Work Text:
Earnest Jones sits by a window, alone. Daydreaming.
It’s the second-to-last period of a very typical, boring school day. His partner (Gordana Vendome; new student, alleged Preppy twin ) for the class project (US Government, “What makes America a Successful Democracy?”; an assignment more befitting a 5th Grader than a class of Juniors) is absent.
For Earnest, this meant two things:
- There’s no reason to pay attention to the droll lecture, nor the equally-droll instructor.
- He can’t stop thinking about her.
The first is a given, considering his well-above-average grades ( if I wasn’t here to pad out my resume, I’d have quit the moment I noticed the Professor looking up “Government class assignments free” on fucking Bing) — but the second… that confused him.
Admittedly, she’s not hard to think about. Her presence, both as sweet as her perfume and as unusual as her mannerisms, sticks out like a sore thumb amongst a sea of gang violence and miserable brats ( that includes me, unfortunately ).
He sighed. For a brief moment, he considered putting his head down in the hopes no one cared — but a soft chime from the teacher’s pocket makes him glance over.
Steve Salvatore, otherwise known as “Mr. S” (his words) was an incredibly average-looking middle-aged white man, as well as an inexperienced new hire from the local community college, brought in during yet another attempt by Crabblesnitch to combat Bullworth’s dwindling staff numbers. Unsurprisingly, he was subpar… though not terrible, either; boring, a little scattered, and clearly over-confident (his forced usage of modern slang is enough to make me cringe, which… definitely an achievement), but nothing about him really stuck out.
( Even his default Apple notif is predictably normal, huh? )
Regardless, his phone’s generic ping was loud enough to catch Earnest’s attention, which held for long enough that he saw a change in Mr. Salvatore’s expression from “clearly annoyed” to “utterly blank” when he checked the lock screen.
Before he can think to look away, their eyes met.
Mr. Salvatore was silent for an uncomfortably long moment ( given the usual “quiet ambiance” of chattering hasn’t stopped, I guess nobody else noticed ). When he opened his mouth to address the class, it was with a vague, distant voice.
“I think you’ve all done enough today. Get ready to leave at the bell.”
A beat. Then,
“Hey. Jones. I gotta see you after class. Stay in your seat.”
( He’s staring right at me. )
Earnest’s heart jumped into his throat.
Riiing!
As his classmates stampeded out the door, Earnest remained seated. Part of him grew nauseous at the thought that something might’ve happened to his family ( why else am I here? My grades are perfect! ), which only heightened when the teacher got up, closed the door, and then nodded him towards the front.
“We need to talk.”
Earnest gulped, and — deep inside his own anxiety — left his stuff behind.
“… is something wr—“
“You’re one of the transsexuals, right?”
(Oh.)
Every thought, every action. All of it stopped dead in its tracks.
But somehow, he nodded.
“Right. Thought so.”
Those words lingered silently.
Earnest watched Salvatore watching him. He looked over his body in a manner so slowly, so deliberately, that it sent a confused, frightened shiver down his spine.
( This can’t be real. )
“… yeah. Yeah. Okay. You’ll do.”
And then his arm was yanked forward.
Earnest cried out in confusion, which was immediately met with a sharp, painful slap, cracking his glasses — and before he can even process that, his vest is torn open.
He opened his mouth to cry out again, but a tongue was shoved inside it first.
They’re kissing.
( Oh, God, oh, God, oh, God —)
Salvatore moved fast. His lips dragged painful friction away from Earnest’s mouth and down his jaw, sharp and forceful. His neck was bitten. His collarbone sucked.
And his breasts were groped —
— and Earnest cried out again, as his nipple was bitten so fucking hard it feels like it might be torn off.
Salvatore pulled back just to punch him in the face, making lights dance across his bruising eyes.
“ Shut the fuck up. ”
He was thrown onto the teacher’s desk, making various items crash to the floor as he landed back-first; he tried to plead out… something ( anything, please, oh God ), but now he’s too scared to make much noise — all he can get out is whimpered a “please —“ as his pants are yanked off of him.
And even then, his face is scrunched inward as Salvatore grabs him by the cheeks. “Shut. The fuck. Up.” ( His eyes are so cold. ) “Understood?”
Earnest nodded, tears streaming down his face.
“Good girl. Lemme make it feel as good for you as it will for me.”
( Wait — )
Salvatore dropped to his knees, spread Earnest’s legs, and, sparing only a moment to bite the inside of his thighs, dug right the fuck in.
( NO! )
Earnest gasped. Terrified into a new Pavlovian response, his hand clasped his own mouth desperately.
It’s so —
— no. No. He doesn’t want this, he doesn’t want this, he doesn’t want this!
But —
(It feels good.)
(Good.)
(Good.)
(Not like this. Please. )
( This can’t be happening. )
He tried to shove the man’s head away from his cunt with his other hand, but it was grabbed painfully, then pinned at his side.
( There’s no use, is there? )
He released his mouth just long enough to choke out “g-g-gonn-na—“
— and he’s cumming.
Blissfully.
Horribly.
Painfully.
( HE’S BITING MY CLI —)
He screamed into his hand. His blood curdled, as pleasure was cut off by a brief, unforgettable dose of the worst pain he’s ever experienced.
He’s sobbing. He can tell he’s sobbing. But he’s latched onto his mouth so tightly he can’t even hear it.
When Salvatore came up again, his lips were red and his cock was out.
And Earnest knew.
He knew what comes next.
He shook his head, trying to crawl away — only to be yanked forward, as Mr. Salvatore gripped him by the thighs, and spread them so easily. He bent them back until they pressed flat against the cold wood and Earnest’s tendons felt like they were being lit on fire.
“Did you like that, slut?” He sneered. “You’re so fucking wet. D’you know I’m the best you’ll ever have?”
( Why me? )
And then he shoved his cock inside of Earnest, and it drowned out everything in the world but his own fucking terror.
He was fucked ruthlessly. Mercilessly. His breasts were bitten again, his tongue kissed, and at the same time his neck was grabbed and squeezed for so long he could feel his eyes rolling into his head — only to be released for a few desperate gasps of air before it started again.
He couldn’t even feel the man getting close to climax; too fast. Too agonizing. But he did feel him reach down and start to jackhammer the pads of his fingers against Earnest’s swollen, bleeding clit.
As if it wasn’t enough humiliation to cum from being devoured the first time, this resulted in a second, weaker orgasm.
Which threw Mr. Salvatore into his own climax.
A few more pointed, hateful thrusts —
And it’s over.
It’s finally fucking over .
There was silence as they both came down, broken only by panting and pitiful, high-pitched whimpers that Earnest barely recognized as his own crying. For a moment, the sound of it made him feel like a child again. Like a five-year-old. Like he was lost, alone, in the forests of suburbia, and now found himself cornered by a possibly rabid, definitely carnivorous dog.
( Help me. )
( Somebody. Anybody. Please. )
( Please help me. )
“Say you loved it.”
Earnest was knocked back into himself at the prompt.
He blinked the fog from his eyes, trying desperately to catch up again, fearing what punishment lay in another perceived defiance.
“W-wh— what?”
Salvatore reached down, opening his drawer —
Earnest gasped before he even fully registered the sight of the pistol he pulled out.
“Say you loved it,” he repeated, his voice full of a darkness only thought of in cinematic fantasy. “Say ‘ I love the way you fucked me, Tommy ’. Use my name, and thank me for it, too. Do it, or I’ll blow your fucking brains out.”
“I…”
( He’s going to kill me. )
Earnest swallowed. Goosebumps rose, fell, and rose again, over and over, as a cord in the back of his neck pulled so tight he couldn’t even focus his eyes. “I love… I l-loved the way you f-fucked me, Tommy. Th, t-thank you. I… oh, no, please, I loved it, I promise I loved it, I — please put down the gun, please put the gun down, please please please PLEA—“
Tommy put the barrel in his own mouth, aimed up, and pulled the trigger.
The weight of his body collapsed on top of Earnest. A torrent of blood flowed from the crater in the back of his skull, pouring right into Earnest’s open mouth and making him choke. The corpse slipped off the desk, and he rolled over, vomiting blood and brains and little bits of carrot stew all over the staff laptop.
He kept heaving even as the door broke open.
Mr. Galloway, armed with a broken wine bottle and poised like he was ready for a fight, staggered inside. He took one look at Earnest’s blood-smeared body and screamed.