. Even now with your eyes falling shut too nervous to look at him up close, he stays tuned in to your bottom lip trembling, the little twitch between your eyebrows and how much your hands shake while gliding up to his neck.
This shouldn’t feel like your first kiss with him, not after everything, but it does. You are the one in control for once and you’re the one applying pressure. Taking time to feel out just how soft his lips actually are when they aren’t roughly prying your mouth open to shove his tongue inside. The tightness beneath your palms even seems to relax the more you move between top and bottom lip, gently sucking and pulling them between yours.
Jeno doesn’t move, he even lets his hands rest by his thighs despite itching to gather your waist and grind you down against him. He wants to see how far you’ll go on your own, especially after today; because maybe you needed this time apart, albeit only a few hours, but maybe you needed to be alone to understand just how much you need him.
“I’m not a good kisser..” you finish with a light as a feather peck at the corner of his mouth, dropping your face embarrassed. “It’s better when you do it.”
Oh? He perks up at that, giving into his desire with hands encompassing your waist. “You are good, you just..”
He rubs up and down your sides, letting out a long sigh while looking you over. “You don’t like me, right?” Jeno bites down a smile, nodding to himself. He knows you’d pour your soul into a kiss with Haechan, you probably dream of some ridiculously romantic rekindling of your relationship with some ridiculous scenario: fixing all the damage with one kiss..
“That’s not it—“
“You don’t.” He nods again, an accepting nod.
And it’s okay, because you still have hope, somehow you still have so much hope that Haechan will save you from this. That your stupid childhood first love still carries you deep within his heart the way you always have, because you have so much good left inside of you in spite of every obstacle put in your way. Jeno likes that, that’s why he befriended Haechan in the first place, because good people are rare to come by.
But Haechan is not a good person anymore, and soon enough your spark will die out too.
“It’s not that Jeno..”
“Let’s get inside, I ordered takeout, should be here soon.” He says with an ordering pat pat pat against your hip, unlocking his door for you to exit first. “You hardly touched your lunch today.”
“Is it okay if I take a shower first?” Having to ask makes your stomach churn, mumbling behind the tips of your fingers finding their way back between your teeth to bite down on your nails.
“Stop doing that.” Jeno gently pries your wrists away, opening the door to his bedroom. “You never shower until after we fuck.”
“Like I said.. the air conditioning..”
Jeno eyes you skeptically, huffing and grinning. “You think I’ll care if you smell a little?” He’s back on you, encasing your waist as he bends in to drag his nose along your throat. “I think you smell sweet.”
“It’s not that.. I just feel gross.”
And you do, you feel extremely gross. More disgusted with yourself than you’ve ever felt after allowing Jeno to defile you. The more you try to push away what you’ve just done, the more unsettled you feel by all of it.
“You wanna change?” He places a light kiss upon your cheekbone, moving away to sit at his computer chair. “Grab whatever you want to wear. Don’t take too long though or your food will get cold.”
Part of you wants to stand there and argue, claim that you aren’t hungry despite the rumble your stomach gives at the mention of warm food; but a hot shower to wash away the remnants of Haechan’s spit and other fluids depletes any will to bother Jeno any longer.
“Are you sure?” You ask, skimming over the drawers lined up against the other side of his bedroom.
Jeno hums, already logging on to play league and waving you off. “Yeah, wear whatever.”
Showering in his bathroom had become very standard, like he said you typically prefer to after the act, but today’s different of course. His bathroom is much nicer than the community one shared by multiple people at your shitty studio complex. The studio you rarely spend much time living in anymore ever since Jeno forced his way into your life.
There is something inside of you that sighs out of relief under the shower stream, stretching your arms out and up high freely, enjoying the quality of bath soaps and shower gels he keeps stocked. Jeno always smells nice, fresh and clean, not smokey and suffocating the way Haechan did..
The memory of his luxurious musky scent has your palms traveling lower, reaching for the shower head to thoroughly clean away any possible trace of him left behind between your legs.
Jeno would go ballistic if he knew.. you aren’t even sure how he’d react, and you don’t want to find out.
“Food’s here?” You ask quietly, still drying your hair by the bathroom door connected to Jeno’s bedroom. He takes a minute to answer, engulfed in the game playing across his computer screen.
“Just got here.” Jeno says, hitting pause to look at you. His lips loosen, jaw opening as he gazes from your feet taking short steps forward to your bare legs and his pink hoodie hanging past your hips. “Wow.”
“What?” You pause, looking yourself over nervously. He said to pick whatever you want to wear, you even double checked with him. He can’t be mad right? Maybe this is his favorite hoodie and now—
Jeno’s eyes soften, scanning up and down your figure as he reaches out and rolls his seat forward to grab your hips. “You look really cute.”
“Oh..” heat drives up your neck, lowering your eyes to look away from the pleased smile that tugs at his lips.
“I should make you wear my clothes more often.” Jeno squeezes up your sides, drawing the fabric to follow his touch and lift over your hips. “Come here.”
Leaning back, he motions for you to climb onto his lap, a bag of steaming hot food sits at the corner of his desk waiting. “But the food..”
He lifts one groomed eyebrow, responding with a silent command to do as he says before he makes you regret it.
“We’ll eat first.” Jeno wraps an arm around your stomach, tugging your back to press against his chest as he reaches for the bag. “Put on whatever you want to watch.”
It’s times like this in his bedroom, as you ease into his hold and pout when he swirls noodles around a fork to feed you with that you can’t help but to feel something.
Something you can’t bring yourself to accept, because that would make him right about everything..
That’s what makes it harder to eat, harder to sit still and let yourself grow too comfortable, harder to laugh when something funny happens on the TV show you chose.
Jeno can’t win, even if he continues to prod your mouth with another spoonful of rice, and softly smiles before licking away a piece from the corner of your mouth. “You’re so cute.” He mumbles, pushing the boxes of food aside. “Turn around.”
“Do we have to?”
Large palms run up your thighs, squeezing as they find a way between your legs to the fleshy meat lined along the outsides of your groin. “You’re cute, but don’t test me.”
・ ⋆ ・ ⠄⠂⋆ ・ ⠄⠂⋆ ・ ⠄⠂⋆ ・ ⠄⠂⋆ ・ ⠄⠂⋆ ・ ⋆ ・ ⠄⠂⋆ ・・ ⋆ ・
Jeno’s been extra clingy ever since that day he had to leave earlier. You can’t say you hate it.. and maybe it gives you an excuse for why Haechan’s been completely avoidant, not looking at you once. You wanted to wave at him, say hi as you passed each other, but with thick biceps belted around you at all times you knew better.
He could just be ignoring you because of Jeno.
He could just be ignoring you because he doesn’t give a shit.
“Really do hate that I have to spend the next hour and a half without you.” Jeno sighs sadly, kissing your cheek. “Fucking hate Philosophy too.”
“It’s just one class.”
“One class that’s stealing precious time I could be spending with my girlfriend.”
There he goes again, that bullshit title he keeps using. It’s almost worse than his constant love bombs. “Second bells about to ring.” You mumble, shoving his arms off.
“Yeah yeah, I know you can’t wait to get away from me.” He pouts, leaning against the door frame, glancing behind you at the area he knows you often set up at. Eyes squinting as he observes one of your classmates. “I’ll be here when you’re done. Be good.”
Or else.
The silent haunting echo follows you to your seat, apprehensively setting your bag down with a subtle peak toward the door to make sure he’s gone.
“How’s the research going?”
A deep voice startles you, jumping up and dropping your belongings. “Crap.”
“Ah, that’s my bad.” He crouches down before you’re even squatted halfway, long hands reaching to gather your brushes and pencils. “Was just asking how the papers going. I really think we should get together to make sure we’re both on the same page. I don’t want you to hate me if we get a bad grade..”
“Get together?!” You splurt out abruptly, coughing on choked spit. “Outside of class??”
The thing is, Jeno didn’t really know about Jisung Park. Why would he? He’s not in this class.
He didn’t know that part of the reason you loved this class so much wasn’t because he’s not in it. No(although that helps). It’s because from the first day you noticed Jisung sitting quietly free-hand drawing beautifully, you wanted to compliment his sketches, get to know him better; ask if he’s always had an interest in art..
But you didn’t, instead you shyly hid your face and looked away whenever he’d glance around. Sure, maybe you happened to notice how attractive he is too, but that didn’t matter to you. It’s not like you had a crush on him or anything..
And it’s not like your stomach exploded with butterflies as everyone paired off for your final project for the semester, leaving you nervously taking steps back and forth looking for anyone available.
Jisung approached you first, asking quietly and shyly. ‘Do you have a partner yet?’
That’s how you ended up here, your norm for the last week being to sit by him during class so you could exchange ideas and work on your final project together.
And that crush you didn’t have ended up becoming very very real. Jisung.. he’s nice, really nice. Genuine and thoughtful, he always asks how your days been, if you have any plans later on, tries to get to know you with curious and non-invasive questions.
It’s easy to bond over your love and appreciation for art, and he thought it was cool that you once dreamed of illustrating mangas(until capitalism and reality set in). He sparked light around the dark corners you hide in. Your secret, something only for you, something Jeno couldn’t ruin or touch..
“Yeah. You can come over to my place tonight? My parents both work late hours so we shouldn’t have any interruptions.”
An invite to his place, where you’d be alone. Only the two of you, no Jeno..
“Your place? Tonight?”
“Yeah? If that’s okay with you?” Jisung smiles apprehensively, reaching to scratch at his sideburn. “I’d like to keep my perfect GPA intact.. it’s okay if you can’t, I don’t mind completing the bulk of it myself.”
“No no, that’s not fair.” You wave him off, biting at your nail. “I’ll uhm, yeah—no, yeah, I’m free later. Write down your address.” Sliding him your notebook, you reach for your phone to text Jeno under your desk. This is for school, for your perfect GPA.. he needs to be understanding.
Jisung perks up and scribbles down where you can meet him after school, clapping his hands together. “I’ll set some snacks out for us, I’m sure we’ll be working hours into the evening.”
Hours into the evening.. Jeno won’t like that.
Jeno doesn’t like that. Immediately shooting down your messages with a flat out ‘no’.
It came down to begging, explaining to him on the way to your next class how important this extracurricular course is for your future internship applications, even your counselor said that. It’s not a good look if you only excel in your non-creative courses, unless you plan to apply for a job that requires zero social interaction and teamwork.
‘Good luck with that.’ Your counselor mumbled, signing you up for this art class in the first place.
“The whole purpose of being here is for you to finish partnered work here.” Jeno snaps, shaking his head. “Who’s your partner anyway?! Why haven’t you mentioned this until now??”
“We only barely received the project yesterday!” You lie, looking at anything else but him. “My partner.. Hani!” Thinking fast you blurt out the first classmate you can think of, praying to yourself that Jeno doesn’t know her.
“Hani?” He repeats, seeming pleased to hear a girl's name. “And what time are you supposed to meet?”
It took further convincing, a little bit of bribery, maybe you skipped Yoga to suck him off in the bathroom. But it worked, Jeno seemed at ease after hearing that your classmate Hani was counting on this project to keep her grades up. Your scholarship requirements too, sure.
“Call me when you’re done.” He says, parking on another street nearby you’d given him directions to, just in case..
“Of course.. it might be late.”
Jeno grumbles, leaning over to kiss you until your lips feel bruised and tender. He kisses like it could be the last time he’ll ever see you, but that never makes you react. He always kisses like that..
“Love you.”
You nod, stepping out and waving him off, letting him know that Hani takes the bus home and you’ll have to wait a few minutes longer. He seems hesitant to drive off at first, only finally taking off out of the street when his dad calls him about something.
Phew.
Panic and fear get shoved down as you make your way to Jisung’s actual address. You shouldn’t be this nervous, it’s just a project..
With your crush, alone, together, only the two of you. That’s why you stand at the front door to his house for a while, shifting from foot to foot, playing with the strings of your backpack.
Jeno would be really mad if he found out about this. What would be worse? Lying? Or Jisung? There’s no way he would have allowed for you to come here alone, without him. Lying was your only option..
Taking a deep breath, you reach for the doorbell, gasping as it flies open immediately.
“You made it!” He smiles, toeing off his shoes, still wearing the same outfit from earlier. “I just got in myself, had to jump the backyard fence because I must have dropped my key, sorry. Were you waiting long?”
“Oh no.. it’s fine.” You mumble, passing through and removing your shoes quietly. He seems even taller now, walking next to him in nothing but socks.
“You must be hungry, let’s raid the pantry real fast before heading to my room.”
His room, you’ll be alone in his room..
Jisung’s a couple of years younger than you, and it’s evident when you step inside of his bedroom and take in the different toys he has scattered about; moving around to throw his jacket over a pile of stuffed animals displayed in one corner.
“Shall we?” He says, motioning to sit at his desk, dropping the bags of chips and cookies he found. “I’ve already wrapped up the bulk of writing, and cited everything, we just have to go over key points for our presentation.”
“Oh, that’s great. Thank you for doing all of that.” You smile, sensing heat rise up to your cheeks. His parents must not use the air conditioning much..
He snorts breathily, shrugging. “You seem really busy, with your boyfriend and all..”
“He’s not my boyf—he’s,” trailing off, you shake your head and grab your notes. “Let’s focus on this so we can try to finish early.”
“You’re always with him..” Jisung sits up awkwardly, playing with his knuckles. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have assumed anything. You’re right, let’s uhm, get to work.
To your surprise Jeno doesn’t blow up your phone with texts, and you think about his dad again. He never did tell you what happened that day.. he should share personal things with you if he expects you to start trusting him. To build some solid type of relationship with him. The skin around your nails practically screams and begs to be left alone as you bring your fingers up to your mouth and begin to bite at anything you can find. He should have texted you by now..
“Something wrong?” Jisung asks, ruffling his fluffy black hair. “You seem a little distracted.”
“Oh, it’s nothing.”
“We’ve been working for two hours,” he nods, setting down his pen and organizing what you’ve finished so far. “Let’s take a break, I can really use one too.”
A break? Your eyes widen, following his figure as he stands and stretches his arms up, tight shirt lifting up his stomach halfway giving your curious gaze a real show. “Come on, our brains are probably in overdrive after a day of classes and now this, you should lay down for a bit.”
Lay down?!
Motioning to his bed, he smiles and directs you to follow with his chin. “Come on, I won’t bite.” He says sitting down, patting the empty space next to him.
Oh, but you might.
Stealing one more glance at your phone, you set it screen down on his desk, getting up and pretending to yawn. “You’re right.. sometimes I don’t know when to stop.”
Jisung laughs lightly, falling back and letting out a long sigh. “Me too, my grades mean a lot to me. I’m trying to get an internship this summer at Lee Corp.”
“No way!” You say excitedly, staying sat up on his bed and leaning on your palm to look at him. “I am too! Which program are you going for?”
“Engineer of course, they pay the best out of everyone in the country. Did you read that Forbes article? Haechan’s father must be a genius.”
You hum, brushing off the comment about Haechan, he’s the last person you want to talk about right now. “I was thinking about Global Affairs.. I really think a lot of their apps could expand and excel in foreign countries.”
Jisung laughs, smiling up his eyes, clasping his hands together on his stomach. “Look at us trying to relax.. we still end up talking about work.”
“I guess you’re right.. I’m not the best at, uh, relaxing?”
Jisung sits up on his elbows, eyebrows lifted as he looks at you. “I could.. make some suggestions.”
“Uhhh..”
He lets out an awkward laugh, turning onto his side and scratching his neck. “Sorry, that was lame. It’s just uhm, since you said you don’t have a boyfriend, I’ve been thinking..”
Shit.
He sucks in his thick pink bottom lip, biting down nervously. “I’ve always thought you were real cute, but you’re always with that guy so I kept my distance.”
“You, y-you did?” You stammer, clearing your throat and sitting up straight. “Ah, that’s—that’s nice. I mean, thank you.”
Jisung sits up, long bangs falling into his eyes as he tilts and stares at you in a way you’ve never had anyone look at you. There’s softness in his gaze, exposing his teeth as he leans closer to your face, huffing under his breath. “I’m not good at this, but I’d really like to kiss you right now..”
Kiss?!?
“Is that okay?” There’s a tremble in his voice, dipping in closer until your noses are less than an inch apart.
No. It’s not okay. You shouldn’t even be here right now. But isn’t it okay? Aren’t you in this relationship with Jeno against your will? Hasn’t Haechan been ignoring you for days? This could be your only chance at something normal.. someone who actually likes you for you.
Jisung’s heart looks damn near ready to break judging by the way his pout begins to droop, it’s instinct to rectify what you’ve caused that has you pressing forward; the first to brush your lips together. He lets a staggered breath free, moving to cup around your throat to deepen the kiss. It’s soft, nice, slow enough that you can process and absorb every small caress of your lips against his.
“I really..” he sighs out a laugh, tapping the end of his nose to yours. “Could help you relax..”
You deserve this, right? Why even question it? You like him, he likes you, and a part of you fully expected(or wanted) this to happen.
“Okay..”
Maybe the soft innocence radiating off of him is moreso the difference in your age. But there’s something about the way Jisung gently lays you down and places a pillow beneath your head. He kisses you again, and again, and again, slowly working your mouth open to allow his tongue to roam freely and explore.
It’s nice and calm without overstimulating your arousal, not until his fingers trace along your throat, pulling back with a smile that asks for permission.
Assuming he expects more you squirm anxiously, helping him slide his hand lower down your stomach to the button of your jeans. “Can I?” He asks, again, always checking in to confirm you’re okay with his next move.
You help him by shimmying out of your jeans, allowing for his hand to dip inside of your underwear as you continue to kiss and arch up at the first graze of long thick fingers swiping between your folds. His hands are warm, movements fluid and practiced, collecting the wad of wetness at your entrance to rub over your clit and begin stimulating your nerves. You can’t help to think- this is how it’s supposed to be, getting to know your body first with soft strokes, feeling the different parts of you to learn what gets you off.
“Wanna eat you out.” Jisung whispers against your mouth, trailing two digits lower to press against your hole. “Wanna taste.”
You nod eagerly, much too eagerly, kicking your jeans off to the floor, lifting your hips to invite him inside. He rubs circles around your entrance teasingly, tapping a few times before pulling out to sit up on his knees and tug off his shirt.
Jisung may be younger, but his body’s built nothing short of a man. Muscles line his stomach, arms firm and flexed as he pushes off his pants and climbs back onto the bed in nothing but a snuggly fit pair of boxer briefs. He pushes your top up under your breasts, hands large enough to hide the base of your stomach when they lay flat on top of you and begin to slide down to your underwear. “Like your panties..” he whispers, leaning down to trace the rose on your mound, making your hips twitch.
He likes them enough to not even take them off, laying down on his stomach to drag his nose down the damp seat of your panties. God Jeno would never— stop thinking about him. Stop saying what he’d do, he doesn’t exist. Jisung’s the one between your thighs, collecting your underwear to one side and taking a deep breath. “You’re just as pretty down here..”
His deep voice makes your toes curl against the bed, bending your knees up to grant him more access. “Can I touch?”
Nodding eagerly, you lift your hips again for him to push your folds apart, groaning as his thumb presses to your clit. “Like it when I do that?”
“Yes.. use your mouth..”
Jisung groans, half whimpering, tucking his face lower between your thighs. Thick lips suction around your clit, sucking the nub between and flicking his tongue out. His slow polite manners dissipate the more he ruts against his bed and sucks around your bundle of nerves. “Taste as good as you look.” He murmurs, long tongue dragging down to your tight hole to lap inside.
“You’re getting real wet.” He breathes out, cursing. Ducking back down to lick a fat stripe from your contracting wet hole to your clit. His tongue laves between your folds, spilling saliva and wetness across each, dipping his tongue in and out. He suckles on your clit, big hands splayed on your inner thighs pushing them further open to jam his tongue deeper inside.
You need more, fingers twitch midair before reaching into his hair and scratching at his scalp. “More!”
Jisung growls, shoving his face in until his nose digs against your bundle of nerves, panting against your opening with his tongue flicking against your inner walls.
He pulls back to glide two fingers inside, taking the chance to tug firmly on his scalp and shake your head. “Do y-you have a condom?”
Surprise paints his delicate face, appearing obscene with your arousal hanging from his chin. He nods quickly and jumps from the bed to slam open his bedside drawer and pull out a wad of protection. “I have a ton!” He scurries back onto the bed and grabs onto your knees, wide-eyed and dazed. “I mean.. do you want to?”
“Mhm..” you nod, sitting up to kiss up his neck, ripping the packet open and shoving your hand inside of his briefs.
You wish he would shut up just a little, favoring the breathy whines and whimpered moans he lets out when you finally wrap around his length and slide down the condom.
Jisung kisses you again, sucking on your bottom lip until it swells, licking across the fronts of your teeth. He lowers you back down comfortably and shoves his boxers down, length jumping up and slapping against his stomach.
“Y-you’re not like..” Jisung stutters, laughing to himself as he positions to line his cock up to your cunt. “Like a virgin?”
This is why you wish he’d shut up, gritting your teeth before forcing a smile. “Of course not.”
“Ah, figured.. wanted to be sure.” He takes a deep breath and cups your hips, inching forward slowly. “If it hurts—“
“I’ll let you know.”
It stings a little once he’s sheathed in half deep, he’s big, most of all thick. But the pain feels familiar, something you crave now..
“Come on.” You encourage, lifting your hips to fuck the rest of his length inside. “Fuck me, come on.”
Jisung gasps, long and choked, falling forward and catching himself by grabbing onto your shoulders. He watches your hips cant up for a minute, literally riding his cock, pussy slapping against his pelvis.
“Fuck, oh my God..” he croons, sounding out of breath already.
“Fuck me!” You beg, clinging onto his waist to scratch your nails down his flat tight stomach. “Please please, fuck me.”
Jisung snaps, nodding furiously as he crawls forward on his knees and hooks your thighs over his hips, throwing his hips into action to ram inside of you faster.
“Yeah yeah, just like that!” You whine, fucking him back to make him match your speed.
His hands reach for your waist, slamming in harder until you’re gurgling and writhing in his hold. Cock sliding in and out so wet and deep, the pain completely gone, only receiving pleasure with each meet of your hips.
It’s still missing something, something that has you reaching between your bodies to pinch your clit between two fingers. Nodding and panting for him to keep going. “S-so close.”
His palms land flat around the sides of your head, gripping the bedding in tight fists, using the leverage to drop his hips down faster. Fuck his cock in deeper and harder.
The sight of him above you, pale, muscular, black hair in his face, it’s enough to drift your mind away somewhere else. Shutting your eyes as heat burns up from your gut to your chest. Clit gone numb from your ferocious rubs, you twitch and cry out. The squeeze slowing him down as you clamp around him and begin to cum.
“Yesyesyes!” Through your blurry vision you can see him crumbling on top of you. Forcing his cock in past your tight heat, if not for how pitchy his moans sing out you’d swear..
“Ah, I’m c-cumming! I’m cu-cumming!” Jisung’s face tightens up, kissing the backs of his teeth. Hips locked in place, cock twitching as he fills up the condom with warmth. He pants and hangs his head between his shoulders, hips circling on more time before pulling out slowly. An audible pop resounds once he’s emptied you, flopping onto the bed by your side, stripping the condom off to give his dick a break for a moment, he throws it aside and lays back catching his breath. “No better way to relax than that..”
You wish you could say the same, already seeking your nails to chew on. That couldn’t have been too long, right? You need to check your phone, Jeno could have surely hunted you down by now if you’d even taken longer than a minute to respond. Maybe he’s really trying to respect your boundaries for once. Either way, you need to get out of here.
Tip toeing on to his bedroom floor, you step back into your clothes, quietly gathering your things to not wake him. Waking him could lead to conversation and more time you’d have to spend here..
There’s something you can only describe as guilt infiltrating your mostly pleased thoughts. Sneaking out of Jisung’s house was easy, scribbling off a note quickly that you’d see him at school later.
Jeno could be waiting outside where he dropped you off, you told him not to.. but he worries about you a lot. He’s always worried about you, it’s nice actually. It’s nice how much he cares about you, hell.. he checks in on you more than even your own parents.
God. What the hell are you thinking? Who cares if he worries about you. He’s a fucking psycho is what he is. Why are you even thinking about him right now? After everything that’s happened.
Jisung’s really nice, he’s really smart, seems to have a good head on his shoulders. Yet Jeno.. Jeno feels like an infection you can’t find the cure for at this point. He’s everywhere, every time you shut your eyes, whenever you wake up, he’s the first person you think about, the first person you want to see.
This is ridiculous, you’re just tired, that’s it. Too tired to wait for Jeno to come get you. It’ll be best to take the bus back to your studio today, he’d probably make you go home with him and keep you up way too late. His bed may be nicer than yours, sure. His bathroom an actual personal bathroom, and as your ‘boyfriend’ he always makes sure you’re well fed. The grumble your stomach lets out doesn’t go unnoticed, ignoring it as you pick up your phone to shoot off a text message.
‘Really tired. Heading home. See you in the morning.’
Reading over your text before sending it, you chew at dry skin around your nails, dropping your hand quickly as if Jeno’s slapped it down again. He always does, reprimands you whenever you bite your nails or rip the dead skin off with your teeth. He does it because he cares about you, right?
Fuck him. Seriously fuck that asshole.
Pressing your thumb down earnestly, you send the text and shut your phone off, bringing your thumb up to your lip to rip off an annoying piece of skin.
“Shit.” You hiss, shaking off your hand. More came off, opening a wound and stinging around the cuticle. Shining with red blood that rushed to fill up the divots around your nail bed.
Jeno would probably glare at you, raise your thumb to his mouth to suck on. He’d make it hurt less..
Brushing those thoughts aside, you pocket your fingers and tighten your jacket, making your way toward the nearest bus stop. He won’t like that you turned off your phone, he won’t like that you took public transport home instead of waiting for him, he doesn’t like anything really.
Except you..
It’s been a long while since you’ve taken the bus home, and it’s late, mostly empty. It’s hard to not notice a couple curled up in one of the two seaters, laughing at something on a phone together. Sometimes you watch things with Jeno, and you try to keep your amusement at bay, you try to emit nothing other than misery, but it’s become something you secretly look forward to these days..
Why do you keep thinking about him? What if Jisung’s texting you? Glancing at your blacked out phone screen, you wonder if he is, he could be.. Jisung seems to like you. He seems normal..
Normal could be nice.
Normal.
Why can’t you and Jeno be normal? What if you are?
Coming home alone without him by your side seems odd now. This isn’t normal anymore, this isn’t your normal anymore.
Jeno is your normal.
As you crawl into bed and take a deep sigh, you can’t help but to wrap yourself up tighter, curl up into a more fettle helpless position, and you can’t stop the tears that erupt from your eyes until they blur your vision and make your head pound.
He should be here, he should be here to keep you safe and warm, but he’s not, and nothing feels normal anymore.
・ ⋆ ・ ⠄⠂⋆ ・ ⠄⠂⋆ ・ ⠄⠂⋆ ・ ⠄⠂⋆ ・ ⠄⠂⋆ ・ ⋆ ・ ⠄⠂⋆ ・・ ⋆ ・
One thing about Jeno you’ve noticed is that he is always on time. He’s extremely punctual, and if he’s not, he always, without fail, will make sure to alert you with a call or text.
Today’s different.
Because even when you turned your phone on this morning and rubbed sleepy dry tears from your swollen eyes, no notifications from Jeno appeared.
Jisung had sent a few messages, thanking you for a great time and hoping you made it home safe. The last text you sent Jeno hadn’t even been opened, and his read receipts have always been turned on for as long as you’ve known him..
He’ll show up outside of your complex at 8 o’clock on the dot as usual. Maybe he forgot to charge his phone(that’s unlike him).
But 8am comes around, and his car doesn’t round the corner, and minutes tick by, and he doesn’t show up. Each glance at your phone screen feels more like a plea for something, silently begging for a text or call to appear. Something to indicate he’s on his way, maybe traffic is heavier than usual today..
‘Hey. I’m waiting outside.’
You never add emojis. Keep messages as short and simple as you can. It would come across as too nice, too weird given the dynamic of your relationship, but that doesn’t stop your thumb from hovering over a smiley face before hitting send. Shaking it off, you watch the minutes go by, nursing the cut up cuticle you ripped off last night between your lips. If you don’t leave soon to catch the bus you’ll be late.
One more minute, you’ll wait one more minute before running to catch the next bus.
‘Is everything okay?’
What if he got into an accident? Did Jeno even make it home yesterday after dropping you off? What if he’s in a hospital bed somewhere, disfigured, all alone without anyone to keep him company? What are you even thinking right now?!
It doesn’t calm your nerves a bit that he hasn’t opened a single text message you’ve sent. Doesn’t help as you cram onto a crowded bus and worry your thumb down to raw skin, biting every little piece you can get your teeth on. Doesn’t help that you can’t stop glancing at your phone, envisioning each terrible outcome.
He’ll be at school, he’ll be waiting at your lockers and walk you to class, sit by your side as usual. Throw out an assload of compliments that piss you off, stare at you and play with your hair. It’s fine, everything is fine, he’s a good driver. How could he possibly get into an accident? Jeno? Never.
But he’s not waiting at your lockers, even as you stand around longer peering up and down the hallway for him to show up. You can’t ask anyone if they’ve seen him either, it’s not like you know anyone to ask.
He’s not in your first class, doesn’t show up for second period, or third, and your phone never once dings with a new notification.
Even as your names are called out to grab attendance and you silently pray he’ll appear at the classroom door out of breath, finding your surprised gaze on him. A huge smile will stretch his cheeks into a bundle of wrinkles, eyes disappearing when he meets yours.
But that doesn’t happen, and in a panic you send off a slew of text messages, biting your nails down to nothing but raw skin.
‘Is everything okay Jeno? Did your phone die?’
‘I’m at school. Should I meet you for lunch somewhere?’
‘Are you sick?’
There’s no way to explain the fear clawing at your chest, the rumble in your stomach, the ache that pangs through your heart. It’s not because you care about him, he doesn’t deserve that from you, not even out of human decency. But maybe, just maybe, you are worried, because Jeno’s face has become such a normal part of your daily life. His light touches, a gaze that never loses sight of you, a powerful aura that wraps you up behind an invisible shield that makes you feel safe. As insane as it feels to even contemplate, you can’t help it.
He’s a disease, streaming through your blood, destroying all of your white blood cells and leaving you with no option other than to rely on him to survive. Some may even consider that love, if you think about it.
He sought you out in the first place, didn’t he? Took notice of something special in you that clearly no one else does. Like right now as you walk to your locker, head hung low, no one cares. No one’s looking at you, no one notices you or sees you. They always see you when Jeno’s by your side. He’s the bright light that illuminates around you, and you? You’re nothing.
Jeno made you something though. He made you his.
How hasn’t he replied yet?!? What the hell is his problem! You’d scream if you could, that’s how desperate you feel, not even a god damn text? Nothing?!
You could always leave.. take the bus to his house. It’s possible he is severely injured after all, his parents might not even have a clue. It’s the least you can do, at least inform them that their son’s on his deathbed because of a horrific accident. Because that’s the only logical explanation you can fathom for why he hasn’t attempted to contact you even once since yesterday. It’s your fault too, if he really got into a bad car wreck after dropping you off. Yeah, you should definitely take the rest of the day off, it’s the right thing to do..
Adding speed to your steps, you rush toward your locker to grab your bag, prying it open quickly and nearly missing the folded note that slips out. A note.. with very familiar handwriting. A note in your locker after all this time, exactly like the ones you used to receive..
‘It’s been awhile hasn’t it angel? I haven’t felt the need to speak to you like this in such a long time now it seems. We have grown so close now, there are times I catch your gaze wandering away from me. I realize in those moments how much I’ve truly given up for you.
I lost my friends, carry guilt on my back of getting caught; that Haechan will find the courage to snitch me out.. The chance of my father disowning me for ruining his one chance to free himself from this impoverishment. In those moments I know you look away silently praying for someone to save you, when really, it’s been me all along.
I’ve only ever wanted to save you because you deserve better than this. I’m waiting for you, I know you’re smart enough to find your way.
-Your Teddy Bear’
This has to be a sick joke, you fully believe this has to be a sick joke; but your lip twitches, your tongue presses to the fronts of your teeth, and you can feel moisture itching at the backs of your eyes.
Jeno hadn’t picked you up today, he never sent a message to explain why. The last he’d spoken with you was on the car ride over to Jisung’s, and even then you never said much. He hadn’t said much either if you really think back, stay silent for most of the drive.
The last place you want to revisit is room 0423 after that day.
‘I’m waiting for you.’
Stoic and zombie-like your feet drag through the halls finding your way to the abandoned sector of the school. Because he’s waiting, and like a fool you’ve been waiting for him too.
You couldn’t process a thought, mindless as you found your way in front of the door that read 0423 before you. At this point there isn’t much else Jeno can pull to surprise you. Probably planning a setup of some sort to commemorate the day he met you, since it matters to him so much.
“Don’t act shy and stand out there forever, I’m waiting.” His voice echoes through the small opening, leaving the door cracked enough for you to know to come inside.
Everything appears to be the same as you remember, other than the giant teddy bear Jeno gifted you sitting at the teacher's table, his back facing you from where he sits on one of the student desks at the front row.
“Took you long enough to show up. I expected you’d be sick to your stomach without me, buried with your face in a porcelain bowl. Although, I must say, your messages have been quite entertaining.” Jeno begins to speak, his back muscles flexing as he laughs sarcastically. His neck bends forward, nodding to himself. “I won’t lie, I didn’t expect even that much from you. I dare say, you seemed frantic, worried even..”
“Why did you want me to come back here?” You ask softly, inching closer to where he sits. Jeno listens to the sound of your sneakers drag against the linoleum floor, he listens to your calm breath, he listens to your nails scratch by on each desk you pass, and he smiles stiffly.
“You really think I’m stupid, don’t you?” Jeno’s teeth grit, fisting a remote control in his grip. He stands up abruptly in a way that startles you. Instinctively lifting your fists to cover your face as you gasp. Rolling his eyes, he grips onto a curtain near the corner covering up an old school television, and he turns to face you.
If looks could kill, you know that you’d be laid out on the floor bleeding out right now. He bores into you with a laser sharp gaze, slicing through your chest with a level of intensity he’s kept calm for weeks.
“Answer me.”
Jeno’s throat shakes, his knuckles saturated in white, cuts of blood red and hues of pink from punching who knows what or who.. and for a quick second you think he may cry as he rapidly blinks away moisture that’s teetering at the brims of his eyes.
“No Jeno.. I don’t think you’re stupid.”
“I’ve never liked when you lie.” He nods, sniffling loud and hitting play. “You always look dead behind the eyes when you lie, did you know that? Because even you know that deep down inside no matter how much you hate me, lying isn’t your style.”
The black tv screen illuminates, a dim video of sheets that make your eyes squint, familiar..
“Is that—“ the camera zooms out before you can even speculate, cutting off your breath. “N-no—there’s no wa—“
Jeno sneers, dragging the back of his hand across his eyes and nose. He turns the volume up until your pleasured moans resound throughout the classroom, cascading down the walls and your frame like lashings. The camera doesn’t bother to focus on Jisung once, zoomed in on your face, your mouth hung open, the lines formed between your eyebrows.
“H-how..” bile rises up your throat, stepping back until your butt meets the ledge of a desk. There’s no way Jeno could have known, how HOW could he—
“I know what you’re thinking.” He says smoothly, the tears dried up and gone. Spinning on one foot to face you and waved the remote in your direction. “You thought he really liked you, right?”
“N-no it’s n-not that—“
“What did I tell you about lying?” He grite, placating you with a cold hard stare. “I could have saved us the trouble of dealing with any of this. I knew from the second I saw you talking to him in class, I knew from that moment. You looked so happy.” He scoffs, head shaking, pausing the video. “You looked so fucking happy and hopeful, the same way you looked when I saw you talking to Haechan in the library before.”
He takes a deep dramatic breath, tossing the remote aside, arms free to cross over his chest and lock you in place with one of the most fear-inducing looks you’ve ever seen. “You never look at me like that. You never even tell me that you love me, and you pretend..” Jeno shifts back, turning his body away from you. “You pretend to hate me.”
Everything inside of you screams to say something, to tell him that he’s wrong, that you do hate him. But there’s that pain in your chest again, the one that feels worse than any pain you’ve ever felt, worse than when Haechan moved away and slowly forgot about you. Worse than when he ignored you after you had sex..
It’s a pain that only Jeno can pull out of you. It’s denial, hate, love, anger, fear, obsession, worry, and right now, that pain fills you with terror. He knows, and more than worrying about what he’ll do to you, you can’t stop the tears from flowing out at the thought of losing him.
“I-I’m sorr—“
“Stop.” He snaps quickly, fully turning away and motioning to the classroom stock closet. “You can come out now.”
Through your bleary vision, you see him come out, big smile, broad and tall. Cocky as he clasp hands with Jeno and shoots you a wink over his shoulder. “You’ll send me a copy too, right?”
“Get the fuck out.” Jeno jeers, crashing his shoulder into Jisung’s side. “Good job though, the money should be in your account.”
“Yeah of course man, anytime.” He smirks before turning to face you, winking as he makes way to pass by you. “And you, I really did have a good time last night.” He leans it quickly to whisper. “If this weird shit you have going on doesn’t work out, you know where to find me.”
“Please…please!” You stammer, feeling overwhelmed and overheated the longer you have to listen to yourself get fucked through all of this. Every bit of confusion struggles to clear as your mind rages and grows heavy, painfully beating through your skull. “Turn it off! Please!”
Jeno snickers, ripping the TV’s power cord out. “Not that you deserve peace of mind right now.” He mumbles, petting the teddy bear he gifted you on your anniversary. “What were you thinking?”
“I..”
What were you thinking??? Obviously you were thinking that your classmate who you’ve secretly had a small liking for may have a small liking for you in return. There’s nothing else to say, you fell right into Jenoms trap, you always will..
“Don’t answer that.” He says, turning toward you with an unrelenting penetrating gaze. “I know what you were thinking. I always know what you’re thinking.”
He steps closer, trapping you against the desk holding your weight up. Weakness takes over your ankles and knees, dropping head head to hang, too ashamed to even look at him. More embarrassed than ashamed.. why should you feel ashamed?
“You thought a guy like that could seriously like you? What’s it going to take for you to learn this lesson?” Jeno continues, voice cutting deep and sharp. “No one here will ever like you except me. Jisung may pity fuck you out of boredom, but he’d never bring a girl like you home. He’d never take you serious, he’ll never give a real fuck about you.”
“T-this whole time..” you stutter, biting down on your lip. “You k-knew this whole time.”
“Pft.” He bends in to meet you eye level, still standing straight to loom over your slouched frame. “I’m always watching you.”
Jeno’s tongue clicks, whistling lowly, taking a step back to snap his fingers in a sarcastic manner. “You know who else could give a shit about you? Haechan.” He nods, finding your red wet eyes. “Haechan who hasn’t acknowledged your existence ever since that day.”
“N-no..” tremors vibrate up your throat, gripping onto the desk beneath you to keep yourself up. “There’s no way..”
“I had a sliver of hope, you know?” He sighs, rubbing at his temples. “I thought maybe you finally understood that Haechan could give a fuck about whatever it is you used to have. That stupid childhood friendship you cherish and hold onto still.” He pauses to look at you, blinking glassy eyes away. “I can’t trust you, even after all that I do to prove to you that you belong with me.”
“This—this isn’t—“
“Haechan—he’ll never love you, he’ll never see you as anything more than some poor loser from his past.” He interrupts, hissing between his teeth. “Jisung, even fatter chance. I’ve explained this to you so many times now. When will you get it.”
“Why are you doing this to me?!” You screech, louder than you even thought possible. Tears rush towards your chin, digging your nails into the cheap old desk wood. “Why me?!?”
Jeno scoops your face, thumbing your wet cheeks softly, almost gently. His own eyes shake, pouring out from the corners. “Because.” He breathes in deep through his nose, wet voice coming out shattered. “I love you.”
I love you I love you I love you. Those three words repeat over and over again, a face full of anger turning into one you can hardly recognize anymore, fingers dug into your cheeks as if he can somehow force you to believe him this way. It hurts to watch more than anything, as Jeno crumbles and falls to his knees, arms wrapped tight around your hips screaming manically that he loves you.
He. Loves. You.
Haechan doesn’t love you, and a guy like Jisung could never love you..
He’s right. Jeno’s right. He’s been right from the very beginning. You could have listened, avoided all of this? The normalcy you wished to have with him, whatever that could have been.. if it ever could have been.
“Why won’t you love me?!” He sounds broken, distraught, hopeless. The hug around your lower half burns, feels like you’ll never be free, you’ll never get away from him.
You don’t want to get away from him anymore.
“I love you, Jeno..” you can hear your voice empty of life as it exits your lips. The image before you too blurry to even make out past your tear-filled gaze. “I love you.”
The grip on your hips loosens, tears calming to a round of sniffles, he stops shaking and slowly lifts his face to look at you. “Say that again.”
Cold, emotionless, demanding. That’s the tone you’re used to..
“I love you.”
Jeno stands back up, quickly cleaning his eyes off with the heel of his palms. A large smile altering the anger and sadness he just displayed seconds ago. “My Teddy.”
He rambles, words slurred together as you fail to process anything that’s just happened. Could this have ever been normal? Or is this simply who Jeno is? He’s obsessive, crazed, dominant and deranged.
“I know you love me.” He sighs happily, tugging you in close and rubbing along your spine. “I knew when you made Jisung put on a condom.”
The way spit clogs up your throat at that makes you choke on your next breath, Jeno’s laugh rumbling against your chest as he pats your back to help you. “I thought so after you made Haechan use one, but this really confirmed it. You wanted to hurt me, wanted to make me jealous..” his voice lowers, shifting to whisper in your ear. “But deep down inside you know I’m the only one you want to fuck you full of cum.”
There’s no point in questioning anything, you know he hates when you do that. You know that he has ways to find out things that you can’t begin to understand. “I know baby, that’s why I had to replace your prescription too. Those mints you always popped in your mouth after eating lunch. It’s cute how you play these little mind games with me..”
Mints?! The birth control you started taking after.. that first time. You knew he was evil, mentally deranged, but fucking your with medication?!
“M-my mints??” You ask in disbelief, having to bite down on the backs of your teeth to stop your jaw from hanging.
Jeno waves a finger at you, tapping your nose. “I don’t believe in that birth control shit.”
And there it is, the same Jeno you became familiar with in this very room. The same one that turns your dreams into nightmares, that makes you look over your shoulder constantly, the one that’s imprisoned you in this inescapable hell.
“It’s cute how you still think you can out-smart me.” He says sternly, pinching your chin. “But nothing about your constant lying is cute.”
He leans in close, eyes wide open taking in your despair, licking up the tears that seem endless. Everything, all of this, you were never going to win. Winning was never an option.
“You’re so special to me.” Sucking at the droplets dangling from your chin, he nips up your jaw to swallow your earlobe. “So special and real, remind me so much of him. Who he used to be.”
Because that’s really what this all boils down to. You never willingly fell for Jeno’s charms the way everyone else does, he had to force this, and even then you didn’t give. You held on to the last bits of yourself that remained raw and real, you chose to love and accept who you are even when he diminished your worth. And that drove him crazy, tickled him in places he forgot existed, reignited those memories of who his best friend once was.
“I love you.” Jeno repeats, whispering just for you, not that anyone could even hear your screams here from room 0423. No one heard you the last time, no one helped, no one cares.
“I love you too.” The tears that pour down from your upper lip could come across as tears of joy. From an outsider's point of view this could look like the happiest moment of your life. Sharing confessions of love with your boyfriend, a handsome young man who can only be described as obsessed with you, but they aren’t happy tears; and as Jeno grins, squatting down to scoop you up, you have to swallow the rancid bile rising up your throat. Laid back down on the same desk he first had his way with you on, the same place he made you shut up and take it.
It’s crazy and out of body when Jeno’s palms drag down your sides, unbutton your top and reaches under your back to unhook your bra. He’s done it many times, it’s muscle memory at this point removing your clothes. Each small drag of his fingertips feel more chilling, crashing waves of shock throughout your system. Even as he strips you nude and licks down your inner thighs you lay there stoic, gaze unwavering from where he stands between your legs taking time to stroke over your figure.
“What’re you thinking about teddy?” He coos, kissing along the tender skin lining your inner thigh. “You look like a lot is going on inside that pretty head..”
What are you thinking? You’re not thinking much of anything. Unable to process a singular thought as you watch him bend in and kiss down the center of your sternum, trailing down to your navel. There’s nothing else you can say right now, nothing else you want to say as tears collect and spill over, running down to your ears.
“I missed you, I missed you so much.”
Jeno slowly cranes his head up to find your tear-filled gaze, he slowly reaches to cup your face, slowly smiles. It all seems too slow in comparison to the breakdown you’re having. Shaking down to the tips of your fingers and toes, body wracked with sobs as he sits you up and thumbs at your wet cheeks.
“Did you sweetheart? You missed me?”
“Y-yes!” You cry out watery, throwing your arms around his waist to pull him in close between your thighs. “You left me, you didn’t come. You always pick me up, you’re always there.”
Jeno falls silent, basking in your misery, savoring the wash of success that rains down on him. He’s broken you, dropped each piece of the puzzle only to reassemble it the way he wants. Broken, fixed, he did that, made you his and only his. His hands reach under your top, stroking up your spine and cooing in your ear. “I’m always there, I’ll always be there.”
That’s his promise, that he’ll always be there for you. He’ll always watch out for you, even if it’s not in the traditional romantic way you’d dreamt of as a child. It’s still special, you’re still special to him. And that’s enough, that’s really enough. Because your body calms down, and your nose finds comfort in his clean scent, eyes falling shut as you begin to relax under his touch.
He straightens out to kiss your cheeks, smooth your hair away from your face and take in the sadness streaked across your iris. It’s sadness with a hint of hope, a hint of something he’s never noticed before. You’re finally looking at him like he means something to you, and that makes Jeno’s chest swell. Heart beating rapidly as he leans in to catch your lips and suck on each until they blister under his bites.
He never kisses you softly when you’re alone, and maybe you like that. He’s passionate and rough, takes control of your mouth and tastes through every little crevice inside. He always tastes good and lingers on your tongue for hours throughout the day, but you like that. You need to feel him, smell him, taste him, belong to him. You need him to remind you of who you belong to when you start to stray and seek attention from anyone else.
“Would you hurt me?” You asked him before, and as your eyebrows crush together while kissing him you have to ask again. Because Haechan hurt you, he hurt you so bad. Jisung hurt you, he hurt you more than he’ll ever know. But Jeno.. he can’t hurt you. If he ever hurt you, there’s no way to predict what you’d do..
“Only if you hurt me.” He says in a serious tone, pulling back to look in your eyes. “You won’t, not anymore. You love me.”
“I—I do, I love you.”
It’s final, it’s your love story. Here in room 0423, the school you worked hard to get into, the scholarship you stayed up late day and night putting in extra credit for. All of that led to this moment in time with Jeno. Led you to your destiny, to the man that loves you.
“I know teddy, I’ve always known.” Taking your hands, he kisses down your fingers from the tips, spending extra time on your knuckles, turning them to drag his lips over your palms. “I have plans for us, our future.”
Plans. Future. Whatever that means.. you’re just happy to be here with him. To let him place your hands on his cock, laugh quietly at the way your fingers can barely wrap around him. “You’d never ask me to wear a condom.” He mumbles. He’s proud of that, says it in a boisterous tone.
“Never.” You agree solemnly.
That’s the best part of this victory. You were never a simple one time fuck, you were always meant to be more. He had to break you down beyond whatever voided space sex could fill, had to ensure your only need in life should ever be him.
It’s easier to lift your legs up and prop your feet on the desk, fully exposing your core. You still whimper and hide your face, still give off a facade of not wanting it.
He wants you to watch, see every second of him filling you up from inside out. To know that your body belongs to him, that he made you this way. He slaps your thighs to get you to hold yourself open, grabbing onto the base of his cock to stroke. Free hand finding your hair to ball up in his grip and keep your neck bent down. “Want my cock sweetheart?”
Jeno shakes you by the tuft of hair in his hold, nodding your head up and down. “I know the small little dicks you let fuck you weren’t shit.”
The way your hips stutter at that and wet arousal bubbles from your hole makes his cock twitch, inching closer to pick up a dollop of your slick, spreading it up to your clit with the tip of his length.
Thankful for the rubber sole of your shoes keeping your feet in place, you moan, biting it down still out of habit. His cock is nice, thick, covered in large projected veins. The fat pink tip dips in past your clenched hole, forcing a gushing wet sound to echo throughout the classroom. It should be humiliating but your body says otherwise, squeezing out more of your arousal with each teasing prod of his cock.
He plays with you like that for a while, to get you desperate and needy the way he likes. Cockhead probbing in and out enough for the mass of his bulbous tip to disappear inside of you.
“J-Jeno..”
That’s it, that’s what he likes to hear. That shattered little way you say his name. He bends in again to lick your cheek clean, dragging his lips to your ear. “Don’t take your eyes off my cock, if you do I won’t be nice.”
That’s how he talks to you, none of that lovey dovey shit when you don’t actually want it. He talks to you like you’re dumb, like you need to be told what to do, and sometimes you do. Times like these when you relinquish all control of yourself and let him turn you into a puppet, you need to be told to speak and listen, to watch and enjoy. He’s good at that, at making you feel small when you need to.
Weakly nodding, you scoot back to get a better grip on the backs of your upper thigh, hold yourself fully open for him. It’s commemorative being here like this again, on this desk, watching him begin to slowly push his fat girth in.
His hands travel down to hold your cunt open, making it stretch even more as you take and take. It always hurts a little bit trying to take all of his length at once, a good hurt, the type the tingles from the end of your spine to your brain. Watching it split you open this up close makes the pain even more surreal, drooling from your mouth like a starved animal. Pussy drooling around his cock the more he buries in, skin pulled taut around the thick shaft.
“Do you see?” Jeno says deep and raspy, pushing in more than half of his mass already. He fingers your clit for a minute, watching your hole convulse around him. “See how damn good you take it baby? You’re so good for me.”
“Unnghhh..” you wanna kick your legs out, throw yourself on him, wrap your arms around his neck. You have to wait, be patient and watch the rest of his size push in. “S-so big.”
“Was made for you.” He says clearly, through the fog clouding your ears. “Was made to fuck you teddy, that’s why I feel so good inside of you. We’re perfect for each other.”
Hearing that makes you brain melt, dropping your head to hang only for Jeno to wrap around your throat and lift your head up, burning you with his fierce gaze.
“When you kissed Haechan,” his hands constraint around your neck, jerking your head to look at him. “Was your body still screaming for me? Is that why you missed me?”
When he says he knows everything about you he really means it. Down to the infestation of emotions crushing your soul everyday. He knows you’ll never be able to recover from what he’s put you through, you’ll always be addicted, crawling like a fiend for the next hit.
“You were thinking of me, that’s it right? With your lips pressed tightly up against his skin.” He says in the most condescending tone, dragging the tips of his fingers up your jaw while keeping a tight clasp around your throat. “Was he even worth the fuck?”
In the end, he wasn’t, your eyes tell Jeno everything he needs to know. The ache and lust, pangs of guilt muddled between. “Did he fuck you like this?”
The rest of his length sinks in, thrusting in the fat base of his cock ruthlessly, nearly losing your balance if not for the chokehold he has you in. “He’d never fuck you like this, not the way you need. Nobody ever will.”
To drive it home he pulls out completely, making your pussy gape wide open and dribble a wad of wetness out that spills onto the classroom floor. You want to agree with him, tell him that he’s right, that he’s the only one that will ever fulfill your needs now, coughing and blubbering your whimpers as you try to inhale. He fucks into you like a rabid feral wolf, plunging his cock in and out all the way to hear your gurgled scream. It hurts it hurts it hurts, it hurts so fucking good.
The more animalistic he becomes, the more your skin drips with sweat, straining to keep yourself in this position on the desk. Legs more like jelly as your feet begin to slip and your ass slides forward. Jeno only pummels into you faster, determined to rip through your womb, leave a mark on your cervix.
He grunts wildly, releasing your neck abruptly to wrap around your waist and cup your ass right as you nearly fall off the desk. Each thrust inside feels more erratic than the last, diving his cock in deeper than you’ve ever felt anything reach. He’s relentless, growling through it all, exerting power and anger as he hoists you up by your ass and your legs wrap around his hips limply.
“Fuck my baby into you.” He grunts furiously, throwing your body up and down on his cock. Hand prints bloom on your throat, dropping your head back to let out a howling moan, crying out for only Jeno to save you now. For Jeno to do whatever he wants with you.
Your cries has him laying you back on the desk, needing to see for himself how broken and pathetic you look. Hauling your thighs to wrap around him securely to not lose an inch of warmth blanketing his length. He pounds in balls deep, the clap of his sack meeting your ass resounding throughout the room wet and loud, making your legs tremble with each barreling thrust.
“Yeah? Fuck you full of my kids.” He growls, reaching for your shoulders to really lose it on you. Jerking back up the desk by each violent smack of his hips crashing down on you. It’s the crazed look in his eyes that hurdles you back into the last time, catching the faded sound of your pleading, of your denial. Screaming out no no! Over and over again, only for him to ignore you, have his way and ruin you for anyone else.
“P-please—“ you cry, squeezing around his meaty girth as much as you’re able to, feet dangling bonelessly behind him. “P-please, make me y-yours.”
It could have been this way last time, wanting him to have you instead of begging him to stop. It could have been normal, but the two of you were never destined for that. You were meant to be his as much as he was made to be yours. The wet smack of his balls turns messy, the looming broad frame mounting you losing his composure as you look up at him and more tears trail down your cheeks.
“You always look prettiest when you cry.” Jeno grits out, falling down against you to slam home a few more jerky thrusts. Cock spurting out enough cum to surely knock you up, pushing it in deep with each digging swivel of his hips and he grabs onto your chin and laps your hot cheek clean of tears.
“Might have to keep getting you pregnant after this..” he mumbles, kissing the swell of your lips. “Fuck your ass in the mean time while you’re knocked up. I know how my teddy likes it..”
It’s hot and sticky between your bodies, nodding slowly at what he says, you suck on his thumb until both of you have calmed and caught your breath.
He’s not just inside of you, he’s seeping from your pores, infiltrating your nervous system, tearing you open from inside out. Each exhausted breath he takes lines up to yours, blinking simultaneously, twitching through the aftershocks of your orgasm at the same time. He’s yours, and you are his. One soul, one heart, one love combining you.
“I love you.” He pants, reaching between your sweaty bodies to smooth his palm over your extended stomach, bulging out with his cock lodged in so deep. “I love us.”
Jeno did more than ruin your life. He destroyed everything you’ve worked hard for. Shattering your hopes and dreams, demolishing any type of independence you strived to achieve, he stripped all those dreams away.
He’s your new dream.
“I love you too.”
He hums, shifting to bracket your head with his biceps, littering gentle kisses across your wet tear-stained cheeks. “I know teddy, I know.”
・ ⋆ ・ ⠄⠂⋆ ・ ⠄⠂⋆ ・ ⠄⠂⋆ ・ ⠄⠂⋆ ・ ⠄⠂⋆ ・ ⋆ ・ ⠄⠂⋆ ・・ ⋆ ・
There are many ways you envisioned the future. Flying cars, trains that can get you from one side of a state to another at the speed of light, maybe even actual superheroes.
You can even recall sitting side by side with Haechan reading Uzumaki after the fight you had that brought you into each other’s lives in the first place. If you hadn’t wanted to read that damn manga so bad, if you had just shown up at the comic book store any other day. He had sat there with you, thigh pressed to yours, bangs too long and shabby, flicking up with each blink.
You thought it was nice, to like a boy, to have a crush. It was nice to go home and giggle while brushing your teeth, sent off to dream after your mom tucked you in. Haechan had appeared, the Haechan he’d grow up to be someday. The Haechan you wanted him to be someday, but the thing about dreams is they’re silly.
“I don’t believe in dreams.” Jeno says behind you, zipping up the back of your dress. “There’s more power in manifestation.”
But dreams are manifestations if you think about it, and while you dreamt of the future with Haechan, you remember it had been just like Uzumaki.
Spirals had begun to sprout up in the small town around you, driving everyone insane. Infecting each inch of surface and land, and you, you reached for Haechan as he escaped the swarm of spirals. You screamed, shouted, pleaded for him to grab a hold of your hands and save you.
And then you woke up, sitting up in your childhood bed feeling a sense of dread.
“I manifested you.” Jeno kisses your nape, fixing your hair into place. “My Teddy.”
No. He didn’t. That’s what you want to say, to let him know. He didn’t manifest you, you let him in years ago when Haechan stood there in your dream. Watched you get swallowed up by the spirals, the exact same way he watched Jeno swallow you whole. He did nothing then, he did nothing now, exactly like your dream.
It’s been a week now since you last went to class. A week now since you moved out of your studio apartment, Jeno reminding you that ‘That shithole is no place for my soon-to-be wife to live.’ as he drove you to a new apartment. Furnished, never lived in, a great view of the city, and two bedrooms.
‘Until I’ve saved up enough for a house, this will be perfect for our little family.’
He kisses your forehead and held you close, admiring the scenery outside of your bedroom window. ‘You’ll never have to worry about anything again.’
Don’t ask questions, don’t worry, just trust him.
Because he knows you’d never handle the truth without a fight. The anonymous threats he holds over Haechan’s father’s head, the thousands of dollars he’s set aside just to get you away from your childhood friend. It’s all been a part of his plan, and thankfully it worked. Of course it did, everything works out for Jeno.
“We won’t stay out too late.” Jeno smiles, reaching over to the passenger seat to tweak your chin. “You look so fucking cute in that costume.”
“I feel fat.” You mumble, poking at your exposed stomach.
“Don’t start.” He tuts, slapping your hand away. “You look like my fluffy cute teddy.”
You really do. Wearing fluffy round ears on your head, fuzzy tan brown bralette and matching shorts with a puffed tail attached. Jeno held up the costume with a huge smile, tossing it your way only a few hours ago and letting you know to get ready for a Halloween party tonight.
His costume seemed much more simple, nothing more than a Michael Meyers face mask and his usual attire. Tight black tee, fitted dark wash jeans, combat boots, studded leather belt.
You look really good too Jeno.
That’s what you wanted to say, especially after the last few weeks of falling asleep in the same bed together. You really really really wanted to say it, to tell him he looks hot, sexy, devastatingly attractive.
You say nothing though, following along with his arm around your shoulder through a throng of partygoers dancing around in their fun costumes. Fairies, iconic characters, Barbies, Bratz Dollz, cops and robbers. It’s fun really, your first Halloween party, your first Halloween party with your boyfriend.
“Water?” He hands you a cup of clear liquid, ignoring the bottles of alcohol lined up atop the kitchen counter of whoevers house this is.
“Thanks.”
He nods, directing you to a long winding staircase leading you up to an enormous hallway entrance. Rich people of course, luxurious decor, expensive paintings, every inch of this place spotless surely thanks to a 24 hour live-in maid service.
“There’s still one last thing I need to fix for you.”
Jeno walks backward, facing you with that blank faced mask on, arms prominent and flexed in the confines of his tight shirt. “That’s why we’re here Teddy.”
What could that even mean? One last thing to fix for you. Nothing can be fixed anymore.
“Come here baby.” It’s dark up here, darker in the room he tugs you inside of, immediately pinning your body to the wall, digging his fingers into your waist. “How am I supposed to keep my hands off of you?” He grunts, turning you around to press your breasts to the wall, stroking your hair aside to kiss your nape and toy with the leather choker there.
He says that offhandedly sometimes while you’re lazing around in bed after waking up. It’s so hard to keep his hands off of you, he has no idea how he’ll manage once you give birth.
That’s why you’re here, surprised he even bothered to find a room to hide you away in. Among the many things Jeno likes, he loves to show you off, love for everyone to know you are his.
He doesn’t waste time to strip your panties off, dropping them to your ankles to squeeze your ass with his heavy thick palms. Holding you apart to watch your wrinkled rim flinch and tighten up. “Not tonight sweetheart. Gotta fuck your pretty pussy, you know that. Have to make sure your womb stays full.”
He still runs a thumb across your rim, just to watch your hips jut back, so needy.
“Stay still okay?” Jeno says sweetly, pointing to the door. “And don’t look away.”
He steps back for a minute, letting the cool air circulating around the room roll shivers up your back, chewing on your lip in anticipation.
You think you hear a click, something else familiar that you can’t exactly put your finger on before the warmth of his body returns and presses against you.
“Now where were we? My poor teddy, already making a mess.” He whispers against the shell of your ear, hand slipping between your thighs to rub the wetness around that's smeared down. “Should I fuck you now? Make my teddy feel real good?”
“Y-yes..” you whine, keeping your gaze locked on the door like he commanded. It’s not good to disobey Jeno, and you don’t intend to.
“Beg for it better than that..” the weight of his size smacks against your ass, hot and heavy. Letting you know he’s fully hard and ready to fuck. “Come on.”
“Please Jeno.. wanna feel f-full..” you do your best to sound sweet, docile and small. Anything to not spend another minute without him inside of you.
“Is that all I am to you? A big cock to get yourself off on? Huh?” He seeps between your thighs, gripping onto your hips firmly. Rocking his hips forward, the clap of his skin hitting the perk of your ass resounds. Your skin sticky from body shimmer and lotion, moistening up as he ruts between your thighs.
“N-no.. love you, love your cock too.” You whimper, having to bite down on your hand to not scream when he slaps your hip and lets out a deep pleased grunt.
“That’s what I like to hear sweetheart.” Without bothering to warn you, he pushes in, pausing a little more than halfway only to savor the wet trickle of arousal drenching his length. “Fuck, that’s how much you love my cock? Dripping this fucking much already.”
“Yesyesyes!” You nod into your hand, bumping your head against the wall. Biting down harder on your fingers as impending screams rise up your throat. Muffling the one that breaks free when he pushes into the hilt.
Jeno’s cock always feels like the first time everytime, so big and fucking thick. Penetrating deep in ways that don’t even seem humanly possible. He always makes you cum, makes you want to go again even when your body needs a break.
“L-love h-how full you m-make me!” You blabber, reaching to grab onto the wall as he builds up speed and starts to thrust faster. Palms slide up your waist to fuck you the way he wants, pulling out to the tip each time and diving the entirety of his length right back in to really make you feel and take every inch.
“You love it?! You love me?” He growls, sliding one hand lower to find your clit before you’re able to respond. He knows you’ll choke on your next words, making your pussy gush out more around him as he rams up and fucks you vigorously. “Answer me!”
“Yes yes! I love you!” You wail, bounced up and down fiercely. The angle placing the tip of his cock right under your navel. “Ah! Ah f-fuck!”
“Yeah, keep fucking saying that sweetheart.” He roars, biting at your shoulder, swiping your clit side to side. Thin fingers play you like a fiddle, stroking and pinching your clit until you’re clenching around him. Toes pointed off the ground, neck tossed back in ecstasy.
Jeno reaches so deep, he fills you up so so good, he stretches you open in a way you’ve become addicted to. Clawing at the wall on the brink of your orgasm, chanting repetitive begging between your moans. He eats it all up, groans against your skin, shoving his mask off as the door opens.
“That’s it Teddy,” fisting your hair, he shoves your cheek against the wall, maneuvering your face toward the stream of light that enters. “Milking my cock so fucking good.”
Haechan’s eyes meet yours, wide and bewildered, quickly scanning from Jeno back to you. “Cum for me, let him see how you really take it baby. Show that bitch who you fucking love.”
It hurts. The pleasure between your thighs taking over your lower half as your heart pinches and aches, the two powerful emotions crashing head to head. And Jeno thrusts in hard, swiping his fingers rapidly along the sides of your clit until you’re crying out, slapping the wall with a shout.
“That’s my girl, that’s my fucking girl.” He rasps behind you, cupping your face to bite down on your jaw. Through your dazed euphoria you think that’s your broken voice spewing out a song of IloveyouIloveyouIloveyou, eyes rolled back as the cool chill washes away from your skin with an overwhelming wave of heat.
Jeno sport’s the biggest and most wicked smile, watching Haechan’s face fall. The last thing his old best friend could snatch away from his life, successfully crushing the relationship you ever had with him. He watches his old friend back away disgusted, and he cums, filling you with a hot stream of white, exclaiming how much he loves you.
“Love you so much baby,” he’s never sounded so honest, so enthralled and at ease. Drawing your waist back with his ripped arms, wrapping a safe hold around you to keep your limbless body against his. “Love you enough to give you my baby.”
His palms glide down, ending in their new favorite spot right beneath your navel. Kissing up your neck softly, murmuring about the future. “You’ll never be able to get rid of me now Teddy. We’re one now, you and I.”
There’s a hint of threat laced in his words, gently petting the area where he’s imagined a small bump will begin to show soon.
They day you met Haechan and lost him broke your heart. The day you met Jeno turned your life upside down, discovered the shattered pieces and put them back together again, finally showing you what you’ve always secretly wished for.
“I love you Jeno.”
“I know.”
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bury me beneath the basswood tree
pairing: ghost/soap/reader [12k]
rating: 18+ only. minors don’t interact.
tags: non-con sex, kidnapping, stockholm syndrome, size kink, forced fellatio, forced cunnilingus, impact play, brief watersports, double penetration in two holes, forced breeding, implied hybrid/shifter au
Needing time away from her humdrum life at home, she ventures into the woodland for respite. Little does she know, straying into that cabin in the woods will be the worst—or best—decision she’ll ever make. Depending on who you ask.
all my thanks to @/ohbo-ohno! thank you for being the best beta reader and sitting through my abhorrent typos <3
AO3 MIRROR
The mountain’s breadth of trees and foliage are written with prose.
It’s repetitive. Mind-numbing. She’s already passed this necrosed tree stump five times before. On the sixth circle, she treks through the undergrowth like it’s curdled milk, the tiny scythes of branches whispering against her arms and slicing her open the same way thumbs tear into oranges.
Dehydration crystallises like sediment in her mouth. It makes her bones heavy, bending against her flesh as if they’re groceries about to tear through a plastic bag. The balls of her feet are calcified, her thighs chafed. They rub against her threadbare jeans the same way a match reacts with red phosphorus to produce a flame. It burns, and so do her muscles. They feel moth-eaten and spent. Hung out to dry.
The stench of damp soil and sugar maple impairs her like an opiate. The peal of idle birdsongs grate against her ears. She’s sick of it—she’s been here for three days—and already, she’s sick of it.
She tries her phone again. It’s unresponsive, no signal. She unfurls her map but it’s mottled with rainwater and mud. Her lungs feel dry, pruney, as the dew drops slipping off fern plants seem to replicate the tears thawing in her eyes.
Evening mist hangs over the ground, and the sky turns red-bottomed as it progresses into nightfall. It’s as if the mountain is sentient. Nocturnal. Stirring from a torpor once the sun sets and awakening all that lives within it.
A sob wracks her ribs. It has the same effect of a bullet, ricocheting. She keeps moving even though she doesn’t know where she’s going. She believes that should she continue walking, nothing will be able to catch her. Not the spindly tree branches that take the shape of arms or serpentine shrubbery. She won’t give the mountain any time to fossilise her, if only she keeps moving.
Her movements are clumsy though. Her eyesight is hindered by panicked tears, turning everything shapeless and blurry. She keeps tripping and skinning her knees like the hide of a pomegranate, her flesh peeling back to show the red pulp of her innards.
It was a rashly undertaken lapse of judgement that brought her here. To a conscious mountain that lives and breathes and feels her fear. It was her heart, empty, carved out and replaced by brutal loneliness. Her friends back home are heedless and her parents are never satisfied with what she does. She figured that if none of them would listen, the woodlands would.
And listen, they did.
When she cries out, the wind howls. When she changes her direction, pivoting on her heel, the soil rumbles. She sees things—a shadow spotting her vision, not composed of matter—peeking from behind a tree trunk before quickly slipping away. She witlessly calls out, asking if anyone’s there, and is met with the forest's silent presentiment. She feels the stark pressure of piercing eyes sprawling down her dewy neck, sweeping over her body.
The longer she spends lost, the more she sinks into Appalachia.
It pulls her down like molasses. Like she’s an innocent fly trapped in glue. Soon, she knows there’s no hope. She knows her scent is written into the bark of trees—supple, sugary. A treat for whichever predator finds her first.
A brown bear, swinging its claws at her until her entrails are threadbare and striated. A snake, injecting venom in her blood. A bobcat if she’s lucky. It would be a quick death—sinking its loose jowls into either side of her neck until it snaps and she goes slack.
She’s apt to let go. She’s keen to yield to the alluring call of the woodland to let go, to fall to the forest floor and sit there until she rots. Until the roots worm into her breathing wounds and branches start growing out of her mouth. The urge to stop moving and become one with the mountain is suddenly cogent, leaves no margin of doubt. It comes with the promise of eternal respite and divine mercy. She’s about to find a cliff to jump off of, but before she can, something catches her attention.
A plume of smoke curling in the air.
Whorls of slate-grey soot thinning and disappearing into the sky. She looks for the source and follows it blindly, shouldering past pine needles and hawthorn and all but sobbing as a cabin comes into view. It’s made of wood and the tufts of wildflower that sprout from its thin fissures. It looks neglected and eaten by the elements. Its vaulted roof is stained by the off-white assault of bird droppings, discoloured by acid rain. Some of the windows look covered with dewy newspaper, but still, she knows it can’t be vacant. The smoke undulating from the chimney tells her that.
She staggers onto the porch. Her fist rasps against the door, clippings of wood burying itself into her skinned knuckles as she wildly knocks. Silence. Not even the leaves flutter against each other. Fleetingly, a stint of panic seizes her. What if nobody’s home? But she’s twisting the knob and pushing herself inside anyway, dropping her bag to the floor with a thump, stepping inside.
The cabin makes for a liminal space, smelling of sawdust and pine. There’s a layer of dust on every surface, making the air thick. All the furniture is carved from wood and a couple taxidermied deers are mantled above the stone fireplace, looking more like warnings than decoration. The pelt of a black bear is unfurled across the floor, and a few trinkets are strewn around—a bookshelf of spine-cracked novels, dead plants hanging from the ceiling beams. A mountain of used cigarettes, but strangely, no ashtray.
There’s everything but picture frames. Nothing she can use to humanise the cabin nor the people supposedly living in it.
She guides herself to the kitchen by feeling the walls. There’s a piped stove in the corner and cast iron tools hanging above the counter. Her stomach bubbles, and immediately, she starts scouring for food.
There’s three barrels by the door, and upon popping them open, the stench of brine sprays her in the face. It’s fish with a crust of salt, preserved. In the other barrel is meat buried in shelled corn, and fermented poultry in the last barrel.
It’s all raw and bloody. She steps back, gagging, turning her attention to the shelves that line the faraway wall. Jars of pickled cucumber and carrots. Garlic braids hanging from the edge. Rusty milk churns nestled in the corner.
There’s a galvanised tub full of ice on the floor. She digs through it and almost moans at the jars of jam. She untwists one, sticks her fingers in it, and wipes it clean with her tongue and teeth. It’s tart and tangy but it’s food, sticking to the walls of her stomach, satiating her. And once she starts she can’t stop. She goes back to the wall and finds a stained jar, fishing out a handful of fermented cabbage, stuffing it in her mouth, her face tightly puckering at the sharp sourness.
The juice of the food goes spilling past her lips, sluicing down her chest. It sticks to the chasm between her tits and mixes with sweat, making her shirt cling to her skin, revealing the barest outline of her nipples. She’s so engrossed in keeling over the counter and stuffing her face that she doesn’t even notice the pointed shift in atmosphere. The deer outside stopping their rutting, the trill of birds ceasing. The leaves stilling, as if holding their breaths to hide. Thick, silvery clouds nestling together and eclipsing the sun, casting a thin overcast over the woodland, darkening the already-dim surroundings.
She’s too preoccupied to recognise the tell-tale croak of the door swinging open. It’s tinny, but bullied by the sound of her smacking on marinated cabbage. She doesn’t notice the dull, throbbing footfalls. Pays no heed to the stench of blood invading her senses because she believes it’s coming from her dry, leathery lips that split open as she widens her mouth to fit the cabbage inside.
It’s only when the room darkens, a box-shaped shadow sweeping over her vision, does her blood run cold. She freezes with a handful of vegetable raised halfway to her lips, the brine rolling off a cabbage leaf like it’s an awning, dropping to the floor—drip, drip, drip—the rapid succession of shedding liquid hitting the floor sounds similar to the beating of her heart against her fickle, feeble ribs.
The saline spray in her mouth gets soaked up by her tongue, making it puffy, too big for her mouth. She turns around clemently—treating the shadow like a wild animal—no sudden movements. She goes rigid.
It can’t be human.
It’s huge. Bigger than anything she’s ever seen before. Sweeping shoulders, broad thighs. Its neck is bent uncannily because it’s too big to fit in the doorway. Its chest rises heavily like a bull.
She tries to find a face, and when she does, the blood is drained from her.
It just makes her feel… uncomfortable. Its face is the poor imitation of a human, as if someone tried drawing one from memory but scarcely failed. Failed to capture the humanity, the animation, leaving it looking like a half-convincing resemblance. Its tapetum lucidum glows yellow, burning in the thin mist of moonlight that penetrates the newspaper sticking to the windows.
It stares blankly at her. The hair on her arms stick up, a bead of sweat slices down her neck.
“I’m sorry…”
The creature raises an arm and pulls on a hanging bead-chain, tugging on the light, which is simply a naked bulb in the middle of the kitchen. The kindle is weak but does more than the delicate moonlight. Just barely illuminates its face. His face.
She tries not to let her fear show. Tries not to preen under his depthless eyes, the mean twine of his lips. His hair that seems to have been shaved too closely to his scalp, if the nicks and small cuts on the shells of his ears are anything to go by.
He grumbles an idle prusten. He rolls his elbows back—his shoulder blades unfurling like folded wings—and twists his thick neck.
“What’re you doin’ in my home?”
“I’m so sorry,” she repeats, her words stifled around a wad of cabbage. “I– I’ve been lost for three days. I came up for a hike but lost my way and I saw your cabin and I’m sorry, but I’m just so hungry and–”
A deep, guttural voice peals from the living room.
“Simon!” It says. “Where should I chuck the deer? It’s too big for the livin’ room.”
The aforementioned Simon, she presumes, doesn’t answer the unobserved voice. He keeps his eyes on her, face twisted into a puckered, mean mug.
A string of footsteps precede the face that appears behind Simon’s shoulder. A rounder, ruddier face. A salt-and-pepper stubble and eyes so blue they glow like bioluminescence.
Johnny acts surprised as if Simon hadn’t smelled her from miles away. Her honeyed scent roiling off of her, curling into the air and thinning between the trees. Her sweat pooling in the gusset of her panties, raw and pungent.
He’s purposely coy. It’s written into the furrow of his brows and the caper of his cupid lips but the girl is too disoriented to catch on. She looks at him and beseeches, but almost faints at the deer hanging limply over his shoulder. He holds it like it weighs nothing—a sack of sprouting potatoes.
He coos. “Who’s this?”
“Lost bird,” Simon grunts. “Found her diggin’ through our food.”
“Oh, poor lassie,” Johnny hums. More so to Simon than the girl, which makes her squirm. “She didnae mean any harm, Simon. She’s just hungry… tha’ right, lass? Are ye hurt?”
She stutters out a nod, gesturing to how her jeans cling to her knees, sun-bleached and darkened with blood. She rolls her shirt over her ribcage, showing them her wounded torso. How her skin sticks to her bones.
Johnny bristles.
“The lass needs a place to stay, Simon,” he whispers. “And she’s hurt. Bleeding.”
They talk of her as if she’s advertised merchandise in a magazine catalogue. She squirms.
Simon turns to look at her. The depression in her cheeks due to her hunger and the split skin of her mouth. The pert curve of her breasts. The desperate look in her eyes.
He grumbles, looks over his shoulder at Johnny. “I’ll start the fire. You take the deer out back and drain it ‘fore it hardens.”
“Aye,” Johnny says. He thumps away in clunky boots and a thin t-shirt and jeans. The deer sways with his gait and disappears behind the screen door when he steps outside.
She redirects her attention to Simon, who’s already looking at her. More specifically, at her pulsing neck. His jowls are slightly unfastened, his pupils blown out and eclipsing his irises.
Presentiment settles in her stomach. She blanches.
Suddenly, Simon is grunting and gripping her arm, heedless towards her whimper of fear and fleeting stint of resistance. His nails are sharp, digging sickle-shaped impressions into her arm. He drags her down the hallway and into another room—a bathroom—and tugs the flickering light on. It lacks sheen, barely illuminates the room from its moss-covered nooks to the tiled floor caked with crusted dirt.
(The lightbulb is so dull. It doesn’t reach the farthest corner of the bathroom where the radiator is placed. The radiator bathed in black, hidden beneath the lip of shadows, so she isn’t able to see the forgotten handcuff hanging limply from one of the pipes.)
Simon works his heavy body around the bathroom. He leans over the clawfoot tub—which he dwarfs—and twists open the spigot, watching as brown-coloured water slowly ripens into something clear, gushing out of the faucet. He stuffs a plastic plug into the rust-ringed drain.
He straightens back into his full height. All-encompassing, panoramic. Simon is so impossibly large that it’s a wonder he has so much muscle packed under his skin. Rustic, hard thighs. A shirt that bends against his arms, about to snap.
“Take a bath,” he commands. “Get y’rself cleaned up.”
Simon shoulders past her and ducks to exit the bathroom. There’s no door separating it from the rest of the house, but a multitude of beads hanging above the threshold to imitate one. She keeps her eyes trailed on it while she strips—peeling off her jeans, pulling her shirt over her head. Rolling down her panties and consciously hiding them beneath her other clothes.
She clutches the lip of the bathtub for leverage and dips her toes into the water. Immediately, she melts. The hot water swallows her foot and travels like a spool of thread to the rest of her, weaving itself into her wounds, licking her open like the first thaw of spring.
She submerges herself fully, bringing her knees to her chest. Her neck hoists backward and into the water, soaking all the grit and dirt knotted into her hair. It’s like plying through syrup as she lifts an arm, retrieving a homespun bar of soap, clutching it to test her grip. There’s coily hair knotted into it and sticking to the dried bubbles. She brings it up to her nose, sniffing. Hesitates before rubbing it into her skin and around her throbbing wounds.
The water idly sloshes as she cleans herself. It’s a hollow sound, amplified by the echoey room. She trails her hand below her waist, slipping her sudsy fingers between her lips and stroking, rubbing herself clean.
Beneath the tinny sounds of water surrounding her like a petticoat, something else peals out. Something like a whine. Her fingers cramp above her warm cunt and she goes taut. She turns her head to the threshold of the bathroom and nearly screams but her throat puckers before she can, blocking it, her mouth hanging open in a soundless screech instead.
It’s Johnny. He stands in the middle of the hallway, peering into the bathroom and staring at her, half-obscured by the bead curtains. He looks like a sit-and-wait predator like this—silent and unassuming, if not for his blindingly-white smile shining through the curtain like strobes of sunlight breaking past trees. He steps inside now that he’s been spotted, and that causes ice to lick her organs—she sinks her breasts below the water’s surface, squeezing her thighs together. She bristles as Johnny strides impossibly close, the lip of the tub cutting into his thighs.
He stinks of sweat and iron and wood. His t-shirt clings to his skin, darkened with deer blood, outlining the barest hint of his bulky chest.
He grins. “Brought ye some clean clothes.”
“Oh. I… thank you,” she mumbles. “You can leave it on the toilet if you don’t mind?”
Johnny sets it down. A folded flannel and a pair of sweatpants. He idles a little longer, still smiling, before leaving the bathroom. She counts the minutes in her head and tries to find the right time to leave the tub, outstretching her hand for the towel once it comes to her. But the towel is just scarcely out of reach. The terrycloth grazes her fingertips, teasing her. It’s like it was methodically placed there. Bait at the end of a fish hook to ply her out of the water and stick her ass in the air, reaching over to grip the cloth and tug it over her breasts, stepping out of the tub.
Her eyes stay locked on the crude door while she changes. She buttons the flannel up to her neck and takes heed of the pointed absence of any undergarments, slipping her legs into the gauzy sweatpants, tying them at her waist.
Johnny bursts in as if on cue. He’s still slick with blood, his mohawk odd-angled, spun-thread and matted to his head with sweat. His cheeks bulge around another grin.
“Too big for ye, is it?” He pants. “Might as well take it off. Might trip and hurt yerself again. Wouldn’t want that happenin’, right honey?”
Johnny shortens the space between them in one stride. His fingers, thick and jaded, are already fumbling around the knot she tied, pulling it out of its bow and letting the sweatpants fall, pooling into a crimp around her ankles.
The flannel is big enough to reach her thighs. Still, she clenches her fingers around the hem and tugs it lower, preening under Johnny’s smouldering gaze. It’s almost paradoxical how it works—his eyes are icy blue, yet they have the same effect as basaltic molten. Burning hot. He’s fixated on her skinned knees, gnawing on his bottom lip.
“Simon’s got the fire goin’,” he says. “Let’s go get yer wounds cleaned too, aye?”
Johnny’s walking out before she can blink. She follows after him, flustered, stumbling into the living room lit by a dulcet fire. Simon’s kneeled beside it, sticking his hand in to adjust a lopsided stock of wood, unaffected by the flames that eat away his arm hair. Johnny takes the girl by the scruff of her neck, guiding her to a hand-crafted chair placed conscientiously in front of the fireplace. He presses on her—the sensitive divot between her shoulder and her neck—and pushes her into the seat, unzipping a first-aid kit.
Johnny takes her feet and pulls them into his lap. The angle makes her flannel hitch up, exposing her bare cunt to the hot embers of the fireplace, and the equally hot embers of Simon’s prying eyes. She squeaks and covers herself, averting her gaze as Simon’s stare darkens into the colour of midnight splash hanging over the sky.
“You’ll feel a wee sting,” Johnny warns. He rips the corner off a rag and drenches it in vodka, poising it over her flayed knees. “Should probably give my hand a squeeze or somethin’, ye ken? To lessen the burn, o’ course.”
She hesitates but slips her hand around Johnny’s all-encompassing one, her fingers barely meeting whilst wrapped around his palm. She winces when the ethanol meets her wound, shooting through her veins, and tries recoiling into herself.
But the amplitude of her pain swells, and her muscles girdle.
It’s Simon’s massive hand splitting itself across her thigh that keeps her pinned to the chair. His fingers bite rivets into her skin, the pinch overriding the sting of her tissue soaking up the alcohol.
“Stay still when he tells you to,” he grumbles. “Otherwise it’ll hurt.”
She wriggles uncomfortably. Tries not to flinch when the rag meets her knees again and burns her wound. Simon’s hand doesn’t leave her thigh until he’s throwing another block of wood into the fireplace.
Johnny hums. “So, what’re you doin’ up here? Religious retreat? Mental health?”
She smacks her lips, unsure if she should answer that. She chances a glance towards Simon and bristles because for some reason, she just knows that if she lies, somehow, he’d tell.
“Um. Just stepping away from home, I suppose,” she mumbles. “Friends. Family.”
“Oh. They dinnae care about you?”
She flinches. Not because of the vodka against her skin, but Johnny’s implications.
“No,” she says. Her words are so fickle, so distorted by misery that not even she believes it. “They do care about me. I just needed space.”
He nods. Slowly, his eyebrows press together. “I don’t remember much of my family. It’s a wee bit odd. Can’t say if they liked me or not…”
Simon squeezes the back of his neck. “Enough of tha’. Pay attention.”
Johnny makes a sound like he’s humiliated. It’s only when he unrolls a spool of gauze, wrapping it around her kneecaps, is he afforded mercy when Simon changes the topic.
“Where’s the bird gonna sleep?”
“We’ve still got a cot in the root cellar, aye?” Johnny replies. “For hurricanes and tha’. Figured she wouldn’t mind it there. Wouldn’t ye, lass?”
Clemently, she shakes her head.
Simon grunts. He stands up, towering over them both. “The deer’s there, Johnny. What kind of hosts would tha’ make us? Puttin’ her up with a corpse?”
Johnny blushes as if he’s been scolded. His bottom lip curls out, petulant, a waspish colour flooding his cheeks.
“Aye…” he grumbles. “Tha’s right. The livin’ room, then?”
The girl is sitting, her head oscillating between the two men like a pendulum as they talk.
“No,” Simon says. “We’ll move the cot to our room.”
Johnny nods. He scratches his stubble, pretending to think. “It’s important we keep an eye on her wounds, too.”
“Exactly,” Simon says, petting Johnny’s head. “Smart boy.”
He clicks his tongue and Johnny shoots up, scurrying out of the living room to retrieve the aforementioned cot. Muffled sounds peal out from the root cellar below them. Johnny comes stumbling back up in mere minutes with a rickety cot fitted under his armpit and disappears into a dark room.
“Best get to sleep before it’s too late,” Simon splays his hand over the small of her back. “Y’must be tired.”
She submits to Simon’s touch, letting him guide her through the cabin and into the darkest room lit only by a lone oil lamp.
Johnny is finishing up the cot when Simon releases her. He drapes a cable-knit blanket over the surface, fluffing up a pillow. She doesn’t point out how close it is to their bed, the lip of her cot almost touching their rickety mattress.
“Fair warnin’ lass,” Johnny begins, peeling off his shirt, kittening into bed. “Simon snores quite a bit. Dinnae be feart to smack his gob if he gets too loud, aye?”
She stiffly nods. She climbs into the cot and bunches the blanket around her, making a conscious effort to hide her bare legs. Simon crawls between them, the mattress sinking with his weight, and throws their whisper-thin blanket over his legs.
Darkness penetrates the room when he blows the lamp out. The only smoulder is the silvery glow of moonlight invading the curtains and the reflective light in Simon’s eyes.
He sits up impossibly straight, staring at her like a cryptid caught on a trail cam. It causes discomfort to congeal under her flesh, but slowly, the longer she looks, a bristle of sleepiness lays hold of her. She closes her eyes and falls into limbo. Her breaths thinning into a short, even pattern.
———
She’s between the threshold of awake and sleep when she hears it.
She can’t tell if it’s a dream or the amplified sounds of Appalachia. She feels as if she’s underwater or stuck in syrup, able to hear the rushing brook of her blood against her ears but unable to distinguish the sounds around her.
There’s a grunt. And a moan. The wail of the bed next to her snapping then creasing. Heavy breathing. Sprinting hearts.
Her head is so muddled she can’t register anything. Her mind tells her that the violent slapping of skin against skin is the crack of thunder. That the strangled whimpers are the call of a cottontail.
“Right there, Johnny?” A voice asks. “Takin’ my big cock so fuckin’ well. Greedy lil’ bitch, you are.”
A long, drawn-out whine chases after it. A choked-out scream as if something hurts, succeeded by a wet squelch.
“Look at ‘er,” that voice jeers. “Think she’d take it? Better than you? Think she’d bleed all over it like– fuck… how I smelt it on her?”
The other voice—broken in, wispy—chokes on a response. It sounds a little stifled, as if speaking through something shoved in its mouth.
“No… nae better than me,” it mumbles. “Nae better than me…”
It’s like she’s drowning in purgatory. She can’t move, can’t speak. She’s caught in a phantasmagorical limbo between reality and fantasy. She can feel the serpentine hands of something with no material existence wrap around her and stain her slick with sweat, sweeping over the space between her legs, licking a wetness up her pussy.
A dewy sound peals out. It’s a predator loosening its jowls, stringy and frothy, flaying its lips to bare its teeth. A rumbling roar rips out of its throat, animalistic. She can hear the popping of teeth sinking into flesh. The dull sound of skin breaking.
“Ah!” A squeal. “Simon, tha’– it hurts.”
She feels a vortex in her belly, an ache in her clit.
It’s like she resurfaces the water. All at once, she hears clearly. It’s a lone word whispered in a guttural cadence so close that she swears it’s mumbled against the hot hull of her ear.
“Good.”
———
She wakes the next morning with her tongue sticking to the roof of her mouth and a damp heat between her legs.
Sunlight filters through the gauzy curtains, hitting the bed next to her. The bed is starkly empty she notes, as she crawls out of her cot and pops the stiff muscles in her back, stretching.
She pokes her head out of the bedroom and tiptoes around the cabin as if avoiding a barrage of landmines. There’s a downward force in her bladder that tells her she’s been in torpor for the better half of the morning, and a heavy crust in her eyes that shifts when she blinks. She finds her way to the bathroom and shucks the flannel over her hips, lowering herself on the toilet seat, emptying herself.
It’s the only stint of respite. The closest thing she can get to calm since losing her way in the mountain three days ago. She relishes in the idle birdsongs outside and the sound of overnight frost melting into the dew that slips off tree leaves, pitter-pattering to the ground. Listens to the stream of her pee peter out, and the ruffle of folding fabric as she tosses the flannel back over her thighs. She listens to the–
“How’d ye sleep, pretty girl?”
She flinches at the gruff voice. It’s written with sleep, barely lucid under a Scottish lilt. Her hands freeze under the running water of the tap as she watches Johnny waltz inside the bathroom, shucking his pants to his thighs and pulling out his cock, pissing in the toilet.
She’s stiff. Fixed to the cold clay tiles of the floor, unable to be bent. She tries not to let her eyes wander, tries to block out the chubby mass of muscle swinging between his legs.
“Oh…” her words are stifled by shock. “F-fine. I slept fine. Thank you again for opening your house to me.” She thinks back to last night—the whimpering, the croaking—and rashly decides to tack on, “But I did hear some weird noises. I could have been dreaming though.”
Johnny chuckles. “...Aye, it’s almost matin’ season ‘round these parts. I think you’ll be hearin’ more of that. It’s best to ignore it.”
Her body girdles when he sways his cock, shaking away the liquid on the tip. He stuffs himself back into his pants and pulls the flush, grinning.
“Bet you’re still hungry. Simon’s wrappin’ up breakfast. Let’s go.”
He pats her bum and makes her squeak. He grips the hem of her flannel and reels it around his knuckles like a leash, tugging her into the dining area—which is more of a nook nestled into the living room—and pulls out a seat.
“Hope ye fancy porridge,” Johnny chuckles. He splits his palm across the top of her head, pushing her into the chair.
She huffs and hoists her neck up, grimacing at the acrid scent of animal hide burning against the base of a cast iron pan. It takes a conscious effort to not crinkle her nose in disgust.
Simon ducks as he emerges from the kitchen threshold. He wields two bowls of food. One for her and the other for Johnny. She takes heed of how—despite his stature—Simon doesn’t have anything to eat.
However it’s a cursory thought, because she’s quickly pulling her lips into a weak smile and examining the bowl in front of her. Food is a generous word, since it looks more like coagulated milk than porridge and smells sour. Simon places a chipped plate of bacon alongside it. It’s curled because it’s overcooked, crusted with charcoal.
She swallows as Simon takes a seat next to her. Johnny, on the other side of her.
“Looks delicious,” she hums. She turns to Simon, “Are you… not eating?”
He picks an off-white tendon from his canine tooth, flicking it away.
He answers in a rigid tenor. “Don’t hurt your head over me. You eat your food.”
She marginally shrinks into herself, embarrassment licking up her spine. She feels like a chided puppy, but perhaps that’s the sentiment.
When she opens her lips and raises the spoon to her mouth, her flannel curls like a wisp of hair off her shoulder, baring her bruised albeit supple skin. She hastily pulls the sleeve back up.
She speaks around the stale porridge and her rising apprehension. “Uh, do you have my clothes from yesterday?” She asks, squirming as her sweat glues the back of her thighs to the chair, sticky. “It’s just, uh, they fit me better.”
“Oh,” Johnny blinks, “o’ course.”
She watches him stand up and slip through the backdoor. He walks towards a clothesline hitched between two trees and retrieves her clothes, returning with them tucked under his arm.
“Here ye go sweetheart,” he grins, setting them on her lap. Petting her head.
She slowly peels through her clothes. Her fingertips drag against her threadbare jeans, her overripe shirt, but never touch the sweat-imbued gauze of something more… intimate. Her maw tenses around the hot porridge.
“Where are my… um…” she lowers her voice even though it’s redundant—Johnny is leaned in close, practically huffing against her ear, sniffing her neck. “... Undergarments?”
Johnny tilts his head, puckering his lips in confusion. He’s written with the innocence of a puppy—whether it’s real or fabricated, she can’t tell. The words have begun bleeding together, blotchy and unintelligible.
“Panties, ye mean?” He laughs. “Ye never had any of those.”
She swallows thickly.
“No, I… I did. I wouldn’t go hiking without–”
“Ye must be goin’ crazy, lass,” Johnny says. “This was all you gave me. Nae panties.”
He stares at her with large, intercosmic, unassuming eyes. His gaze flickers towards Simon. It’s so fleeting that she almost misses it. The sweep of his blue irises widening, eclipsed by his pupils. She tenses. Omniscience hits her like a brick.
Her tongue goes heavy in her mouth, melting her words. The porridge turns frothy in her gut, nausea sticking to her organs and presentiment curdling in the air. She tightens her throat around a gag.
“... When can you drive me into town?”
Johnny reaches over and grips her thigh. He digs divots into her flesh like a fish hook caught in a flayed gill.
“You’re welcome to stay as long as ye want, pretty. There’s nae rush.”
She feels bile crawl up her throat.
“Oh, well, I just don’t want to overstay my welc–”
“He’s excited to play host,” Simon growls. His words are marked by firm determination, leaving no room for objection. He leans over the table, his wifebeater clinging to his muscle, his wiry chest hair pressing against the soft cotton. “We rarely get visitors ‘round here and he’ll be upset if you leave. Y’wanna make him upset?”
Finally, warnings blare like strobe lights in her mind. She fidgets in her seat, sweating, shooting a cursory glance to the backdoor. Calculating her chances of survival should she break through the mesh and make a run for it.
“O-of course not. Not after everything you’ve done for me,” she stutters, feeling a bead of sweat travel down her neck. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry for asking.”
Simon settles back in his seat. Johnny, too, frowning around his porridge.
“Good,” Simon grunts meanly. “Now shut your gob an’ eat.”
She clemently chews away at her breakfast, preening under their smouldering gazes. Throughout her polishing off her bowl, she’s reminded Simon doesn’t have one. It’s unseemly for a man so sturdy to not be eating, but as Simon’s lips peel back, sated while he watches her take her final bite, she spots a spray of red liquid washing the spire of his fang tooth, glistening in the sunlight.
“How’d you like tha’, pretty?” Johnny asks. He collapses whatever thoughts—whatever inklings—begin to seize her about Simon as he smiles and their bowls, disappearing into the kitchen.
Right away, Simon is hooking his foot behind a leg of her chair, using it to pull her closer.
He’s centimetres away from her face when he says, “How ‘bout you start pullin’ your weight?”
Her eyes flicker up to see Simon hovering over her. He’s dewy with sweat, big and burly and drifting above her like the closet-dwelling monster from everyone’s childhood.
“You’ve caused enough trouble in my home,” he continues. “Ate a lot of our produce. It’s time you make up for tha’.”
She resists the urge to snarl. She doesn’t even want to be here yet Simon is insisting she fill her role—whatever that role may be.
But as she hoists her neck up at him, she gets skittish and looks away, her tongue knotting. She knows it isn’t smart to upset Simon again. He’s a beefy man with sharp canines and vertical pupils, with more hair sprouting from his forearms than what’s considered normal. A man who expels deep tonal flutters instead of regular breaths. Who—despite his size—can’t ever be heard approaching.
So she smiles instead, asking, “What is it you need help with?”
“Floors need scrubbin’.”
He shoves a rag in her hand and holds out a bucket of sudsy water she hadn’t noticed before.
“Kitchen, livin’ room… just get to work.”
The water sloshes over the lip of the bucket when he sets it down. Simon stands to his full height and stalks out of the room, leaving her alone with her multitude of thoughts.
Slowly, she stands up. She hauls the water bucket to the middle of the living room and is starkly reminded of her strength—or lack thereof. Simon had picked the bucket up so naturally, but with the weak tendons lacing her arms, she struggles. It doesn’t help that her vision is still spotty.
She lowers to her knees, wincing at the chord of pain beneath her bandages. She awkwardly drenches the rag in the water and wrings it dry, poising herself above the floor, working the rag into the floorboards.
She tenses when Johnny walks back in. He’s behind her. Unlike with Simon, she can feel him creeping up. She can feel his eyes on the lips of her pussy where her flannel hitches up while she’s bent over, scrubbing the floors.
Her cheeks burn. She blindly reaches behind her to tug the hem down, covering her warm cunt.
Johnny chuckles. “This is wha’ Simon has you doin’ out here?”
She looks over her shoulder, her skin prickling when she sees an axe in his hand.
“We’re goin’ to the yard to chop some wood,” he says, “but I see you’re already busy bein’ our bonnie housewife.”
She stutters. That operative word, housewife, burns a hole in the snail-shaped cochlea of her ear. “No, Simon j-just asked me to. He asked me to.”
“I know, sweetie,” Johnny replies. He squats next to her and rubs her back in slow circles, trying to hike up her flannel again. “Simon’s just takin’ the piss. He’s a meanie like tha’.”
She tries shouldering him away but Johnny only holds her tighter. Simon reappears in the doorway, watching with his arms crossed.
Johnny clears his throat. “Thought we’d spend time in the yard today. Doesn’t tha’ sound sweet?”
She looks at Simon who’s already looking at her through hooded, brutish eyes. She realizes that her autonomy is divested—that she has no choice but to follow what they say because something is very, very wrong here.
Perhaps this is what the mountain had warned her of. In all of its howling and breathing, the branches gripping her and the delirium written into her psyche, maybe, it was all a warning.
She hangs her head. “Mhm… sounds great.”
She has no time to process what’s happening before he’s folding his hand into the cavity of her armpit and dragging her up and out of the door, into the backyard.
It’s more of a cleared grove than a yard. Dead tree stumps litter the small expanse, grass the colour of ripe lemons because it’s been seared down. There’s a block of wood sitting on a stump, split down the middle. Sun-bleached clothes hanging over the clothesline.
“Y’can watch here,” Johnny says, gesturing to one of the tree stumps. “We’ve got to chop wood for dinner tonight.”
He pulls her down on the makeshift seat, finally letting her go. And just as Johnny pivots, slamming the spire of the axe into the block of wood, she sees him scrunch his nose as he sniffs his hand, drinking in the sweat from her armpit. It goes up his nose and through his nasal cavity, making him quiver as if her sweat is an opiate. Disgust slams into her, sinking in her stomach and settling there like sediment. She doesn’t even notice Simon walking out of the cabin and reaching for the axe, raising it over his head, until the resounding sound of wood snapping peals out, and she’s jumping in her skin.
“No need to be feart,” Johnny laughs. “Just his usual routine.”
She watches Simon work. He looks like a beast on its hind legs like this—impossibly large and splayed out with his arms over his head, growling whenever he brings the axe down on the tree stump, splitting it in two. Sweat burns through his wifebeater and turns the fabric translucent, revealing the barest outline of his chest. His chest hairs are matted with sweat, his sinews straining with each chop of wood. His face is curled meanly into itself, his trimmed hair nicked in different places from at-home shaving and washed with sweat.
Every time he brings the axe down on the wood, expelling a guttural groan, something stirs in her. He does it with such force, such strength, it makes her wary. He fractures the wood along the grain without so much of a blink, without any stifling in his muscle.
All those horror films she watches alone—when her friends say they’re too busy to join, when they lead her on after planning a get-together that doesn’t come to fruition—finally catch up to her, sowing the thought in her head that if she stays, she’ll become the tree stump. Impotent beneath Simon’s hacking and eclipsed by his behemoth-like body.
Her missing panties. Johnny’s sticky hands. Simon’s less-than-human behaviour. It all slams into her like whiplash.
Her fear rears its head as a rashly undertaken announcement tumbling out of her mouth.
“I have to pee.”
She ignores the way Johnny perks up, as if that activated something in his brain. His ocular vein goes large, rapt, his pupils blowing out as he looks at her and then her navel where her bladder sits, suddenly grinning.
“I can come with–”
“I’ll go in the woods,” she says. “Behind a bush or something, okay?”
Simon grunts. It’s a deep prusten sound as he splits another block of wood. Johnny pouts but lets her go, watching with those imploring eyes as she disappears behind some foliage.
It’s now or never, she decides.
She makes sure she’s concealed by the flowering of a tree before speeding up her walk. She moves like an unoiled machine, rusty, as her walk ripens into a run.
She doesn’t know where she’s running. She doesn’t know how far the nearest town is or how to find the trail she lost herself on, but she knows she needs to get far away from here.
The woodland is labyrinthine. Everything looks the same. She hopes she isn’t sprinting deeper into the heart of Appalachia and straight into her new grave, but still, she doesn’t stop running. Not until her lungs wilt into themselves and turn pruney, not until her heartbeat plateaus.
It’s as if she’s working against a rip current. She feels as if a part of herself is already woven into the woodland soil, feels herself written into the rotting, wet trees. It’s like she’s treading water instead of sprinting. And it’s like a supernova has erupted in her ankle as it gets caught under a root, sending her face first into the dirt.
She reorients as quickly as she can. She raises to her feet but winces at the flaring nerves in her foot, and looks around for a stick she can use as a crutch.
But something else catches her attention.
A dog-eared paper taped to a Basswood tree. It’s been eaten by the elements, mottled, barely hanging on. She steps closer and reads the blocky letters across the front, her blood running cold in her engorged vessels.
MISSING PERSON
Fleetingly, hope seizes her, but she soon remembers nobody back home is heedful enough to report her missing, let alone realize she’s missing in the first place. Additionally, the year suggests that the flyer is three years old. Her eyes slink down, trailing over what’s still intact.
LAST SEEN: CLIFF TRAIL
$3,000 REWARD FOR INFORMATION
Foreboding clings to her flesh. She quivers, her knees weakening.
FIRST NAME: J-
The tail-end of it is smeared, the ink bleeding and thinning into the paper. It’s unintelligible, so she trails her gaze lower, heeding the victim’s last name instead.
MACTAVISH.
“Sweetie!” Peals out from behind her before she can read any more. “What’re you doin’ all the way here? Had me and Simon thinkin’ ye ran away or something. Hah.”
Johnny hurries close and swallows her flinch with a tight hug. He frowns at the flyer.
“Why’re you readin’ this silly stuff?” He asks. He tears it off the tree and crumples it up, tossing it away. “That shite gives y’nightmares.”
“Johnny, I–”
“You went pee?” Johnny asks. Nearly makes her screech when he dips his hand low and cups her cunt, feeling around for any dregs of liquid. He buries his fingers unnecessarily deep between her puffy lips, blindly massaging.
“No…” he clicks his tongue. “No. You didn’t. Did ye lie to us? It dinnae matter, sweetie. Here. Do it here, pretty. I’ll wait.”
She musters whatever pluck she has left to shake her head.
However her spine is fickle. All it takes is Johnny glowering, his eyes darkening, his pout upending and curling into something meaner, to force her back into submission.
“Simon’s already angry ye pulled this stunt, sweetie,” he says. “I’m helpin’ you out.”
A tear escapes her. It rolls down her gaunt cheek like the dew that dribbles down trees. She’s quickly crying, expelling howls that burn her energy. She trembles as she squats to the forest floor and pushes pee out of her. She sniffles as she stands back up and lets the liquid sluice down her thighs.
“Good girl,” Johnny hums. “You’re so much sweeter when ye listen, ye ken?”
She sobs into her palms, her ribs so brittle they rattle together. Johnny coos vacantly at her, rubbing her all over the same way one rubs stone fruit to test their ripeness, and croons at her swelling ankle.
“See what happens when you’re naughty?” He asks, picking her up, carrying her close to his chest. “Let’s get you home, honey. These woods are no place for a bird like you.”
She hates how she curls into him. It’s her repressed underbelly fighting its way to the surface because the accumulation of neglectful family and friends has soured her, carving a chasm in her heart that forces her body to respond to Johnny’s affections. He’s a warm body for her, a pair of listening ears. It’s scraps, but it’s more than she’s ever gotten.
They make it back to the cabin in what feels like minutes. Simon’s waiting next to the door with his arms tightly crossed, his face meanly pinched. He growls like a provoked animal. He hovers like an executioner. He’s the living antonym of light at the end of the tunnel, huffing like a bull as Johnny carries her inside.
“How about you rest?” Johnny asks. He sets her down on her cot and pulls the blanket to her quivering chin, tucking her in. “Want some tea? What kind do you fancy?”
She purses her lips, trembling. Johnny sentimentally hums as if he’s sorry. As if he isn’t a part of her plight. Her piercing fear and deep-seated fatigue.
“Garden mint…” he says to himself. “I’ll be right back, bonnie.”
He disappears and returns a few minutes later with a cup dwarfed in his hand. Steam curls over the rim, thinning into the barren bedroom. He tilts it into her mouth, nursing her.
With every sip she feels herself slip more and more back into the familiar territory of limbo. Her eyelids become heavy, her cognizance slackening.
She peels her tongue off her gums to muster a whisper. It’s so weak. Barely audible.
“I wanna go… home…”
Johnny croons. He cups her cheek. “Honey, those people dinnae care about you. Not how me and Simon do. This can be your home.”
He raises the cup to her mouth again, stifling any protests on her tongue.
She hiccups around the drink, her eyes warm and wet.
That’s how she falls asleep.
With hypnotic tea invading her bloodstream, turning her eyelids heavy. Turning her helpless.
———
She wakes with a start.
It’s a crack of thunder that had stirred her, she realizes, instead of the enigmatic sounds of bed springs snapping.
The bedroom is dark and bathed in midnight light. She can barely see anything, save for the barest outline of Johnny in the bed next to her. When lightning strikes, illuminating the sky with a blinding impact crack, she’s able to see the swell of his body beneath his sheets and the shadow of his spun-thread hair. His chest rising and falling steadily.
She’s caked with sweat. Her perspiration soaks her flannel and makes it cling to her flesh, which is flared up as if she rolled in a pile of poison ivy. Her mind is so cluttered she almost folds over as she stands up, testing the grip of her toes on the wooden floor, testing her ability to balance herself.
She’s in limbo. A border space between heaven and hell, awaiting her execution. That’s how it feels as she tiptoes her way out of the room, reaching for an oil lamp, holding it out in front of her.
It’s almost worse like this. A weak flame that barely illuminates her peripheral. She fears that should she turn too fast, an aberration will materialize from the margins of her view and tear her to ribbons.
At this point, she supposes that’s a kinder fate.
She slips into a pair of large boots because she can’t find her hiking shoes anywhere. She opens the door and pokes her head out, immediately met with the spray of rainwater on her face, the wind running through her ropes of neglected hair.
Sheets of heavy rain fall from the awning, creating another divide that keeps her trapped inside the cabin. She steps onto the porch, listening for any incongruous noises. Even if there were any, they would be bullied under the assault of rainfall. She can’t hear her own thoughts like this, can’t formulate a plan to get away from here once and for all.
So of course she doesn’t hear the floorboards settle behind her. Of course, she doesn’t hear the heavy drumming of feet closing in on her.
She doesn’t heed the body behind her until Johnny is sniffing up her neck and snuffing out the oil lamp, laying hold of her in a grudging grip.
“You just dinnae listen, do you?”
He takes her by the scruff of her neck and pulls her back into the cabin, knocking the lamp out of her grip. It falls to the floor and flares into a crash, louder than the rain. Almost louder than her sprinting heart and the blood rushing to her ears.
She wrestles against his grip. “Fuck you both—you sick fucks!”
She almost vomits when her insults make Johnny moan, his cock fattening against her back in a crude Pavlovian response. Each time she struggles against him, his grip tightens. It reminds her of the mountain itself. The more she tries escaping its soporific arms, the deeper it drags her down. It’s fruitless for her to fight it—the whistle of the branches, the tight sinews of Johnny’s grip.
He swings his arm around her neck, pinning her against his chest in a headlock. Her lungs stutter and her eyes turn dewy, her deep-seated fear ripening into paralyzing terror.
A web of lightning shatters the sky, and she almost dies right there.
It’s Simon but worse. A mutation gone wrong. A changeling, perhaps. He’s squeezed inside the threshold, breathing wildly. His wifebeater is torn in different places across his body, split around tufts of fur. Fur that is matted with thick ichor, wiry and sprouting from the spot behind his ears.
Another flash of lightning ignites the cabin, revealing the shaggy coat of hair on his chest. The sheet of fat over his stomach that flutters when he puffs, growling under his breath. He clenches his jaw because he can’t clench his hands, because his thick fingers have turned into claws, sharp spires covered in gore.
Simon snarls. Blood and spit drip from his bloodied teeth as if he’s a rabid animal with a limp maw. He rolls his shoulders and cracks the cartilage in his neck, the sound pealing out so loudly, it’s more like the popping of bubble wrap in rapid succession.
She can barely see him through her tear-filled eyes. It’s the epilogue to her life as he strides in close, biting his talons into her hips and drawing out blood. A snarl of satisfaction escapes him when he smells it—her blood, sweet, albeit stale due to her dehydration.
“Anyone ever told you you’re an ungrateful mutt?” He growls. “I give you food to eat an’ clothes on your back but here you are, tryin’ to sod off.”
Her cheeks dimple when he grabs her jaw. She opens her mouth to protest, but her grievances get smothered beneath Simon’s claws. He stuffs his fingers down her mouth, stunting her complaints. She gags and coughs around the taste of metal and mire crusted under his claws, bile shooting up her throat.
“Dogs don’t talk,” he tuts.
He hoists his arm back and she puckers, preparing for an attack. However, instead of her cheek, Simon’s hand slices against her shirt. He tears her flannel into ribbons, making the fabric slide off her like water from a milk bath.
She stands naked, her skin pocked with fear. She shivers despite being pressed between Simon’s furry chest and Johnny’s warm arms.
“‘Bout time someone taught you some manners,” Simon mumbles. “I was in the middle of my dinner you know? Fuckin’ rude to interrupt.”
She blanches when she sees a limp coyote behind him, splayed out on the porch. She recognizes it as the orpiment-coloured fur to the hair flossed between Simon’s teeth.
She screams as he wrestles her from Johnny’s grip, pulling her towards the bedroom. Simon throws her onto the stiff mattress, her spine shuddering from the impact. She tries covering herself, tries wrapping her arms around her body, but Simon is having none of that.
He pounces, taking her hips and pinning them to the bed. He hovers over her, rainwater dripping from his broken nose, impossibly large as he makes up her whole world. Simon swallows her entire view, leaving her with no chances of escape.
Her gaze flutters down to the chub outlined by his sweatpants and decides she’s left with no chances of survival, either.
She flails her legs as Simon slithers low, flattening his nose against her cunt. She lets out a protracted cry as he hitches his lungs and inhales, breathing in the musk of her bare cunt. The sweat stuck between her fuzzy hair, the sticky arousal that spreads as he forces her legs open.
Simon hisses. It rides the ruck of his throat, expelled from his nose. It’s not in any capacity a human sound. It seems more like a bear flaring its nostrils, poised for attack.
Johnny notices the confusion between her eyebrows because he’s leaning in and murmuring against the shell of her ear, licking it.
“Remember wha’ I said about matin’ season, kitty?”
Johnny leans away, leaving it at that. Equivocal and cryptic and calcified into the furrows of her brain. She isn’t allowed to wade in her confusion though because Simon’s tongue is lolling out, sweeping a fat stripe over her pussy.
It’s like the first thaw of spring. Simon licks her open, spreads her out on his tongue. She can’t help the immediate warmth that courses through her, swathing her in silk.
She cries out. Her back bends off the mattress when Simon pulls her lips into his mouth to suck.
She looks to Johnny for help. She twists herself and tries reaching out, tries crawling off the mattress, but Simon is gripping her ankle and popping the gauze of her bandage with his claws, pulling her back down, wrapping his lips around her engorged clit.
Johnny’s face doesn’t show contrition, but is pinched in jealousy. He watches with a fat mass growing in his sweatpants.
She splits her hand over Simon’s shaved head, using the cauliflowered shell of his ear to try pulling him off of her. That only makes him growl, the vibrations quavering up her spine, his claws digging into her flesh.
She folds her arms over her face, sobbing. Simon’s tongue is wet and hot against her pussy, lapping between her soft folds, slurping her juices. She flushes at how wet she is. At how pleasure leaks through the cracks in her resolve and spreads all over her, reducing her to a panting mess.
Simon releases her clit with a pop. He raises to his knees, towering over her, and now she’s unsure if his glistening chin is because of the rainwater outside or her arousal.
“Hold her down, Johnny.”
Her heart drums against her chest. Johnny crawls onto the bed and kneels behind her head. He pins her wrists down with his kneecaps, keeping her from squirming.
“Will ye let me put my cock in ‘er mouth?” Johnny asks. “Simon, will you–”
“Shut it,” Simon snaps. He shoves down his sweatpants, his cock springing out. All of her nerves bristle like rope, her heart sputtering to a stop.
Simon’s cock is fat and heavy. It droops between his thighs, drooling with precum. It’s stiff but hangs because he’s so large, the engorged tip angling downward, his balls plump, ruddy.
He chokes his hand around it, tugging it. Her throat closes in on itself but her legs instinctively peel apart. Her puffy lips spread open and she flushes at the sticky sound, hoisting her neck back to look at Johnny.
He has his cock out too, pumping it. He grins when they lock eyes and smacks his dick against her cheek. Johnny presses his cockhead into the corner of her mouth, using it to tilt her lips into a repugnant curl. It’s reminiscent of a smile, but it isn’t one.
She wails.
They both make up her beginning and end. They trap her between themselves, leaving her with no escape. Simon at her feet, Johnny at her head. Each of the men are more intimidating than the other, both inspiring fear in her feeble heart. Both inspiring unwanted arousal between her legs.
Simon slaps his flaring tip against her clit. She mewls and hates herself for bucking her hips into him. She’s dew-skinned as Simon pushes her knees to her ears, thumbing her clit.
He deeply inhales.
His chest expands, tugging at the steel-wool hair felted against his big chest. He quivers as he expels his breath, his mating call, and finally feeds her his cock, pushing past her first ring of muscle.
Her body tries curling in on itself like a Venus flytrap, but Johnny is quicker. He bites his fingers into her wrists and pins her to the mattress, keeping her still while Simon stuffs himself deeper. Johnny kisses her tears away while he does it. It’s oxymoronic and it’s betrayal—a Judas kiss—while he wraps his lips around sweet encouragement against her cheeks.
“Got so much fight in ye, sweetie,” he whispers. “Just stop strugglin’ and it’ll feel good.”
Simon leans over her, his cock slipping deeper into her warm cunt. The blood and saliva from his maw drips onto her chest, the blood is so fresh there’s still steam, hitting her like scythes.
Johnny’s getting restless. He watches raptly as Simon starts slamming his hips into her. Johnny ruts against the chafe of her brittle hair and hopes it will give him satisfaction by proxy, but it does little to offset the ache in his balls. His lip warbles.
“Simon, please,” a voice crack, “can I put my cock in ‘er mouth?”
“Fine,” Simon growls. His hips are piston-paced against the girl’s skin, unrelenting and uncaring to how her nails scratch striated lines down his chest in her struggle. “Just stop interruptin’ us.”
Her jaw cramps when Johnny cups her chin. He puppets it open and forces his fingers down. They’re caked with dirt as he swirls them over her tongue, coaxing up the warm spit from the furrow of her throat to be used as a natural lube.
The only mercy she gets is the stint of time between Johnny pulling his fingers out and gripping his dick, laying it on her tongue. He forces her lips apart with the tip of his cock, smearing himself all over her.
“So pretty like this sweetheart,” he hums. “Simon smelt it on ye. Hundreds of klicks away. How sweet y’are.”
She doesn’t have the energy to decipher that. Most of it is being wrung on trying to fight the two men off, but it’s fruitless. Johnny is already slipping into her mouth, and her cunt is already stretched around Simon’s plump cock.
Johnny starts pumping in and out, his cock embroidering a burn in the hinges of her jaw.
She lies there limply, but as Johnny’s wiry hair meets her nose, she realizes there’s one thing she can do. In her thrashing, she undertakes the lapse of judgement to clamp her teeth together, sinking them into Johnny.
He yells and pulls himself out. Johnny wraps a hand around himself, squeezing, placating the sting. A warm wash of tears twine his eyelashes together, long and babydoll-like. He looks to Simon, preening, imploring.
“She bit me.”
Simon slows his hips, only scarcely so. Only enough for her to fill her lungs halfway before he’s dragging himself out agonizingly slow, burying himself back inside.
His eyes, hungry, flutter down to her. His lips wind back, revealing his sharp fangs. He snickers.
“Now you’ve pissed him off, hm? Dumb girl. This is why puppies need owners.”
He pinches her clit, softly tweaking it between the pads of his fingers. He looks at Johnny and condescendingly smirks.
“C’mere, boy. If she won’t suck you off, why not take a go at her other hole?”
She tenses. Fear washes over her like a rip current, all the way down to her ass that squeezes in protest. Her heart feels too big for her chest suddenly. She can’t even see Johnny’s blinding grin through her cloudy eyes as brine tracks down her cheeks, mixing with her sweat.
She whimpers. “No–“
A palm whistles through the air, exploding into a crack of thunder as it breaks against the skin of her cheek.
She lapses into silence. Little hiccups escape her while she peers up at Simon, sniffling.
“Yes,” he says.
He grips her by her hips and flips her over. This way, Simon’s on his back and she’s on top of him, his cock digging deeper. The position is etched with a degree of intimacy that causes heat to pool in her belly—she can feel his hot breath fanning over her face, she can see his feline-like eyes better.
She almost jumps out of her skin when Johnny presses his fingers into her ass, trying to break her in. He thumbs at the puckered muscle, chuckling when it tries squirming away from him.
“Cute little thing,” he says. “She ever been fucked?”
The way she sobs when Johnny forces his forefinger inside gives him his answer. He almost comes right there. At the sound of her slick lubing her up, at the sound of her being torn open like a stone fruit and her pitiful cries for mercy.
“Stop…”
“Stop?” Johnny repeats, “Sweetie, if I stop it’ll hurt when I fuck you. Ye need prep, silly.”
That only wracks her ribs harder. The patrionizing lilt in his voice, the way he pats her bum like she’s nothing but a dumb puppy. Johnny sinks another finger in, knuckle-deep, and curls himself into the walls of her ass, massaging it.
Simon starts thrusting again. He takes one of her tits in his mouth and tongues at her nipple, snapping his hips into her. It only adds more pressure to her other hole, the one being fingered open by Johnny.
“Y’think she’s ready, sweetie?” Johnny asks. He slaps his cock against her hole, teasing her. “I think she’s fuckin’ hungry. Look at ‘er winkin’ back at me.”
Johnny collects the saliva moulded into his gums and sputters out a wad of spit, wetting her tight asshole. He presses his cockhead against her opening, pushing himself inside.
She buckles, doubling over. Her cheek falls on Simon’s chest, chafing against his coarse hair. She’s never felt so full. Folded between the men and being fed two big cocks, left with no space to breathe. She isn’t given respite. No mercy. No time for her to stretch around their cocks.
Johnny splits his hand across the divot where her spine begins and shoves her into Simon. Her jaw hangs loose, her lips parted dumbly, her drool trickling onto Simon’s chest. She’s limp. Letting them have her way with her. Letting them brand her with their fingers digging sickle-shaped scratches into her skin. Letting them break her open with each of their jackhammering thrusts, letting their pants of encouragement and degradation swirl around her like whistles from the woodland, causing goosebumps to arise and her head to pound.
“Do ye feel it, Simon?” Johnny pants. “Is it comin’ on?”
His words sprawl by like a lazy river in her mind. Desultory, like lukewarm water. They don’t click into the empty chasm of her cognizance until something else happens. Something inhuman. Something that has her choking on the raw bile that scratches her throat and the spit coaxed into the rivets of her tongue by Johnny’s assaulting fingers.
Simon’s ramming gets shaved into stunted thrusts. It isn’t due to a loss of energy, but is due to something else keeping him from slipping out. A balloon pushing against the walls of her pussy, swelling inside her. It isn’t fat but is chubby enough for her to feel it, flutter around it.
The knot snarled into Simon’s cock plugs her up. She can’t pull herself off him because it’s puffed up past her cunt, keeping her stuck on top of him. It doesn’t help that Johnny keeps slamming his hips into her, riling the thin skin that separates her cunt from her ass, bending it to the shape of Simon’s cock.
Johnny gasps. “I’m close– shite, I’m close.”
She doesn’t want to admit it, but she is too. She feels her nerves begin to fray at their edges, her stomach wearing thin. Johnny slips his hand low and blindly sweeps at her clit, nibbling on the husk of her ear.
He only gets three more pumps in until he’s emptying his balls in her ass. He grabs her hair when he comes, puppetting her head back so her mouth falls open and he can spit inside. His thrusts are slow and deep and peter into something calm, his cock softening inside her. Johnny grins.
“Say thank you, kitty.”
It crosses her tongue as an unintelligible mumble. She can’t speak properly with Simon’s cock still in her.
Johnny chuckles at that. He wraps his arms around her and pinches her nipples. Twisting them, pulling them.
Simon’s so big beneath her, lounging like a bear. He fucks into her, his thrusts curtailing into sloppy snaps of his hips.
“He’s close, bonnie,” Johnny says. “Kiss ‘im when he comes. It’s what he likes.”
Finally, Simon’s knot unravels, his thick ropes of come sticking to her walls. He makes sure that the warm come dressing her is so deep, it’ll have no choice but to take.
Her body betrays her when it crests and crashes into her orgasm. She’s flashbanged with blinding light, gushing out an off-white liquid that coats Simon’s thighs. It seizes her so deeply it hurts, the panoramic pleasure. An orgasm that makes her brain melt, makes her feel otherworldly.
Belatedly, she remembers Johnny’s order. She leans down to kiss Simon, her lips leathery against his. She only wants a modest peck—something to sate Johnny—but she can’t pull away because her bottom lip is caught between Simon’s teeth, pinched, and being sapped of its blood.
He laps it up before letting her go.
He slips his softening cock out but keeps his come inside her with two fingers, his claws having retracted.
He huffs like a bull. He presses his heavy paw into her abused cunt, palming it. He reeks with a carnal musk, the aftertaste of his rut heavy in the air.
Suddenly, it all makes sense to her.
Simon is the crux of all cautionary tales. The mountains aren’t sworn off because of rabid raccoons or feral fishers but because of something eldritch, whose reputation and folklore precedes any proof of its existence. Whatever Simon is, it can’t be put into words or into anything material, so he’s condensed into the urban legends that have haunted the woods for centuries. The stories that keep hikers off needle-covered paths and unmarked trees and make them carry crucifixes in lieu of bear spray.
She doesn’t even realize she’s softly sobbing. It feels like that’s all she does these days.
Johnny hugs her as if he hadn’t taken a part of her dignity.
He kisses her, kittening into her so that Simon is able to wrap his arms around them both, hugging them.
The calm that lolls after the storm only bruises her further. They act so normal after they’ve stripped her of everything. Johnny massaging her thighs, Simon igniting a cigarette between his lips.
“Will you ever let me go?” She mumbles against Simon’s chest.
He exhales the smoke. “Go where, love? You came into my house, remember?”
Johnny won’t stop kissing her. He’s a pest that’s attached itself to her dewy flesh, trying to lick her clean. Simon curls his fingers in her and makes sure that’s where his come stays.
Simon takes another drag of his cigarette. “Not like anyone back home would miss you, anyhow.”
———
She watches with a smile on her face as Johnny roasts the flank of a moose on a homemade grill and as Simon chops some more firewood.
She lounges in a chair, swathed in her caribou-hide coat. Winter is at its height, laying a skin of pillowy snow across the mountain.
The cubs wriggle in her lap, pawing at the loose tendrils of her hair and trying to pinch her nose.
“Lookin’ so pretty today, mama,” Johnny hums. She giggles when he kisses her, scratching at the cubs’ bellies.
“Ain’t she bonnie?” Johnny turns around and prompts Simon, “Our wee looker.”
Simon pauses his wood chopping and nods. He grips the hem of his lumberman’s jacket and raises it to his forehead to wipe his sweat away, revealing his chest and his hair that disappears into the waistband of his jeans. The cubs yip when he resumes his chopping, splitting a tree stump in two.
She grins.
She loves her family. Her providers and the offspring of their seed. She loves the cubs’ fine hair rubbing against her cheek when they jump on the bed to wake them up in the mornings, their blunt fangs biting her when they’re hungry, and the tiny chines on their back where their sharp spine will eventually grow in, just like Simon’s.
Briefly, she tries to remember her other family. The one that came before this one. But all that encompasses her mind is a supermassive black hole in place of memories. For some reason she can’t delineate them. The face of her father is blurry and the features of her mother fit together like a crudely sewn patchwork quilt.
She doesn’t remember much of her family. It’s kind of weird. She can’t remember if they liked her or not.
But she knows that doesn’t matter. Not when she has doting men around her and their litter hanging off her hips, another one currently swelling under her belly.
She pays no heed to the missing person posters taped to the fringes of the mountain that look eerily similar to her. Not to the K-9’s that try tracking scents but fail because she’s written with Simon and Johnny’s musk. She ignores the odd helicopter passing through each month, scarcely flying past their ramshackle cabin.
None of it matters because she knows she’s where she needs to be.
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