Warnings: angst adjacent, smut, dirty talk, LOTS of language
Word Count: 2.7k
A/N: I was looking through some REALLY old requests and I came across an idea from @jennalyncarrigan1230 from who knows how long ago. She pitched an idea that I have twisted and LOVE the outcome. I doubt she even remembers sending the ask, but her initial idea sparked this smutty goodness. This took on a life of its own. I haven’t wrote Dean smut or ANY smut in quite some time. This is officially DIRTY. Or at least by my standards it is. Hope you enjoy. ;)Italics & Bold indicate reader’s thoughts. This has very little plot. Just the poor reader thinking her secret dirty thoughts about Dean only to have them be not so secret anymore.
Greetings people. I identify as a Black female who was born and raised in NYC. I am slowly progressing through my study of education and history in college. Other then that, I spend (probably) an unhealthy amount of time reading and writing sci fi and fantasy. But by high school, I got sick and tired of the same story featuring blonds and brunettes saving the day with their straight, lean male heroes so I turned to my librarian seeking something new. She pointed to Octavia Butler and the rest was history. I’ve been seeking diversity in media ever since.
Family life and Culture
I grew as the middle child of six siblings with my single mother and grandparents. Yes, my working-class household fits the stereotype. We even have an absent father *sighs* But, hey shit happens. And with the biological father turns out not to be the best father figure, shit had to go right out the door. Yup. But make no mistake that this is a norm. Most households on my block do have both parents involved in their children’s lives. Our circumstances called for us to have one. That’s all.
The house was full, loud and rambunctious. We made up a good portion of the children on the block (unsurprising) and basically ran it. There’s a whole novel that could be fleshed out of my childhood if I wanted to. Our neighborhood is very tight knit. Next door neighbors were treated like Aunts and Uncles. When summer came around, we were sometimes divided into groups as the parents who were off from work overlooked us while braiding our heads. Blackouts became an all night bbq and sleepover on each other’s porches. Crooklyn by Spike Lee was a good representation of what it was like in fact. Somewhat. Minus the brownstones, plus a couple more fights (lol).
My grandma was a nurse who’s pretty big on us knowing our family history. She made sure to talk a lot about our Gullah Geechee roots. We also had some Dominican culture influence since her closest friend and our Madrina was, well, Dominican. But she is fairly strict on gender norms and how my sisters and I should act especially with brothers. She antagonized me the most growing up because I continued to ignore this. We don’t get along but i can’t say i don’t get why she’s the way she is. She has a pretty dark past. My mother, a latchkey kid of the finest stock, is more laid back and gives all of us free range to make our own mistakes. Most times. Other times, she’d rather lecture us. Depends on our crime.
I don’t know what my grandpa used to do. He retired waaaaay before my grandmother. I also don’t know much about his culture. He’s 1st gen Jamaican who fully assimilated into American culture. Well, beside his food choices. Now, he gambles and goes to church. When I was younger, he used to teach us how to gamble too. And how to cheat and not get caught. We got a lot of free fast food while he taught us. He has gotten more frugal the older he got. And more isolated.
Dating and Relationships.
I don’t date. I have no interest. Well, no, that’s not exactly true. I’ve considered it but I rather have not seek out anything outside of platonic right now. I have a tight knit circle of friends and several other groups of friends I associate with depending on the activity. I’m realizing it seems like I’m using the term “friends” loosely but I swear I’m not. I’m a virgin and I feel nothing about being one until someone goes “*gasp* You’re a virgin really?” and then I end up on high defense saying “So?” Believe or not, that messed with me a lot.
My love life and lack of interest in having one has always been a struggle. In middle school, the group of friends I hung with were becoming more infatuated with love and sex. Yes, middle school, fifth through eighth grade, ages nine to thirteen. But, when they would talked about who’s hot or not, they would look at me funny when I didn’t join in the discussion. Instead of explaining myself, I simply copied other’s reactions and gushed along with them. This instinct followed me through High school til stopped out of annoyance. I became a listener and adviser in their relationships because I really do love stories in many shapes and forms. And I would never turn down hearing a story.
My primary language is English and AAVE. I’ve been living in a neighborhood filled with Blacks and Latinx. Most of my friends are Black and Lantinx. I didn’t meet a white person my age until college. Okay that’s a partial lie. I’ve been in a summer camp that was made up of predominantly white children. But as the only black kid in my age range, I was sorta uncomfortable. I never made lasting friends there. After High School, I spent a year abroad in Tena, Ecuador where I learned Spanish and Kichwa. I still suck at both languages.
Lots of my clothes when I was younger were borrowed or hand-me-downs. Half of them still are. It’s like thrift shopping without the hiked prices thanks to its popularity by rich white people (Thanks rich white people!) All my siblings’ taste varies. In my case, I’m fond of combining loose and tight clothing (tight jeans and a loose sweater/ baggy jeans and a tight top). No makeup. Silver accessories.
I used to have a short bob cut permed. I hated it. But I rather a perm then getting my hair straightened with a hot comb because the back of my neck and big ears would always get burned. It wasn’t until I made a friend with a natural afro that I realized my natural hair was even an option.
Lol I was a nerd with bad grades.
My family practices Santeria, which has historical roots in both Catholicism and Yoruba thanks to slavery (Yay slavery!). However, because the religion is not fully accepted or well-known, I tend to say I’m simply Catholic if asked. Apparently, a Black Catholic is hard to believe. It is assumed all Black folks are Baptists or some branch of Christianity. I have no idea where that stereotype came from. But I can give some guess. (*cough cough* Tyler Perry….).
As I stated before, I love scifi and fantasy. I especially love urban fantasy involving witches. I blame this love on Practical Magic and Eve’s Bayou, my childhood faves. It’s because of this love that I wish to see more stories with witches of color. And no, I don’t mean that one evil/mysterious southern/Caribbean Voodoo/Hoodoo witch hollywood loves to portray so much. That always plays into the “Black is evil” trope. Give me some damn variety!
I would squeal so hard if the mythology involved in a story isn’t even Eurocentric. I’m not joking. This is serious. When my religion was simply hinted at in the Raven Boys series (It was also a great way of making even more obvious that the character was definitely not white.) and Kenya Wright’s Habitat series, I squealed. All the authors did was write the names of some of the Orishas and I couldn’t help but put my phone down for a moment and inwardly scream with glee. That being said, if a writer does decide to use afrocentric or any religion involving “witchcraft” as a basis, I would personally ask that they make sure is is not a closed religion.
Santeria is, in fact, a closed religion. And while I don’t mind mentions of it in fantasy and even a main character stating they practice it, do not go any further than that. Don’t even research the practices within the religion other than what is public knowledge (And if you don’t have any public knowledge, just ask) Respect that there’s a limit. Anything further spelunking is consider rude, disgusting, disrespectful and dangerous. There’s things that I don’t even know because I haven’t been properly initiated. And the internet has a lot of these practices exposed when it shouldn’t be so please don’t look into it. Please.
Most of the cooking in the house has been done by my grandmother. Because of her various relationships, our food has always been a mixture of Black American, Gullah, Lantinx and Caribbean influences. It is so good. So, so good!
The only thing I don’t eat of hers is her seafood gumbo because I don’t like shellfish. One of my sisters said I should have my “black card” taken for my distaste. I said she could take it if she can name more black movies than me. She still can’t take it. My other sister wishes we could switch places because she loves crab but is allergic. The crazy girl actually sends her husband to buy some benadryl so she can eat some if we ever have some on the table. Smh. Siblings.
My family on both sides are quite fond of reunions. On my grandpa’s side, the family uses Fourth of July and Christmas to get together. On my grandma’s side, they tend to host annual summer reunion and send out RSVP invitations complete with schedules of the whole two to three day event. I didn’t mention this under my family life, but both sides of my family are boujee to different degrees. Lots of black sorors and frats members on both sides. I can’t believe that slipped my mind typing.
I’m a little iffy with Christmas. It’s more of a holiday for the older generation and our niece and nephews. The younger generation, however, don’t particularly care for the holiday. For some of us, it’s because it’s not really Jesus’s Birthday and Santa was whitewashed. For others, it’s because we don’t care to feed into the corporate holiday. For most of us, it’s a combination of the two. But we do love getting together when we can. My older sister and I have conspired to celebrate kwanzaa instead for the past two years. So far, it hasn’t grasped the interest of anyone else in the family.
Being nerds from a young age, my siblings and I have been called “Oreos” or“Not really black” by kids in school on more than one occasion. We shut them down by fighting. Probably not the best strategy but it was best one I could think of in middle school and below. Made it easier to go back to reading my manga.
I got compared to my sisters a lot. It was the absolutely most annoying thing ever. And a major source of my insecurities growing older.
Need I address colorism? My highschool was filled with it. #TeamLight v #TeamDark. I was on neither team, because in the region I live, skin color was a pretty long spectrum. I fell in the between. Who came up with this?
I’ll admit it. I hate my own tears. They make me feel weak. Which isn’t true…I know. But, it is a mentality I always had. I have depression and PTSD. This isn’t really a secret. I tell people if I’m asked. But have you ever had someone look at you and say, “Really? You don’t seem like the type.” ……
I am a black female. I’ve been labelled “Strong” and “Independent” the older I got. By my mother. By my siblings. By my peers. And I get those labels. Even from friends. I loved those labels. I call myself by those labels. I mean, who doesn’t want to be seen as strong and independent? Those are positive affirmations, right? I think they would be. If that wasn’t all the positive labels we could get. Somehow, society has decided we are beings that are incapable of being multifaceted. I was indirectly taught to hate my own tears because black girls don’t cry. You can’t cry and be strong. What a terrible mantra fed to black girl at a young age. So, instead you tell everyone “It’s fine.”
I told my therapist it was fine. Until she told me straight up it was not fine. And it was okay to cry. I don’t like to cry. But I still (involuntarily) did it.
Things I’d like to see less of/Things I’d like to see more of:
I’m sick and tired of seeing black and latinx folks being portrayed as only fantasy gangs members. We are not only gang members. That’s a terrible popular myth the media put out there and I hate it even more so when it’s portrayed in SFF genre..
I’m tired of having one black person in a novel being described as having skin the color of “midnight.” And he’s (it’s always a he) not even that important to the story
I hate how every time someone decides to add a person of color, they have to be ambiguous brown. I’m not saying ambiguously brown don’t exist and don’t need representation but is it really that had for a dark brown skin person to play a major role in a story that’s not about slavery? Speaking of which….
Why we always gotta be slaves? Or better yet….
Why don’t we exist at all in High fantasy stories? Urban fantasy? Brooklyn wasn’t always the gentrified white town it is now. Still isn’t. How are you erasing people of color from NYC??? We make up way too much of the population to be completely erased
Stop racial coding other creatures to surround your white human characters. Especially as the bad guys. That’s just shitty writing. Step up your game!
I love Black love
I love Gay love. I wish more would follow moonlight’s example and show poc are gay too and gay doesn’t always equal to stereotypical femininity.
I love interracial love HOWEVER, can we pair people of color with other people of color as well? I’m starting to hate seeing it always a white person paired with a Poc. Variety damnit!
Friendships between boys and girls that don’t transform into love.
Friendships between girls that didn’t start out as a rivalry.
Different body types besides the skinny and tall. Make a main character that’s fat for once. It’s not a problem.
Magical characters of color that aren’t “Noble Savages” or “Wise Monks” that used their magic for personal gain for once instead of waiting for the white hero to come.
Nerdy black characters who aren’t 100% competent and cries. One that isn’t in a five token band that always gonna be compare to the white main character. Make the nerd the main character!
That’s all I can think of at the top of my head. But my list really does go on.
Can you do smut with Justin Foley (13 reasons why) …(x reader) maybe..you didn’t fuck for a week because you have problems and he catches you masturbate and he is not happy about it so he punish you…
WARNINGS: Smut, rough, swearing
Me and Justin haven’t been talking for days. He practically pushed me off of him the other day and I’m pissed. For some reason we have been arguing more than usual. Just two days ago we argued cause Justin forgot to pick me up to go to school cause he decided to drink with his friends. It’s been leaving me frustrated. In many ways. Its Saturday night and Justin keeps calling my phone and leaving message after message.
Babe I’m sorry about the other day
Baby please pick up…
What do you want me to do?
I can bring strawberry ice cream for you
Babbbbbby please answer me
I roll my eyes and put my phone on silent. I’m more angry with him cause with all this arguing we haven’t had sex in over a week and it’s killing me. I have been wanting to slap him and fuck him at the same time and I think he knows it. There is a knock at the door and I say a small ‘come in’.
“Hey sweetheart” my mom peaks in. She’s all dolled and dressed up. I do that signature dog whistle and laugh.
“Hey mom, where are you going looking all nice” I smile.
“Me and your father are going out for dinner surprisingly”. I look behind her and see my dad with his thumbs up. I laugh and shake my head. I follow them downstairs as they put their jackets on.
“Okay have fun you too” I say, walking up to hug and kiss both of them.
“We will, come lock the doors behind us. And you know the rules n-”
“Yes, yes, no partying, no drinking, no smoking, no inviting strangers, no going out after 12 and call you if I invite Justin over.” I say nonchalantly.
“Good girl” she kisses my check while my dad rubs my head.
“See you kiddo, be safe.”
“I will, love you”
They both say quick ‘love yous’ and get into their car. I watch them drive off and quickly close the door and jog up the stairs back to my room. I look at my phone and see more text from a now angry Justin. I huff and turn my phone off. I lay on my bed and start thinking about where we went wrong. Just last week we were making love. Making love. I start thinking about how good it felt for him to be inside me with his hands roaming my body. I start thinking about his lips on my neck. Thinking about this started to make me feel hot down there. I continue thinking about his mouth on me and found myself creeping towards my underwear. I never thought I would do this, being that I had Justin, but obviously I don’t have him right now and I need something. I peel my underwear off and start rubbing around my heat. I keep thinking About Justin and imagine my fingers as his.
“Justin” I moan. My fingers speed up and I arch my back into myself. I grab onto my bare breast under my shirt and pinch onto my nipple feeling nothing but pleasure. I keep moaning, sliding a finger into my now wet core. I’m lost in my own world as I slide in another finger. I want Justin more, but this will have to do. I continue pumping in and out while moaning my boyfriends name. I need him so bad. I’m so wrapped up in my moans that I didn’t notice my door fly open. I jerk up and see none other than Justin. A very angry Justin. He looks mad, but his eyes look like something else. Lust.
“What the hell do you think your doing y/n”
“I-I don’t know” I say, covering my naked body with my sheets. He walks up to the bed and yanks the sheet away from me, scamming my body up and down.
“What the hell were you doing”
“It was nothing, I just wanted to try something dif-”
“You wanted to fucking finger yourself!” he says while still looking at my body. I feel weirdly exposed in front of him, but I kind of like it.
“We haven’t had sex in a while and I have been aggravated” I say quietly, but he doesn’t say anything. He just stared.
It was the way he stood and looked at me. Watching my every move and staring at me with those deep eyes. And I loved it. I loved the attention he was giving me. The long needed attention. It made me feel wanted and special. It was his attitude. The way he stood leaned against my headboard with his arms crossed on his chest and lip in his mouth.
I look away feeling queasy in my stomach. It wasn’t an uncomfortable feeling, but a feeling of excitement. I uncover my hands from my chest and fix my posture, sitting up. I bit my lip and look back at him. His eyes leaves my face and goes straight to my chest, smirking. That was all it took for him to make his way to my bed and sit down next to me.
“You like being a naughty girl don’t you?” he whispers. His voice suddenly got deeper and husky, making my lower body ache. Definitely a turn on, making me want him even more.
“Do you like it?” I ask, biting my lip seductively as I smiled.
“No not really” I almost frown at his response until he speaks again.
“Only I can touch you like that, and I don’t like you doing my job.” I close my eyes, trying to contain myself from jumping onto him right now. I want him badly. So badly right now.
“Then touch me” I whisper into his ear.
“If I do, I might not be able to control myself cause I’m still angry at you for doing this” I bite my lip as I climb onto his lap and bite his ear softly before whispering.
As soon as I said it, Justin attack my lips, wrapping my legs around his torso pressing his body against mine. I moaned against his lips as I kissed him hard while his hand went in my hair and his lips moved hungrily with mine.
“Mhm.” He groaned as he pulled away slightly. Grabbing his waist, I attempt to pull down his sweats. He sits up and pulls them off. I starting bucking my bare core against him, earning grunts. I drew circles with my hips as his hands stayed firmly on my waist. I started to feel him harden under me and I smiled through the kiss.
“Fuck this” he mumbled through the kiss. He quickly threw us over and yanked me to the edge of the bed.
“This is my job and don’t forget it”. With that he spread my legs apart with his hands on either sides of my inner thigh, spreading them as wide as he would while looking my core. He rubbed his hand back and forth and I moaned slightly while wiggling to try to feel him more. He held my body in place.
“Don’t fucking move” I bite my lip and nodded him.
I smiled at the sight of my boyfriend going down on me, his head between my thighs as he pleasured me. He rubbed his fingers again me, going up and down fast. Faster than I was. He made sure to press hard against me. I moaned and moaned even louder when he slide his long finger into me.
“God.” I moan, smiling at the sweet pleasure. I open my eyes to see him watching me as he adds another finger and curl them inside me.
“Yessss Just- my gosh!” I moan.
“What was that” he smirks. He adds a third finger and starts roughly pumping.
“JUST-” I couldn’t even speak cause of all my moans. He pulls his fingers out and kneels down further into my core. I then feel his lips touch my heat, making me grind my hips against his face for more. He starts going slow to tease me then speeds up. I wrap my legs around his neck, arching my body as he flicks his tongue harder against me. He movements started to make me whimper.
“Ha-right there, yes, fuck!” I whimper as he looks up at me while still moving his tongue. I throw my head back, not caring how loud I’m being. My small hands were in his hair, pushing on the back of his head I tensed, my eyes shutting as I moan his name again. I feel myself close, knowing I can’t hold it in.
“J-Justin, I’m ab-”
“Let it go baby.” I do as I’m told and cum while Justin licks everything up, smiling at me after. All of this just made me want Justin more than ever.
“Justin?” I pant.
“Yes angel” he smirks.
He throws of his underwear before grabbing a condom out his jean pocket and doesn’t give me a chance to register anything. Still at the edge of the bed, Justin grabs my hips and slams into me, making me whimper. my knees were dangling off the bed, spread apart as Justin thrust into me. I was eager for him to go harder, faster, rougher. I need all of him.
“P-please Justin harder” I moan. He doesn’t need for me to say it twice. Justin pushes himself deep into me, but doesn’t move. He just stood there, deep inside of me. the pleasure was so amazing.
“Fuck!” I yell, my body shaking and desperate to grab something as I cling myself onto his back.
“Ju-justin” I moan, my breathing heavy. He pushes my hips back down, held them down there before he slammed into me as hard as he could, making my bed move backwards. I let out a loud whimper, my hand grabbing his.
“God! Fuck me, Justin, Harder baby!” I beg, moaning louder than ever. He held my tiny hands so tightly in his, almost crushing my fingers as he went faster, deep groans escaping his throat.
“Holy fuck!” he growled. His voice sounding so deep. He only went harder as I scratched lines into his back. I tried to scream, but I couldn’t. My whole body was shaking beneath him.
“Fuck!” he screamed. I could hear his dick slam into me with each thrust, slamming into me as deep as it could. My back slammed into my bed each time. Tears were starting to come out my eyes as I was screaming his name. I exploded and it surprised me. Justin pulled out and looked exhausted. He slowly climbed onto the bed, pulling me onto him and could barely catch his breath. He only said one thing.
“Baby?” he pants.
“Yes?” I ask in the same state.
“I love you, but please remember to lock the door next time”. With that we laughed and then fell right to sleep in each others arms, finally back to normal.
A/N - Sorry if this isn’t that good. I hope you guys like this one! I appreciate you guys feedback :) love you