FIC: Leggo My Eggo
Title: Leggo My Eggo
Rating: R
Pairings: Puck/Santana
Summary: Santana steals the last eggo and Puck isn't happy at all. Written for a prompt at the glee_kink_meme . Hope you like it OP.
Santana Lopez knows she's kind of a bitch. Actually, she's a total bitch, but she tends to have a soft spot for Noah Puckerman. It's just always been that way. Ever since he beat up Artie (back in the day when Artie could still walk) in the first grade, she's kind of been hooked and while she's a frigid bitch to just about everyone, she shows Puck another side of herself. He's earned it.
But sometimes, being that semi-decent girl just doesn't work out in her favour. Santana's nothing if not an opportunist, and she knows when to turn the bitch on and off. For instance, she turned the bitch off and stroked Puck's ego a little bit when he was telling his waffles story at Breadstix. She knew that was total bullshit. She'd been to visit Puck and he had looked miserable - yes, she had gone to visit him in juvie. They both came from families that kind of didn't give a shit about them, so she had kind of made it her mission or something to look out for Puck (and over the years, that had morphed into getting ready for the missionary). Another nice thing she had done for him.
But now, being a nice girl wasn't going to get her shit. She could admit it, she was horny, but she was a special kind of horny. She didn't just want to get laid. Santana had a little problem. Every once in a while she liked it hard. She liked being roughed up a little bit. She was kind of bummed that Artie and Brittany were rekindling their romance or whatever fruity ass term Berry was calling it these days from her little blissful bubble of ignorance. Santana was tired of it. She just wanted to fuck away her frustration without having to discuss shit afterwards. Honestly, Puck could be such a fucking girl sometimes. Santana didn't talk about things. She just clawed them away with whoever was the nearest warm body - most of the time, that just happened to be Puck.
And so it came to be that they were eating waffles in her kitchen. It was like four in the afternoon and he was shirtless after mowing her grass for her. His nipple ring was gone and it looked like it had been ripped out. A part of her wanted to ask, but she was scared to. Plus, asking didn't really serve her purposes. It wasn't really time for waffles, but Puck was bitching and moaning that he was hungry and she just wanted him to shut up. So she had offered to give him waffles. She knew he loved his waffles and those fuckers in juvie had stolen all of Puck's waffles, so she figured it was the least she could do considering that technically, she was pulling a fast one on him.
It was normal for her to just make stuff and put it between them and they'd serve themselves. Puck honestly spent more time at her house than he did anywhere else when he wasn't off being a badass and pulling whatever latest dipshit scheme he had come up with. But no matter how hungry she was (and sometimes, she was really hungry - Puck wore her out sometimes, she could admit it), she always left the last serving of whatever they were having to him.
But not today.
It seemed frivolous, eating the last waffle, when she could have just left it for him, but Santana was nothing if not extremely crafty. She had heard about that post-traumatic stress thing and she knew that Puck was having major episodes of it. He moaned and talked in his sleep about it and she knew that even if he never said anything, he was suffering hardcore. Puck hadn't quite come to terms with the fact that there were people who could turn him into their bitch in about 2.5 seconds. He liked being in charge. He liked being in control.
Eating the last waffle was going to bring him right back to that feeling of not being in control. It was just a waffle to most people, but to Santana, the waffle she was currently making a show of enjoying was going to be her ticket to extra rough sex. The kind that left her barely capable of walking straight for straight. Arguably her favourite kind. Maybe that was kind of kinky - anger turned her on, but fuck it. She was a Latina, wasn't the temper thing kind of ingrained in her personality or some shit? It totally was.
Puck's fist was bunching under the table. She couldn't see his actual hand, but she could see the veins in his arm protruding more than they'd been before. Santana wasn't worried about him hitting her - sure, Puck was a dick but he had morals. He was just really upset. His nostrils were flaring at he was staring at her with eyes that were half rage and half disbelief.
Santana pretended not to notice and kept on munching her Eggo, putting the last piece in her mouth and making a loud noise of satisfied enjoyment. Just to rub a little salt in an open wound, she not only licked her fork, but her fingers, shooting him the briefest of glances as she licked off her last finger. “Mmm,” she mumbled, dabbing at the corners of her mouth with her napkin.
“I can't believe you ate the last fucking Eggo,” Puck mumbled, shaking his head.
“Oh, did you want it?” she asked, arching an eyebrow at him.
“What the fuck did you think 'Leggo my Eggo' meant?” he asked, crossing his arms over his chest.
“I thought you were just quoting a fucking commercial. It's just an Eggo. This isn't juvie. I'm not your little bitch,” Santana reminded him, being careful in the choosing of her words, making sure to rile him up as much as possible.
“Everyone's my bitch,” Puck insisted, clenching his jaw, visibly upset by her choice in words.
“No, Puck. I'm a bitch, but I'm not your bitch,” she countered, raising an eyebrow that was 100% a challenge. And if there was one thing that Santana knew, it was that Noah Puckerman never backed down from a challenge. Standing up, she made her way over to the sink slowly, swinging her hips as she walked.
“Get back here,” Puck growled, looking back at her.
“Make me,” Santana retorted, a glint of mischief in her eye as she threw him a bitchy smirk, before turning back to ward the sink to the plate.
That was it.
Before she really had a chance to process what was happening, Puck was pulling her forcefully by the waist and pinning her up against the wall, holding her against the wall as he pulled her arms up over her head, holding onto her wrists tightly. “What did you say?” he questioned.
Santana kept her lips pressed together tightly, not answering his question. She felt the grip on her wrists tighten slightly, enough to cause her to wince momentarily.
“I said what did you say?” Puck repeated, growling in the way that he had when he was about to toss someone in a dumpster.
“I said make me,” Santana conceded, clenching her jaw at him and throwing her head in that bitchy way that she had perfected over the years. She wasn't going to back down that easily from him. Not when she wanted him angry. She wanted him to be furious, treat her with no mercy.
“You're being a little bitch today,” Puck informed her, leaning in closer to her. “Bitches need to be taught a lesson, so I'm gonna teach you a lesson and you're gonna fucking learn it.”
The seriousness with which he said it sent a shiver up her spine. She could tell from the look in Puck's eye that he knew he had her right where he wanted her. Santana bit her lip. Just the way that he was glaring at her was making her wet. She could feel the heat pooling between her legs as Puck picked her up, pushing her cheerleading bottoms aside as her legs instinctively wrapped around his waist. With no warning, he shoved two fingers inside her, causing her to let out a long moan as her head tilted back.
“So wet. What a desperate little slut,” Puck sneered, shoving his fingers in a little further. “Fear turns you on. Pathetic.”
“Maybe,” Santana smirked, just to grate at his nerves that little extra bit more.
There were his fingers, pounding into her again, rougher than before. “Did I say you could talk, bitch?”
Santana knew where the line was and she knew not to cross it. She simply shook her head. If she wasn't careful, Puck would up and leave her in his anger and then she'd be horny, wet, and alone. And she just wanted him to pound in to her until it hurt.
“Good, you're learning,” he smirked, his eyes flickering with amusement, then anger, as his hand reached to unbuckle his belt, the other wrapped under her legs to help hold her up. Puck made quick work of his zipper, kicking off his jeans. As usual, he wasn't wearing underwear, so he just sprung out.
Santana couldn't help but lick her lips as she looked at his dick. I've missed you. She didn't really think about the fact that she was adding a little fuel to the fire that Puck was carefully stoking.
“I bet you want it, don't you? You want my dick buried deep inside you,” Puck sniggered, noticing her licking her lips. Pushing her panties aside, he pushed into her roughly, burying his entire length in her right away.
Santana had to wince. Puck didn't exactly have a small dick and she usually had to adjust. Puck was usually gentle with her, because even if she definitely wasn't a virgin, she still didn't want to tear anything. In the weeks he'd been in juvie, she'd spent her time scissoring with Brittany, so it wasn't exactly like she was stretched out and at her most ready, but Puck didn't seem to care, pounding mercilessly into her as she inhaled a sharp breath.
“I hope it fucking hurts, you bitch,” Puck insisted, placing his free hand on the wall to steady himself as he pushed into her hard and fast as Santana's fingers dug into his shoulders, causing him to growl. “Don't you dare,” Puck warned as her nails started dragging down his back. “You did this to yourself. Next time... I tell you to... Leggo my Eggo... you fucking... let go of it...”
Puck let out a loud moan as he looked her in the eye, his jaw clenching. Gradually, the pain lessened for her and Santana had to do her best to swallow back her moans. It still hurt, but it was so fucking good. Puck had so much anger pent up and he was letting it all out inside of her, ramming into her mercilessly as she clawed and scratched as his back.
“Look at you.... desperate for my dick... still in your clothes... getting fucked... like it?” Puck asked, making sure to add a rather degrading grunt at the end of it as he pushed into her harder. Her back was hurting from the force of being pushed into the wall over and over again - she was pretty sure it was going to bruise.
“Yes...oh fuck yes,” Santana moaned, running a hand through his mohawk as she felt that familiar sensation starting to build inside her as Puck hit that sweet spot deep inside of her. Her toes were curling and her back was arching.
Puck slowed down his thrusts, noticing her toes curling, a sure sign that she was on the verge of coming. “I don't think so,” he insisted, thrusting just shy of where she wanted him to go. “You're a bitch... bitches don't get to come until they've learned their lesson,” Puck reminded her, looking her in the eye. “Whose bitch are you?” he asked, clenching his jaw as he let out a loud groan.
Santana kept her mouth shut, lips pressed together tightly.
Puck moved his hand down to her clit, pinching it hard as he repeated himself, still thrusting just shy of where she wanted him to be. “I said, whose bitch are you?”
“Yours,” Santana conceded, moaning unhappily. “I'm your bitch,” she said, a little louder.
“Damn right, you're my bitch,” Puck nodded, thrusting into her harder. “So next time I say... Leggo my Eggo... what are you gonna do?”
Santana needed release so badly she would have probably admitted to anything at that point. “Leggo your Eggo,” she whined, arching her back and whimpering desperately.
“Good girl,” Puck nodded, thrusting into her hard again and sending her over the edge as she arched her back and yelled his name. Puck thrust into her a few more times before he was coming as well, moving their hips together as they both came down from their highs, his forehead pressed against hers.
Santana loosened the grip of her nails on his back, running her index finger over one of the scratches, causing Puck to wince slightly through heavy breaths. “Mmm that was hot,” she mumbled, letting her eyelids flutter shut momentarily.
“You're still a bitch. Eating my last fucking Eggo,” Puck insisted, though his tone was lighter than it was before. Some of the pent up frustration was gone, she could tell.
“That wasn't the last Eggo, F. Y. I.,” Santana informed him, shaking her head. “I have another frozen pack in the freezer.”
“So you just -” Puck stammered, catching on to what she had done.
“Yeah,” Santana smirked, holding back a chuckle.
“You really are a bitch,” Puck chuckled, pulling out of her and setting her down on her feet gently before putting his jeans back on.
“Whatever,” she retorted, fixing up her ponytail as she winced.
“So, can I have another waffle now?” he asked, wiggling his eyebrows at her.
Santana gave him an amused smirk. “Oh how the tables have turned...” she sneered, a mischevious glint in her eye.
“Huh, what are you-” Puck began, before widening his eyes. “Wait no. Fuck you, that's not fair! You're a bitch. I want a waffle.” He looked like he was about two seconds away from crying. “I'll do anything, please!”
“Anything?” Santana mused, quirking an eyebrow at him.
“Shit,” Puck mumbled, running a hand through his mohawk.
“Say it,” Santana insisted.
“Saaaan,” he whined, his lip quivering.
“I said say it,” she repeated, hovering dangerously close to the freezer.
“I'myourbitch,” Puck mumbled, really quickly and barely audible.
“What was that?” Santana asked, laughing loudly as Puck growled at her.
“I'm your bitch,” Puck repeated.
Santana just shook her head, tossing him a look over her shoulder as she grabbed the waffles. “Damn straight,” she smirked.
It was time to go back to being the nice girl now, because that's who Noah Puckerman needed her to be. They were bitches, but they were each other's bitches, and that's how it would always be.
Rating: R
Pairings: Puck/Santana
Summary: Santana steals the last eggo and Puck isn't happy at all. Written for a prompt at the glee_kink_meme . Hope you like it OP.
Santana Lopez knows she's kind of a bitch. Actually, she's a total bitch, but she tends to have a soft spot for Noah Puckerman. It's just always been that way. Ever since he beat up Artie (back in the day when Artie could still walk) in the first grade, she's kind of been hooked and while she's a frigid bitch to just about everyone, she shows Puck another side of herself. He's earned it.
But sometimes, being that semi-decent girl just doesn't work out in her favour. Santana's nothing if not an opportunist, and she knows when to turn the bitch on and off. For instance, she turned the bitch off and stroked Puck's ego a little bit when he was telling his waffles story at Breadstix. She knew that was total bullshit. She'd been to visit Puck and he had looked miserable - yes, she had gone to visit him in juvie. They both came from families that kind of didn't give a shit about them, so she had kind of made it her mission or something to look out for Puck (and over the years, that had morphed into getting ready for the missionary). Another nice thing she had done for him.
But now, being a nice girl wasn't going to get her shit. She could admit it, she was horny, but she was a special kind of horny. She didn't just want to get laid. Santana had a little problem. Every once in a while she liked it hard. She liked being roughed up a little bit. She was kind of bummed that Artie and Brittany were rekindling their romance or whatever fruity ass term Berry was calling it these days from her little blissful bubble of ignorance. Santana was tired of it. She just wanted to fuck away her frustration without having to discuss shit afterwards. Honestly, Puck could be such a fucking girl sometimes. Santana didn't talk about things. She just clawed them away with whoever was the nearest warm body - most of the time, that just happened to be Puck.
And so it came to be that they were eating waffles in her kitchen. It was like four in the afternoon and he was shirtless after mowing her grass for her. His nipple ring was gone and it looked like it had been ripped out. A part of her wanted to ask, but she was scared to. Plus, asking didn't really serve her purposes. It wasn't really time for waffles, but Puck was bitching and moaning that he was hungry and she just wanted him to shut up. So she had offered to give him waffles. She knew he loved his waffles and those fuckers in juvie had stolen all of Puck's waffles, so she figured it was the least she could do considering that technically, she was pulling a fast one on him.
It was normal for her to just make stuff and put it between them and they'd serve themselves. Puck honestly spent more time at her house than he did anywhere else when he wasn't off being a badass and pulling whatever latest dipshit scheme he had come up with. But no matter how hungry she was (and sometimes, she was really hungry - Puck wore her out sometimes, she could admit it), she always left the last serving of whatever they were having to him.
But not today.
It seemed frivolous, eating the last waffle, when she could have just left it for him, but Santana was nothing if not extremely crafty. She had heard about that post-traumatic stress thing and she knew that Puck was having major episodes of it. He moaned and talked in his sleep about it and she knew that even if he never said anything, he was suffering hardcore. Puck hadn't quite come to terms with the fact that there were people who could turn him into their bitch in about 2.5 seconds. He liked being in charge. He liked being in control.
Eating the last waffle was going to bring him right back to that feeling of not being in control. It was just a waffle to most people, but to Santana, the waffle she was currently making a show of enjoying was going to be her ticket to extra rough sex. The kind that left her barely capable of walking straight for straight. Arguably her favourite kind. Maybe that was kind of kinky - anger turned her on, but fuck it. She was a Latina, wasn't the temper thing kind of ingrained in her personality or some shit? It totally was.
Puck's fist was bunching under the table. She couldn't see his actual hand, but she could see the veins in his arm protruding more than they'd been before. Santana wasn't worried about him hitting her - sure, Puck was a dick but he had morals. He was just really upset. His nostrils were flaring at he was staring at her with eyes that were half rage and half disbelief.
Santana pretended not to notice and kept on munching her Eggo, putting the last piece in her mouth and making a loud noise of satisfied enjoyment. Just to rub a little salt in an open wound, she not only licked her fork, but her fingers, shooting him the briefest of glances as she licked off her last finger. “Mmm,” she mumbled, dabbing at the corners of her mouth with her napkin.
“I can't believe you ate the last fucking Eggo,” Puck mumbled, shaking his head.
“Oh, did you want it?” she asked, arching an eyebrow at him.
“What the fuck did you think 'Leggo my Eggo' meant?” he asked, crossing his arms over his chest.
“I thought you were just quoting a fucking commercial. It's just an Eggo. This isn't juvie. I'm not your little bitch,” Santana reminded him, being careful in the choosing of her words, making sure to rile him up as much as possible.
“Everyone's my bitch,” Puck insisted, clenching his jaw, visibly upset by her choice in words.
“No, Puck. I'm a bitch, but I'm not your bitch,” she countered, raising an eyebrow that was 100% a challenge. And if there was one thing that Santana knew, it was that Noah Puckerman never backed down from a challenge. Standing up, she made her way over to the sink slowly, swinging her hips as she walked.
“Get back here,” Puck growled, looking back at her.
“Make me,” Santana retorted, a glint of mischief in her eye as she threw him a bitchy smirk, before turning back to ward the sink to the plate.
That was it.
Before she really had a chance to process what was happening, Puck was pulling her forcefully by the waist and pinning her up against the wall, holding her against the wall as he pulled her arms up over her head, holding onto her wrists tightly. “What did you say?” he questioned.
Santana kept her lips pressed together tightly, not answering his question. She felt the grip on her wrists tighten slightly, enough to cause her to wince momentarily.
“I said what did you say?” Puck repeated, growling in the way that he had when he was about to toss someone in a dumpster.
“I said make me,” Santana conceded, clenching her jaw at him and throwing her head in that bitchy way that she had perfected over the years. She wasn't going to back down that easily from him. Not when she wanted him angry. She wanted him to be furious, treat her with no mercy.
“You're being a little bitch today,” Puck informed her, leaning in closer to her. “Bitches need to be taught a lesson, so I'm gonna teach you a lesson and you're gonna fucking learn it.”
The seriousness with which he said it sent a shiver up her spine. She could tell from the look in Puck's eye that he knew he had her right where he wanted her. Santana bit her lip. Just the way that he was glaring at her was making her wet. She could feel the heat pooling between her legs as Puck picked her up, pushing her cheerleading bottoms aside as her legs instinctively wrapped around his waist. With no warning, he shoved two fingers inside her, causing her to let out a long moan as her head tilted back.
“So wet. What a desperate little slut,” Puck sneered, shoving his fingers in a little further. “Fear turns you on. Pathetic.”
“Maybe,” Santana smirked, just to grate at his nerves that little extra bit more.
There were his fingers, pounding into her again, rougher than before. “Did I say you could talk, bitch?”
Santana knew where the line was and she knew not to cross it. She simply shook her head. If she wasn't careful, Puck would up and leave her in his anger and then she'd be horny, wet, and alone. And she just wanted him to pound in to her until it hurt.
“Good, you're learning,” he smirked, his eyes flickering with amusement, then anger, as his hand reached to unbuckle his belt, the other wrapped under her legs to help hold her up. Puck made quick work of his zipper, kicking off his jeans. As usual, he wasn't wearing underwear, so he just sprung out.
Santana couldn't help but lick her lips as she looked at his dick. I've missed you. She didn't really think about the fact that she was adding a little fuel to the fire that Puck was carefully stoking.
“I bet you want it, don't you? You want my dick buried deep inside you,” Puck sniggered, noticing her licking her lips. Pushing her panties aside, he pushed into her roughly, burying his entire length in her right away.
Santana had to wince. Puck didn't exactly have a small dick and she usually had to adjust. Puck was usually gentle with her, because even if she definitely wasn't a virgin, she still didn't want to tear anything. In the weeks he'd been in juvie, she'd spent her time scissoring with Brittany, so it wasn't exactly like she was stretched out and at her most ready, but Puck didn't seem to care, pounding mercilessly into her as she inhaled a sharp breath.
“I hope it fucking hurts, you bitch,” Puck insisted, placing his free hand on the wall to steady himself as he pushed into her hard and fast as Santana's fingers dug into his shoulders, causing him to growl. “Don't you dare,” Puck warned as her nails started dragging down his back. “You did this to yourself. Next time... I tell you to... Leggo my Eggo... you fucking... let go of it...”
Puck let out a loud moan as he looked her in the eye, his jaw clenching. Gradually, the pain lessened for her and Santana had to do her best to swallow back her moans. It still hurt, but it was so fucking good. Puck had so much anger pent up and he was letting it all out inside of her, ramming into her mercilessly as she clawed and scratched as his back.
“Look at you.... desperate for my dick... still in your clothes... getting fucked... like it?” Puck asked, making sure to add a rather degrading grunt at the end of it as he pushed into her harder. Her back was hurting from the force of being pushed into the wall over and over again - she was pretty sure it was going to bruise.
“Yes...oh fuck yes,” Santana moaned, running a hand through his mohawk as she felt that familiar sensation starting to build inside her as Puck hit that sweet spot deep inside of her. Her toes were curling and her back was arching.
Puck slowed down his thrusts, noticing her toes curling, a sure sign that she was on the verge of coming. “I don't think so,” he insisted, thrusting just shy of where she wanted him to go. “You're a bitch... bitches don't get to come until they've learned their lesson,” Puck reminded her, looking her in the eye. “Whose bitch are you?” he asked, clenching his jaw as he let out a loud groan.
Santana kept her mouth shut, lips pressed together tightly.
Puck moved his hand down to her clit, pinching it hard as he repeated himself, still thrusting just shy of where she wanted him to be. “I said, whose bitch are you?”
“Yours,” Santana conceded, moaning unhappily. “I'm your bitch,” she said, a little louder.
“Damn right, you're my bitch,” Puck nodded, thrusting into her harder. “So next time I say... Leggo my Eggo... what are you gonna do?”
Santana needed release so badly she would have probably admitted to anything at that point. “Leggo your Eggo,” she whined, arching her back and whimpering desperately.
“Good girl,” Puck nodded, thrusting into her hard again and sending her over the edge as she arched her back and yelled his name. Puck thrust into her a few more times before he was coming as well, moving their hips together as they both came down from their highs, his forehead pressed against hers.
Santana loosened the grip of her nails on his back, running her index finger over one of the scratches, causing Puck to wince slightly through heavy breaths. “Mmm that was hot,” she mumbled, letting her eyelids flutter shut momentarily.
“You're still a bitch. Eating my last fucking Eggo,” Puck insisted, though his tone was lighter than it was before. Some of the pent up frustration was gone, she could tell.
“That wasn't the last Eggo, F. Y. I.,” Santana informed him, shaking her head. “I have another frozen pack in the freezer.”
“So you just -” Puck stammered, catching on to what she had done.
“Yeah,” Santana smirked, holding back a chuckle.
“You really are a bitch,” Puck chuckled, pulling out of her and setting her down on her feet gently before putting his jeans back on.
“Whatever,” she retorted, fixing up her ponytail as she winced.
“So, can I have another waffle now?” he asked, wiggling his eyebrows at her.
Santana gave him an amused smirk. “Oh how the tables have turned...” she sneered, a mischevious glint in her eye.
“Huh, what are you-” Puck began, before widening his eyes. “Wait no. Fuck you, that's not fair! You're a bitch. I want a waffle.” He looked like he was about two seconds away from crying. “I'll do anything, please!”
“Anything?” Santana mused, quirking an eyebrow at him.
“Shit,” Puck mumbled, running a hand through his mohawk.
“Say it,” Santana insisted.
“Saaaan,” he whined, his lip quivering.
“I said say it,” she repeated, hovering dangerously close to the freezer.
“I'myourbitch,” Puck mumbled, really quickly and barely audible.
“What was that?” Santana asked, laughing loudly as Puck growled at her.
“I'm your bitch,” Puck repeated.
Santana just shook her head, tossing him a look over her shoulder as she grabbed the waffles. “Damn straight,” she smirked.
It was time to go back to being the nice girl now, because that's who Noah Puckerman needed her to be. They were bitches, but they were each other's bitches, and that's how it would always be.