Jenna Ortega X Reader - Blog Posts

Do you take requests for will pouters character in death of a unicorn?

𝐲𝐞𝐬 !!

I don't have a masterlist set up for doau yet, but I will at some point, I promise lol. 'til then, though, I am happy to take requests for both him (shepard) and jenna's character as well (ridley), so feel free to send 'em in :) !!

INCORRECT QUOTES

*Wednesday talking to her partner (reader) who suffers from suicidal thoughts/tendencies*

W : “question. would you die for me?”

Y/N : “yes”

W : “that’s too easy…would you…would you live for me? Hm?”

Still one of the best fics I’ve read

legally binded - masterlist

Jenna Ortega x Famous!Reader

main masterlist

taglist is closed

Summary: After getting caught in some hot waters with the press, you are forced into an unexpected agreement with America's sweetheart, Jenna Ortega to save your career.

Warnings/Tags: dual!pov, famous!reader, mature language, mentions of intoxication/alcohol, mentions of hard substances/drugs, angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, real people. (16+)

(do not read if any of these make you uncomfortable, u are responsible for the media u consume)

Chapters: (ongoing)

Chapter 1: Legally Binded (2.1k)

Chapter 2: Lakers, Headlines... New York? (6.3k)

Chapter 3: Movie Premieres, SNL, Quarrels (6.4k)

Chapter 4: Family Bonding, Festivals and Feelings? (6.0k)

Drabble #1: The Week in Coachella (3.8k)

Chapter 5: Strobe Lights and a Strong Drink (6.0k)

Chapter 6: Met Gala and Miscommunication (7.2k)

Chapter 7: The Afterparty (4.0k)

Chapter 8: Beetlejuice and London Blues (8.2k)

Chapter 9: Grand Prix and Grand Gestures (5.6k)

-

updated as of 07/09/23

her own undoing

pairing: cairo sweet & female reader

summary: for the first time, one of cairo's actions doesn't go as planned; backfires and leaves her to face the consequences.

word count: 8.0k

author’s note: tell me if smth is confusing

You and Cairo had been inseparable for as long as you could remember.

The kind of friendship where one person's name always followed the other, like an inevitable pairing.

Cairo and you. You and Cairo. It was a constant, a certainty, even when everything else felt like it was shifting.

You'd been there through it all: the days when Cairo's sharp wit earned her more enemies than friends, the times her wild schemes left you both in trouble, and the moments when she leaned too far into chaos, dragging you along for the ride.

People called her trouble, said she was too much, too intense, too unpredictable.

But where they saw a storm, you'd always seen something else—an unrelenting force of nature, sure, but also someone who could light up a room when she wasn't burning it down.

It wasn't always easy, being her best friend. Cairo had a way of taking up all the space in the room, leaving little for anyone else. But you didn't mind—not really. You liked the way her presence made everything feel bigger, brighter, more alive. And when her edges got too sharp, cutting into anyone who dared get too close, you stayed. You always stayed.

That loyalty had been tested before, but never like this.

Lately, Cairo had been different.

Sharper, somehow. Restless in a way that felt dangerous, even for her. It started with the way she spoke about Mr. Miller, the high school English teacher who barely acknowledged Cairo's sharp intellect and sharper tongue. She claimed he was condescending, always brushing her off when she tried to speak up in class. But there was something else behind the way she lingered on his name—something more personal.

When she finally told you her plan, it felt like the ground had shifted beneath you.

She was going to seduce him. That was her big idea. She'd said it with that confident smirk of hers, like it was all a joke, daring you to challenge her.

She claimed it was for her college admissions essay, said she had nothing interesting to write about and needed something that would "stand out." But you knew better. Cairo wasn't interested in crafting the perfect essay. No, she was still hung up on the fact that she was a virgin.

You'd tried to talk her out of it, to reason with her, but Cairo wasn't someone you could reason with once her mind was made up. And when her plan backfired—when Mr. Miller brushed her off and scolded her for being inappropriate—it sent her into a spiral.

Cairo never got scolded. Never got told no.

Her parents were always gone, too preoccupied with their own lives to bother enforcing rules or boundaries. So when Mr. Miller did what no one else ever dared to do, she couldn't take it. It wasn't just rejection. It was humiliation. And Cairo wasn't built to handle that.

The bitterness festered, twisting her anger into something sharper, uglier. She started talking about him like he was an enemy, plotting ways to "teach him a lesson" or "knock him off his pedestal."

At first, you'd tried to brush it off, telling yourself it was just another one of her phases. But tonight, as you stood in the doorway of her bedroom, watching her scribble furiously on a crumpled piece of paper, you realized this was different.

Cairo thought her plan was flawless.

Perfect, even. She'd spent hours rehearsing every angle, every word, until she could see it unfolding as clearly as a scene in one of those old noir films she loved.

Her testimony would be bold, damning, unforgettable. She'd finally show everyone—him—what happened when someone underestimated her. The satisfaction of it burned low in her chest, warm and steady, as if victory were already hers.

She sat on the edge of her bed, legs crossed, her pen moving across the page in sharp, deliberate strokes. The smoke from her cigarette curled lazily above her head, the faint scent of tobacco mixing with her perfume.

Satisfaction flickered across her face, subtle but unmistakable, as though she'd already won a game nobody was even playing.

The room was quiet except for the scratch of her pen, a rhythm she found oddly soothing amidst her growing anger.

The sound of your voice broke through the stillness like a slap.

"Cairo, what are you doing?"

Cairo's pen stilled mid-word. For a moment, she didn't move, her hand hovering above the page as she weighed her options.

Pretend not to hear you? Act like nothing was out of the ordinary? The anger in your tone suggested neither would work, and something sour twisted in her stomach. Slowly, she placed the pen down, flicking ash from her cigarette with a casualness she didn't feel.

"I'm completing my admissions essay," she said, her voice smooth and detached, rehearsed to sound nonchalant.

Her words were clipped, her tone dismissive, as if your presence were a minor inconvenience—just another interruption in her meticulously crafted plan. But even as she spoke, Cairo could feel the fragile edges of her control fraying.

Then she heard it: your footsteps.

Each step closer made her chest tighten, a quiet panic rising beneath her practiced exterior. She focused on the cigarette between her fingers, watching the smoke curl upward in lazy tendrils, as though ignoring the tension in the room might make it disappear.

You stepped further into the room, your movements deliberate, each step purposeful and calculated. Your gaze swept over the bed—the scattered papers, the chaotic but purposeful arrangement of her notes. Everything about it felt off, and your expression told Cairo that you knew it.

"Cairo, don't bullshit me."

The directness of your words made her freeze, the cigarette trembling slightly between her fingers. You'd never spoken to her like that before, not with that sharpness. It threw her off balance in a way she wasn't used to.

You were the constant. The one who stayed when everyone else called her too much, too strange. The one who always agreed, who always supported her.

The one who wasn't supposed to look at her like that.

"What's going on?"

She fought to keep her expression neutral, forcing a smirk that felt far less convincing than usual. "What's it look like?"

It was a weak defense, and she knew it. So did you.

Your jaw tightened, and there was something in your eyes she couldn't quite place—concern, maybe, but also something sharper, like betrayal. You stepped closer, and Cairo's heart began to race—not with fear, but frustration.

Why couldn't you just let it go? Why did you have to question her, of all people?

"It looks like you're planning something," you said, your tone measured but edged with something bitter. Your gaze moved over the bed again, taking in the crumpled pages, the sharp handwriting, the chaos she'd created in pursuit of perfection.

"Something that's going to blow up in your face."

The accusation stung, sharper than she expected. For a split second, her smirk faltered, the confidence she wore like armor slipping just enough to reveal the unease beneath it.

She quickly forced it back into place. "I'm testifying against him," she said, the words deliberate, carefully chosen, like she was reciting lines from a script.

But your reaction shattered her attempt at calm.

The flicker of disbelief in your expression sparked a strange, hollow satisfaction in her chest. Let you be shocked. Let you struggle to process it. Maybe then you'd understand.

"Testifying?"

She nodded, the motion sharp and deliberate, as though solidifying her decision. Standing, she began to pace, her thoughts spiraling in tandem with each step. Her movements were restless, her anger—a low, simmering thing—flared brighter when she caught the way your concern clouded your face.

"In front of the school board," she clarified, her tone detached, as if she weren't actively dismantling someone's life. She flicked ash from her cigarette, her gestures deliberately careless.

You blinked, the weight of her words settling in as you tried to reconcile what you were hearing with the person you thought you knew. "Are you serious?" you asked, your voice softening, though tension still underpinned your words. "Do you know what that'll do to him?"

There it was—your care, your empathy, spilling out in the way it always did. Cairo's chest tightened, her stomach twisting with a volatile mix of resentment and shame. She didn't need you to care about him. She needed you to see her. To understand why this mattered.

"He underestimated me," she said, her voice dropping lower, her pacing slowing. Her eyes narrowed as she stared at the floor, her fingers curling tighter around the cigarette. "I overestimated him."

Your silence hit her harder than she expected, the weight of it unbearable. She glanced at you out of the corner of her eye, the way your lips pressed into a thin line, your arms crossed, your expression unreadable.

The disappointment lingering in your eyes was louder than anything you could've said, and it cut deeper than she wanted to admit.

"So, what?" you said finally, your voice firmer now. "This is revenge? Because he didn't fall for your game?"

The words landed like a blow, a direct hit to a nerve she hadn't realized was exposed. Her smirk tightened into a thin, rigid line, and her hand trembled slightly as she stubbed out the cigarette in the ashtray on her desk.

"It's justice," she said, forcing the word out, as if saying it enough times could make it true.

"Justice?" Your disbelief carried a sharper edge now, and you took a step closer, your voice rising with frustration. "Cairo, this isn't some movie. You're playing with someone's life."

Her nails dug into her palm as your words sank in. Flames of anger licked at her chest, fueled by a suffocating mix of guilt and defiance. You were supposed to understand. You were supposed to agree, like you always had.

That was your role. That was what made everything work.

"You don't get it," she said, her tone softening, though it was laced with something almost pitying. "You never have."

"No," you shot back, your voice steady and unwavering. "I don't. Because this isn't you. At least, I didn't think it was."

The remark sliced through her defenses, sharp and unrelenting, leaving her raw in a way she hadn't felt in years. For a long moment, she could only stare at you, her heart pounding against her ribs. Anger swirled with shame, tangling into something unrecognizable, and for the first time, she felt the edges of control slipping from her grasp.

"You've always had such a sweet way of looking at the world," she said finally, her voice turning mocking to hide the crack in it. "It must be exhausting."

"And you've always been too proud to admit when you're wrong," you countered, your tone colder now, the words landing with precision. "But this? This is cruel, Cairo. Even for you."

Her mask cracked at that, the smirk falling away as the anger simmering beneath the surface began to boil over. But she refused to let it show. Instead, she turned her back on you, pacing toward the bed as her fists clenched at her sides.

"Maybe you don't know me as well as you think," she said, her voice colder now, mechanical in its delivery.

But the weight of her own words hit her almost immediately, settling heavily in her chest, suffocating her in a way she couldn't escape. The truth was, you knew her better than anyone. You always had. And that was the part that scared her the most.

Cairo's jaw clenched so tightly it hurt. She could feel the heat rising in her chest, burning hotter with every second that passed. You weren't supposed to talk to her like this. Not you. Everyone else could think she was too much, could roll their eyes and call her dramatic, but not you.

You were supposed to get it. To get her. That had always been the unspoken rule between you. You didn't argue with her schemes, didn't question her decisions—no matter how reckless or wild they seemed. You were the steady one, the loyal one, the one who always stuck by her side when no one else would.

She'd always relied on that. Counted on it, even. But now, standing in her room with your arms crossed and that look on your face—the one that said you thought she was wrong—it felt like the ground was shifting under her feet.

"Why are you doing this?" you asked, your voice quieter now but still firm, still pushing.

Her hands curled into fists at her sides. The words themselves weren't what set her off; it was the tone. Like you thought you knew better. Like you thought she was being ridiculous.

"You don't understand," Cairo snapped, her voice sharper than she intended. She turned away from you, pacing to the other side of the room as if putting distance between you would help her think.

The truth was, she didn't know how to explain it. She'd never had to before—not to you. You'd always just gone along with whatever she said, even when it didn't make sense. It was part of why she needed you, part of why she'd kept you so close all these years.

But now, you were standing there with that stubborn look on your face, and it was like every time someone had told her "no" or "you can't" was flooding back all at once.

Like when her parents had laughed off her dreams of going to college out of state, saying she'd never survive without them. Or when that teacher in middle school had told her she'd amount to nothing if she didn't learn to sit still and follow the rules.

But this was worse. Because it was you.

"You're supposed to have my back," she said finally, her voice lower now but no less angry. She turned to face you, her eyes blazing. "That's what you've always done."

You didn't flinch, didn't even blink. "Not if it means watching you ruin someone's life," you said, your tone calm but unwavering.

Cairo felt something snap. Her vision blurred at the edges, her thoughts coming so fast she couldn't hold onto any of them.

"Why do you care so much about him?" she almost shouted, her voice breaking slightly. She hated the way it sounded, raw and desperate, but she couldn't stop herself. "He doesn't care about you. He doesn't care about anyone!"

"And that's supposed to make this okay?" you shot back, your own voice rising now. "Because he didn't care for your attempt of seduction, it's fine to ruin him? That's not justice, Cairo—that's you being a bully."

The word hit her like a slap. A bully. She'd been called a lot of things in her life—manipulative, selfish, too intense—but bully wasn't one of them. She stared at you, her chest heaving, her nails biting into her palms so hard she thought they might break the skin.

For a moment, she didn't say anything. She couldn't.

Her chest rose and fell in uneven breaths, her face a storm of emotions she couldn't contain.

She wanted to scream, to drag you into her world and force you to see things her way; like you always had. But all you did was stand there, your arms crossed, your expression hard and unrelenting.

The silence stretched too long, filled with the sharp scent of cigarette smoke and the suffocating weight of her frustration. She could feel her fury boiling over, pushing against the edges of her control.

"I can't believe you're acting like this," she said finally, her voice trembling, half with rage and half with disbelief. "After everything I've done for you."

Your eyebrows shot up. "Everything you've done for me?" The disbelief in your voice cut deep, sharper than she expected. "You mean dragging me into your messes? Covering for you every time you screw something up? Cairo, that's not loyalty—that's enabling."

Her face twisted, a mix of anger and something dangerously close to hurt. "You're seriously turning this on me?"

You shook your head, stepping back toward the door. "I'm not turning anything on you. I'm just—" You stopped, exhaling sharply, like you didn't know how to say what you needed to. "I'm just done with this, Cairo. You don't care about anyone but yourself."

The words hit her like a punch to the gut. She'd heard them before, from teachers, from her parents, from so-called friends who didn't stick around. But hearing them from you? It felt like the world was tilting off its axis.

She watched as you reached for the doorknob, her stomach twisting into knots. "So that's it?" she said, her voice low, deadly. "You're just going to walk away?"

You hesitated, your hand resting on the knob, but you didn't turn back. "Yeah," you said finally. "I am."

The door clicked shut behind you, and the sound echoed in the vast emptiness of the room. Cairo stood there, frozen, staring at the space you'd just occupied. For a moment, she felt nothing at all, just the numbness that came with realizing she was truly, utterly alone.

The mansion around her seemed to close in, its dark corners and cold walls pressing against her like a physical weight. No parents. No friends. No one but herself and the stale, ever-present scent of cigarette smoke.

And that was when it hit her—the rage.

Her hand slammed against the edge of the desk, sending a stack of papers tumbling to the floor. You were supposed to get her. You were supposed to agree. That was how this worked. You were the one who told her it was all fine, the one who stood by her side no matter how crazy things got.

But you didn't. You didn't tell her it was a great idea. You didn't tell her she was right. And that betrayal—it burned hotter than anything she'd felt before.

If she couldn't ruin Mr. Miller, she'd ruin you instead.

The thought was so clear, so sharp, it was like a switch flipped in her brain. You thought you could walk away from her, leave her to stew in this? Fine. But she wasn't going to let you come out of this unscathed.

Cairo knelt down, her hands shaking as she gathered the scattered papers from the floor. Her movements were slow, deliberate, as if each page she picked up solidified her resolve. By the time she stood, the fire in her chest had consumed every shred of doubt.

You would regret this. She would make sure of it.

___

It wouldn't be hard. Cairo knew that much.

In a school like yours—like hers—people believed anything as long as it was juicy enough to distract from their own boring lives. A small-town high school in the middle of nowhere, Tennessee, didn't offer much in the way of excitement. So when there was even the faintest whiff of scandal, people ran with it.

She thought of how last year, someone started a rumor that Sarah Bishop was pregnant. By third period, half the school had already decided the father was her ex-boyfriend, and by lunch, they'd pinned it on a senior she'd never even spoken to. The truth didn't matter. Sarah's denial didn't matter. The story was too good to let go of, and Cairo had watched, half-amused, as it unraveled Sarah's life for weeks.

Or the time someone claimed Mr. Thompson had been fired for sleeping with a student. He hadn't even been fired—just transferred to another district—but that didn't stop the whispers, the snickering in the hallways. It didn't stop people from glancing at random students, wondering who the lucky—or unlucky—one was.

People were starving for something to talk about. It didn't even have to be plausible. It just had to stick. And if there was one thing Cairo Sweet was good at, it was making things stick.

Her mind whirled with possibilities, her anger sharpening every detail into focus. The pieces were already there, waiting for her to assemble them into the perfect story. The kind that wouldn't just ruin your reputation but would linger, infecting every interaction you had at that school.

Cairo sat back on the edge of her bed, the cigarette still clutched in her fingers, her lips curving into a slow, bitter smile. She'd light the match and watch it burn.

And you? You'd have no idea what hit you.

So the next morning, Cairo walked to school with purpose, the cold air biting at her cheeks as her plan solidified in her mind.

She hadn't slept, her thoughts running wild, feeding on her anger until it consumed her entirely. By the time she reached the gates, her smile was sharp and satisfied, her rage buried deep beneath the cool detachment she wore like armor.

Winnie was waiting near the courtyard, leaning against a bench and scrolling through her phone. Cairo approached her casually, though the fire in her chest burned hotter with every step. Winnie wasn't just any friend—she was the one with the loudest mouth, the one who lived for drama, thrived on it. If anyone could spread a rumor faster than wildfire, it was her.

It hadn't taken much for Cairo to spin the story, just enough details to make it believable but tantalizing enough to keep people guessing. She'd started with a nonchalant mention of Mr. Miller's sudden absence, dropping hints that she'd heard "something big." Winnie's interest was immediate, her phone slipping into her pocket as she turned her full attention to Cairo.

And then Cairo had delivered the blow, the rumor she'd carefully constructed in the sleepless hours of the night. You and Mr. Miller. A secret relationship. A scandal so twisted it explained everything—why he wasn't at school anymore, why he'd been fired.

She'd painted the picture vividly, her words dripping with calculated disgust: the late meetings, the whispers behind closed doors, the final confrontation that led to his downfall.

Cairo had been deliberate, choosing every word to strike at the heart of what would horrify and captivate the school's gossipy, bored population. Sleeping with a teacher wasn't just scandalous—it was unforgivable. And it fit perfectly into the narrative she wanted to create. It was your fault he was gone. You'd ruined him. You'd dragged everyone into your mess.

Winnie's eyes had widened, her hand flying to her mouth in shock before she'd quickly recovered, leaning closer to hear more. Cairo had fed her just enough to make it irresistible, dropping hints about where you'd supposedly met him and how it had all unraveled.

The beauty of it was that it didn't need to be true. It only needed to sound like it could be.

By the time Cairo walked away, she didn't even have to look back to know the wheels were already in motion. Winnie would tell someone else, who would tell someone else, and by lunch, the whole school would be buzzing with whispers and sideways glances.

It was the perfect plan, Cairo thought, her hands buried deep in her coat pockets as she made her way to class. A masterpiece of manipulation, tailored to destroy you in the same way you'd tried to dismantle her.

She didn't need to say another word. The damage was already done.

She didn't feel doubt either. Normal people might've cringed or hesitated when they heard whispers echoing through the halls—heard your name paired with Mr. Miller's in hushed, scandalized tones.

Normal people might've felt a pang of guilt at the sight of you walking into school, oblivious to the tidal wave of rumors about to crash over you. But Cairo wasn't normal. She never had been, and she knew it.

Her parents used to tell her as much, back when they still tried to parent her. "You've always been different, Cairo," her mother would say, her voice careful, measured, like she was trying not to provoke something. And her father? He didn't say much at all, but his absence spoke louder than any words could. They were always gone, always "working," always finding new reasons not to be around.

She wasn't stupid. She'd started to wonder if work was just an excuse. Maybe they didn't know what to do with her. Maybe they couldn't stand to be around her.

But that was fine. Cairo didn't need them. She didn't need anyone.

She convinced herself of that now as she strolled through the hallway, catching snippets of conversation, fleeting glances at the chaos she'd created.

"Did you hear—?"

"...Mr. Miller?"

"I always thought she was kind of weird..."

It should've stung, hearing them talk about you like that. But it didn't.

Because this was how things had to be.

In Cairo's world, there were no compromises, no apologies, no middle ground. There was only winning or losing. And if you weren't with her, you were against her.

She thought about the way you'd stood there yesterday, daring to question her, to challenge her. You were supposed to agree with her. That's what friends did, wasn't it? That's what YOU were supposed to do. You were supposed to see her plan for what it was—brilliant, unstoppable—and back her up without hesitation.

But you didn't.i

And now, you saw what happened when you didn't.

For Cairo, this wasn't revenge—it was balance. It was restoring the natural order of things. You'd crossed her, so she had to ruin you. That was the only way she knew how to handle betrayal. She didn't understand how to argue it out or let it go. She only knew how to burn it to the ground.

She'd done it before. She could still remember the look on Taylor Myers' face when Cairo had spread that rumor about her stealing from the drama club fundraiser.

Taylor had cried in the bathroom for weeks. She'd eventually left school altogether. But Cairo hadn't felt bad then, either. Taylor had deserved it.

She'd said something snide to Cairo in class, and Cairo had responded the only way she knew how: with fire.

This wasn't any different. If anything, it was worse. You hadn't just made a snide comment—you'd betrayed her. You'd questioned her.

So she would ruin you, just like she ruined everyone else who dared to cross her.

And maybe, in the quiet moments, when she thought too hard about why she was like this, she felt a flicker of unease. But she buried it deep, under layers of pride and rage.

Because what else could she do? This was who she was.

Now, Cairo was leaning against her locker, one hand gripping the metal door while the other fidgeted with the zipper of her jacket. The hallway was loud with overlapping conversations, but her focus was elsewhere. She wasn't paying attention to her surroundings—not really. She was waiting. For you.

And then she saw you.

You walked through the corridor, your head held a little lower than usual, your gaze flitting uncertainly between the clusters of students you passed. You didn't look at Cairo. Not even once. But everyone else? You couldn't avoid them.

The whispers were pointed now, no longer concealed behind cupped hands or turned backs. Someone standing by the water fountain said something loud enough for you to hear, their voice laced with mockery.

A group of girls by the lockers looked you up and down, their expressions curled into sneers.

One of them muttered something—just a single word—but it was enough to send a ripple of laughter through their group.

And you? You just kept walking, your lips pressed tightly together, your face betraying what you were trying so hard to hide. Confusion. Hurt.

Cairo's stomach twisted.

She didn't want to feel it, but she did—a pang of something sharp and uncomfortable, cutting through the armor she'd built around herself. For a moment, her mask nearly slipped. For a moment, she remembered exactly who she had done this to.

It wasn't just anyone. It wasn't some random classmate who'd made an offhand comment she didn't like. It wasn't an enemy or a stranger.

It was you.

Her best friend.

And for the briefest of moments, the fire in her chest faltered, replaced by something she couldn't quite name. Regret? Doubt? She didn't know.

All she knew was that the look on your face—the way you blinked back whatever emotions were welling up, the way you kept moving even as the whispers grew louder—made her stomach churn.

But then she reminded herself why she'd done this.

You had tried to scold her. You hadn't supported her like you were supposed to. You hadn't told her it was a great idea. You hadn't agreed with her.

That was your mistake.

So no, her mask didn't fully slip. The flicker of guilt was smothered before it could grow. She gripped the edge of her locker tighter, her knuckles turning white, and forced herself to hold onto the anger. Because that was easier. That was familiar.

By the time you disappeared into your next class, the churning in her stomach had faded. All that remained was the satisfaction of knowing she'd taught you what happened when you didn't side with her.

And maybe, just maybe, that satisfaction wasn't as comforting as it should've been.

But as Cairo slammed her locker shut, the faint echo of your face lingered in her mind—confused, hurt, and vulnerable. It was only a matter of time, she thought.

She could already picture it: you standing in front of her, eyes wide with regret, voice trembling as you apologized.

You'd tell her you were sorry. That you should've supported her. That you hadn't meant to go against her.

The thought soothed the last trace of unease in her chest, replacing it with a cruel sort of satisfaction.

Because you'd come crawling back. You always did.

___

By the time next day arrived, Cairo had barely slept. She had laid on her bed, staring at the cracks in the ceiling as the hours stretched on endlessly. Every time her eyelids grew heavy, her mind would jolt her awake again, replaying fragments of the day she wished she could forget.

She had tried to blame the restlessness on the scratch in her throat, the raspy cough brought on by the cigarettes she'd burned through in a desperate attempt to calm herself down. But deep down, she knew it wasn't the smoke.

It was the silence.

An entire day had passed without speaking to you—a record. She hadn't spoken to you during lunch, in the hallways, or even through text. She had told herself it didn't matter, but the silence had gnawed at her insides until she felt hollow.

What had unsettled her most, though, was the memory of you in the corridor. She could still see the look on your face, clear as day—the confusion, the flicker of hurt, as people stared at you, whispering openly. They hadn't even tried to hide it, glaring or laughing as you'd walked by. And you?

You had looked around at everyone but her, clearly searching for answers, completely unaware of the storm Cairo had unleashed.

That was what had kept her up all night. You didn't know.

She had rolled over onto her side, burying her face in her pillow as if that could smother the thoughts clawing at her. She had tried to remind herself why she'd done it.

You hadn't agreed with her. You had scolded her, told her she was wrong, tried to stop her. You were supposed to understand her, supposed to stand by her, but instead, you'd turned against her.

Still, it hadn't gone away. By the time she'd finally fallen asleep, it had been far too late, and the restless hours she'd managed hadn't done much to help. When she'd woken up, the unease had clung to her chest, heavy and unrelenting, like it was a part of her.

It was a feeling she couldn't describe, though that wasn't new. She had lived with that kind of nameless heaviness since she was seven. But this? This was different.

When she had walked into the corridor where your lockers were, it had only gotten worse.

Students were clustered in groups, leaning against walls, whispering and giggling behind their hands. Some pointed toward a single locker, their laughter spilling out in bursts. Others simply walked past, sparing a glance and then smirking as they moved on.

Cairo hadn't thought much of it—until she had gotten close enough to see what they were laughing at.

It was your locker.

A single piece of paper had been taped across the front, its letters bold and jagged.

SKANK.

Cairo's breath had caught for a moment, but she had quickly swallowed it down. She had felt something twist in her stomach, but she had forced her expression to remain blank as she passed by.

Students were still pointing and snickering, some snapping pictures on their phones, others nudging each other and whispering even louder when they saw you walking in.

Cairo quickly walked to her locker, which was further down the corridor. Her pulse thrummed in her ears as she yanked the door open and pretended to sift through her things. She didn't want you to think she was the one who had done it.

Of course, technically, she was—the rumor she had planted had led to this, even if she hadn't physically taped that paper to your locker. Still, she couldn't stand the idea of you connecting her to it, of you knowing.

She kept her back turned, keeping her movements deliberate and unhurried, but the noise behind her—the laughter, the whispers—was impossible to tune out. She was itching to look, to see what you were doing. And eventually, she did.

Turning just slightly, she let her eyes find you again.

You were still standing in front of your locker, frozen, staring at the word scrawled across the paper as if trying to understand how it had gotten there.

Your brows were furrowed, your lips pressed tightly together, and your shoulders trembled just enough to be noticeable. It was the way your chin tilted ever so slightly upward, like you were trying to hold yourself together, that hit Cairo the hardest.

Your eyes were glassy, shimmering with unshed tears that you refused to let fall. The confusion on your face was heartbreaking—because it was clear you didn't know why this had happened. You didn't know who had done it, or why.

It broke something in Cairo, watching you like that.

Her mask—the cool, detached exterior she had perfected over the years—almost shattered completely.

She tried to remind herself of why she'd done this. You hadn't agreed with her. You had scolded her. You had stood in her way, when you were supposed to stand with her. And this—this was what happened to people who didn't.

But none of it felt like enough anymore.

You turned your head, scanning the hallway for any signs of who might have done it. But everyone avoided your gaze. Some were glaring or whispering behind their hands, others laughing outright, and the rest simply turned away the moment you looked in their direction.

And then your eyes landed on her.

For a moment, everything seemed to stop.

Cairo could feel her chest tighten as she held your gaze. She could see the question there, unspoken but loud enough to hear in her head: Was it you?

And for a split second, Cairo thought about stepping forward. About saying something, anything, that might erase the look on your face, the crack in your voice that would inevitably follow if you spoke.

But she didn't.

Instead, she forced her façade to stay in place, locking down the guilt threatening to spill over. Her jaw tightened as she turned back to her locker, shoving a book inside with more force than necessary.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw you finally move. You ripped the paper from your locker, crumpling it in your fist. Your movements were quick and sharp, but not angry—just desperate, like you were trying to erase it before anyone else could see.

And then you yanked open your locker, shoving the crumpled paper inside before slamming it shut. The clang of the metal door echoed down the hallway, cutting through the noise like a knife.

Cairo didn't look at you again. She couldn't.

By the time lunch rolled around, the rumor Cairo had started had taken on a life of its own. The cafeteria buzzed with hushed voices, none of them low enough to be discreet. Cairo could feel it in the air, thick and suffocating—a storm she had set loose but couldn't control.

Sliding into her usual seat, she kept her head low, poking at the sandwich on her tray as the conversations around her hit her like punches to the gut. None of it sounded like what she had told Winnie. Not even close.

"I heard she's pregnant with his kid," a girl at the next table whispered, her tone a mix of disgust and disbelief. "That's why he left. He's, like, running from the responsibility."

"Pregnant?" another voice chimed in. "No way. I heard she was doing it for better grades, but it got out of hand, and he had to leave because it was a whole thing with the administration."

"She's probably slept with all the male teachers," someone muttered nearby, barely hiding their laughter. "Wouldn't be surprised if that's how she got through high school in the first place."

Cairo's stomach churned.

Every new twist, every new grotesque fabrication, felt like a weight pressing down on her chest. None of this was what she had said. She had been deliberate, precise, sticking to just enough to make it believable. She had wanted to hurt you, yes, but she hadn't expected it to spiral this far, this quickly.

And now? Now it was everywhere.

She clenched her fists under the table, her knuckles whitening as she stared down at her untouched lunch. Cairo never panicked. She didn't know how. Chaos was her playground; she was the one who thrived in it, the one who created it. But now, for the first time, she felt like the chaos was swallowing her whole.

This wasn't what she'd wanted. She didn't want people to think you were pregnant, or that you'd been sleeping with other teachers, or any of the other twisted lies that were spreading like wildfire.

Her breath hitched when she overheard another snippet of conversation from the table behind her.

"She probably blackmailed him," a boy said, loud enough for half the cafeteria to hear. "That's why he left so fast. She's got dirt on all of them, I bet."

Cairo's pulse was racing, her chest tight with something she couldn't name. Guilt? Fear? She didn't know, and she didn't want to. All she knew was that she'd started something she couldn't stop, and now it was spiraling out of control.

Her hands trembled as she picked up her sandwich, forcing herself to take a bite. The dry bread caught in her throat, but she swallowed it down, refusing to let anyone see her crack. She was Cairo Sweet, after all. She didn't panic. She didn't feel bad.

But then she thought about you. About the look on your face that morning. About how you had stared at her, confused and hurt, like you were searching for answers in her eyes.

And suddenly, she wasn't so sure about any of it anymore.

She sat frozen at her table, staring blankly at her tray. She wasn't sure how long she had been sitting there when she noticed you enter.

You held a tray of food against your hip, walking with a calmness that almost seemed defiant. Your expression was blank, almost disinterested, as though the entire day hadn't been spent tearing you apart in the cruelest ways imaginable.

Cairo's chest tightened at the sight, her eyes glued to you as you scanned the room. She could see what you were looking for—somewhere, anywhere you could sit by yourself.

And for a moment, it seemed like you'd found it. Your gaze lingered on a bench in the far corner, away from the noise, the eyes, the whispers.

But before you could take another step toward the corner bench you'd spotted, someone's voice sliced through the air, louder than the rest.

"That Y/N slut slept with Mr. Miller," the voice sneered, dripping with mockery. "Heard she's pregnant, too. Maybe that's why she's always looking so bloated."

The words hung there, loud enough for half the cafeteria to hear, and Cairo's heart stopped.

Your head turned sharply toward the source, and Cairo saw the way your shoulders stiffened, your tray trembling in your hands. They didn't see you—too wrapped up in their laughter, too oblivious to the pain they were causing—but Cairo saw everything.

And then, your gaze shifted. You turned your head, scanning the crowd, and Cairo's stomach dropped.

You were looking for her.

When your eyes finally found hers, it was like a punch to the chest. Cairo froze, every muscle in her body locking up as if she'd been caught in a spotlight.

She didn't dare look away, even though she wanted to. Even though she couldn't stand the way you were staring at her.

Your eyes were glassy, tears brimming just enough to make the cafeteria lights reflect in them. But they didn't fall. Your jaw was clenched tight, your lips pressed into a trembling line as if holding back the urge to scream.

And the look you gave her—it was like a knife twisting in her gut.

You knew.

Cairo's breath hitched as she felt your gaze bore into her, relentless and unyielding. It was the same look you'd given her when you were kids, the time she'd blamed you for stealing cookies from the jar in front of her parents. Back then, it was a childish betrayal, the kind that faded by the next day.

This wasn't.

This was anger and hurt, disbelief and something that felt far worse: recognition. You looked at her as if she had been the one to put the note on your locker. And in a way, you weren't wrong.

Cairo's lips trembled, and she quickly bit the inside of her cheek to steady herself. It was ridiculous. Cairo Sweet didn't panic. She didn't regret. She didn't crack.

But now, under your gaze, she felt like she was crumbling.

You didn't say a word. You didn't need to. The way you stared at her, as if she were a stranger, said more than words ever could.

And then, without breaking eye contact, you turned on your heel.

Cairo's breath caught as she watched you stride to the nearest trash can. Your movements were sharp, deliberate, each step like a hammer driving a nail into her chest. When you reached it, you dumped your entire tray of food into the bin with a force that made it clang loudly, drawing the attention of half the room.

You didn't hesitate. You didn't pause. You just walked out, your head held high despite the tears threatening to spill.

Cairo sat frozen, her lungs struggling for air as the cafeteria noise gradually swelled back around her. People whispered and laughed again, oblivious to the storm raging inside her.

Her mind was spinning, replaying everything in an endless loop. She had wanted to hurt you, to punish you for standing in her way, for not agreeing with her plan.

But now, watching you walk out of the cafeteria—broken but still carrying yourself with a dignity she'd tried so hard to strip away—she realized something she couldn't ignore.

Cairo sat frozen, her lungs still fighting for air as the cafeteria roared back to life around her. The noise felt distant, muffled, like she was underwater. People were still laughing, still whispering, still twisting the knife deeper into the wound she had created. But Cairo didn't hear them. Not really.

Her mind spun in endless circles, replaying the way you'd looked at her—the tears in your eyes, the sharpness of your jaw, the weight of your silence. It was unbearable. It was suffocating.

And it was entirely her fault.

She had wanted to hurt you. She could admit that now, if only to herself. She had wanted to knock you down a peg, to remind you that you weren't perfect, that you didn't always get to be the one who was right. You'd stood in her way, called her out, refused to see things her way. And for that, she had wanted you to feel what it was like to lose.

But this?

This wasn't what she had expected.

Cairo had told herself it would be harmless. A rumor, a few whispers—something petty and fleeting that would blow over in a week. She had convinced herself it was just words, just noise, nothing that would stick. You'd get mad, maybe confront her, and she'd roll her eyes and shrug it off. You'd forgive her eventually. You always did.

But instead, she had lit a fire she couldn't control.

The rumor had spread like poison, twisting into something grotesque and unrecognizable. It wasn't just about Mr. Miller anymore. It was about everything they could find to tear you down. They'd taken her words and turned them into weapons, each one sharper than the last.

And you were the one left bleeding.

Cairo's chest tightened as guilt clawed at her throat. She had wanted you to feel small, to feel the sting of being wrong. But now, she realized what she had actually done. She hadn't just hurt you. She had handed you over to the wolves and stood back while they tore you apart.

And for what?

Why had she done it?

Because she was angry? Because she wanted to be right? Because it was easier to blame you than to admit that maybe, just maybe, she was the one in the wrong?

The truth hit her like a punch to the gut. She hadn't done it for any grand reason. She'd done it because she was selfish. Because she was scared. Because when you'd looked at her that day, challenging her, standing your ground, she'd felt small. And she hated feeling small.

But now, sitting there in the chaos she had created, Cairo felt smaller than ever.

Her hands trembled as she gripped the edge of the table, her knuckles white. She wanted to fix it. She wanted to take it all back, to rewind the clock to that day in the hallway, to the moment she'd let her anger get the better of her. But it was too late.

The damage was done.

Cairo's stomach churned as she thought of the look in your eyes, the way you had walked out of the cafeteria with your head held high, even as everything around you crumbled. You were stronger than she'd ever given you credit for. Stronger than her.

And yet, she had broken something between you that could never be repaired.

She had expected to feel triumphant, to feel vindicated. Instead, all she felt was hollow.

The laughter around her grew louder, grating against her skin, and she wanted to scream, to tell them all to shut up, to stop talking about you like you were some kind of joke. But she didn't. She couldn't.

Because this was her fault.

Cairo clenched her jaw, her nails biting into her palms as the guilt twisted deeper. She had pushed you too far, dragged you into something you hadn't deserved, all because she couldn't control herself. She had ruined you, and in doing so, she had ruined herself.

This wasn't what she had wanted.

And as she sat there, drowning in the weight of her own actions, Cairo realized something that terrified her more than anything else.

She didn't know how to stop it.

wired earphones | j.ortega

jenna ortega x fem!reader

masterlist

you tugged the dainty wire, sending it tumbling out of her ear with ease. you’d been calling her name ever since you’d caught sight of her sitting on the park bench, doodling in her little book she kept so furtively.

“hey!” she spoke in annoyance, whiny and high pitched, as you sat down next to her.

“hello to you, babe.” you handed her the coffee you’d brought on your way here and she accepted it, closing her book and stuffing it in her bag along with her pens.

“i’m not the one who was late.” she countered to your sarcasm, however enjoying the coffee you’d brought to her.

“i’m not the one who insisted i buy us coffee on my way here because you were too lazy to make the detour.” she rolled her eyes, her small smile contradicting the action.

“i need to get some wireless earphones.” she hugged, yet still happily sipping the coffee.

“but your wired ones are so cute.” there was a pause before she spoke, one that was not unusual, but unable to be labelled.

“they’re cute?” she raised her eyebrow, cute not having been a common adjective used to describe her.

“you know what i mean, it’s gives off the whole anti overconsumption thing.” she laughed, as you pulled your legs up and onto the bench, simultaneously shifting closer to her.

“that’s why they’re cute?” she raised her brows, still amused, while you pushed back a strand of her hair.

“you’re cute.” she chuckled and pecked your lips.

“i love you.” she grinned, and picked up the earbud that had fallen out, fiddling with it until she got it into your ear.

and even after you’d bought her a pair of wireless headphones, she insisted on wearing them around her neck, her wired ones resting, snug in her ears.

taglist: @ijustlovemaths @sweetcherriexs @jaxon-nathaniel-drake @st0nerlesb0 @taracarpsnter

@dollarbils taglist

comment which taglist you’d like to be featured on

-> billie eilish

@adinda-eilish @ijustlovemaths @sweetcherriexs @jaxon-nathaniel-drake @mybluebossanova @diceroll65 @tothediner @st0nerlesb0 @bilssturns @london-uhmye @bxllxebxtch @tan1shere @babybornbluenow @greenbttrflyy @asterisk-eyes @47lake @hopingforgoodblogs @jennaswifey

-> jenna ortega

@ijustlovemaths @sweetcherriexs @jaxon-nathaniel-drake @st0nerlesb0 @taracarpsnter @jennaswifey

i might not see your comment immediately but i’ll check regularly

focused | j.ortega

jenna ortega x fem!reader

context. your girlfriend’s been busy all day. all you’re craving is for her focus to be on you.

warnings. angst, smut, degrading words.

masterlist

she’d been glued to her laptop all day. consumed in this new script she’d received. of course you were excited for her, you’d seen the way her face lit up. but she’d been at it for hours, days.

“jenna, when are you going to give yourself a break, how long is this script?” she wasn’t fully listening, still engrossed by the letters on the white screen.

“hm?” she barely looked over at you, registering thad you’d said something, but nothing more.

“jenna please. i feel like i haven’t seen you in days even though we live together.” she seemed to have had picked up on your tone because this time she turned around, facing you.

“sorry, what did you say?” she asked you to repeat yourself for the second time.

“i miss you, love. it’s been ages since we’ve talked or spent time together.” she furrowed her brows in confusion.

“what do you mean? we see each other all day.” she chuckled, not taking the conversation seriously.

“i’m serious jenna, you’ve been glued to that screen for the past two days, i’ve barely heard your voice. it’s been keeping you up at night too.” instead of self reflecting, she went on the defensive immediately.

“that’s not true. i just really need to get this script looked over. i was told i could comment on anything id like to possibly get changed. do you understand how rare it is for an actor to get that opportunity?” she got up from the desk chair, waving her hands around as she yelled.

“no, of course i do. but that doesn’t mean you can’t at least take a break.” she rolled her eyes.

“i have taken breaks, it’s not my problem you’re so needy all the time.” the insult was misplaced and you felt embarrassed.

“i’m needy? jenna i haven’t had a conversation that’s lasted more than a minute in the last 48 hours. wanting more than that is not needy.” you couldn’t shake the feeling that had settled in, the fact that maybe you were too needy.

“oh my god, you’re so dramatic. just wait for me to finish and then i’m all yours.” her tone was condescending, and you soon found it ridiculous that you were fighting over this.

“it’s not only about me, you need a break too.” she didn’t seem to care.

“just give me five minutes.” you knew five minutes would turn into five hours but it didn’t matter anymore. and once five minutes had passed, you closed your eyes and drifted to sleep, no longer having the energy to fight her.

-

after some time, she came through the door, to find you sleeping. it’s not as if she’d wanted to upset you, but this script was really exciting to her. she hadn’t meant to ignore you.

“baby,” she shook you awake, not wanting to go to sleep without fixing this.

“jenna, i’m not in the mood.” she was slightly taken aback by your cold words.

“i’m sorry, sweetheart.” she sat upright on the bed, caressing your arm gently, coaxing you into forgiveness.

“please.” she repeated, and even without elaboration it was clear what she was asking for.

“okay.” you folded as the soft words left your lips. you pushed the covers back and let her take you in her arms. she kissed your forehead earning a sigh, as you relaxed in her warm embrace.

“what can i do to make it better?” she asked with genuine concern, however your response was a mischievous grin. she raised her eyebrows as she questioned the look you were giving her.

“i could use some head.” she laughed at your reply and kissing your smiling lips.

“i can arrange that.” she whispered in your ear, her hands burning the skin at your waist.

“my poor angel’s touch starved. tell me what you need, baby.” her voice was sick with power. she loved having you so desperately begging for her. although she did feel bad.

“fuck, jenna. i just need you to t-touch me.” her smile widened and she fumbled with your shorts, not planning on wasting any time with you.

“mm, can’t get off on your own huh? need my help.” she urged you to reply and when you didn’t she pulled your chin in order to face her.

“y-yeah, need you to help m-me.” her fingertips were brushing against your clothed clit, causing your words to break up in a stutter. she enjoyed how desperate you sounded beneath her touch, her words rendering you more and more flustered.

“so pathetic aren’t you.” her words were harsh because she knew it turned you on. you were nodding without realising what you were agreeing to, too focused on the filthy words leaving her mouth to ponder on their meaning. she chuckled into your neck, her warm tongue soothing the bruises she’d created.

“jen-jenna, please.” her hands pulled down your panties before she began to play with your wetness, spreading it around and earning choked whines from your throat.

“hm, who are you so wet for baby?” she teased but you didn’t have the strength to reply as she lowered her head between your thighs. her tongue laid flat against your clit, tasting your arousal while her fingers toyed with your entrance.

“f-fuck.” instinctively, your thighs shut around her head, making her hiss.

“open wide for me.” she instructed, looking up to see you fisting the sheets with your head thrown back. however when you had relaxed, you’d managed to comply with her request.

“that’s it.” she affirmed, her mouth latching onto your heat once again. you were soon returned to your previous state, your mouth an exit for all sorts of pornographic noises. you physically couldn’t keep quiet. and when you began grinding against her tongue, she groaned into you, the pleasure of devouring you finally expressed.

“oh my god, jenna please- please keep going.” she smirked into your pussy, flicking her tongue over your clit, and darting it in and out of your entrance. it felt so good. she was too good.

“fuck, jenna. so close, can i-i.” your eyes were shut as the pleasure built up, so close to your release.

“mhm.” she nodded, her face still buried in your arousal, bringing you to the edge and helping you ride it out once that chord has snapped. you felt yourself grow warm as the pleasure consumed you, clenching around her tongue. she came up to kiss you, her tongue sure to penetrate your lips so that you could taste yourself.

“am i forgiven?” she smiled and you couldn’t help shoving her playfully at the look she was giving you.

“yeah, i’d say so.”

i’ll trade you | c.sweet

cairo sweet x fem!reader

context. you ask a pretty girl for a cigarette, she asks for something in return.

warnings. smoking, tobacco usage, flirting.

masterlist

you debated going up to her, tapping her on the shoulder to ask for a cigarette. that was before she turned around, a cloud of smoke escaping her slightly reddened lips. she was fucking gorgeous. and it rendered her extremely intimidating. the craving however, wasn’t even slightly bearable when the familiar scent drifted to where you were standing.

“i genuinely hate to ask, but could i get a cigarette?” your heart was beating impossibly fast, as you planted your feet in front of the brunette. her eyebrows raised slightly before she scanned your body, and returned to stare you in the eyes.

“i’ll trade you.” she said simply, before bringing the cigarette back up to her lips. she didn’t bother elaborating, she wanted you to ask.

“what do you want?” you were hesitant in asking the question, not quite sure which way it would go.

“your number.” her lips pulled up to the side as she took another hit from her cigarette, the cool winter air accentuating the amount of smoke she exhaled.

“my phone number?” you were slightly taken aback. not only was she interested in girls, she was interested in you.

“no, i want your social security number in exchange for a cigarette.” she replied sarcastically, choked laughter as she spoke.

“sorry it just wasn’t expected, i thought you’d just say no and tell me to fuck off.” her smile widened as she reached for her bag, presumably to pull out her pack of cigarettes.

“i’m sorry, did you want me to?” she teased, now holding the pack in her hands as your eyes drifted towards it.

“no? of course not.” she raised an eyebrow as you made no move to give her your number.

“well? what’s it gonna be?” her finger tapped the pack in her hand as she took the last drag of her own cigarette before putting it out.

“wait you’re serious?” she chuckled at the question.

“dead serious. i saw you looking at me from your spot underneath the tree, so what are you waiting for?” she’d clocked you before you’d even come over.

“yeah i’ll put it into your phone.” you put your palm out in front of her as she placed her unlocked phone in your hand.

“great.” she opened her pack and pulled out a cigarette before closing it and returning it to her bag.

“thanks a ton.” she bit her lip before handing it to you. then she watched you walk away in search for your lighter before you stopped and realised you’d have to back and ask her for one.

“fuck i’m sorry, could i borrow a lighter?” she grinned before shuffling her hands inside her jacket pocket before they went still and she was grasping her lighted.

“i’ll trade you.” she repeated.

“this time it’s my social security number you want?” you joked and she laughed softly.

“guarantee that you’ll go out with me.” there was a hint of arrogance in her voice that you failed to miss, but nevertheless you found yourself agreeing.

“okay, i’ll go out with you..”

“cairo.” she finished for you.

“cairo, i’ll go out with you cairo.” you cupped your hands around the cigarette as she lit it for you.

“perfect, i’ll look forward to it.” she shoved the lighter in her pocket and walked away.

masterlist

•

-> billie eilish

masterlist

-> jenna ortega

masterlist

call me lia, lil, lilli, babe (i’m kidding it’s up to you idm)

requests are open, feel free to come chat :)

-> mature content ༄, lesbian content ⚢

my taglist is here

masterlist

〘 jenna ortega 〙

•

-> Jenna ortega

focused

context. your girlfriend’s been busy all day. all you’re craving is for her focus to be on you.

wired earphones

context. your girlfriend’s attachment to her wired headphones might have been the result of your words.

-> cairo sweet

i'll trade you

context. you ask a pretty girl for a cigarette, she asks for something in return.

REAL! I feel like it's all in my head, ready to use. Then all my knowledge of grammar, unique words and HOW TO WRITE goes out the window, and I'm left with a blank page

At this point, I don't even know why I'm still writing if I'm that bad at it

what we’ve been holding back

pairing: vada cavell & female reader

summary: for the first time, it’s just you, vada, and everything you’ve both been holding back.

warnings: smut (18+) oral (v receiving) fingering (r receiving) explicit sexual content.

author’s note: i hate this more than tongue can say but hope yall enjoy it anyway.

Vada never got the house to herself.

Not really, anyway. There was always someone around—her parents, of course, but more than anything, Amelia. Her little sister was like a permanent shadow, always appearing at the worst times, always needing something.

If she wasn't barging into Vada's room without knocking, she was hogging the TV remote or loudly FaceTiming her friends right outside Vada's door. And if she wasn’t being actively annoying, it was only because she was looking for new ways to be.

There were nights when Vada would be stretched out on the couch, half-asleep and watching some movie with you, only for Amelia to come crashing in, demanding to know exactly what you were watching before declaring it boring and switching the lights on. Then there were mornings when she'd blast music from the bathroom, knowing full well that Vada was still trying to sleep. Even on the rare occasions when she wasn't in the way, she was still there, existing in the background, always within earshot, ready to interrupt.

So when Vada found out that, for the first time in forever, she would actually have the house completely to herself, she barely knew what to do with the information at first. It didn't feel real.

It had started as a normal enough evening—her mom mentioning something about dinner plans as she moved around the kitchen, her dad chiming in with something about not waiting up. None of it really registered with Vada until her mom casually added that Amelia was already gone for the night, off at a sleepover.

That was what made Vada sit up.

The realization hit her all at once. No parents. No Amelia. No interruptions. Just her. Just you, if she got you to come over.

Excitement bubbled up fast, making her reach for her phone before she even fully processed what she was doing. She barely thought about what she was going to say—just that she had to tell you, and she had to tell you now.

The second you picked up, she was already talking, rushing through the words like she was afraid she'd lose the moment if she didn't get them out fast enough. You didn't even have time to say hello before she was telling you about the miraculous turn of events—how her parents had made last-minute plans, how Amelia was staying at a friend's house, how, for the first time in what felt like forever, she had the house to herself.

And more importantly, how that meant she had you to herself.

She barely gave you time to react before she was asking if you'd come over. It wasn't really a question—more of a demand disguised as one, her voice all hurried excitement as she told you to bring something nice to wear, even if she didn't know what for yet. She wanted tonight to be different, she told you. Not just another hangout, not just another "date" in name only, but something that actually felt like one.

Because most of the time, your "dates" weren't really dates at all. They were sitting on her bed watching bad movies while Amelia threw popcorn at you from the doorway. They were laying in the grass at the park, pretending the $3 slushies in your hands were expensive cocktails. They were long drives with no destination, no plan, just a vague hope that you'd end up somewhere interesting.

It wasn't that she minded. She loved that time with you—loved that it didn't take some grand gesture for you to want to be with her. But part of her still wished she could give you more than that.

She wished she could take you out somewhere nice, somewhere that didn't have sticky floors or fluorescent lights. She wished she could take you to a real restaurant, one with candlelit tables and expensive wine lists, where she could pull out your chair and hold your hand across the table without worrying about her little sister making gagging noises in the background.

But neither of you had the money for that, and even if you did, her parents were always home, Amelia was always home—there was always someone home. So your time together had to fit into the spaces left between.

Not tonight, though. Tonight was just yours.

So she'd cooked.

She wasn't a great cook—not even a good one, really—but she wanted to make something herself, something that at least resembled an actual date-night meal. Something better than the usual microwave dinners or takeout containers you two shared on her bed. So, she kept it simple: pasta. She figured it was hard to mess up, but even then, she still managed to overcook the noodles a little.

It wasn't fancy. It wasn't even that impressive. But it was hers.

And that had to count for something.

She'd even gone as far as lighting candles, the only ones she could find being the old, half-melted ones her mom kept under the sink. They smelled like vanilla and something vaguely floral, and the flames flickered unevenly, casting wobbly shadows across the table. It was probably stupid—it felt stupid. She could already hear Amelia's voice in her head, making fun of her for trying so hard.

And honestly, Vada would've made fun of herself too, a few months ago.

This was the kind of thing you two used to laugh at when you watched rom-coms together—how cheesy and soggy it all was, how ridiculous it was that anyone actually took the whole candlelit-dinner thing seriously.

But now? Now, she was starting to get it.

And that was enough to make her feel like maybe, just maybe, all of this wasn't as ridiculous as she thought.

Then the doorbell had rung.

Vada had barely had time to shake herself out of her thoughts before she had rushed to answer it, almost tripping over the corner of the rug in her hurry. She had stopped just short of yanking the door open too fast—because cool, she had needed to be cool—but all her effort at playing it smooth had gone straight out the window the second she had seen you.

You had stood there on her front porch, bathed in the dim glow of the porchlight, a bottle of wine in your hand. You had lifted it slightly, eyebrows raising as you had teased, "Thought this could make our very serious, very fancy dinner even fancier."

Vada had huffed out a laugh, eyes flicking from the bottle back to your face. Your face. Soft in the low light, lips curved in that easy way that had always made her heart trip over itself. The way your hair had framed your face, the way your eyes had flickered with amusement, the way you had looked at her—it had all been enough to make her forget her own name for a second.

She had recovered just enough to snatch the bottle from your grip, fingers brushing against yours for half a second longer than necessary. "You stole this, didn't you?"

You had grinned, tilting your head. "Define 'stole.'"

Vada had rolled her eyes but had still taken a step back, letting you in. And the second you had crossed the threshold, setting your hands on her waist, any and all of her previous self-consciousness had melted away.

You had kissed her before she could make some smartass remark, before she could even think about saying something stupid. It had been soft—slow, even—but warm in a way that had settled deep into her bones, making her feel weightless and anchored all at once.

And God, she had been able to taste the trouble on your lips already.

When you had pulled back, she had barely had a second to process before you had been taking in the dining setup behind her, eyes flicking over the candles, the plates, the pasta. Your smile had stretched a little wider, amusement clear in your gaze as you had turned back to her. "You really went all out, huh?"

She had felt her face heat, but she had just shrugged, trying to downplay it. "You're welcome."

You had hummed, clearly unimpressed by her attempt at being casual. Then, tilting your head, you had smirked. "So... which cooking tutorial did you follow?"

Vada had groaned, tipping her head back dramatically. "I hate you so much."

You had just laughed, nudging your shoulder against hers before stepping further into the house. And even as you had poked fun at her, even as you had made some offhanded comment about how the noodles had looked a little overcooked, she had been able to tell—you had liked it.

You had liked this.

Dinner itself had been a blur of easy conversation and laughter, of stolen bites and exaggerated reactions to how terrible her cooking had been. It hadn't been fancy. It hadn't been perfect. But it had been something.

You had liked this.

Vada had been able to tell by the way your smile had lingered as you ate, how you had stretched your legs out beneath the table, nudging your foot against hers like it was second nature. And maybe it had been. Maybe it had always been this easy for you—to just exist like this, to fit into every space you were given and make it your own.

She hadn't been able to take her eyes off of you.

Not while you had spoken, hands moving as if they could shape your words in the air. Not while you had twirled your fork through the pasta, the candlelight catching on the rim of your glass as you had lifted it to your lips. And definitely not when you had picked up the wine bottle, turning it between your fingers before tilting your chin up slightly.

"Some more wine, ma'am?" you had asked, your voice lilting in a way that had made her groan.

Vada hadn't even bothered to respond, just shaking her head as you had poured more into her glass anyway.

And now, even with the food long gone and the plates abandoned in the kitchen, she still couldn't take her eyes off of you.

The movie playing on the TV was one she had seen a hundred times, something you had both agreed on without really thinking about it, but she wasn't paying attention. Not to that, at least.

Because the way you were curled up against her, legs tucked over hers, fingers tracing lazy patterns against the back of her hand—that was more interesting than anything on the screen.

The movie had been playing for a while, the glow from the screen flickering across your face, catching in your eyes as you stared at it. Vada was supposed to be watching too, but her focus had started to slip long ago.

She had barely touched her glass of wine, her fingers curled loosely around the stem, more preoccupied with the way you had sunk further into her side, your body relaxed against hers. Every so often, you would shift slightly—reaching for more wine, adjusting your position, stretching out more against her. And every single time, she had to fight the urge to look down, to get distracted all over again.

She only snapped back to reality when you suddenly let out a breath, shaking your head a little before speaking.

"Okay, but why do people pretend this is the best movie ever? Like, it's fine, but it's not that good."

Vada had hummed in vague agreement, even though she had no idea what part you were talking about.

But then, a moment later, you turned your head toward her. Your brows furrowed slightly, like you were studying her, before your lips quirked up in a knowing smile.

"Are you even watching?"

She had barely caught herself in time, blinking and shifting her focus back toward the screen like she hadn't just been completely lost in staring at you.

"No, I am," she had said quickly, smiling through the lie.

And then she had forced herself to look back at the screen, even though it took everything in her not to glance at you again.

Vada had tried—really tried—to keep her eyes on the screen. But it was impossible when you were sitting right there, barely a breath away, looking the way you did.

Maybe it was the wine. You hadn't had much, just enough to feel the edges of everything blur, to make the warmth in her chest settle a little deeper. But still, it was enough to make her wonder if that was why she couldn't seem to look away from you. If it was the reason why, for the past ten minutes, she hadn't absorbed a single thing from the movie playing in front of her.

The glow from the TV flickered over your skin, soft and golden, mixing with the dim light from the streetlamp outside that slipped in through the window. It caught in your hair, traced over the curve of your cheek, reflected in your eyes when you blinked. You weren't even doing anything—you were just watching the movie, completely unaware of the way Vada was looking at you.

But she was looking.

And she couldn't stop.

Her gaze drifted over every little detail of your face—the faintest crease between your brows when you concentrated, the slight part of your lips when something caught your attention, the way your lashes brushed against your skin when you blinked. She felt your fingers move absentmindedly over the back of her hand, tracing slow, barely-there patterns against her skin, and the way it made her stomach tighten was almost embarrassing.

It was all so effortless. So you.

And she couldn't believe she got to have this. That she got to sit here in this moment, surrounded by nothing but the warmth of the house and the flickering light of the candles she had been embarrassed to set up, and just watch you.

She should have looked away.

She didn't.

And of course, you noticed.

You let out a quiet, breathy chuckle before turning toward her, amused. "What?"

Vada felt her stomach twist, her face warming under your gaze. She hesitated, just for a second, before letting out a soft breath.

"You're beautiful."

The way you blinked, like you hadn't expected her to say that, made her heart lurch in her chest. And then you smiled—really smiled—something small and teasing but still so genuine. Your fingers slowed against her hand, resting there, your touch lingering.

Vada's gaze flickered down before she could stop it.

Your lips.

She felt something settle low in her stomach, spreading through her chest, making her breath come just a little shorter. She didn't even think before she spoke again, voice quieter this time, rougher, like the words were forming before she had the chance to second-guess them.

"And I want to kiss you."

You tilted your head slightly, your smile deepening at the edges, the teasing glint in your eyes making her pulse quicken.

"Is that so?”

You didn't pull away.

Instead, you shifted, leaning in just a little, just enough that your knees brushed against hers, your fingers tightening slightly over the back of her hand.

And God, she must have looked ridiculous. Because she could feel it—could feel the way her lips parted slightly, could feel the way her eyes were stuck on your mouth, could feel the way she must have looked at you, like she was desperate, like she was starving.

She barely managed to nod.

And then you leaned in, closing the space between you.

Your lips met hers, soft and warm and slow, and for a second, Vada forgot how to breathe.

The kiss started slow, soft, just like it always did. But it never stayed that way for long.

Because Vada loved kissing you.

You had made out more times than either of you could count—on her bed, on your bed, in the backseat of your car, pressed up against the wall by your front door when neither of you wanted to say goodbye. It was something she would never get tired of, the feeling of your lips against hers, the way your hands always found their way to her waist, the way your fingers would tangle in her hair when you got impatient. She loved all of it.

But this? This felt different.

Hotter.

The kind of different that made her ache.

Your fingers curled at the hem of her shirt, not pushing, not pulling, just holding. She felt the way your touch lingered there, like you were thinking about doing something with it. And God, she wanted you to. But she didn't have time to dwell on it before your lips parted against hers, before your tongue flicked against hers, slow and teasing and just enough to make her stomach twist.

Vada let out a quiet hum, barely even a sound, before her hands found their way to your face, fingers brushing over the heat of your skin, thumbs smoothing over your jaw as she deepened the kiss.

It still wasn't enough.

So, without even thinking, she shifted.

Her hands slipped down to your shoulders, pressing against them lightly for balance as she adjusted her position, swinging a leg over your lap. Her knee sank into the couch next to your hip, then the other, her weight settling over you as she straddled you properly.

And still, her lips never left yours.

She felt the way you reacted instantly—the way your hands gripped her waist a little tighter, the way your fingers curled slightly into the fabric of her shirt, the way your breath hitched, barely noticeable, but she noticed.

Of course she did.

Because she noticed everything when it came to you.

It deepened fast, all sense of restraint unraveling the second Vada settled on top of you.

And maybe it was the wine, or maybe it was just you—the way you felt underneath her, the way your hands kept fidgeting, like you couldn't figure out where to hold her. Whatever it was, it had something twisting tight in her stomach, making her push closer, kiss harder, until she wasn't even sure if she was kissing you anymore or just trying to devour you whole.

She barely realized what she was doing—how desperate, how messy she had gotten—until she felt you chuckle against her lips. And God, that should have slowed her down, should have made her think, but instead, it only made her worse. Because the second you smiled, the second you mumbled something about her being so needy, Vada groaned against your mouth and kissed you even harder, hands threading into your hair to keep you right there.

And your hands?

God, your hands.

They moved constantly, like you couldn't decide where you wanted them most. First, your fingers tangled in her hair, threading through the strands, tugging just enough to make her whimper. Then they slid lower, pressing against the thin fabric of her shirt as they smoothed down her back. And then—fuck—then they landed on her ass, barely a pause before your fingers squeezed, firm and possessive, making heat shoot straight through her.

Vada gasped against your lips, the sound half a moan, and she swore she felt you smirk.

But just as quickly as your hands had gotten there, they moved again, fingers skimming up over the curve of her hips, finally settling there, thumbs pressing lightly into her skin through the fabric.

And then—oh God, then—you guided her.

The touch was loose, barely even forceful, but she felt it. The way your fingers flexed, the way your grip tightened just enough to encourage her to move. And before she even thought about what she was doing, her body responded.

Her hips rocked against yours, slow and experimental, sending a sharp, warm shiver straight up her spine.

Oh.

Oh.

This was new.

Your hands had wandered before, gotten a little bold when you made out, but this? This had never happened before. And the realization, the fact that you were doing this, that you wanted her to do this, sent a rush of excitement straight through her, making her stomach flip.

So she did it again.

And again.

Each movement growing a little more confident, a little more sure, until she didn't even have to think about it anymore. Until her hands were gripping your shoulders just to keep her balance, until she was pressing herself against you exactly the way she wanted to, the way you were leading her to.

And Vada had never been more excited in her life.

Because she had noticed.

The second she opened the door and saw you standing there, she had noticed. The black off-shoulder top clinging to you, the delicate curve of your collarbone on display, the way the fabric settled so perfectly against your skin. And she hadn't thought much of it at first, just that you looked really fucking good. But then, when you leaned over the table to pour more wine, when the neckline of your top shifted just slightly, the realization hit her—

You weren't wearing a bra.

And now, as she pressed against you, her hands skimming over the soft fabric of your shirt, the thought was making her dizzy.

She wanted to see you.

Her fingers curled at the hem of your shirt, and she hesitated for only a second before pulling away just enough to look at you. You understood immediately, a slow smile playing at your lips as you raised your arms, giving her permission, encouragement, and—fuck—Vada could barely breathe as she pushed the fabric up, over your ribs, over your chest, finally tugging it over your head and tossing it somewhere.

She didn't care where it landed.

Because—

Oh.

Oh.

She froze.

Her hands, still mid-motion from discarding your shirt, stilled. Her breath caught somewhere between her chest and her throat, and her brain completely short-circuited.

She was fucking gone.

She had imagined this before—of course she had, she was only human—but nothing, nothing, compared to the reality of it. The way the candlelight flickered over your bare skin, painting you in soft golds and shadows, the way the warm glow from the TV barely illuminated the curves of your chest, making them look almost unreal.

God.

Vada just stared, mouth slightly open, eyes wide with something between disbelief and absolute, stunned awe.

She wanted to touch. Wanted to feel.

But all she could do was look, completely mesmerized, completely wrecked, because holy shit.

Vada barely realized the word had left her mouth until she heard it. "Wow."

It wasn't intentional—just something that slipped out, breathless, awed, like her brain hadn't caught up with her mouth.

She hovered her hands over you, close enough to feel the warmth of your skin but not quite touching. She wasn't sure why she was hesitating. Maybe because she didn't want to ruin the moment, or maybe because she didn't know if she could handle it.

But you didn't seem embarrassed.

Didn't shift under her gaze, didn't cross your arms over yourself or make any move to cover up. You only smirked, a soft, amused chuckle slipping past your lips, and somehow, somehow, that made everything even sexier.

Vada swallowed hard.

And then, finally, finally, she touched you.

Her hands settled on your breasts, hesitant at first, just feeling, getting used to the weight of them in her palms. Her thumbs brushed over your nipples, and when she felt them harden beneath her touch, something in her snapped.

She grew bolder, kneading them more firmly, watching your expression shift as your lips parted just slightly, as your breath hitched.

God, she loved this. Loved how soft you felt, how warm, how responsive.

Then she leaned in, capturing your lips again without stopping her movements, her hands still exploring, still touching. She felt the way you sighed into her mouth, how your fingers slid into her hair, tugging her closer, deepening the kiss.

But it wasn't enough.

Vada needed more.

So she let her hands drift down, gripping your waist as she shifted lower, trailing her lips from your mouth to your jaw, then lower still, pressing open-mouthed kisses along the side of your neck.

And then she kept going.

She slid down your body, slowly, adjusting herself as she moved lower, her knees sinking further into the couch cushions, her body stretching out across yours so she could reach. Her lips trailed past your collarbone, over the slope of your shoulder, and then—

Lower.

Her mouth hovered over your chest now, and she hesitated for just a second, looking up at you.

Your head had tilted back against the couch, your eyes fluttering shut, your lips parted just slightly as the softest moan slipped out.

And fuck, that was all she needed.

Vada pressed soft, lingering kisses along the curves of your breasts, giving them both equal attention, her lips parting slightly to suck at the delicate skin. She took her time, savoring the way you reacted, the way your body tensed and relaxed beneath her touch.

And when her tongue flicked over your nipple, circling it in slow, deliberate motions, she swore she felt the way your breath caught.

It should have felt new. It was new. She had never done this before, never been in this position with anyone. But somehow, it didn't feel unfamiliar.

It was like second nature, like her body knew exactly what to do without her having to think about it.

Maybe it was because she'd watched people do this before—had spent more time than she'd ever admit scrolling through videos, studying the way hands moved, the way mouths teased, the way lips wrapped around sensitive skin just like hers were doing now.

Or maybe it was just you.

Maybe it was the way you made everything feel so easy, so natural, like she was supposed to be here, like she was supposed to be doing this.

Your hands found their way into her hair, fingers threading through the strands, gripping just enough to make her feel it, to make her shiver.

And then—

"Fuck, Vada."

Hearing you say her name like that, breathless, desperate—God, it wrecked her.

Vada barely had time to process the effect it had on her before she felt your hands on her sides, fingertips pressing lightly, almost hesitantly, before they trailed up. The warmth of your touch sent a shiver through her, and when your fingers slipped under the hem of her hoodie, she swore her heart skipped a beat.

You didn't need to say anything. The way your hands lingered there, the way your thumbs brushed over the bare skin just above her waistband—it was enough. And she wanted it too.

She hesitated for just a second, her breath catching in her throat, before she pulled away just enough to reach for the fabric herself. In one smooth motion, she lifted the hoodie over her head, her hair falling messily around her shoulders as she tossed it somewhere—she didn't know, didn't care. Not when your hands were already reaching again, already touching her.

You started slow, fingertips grazing her shoulders, sliding under the straps of her bra. The touch was light, teasing, and yet it set every nerve in her body on fire.

She felt your fingers pause at the clasp.

Her breath hitched.

And then, slowly, so slowly, you worked it open.

The straps slipped down her arms, the fabric falling away, and then it was gone.

Vada wasn't sure what she expected—if she expected anything—but when she finally gathered the courage to meet your gaze, what she saw made her feel like her whole body had just been set ablaze.

You were staring.

Not just looking. Not just seeing. You were taking her in, eyes dark and hungry as you admired every inch of her.

Vada had never been in this position before—half-naked in someone's lap, completely exposed—but somehow, she didn't feel nervous. She should have, maybe. But the way you were looking at her... it was like you wanted her, like you needed her, like this moment had been building up for so long that neither of you could hold back anymore.

And when your hands found their way to her waist, gripping just a little tighter than before, pulling her back in like you had to, like you couldn't stand even a second apart—she swore she could have melted.

You pulled her back in, your lips meeting hers again, slow at first—like you were savoring her, like you wanted to take your time. Your hands traced gentle paths along her waist, your fingers spreading out over her bare skin, warm and steady, grounding her in a way that made her dizzy.

Vada let herself sink into it, let herself melt against you, let herself feel everything. The softness of your lips, the way your breath mixed with hers, the way her whole body felt like it was burning from just this.

And then, between kisses, your voice came, soft but certain, against her lips.

"You're beautiful."

It was so simple, yet it sent a rush through her that she hadn't expected.

She hadn't realized she needed to hear it—not until you said it.

A smile pulled at her lips, small at first, then wider as she let her forehead rest against yours for just a second, breathing you in. She knew she was beautiful, she'd been told before—but hearing it here, Now, from you? With your hands on her, your lips brushing against hers, your gaze still lingering like you meant it?

She didn't feel shy anymore.

She pressed another kiss to your lips, slower, deeper.

"I can't believe we're doing this," she murmured against your mouth, the words slipping out before she even realized she was saying them. But she didn't regret them. Because she couldn't believe it. Couldn't believe that after all the teasing, all the stolen kisses, all the almosts—this was happening.

And God, she never wanted to stop.

Vada pulled back just enough to look at you, her breath warm against your lips, her eyes dark and heavy-lidded with something deeper than just desire. It was hunger—real, undeniable hunger—but beneath that, something softer, something nervous. Not because she didn't want this, but because she did—so much that it made her hands tremble slightly as they brushed over your bare sides.

Her gaze flickered over your face, searching, memorizing, as if she were trying to commit every second to memory. Because this was happening. Finally.

She swallowed hard, blinking down at you before her lips twitched into the smallest, almost shy smile. And then, she kissed you again—deeper, slower, savoring it. But it wasn't just that. It was purposeful. Like she had already made up her mind about something.

You felt it when she shifted, her hands smoothing over your sides, then lower, gripping your hips as she carefully slid back, slipping off of your lap and sinking to the floor between your legs.

Your breath hitched.

She kissed her way down as she moved, lingering at your jaw, your collarbone, your chest—her lips pressing reverent, open-mouthed kisses to the soft skin there. Then lower, down your stomach, her nose brushing against your skin, her breath warm, making you shiver as she went.

And then she stopped. Right at the waistband of your jeans.

Her fingers hovered there for a second, hesitating, before she glanced up at you.

Her lips were slightly parted, her pupils blown wide, and yet—her eyes searched yours, questioning, asking without words. She wasn't unsure about what she wanted, but she needed you to tell her. To say it.

You held her gaze, your chest rising and falling a little too fast, your skin still tingling from the way she had kissed her way down your body.

Then, finally, you nodded. And when you spoke, your voice was barely above a whisper—soft, but certain.

"Please."

That was all it took.

Vada let out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding, and then—her fingers moved. The button of your jeans came undone, the zipper following soon after, and then—she was tugging them down, her hands warm, her touch careful but eager, as she pulled them off of you.

With your jeans gone, the only thing left on you was your underwear, a thin barrier between you and her. And Vada—she just stared.

Her breath was uneven as she reached for them, her fingers hesitating against the waistband, her nerves flickering back to life despite the overwhelming heat between you. But it wasn't uncertainty. It was something deeper.

Because this was it.

She was really about to see you. All of you.

Her lips parted slightly, her eyes flicking up to meet yours again, searching, almost like she was waiting for permission all over again. And you—God, you looked so good like this, half-naked on the couch, skin flushed, chest rising and falling just a little quicker than before. You weren't hesitant.

You weren't second-guessing anything. If anything, the way your lips curled into a soft, expectant smile—the way you lifted your hips slightly, giving her silent permission—only made Vada's heart hammer even harder against her ribs.

So she tugged them down.

Slowly. Carefully.

And then she saw it.

Her breath hitched, her fingers freezing against your thighs as she took you in.

Fuck.

She didn't know what she was expecting. It wasn't like she hadn't thought about this before, wasn't like she hadn't imagined it in the back of her mind on nights when she was alone, when the teasing had been too much, when she could still feel the ghost of your hands on her skin.

But seeing you—like this, bare and spread out before her—was something else entirely.

Her throat bobbed as she swallowed hard, her wide, dark eyes flickering between your thighs, drinking in every detail, her hands still resting against the tops of them. She could feel the heat radiating from you, could see how wet you were, and it sent a dizzying rush straight through her.

God.

She almost laughed—half out of disbelief, half because she suddenly felt so overwhelmed, like her brain was short-circuiting, like she was having a hard time processing just how fucking gorgeous you were.

But all that slipped past her lips was a soft, breathless—

"Wow."

Her voice was barely above a whisper, filled with something almost reverent, almost awestruck.

You let out a quiet chuckle, your head tilting slightly, watching her, waiting for her to do something, say something more. But you didn't look embarrassed. You didn't try to shy away or cover yourself, didn't shift under her gaze like you were self-conscious about the way she was staring.

And that only made this even hotter.

Vada hovered her hands over your thighs, fingers twitching, like she wanted to touch you but wasn't sure if she was allowed to yet.

You reached down, running your fingers through her hair, tugging her closer, a silent encouragement. And when she finally touched you, sliding her hands up your legs, gripping your thighs and spreading them just a little wider—she swore she felt herself ache with need.

Because fuck—she wanted you.

All of you.

And now she was finally about to have you.

But just before she dove in, she looked up at you again, her lips slightly parted, brows furrowing as if she was only now realizing what she was about to do.

"Should I...? Do you want me to—"

The nervous energy crackled in her voice, a sharp contrast to the hunger in her eyes, and God, it would've been adorable if you weren't already aching for her.

You cut her off, your fingers still tangled in her hair, tugging just enough to get her attention.

"Vada, baby, please."

That was all she needed to hear.

"Right."

And then she did it.

She started slow. Tentative. Like she was testing the waters, figuring out what made you gasp, what made your fingers tighten in her hair. But she wasn't unsure. Far from it. She licked a slow stripe up your center, tasting you for the first time, and Jesus Christ, she nearly moaned.

You were so wet.

For her.

Her hands flexed against your thighs, gripping them as she let herself sink deeper into it, flattening her tongue, pressing in closer, wanting more.

And the sounds—God, the sounds you made.

The quiet gasps, the breathy little moans that slipped past your lips, the way you exhaled her name, voice shaky and wrecked—fuck.

She had never done this before. But somehow, she knew exactly what to do.

Maybe it was instinct. Maybe it was the way you reacted to her—your body arching, your breath hitching, the way your thighs tensed when she flicked her tongue just right. Or maybe it was the fact that she had definitely watched people do this before, studied the way they moved, imagined what it would be like.

Either way, she wasn't stopping.

Not when she had you like this—breathless, desperate, falling apart under her tongue.

And God, she loved this.

So she should've felt confident. The way you gasped, the way your body tensed, the way your fingers tangled in her hair, pulling her closer—it all should've been enough to tell her she was doing this right.

But still, she couldn't help the doubt creeping in, the slight hesitation in her movements as she pulled back just enough to look up at you.

"Does it feel good?" Her voice was soft, uncertain, lips glistening as she spoke.

You barely managed to open your eyes, your head still tipped back against the couch, breath coming in short, uneven pants. And God, Vada loved how wrecked you already looked.

Your fingers twitched in her hair, tightening just a little. Keeping her there.

"Mhm." You nodded, voice barely above a whisper. "Baby, it's great."

That should've been enough for her.

But she still watched you, eyes flickering between your face and the way your chest rose and fell, like she was waiting for more.

And you could feel it—the slight hesitation, the way she was still holding back. Still unsure.

So you tugged her in closer, your voice coming out rushed, almost pleading.

"Please, continue."

And fuck, that flipped something in her.

Any hesitation she had before—gone.

She dove back in with renewed hunger, her hands gripping your thighs tighter as she flattened her tongue, moving with more confidence this time. More intent.

And when she felt your fingers tighten in her hair again, pushing her down just the slightest bit, guiding her to exactly where you needed her most—God, she nearly groaned against you.

Because that told her everything she needed to know.

You wanted more.

And she was more than happy to give it to you.

Vada never considered herself patient, but she took her time now—partly because she wanted to savor this, and partly because she was still figuring it out. But she knew one thing for certain: she wanted this. Wanted you. And judging by the way your body tensed beneath her, the way your breath hitched every time she moved, she was doing something right.

Her hands gripped your thighs, thumbs tracing slow circles against your skin, grounding herself as she let her mouth explore. She started off careful, tentative, trying to gauge your reactions. But the second she heard your sharp inhale, the quiet, breathy "Oh—" that slipped out before you could stop it, something in her ignited.

She pressed in deeper, her movements growing more confident, more eager, and she felt the way you responded instantly. Your fingers curled into her hair, not pulling, just holding, tugging her closer. And fuck, that did something to her. The idea that you wanted her right there, wanted more of her.

And God, she wanted to give you everything.

Your head tipped back against the couch, a shaky breath escaping as you murmured, "Oh yeah, that's good." Your voice was unsteady, like you were barely able to get the words out, and that was all the encouragement Vada needed.

Her grip on your thighs tightened, holding you still as she settled into a rhythm, pushing past her nerves, following nothing but instinct now. The more she gave, the more she wanted—you were warm, soft, intoxicating beneath her, and hearing those quiet sounds fall from your lips only made her more determined.

She could feel your breath coming quicker, the rise and fall of your chest growing uneven, and when your fingers in her hair tightened—really tightened—she felt another rush of pride surge through her.

And when she heard you whimper her name, that was it.

Vada swore she could've stayed like this forever.

But it was clear you couldn't.

The way your thighs started to tremble, the way your breath hitched on every exhale, coming out in these ragged little gasps—it told her everything. You were unraveling, slipping closer and closer to the edge, and fuck, she could feel it. The heat of you, the way your body arched into her touch, desperate, pleading without words.

And then there was the way your hands had tightened in her hair, no longer just holding but gripping, like you were keeping yourself grounded. Like the pleasure was so overwhelming you needed something—someone—to hold onto. The realization made something deep inside her clench, a rush of pride, excitement, maybe even disbelief washing over her all at once.

She was the one making you feel this good.

She was the one drawing out these breathy little moans, these broken gasps, the soft, helpless whimpers that sent a shiver down her spine.

You rocked against her, chasing the feeling, chasing more, and she let you, gripping your thighs as she worked her tongue in slow, deliberate motions.

Vada never wanted to stop.

But then your hips stuttered—just slightly, just enough for her to notice. Your breath hitched sharply, and the hand buried in her hair tugged before you let out a shaky, "Fuck, I'm close."

Your voice, wrecked and desperate, sent a bolt of heat straight through her, but she didn't dare slow down. Instead, she gripped your thighs, keeping you in place, letting herself sink even deeper into the moment.

You needed this.

And God, she needed it too.

Vada didn't let up.

If anything, hearing you say that only spurred her on. She flattened her tongue against you, dragging it slowly before flicking the tip against your most sensitive spot. She could feel the way your body reacted, the way your thighs tensed beneath her palms, your hips jerking up ever so slightly like you couldn't help it.

She did it again—slow, teasing, before switching back to those quick, precise flicks, alternating between the two until she felt you start to tremble. The way you whimpered, the way your fingers tightened in her hair, almost pulling her closer, told her you needed more, needed her to keep going just like this.

So she did.

She wrapped her lips around you, sucking gently, adding just the slightest pressure as her tongue moved against you in tight, perfect circles. You let out this soft, strangled moan, your thighs twitching against her, and fuck, that sound—Vada swore she could feel it, deep in her chest, in her stomach, everywhere.

She didn't know how she was doing this so well, didn't know how she knew exactly what you needed—but she wasn't questioning it. Not when you sounded like this.

And then you broke.

Your body tensed, thighs clamping around Vada's head as a sharp, breathless moan escaped you. Your fingers tightened in her hair, pulling just enough to make her whimper against you, but she didn't stop—not yet. She kept her tongue moving, guiding you through it, slow and deliberate, savoring every second as you came undone beneath her.

She could feel it—the way your stomach clenched, the way your hips stuttered before finally stilling, the way your breath came in short, uneven gasps. She didn't stop until she felt you physically twitch from the sensitivity, until you exhaled a shaky, "Vada—" that sounded so sweet, so wrecked, that she had to listen.

Only then did she finally pull away, lips glistening, pupils blown wide as she looked up at you. And God, she had never seen anything more beautiful.

You were still trying to catch your breath, chest rising and falling unevenly, body still warm and buzzing from the aftermath. Your head was tilted back against the couch, lips slightly parted, eyes half-lidded as you blinked down at her. You looked completely wrecked in the best way, and Vada could not stop staring.

She stayed between your legs, grinning softly, her own breath still uneven. There was something so intoxicating about seeing you like this, knowing she had been the one to get you there. It made her stomach twist in the best way.

After a moment, she tilted her head, eyes flickering up to yours, and asked, almost shyly, "Was that good?"

You let out a breathy chuckle, still dazed. "Amazing, baby."

And God, Vada swore she could've melted.

But then you spoke.

"My turn."

Vada's grin faltered for just a second at your words, her breath hitching as realization settled in. Your turn.

You had finally caught your breath, but she lost hers.

She stayed between your legs for a moment longer, her hands resting on your thighs, but now there was a shift—something in the air that made her shiver. You reached for her, fingers curling around her wrist as you guided her up, and she followed without hesitation.

You kissed her again, slow and deep, before gently maneuvering her until she was straddling your thigh, her knees pressing into the couch on either side of you. She was already breathing heavier, already so affected by just the idea of what was coming next.

Her hands found your shoulders for balance, and you smoothed yours down her sides, over the curve of her waist, before sliding them lower. Your voice was soft, but certain—confident—when you said, "I want to make you feel good too."

And just like that, Vada felt like she could combust.

Your hands dipped lower, fingers working at the button of her jeans. It wasn't the easiest thing to do with the way she was straddling you, but you didn't seem to mind the challenge. Neither did she. If anything, it made her pulse race faster.

She bit her lip as you popped the button open, then dragged the zipper down. But when you tried to push them down her hips, the angle made it impossible. She huffed a soft laugh, already desperate to get them off.

"I should probably—" she mumbled, already moving before she could finish the thought.

You let her go, watching as she stood, hurriedly shoving her jeans down her legs. They pooled at her ankles, and she kicked them off, nearly stumbling in her rush. A breathless giggle escaped her lips as she caught her balance.

Her hands were already at the waistband of her underwear, but before she could do it herself, you reached forward, hooking your fingers there.

"Let me."

She swallowed hard, nodding, letting you pull them down in one slow, smooth motion.

And now she was bare for you. Just as you had been for her.

She was already moving back toward you before she even thought about it, climbing into your lap again, her breathing uneven as she settled against you—closer than before, warmer than before.

And God, she needed you.

The moment she settled back onto your lap, you pulled her in for a kiss—deep, slow, intoxicating. Your tongue brushed against hers, and she whimpered softly into your mouth, her hands gripping your shoulders for stability.

Your hands didn't stay still for long. They traced their way up her sides, fingertips ghosting over her waist, her stomach—warm, soft, nervous. She shivered under your touch, but she didn't pull away. If anything, she pressed in closer.

And then your hands cupped her breasts.

Her breath hitched—sharp, surprised, new. No one had ever touched her like this before. Not anyone else. Not even close. The only hands that had ever roamed this part of her body were her own, and this was so different. This was you.

Her lips parted against yours, a soft, shuddering exhale slipping free.

You parted from the kiss, your breath mingling with hers as your hands settled on her hips, thumbs smoothing over her warm skin. Your eyes met hers—dark, wanting, hungry, but underneath it all, there was something else. Something softer.

Love.

And then, in one fluid motion, you shifted, guiding her onto her back against the couch, your body hovering over hers. Her breath hitched again, eyes wide for only a second before a grin tugged at her lips—God, she loved this. She loved you.

Her legs instinctively wrapped around your waist, pulling you in as her hands slid up your arms. But when your hand moved down between her legs, she shuddered, her grip faltering as her thighs loosened slightly around you, just enough to give you the access you wanted.

Your fingers trailed down, brushing over the heat of her, feeling how warm, how wet she was for you. The slightest touch had Vada sucking in a breath, her stomach tensing as her hips shifted instinctively toward you. Her eyes fluttered shut for a second, like she was trying to process it, to hold onto the feeling, but she forced them back open, locking onto yours. She needed to see you. Needed to watch you.

You kept your touch light, teasing, dragging your fingertips along her inner thigh before moving back to where she was desperate for you. Her body reacted instantly—another sharp breath, the way her fingers dug into your arms, holding on like she needed something to ground herself. And maybe she did.

"Is this okay?" you murmured, your voice softer than ever, filled with nothing but care. The way you looked at her, the way you asked—like she was something delicate, something that mattered more than anything else in the world—it made her dizzy.

Vada swore she could've come just from that. Just from you.

She tried to answer, but her throat felt too tight, the words tangled somewhere inside her. So she just nodded, quick, almost frantic, because yes, yes, she wanted this, needed this.

And then you pushed in.

Two fingers, slow but certain, sinking into her with ease. The air left her lungs in a sharp, broken gasp, her head tipping back against the pillow as a sound she'd never made before slipped out of her mouth. Her body clenched around you, hot and tight, and she couldn't think, couldn't breathe, couldn't do anything but feel.

Couldn't do anything but feel.

Your fingers moved with purpose, slow at first, letting her adjust, letting her take it all in. The way you filled her, the way your touch sent warmth spiraling through her body—it was overwhelming, almost too much, but she didn't want it to stop.

A sharp, breathless sound escaped her as you curled your fingers, pressing against something deep inside her that made her entire body jolt. Her hands clutched at your arms, her nails digging into your skin, as she let out something between a gasp and a moan.

Your face was so close to hers, your breath ghosting over her lips, hot and unsteady. She could feel you, all of you—your hands, your mouth, the way your body pressed into hers, keeping her grounded even as everything inside her felt like it was unraveling.

Her mouth fell open, but no words came, only the broken sounds of pleasure slipping past her lips. It was nothing like she imagined—no idle fantasy could have prepared her for the way you touched her, the way you knew exactly what she needed.

You whispered something to her, voice low and soothing, and she barely processed the words. All she knew was that she wanted more. That she never wanted this moment to end.

A shuddering breath left her lips before she could stop it, her whole body tightening as your fingers pressed deeper. "Fuck." The word slipped out before she even realized she was saying it, half-whispered, half-moan, raw with desperation.

She didn't know what to grab. Her hands twitched, searching for something, anything to hold onto, but the couch beneath her wasn't enough. Her fingers curled into the fabric, gripping tight, but it didn't ground her—it only made her more aware of how good this felt.

Her hips moved instinctively, chasing the pressure, grinding against your fingers as heat curled low in her stomach. It was intoxicating, the way you touched her, the way you watched her. She could barely keep her eyes open, barely form a coherent thought, but that didn't stop the words from spilling out of her mouth, breathless and unfiltered.

"Jesus—God—that's—fuck, you're so—" A strangled whimper cut her off as you curled your fingers again, hitting that spot that made her body jolt. "So good."

Her voice was shaking, her breath uneven, and she couldn't stop herself, couldn't stop the way she was moving against you, couldn't stop the way she needed more.

Her fingers clawed weakly at the couch cushion behind her, nails dragging against the fabric as her hips moved in rhythm with your hand. Her head tilted back, lips parted, breaths choppy and uneven. She kept trying to say something, kept opening her mouth like the words were there—right there—but all that came out were broken sounds, strangled moans that cracked in her throat.

And then, between gasps, she finally said it—barely audible, like it slipped out without permission.

"I've thought about this," she breathed, voice hoarse and raw. "So many times."

You didn't stop, just kept your pace steady, fingers dragging in and out of her with that perfect angle, that perfect pressure that made her thighs tense around you. Her stomach flexed with every wave that built, and her eyes fluttered open—just barely—to find yours.

There was a flicker of something deeper behind her dazed expression. Lust, obviously. But also disbelief. Awe.

"Not like this though," she managed, her voice catching in her throat. "Not this good."

Her gaze dropped to where your hand was moving between her legs, the slick sounds of it only making everything more intense. She looked at your fingers like she couldn't believe what they were doing to her—how deep they were, how wet they were. Her jaw trembled, and her eyes rolled back again as another moan tore from her.

Vada's legs were starting to shake around your waist, but her hips kept moving anyway—needy and uncoordinated, like her body didn't care how far gone she already was. Her head lolled to the side, teeth catching her bottom lip, but she couldn't bite back the moan that spilled out next. Her hand slid from the couch to your arm, gripping like she needed something to anchor her.

"I used to think about this so much," she panted, eyes blinking slowly, trying to keep them open. "Like... I'd imagine you touching me, sometimes when I couldn't sleep, or when I was just—" She broke off for a second, the pleasure crashing over her words. "I never thought it'd feel like this. I thought I'd be nervous, or too in my head—"

"Baby," you murmured, your voice low and uneven, but she kept talking, trying to push through it even as her body clenched tighter around your fingers.

"—but it's just you, and it feels—fuck—it feels so—"

"Vada."

Her name landed like a spark on her skin. Her voice died out, breath catching in her throat, and the sound that left her was more of a moan than a response.

"Yes?" she whispered, almost a whine, her eyes fluttering shut and then open again like she couldn't decide if she wanted to look at you or just fall apart.

Your lips hovered close to hers—so close she could feel your breath in her mouth, warm and shallow. The only thing separating a kiss was your restraint. Your nose grazed hers. And she could feel how breathless you were too, though not quite as wrecked as she was. Not yet.

"Please shut up," you said, barely more than a breath, but you were smirking—hot and slow—like it was a warning and a tease at the same time.

Vada didn't argue. Her breath caught again. She went quiet instantly, and the look in her eyes made it clear she liked that. Liked how wrecked she felt under you. Liked that you could still manage control even when she couldn't.

And you didn't stop.

Your fingers curled up inside her with practiced pressure, the pads dragging against that one spot that had her breath catching every time. You didn't let her hips escape you either—your free hand slid up her side to hold her in place, your palm splayed flat just under her ribs as she squirmed.

Vada let out a choked moan, her nails digging into your bicep now, trying to hold on to something as her thighs tensed around your waist again. Her body was too responsive to hide anything—every time your fingers thrust in, slow but deep, her whole chest jolted forward, her back arching off the couch in little jerks she couldn't control. Her head tipped back hard against the cushion, exposing her throat, her mouth slack with whimpers that kept slipping out between her gasps.

You dipped your head, lips grazing along her jaw, your breath brushing her ear as your fingers pumped faster. You didn't need to look to know how wet she was—you could feel it, slick and warm, coating your fingers and dripping down over your knuckles.

And her face—god, her face. She looked like she was losing it.

Her brows were furrowed, cheeks flushed, lips trembling as she tried to breathe through it. But she couldn't keep still. Her hips were chasing every motion of your hand, grinding into your palm like she needed more, needed it harder, deeper, anything. Her thighs clenched around you again, tighter this time, and a broken curse left her mouth.

"F-fuck—"

Her voice cracked halfway through it. Her whole body stuttered, trembling under your weight, and her hands flew to your shoulders now, clutching at you, nails scraping lightly down your skin like she couldn't hold herself back anymore. And that's when you knew—she was right at the edge.

So you stayed right there, fingers moving with purpose now, pushing in just a little deeper, curling up just right. You let her ride it out, your face still so close to hers that you could feel every unsteady breath against your lips. Your name tumbled out of her mouth like a plea, broken and urgent, over and over again.

And then her whole body seized—legs locking, mouth falling open in a silent moan before the sound finally caught in her throat.

She came hard.

You felt it all—every twitch, every clench around your fingers as her orgasm tore through her. Her whole body arched beneath you, thighs trembling, her chest rising fast as her moans broke apart into gasps she couldn't catch. It hit her so suddenly and so deep that she was left stunned, lips parted like she was still trying to speak, but nothing came out.

You didn't pull away, not right away. You kept your fingers buried inside her, letting her ride out the aftershocks as her body spasmed beneath you. Slower now, gentler, your touch shifted—fingertips stroking her from the inside, coaxing every last ripple of pleasure until she was too sensitive to take it.

Only then did you ease your hand away, and her legs fell open, limp and trembling. Her hands slipped down from your shoulders, dragging weakly across your back as her body sagged into the couch like she had no bones left to hold her up.

Her chest was still heaving.

Her skin was flushed.

And her eyes—when she finally blinked them open—were glassy, dazed, and somehow still locked on you. You leaned down, brushing your lips against her jaw before you settled over her again, your hands gentle now as they smoothed up her sides.

Vada was smiling.

Barely, lazily, breathlessly.

She looked wrecked. And it was maybe the hottest thing you'd ever seen.

Still catching her breath, she gave a quiet laugh, lips twitching like she couldn't quite form real words yet. But she tried.

"Holy shit."

You kissed the side of her mouth, slow and warm, and when you pulled back, she finally looked at you fully—eyes wide, cheeks flushed, hair messy against the cushions.

And then, with a small smirk and a husky voice, she whispered, "I can't feel my legs."

You didn't say anything right away. Just let yourself look at her, really look—at the way her lashes stuck together at the corners from the wetness in her eyes, at the little flush still lingering across her cheeks and chest. Your hand moved without thinking, gently brushing sweaty strands of hair back from her face. She leaned into the touch, eyes fluttering closed for a second like even that soft contact was too much.

Still breathing heavily, Vada shifted slightly beneath you, her thighs twitching in aftershocks as she tried to get comfortable again. She winced a little, laughing under her breath as her body reminded her just how hard she'd come. You whispered something close to her ear—some soft murmur that made her smile—but mostly, you stayed quiet. Let the silence settle around you both.

Eventually, you started to move. Carefully. Slowly pulling her underwear back up her legs, tucking her in again like you were scared she'd break. She watched you, dazed but glowing, her fingers brushing against your arm as you helped her. When you sat back down beside her, she immediately curled into your side, her head resting against your shoulder like it belonged there. Her breathing was steadier now, but you could still feel the occasional hitch in her chest when your fingertips moved over her bare skin.

You let your hand rest on her stomach, your thumb tracing idle little circles as you both just... lay there. Warm. Spent. Close.

And then she tilted her face up toward yours again, eyes half-lidded and mouth pink from all the kissing and gasping and biting down on moans. Her voice was rough, still catching on the tail end of her own breathlessness.

"Can we do that again?"

YES. YES. This is why I love you @sorrowedpickle 😫💖

Drunk in love.

g!p!Jenna Ortega x fem!reader

Warnings: smut, that’s it. Pure smut

a/n: i was eating sea food while writing this and so was @mommykye and @makncheese12 who were lovely enough to help with editing it so go follow them

Her touch was electric, a frantic exploration that sent shivers down your spine. Her fingers dug into your sides, pulling you closer as her lips remained glued to the sensitive curve of your neck, her breath hot and ragged against your skin making you shiver. The frantic rhythm of your pulse thrummed in your head as you fumbled through your purse to find the key card.

The memories of the Met Gala after-party swam hazily in your mind – the clinking of champagne glasses, the sound of laughter and conversations with so many people and friends of Jenna faint in the back of your mind almost near forgotten as you rush to get inside. The drinks had loosened your will to act right, painting the air between you with desire. Every glance, every accidental brush of skin to skin, had sent sparks flying through your core and even more through Jenna’s.

And now, her pressed against your back in the dimly lit hallway, the carefully constructed facade of polite conversation had shattered as whispers in your ear were said throughout the car ride. Her after-party dress, a shedded down version of her original dress, clung to her curves like a second skin, each movement a tantalizing display. Her hands, emboldened by the unspoken tension, slipped beneath the hem of your own short dress, sending a jolt of heat through you. You gasped as her fingers, insistent and knowing, traced the lace of your panties. Her teeth grazed the shell of your ear, a delicate torment that made you shudder with anticipation.

The fear of being seen, the awareness of the public space, spurred you to action. Your fingers finally closed around the cool metal of the key card. With a surge of adrenaline, you slid it into the lock and stumbled into the darkened sanctuary of the hotel room, Jenna a very close shadow pressed against your back before you turned in her hold as she kicked the door shut, a loud bang shouting out as it clicked.

The urgency intensified. Her hands worked swiftly at the zipper of your dress, a soft growl escaping her lips as the fabric gave way. Simultaneously, your own hands reached behind her, fumbling with the delicate strings of her corset. Your lips crashed against hers, a desperate, hungry kiss that tasted of expensive champagne and her intoxicating Dior perfume, a blend underscored by her own musk that sent your senses reeling.

The sound of tearing fabric filled the small space as she impatiently pulled the expensive dress she had tailored for you down your body, the delicate material pooling at your feet, discarded without a second thought. Her hands, now with uninhibited access, roamed your skin, mapping the contours of your body with a feverish intensity. You, in turn, finally managed to untie the intricate lacework of her corset, releasing her from its structured embrace no thanks to her as she made it much harder for you, more focused on getting you naked than herself.

Before you could fully register the change in atmosphere, you were pushed forward, stumbling onto the plush surface of the bed. She followed, a lack of grace in her movements as she crawled on top of you, her gaze hot and filled with a raw desire that mirrored your own.

Her dark eyes, wide and dilated, raked over you. "You look so pretty like this," she whispered, her voice husky with longing. Your hair fanned out against the pillows, breath catching in your throat as you stared up at her, every nerve ending alight with anticipation. Your own hands reached up, fumbling with the buttons of her silk button up, eager to feel her skin against yours.

Her lips left a trail of fire down your neck. "beautiful," she murmured, her breath hot against your flesh. A shaky laugh escaped your lips. "You're one to talk." The words were barely out before your hands found her waist, pulling her down between your legs, a silent plea for the friction you both craved.

A husky laugh rumbled in her chest, a sound that vibrated through your core, igniting a firestorm of sensation. You felt her hand reach behind you, fumbling and almost struggling with the straps before pulling them apart and quickly discarding the offending fabric joined your dress on the floor. In the next instant, her lips closed over your nipple in a swift motion, a sensation so intense that coherent thought dissolved into a wave of pure, unadulterated pleasure.

you moan quietly, hand reaching to the back of her hand as you hold her there while your other hand works to find the strap of her own bra.

The tug on her bra strap was clumsy but effective. The delicate lace parted, and you finally had the skin-on-skin contact you craved. Jenna shifted above you, her weight a delicious pressure. Her mouth left your breast, trailing kisses down your sternum, each touch sending jolts of electricity through your already heightened senses.

Jenna’s breath hitched as your fingers finally released her bra. The immediate skin-on-skin contact sent a fresh wave of desire crashing over you both. She shifted, her silk shirt falling off completely, revealing the soft swell of her breasts and below the band of her boxers. Her dark eyes locked with yours, a silent, hungry conversation passing between you.

Her hand slid down your stomach, her fingers dipping beneath the elastic of your panties once more, finding the slick heat waiting there. You gasped, your hips lifting instinctively as she explored you with a practiced touch.

“God, you feel so good,” she groaned, her voice thick with lust. Your hand tangled in her hair, tilting her head back as she fought to rain kisses down your jawline.

Without warning, she shifted again, her weight pressing you further into the mattress. Her lips found yours once more, a deep, open-mouthed kiss that left you breathless. Her tongue tangled with yours, a frantic dance of desire. You could taste the lingering champagne and something else, something uniquely her, that drove you wild.

She broke the kiss abruptly, her gaze intense. “I want you to taste me,” she rasped, her hand still firmly between your legs, her fingers teasing and probing. Your own hands reached for the hem of her boxers, your desire a tight knot in your belly.

“Then let me,” you managed.

Jenna didn’t hesitate. With a rough tug, she pulled down her boxers, revealing the impressive length and girth of her hard dick. It pulsed visibly, thick and heavy, the head already glistening. She moved, a low growl rumbling in her chest, and lay back against the pillows, her eyes never leaving yours.

Your breath came out ragged. You moved to lay on your stomach and reached out, your fingers trembling slightly as you wrapped them around the shaft. It was hot and solid, filling your hand completely. Jenna groaned, her hands moving to your head to grip your hair tightly as she watched.

You leaned down, your lips brushing against the velvety head. She inhaled sharply, her hips lifting slightly off the mattress. You took her into your mouth, the taste instantly familiar and intoxicating. You sucked deeply, your hands working up and down the length of her dick, relishing the feel of her throbbing against your tongue.

Jenna’s moans grew louder, more desperate. Her hands tangled in your hair, guiding your head, urging her dick deeper down your throat. Her hips bucked against your mouth, a frantic rhythm that mirrored the frantic beat of your own heart. You could feel the tension building in her body, the anticipation radiating off her in waves.

The taste of her was potent, arousing you further. You swirled your tongue around the head, paying special attention to the sensitive underside. A strangled sound escaped her lips, fingers tightened in your hair, a silent plea for more.

After what felt like an eternity, she pulled you back slightly, her breath coming in ragged gasps. Her eyes were glazed with lust, her cheeks flushed a deep crimson.

“Fuck, baby,” she groaned, her voice thick and raw. “You feel so good. So fucking good.”

She moved again, her hands gripping your thighs, pulling your legs open. You instinctively parted them further, your own desire a burning ache between your thighs. She positioned herself between your legs, the hard head of her thick dick pressing against your slick, swollen pussy. You gasped, a primal sound of anticipation escaping your lips.

“Please, Jenna,” you whispered, your hands reaching for her hips, guiding her closer, desperate for the connection.

With a guttural groan that seemed to tear from her very core, she thrust forward, her dick sliding deep inside you. You cried out, a sharp intake of breath as she stretched you open, the sensation both intensely pleasurable and momentarily overwhelming.

She paused for a fraction of a second, letting you adjust, her hands gripping your hips tightly, her gaze locked on your face.

Then, she began to move.

Her thrusts were deep and rough, fueled by the alcohol and the raw, desperate need that had been simmering between you all night. The worn bedframe slammed against the headboard with each powerful movement, the rhythmic thudding echoing in the small room like a frantic heartbeat. You wrapped your legs around her waist, meeting her forceful thrusts with your own instinctive movements, your hands gripping her back, digging your nails into her skin, leaving long red marks in there wake.

“Fuck, you’re so tight,” she grunted, her breath hot against your ear, the words laced with a desperate edge. “So fucking good.”

You were both slick with sweat, your bodies moving together in a primal, almost violent rhythm. The world outside the hotel room ceased to exist. There was only the intense friction, the deep penetration, the desperate gasps and moans that filled the air, punctuated by the relentless banging of the bed.

Breaking her relentless rhythm, she suddenly flipped you over with surprising strength, manhandling you onto your hands and knees. You barely registered the abrupt change in position, your mind completely consumed by the intense sensations flooding your body. Her hands gripped your hips, lifting you slightly as she slammed into you from behind, her thick dick hitting your deepest point with each forceful thrust.

“Like this, baby?” she growled, her voice thick with lust and a hint of something almost feral.

“Yes,” you gasped, your head thrown back, her hand tangling itself into your hair while her other hand pushes you down between your shoulder blades. “Oh god, yes, Jenna. Fuck me.”

The force of her thrusts was almost brutal, the bed rocking precariously beneath you, threatening to give way entirely. You could hear the wood creak and groan under the immense strain, but neither of you cared. You were both too far gone, lost in the intoxicating, almost violent frenzy of your drunken, desperate coupling.

Jenna’s hands roamed your body, squeezing your waist, pulling you closer and pushing you down, her fingers digging into your skin, leaving faint trails. Her teeth grazed your neck, leaving a trail of fire in their wake, a primal claim. So much different than her usual calm public figure.

The rhythmic pounding continued, faster and harder, the urgency escalating until you both teetered on the precipice. You cried out, your body clenching around her thick dick as wave after wave of intense, shuddering pleasure washed over you, stealing your breath. Jenna groaned loudly, a primal sound of release tearing from her throat as she pumped into you one last time, her entire body shuddering with the force of her orgasm before collapsing on top of you, her weight heavy and utterly satisfying.

You both laid there for a moment, taking a moment to breathe and stay in the small embrace.

“More,” Jenna mumbles suddenly, breaking the silence as a sudden burst of energy courses through her.

You moan softly as she yanks you to the end of the bed, legs falling off as she positions herself inside of you again.

~~~~~

The frantic energy of moments before dissolved into a heavy, sated silence after hours of Jenna endlessly pushing both your limits. The only sounds were the shallow, rapid breaths escaping your lips and the deeper, rumbling inhales and exhales of Jenna’s body pressed against yours. Her weight, which had felt electric and demanding just moments ago, now felt comforting, possessive. Her still-hard dick remained buried deep inside you, a lingering reminder of the raw intensity that had just consumed you both.

A small, involuntary whimper escaped your lips as you shifted slightly beneath her. The friction, though dulled, was still undeniably present. You could feel the faint throbbing of her pulse against your inner walls, a subtle echo of the storm that had just passed.

Jenna mumbled something incoherent, eyebrows furrowing before relaxing, her face nuzzling into the crook of your neck, her breath warm and damp against your skin. Her grip on your hips gone, but she remained connected with them wrapped around your torso, her body a dead weight atop yours.

You ran a hand through her sweat-dampened hair, the dark strands clinging to your fingers. The scent of her – the lingering perfume, the musky undertones of exertion, and something uniquely Jenna – filled your senses. A wave of tenderness washed over you, a stark contrast to the almost violent passion of your lovemaking.

A soft snore escaped her lips, a clear indication that exhaustion and the lingering effects of the champagne had finally claimed her. Her body remained intimately joined with yours, a testament to the depth of your shared pleasure.

A wry smile touched your lips. You could only imagine the state of the bed, the rhythmic banging against the headboard echoing in your mind. You made a mental note to discreetly inquire about any potential damage to the furniture upon checkout. The image of the worn frame protesting under your combined frenzy was almost comical now, in the quiet aftermath. not to mention the embarrassment you’ll encounter.

Your gaze drifted to the discarded remnants of your expensive dress and her tailored gown, lying in crumpled heaps on the floor. They were casualties of your mutual desire, ripped and disregarded in your haste to be closer.

A fresh wave of desire stirred within you, a low thrumming in your core. The thought of waking up with her still inside you, the promise of a slow, deliberate awakening filled with lingering touches and whispered promises, sent a shiver of anticipation down your spine. You imagined the lazy stretches, the soft moans as she became aware of your intertwined bodies, the inevitable renewal of your passion.

You shifted again, trying to get more comfortable without fully dislodging her. The slight movement caused a soft groan to rumble in her chest, and she instinctively tightened her grip on you, a possessive reflex even in sleep.

A surge of affection welled up within you. This raw, unguarded intimacy, so different from the carefully curated public persona she presented, was a privilege. You knew, with a certainty that resonated deep within you, that when Jenna woke, still intimately connected to you, the night was far from over. The frantic exploration might give way to a more languid, sensual awakening, but the intensity of her desire would undoubtedly remain. And you would be there, ready to meet it, your own body already anticipating her touch.

—————

Tagslist: @skate-to-breathee @wol-fica @raven-ss @restlessdot @dumb-fvck104 @crazyoffher @rhythm-catsandwine @makncheese12 @jennasslut@t-wylia @pnsteblnme @mar-romanova @ssinfulprayers @hellenheaven @btrizi @furry-monster-trash @je-tts @mokotodenis123 @ajortga @jensortega813 @bluetreecloud20

coitus

pairings: wednesday x fem!reader

warnings: smut 18+, strap-on used (r receiving), just lesbian sex, dom!wednesday, sub!reader (all characters are 18+)

summary: wednesday invites you to her dorm to engage in ‘coitus’— as she so sexily put it. (requested by anon which can be found at the end)

MASTERLIST

The last five minutes of class felt like they stretched into eternity. You were barely keeping yourself upright, blinking slowly, the professor’s voice fading into white noise. Your body screamed for rest, but then—

Slide.

A small piece of folded paper appeared on your desk, pushed toward you by none other than Wednesday— your girlfriend.

You straightened a little, eyes flickering to hers, but as usual, her expression was unreadable. Still, there was something expectant in the way she held your gaze, waiting.

Carefully, you unfolded the note.

‘My dorm. 7 PM sharp. Do not be late.’

No signature, no explanation—just Wednesday being Wednesday.

By the time class ended, you’d hoped to find her lingering outside, but she was already gone. Typical. With no other option, you went searching for Enid instead, if anyone knew Wednesday’s whereabouts, it would be her.

You found her in the common area, chatting with Yoko about something unimportant before perking up the moment she saw you. “Hey, bestie! What’s up?”

“I’m looking for Wednesday,” you said, crossing your arms. “She left me a note, but I have no idea what for.”

Enid’s ears practically perked up like an excited golden retriever. “Ooooh, mysterious.” Then, as if just remembering, she added, “Oh, by the way, I’m crashing at Yoko’s tonight.”

That made you pause. “Why?”

“Oh, Wednesday said she wanted to have—” Enid scrunched her face, thinking. “What was the word? Coitus?”

You blinked. “…What?”

“Yeah, coitus.” She shrugged. “No clue what it means, but it sounded kinda serious, so I figured it was best to leave.”

Your stomach flipped. Something about that word—coitus—felt… ominous. Like it held some kind of heavy importance you weren’t grasping.

“What the hell does ‘coitus’ mean?” you muttered.

“I dunno.” Enid patted your shoulder. “But whatever it is, have fun!”

After your conversation with Enid, you felt a creeping sense of unease settle over you.

Coitus.

The word bounced around your head like a stray ping-pong ball. It sounded scientific, almost clinical. And with Wednesday involved, there was a very real possibility that it was exactly that.

Which is why you now found yourself sneaking into the chemistry lab, eyes darting around as you grabbed a pair of safety glasses from the supply shelf.

Whatever Wednesday had in store, it was better to be prepared.

Sliding them into your pocket, you left the lab with a sense of grim determination.

—

Your knuckles rapped against the heavy wooden door of Wednesday's dorm room, three sharp, decisive knocks that echoed in the quiet hallway. You shifted your weight from foot to foot, hands fidgeting nervously at your sides as you waited for a response.

After what felt like an eternity, the door swung open with a low creak, revealing Wednesday standing in the dimly lit entryway. She was dressed in her usual dark attire - a black turtleneck, long skirt, and those damned boots you loved so much. Her hair was slicked back into a tight braid, and her pale skin seemed to glow in the low light.

"Punctual," she observed, stepping aside to let you enter. "I appreciate your timeliness."

You stepped into Wednesday's room, your eyes immediately drawn to the bed draped in a white towel, the fabric stark against the dark decor. Beside it sat an unmarked cardboard box, its plain brown surface somehow more unsettling than any gothic trinket.

Turning to face Wednesday, you crossed your arms, a mix of curiosity and trepidation in your voice. "Wednesday, what exactly does 'coitus' mean? Enid mentioned it earlier, and... I want to know what I'm walking into here."

Wednesday closed the door behind you, the latch clicking into place with a sense of finality. She turned to you, her dark eyes glinting in the low light.

"'Coitus'," she repeated, as if tasting the word on her tongue. "It means... communion. Intimacy. The joining of two souls in the most primal, carnal sense.”

“Oh.”

You blinked, dumbfounded by Wednesday's blunt explanation. A flush crept up your neck as the true meaning of her earlier note sank in. You reached up and removed the safety glasses, feeling rather foolish for bringing them.

"Right," you mumble weakly, setting them down on a nearby table. "I thought... I mean, I didn't know if you meant..." You trailed off, suddenly tongue-tied.

Wednesday watched you, an almost amused smirk playing at the corners of her mouth. "Did you think I was going to conduct a science experiment?" she asked, one eyebrow arching.

She stepped closer, her skirt swishing softly with each step. "I have done extensive research on the techniques that are used when engaging in coitus. Our first time will be… superlative at best.”

She stopped just short of you, close enough that you could feel the heat radiating off her skin, could smell the faint scent of her perfume - something dark and floral, like night-blooming jasmine.

"And I intend to discover every inch of you," she murmured, reaching out to trail a finger along your jawline. "Every curve, every quiver, every breathy gasp.”

Her hand slid down to cup your chin, tilting your face to meet her gaze. In the low light, her eyes seemed to glow with a fevered intensity.

“Clothes off.”

You swallowed hard, your mouth suddenly dry. With shaking hands, you reached for the hem of your shirt, pulling it up and over your head in one swift motion. You let it drop to the floor, standing before Wednesday in just your bra and bottoms.

Wednesday's gaze raked over your newly exposed skin, lingering on the curves of your breasts, the dip of your waist.

"All of it," she murmured, her voice a dark purr. "I want to see all of you."

You reached behind your back, unhooking your bra with deft fingers. It fell away, revealing your breasts to her hungry gaze.

Next, you shimmied out of your bottoms, letting them pool at your feet. You kicked them off, standing before her in nothing but your underwear. The lace felt too thin, too flimsy against the weight of her inspection.

Wednesday paused in her circling, standing before you. She reached out, tracing the delicate lace of your panties, her finger dipping just slightly beneath the fabric to brush against your skin.

"Lay down," she commanded softly, nodding towards the bed.

You did as you were told, the towel-draped mattress creaking beneath your weight as you settled onto it. The fabric of the towel was rough and cold against your skin.

She kicks off her boots before disrobing with precision, each article of clothing falling away to reveal more of her pale skin. First went the black turtleneck, pulled over her head in one smooth motion to expose the lacy black bra beneath. She reached behind her back, unhooking it with a flick of her fingers.

Her breasts, now freed, were full and perfect. She let the bra drop to the floor, kicking it aside carelessly.

Next, she shimmied out of her skirt, the dark fabric slithering down her slender legs. Beneath, she wore a pair of simple black panties.

Now clad in only her underwear, Wednesday turned her attention to the ominous box. She lifted the lid, revealing a black leather strap-on nestled within.

She lifted it out, the harness glinting in the low light. It was simple, black leather straps and a rigid, silicone phallic shape jutting out from the center. She stepped into it, securing the straps around her hips and thighs with practiced ease.

The strap-on nestled against her pubic bone, the leather of the harness smooth and cool against her skin. She adjusted it, ensuring a snug fit before turning back to you, a dark smirk playing at her lips.

"There," she murmured, drinking in the sight of you splayed out before her. "Now, let's begin our... communion."

Wednesday crawled onto the bed, the towel crinkling beneath her knees. She hovered over you. Her eyes, dark and intense, never left yours as she leaned down to press a kiss to your breastbone.

You gasped softly, your back arching off the bed as her lips brushed against your skin. She smirked against your flesh, trailing kisses up the curve of your breast to circle your nipple with the tip of her tongue. Your nipple hardened under her ministrations.

Without warning, she drew your nipple into her mouth, suckling hard. Pleasure sparked through you, shooting straight to your core. You tangled your fingers in her hair, gripping the strands as you arched into her touch.

Wednesday released your nipple with a wet pop, a string of saliva connecting her mouth to your breast. She grinned up at you, a wicked glint in her eyes.

"Beautiful," she murmured, trailing her fingertips down your stomach, mapping out the dip and curve of your muscles. "You're exquisite."

Her hand dipped beneath the waistband of your panties, teasing the sensitive skin there. You squirmed, a breathy whimper escaping your lips.

Then, with a sudden tug, she pulled your panties down your legs. The fabric scraped against your skin as she dragged them lower and lower, until she was tossing them onto the floor.

Now, with nothing separating your most intimate place from her touch, Wednesday settled between your thighs. She brushed her fingertips against your folds, feeling the wetness gathering there.

"Already so wet," she purred, a wicked grin spreading across her face. "I've barely touched you, and you're dripping."

To prove her point, she brought her fingers to her lips, sucking your arousal from her digits. Her eyes fluttered shut, and she hummed in approval.

"Delectable," she murmured, before leaning down to brush the head of the strap-on against your dripping slit.

She teased you with it, rubbing the smooth silicone tip against your clit, circling your entrance. She took her time, drawing out the anticipation until you were writhing beneath her, desperate for more.

"Please," you whimpered, your voice barely above a whisper. “Mmph…”

Wednesday paused, the head of the strap-on hovering just at your entrance. She looked up at you, her eyes glinting with dark amusement at your desperation.

"Please what?" she murmured, a wicked smirk playing at her lips. "Tell me what you want. I want to hear you say it."

She pressed the tip of the strap-on harder against your folds, not quite entering you, but applying a pressure that made you ache for more. Her other hand slid up your body, cupping your breast, kneading the soft flesh.

"Tell me," she urged, rolling your nipple between her fingers, pinching it lightly. "Beg for it, and I might just give you what you want."

"Please, Wednesday," you whimpered, your voice trembling with need. "I... I want you. I want to feel you inside me. I need you to... to fuck me."

The words felt foreign on your tongue, but the desperation in your voice was unmistakable. Your hips bucked up against the strap-on, seeking more.

Wednesday's eyes darkened at your plea, a flash of hunger sparking in their depths. "Good girl," she purred, before thrusting forward, burying the strap-on deep inside you with one smooth stroke.

You cried out, your back arching off the bed as you were suddenly full. The stretch was intense, bordering on painful, but it faded into pleasure as your body adjusted to the size.

"Oh god," you gasped, your nails digging into the sheets beneath you. "Wednesday... it's so big."

"You can take it," Wednesday countered. She started to move, pulling out slowly before slamming back in, setting a hard, fast pace.

The room filled with the obscene sound of skin slapping against skin and your wanton cries. She loomed over you, her pale skin slick with a layer of sweat.

"Fuck," she hissed, her hips snapping forward with brutal force. "So tight. So perfect."

One hand gripped your hip, fingers sinking into the flesh hard enough to leave marks. The other slid up your body to wrap around your throat, applying just a hint of pressure, just enough to make you feel your airway tighten.

Wednesday leaned down. She paused her m movements, the strap-on buried deep inside you, as she captured your lips in a searing kiss.

It started as a bite, her teeth sinking into your lower lip hard enough to draw blood. You gasped into her mouth, the metallic taste exploding on your tongue. But then her mouth softened, her lips moving against yours in a fierce, hungry rhythm.

She kissed you like she was starving for it, like she wanted to devour you whole. Her tongue entered your mouth, tangling with yours. She tasted minty, as though she had brushed her teeth beforehand.

As she kissed you, she started to move again, her hips rolling in a slow, sensual grind. The strap-on slid in and out of you with a maddeningly steady rhythm.

She broke the kiss to trail her lips down the column of your throat, pausing to suck a dark bruise into the skin at the joining of your neck and shoulder. You knew it would be visible in the light of day - a mark of her possession, her claim on you.

"Mine," she growled against your skin, punctuating the word with a sharp thrust of her hips. "All mine. Say it."

She wanted to hear you say it. Wanted you to acknowledge who you belonged to, who owned you in this moment.

"Yours!" you cried out, your voice breaking on a high, keening wail as the pleasure crested over you like a tidal wave. "Oh god, yes.. fuck.. I'm yours, Wednesday! All yours."

Your nails raked down her back, leaving red lines of passion etched into her pale skin. Your legs wrapped around her waist, heels digging into her backside as you pulled her impossibly closer.

Wednesday grunted, a sound of dark satisfaction rumbling in her chest. She captured your lips again, swallowing your cries.

Wednesday's hand slid down your body, her fingers finding your clit. She rubbed the sensitive nub in tight, hard circles, pushing you closer and closer to the edge of oblivion.

"Come for me," she commanded, her voice a dark growl in your ear. "Let me feel you come around me. Now."

"Fuck, fuck, FUCK!" you moaned, your body twitching beneath Wednesday as the orgasm crashed over you. Your vision went black as pleasure consumed you.

Wednesday didn't let up, pounding into you through your climax with ruthless intensity. Each thrust pushed you higher, the coil of ecstasy in your core winding tighter and tighter until you thought you might snap.

Her fingers flicked over your clit, the pleasure almost too much to bear.

Your body continued to shake and convulse with the aftershocks of your intense orgasm, legs trembling around Wednesday's waist. She slowed her pace, her hips rolling languidly as she worked you through the waves of pleasure.

Finally, with a low, satisfied grunt, she stilled completely. She hovered over you, chest heaving as she caught her breath.

"Beautiful," she murmured, reaching out to brush a strand of hair from your face. Her touch was surprisingly gentle.

She leaned down to press a soft, almost tender kiss to your forehead. Then, with another grunt of effort, she rolled off you and onto her side, pulling you with her.

You lay tangled in her arms, your head pillowed on her chest, listening to the pounding of her heart as it gradually slowed. Her fingers traced idle patterns on your back, a soothing, almost loving caress.

"Sleep now," she whispered, pressing another kiss to the top of your head. "Rest. You've earned it after that… ravishing first time.”

—

REQUEST: we need wednesday using a strap-on on us bro please and it's both our first time😭 please write it

YES WHERE HAS THIS BEEN ALL MY LIFE? >genuinely what I said immediately after seeing it

I mean?? Whattt who said that? 🙄

Relieving stress.

Masterlist

Synopsis: Your wife had a stressful day and needs you.

Warning: smut, g!p Jenna x reader, dom!jenna, sub!reader, dirty talk, mommy kink, nicknames, blowjob, P in V unprotected, degradation, dacryphilia, begging, breeding, creampie and some stuff.

Words: 2.1k

The clock on the wall was moving slowly with each second, it was getting closer to the time when your wife would return from work, as she had promised that morning. You were relaxing on the couch in your shared apartment, watching a show on television, completely absorbed in the content in front of you, and then you heard a repeated vibration coming from the phone next to you and curiously, you decided to check it.

Amore Mio: I'll be arriving in 10 minutes, wait for me on your knees in the room and with the new lingerie I gave you.

Without waiting a second longer, you promptly stand up from your seat, anxiety coursing through your veins at the mere thought of what would happen to you once Jenna returned. Once inside the spacious room, you shed your current clothes and rummage through the closet for the new lingerie set indicated, finding it inside a crimson red embroidered box. “Finally.” you think to yourself.

Minutes after you get ready, you hear the sound of the front door being unlocked by the password, which is your wedding anniversary date, and you immediately decide to kneel on the soft carpet next to the bed, waiting for her. Jenna enters the room in complete silence, her expression serious, indicating accumulated tension that would probably turn into anger, this was your end.

As she unbuttons her red blazer and takes it off her body, she throws it on the armchair and walks towards you, stopping in front of you and observing you before starting to speak.

"Have you behaved well during the day, cara mia?" she questioned with false affection, her cold hands going towards your chin, gently pulling so she can study your expression.

Your nervousness was noticeable, she could smell it from afar.

"Yes." You pause briefly, thinking about what you should call her. "Yes, mommy. I behaved well." Your voice, surprisingly, manages to sound confident and Jenna smiles genuinely, increasing the tension between you.

"Good." She murmurs. "But I feel like something is missing, where is your collar?"

Shit, you forgot.

Your gaze wavered for a few seconds, your mind churning as did your stomach in a failed attempt to keep your self-confidence intact. But Jenna was here, and from the affection she was showing, you felt that she would spare you from any punishments.

Before you could respond, Jenna walked on her high heels to the dresser drawer, opening it and taking out a black collar with your name embroidered on the gold pendant, it was your wife's favorite.

"As always, I have to take care of everything, don't I? You're so dumb that you couldn't even remember to do something simple." She speaks in a sarcastic way, her tone bordering on stress. Standing in front of you again, she puts your hair in front of your shoulder, only to fit the collar around your neck, then, she steps away with a few steps. "That's better. Now, come here."

With those words, you swallow hard and start crawling towards her, getting so close to her that you could smell her french perfume.

"Unbutton my pants, slowly." Jenna orders, pushing your hair back as you unbutton the buttons on her dress pants and slowly remove the pants from her hips, leaving her in just a pair of black underwear that had a clear bulge.

If you were tense before, now that feeling has intensified. No matter how many times you have done this, it will always be like the first time, where you felt small and inferior to that woman's dominance. Without waiting for any more orders and knowing what to do, you pull down her underwear, your fingers trembling genuinely with the anticipation of what you were going to do next.

Her cock quickly springs free, the red glans hitting your nose as pre-cum drips down the tip, you swallow hard and for a few seconds, you forget to breathe.

"You already know what to do." Jenna says in a slightly hoarse voice, guiding the thick shaft towards your lips, pressing there with a naughty smile on her face.

You open your mouth, collecting the leaking liquid with your tongue and circling it around the head before slowly descending. Your movements were hesitant and careful, sucking every inch of her trying to take a good part of the shaft. Short sighs escape your wife's mouth, who holds your hair to make your job easier, however, this was making her impatient and even more nervous.

"Fuck- this isn’t working." She mutters, and in a frustrated growl, she shoves the entire length down your throat, making you widen your eyes and cough at the sudden movement. "You lost the habit? You’re fucking pathetic."

Jenna then begins to move, moaning softly as she feels how your mouth molds perfectly around her shaft. You drool, feeling the saliva accumulate on the edge of your mouth as the cock moves back and forth, making you choke and cough with a few tears forming in your eyes.

"Such a greedy slut, fuck- I love how you cry taking my cock." She exclaims with a heavy breath, fucking your throat as if she was taking out the frustrations of the day in that act.

Your hands go straight to her thighs, slapping them as if silently begging for air, tears flowed freely down your flushed cheeks and that pressure of the throbbing cock in your mouth was enough to make your panties wet, bringing discomfort between your legs.

Jenna smiles at the sight before her, you looked so perfect on your knees and with your face dripping wet, it was hard for her to hold back her own orgasm that was getting closer by the second. The grip on your hair tightens and a knot forms in her lower stomach as the thrusting continues. With one last throb of your tongue and a hoarse moan from Jenna, you feel your mouth quickly being filled with hot, bittersweet cum, coughing as you feel the liquid trickle down your throat, and then you manage to pull away.

Your chest rose and fell rapidly as you tried to catch your breath, your chin was wet with your own saliva and cum and your face was flushed from what had just happened. Just when you thought it was over, Jenna quickly grabbed you by the collar around your neck, dragging you to the king sized bed you shared every night.

"J-Jenna, please!" You exclaim, feeling your own clit throb with the pull on your collar, being thrown onto the bed by your wife. At this point, you were sure you wouldn't be alive at the end of the night to tell the history.

“What did you call me?” She questioned, her jaw clenching as she frowned, secretly daring you to repeat it.

"Mommy! I meant mommy! Please forgive me." your voice was breaking, needing a lot of effort not to stutter at this point.

A slap is quickly delivered to your face and you can feel a strong burning sensation taking over your cheek, which has left a red mark.

"you stupid, how many times do I have to correct you for you start calling me the right way? " She growls, climbing onto the bed and pulling your legs so she can stand between them. "Color?"

"G-Green." You start to stutter with tears welling up in your eyes again, drawing a smile from your wife.

"Good." She puts her hand on the waistband of your lingerie, pulling it down and passing it over your legs so she can remove it from your body. And the sparkle in Jenna's eyes was noticeable as she saw how soaked your panties were. "It's unbelievable that you got wet just by sucking my cock." She laughs.

Jenna brings the panties closer to your face, indicating that you should open your mouth. As soon as you obey, she shoves the fabric into your mouth, making you taste your own arousal. And without saying anything else, she guides her cock towards your pussy, thrusting into you without warning. A muffled scream escaped your lips around the panties as you felt the thick length stretching you for the first time that day, hitting your cervix all at once.

"Poor baby, have you forgotten what it’s like to have mommy’s cock inside you? Don’t worry, I’m here to remind you." She mocks you a little breathlessly, grabbing your waist and moving against you repeatedly.

Your breath starts to falter with each thrust into your pussy, the feeling of having your wife's cock buried inside you being so good that it made you scream in pleasure, even though your mouth was covered. Your hands go to her shoulders, squeezing and digging your nails into her skin, making her moan along with you.

"Fuck- My hot whore, I want to put my babies in you so bad." She exclaimed breathlessly, squeezing your hips as she penetrated your pussy, her hand went down to your clit, her fingers massaging with some pressure just to drive you crazy.

"Mommy, please-" You mumble in a muffled voice, feeling your drool slowly drip from your mouth with each moan that escaped.

And then you feel the head of her dick brush against your sweet spot, eliciting a scream and making you writhe on the creaky mattress. By this point, you were crying with pleasure, salty tears continuing to stream down your face. You desperately needed to cum and just whimpering wouldn't be enough.

"Please, what? Can't think straight anymore, huh?" She gasps , removing her hand from your clit to pull the panties out of your mouth as she continues to pound your tight hole. "Tell me what you need, baby."

"C-Cum! I want to cum!" You manage to say loudly, whimpering pathetically and closing your eyes tightly to try to hold back more tears.

"And you think you deserve to cum? All I see is a stupid slut who can only cry." Her voice sounded hoarse and with evident desire, she was panting close to your face due to the rough movements inside you.

"Yes, I deserve it! Please, l-let me cum." You begged at the top of your lungs, that pressure in your lower stomach was suffocating you, you craved an orgasm and being pushed to the edge with every movement made you go crazy.

"How cute, asking like that makes me want to give in." Jenna murmurs, moaning close to your ear, her hand going down once more to stimulate your throbbing clit. "You'll have to wait for me."

As silent as they remained after that, the room was filled with noises, the wet sound of thrusts, the mingled moans and even the bed creaking frantically beneath you both. Jenna was determined, she would make sure you felt full and satisfied until the end of the night.

She could feel herself coming to orgasm just as you did, her movements faltering little by little as her breathing became more labored. Your wife gripped your thigh, pulling it up to giving her more access to your soaking wet pussy.

"I'm going to fill you up so much that after tonight you'll be pregnant, there'll be no escape." She groans breathlessly, the moans mixing in sync. You were absurdly close, your hand desperately searching for something to hold on to as your legs began to tremble. "Cum for me, cara mia."

With those words, your eyes close tightly as you let yourself go. You feel that accumulated tension being released along with strong tremors that came to the surface, your screams were absurdly delicious to Jenna's ears, who can't contain herself, and reaches climax along with you. Long jets of hot semen are shot deep inside your hole, making her moan and stop moving, allowing herself to empty into your heat.

Seconds after your both come down from the peak, Jenna slowly pulls out of you, making the white liquid to start escaping from inside you.

"That was so fucking good, holy shit.” Your wife gasps, her chest rising and falling just like yours. You shift in bed so you can sit up, your legs feeling weak. “You have no idea how much relief that gave me, thank you.”

She gently leans in to kiss you, her full lips meeting yours warmly as if the affection she felt for you has returned.

written by lily.

OMG CALM DOWN (i relate)

no lube, no protection, all night, all day, from the kitchen floor to the toilet seat, from the dining table to the bedroom, from the bathroom sink to the shower, from the front porch to the balcony, vertically, horizontally, quadratic, exponential, logarithmic, while i gasp for air, scream and see the light, missionary, cowgirl, reverse cowgirl, doggy, backwards, sideways, upside down, on the floor, in the bed, on the couch, on a chair, being carried against the wall, outside, in a train, on a plane, in the car, on a motorcycle, the the bed of a truck, on a trampoline, in a bounce house, in the pool, bent over, in the basement, against the window, have the most toe curling, back arching, leg shaking, dick throbbing, fist clenching, ear ringing, mouth drooling, ass clenching, nose sniffling, eye watering, eye rolling, hip thrusting, earthquaking, sheet gripping, knuckles cracking, jaw dropping, hair pulling, teeth jitterbug, mind blogging, soul snatching, overstimulating, vile, sloppy, moan inducing, heart wr

gifs cc: @apara-dise-penguin 🖤

Hey y'all, or whatever remains of you gremlins, if there ever were any. I'm not sure if I'm going to continue the Tara fics, but I'm working on a new Cairo fic (hopefully a series) to pass the time if I'll end up making more for Tara. I didn't really think I'd keep writing, but I found my muse in Cairo. I think she's really interesting, and I've cooked up a bit of the new series I'm working on. (sneak peak)

I hope my writing has at least improved somewhat, and that you'll look forward to this new series. Thanks for anyone who read my earlier works and liked them, see y'all soon.

This actually made me laugh so much

love your writing!!

CLINGYGRUMPYJENNA X READER!!

plsplsplsplspls

Summary: Co-workers in public, lovers in private 🙌🏼, while shooting for Wednesday, J gets really stressed, and craves for R's intimacy, but can't have that yet until break of dawn, so J basically gets sooo annoyed with anyone who tries talking to her that isn't R.

the waiting game

Pairing: Jenna Ortega x Gn!Reader

Summary: request!! ^^

Words: 4.8k

Warnings: fluf, grumpy & clingy jenna!

a/n: caught basically the nastiest cold for a whole week, but im back! sorry requests taking too long, tryna to balance everything rn but it all will be done soon!!!!

masterlist.

Jenna hasn’t seen you in almost 4 hours, 36 minutes, and 4 fucking seconds. 

Yes, she counted, yes, it’s still ongoing, and, yes, she could almost murder someone with her bare hands if time even dares to pass by without you.

What makes matters worse is that she's terribly sleep-deprived even with someone's arms wrapped around her night after night.

Of course, the aforementioned someone swirling in her head 24/7 is you. Her not-quite-lover in public but entirely her beloved behind closed doors.

If Jenna had it her way, she would’ve jumped off a building by now and hard-launched the both of you by herself just so she could get hugs, kisses, and your hand intertwined with hers all she wanted.

Obviously, the universe decides to be a stuck-up bitch just now in their 14 billion years of life, wanting nothing more than to see Jenna Marie Ortega suffer without having you.

But it's fine.

She could get through this.

If there's someone in the world that could handle a single day without your warm hugs and lovely kisses, whether it be on the cheek or the lips, it would be her. She didn't endure almost half a year seeing that godforsaken Wednesday dance to go completely insane without you.

— Is what she kept telling herself 30 seconds earlier before she broke down and almost turned to witchcraft if you don't appear in front of right her.

She could push through with it, like she always does. It's a simple routine that never got the best of her.

Wake up and have breakfast with the love of your life while prepping each other with kisses and whatnot, run to set for the both of you to act out a scene for a while, when break hits all Jenna has to do is intertwine her pinky with yours under the table, then do hair and makeup after, act out a scene then wrap it all up, lie to everyone for the 100th time that her house is just a few steps away from yours, hit a bakery on the way home or maybe an ice cream shop if Jenna feels peckish, break down the apartment door Jenna shares with you, run to the bedroom, and smother each other with kisses and cuddles. Maybe a makeout session if Jenna's lucky.

It's bliss then repeat.

But today just so happens to be the day that Jenna takes over the whole episode, doing stunts and everything with little to no cuts for side characters.

She'd think that you would have nothing to do than act out your scenes—with her—might she add and it'll be all fine and the nights she'd spent waking up at 3 in the morning would be all's well.

But no, unfortunately you were the epitome of the perfect person and everyone just has to drag you around to who knows where to deal with some difficulties.

Plus, the both of you woke up late so she didn't even get the full girlfriend treatment she always got in the morning.

It was completely unfair!

Jenna was tired, grumpy, a bit too snappy, desperate for your attention, and she misses you. Alot.

And by that she means she misses the way you would wrap your arms around her after a busy day of filming together, pull her close, and feel the way how her lips fits perfectly on yours.

She would've dragged you back to bed and cuddle with you if she knew what was about to happen. Every second not spent with you is absolutely meaningless in her book.

Unfortunately, she has to play the waiting game.

She's fucking losing it.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It was 11 PM on a Thursday night.

Jenna is really so fucking tired, she could almost snap.

She had almost endured five to six hours of you nowhere even near her. The most she even interacted with you on set was when the both of you were acting a scene then abruptly got cut because of technical difficulties.

Plus, everyone but you was talking to her as if she was some kind of star! (she is.)

Jenna almost wished for an accident, or maybe a wardrobe malfunction that leads her to discovering some sort of new allergy about herself, just so she could be rushed off to the hospital and have you fussing over her, then maybe you could hold her hand and kiss her as if she would heal.

"How's it going, Ree—"

"Literally, I mean this in the nicest way possible, shut the fuck up Georgie."

He doesn't respond immediately, his eyes wide open as he steps back in surrender with his hands up in the air. "Ooooohkay!"

The brunette's head shot up immediately, her eyes burning and her shoulders slumped as she sank further into her chair for what felt like the millionth time.

"I... I didn't mean that, I'm so sorry." She closed her eyes shut, rubbing her temples, "I'm doing fine." She reassured herself more than anyone else, gripping the armchair for support.

"Biggest lie ever."

"You caught in Jenna's crossfire too, Emma?

"Oh damn, even Moosa?"

As if on cue, the whole cast decides to join in the damn conversation. Jenna loved them all, really, but it would've been so much better if a certain someone also joined and not far off into the distance talking to one of the editors.

Come on, would it literally kill you to question yourself why half of the cast was surrounding practically the love of your life while you're standing like 10 feet away!?

"You seem tense, J."

"Something wrong?"

"You've been staring at us for an hour with that Kubrick Stare of yours."

Who's exactly talking to her? Georgie, Emma, Moosa, it's all in that order but their voices seemed deranged, and it couldn't be any more worse when she's been trying to catch your eye for what seemed like the past hour.

She couldn't take shit when she's horribly missing you. So, she bites, and raises her voice more than she should, "Should I close my eyes to spare you the terrible fucking horror? Fuck, man!"

Jenna let an exasperated sigh escape from her mouth as she rose to her feet, eyeing the group with probably the most intense stare someone could bear witness to. She half-expected she'd get another pain-in-the-ass comeback from atleast one of them, but she was met with unusual silence.

The three look practically horrified, as if they were seeing the fictional idea of Wednesday Addams in the form of a 5'1, 22 year old woman dressed as her. Like they have the small but terrible quote running gears in their heads.

She heard them in unison muttering quiet apologies, "Sorry, Jenna…"

Her mind told her to forgive them for whatever they did, but her heart told her y/n.

"No, no it's fine." The brunette shook her head, her words forming icicles on each synonym and her eyes were like seeing inside of a storm. Without the peaceful atmosphere of an eye, clearly. "I'm just... stressed. Is Y/n free?"

Emma tilted her head to the side, "Actually, I never really saw them that much today, no?" She exchanged glances with the both of them.

"Heard they're busy with the tech team," Georgie crossed his arms, "Even for an actor, they've got a skill to be a director with how familiar they are behind the scenes."

Moosa nodded in agreement, "Yeah, they've been pretty tied up with all the technical stuff lately. Must be exhausting."

For fuck sakes, why did you have to be the most perfect and talented goddamn person?

"Why you looking for them?"

Jenna definitely did not need another goddamn voice entering her goddamn space.

She could almost roll her eyes and flip everybody off if not for Joy and the others being the most precious co-stars of them all.

"Because!" Jenna exclaimed, her voice cracking while lifting her arms in the air, "Y/n's my fucking lov...-"

Oh, shit.

"Lov...?"

"...Lovely neighbor." She blinked. "They... They bake me some cookies whenever I get in a bad mood."

Oh to fucking hell with this lovers in private bullshit. Lovely neighbor, that was the best damn excuse she could come up with?

"Well, heard they went home early because of an emergency, but it's kinda pouring out—"

It was in Jenna and Jenna alone on how insanely and horrifyingly fast she bolted out of the conversation, quickly changed clothes, thanking to the literal heavens (fuck the universe, Jenna will die on this hill) that Tim wrapped up early.

Josh. Josh was always the one you manage to bring up to be one of the most carefree guys in set, it's certain that he knew wherever the fuck you went. Actually, you always looked so happy whenever you talked to her about Josh and how much he lends with whatever left over set pieces they had, it's almost insane that you were—

"Aliyah, I'd tell you to shut up and fuck off as of this moment but I am literally too tired to even say that, what!?"

"Jenna, where the hell is your hoodie you wore on Christmas Eve!? I literally told you like an hour before your half-assed reply to tell me where'd you put your clothes."

Of course her sisters, more specifically Aliyah Goddamn Ortega, would find the most perfect timing to call her about the stupidest shit there could ever be.

"Okay, now, fuck off."

Jenna grimaced through gritted teeth as she hung up. She loved her sister, but does she love you more? Absolutely.

"Josh!" She called out, running towards him, "Sorry, kind of abrupt, but do you know where Y/n went?" Atleast she had some decency left in her to be polite to some.

"Actually—"

"Let one more word come out of your mouth not related to my question, and I swear, Josh—"

"Y/n left early, they told me to tell you but I guess I forgot."

Maybe a little too carefree.

"You fucking guess!?— I mean, yes, thank you. I’ll be going."

Oh, the waiting game is a pain in the ass.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You pace back and forth in Jenna's apartment, your socks making a dent in the fuzzy carpet in the living room Jenna bought when you moved in with her, a nail in between your teeth and rain pouring in the background.

How in the hell did you forget possibly all your devices on fucking set!?

Your phone was dead, and your laptop was unfortunately abandoned by its owner (yours truly) and you have no way of contacting your lovely girlfriend.

And worse of all, it was a little over midnight.

All this because you got a notification that someone was at the door for an hour.

And it was just a fucking cat. (To be fair, they were really cute.)

You were starting to worry, especially how it was pouring outside like there was a hurricane incoming and how you left early without Jenna intertwining her warm and soft hands around yours.

So not only did you leave all your devices behind, but you also left Jenna without any means of contacting you.

You almost cursed yourself, maybe even doing the most stupidest and financially unstable decision of ordering a new phone as if it was going to be delivered same day.

Until you heard a slight click and a door opening.

There were times thunder struck, but it definitely did not beat the way your heart almost leaps into your throat as you hear the door opening.

You pause in your steps, a deep breath stuck in your mouth as you cross the living room and peer through the door way.

The door swung open and you're met with the, one of the most gorgeous and relieving sights you may add, of Jenna standing there. Slightly damp and with an... angry? Expression on her face.

"Jenna!" You blurted out, rushing over to her and enveloping her in a tight hug. "Did Josh fill you in? I feel terrible for getting home early, I'm so sorry. There was this whole thing I had to deal with, then the rain came pouring down, and I thought I'd at least get you a cab—"

"Shh. Just stay still. And preferably quiet."

When she's in your arms, she melts in the warmth of the comfort you bring to her. "Guess you caught the cab." You whisper under your breath.

You notice her breathing slowing down, the tension in her body easing away, a gentle smile playing on her lips as she buries her head in your neck. A sway the both of you took upon as she tugged at your chest with her hands wrapped around your body.

Jenna felt and smelled like home. Maybe heaven really is real if you're back in her arms after death.

"Is everything okay? Did something go down on set while I was away? Oh, Jenna, I'm so—" You start to pull back, placing your hands on her shoulders.

"Y/n, push me away, I fucking dare you, I'll bring down hell upon this godforsaken world."

You hesitate, but her gaze wants nothing more than to be in your arms. Who were you to deny her?

With a gentle squeeze of her shoulders, you pull her back into your arms. You weren't much taller than Jenna, in fact, just an inch or two apart. You loved that about eachother, like the two of you were a perfect fit.

Minutes pass, the only sound of the soft rhythm of Jenna's breathing and your heartbeat became a melody to your ears.

"I'm gonna hard launch the both of us right fucking now."

Well, that definitely caught you off-guard.

"Something happened?"

"You weren't on set for like hours! And everyones got too damn annoying for my ears to even process so I was trying to look for you, but then I ended up insulting Emma and the others, then I called you my lovely neighbor because I almost ended up saying you're my lover so I had to cover for it!"

"...That's quite a handful. I'm sorry I wasn't there, baby."

Even so, you knew that Jenna wasn't ready for a public relationship, not now that everyone was currently holding her at a social and cyber gunpoint with her life.

And even back then, you were the first one in the relationship who told her that the both of you would be better off if they both kept it private.

Even from their friends... And maybe more so families. Or maybe Jenna's. It's pretty hard to keep secrets from her family.

Obviously, look how that turned out.

Finally, Jenna murmurs something. "Sorry. It's been a rough day." Then she adds, almost as an afterthought, "Just without you."

You could almost kill yourself of the mere thought of even having to leaving Jenna the whole day.

"I—"

"Don't worry, I know you were busy with tech."

"Yeah. They got me wrapped up in their troubles, but 's all fine."

"Ever thought beating the complete shit out of them?"

"Jenna, you can't just say that!"

"But they've been literally hogging you from me! And I think that's completely unfair!"

"But you really shouldn't. You'd probably end up getting destroyed, especially with your height."

"Oh, but I definitely should. Besides, we're the same height, Y/n."

You laugh softly, shaking your head. "Okay, you know what, tempting as it sounds, I don't think violence is the answer."

She scoffs another time, a crease in her forehead. "Well, it's definitely an option worth considering."

After a moment of silence, you carry her to the living room, her legs dangling as you lift her from her feet and settle her onto the soft-cushioned couch.

You start to pull away once you set her down, stretching your body after a tense day, yet a certain someone was making grabby hands for you while shooting a look with her eyes begging you to stay.

"Y/n, don't you want to stay here with me?" She pulls you closer, locking her legs around yours.

Oh, Jenna knows damn well you couldn't resist her.

"Jenna, just relax," you gently tug her legs apart with your own, letting them fall as she permits, "I'll just get you some water."

She tugs at the hem of your shirt, "Then I'll come with!" Her smile almost comes back alive and she's already clinging onto your arm.

"Jenna. The love of my life."

"Y/n?"

"You're tired, stressed, snappy, grum—"

"Okay, I am not grumpy or snappy!" Jenna bites back almost immediately. "Why does everybody keep saying that?"

You shoot her a look. A yup-thats-why-look, and it's enough to get a pout to form on her lips.

"Grumpy, and you're still damp from the rain. I wouldn't be surprised if you wake up with a cold in the morning." You gently pat her head before sitting her back down. "I'll be quick, alright? You know I'm not going far just for a glass of water."

"Fine," Jenna huffs, "But you better hurry back! Ten seconds, tops!"

With a smile playing on your lips, you roll your eyes before making your way to the kitchen. And of course, Jenna's gaze from the couch was following you. You know patience was never Jenna's strong suit when it comes with you.

It wasn't even a few seconds before you heard,

"Y/nnnn!" Jenna's voice calls out from the living room, almost sounding like a groan and a whine.

It's almost amusing how someone as seemingly nonchalant yet sweet as Jenna could also be this puddle of affection and clinginess when it came to you.

You chuckle to yourself before quickly making your way back to her, holding out the glass of water for her.

"That was well over ten seconds." Jenna remarks, downing the water in one go before setting the glass on the coffee table. Then, she pulls you back towards her, and before you know it, you're both collapsing onto the couch.

"Well, I thought I did great." You say before Jenna tackles you into a very tight hug.

Leaning back against the cushions, you let out a sigh, feeling the everything slowly melting away when she's in your arms. Jenna inches closer, resting her head on your chest as you wrap an arm around her, holding her close.

"Hug me tighter, y/n." She murmurs softly, almost demanding if she didn't have a soft melody to her voice, her body warm against yours and her breathing seemed to be in sync with your own.

"You'll die if I do." You sigh contentedly.

Jenna lets out a huff, her breath warm against your skin and her scent was all too comforting. That earthy rain smell and her aromatic fragrance. "You know that I don't mind," she replies, "Of course you'd think I'd care if I died in your arms."

You laugh, shaking your head. "You're impossible, Jenna." You shake your head once against, ruffling her hair as you give her an extra squeeze before loosening your hold slightly to let her breathe.

"You want dinner?" You whisper to her after, not even above a decibel just for her to relax. "I didn't get the chance to stop by at the bakery."

"Please," comes Jenna's response.

You know what a full-on smile with dimples from her sounds and feels like when she has that hopeful and happy tune to her otherwise grumpy voice today.

You slowly pull yourself back up, gently pushing Jenna off your chest. And also unknowingly pulling a koala trapped in a 5'1, 22 year old body named Jenna Ortega clinging onto your back.

"Jenna."

She buries her head into the crook of your neck, eyes half-lidded. "Mmm… Yeah?" It's honestly surprising how she can actually and literally attach herself to you.

"Jenna, you have to let go so I can cook." Even as you ask her to release herself, you adjust to her weight on your back, carefully making your way to the kitchen, your hands securely holding onto her legs.

"You can cook just fine, Y/n," she whines, "You have two arms."

"And you," you reply, gently patting her legs, "have two legs and two arms. I can't cook with you piggybacking, baby."

You can tell the nickname made her smile. "Yeah, but I don't have a built-in Y/n in my system that I can cuddle with all day. So please just let me be."

"No, Jenna—You're gonna get hurt."

You reach the kitchen and gently lower Jenna from her back, setting her down on the kitchen island.

Her arms still lingered around your neck for a moment before she reluctantly, and against her will so it seems, lets go. "You know how frantic I am when I cook."

"Then maybe, you're not a good cook."

"I'm trying to keep my girlfriends, which is you, may I add, life out of harms way."

"Maybe that's the reason why you're not a good cook."

"Jenna."

Grabby hands, once again, making a return and tugging you by your shirt collar. But this time, you resist.

"Whyyyyyyy?" she whines, her bottom lip jutting out in a Jenna Ortega fashionable pout. "Do you hate me, Y/N?"

You roll your eyes playfully before booping her on the tip of her nose. "I'm cooking you a meal to show that I love you, baby." You pull back yourself and put on an apron standing off side to the fridge, Jenna's gaze could almost burn holes into the fabric.

"Okay." She sighs, dropping her head down. "Okay, fine! Can I just hold your hand?" She looks up to see you standing in front of her, wearing the cutest apron with the well-known kiss the chef quote.

A faint blush spreads across her freckled face, and you couldn't help but smile at her.

You can't really cook with one hand that properly. But if Jenna wants you to cook for her even if you had your hands surgically removed from your body, then so fucking be it. A few missing limbs can't top a few smiles from your girlfriend.

"Alright, baby." You place take her hand and lead her to the stove where it seemed like you've got everything prepared. "Just get behind me when there's oil splashing, mkay?"

A few minutes pass by with Jenna's hand in yours while you cook. Her head leans against your shoulder as she stands close.

Between the two of you, Jenna was always the one who takes over the cooking part of the relationship, no matter how much you insist cooking for her. But you're grateful and very fortunate now that she's allowing you to take over. Plus, Jenna keeps you entertained with her witty remarks and random stuff about her day.

Oh, what a life you're living in.

"You didn't cook for yourself?" Jenna's voice interrupts your thoughts as you plate a serving of salmon topped with herbs, accompanied by sliced lemon and a few kiwis. With the skin left on, of course, just how she likes it. Only for your loving girlfriend.

You shake your head, taking her hand and her plate in the other, leading her to the dining table. "I'm good. I had a late lunch earlier," you reply, gently placing the plate on the table and sitting her down. "Besides, it's not often I get to cook for you. It wouldn't be as special if I cooked for myself too."

Jenna's eyes almost appear teary as she looks at you. "Please never show yourself again in public. I seriously cannot lose you." She replied almost immediately.

If you didn't miss it, you would've seen the adoration and love shining in Jenna's gaze. It's as if she wants to ditch the meal entirely and cover your face with kisses.

You swear you probably ate a seed in your chest by how you kept feeling warmth bloom in your heart at her. "How can I do that if I'm an actor?" You chuckle, "They'd probably question you first if I disappear."

Jenna takes her fork and points it at you, slicing a piece of salmon with her spoon. "Hey, I've seen the tweets about people practically drooling over you. It's like they're your lover and not mine!"

You crease your forehead, crossing your arms, "You get more thirst tweets more than I do!"

"And I believe you contribute to that percentage." She raises one eyebrow, smirking at your direction before chewing on another piece of salmon. It wasn't a question, it was a statement.

A factual one at that.

You almost choke at your own words. "Oh, you know me so well."

A sigh escapes your lips, your smile still in place. "Besides, we're not exactly public, are we?" Leaning in, you draw Jenna into your own little world. "You're the only one who gets the real me. If I leave, I'll cross my heart on my own and I'll die on my own."

Jenna looks at you while taking a bite of her salmon, chewing slowly as if she's contemplating something, a tug in her lips. "Mn, guess so."

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You'd think you'd get some work done, maybe memorize future scripts or send out some emails to directors asking if you could audition for a show at one in the morning.

Instead, you're lying in bed with Jenna.

Or maybe a koala in this case.

In bed. Blankets over the both of you. Pillow's a bit too comfy to even think about getting up. Plus, the koala in question may or may not have hidden your phone and charger.

Jenna wasn't always a light sleeper. Sometimes, you'd wake up in the middle of the night to find her sitting up with a blanket draped over her entire body, furiously typing away in her notes app. It's endearing, but also makes you wonder if she's ever dabbled in witchcraft.

Now, she's wide awake to even be one.

Her eyes closed and her breathing steady enough to lull you asleep. The atmosphere is cozy, and so is your girlfriend laying atop of you.

Her arms were wrapped around yours for the millionth time while her head rests on her favorite part of your chest, her head staring off to the side as if she's trying to hear your heartbeat.

You thought she'd be passed out after dinner, but she dragged you by the cuffs of your hoodie and lead you to the bedroom.

"Jenna," you whisper not above even the slightest decibel, "I have work to do." The gentle rise and fall of her chest steadies in sync with yours, her head tilting slightly in the other way, and the grip she has on your body suddenly got tighter. It's already as if you'll fly away from her.

She huffs as she raises her head to face yours. "Your work—whatever that is—can wait, but I can’t." The room is dim, too dim, yet you could see the slight dip in her bottom lip.

You know you should focus, but with her so close, it's hard to think about anything else other than, 'Nah, fuck it. I'll live.'

You bring your hands up to cup her cheeks, gently brushing her messy fringe away from her face. Even in this dim light, you could see her freckles scattered across her face like vines making something so abandoned a painting.

Jenna sighs when she looks at you. "Y/n, how long are you gonna keep me playing the waiting game?"

"The waiting game? What even is that—"

"Can you kiss me?"

Oh. Her eyes become almost second nature to her words.

"Because I remember being woken up to the most gorgeous person ever but they didn't give me kisses, and I think—mpmhmmh..."

It took all your effort not to pull her into a kiss.

Obviously, your efforts were in vain.

Truth be told, you miss the way her lips hung on yours, she was perfect in every way. How her arms would wrap around you, how she'd reach up to tug on your jawline, tracing every thing you had offered her, how you would push back only for her to pull you closer.

The kiss soon ended with you and Jenna locking eyes. No words exchanged but the heavy breath the both of you took apart from eachother.

"—I think I might die..." Her words are breathless, her arms perfectly secured around your neck as you sit up.

You smile at her. "Well, I kept you alive, didn't I?"

"No," she breathes, taking hold of your cheeks before sitting up herself. "No, I'm still six feet underground if you don't continue what you were doing."

"You know, I'm starting to like the waiting game."

"Make me play that shit again, it'll be the last time you'll ever make a decision."

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

jennaortega

Liked by ememyers and 1,398,938 others jennaortega goodnight to my gorgeous gorgeous girl @.y/l/n x 6 hours ago

natalieortega1: My fav girls!

joysunday: what lovely neighbors we have here

ememyers: !?@#%%#?!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

user: WE FUCKING KNEW IT

moosa_mostafa_: we never knew....

user: MY??????? MY???????? WHAT MY WHY MY?????????????????????

user: now how long....

georgieebleu: the coolest ever

user: WHATS IT FINNA PLAY??????

naomijogawa: two losers having a loser rs

user: having a heart attack holYHIST WHAT HT FUCK

user: literally stop.

hunterdoohan: Respect!!!!

user: shit so insane she got the whole cast to comment

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

In short, Jenna won. Plus, she got all the kisses and cuddles she wanted until the alarm hit. (When it did, your name was surprisingly all over social media along with Jenna.)

This is so beautiful🥹

can you keep a secret?

pairing: wednesday addams x fem reader

summary: you miss your girlfriend who's recently transferred to nevermore academy. your persistent whining is able to transfer you to nevermore and cling onto her the whole time there.

word count: 5k+

based off request!

-

W and R are in a relationship, W transfers to Nevermore. W and R may not have anything in common, but they do on some things, like R being an outcast as well (a werewolf ), R insists their parents that they transfer to Nevermore too. After they successfully did, R immediately finds W, the outcast's curious to what'll happen to R (obvi doesn't know they knew each other).. Basically every student in Nevermore sees them together everyday. One, asks W who R is to W, she answers truthfully, "They're My Lover." everything and everyone just goes crazy

-

“Cara mia, we live next to each other,” Wednesday says softly, brushing your hair back as you braid her black silky hair.

You hum, a little sad, finishing to braid her two tiny braids that hung low to her chest.

“But I won’t see you in school, baby." A huff escapes your lips as your girlfriend sighs, giving up on trying to coax your madness.

“Or at all,” you add, “you’ll have a damn dorm with some girl that you’ve never seen before. It’s not fair.”

The raven-haired girl rolls her eyes, “I’ll cut off my heart with the sharpest knife I know if I ever started to love someone more than you,” Wednesday suggests, trying to make you feel better.

She cups your cheeks as you refuse to speak and rubs her thumb gently around the pink tint covering them. A way to always make you feel better. Yet she knows better because you certainly don’t look better.

“We’re both outcasts Weds. My stupid parents just won’t allow me to transfer because they think Nevermore is weird. Yet they went to school there. That's not fair."

“They’re just trying to protect you. I'd feel that way too for our daughter if Nevermore had hurt me. If someone ever hurt you, they’re death will be a long one. Sufferable and miserable. So bad that they’ll beg for forgiveness before they bleed out.”

Usually Wednesday would expect you to smile and giggle, but you’re not. Why does your girlfriend have to leave you?

“Can’t you stay?” You ask, voice tiny.

“As much as I sneak out, Mother has already informed everyone including your parents not to let me stay the night. They are used to my.. Tactics per say.”

Your sharp nails from your growth as a soon to be wolfed out werewolf emerges, clawing the wood you attached to your wall when this kind of stuff happens.

"I can sneak you in and I'll even build you a door in my closet," you suggest.

"No, Y/N."

"What if we install a life-like robot and I'll sneak out with you?"

"No."

You huff angrily, slashing the wood.

Wednesday firmly takes your hand, and your hand almost scratches her, yet it stops as you don’t want to hurt her, “Stop that.”

“No,” you state, tugging your hand away and sinking them into the wood, so hard that a big ass dent forms.

Your girlfriend sighs, rolling her eyes as she sweeps her bangs away from her eyes, “I don’t know what you want me to do bambina. Maybe I could.. Sneak you away from this horrid place. But at what cost? Nevermore seems strange. Not strange in a way I’d want to discover in mysteries though.”

She sees the way you sigh, disappointed. Upset.

“You’ll be there for a whole school year, it’s far.”

“I’ll bring my typewriter. Distance won’t change that, swear on my cemetery. I’ll write you letters at night, secretly take the principal's mailbox and send them to you. Or I’ll threaten Thing in my backpack and crawl till he can give it to you.” Wednesday isn’t kidding, her stare is cold, well usually it was cold, but not towards you. “He can suffer in thorns, I’ll stitch him up, just as long as.. You’ll write back?”

You nod, yet you don’t care about the letters, you care about her.

“You’ll send them?”

“Yes.”

“Every night?”

“Yes.”

“What if you begin to stop when you feel like it’s not working anymore?”

“I won’t Y/N.”

“You can’t know that.”

“Oh, but I do.”

"No you don't, you don't know the future."

"But I do know that I won't stop sending my letters. I can feel it."

You stop scratching the wood and you bury yourself on Wednesday, breathing in her scent as you try to comfort yourself. Yet even when the lights are off, your heart is pounding, feeling alone.

-

A tear falls from your cheek as you watch Lurch stuff his trunk, Wednesday talking to her mother and father, while hesitantly hugging Pugsley. 

“You’ll have so much fun.” Morticia says, with a smile, kissing her cheek and staining it slightly with her black lipstick.

“Define fun as boring and a punishment, sure,” Wednesday stiffly responds, yet softens as she looks at you. She takes her mother’s hand off her shoulder and approaches you.

“If you cry, it'll be raining all day. And you don't want it to be all gloomy for you? I don't want my socks wet. A poem, along with two pages written in a small font. One to express my day, and one to express that stupid love so you can sleep peacefully at night with nightmares.” Wednesday says, stopping for a moment, “sweet nightmares,” she adds.

You nod, yet your tear stained cheeks aren’t really helping, she reaches up and wipes it off with her thumb. Then let you hug her, you immediately bury yourself into her and she sighs.

“I’ll be thinking of you, till every grain of sand can be counted.”

You watch her approach the car, then slip in. She has the window scroll down, and you look at her. As the car engine roars, you bite your lip. And slowly watch it wheel away. Slowly jogging till it’s out of sight.

-

It’s been two weeks. And sure enough, Wednesday has kept her promise. She’s sent you letters you’ve kept in your drawer, they’re never repetitive, but always show you love. You like it like that, knowing that it isn’t a chore for her to write letters for you. If anything, they’ve lengthened in size as she's sent more and more.

It makes you miss her a little more. You have to hug your life-sized stuffed animal at night that she sprayed her perfume on. She also left half a bottle on your counter, just in case it runs out. Though it takes longer to sleep, it makes you feel a little better knowing there was something that was like a piece of her beside you.

Thing has visited you, and you know that little guy has a huge memory. You lost the letter you were going to hand Thing, and though you were a little sad, he moved his fingers and you realized you could speak to him for hours and he would tell Wednesday every detail. She had even wrote to you,

~

I owe Thing a thank you, yet he can be provoking at times. He had communicated to me for an hour, thirty minutes, and thirty two seconds about your day. I always wonder what secrets lay in the Addams Family. Yet I’m not quite comprehending why Thing has a big memory space.

Nonetheless, I think about you everyday. My roommate, Enid, has been unpleasant with her interesting taste of fashion and colors. It’s distracting. In a negative way. You’re distracting in a way where I can’t take my eyes off your enticing figure Y/N. Weems had bothered me the whole day, smothered me with questions and made sure I was doing fine. No wonder why mother got along with her so much. Those two are like the same person just one with smothered ink. But, something that sparked my particular interest was that you can dorm with two other people. Thing had told me that there was an accident at your school. If you’d like, which I’d appreciate, could ask your mother about transferring, say it’s dangerous. You aren’t a late wolfer, but convince her possibly that Nevermore can increase your chances. Wish you were here, I hate Mr. Tuesday. That white bunny is always staring at me during my typing time. But I can tolerate him a bit more, knowing you gifted it to me. You love Mr. Tuesday, so I appreciate your gesture. It’s not often I get visions, but they’ve almost made me want to experience them more. I see you in them, baking. Writing to me. It makes me almost happy.

Enid keeps trying to get to know me, she’s a strange soul, but she’s a werewolf, like you. You two are nothing alike, yet I think you two would get along a bit too much. Except you don’t blast random glitter pop music during the night. During my WRITING TIME. Even thinking about it rots my brain. But I miss you cariño. Sleep tight, I’ve left at least 300 things to hide in your house and you’ll never expect where they are. But everyone is special, it’ll make you at least smile a little when I tell you each night. Today’s item is snuck inside your bed, I used Mother’s chainsaw to cut through the wood, it’s a tiny version of Mr. Tuesday. I asked Thing the other day to sneak it in that spot and he sanded the wood back in. It should be a sort of door. But I crocheted it during my free time, there are times where I can’t think during my writing time. That is an understatement, but I only think of you. But I’m hoping you can enjoy it for today.

Love you, sleep cozily,

Weds

-

You smile as you look under your bed, now noticing the small outline from Wednesday’s chainsaw and you open the little compartment to see another crocheted white bunny of Mr. Tuesday. You nuzzle it and place it on your desk. You love him. You even spent a few minutes grabbing white yarn and attaching it to your tote bag.

You think about what Wednesday said, someone had gotten hurt in your school from being stabbed by a senior that was drunk. Obviously he didn’t mean it. But you had seen how anxious your mom got when she found out the news.

It was 11:23PM, and your mom’s room light was illuminated from the hallway. You get out of bed, ruffle your hair, and approach her room. Your only thought is Wednesday.

-

Before you could even ask, you already noticed her holding a black card, the logo of Nevermore Academy apparent. It said in bolded letters, 1965 Jericho’s long lasting Nevermore Academy. One for outcasts.

“Mom?” You said, your voice slowly quiet, and she looked up at you, waving you over.

“Hi honey,” she replies, “I’ve been thinking about the accident at your school. And I know you don’t like that place that much. And as much as I feel like I should keep you there. Your safety is important to me.”

Your excitement grows, you want to have that wide smile off your face.

“So?...” You question, wondering if she was saying what you were thinking she meant.

“And you keep bringing Wednesday up. So me and Morticia talked, and I talked with your father. We’re going to send you to Nevermore, but only if you want to. As long as you write to us every end of the week and call us. We want our little wolf to meet ones like her. It’s not often you find ones like us here.”

You nod.

“Yes!”

You didn't even think it would be that easy.

-

As soon as you get the news you squeal and call Wednesday early in the morning. She responds almost quickly, her voice on the other line, “What brings you to call me this early Y/N?”

“I’m transferring to Nevermore!” You say, you were much more excited but your tired voice betrayed you.

There’s a pause, then a small, “What?”

“I’m coming!”

A laugh and you can almost feel your girlfriend smiling with a toothy grin with her ear pressed to the phone.

“I knew your parents would let you go somehow,” she says, voice more excited, yet anyone else would not notice but you.

You can hear some rustling, “I’m going to ask Weems if you can dorm with me. I can kick Enid out for all I care, yet she isn’t horrible. Just, I’d rather spend it with you if she doesn’t allow a three dorm. Maybe I shouldn’t bring up a three dorm at all.”

“Thing, go back home and ask Father if Lurch can drive Y/N to Nevermore. Actually, include that if he won’t ask, I’ll shave his head off. Also make sure that he sprays two times of her favorite perfume, have her favorite sour candy ready, her headphones, her books, and tell him to pack some melon milk for her too. And her cow stuffie. Make sure he’s playing the playlist she made that’s saved in the car.”

There is a pause, and she makes a small, ‘oh oh’

“Baby,” Wednesday doesn’t call you that much, but when she does you’re over the moon. It usually shows that she’s happy. Really happy, yet her voice is still soft and composed, “I installed a door behind your clothes in your closet, guess we’ll unwrap the 300 presents when we go home. But I got another Mr. Tuesday there, he has some sort of costume on.” 

She pauses, you hear a random girl jumping up and down in the background, squealing about something as your girlfriend groans and presses her ear back into her phone, sending Enid an annoyed glare, “Pack your stuff, I’ll be waiting. I might as well cut my ears off if Enid won’t stop blabbing her mouth off.” You can tell that Wednesday turns her head to face her new roommate, she says louder, since Enid couldn’t hear her talking to you, “Better yet, slice her mouth off.” Then Enid’s squeals die down.

You grin through the phone as you grab out another version of Mr. Tuesday with a mushroom hat, you hug him tight.

The doorbell rings and you hear your mom open it, putting Wednesday on speaker phone.

“I’m almost done packing.”

“Y/N, honey. Mrs. Addams requests to see you,” your mother’s voice echoes through the hallway and you glance at the door.

You don’t know how Wednesday can hear it but she does, “I’m taking into conclusion that she received my message. Oh yes, she replied with those stupid icons. Yet it is one of a thorny rose and a gravestone.”

“Coming!” You stuff your bags, “Be right back.”

-

You almost choke as Morticia brings you into her embrace, hugging her back with an easing gentleness.

“Hello little one,” her soft voice says, the one you find comfort in as much as you do Wednesday’s. She gently rubs your hair, “I informed Lurch for your arrival, he’s outside whenever you’ll be ready dear. I’m so glad you decided to willingly join Nevermore. It has been a place that holds many memories. It’s where I met Gomez and fell in love. Maybe Wednesday and you can find the secrets in it. Go on journeys with her. Dig some graves, set them on fire."

It weird you out, but you smile, nodding, “To spend it with Wednesday is all I need.”

“You’re a special soul, a pure heart I can handle. Now go,” she waves you away, “Don’t keep him waiting for long.”

You give her one last grin and look over your shoulder before turning the corner.

-

After hanging up on Wednesday when you finish packing all your bags, your mother and father hug you goodbye and give you your favorite cranberry juice. Sweet.

It’s cozy in the Addams car, comfortingly with no talk, just the music Wednesday requested (forced) Lurch to play that lingers in your playlist. You feel like a butler with all the requests Wednesday smothered him with.

An hour passes and you can see the way the clouds slightly come into view, then you see the environment change as a sign that reads, “Welcome to Jericho! A Town of History”

Then, you finally see the academy in view, and Lurch arrives right in front, before taking your bags and guiding you to Principal Weems.

“It is my honor to have you here at Nevermore. This school has history, and where you’ll certainly grow,” her smile is wide, a little too welcoming it gets a little scary.

You just give small mumbles and nods, “Well, Morticia called me this morning and I quickly looked through your demographics. It also isn’t a coincidence that you have straight A’s. A 4.3 GPA. Many extracurriculars, and of course, you’re a werewolf. I see.”

“It is no surprise also that you had gone to the same school as another student who just enrolled, Morticia’s daughter, Wednesday. She sure is.. Different. But nonetheless talented. She had asked me yesterday afternoon if it was possible to have a dorm of three, and I’m assuming that you have been planning to dorm with her for the rest of the semester?”

She reads your mind, you immediately nod your head up and down, “Yes.”

“Well, most of the 3 dorms have been occupied, but her and Enid seem to have a slow relationship. I’ll have her in my office today, but by the end of the night or tomorrow morning I’ll give you my answer.” Weems scribbles on a note, writes some address and a name, “You’ll be rooming with Yoko, sound okay?”

You nod.

“Alright, I’ll call Enid up, for your guide.”

“..Guide?”

She nods, “Of course, we have many classes you can do, and people you can meet. She knows this place well, and I know that she’ll open up your shell.”

-

As Wednesday watches Enid leave, a soft grin forms on her face as she unties Thing from the random crocheted pink jacket Enid made for him.

Her eyes scan Enid as the door closes, then she turns to him, “I’m expecting Y/N is here. I’ve crocheted a questionable amount of Mr. Tuesdays.” She informs, “I shouldn’t have admitted that,” Wednesday sighs, as she pulls out the drawer next to her to reveal at least 40 assorted sizes of the same bunny. There were some in outfits, wigs. Wednesday almost finds it as therapeutic as her writing time. She crochets them whenever Enid leaves their dorm.

Thing smacks his head, and the braided girl glares at him, “Don’t judge me, I can cut off your fingers any time,” she threatens, seeing the way Thing surrendered with two fingers up in the air.

Then he moves around his fingers and does random hand movements.

“You think I’d follow Enid and try to make conversation with Y/N so much that Enid will get suspicious? You’d really think I’d do that?” 

Thing agrees.

“Then, you know me too well, let’s go.”

-

“Enid, glad you’re- Wednesday? It seems like you’ve tagged along,” Weems adds as she almost seems surprised, looking at her. If anything, the look in her eye is cautious.

“Yes,” Wednesday responds, trying to avoid the way your eyes almost smile as you look at her, but if anyone else were to look at you, they wouldn’t notice. “I’ve decided to accompany Enid, this is much more exciting than some other events at Nevermore,” she adds again, not entirely rude.

You sit in the middle while Wednesday takes the only left seat available, scooches her chair closer. Her hand rubs over yours after meeting under the covers of Weem’s desk. She takes note of how a small smile creeps on your face when Weem talks because of that.

“This is actually so awesome,” the blonde cheers next to you, making you turn your head and turn it, confused.

“We’re both werewolves silly! We should dorm 3 together! Wait, are there even any 3 dorms left?” When the principal shakes her head no, Enid sighs, “Then Wednesday can pair with Yoko. Actually, she barely even talks to Yoko, let alone handle her better than she’ll be able to handle me.”

You blink, glance at Wednesday for a moment and she shakes her head frantically.

“What if I dorm with her?”

The question leaves everyone silent, well everyone is surprised but Wednesday.

“You’d want to room with Wednesday while Enid rooms with Yoko?”

There's a lingering silence as you look around, “Why not? I'd like to get to know her better,” you lie. The most you want to do is get to talk to your girlfriend again.

"Oh. You don't want to, you know, get to know Wednesday before actually having to dorm with her?"

"Nope."

"Well, then that’s settled for your dorm. I’ll have to file Enid for a dorm change. But I’d like to ask if that is okay for both Wednesday and Enid.”

“Yes,” your girlfriend immediately responds, then coughs a little to cover up her excitement that’s masked behind her calm demeanor. “I can take a break from someone that is the complete opposite of me.

“I’d be happy to dorm with Yoko, at least I can have my music playing at night and my glitter-”

“My ears are bleeding Enid, don’t mention that word you just said.”

“Glitter?” Enid questions.

“No.”

You giggle from your girlfriend’s demeanor, squeezing her hand under the desk.

-

“This is Ophiela Hall! You don’t need to find your people here, you can make plenty of friends in other groups, but you have a group of werewolves! And what makes it even better is that we haven’t wolfed out!” Enid jumps up and down and you watch her legs bounce up and down, up and down. She’s like a whole party.

People give you two small looks, both you and Wednesday can tell they’re almost surprised she tagged along with someone whos new. It makes you smile a little.

Your girlfriend notices them whispering about you. Not anything bad, you seem like the sweetest person out of them all, but they’re whispering about the two of you. Even Bianca gives you a cautious look, but you’re too distracted to know what their saying as Enid keeps talking to you and dragging you along. Wednesday follows like a puppy.

“Enid, hey.” A boy speaks up, and you turn around at the new voice, he’s wearing blue and a beanie. The same tie everyone is wearing.

“Oh hi Ajax, this is Y/N. She’s new and I’m showing her around.”

A glare is thrown at Ajax as your girlfriend exhales. You give a small wave, “Hi.”

“You a werewolf too?”

You nod, seeing the way his hat kind of turns sideways, poking some peeking out snakes back into it. That’s scary.

The bell rings and you look around, confused, Enid grabs the paper you stuck in your bag.

“Oh, hey! Your next class is with Wednesday and I, it’s just plant anatomy with Thornhill. Come on.”

-

Somehow Wednesday gets Xaiver to move away from her, so now you’re sitting next to her.

“What the hell is this class?”

“Thornhill just talks about plants. The only entertaining aspect of this is that I like seeing Bianca fail to beat me. Though that goes in almost everything.”

The auburn hair girl turns around, with a wide smile and fairly big glasses for the size of her head.

“It’s a pleasure to have a new student, I’m glad to have you in our third period class Y/N.”

You embarrassingly smile, everyone looking at you, some with smiles and some with just small glances. 

“Could you give us the formula on how to turn this plant into a…” Thornhill goes on and you look at the plant, it seems it’s a Ghost Orchid.

You answer almost immediately, and Wednesday nudges you with her foot to almost say a ‘yay.’

Bianca stares at you as Thronhill clasps her hands together, “Exactly, you know your plants well. I’m sure you’ll excel here. Today we’ll have a change of assignments. It’ll be a challenge for duos against other duos and whoever answers first, and correctly for that fact, will earn a point till all the questions run out. Sound easy enough? Alright, let me get my cards ready.”

A knowing smirk grows in between you two, “We’ll win in no time,” Wednesday states, you look at the duos. It’s you and her, Enid and Yoko, Bianca and Divina, and other people you have no clue about, including Xaiver.

The game starts and before Thornhill can even get to the end of the question, you and Wednesday slap the bell, giving out the answer.

“Quick hands,” Xavier mumbles.

“That’s correct! Great job girls.”

The game goes on, and you’re tied with Bianca’s team. The silence can be cut with a knife as the two duos anticipately wait for the question. As Thornhill begins to read out the question, it takes you two a while to know the answer. Bianca and Divina seem stuck.

It’s several moments before the learning in your past catches up to you, slamming the bell and saying out the answer.

“Correct once again! You two win, great job! You can grab a succulent or stick to two pieces of candy that’s probably expired at the end of class.”

You and Wednesday high-five and to say the least, everyone is surprised because the braided-hair girl never let’s anyone touch her.

-

Weeks have past, and you’ve never been happier. Giving ideas for Wednesday’s stories that even she never thought about, helping her crochet more Mr. Tuesdays, so much that she had thing steal a laundry basket from Weem’s office, and even braid her hair and put black ribbons. She’s grateful to have you at Nevermore, her stories have been expanding because of you.

Your always stuck to her side, fencing playfully with her, even willing to go out in the woods with her. But she hasn’t went out since your arrival, knowing that you wouldn’t want to leave her side, and she certainly doesn’t want you getting hurt.

Even you and her worked together designing a matching cat on your black and white pajamas.

It’s fun when you two get to talk about life when you two are in your dorms, even better when you two are on the balcony and watching the stars. Wednesday plays the cello while you sing. She loves that she has someone that she puts her closed-off personality aside for.

“I love it, you look so pretty with bows baby,” you say, tying the ribbon.

“You look pretty with bows or without cara mia.” 

“Shut ‘p,” you say, smacking her arm lightly as she wraps her arms around you and rubs your hair.

It’s not long till Weems announce that it’s time for lunch.

Wednesday gets up, signalling you to come with her, but when you don’t, she comes back to sit next to you.

“I’m just looking for my necklace, you can go ahead, it won’t take long, promise.”

She sighs, and nods for a moment, then points at Thing, “Help her.”

Thing waves his hands as she blows a soft air kiss and closes the door.

-

It’s sprinkling a little bit when Wednesday is outside.

“How does Wednesday act so non-hazardous with Y/N? It’s honestly impressive.”

“That’s not impressive, how the hell does she not smack her or give her glares? Do you not see the way her eyes actually look normal when she looks at her? Not even normal, they’re gentle! Plus she was the first to go run and get a bandaid when Y/N accidentally got a paper cut.”

It’s like they summoned the girl, who’s holding a plate of her lunch.

Enid smiles and Wednesday sits down, looking at everyone.

“Are you seriously speaking about me?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“We want to know why the hell you are actually sweet with Y/N.”

“You could’ve used any word besides sweet.”

“Baby-like?”

“Even worse.”

“Don’t dodge the question,” Bianca adds, somehow now being in this conversation, “You killed the biggest spider that was crawling to her, for her.”

“She doesn’t like spiders. Who wouldn’t use not being afraid of spiders to protect someone who is?”

Bianca blinks, then wrinkles her nose, “If it was me you’d certainly let it bite me.”

“Well that’s different.”

Everyone at the table groans, “Exactly!”

“What did I tell you?”

“The only person you’d not let it bite is Y/N, we just want to know why.”

“I’m protecting her because she’s my girlfriend.”

Everyone turns their head to her, “What?”

Enid slams her fists to the table, “I fucking knew it. I knew it! Ajax, you owe me five dollars. I CALLED IT.”

“The Wednesday Addams actually has a girlfriend?”

“Why didn’t we catch on?”

“They’re kinda cute together- don’t even speak or she’ll actually cut your head off if you say cute.”

Everyone is arguing with each other, going crazy. But by the time they cool down and look at where Wednesday was sitting, her seat is empty.

Then everyone looks around and sees her draping her black jacket over your tiny figure, she pulls you closer to her chest as you hold onto her. (Let’s say she’s atleast 4 inches taller than 5’1 in this.) You tug her big jacket over your shoulders as you hug her. She holds onto you and guides you to the table, kissing your forehead and brushing your damp hair.

Even when she comes back, she bends down and takes the butterfly that’s resting on your hair and places it on your hand. “I heard somewhere that if a butterfly lands on you, it means that they see you as a beautiful flower.” 

“I never heard that before.”

“I know, I made that up.”

Everyone starts screaming again, making your girlfriend and your heads snap at them.

“Look at them!”

“Aw! So cute!”

“I want to say this is disgusting but they’ll be my roman empire soon enough.”

You turn back to her, seeing her eyes soften, almost happily, "You told them?”

“I didn’t know why they didn’t conclude to that in the beginning.”

Bianca groans, rolling her eyes as everyone is screaming, then Xavier chimes in. "Back to that spider scenario. I definitely think Wednesday would kill it for me."

You glare at him, clinging onto your girlfriend a little more like a koala. She rubs your back as you tighten your arms around her.

"Your sense of self-love is filled with stupidity. I'd kill the spiders that are harmless to you and leave the ones that are most venomous and ugly looking for people like you."

Xavier goes quiet, making a defeated grunt.

Everyone does their little, 'awws' again. You turn to her, now that everyone knows about your status.

“At least we can kiss in the hallways?”

“Maybe save that for the dorms.”

“Can we kiss right now?”

Wednesday’s eyebrows lift up, and she sighs, turning you away from the group and giving you a light kiss, as your lips press together, she nudges a small Mr. Tuesday now with inverted colors, a black bunny. They're both holding hearts and have a star over their head.

"Now Mr. Tuesday has a Mr. Wednesday," she says softly, tucking her black jacket tighter around you as you continue hugging her.

"And Miss. Y/L/N has a Miss. Addams."

Not Strong Enough (Chap 6)

Jenna Ortega x Fem!Reader

(pictures not mine)

Summary: Jenna was visiting her mom in the hospital to drop off the food that will be eaten for the hospital party, but she met a resident surgeon and she thought "God forbid I ran into an accident, but I want her to open me and stitch me up." While the surgeon tries her best to keep her fan girling low-key.

Warning: curse words.

A/N: uhm, hi thanks for waiting, enjoy!

Words: 2.6K

Masterlist

Chap 1 | Chap 2 | Chap 3 | Chap 4 | Chap 5

______________________________________________________________

Chap 6

"What the fuck is happening?" Ava said as she enters the breakroom, Y/N is breathing with the help of a paper bag, Beatrice on her side guiding her how to properly breathe, and Camila in front of them with her phone out capturing every moment that Y/N is losing.

"You should've entered earlier Ava, Y/N was panicking because Y/N is going to have dinner with Jenna's family tonight" Camila exclaimed while checking all the photos that she have earlier of Y/N.

Y/N then crumpled the paper bag and throw it to Camila "You asshole, are you really my friend? You should be helping me!" while Camila just laughed and said "Beatrice is by your side, and helping you breathe is a one man job anyway" smirking to herself while Y/N answered "Okay, that's it, I don't give you the permission to talk to Jenna."

And as if on cue, the breakroom door then opened and Jenna entered.

"Who am I not talking to?" Jenna asked Y/N with a raised eyebrow and a smile. Y/N then started to look at Bea while Ava kicked Y/N under the table and whispered "Get your shit together."

"Hey" Y/N said while she waved to Jenna and invited her to seat in their table. The girl who just entered put a paper bag in the middle of the table, "Here are uhm, some cookies that I baked earlier, just a small treat for you all."

Ava started to open the bag and bring out the container with Beatrice helping her, Camila is still standing in front of them and said "So Jenna, as I promised you last time, I'm gonna show you my Wednesday Dance."

Jenna then looked at Y/N who was shaking her head and said "Please say no..." Jenna doesn't have the chance to answer when they heard the Bloody Mary Sped up Version in Camila's phone.

Camila stood up in front of them, tapping her foot with the beat. Beatrice was shaking her head and trying to not laugh, Ava was eating a cookie and enjoying the act, while Y/N landed her hand on Jenna's thigh and whispered "You don't have to do this" with a sad smile.

I'll dance, dance, dance,

With my hands, hands, hands

Camila started to dance, Jenna was nodding her head to the beat, Beatrice palmed her face, and Ava is clapping. Y/N's phone vibrated and got a message from their co-surgeon that all of the residents are needed in the surgery room.

Above my head, head, head like Jesus said

"Uhm, Bea & Ava, I think we are needed in the surgery room, we need to get going" Y/N said tapping the table to get the attention of the three of them, "Okay, show is over Camila, you can wait for us in here so that we can go home together" Beatrice said, while walking out with Ava.

Y/N looked at Jenna and said "Hey, will you be okay here? I'll be going back to you after, okay?" Jenna then nodded and replies "Duty calls, yes, I'll be waiting for you. I think me and Camila might bond for now."

With what she heard, Camila jumped up and down. But before Y/N reached the door, Jenna pulled Y/N and kissed her on her cheek and said "Work well."

Jenna then went back to the seat and Camila is side eyeing her, "What? You are creeping me out" Jenna said, "What was that for?" Camila asked the other girl with her eye brows raised, "Nothing, Y/N told me friends kiss each other's cheek so we just kinda did... for fun..." Jenna answered, not really telling the truth that she just wants to kiss Y/N, but Y/N did tell her about that so...

"Okay, friends... So did Y/N showed you her collection of her funko pops?" Camila asked Jenna, "Uhm no, actually I haven't been into her house" and that surprised Camila, "WHAT? She have all of the funkos of your character and what do you mean you haven't been to her house?"

"Funkos... of all of my characters?", Jenna thought, "Why would Y/N have funkos of my characters?" Jenna asked, "Well in the first place, she is like one of your biggest fan, she also went to some of your movie premiers but not lucky enough to get your autograph, and like she have a massive crush on you ever since, so like..." Camila ended with a shrug, Jenna was just listening to this new information that she is getting.

Camila then continued "Yeah, and we were like so surprised when you released a Nighttime Routine with Harper's Bazaar and Y/N was like, viewed that a hundred times and was like so dreamy about it. You know, I thought she knew that because like, you know, you are her friend so I thought you'll advise her with that, but I guess not since she fucking screamed at my ear when she refreshed her YouTube."

There is only one thing in Jenna's mind, "What the fuck?" and as for the Harper Bazaar's video, she saw Y/N all smiley while watching Melissa, so she contacted her agent if she can also do that video, and Jenna did that because she was just jealous on how Y/N is all smiley watching the video, before Jenna gets to ask Camila again, the three surgeon enters the breakroom.

Y/N went towards Jenna and asked "Do you wanna go home? Your mom said she'll be with your dad and you can come home with me..." and Jenna just nodded her head and said their good bye's to the other doctors.

Inside the car, Jenna is looking at Y/N and its creeping Y/N somehow, since she feels that Jenna is hiding something, "Why are you looking at me like that?" Y/N asked, "Nothing, I just learned something new today, and also, can I come to your house?" Jenna asked.

Y/N stepped on the break, "I'm sorry, uhm... Yeah sure, we can have dinner in my house next time" Jenna accepted the answer "That sounds fun, I can't wait" and smiled at Y/N.

---

Getting home, Y/N got acquainted with Jenna's family, seating at the sofa talking to Jenna's dad, going to the kitchen to help Jenna's mom, running around to chase Jenna's nieces and nephews, talks about social issues with Jenna's siblings.

Jenna pulled Y/N next to the stairs, away from everyone, "Are you good?" Y/N asked, "Yes, I just pulled you to the side to let you breathe, you're like a talking machine out there" Jenna answered with a smile, appreciating the effort that Y/N puts to get to know her family.

"Well, I mean your family is nice and they are fun so, I can't say that I'm getting tired, I actually enjoy it" Y/N says and leans her back to the wall waiting for Jenna to say something, but instead, Jenna just walked closer to her and smiled at Y/N.

Y/N feels a big hole inside her stomach is forming while Jenna just situated herself between Y/N's legs and rest both of her arms in Y/N's shoulder. "What are you doing?" Y/N swallowed and asked Jenna with a shake in her voice, "Nothing, just situating myself" Jenna answered and assisted Y/N's hand to rest in her hips.

Jenna rounded her arms tightly into Y/N's neck and played with the baby hair in her nape. Jenna stared intently to those beautiful eyes that she adored ever since Y/N greeted her in the hospital. Y/N's breathing becomes quick, with her proximity to Jenna.

"Hey relax, it's just me and you" Jenna said quietly and tries to help Y/N to slow down her breathing "Relax, it's just me and you, yeah?"

After a few seconds, Y/N relaxes her arms and tightens it hold around Jenna's waist that made them closer than they were. "I like this" Y/N said that made Jenna smile and said "Then probably you'll like this more."

Before Y/N gets to process what Jenna said, the other girl kissed her in the lips that surprised Y/N, she was like a stone for a second and Jenna felt that Y/N is not reciprocating the kiss, so she started to pull away, not until Y/N's arms tightened and kissed Jenna back.

Jenna's pushed Y/N's head towards her and tilts her head to make the kiss deeper and keep Y/N in her arms and her lips longer. Y/N bit Jenna's lip and pulled away slightly util their foreheads are touching.

"Dinner's ready, come to the table now!" Jenna's mom yelled from the kitchen.

Y/N and Jenna are just staring at each other with a lingering smile plastered in their faces.

A knock on the wall beside the stairs stopped them from their own bubble, "Girls, dinner is ready, come on."

The whole family started to sit in their places, while Y/N and Jenna got situated, Aliyah said "Y/N, i think your lipstick is smudged, here wipe it" and handed Y/N a tissue with a smirk in her lips, and the whole family looked at Y/N looking like a deer caught in headlights while Jenna reached for the tissue and wiped her own lipstick in Y/N's lips.

"Okay, let's dig in" Jenna's mother said to ease the situation.

The whole dinner was filled with chatters, laughter, and banters with each of them enjoying the food and the company of each other. To note, Jenna kept her left hand situated into Y/N's lap the whole dinner and eats with her right hand that made Y/N's heart beats so fast.

After the movie, everyone gets up and started to say their good nights and went to their room, as for Y/N, she started to walk towards the door and said her good bye's and thank you's to the family.

"Are you leaving?" Jenna asked while Y/N is holding her hand, "Sad to say, but yes, I need to sleep to" Y/N said with a sad smile "Can you like stay? Please" Jenna said and squeezed Y/N's hand "...please" Jenna added and she sounded so small.

Y/N answered "Sure, I would love to" and the two of them went up and straight to Jenna's room, "I don't have any clothes though" Y/N stated and Jenna answered "Don't worry you can wear mine."

The both of them got inside Jenna's room and Y/N's eyes roam, trying to embed every detail that she can see "Here, think my clothes can fit you?" Jenna said while handling Y/N her oversize clothes "Yeah, your clothes would totally fit me." Y/N replied with a smile and went inside the bathroom to shower and change.

After minutes, Y/N went out and saw Jenna was now under the covers using her phone, "So you're a right side of the bed sleeper?" Y/N asked that made Jenna look up, and wow oh wow, Y/N looks so cute in her clothes, and also the first time Jenna saw Y/N with house clothes. Y/N looks soft and small without her white coat and her formal clothes on, Jenna thought.

Y/N got situated beside Jenna. The two just looked at each other, wiggling their eyebrows at each other and smiling, "What?" Jenna said "Nothing" Y/N answered.

Jenna seated closer to Y/N and reached for Y/N's hand, "About earlier... I uhm. I'm not sorry for kissing you, just so you know. I have been wanting to do that ever since" Jenna said, "It's okay, I'm not sorry too" Y/N said, so what Jenna did is to lean in and kiss Y/N again, which Y/N gladly reciprocated, but before everything got out of hand, Jenna pulled away and remembered what Camila said to her earlier and plan to tease Y/N.

"So, what's your favorite show of mine?" Jenna asked with a smirk, "Huh?" Y/N played it off and tried to act like she doesn't know it "Camila told me earlier that you like my movies and you have a crush on me" Jenna added. If Y/N was not red earlier, well she is definitely now, heat creeping up her cheeks and pulling Jenna's blanket to cover her face.

"Come on don't be shy now, you just kissed me" Jenna stated as she situated herself on top of Y/N and started o tickle the other girl. Fits of laughter can be heard, "Okay, Okay stop please" Y/N said while giggling "I'll tell you my favorite show of yours" Y/N added.

Stopping her movements, Jenna helped Y/N to fix her hair, "Ok, so what's your favorite?" Jenna asked, "Iron Man 3, I really like how you sat the whole scene" Y/N stated, and Jenna slapped Y/N's arm and exclaimed "Be serious oh my god!" Y/N laughed and answered "It's The Fallout, honestly, I love Vada."

It surprised Jenna since the answer she got commonly are Scream or Wednesday, so she again asked Y/N "What makes you love Vada then?" Y/N shrugged and answered "Well first of all, she is a trauma survivor, and I loved how the movie showed a different perspective of how a teenager cope to such trauma" and Jenna did agree to Y/N, "But most of all, Vada is a girl kisser so..." Y/N added.

"You can't be really serious, yeah?" Jenna answered trying to get off of Y/N, but Y/N held Jenna's hip to stay in place "Stay on top of me, I'm starting to like your weight on top of me" Y/N said with a loving smile.

With that, Jenna situated herself and lay herself down on top of Y/N.

"On a serious note, I'm really just curious" Y/N started caressing Jenna's back "I don't know, I just need to be sure okay. Don't laugh at me please" Jenna lift herself up and look at Y/N "Please just say it."

"Do you like... like me or I don't know, I mean, do you like me as you know... do you like envision me as your girl friend or something, I mean not to jump into conclusions, but like you know, I just want to know like, are we dating? Or like a winter thing?" Y/N stuttered and Jenna just looked at her.

"I just brought you to our family dinner, yeah?" Jenna asked.

Y/N nods,

"I hold your hand and rubs your thigh at dinner?" Jenna asked.

Y/N nods,

"I kissed you, in the lips, hard, and deep before dinner, yes?" Jenna aksed.

Y/N nods,

"I invited you inside my room, let you wear my clothes, I lay on top of you, kisses you again, and listen to you talk, yes?" Jenna asked for the last time.

And Y/N nods for the last time.

Jenna sighs and sits, "Yes, I like you Y/N. I also want to be your girlfriend, and yes, we are dating, if you want to. I mean, if you don't want to dat-"

Before Jenna finished her sentence, Y/N kissed her and yelled "YES! Oh my god" Y/N is now doing her happy dance while Jenna just smiled at the girl "Okay let's get to sleep now."

Y/N lay down Jenna on top of her, "Good night" Y/N whispered and Jenna answered back "Good night and sweet dreams" and kissed Y/N's collar bones.

______________________________________________________________

Chapter 7

A/N: FINALLY I FINISHED THIS. Hope you enjoy! Open for Comments and Suggestions. To those people who leave comments on my work, I really appreciate you, thank you! Also added a word count just because I feel like this is my current longest story (really not sure, I just feel like it, lol).

What's your favourite show/movie of Jenna?

Caught

Tara carpenter x reader

Drabble 2

----

2 months of dating Tara, it had to be the best 2 months of your life, but dating Tara also came with some difficulties, you see, it was hard not to tell absolutely everyone in the world about your beautiful, amazing, talented girlfriend: Tara Carpenter.

And this was one of those times.

You were hanging out with the core 4, along with Mindy's girlfriend and your best friend; Anika, and Ethan with Quinn.

You guys were walking in the city as usual, per Tara's request to explore the city, and of course you loved showing them around, but you weren't in the greatist mood, the problem was that Chad had been all over Tara the entire evening, you tried to keep your jealousness at bay, it wasn't his fault, afterall, your relationship with Tara was a secret, still you couldn't help but feel jealous at the sight of Chads arm slung over Tara's shoulder as he talked her ear off, but you tried not to look and kept going.

"Hey guys, Can we stop for some food?, I'm hungry" Ethan whined, "Sure, There's a pizza joint right here" Anika said, pointing at a small building, "There's alot of people in there.." Sam muttered, eyeing it wearily, "It's fine, I'll go in and grab some pizza," Quinn said from behind you, "Who has money?" "Oh, I do," You reached into your pocket and pulled out some 10 dollar bills, "Here" Quinn took it, "Thanks, Okay, What kinda pizza do you guys want?" "Mushrooms!" Chad exclaimed, "Pineapple is fine" Sam murmured, "Ugh, That's all so gross, Get some cheese pizza for me" Mindy made a disgusted look, (idk, mushrooms and pineapple on pizza is just gross to me) Quinn nodded and went inside.

You didn't have to wait to long before she came back with four boxes, "Thank god," Ethan whimpered, "Mmm, this is great" He said taking a huge bite out of his pizza slice, "Alright guys let's go back to the apartment" Sam called, so you all followed her back.

----

When you got back and Sam finally found the key you all burst in, Mindy crashing into the couch as a loud groan left her, and you chuckled, "My fucking ass is sore," Mindy whined, "Why'd we have to go ice skating?" "Because i wanted to remember?," Anika said flopping on top of her girlfriend, "And it was funny watching you and Chad fall" "Hey!," Chad protested, "It was slippery.." They countinued to insult eachother and you sighed, quietly slipping into Tara's room, you sat on the bed with a heavy sigh, trying to get the image of Chad catching Tara from nearly falling on the ice out of your head.

It wasn't working very well.

You groaned, falling back on the bed and putting your hands over your face, you couldn't hear the quiet pitter-patter of feet over the yelling and laughing, the door creaked softly as a small head poked through the crack, "Hey baby," A voice said softly, "You okay?, You were quiet almost the whole time we were out" Tara approached the bed, sitting at your side, "Yeah, i'm okay Tar, just a bit tired" You gave her a comforting smile, but she knew better, she raised her brow, you sighed, you both knew you couldn't lie to her, "I just.. it's silly but, it, hurts.. watching you with Chad, i mean, he acts like he owns everything! And i know it's not his fault, we're a secret but still" You sniffed, moving to face the wall. She put her hand on your chin, making you face her, "Y/n, I want you to know that i don't have any feelings for Chad, He's just a friend, And if you want, I can tell him that, Okay?"

Tears welled in your eyes at her reassurance, you sat up, smiling at her, whispering a soft, "I know", you leaned in, and she met you halfway. The kiss was like a promise, filled with love, and passion, words can't describe how you felt in that moment, you could cry, it was overwhelming the feelings you held for Tara. You kissed her with everything you had, telling her without words that you would be with her forever, because words didn't matter. You broke for air but she pulled you back in, this time with more hunger, desire, she tilted her head to deepen the kiss, your tounge swipping over her bottom lip, and she gasped, allowing your entry. Your hand snaked under her shirt, fingers softly scratching the perfect skin under her ribs, and she whimpered at the feeling.

You were to entirely entranced by one anothers beings to hear the footsteps approaching the door, you hadn't even noticed anyone else was in the room until she cleared her throat, you broke away. Anika was standing at the door, with the biggest grin on her face, "I fucking knew it!" Yours and Tara's faces were both bright red, from both emotion, and embarrassment. You stuttered out a "I-I-, Wait, you're not like, Mad?" Anika looked slightly confused at that, "What?, No?, I mean a little because you didn't tell me but no. I'm not Sam for fucks sake" A beat of silence passed, less than a second, as you both sat there in shock, "Okay, Well, I came to tell you guys that we're watching insidious," She went to leave, "Don't do anything I wouldn't do!" Then she left you alone. Tara groaned, hiding her face in the crook of your neck as you laughed at her embarrassed state. She pinced your side, "It's not funny!" she complained, "Well it kinda is-" your sentence was cut short by Tara's lips on yours, she crawled back into your lap, and you happily shut up. "It's not funny" She muttered against your lips, "Okay, Okay, It's not funny" "Damn right" You chuckled at that, "Okay, I think we should go before they think we're having sex" You joked, and Tara nodded, sliding off of you, "Yeah, c'mon".

----

You walked into the living room, suprisingly no one looked at you differently, Chad looked at you and Tara with a hint of jealousy, and Anika smirked at you, but the others were busy watching the movie. You moved to sit next to Ethan, and Tara sat in the empty space next to you, subtly putting her hand on yours, in the dim light of the tv, no one saw as Tara leaned her head on your shoulder, Sam though, had seen it, giving you a slight smile and an approving nod. You smiled back, turning to the tv, you melted into Tara, feeling a wave of contentment wash over you.

Maybe this would work out.

----

sorry for procrastinating on this drabble <3

THIS TOOK FOREVER FOR ME TO DO WTF IM SORRYYYY

@caitlynskitten

@melrodrigo ?

@jenflirts

The Date

Tara carpenter x reader

Summary: you go on that date with tara

--

Tara had been waiting all week, she asked you out on Sunday and had been talking to you since, you were just as amazing as she had hoped, you were so gentle and never made her feel like a burden, not to mention you were funny and awfully hot.

She was practically buzzing with excitement, the day had come, Sam was out with her boyfriend for the day, she had told Tara that she might not be back till the next day, which was perfect for her.

She took longer then expected to change, as she rummaged through her closet, "okay, something cute, something cute.. Aha!" she's just wearing this,

she quickly checked the time (4:50) "shit"

She runs out the door and nearly falls down the stairs in her haste, she mentally cursed at her sister for getting an apartment on the top floor.

She finally made it out, you had already parked outside the building, "she's early" Tara thought to herself finding it endearing.

You were leaning against the car door, you noticed her walking toward you and you waved.

"Hey Tar" she smiled at the nickname, leaning up giving you a light peck on the cheek.

"Hey y/n, you look nice" her complement made you blush, though she didn't notice.

You opened the passenger door for her. "You ready?" She took your hand and sat into the seat grinning.

"And they say chivalry is dead" she teased, but you smirked back.

"My parents taught me to treat pretty girls well" you winked and closed the door, rounding the car to get to the driver seat.

--

The ride to the theater was a bit of a long one, considering the traffic, you sat in comfortable silence as music softly played in the background.

Tara stole a few glances at you while you drove, she bit her lip and looked at your hand, itching to reach out and hold it.

You seemed to notice her staring and put your hand out for her to take, she gladly took it, interlacing your fingers, and she put your hands in her lap to face the window again, hoping you wouldn't notice her bright cheeks and wide smile.

--

When you finally got to the theater you got out and opened the door for her again, holding out your hand to help her up.

She took your hand and stood up, you closed the door and locked the car, she took your hand again as you walked beside her to the theater.

You walked up to the snack bar to get popcorn and drinks, the woman behind the counter seemed to like you as she flirted with you while you ordered.

"Could I get a large popcorn and two cokes please?" "Of course, anything for a such a pretty girl" she winked and you blushed, Tara noticed and quickly linked your arms as she pressed into your side.

"Hey y/n/n, did you get what I asked?" She said Innocently looking up at you with doe eyes, then turned to give the woman a glare as she put the popcorn and cokes on the counter.

If looks could kill she'd be six feet under.

The woman ignored her and rang you up, passing you a folded napkin, winking at you.

"Have a good night" Tara glared harder as she tried to push you away to the doors.

You thanked her and let Tara take you through the doors, the ads were still playing as you sat down in the back, Tara sat frowning in her seat, arms crossed in a way that looked like a child getting denied a treat.

"You okay Tar? You seem upset" she stayed in the same position, not meeting your eyes, she grumbled "I'm fine, let's just watch the movie" the lights dimmed and the logo appeared on screen as the film started, Tara took an angry sip of her soda but relaxed slightly when she glanced at your side profile.

The movie was a horror film, you noticed quickly, you tensed at seeing a bloody body on the ground, Tara noticed and grabbed a hold of your hand, giving it a comforting squeeze, you leaned into her side more as the movie got more violent.

You jumped slightly at every jump scare, making you lean more into Tara, she put the armrest up and snaked an arm around your waist, pulling you closer, you melted into her and hid your face in her neck as she stroked your hair soothingly, and you let out a content sigh.

You quickly forgot the movie as Tara brushed your hair softly, and she rested her head on yours.

--

As the credits started rolling and people started getting up, you forced yourself to lift your head up from her shoulder, she let go and stood up with you and grabbed the popcorn while you picked the now half empty cups up, you walked out.

You turned to her as you neared the snack bar, "I'm gonna get refills" But Tara grabbed your arm before you could walk away.

"No!" She yelled "I mean- no, let's just go before it gets to late" "oh, alright, let's go then" She glared at the woman one more time before walking out of the theater with you.

--

As your car pulled up to the curb and she finished teasing you about being such a baby, you got out and opened her door for her.

Tara didn't want this night to end, but she knew it had to.

She couldn't just bring you into the apartment, Sam would find out and would probably kill you, but she didn't want to end her precious time with you.

So before you and her got to the door, she turned to you with a nervous look on her face.

"Y/n, I really don't want this night to end, but, it has to so," she took a deep breath, she leaned closer to your face, looking down. "I wanted to know, could I..," she looked at your eyes, slowly sliding her hands around your neck, hesitant.

You placed your hands on her waist, almost instinct, you could feel her breath fan across your face, you could see all her features, wanting to spend your night counting the freckles dotting her face.

You asked before she could.

"Can I kiss you?" Your voice barely above a whisper. "Yes."

You met halfway, her lips warm and so soft against yours, she tasted faintly of butter and the coke she had earlier.

She sighed contently and pulled you closer, it sounds cliché but it felt like butterflies erupted in your stomach, it was an out of body experience, the way her lips slotted against yours like the last piece of a puzzle, you never wanted to leave that moment.

But like all good things it had to end eventually.

Breath was becoming harder to avoid, you reluctantly pulled away, leaving just enough space to breathe, her lips were now the softest pink, her cheeks flushed, and you regretted ever pulling away.

Tara smiled at you, she gave you quick kiss, you kissed her forehead and she laughed quietly, a genuine laugh.

She looked up at you.

"I'll see you later Y/n." she walked to the door and turned the handle, looking at you one more time.

"Good night Tara." she smiled, "Good night Y/n."

And with that, she disappeared behind the door, leaving you on the cold sidewalk.

You wanted to giggle and kick your feet like a 14 year old girl.

You settled for a wide smile instead.

You headed to your car and drove off into the night, you wondered where this would take you.

--

We're not gonna talk about the implications that she wore that twice :)

This one is definitely longer then the last one

Falling for u

I had watermelon sour patch kids while making this.

Summary: you do ice breakers and the beautiful Tara carpenter talks to you.

Warnings: shit writing first fic ever so its bound

Authors note: also idk anything about school, or how to make conversation, enjoy!

More notes: if somehow you liked this then just know I probably won't post much at all :/

BTW this is kinda inspired by first date by @persevereforahappyending

--

You sit in your usual spot in class, headphones on playing calm music.

You doodle while you wait for the lesson to start.

Then as the Professor walks in you slide your headphones to your neck and take out a notebook, flipping to a clean page and start to write down.

As the professor starts to talk about different things (again idk anything about school), in the back of the class Tara stares at you.

Unbeknownst to you she has been watching you come to class for maybe weeks now.

She's captivated by you, she doesn't know why, she's only ever seen you talk to your friends and seen you in the halls but never had the confidence to actually come up and talk to you.

Today would be different though.

She decided it was about time she spoke to you.

You always seemed so kind and quiet.

Everytime you met her eyes in the halls she would get nervous and look away, but not before you would give her a kind smile making her cheeks flush.

She was broken out of her trance when the professor announced to the students they would need to do icebreakers and pick a partner for the project, making most people groan.

But Tara however saw this as an opportunity to talk to you.

Luckily it seemed you were more interested in what you were drawing then making conversation.

So she picked up her bag and walked down to you, taking a seat next to you and tapping you on the shoulder.

"Hey,.." She was nervous, to nervous, but she knew you weren't going to start a conversation with her first judging by how you avoided everyone else. "I'm Tara"

You jumped slightly.

"Uh, Y/n"

"Sorry did I startle you?"

"No just caught me off guard" you smile, that same blinding smile she had seen before.

"Good, so um.." She trailed off, not knowing where to start. "Whats your favorite movie?"

"Knives out," you answered quickly. "I loved the mystery and the guessing who the killer was, what's yours?"

(Just pick any movie that's just my favorite)

"The babadook" she answered instantly. "Oh I hate scary movies-" "what!?, but you like knives out?" "That's a murder mystery, I hate getting scared. But what do you like most about your movie?" She opened her mouth, ready to ramble about all the reasons why you should love it, only to be cut off by the professor clapping his hands and sending everyone to their seats.

She sat back with a frown, after weeks of building the courage to talk to you she was cut off.

She made one conclusion that day, professors were evil.

(That was from first date btw)

--

When the professor finally dismissed the class Tara practically ran out the door to meet you there.

She saw you going out and pulled you by the wrist to face her.

"What the!- Tara?, what are you doing?" You exclaimed.

She let go of your wrist to rub the scar on her hand nervously, a habit she picked up after the attack.

"I um.." She trailed off not knowing how to ask you. "I uh wanted to know if-if maybe you were free on Friday?" She stumbled over her words, refusing to make eye contact with you, she thought if you didn't say yes then she could laugh it off and never speak to you again.

But before she could dive deeper into those thoughts you spoke. "Are you asking me out?" a small smile played on your lips.

"And if I did, would you say yes?" She asked hesitantly, still refusing to look into your eyes, afraid she'd get lost in them.

You broke into a full out grin, looking like a complete fool. "Then I would say yes."

This made her finally look into your eyes, she searched them for any trace of insincerity, but all she saw was adoration and hope.

She took a deep breath, composing herself to ask you correctly. "Then will you go out with me on Friday?" She hoped you wanted to.

You swallowed, trying not to smile so hard. "I'd like nothing more"

Tara let out a breath she hadn't even realized she was holding, and smiled. "I'll see you Friday then, how about the theater at 5?"

You nodded. "Sounds great" she smirked. "Don't be late," she leaned up to kiss you on the cheek softly, making you blush hard. "I'll see you then" then she winked and walked away, out of view.

You sighed contently.

You couldn't wait.

--