#I bet he does a silly dance | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

neopuppy · 1 year

Text

Shameless (M)

pairing. step-son Jeno x step-mom reader

genre. stepcest, infidelity, Jeno hates his dad, young trophy wife step-mom

wc. 10k

warnings. dubcon, profanity, exercise/body talk, Jeno has a thing for sweat, smut warnings under cut. minors DNI.

now playing. Shameless//Camila Cabello

smut warnings. masturbation, mommy kink, coercion, a lot of breast focus, reader has large breasts, oral, improper use of a cucumber.., raw fucking, noncon filming, wet messy etc..

“She’s a little too young, even for you.”

Jeno’s tongue drags along the backs of his teeth peering over his father’s shoulder for the last 10 minutes as he idly scrolled through various photos and short video clips. Most innocent enough, cute selfies showing off your pretty fanned out eyelashes, a new lip gloss shade, or just an adorable smile.

The videos his dad took time to watch made Jeno’s breath hitch, looping the few seconds of you showing off a new bikini for summer, filming yourself in the mirror and turning to show off a scandalous yet feminine pattern right above the indentation of bikini bottom scrunched between your pert buttcheeks.

“I work very hard, son, believe I deserve a pretty young thing.” He snickers, having noticed the youngers reflection on his phone screen a few minutes ago. “Something about this one..”

“Where’d you find her? Another sugar baby app you had to pay to join?” Jeno crosses his arms, glaring daggers into the back of his father’s head. Pathetic, working hard for what? To blow your funds on women who probably gag over your shoulder while you fuck them and lose your stamina after two minutes?

His father chuckles, swiping the social media app shut to open his messages. “You’re going to hate this but she approached me first.” With a proud smile he turns to face his son, showing off back and forth messaging between the two of you. Majority of the context is similar to how two cute shy teens would chat, nothing racy despite knowing his father’s likely buying time to pounce and unleash an arsenal of embarrassing boomer dick pics.

“You’re lying.”

Standing up, his father sneers, a smile hidden somewhere behind his resentful expression. “Believe it or not, your old man’s still got it. Now, if you don’t mind— I have a date with your soon-to-be step-mom.” He winks, purposefully bumping roughly into his son’s shoulder on his way out of the living room; leaving Jeno standing there rubbing at the spot mindlessly, jaw tight as he recounts your username to conduct his own investigation.

His first summer home in years and this is what his asshole father wants to pull? Jeno grimaces, plopping down on the couch to commence his search and find your other social media platforms.

“Twenty-fucking-two? He’s out of his mind.” Muttering to himself, he quickly taps in and out of various videos. The fact that you follow dance trends is enough to make his eyes roll, concentrating harder than he should have to on your face and the quirky silly wide eyes you make at the camera instead of the obscene way your breasts bounce freely beneath a much too tight and thin crop top, braless. Of course.

Jeno bets you did approach his dad first, he can picture it now. A sweet little helpless thing miraculously bumping into him at Whole Foods or some other ridiculously overpriced grocery store, batting your big doe eyes irresistibly after calculating the worth of the ludicrous gold Rolex adorning his wrist. No doubt adding the sum of his Gucci loafers and Dior sunnies; undoubtedly pushed up into his salt and pepper hair as he read over the nutritional information of a new all-natural all-organic sugar free gluten free energy drink.

You probably struck up conversation from there, perched yourself on his dad’s arm striking up flirtatious charm about the product in his hands, just to lean in closer and smash your ample chest against his arm.

Jeno clicks his phone shut frustrated, balling his fist open and shut to watch the blood flow down and redden his skin.

It infuriates him how easily his father continues to win, after the divorce his view of the man he once admired could never be repaired. What he once respected and admired all came crumbling down as his mother broke down crying in his arms after years of pretending to act dumb and not notice late evenings at the office, extended company trips, or the stains of lipstick shades she’d never wear and remnants of musky oud that simply never complimented her skin.

Jeno rests his eyes, ignoring the itching ache in his chest. What could he do anyway? What did his dad have to lose that money couldn’t buy him a new and better version of.

A house? A car? More designer brands and jewelry to mark his status in the upper class?

It only took a month, one fucking month, and the answer became clear as his dad lifted you up by your trim waist hidden under ugly burly veiny paws. The smile across his face so arrogant and cocky, hoisting his young little play thing up in the pool just to watch your beautiful round chest bounce in his face beneath triangles of material hardly containing you.

Jeno can’t deny he gets something out of it too, something he stores away for later along with the cheerful sweet moaned giggles you let out after splashing his father’s face with water and demanding in the most helpless submissive tone to be put down. Bet his dad loves that, in fact, he knows he does. It didn’t even take a full two weeks before you moved in with a fat diamond rock on your ring finger. The sight of it nearly blinded him when it caught the glare of light.

Jeno knows he can’t keep up with his father’s wealth, not yet. Material things aren’t his strength either, but as he jerks off into his palm by his bedroom window facing the backyard where you’ve taken to performing your morning pilates, his eyes concentrate on your insane flexibility. The tip of your head near your feet keeping your taut ass up for him to salivate over, and now he knows one thing for sure.

He needs to fuck his step-mom.

Jeno’s usually a morning person, but leave it to his father to ruin that for him.

“Kiss kiss.”

Disgusting.

Heavily wrinkled lips pout in your face, his dad slithered around your waist from behind as you finished packing your new husband's lunch. Really, it’s repulsive to watch unfold every morning. The only perk being the smile you beam Jeno’s way with your much too chipper and excited ‘Good Morning!’ As you skip to the fridge to pour some of your lemon water into a glass, breasts all round and taunting from where he sits; nipples always hard, piercing through your collection of various nighties and tank tops.

“Anything for breakfast? I can whip up some pancakes real quick if you want.”

Jeno tries to hide his grin, as much as he wishes to act like a brat— he can’t. The thing is, you’re lovely in every sense of the word. Too lovely, doting, and appealing, never once causing him annoyance.

He wants to scoff, demand you whip up the most delicious fluffiest pancakes, take your top off and throw the batter down your bare chest before laughing in your face to clean it up; lifting up one breasts at a time with fat wads of tears in your eyes as you plead for him to stop— stop being mean, stop smearing more of the mess he’s caused you to make across your lips.

“Nothing for me.” Jeno motions to the protein shake resting in his grip. “I’m trying to lean out.”

“Lean out?” Your smiles too soft, lifting to one side with surprise. “I can’t imagine you have anything but muscle left, when's the last time you had your body fat measured?”

“Ah, you don’t know because you haven’t seen me shirtless, yet.” Jeno says, more as an invitation to get a rise out of you, having to swallow back a sigh at your lack of response; not even a hint of interest. “Need to slim down my waist a bit to really achieve the shape I want.”

“Well if you ask me..” Jeno waits, appreciating how lightly you float around the kitchen to gather your fruits and toppings to decorate your yogurt bowl with. “You look really fit, your waist is practically non-existent.”

“How much do you weigh?” He asks abruptly, evidently throwing you off by the way your gaze widens in shock and a stutter passes between your lips, quickly averting your attention back to the half chopped strawberry in front of you.

“Wha— uhm..”

“Sorry, that was rude.” Jeno smiles, awkwardly scratching his nape. “I was wondering if it’s less than what I can press.”

A dazed gleam coats your iris, staring back dumbfounded by the image of your step-son working his hips up with crossed eyebrows, using all the force and strength of his muscle mass to lift.

“How much can you do?” You ask, clearing your throat and refocusing on your breakfast. The question more to keep up with the conversation before you run off to hide in your bedroom.

Jeno lets out a breathy laugh. “I shouldn’t have asked, don’t know what I was thinking.” Pushing up from the kitchen island to stand, he pauses before making his way to exit; having taken to a grueling AM workout after downing his shakes. “I can definitely press double, if not more than what you weigh.”

He doesn’t miss the way your hands come to a halt, gripping around the knife in your hold, eyes silently falling shut with a deep breath.

“You should come join me some time, bet I can lift you easily.”

Jeno’s grateful at least that his father has no choice but to work morning to evening five days a week to earn the lavish lifestyle he’s achieved. He’s thankful because you love to perform your afternoon stretches in the backyard, the landscape his bedroom window coincidentally faces.

“So flexible.” He mumbles to himself, forehead resting against the window frame where he stands with his hand buried inside of his boxers, mindlessly thumbing at the slit of his cock for a hint of relief. Your mid-day sessions only last about over an hour, depending on how far you want to push yourself.

Sure, the splits always made his balls tighten up, having to slow down the pace and pull at his length, circling the base to quell the sudden urge to throw you up and down on his cock fully spread out.

But really, the extended puppy pose takes him over the edge every time.

Jerking off from his bedroom window has become unsatisfactory, the best part is really after when you walk in with your smile high off endorphins, gently patting the sweat that’s accumulated on your gorgeous décolleté.

“Oh Jeno, I thought you’d gone out.”

He hums, following your movements around the kitchen to replenish your hydration, noting the beads of sweat continuously rolling down between the dip in your back. His teeth bite down on the tip of his tongue, tempted to shove you up against the fridge and lick them all clean before falling to his knees to suck the dark patch between your thighs.

“Good workout?” Jeno never tries to hide that he’s checking you out, he makes it obvious everyday. “Looks like you really worked up a sweat.”

“Oh yeah, it’s so hot outside.” The lack of eye contact you’re able to maintain indicates discomfort, judging by the way you try to clean off your stomach and arms.

“My dad has a thing about sweat, right?” Jeno offhandedly mentions, not missing the awkward twitch in your cheek to hide a grimace. “That’s why you’re always so clean by the time he gets home? The water bill has to be through the roof with how often he has you doing laundry.. not that he cares.”

“I suppose his nose is a bit sensitive.”

“He always complained about how my mom smelled, her hair after a day of not washing, the smell of the dinner she cooked him on her hands still.” He continues, enjoying your lack of reply. “He’s picky about a lot of things, I’m sure you know what I mean.”

A fake smile shuts down the conversation, nodding toward the staircase. “It’s time for my shower.”

Jeno nods, shamelessly eyeing the stains of wetness under your large breasts, pushed together even tighter by the binding sports bra meant to keep you held in place through vigorous activity. “Wouldn’t want daddy to get mad now, would we?”

A wash of embarrassment has you scurrying away from your step-son quickly, leaving behind the small towel drenched in your sweat that immediately catches his attention.

Jeno definitely inherited the same sensitive sense of smell from his father, but unlike the old man he’d become more addicted to the different places his nose had led him to. A smirk lifts his lips, tucking the towel up above his mouth to deeply inhale. It’s mind-numbing how delectable you smell, he even sucks on the remnants of damp that hasn’t fully evaporated, quietly mewling within his chest.

The telltale sound of the upstairs shower from his father’s bedroom tears him from slipping into euphoric madness, cock already half-erect as he trudges up the stairs and finds himself tip-toeing into your bedroom, the bathroom door only softly creaking as he makes space to peer through. The daily routine of watching you scrub down every inch of skin, so smooth, hairless, meticulously shaving clean each short hint of stuble. His father must be real demanding of how his little stay at home house-wife should present herself, of course.

Bunching the nearly dried towel inside of his briefs, Jeno groans between clenched lips, rubbing the cotton fabric up and down his length, his heart rate pumping up to a high-speed when you lift a leg to reach deep between your thighs and leave the fleshy area hidden there completely bald.

That will change once he manages to infiltrate, he’ll make you change for him.

“You should go out son, I don’t want you hanging around the house.” Jeno’s dad doesn’t even bother to mask his disdain, shoving a wad of cash at his chest. “Scram.”

That would be too easy, it’s not as if his friends haven’t been blowing up his phone about some party tonight. He’ll plan to leave later and miss the sound of his father’s pig-like moaning squeals when he takes five minutes to fuck you. For now, his ass isn’t moving from one of the pool chairs, opting for the more shaded area under a large canopy to watch from.

Why would he want to miss out on the display you put on for his old man, stepping out in a tight little two piece bikini that does nothing to cover any of your curves. Jeno’s cock twitches as you slowly step out of your robe and his dad whistles making grabby hands at you to enter the pool. “Jump in, baby doll.”

Sick. God he hates hearing that old worn voice order your around. He hates how you giggle and enter from the steps, giving him a half-assed jump only for your breasts to lift up under your chin before the water immerses your perfect body, lifting back out pouring cascades of wet down your shoulders and arms before his dad snatches you up by the waist. “That’s my girl.”

Ten. Nine. Eight. Seven. Six. Five—

Jeno takes a deep breath through his nose, an irritating pinch forming between his eyebrows the more you indulge his father, dawning the smile only reserved for your husband: hugging him close between your mounds of breasts as he releases a deep moan and licks up your neck.

His stomach churns the longer he watches, shoving himself to stand and move to the jacuzzi where he can’t help but to still watch from, ignoring the daggers his father’s eyes shoot at him on his way in. He won’t dare enter the pool while the two of you canoodle in there, preferring to stay clueless as to what your lower halves could be up to, the sight of his dad’s thick ugly hands cupping your breasts from is behind already enough to make him gag.. maybe if not for the shocked moan you let out, wrapping around his wrists shyly. “Babe.. we’re not alone.”

You whisper, but Jeno traces the words from your lips, ducking lower into the jacuzzi until one of the jets rumbles against his stomach, chin grazing under the hot water.

“Ignore him.” His dad could give two fucks, squeezing under your chest with more firmness, pushing them together creating a long dip of cleavage.

Jeno can see the lack of comfort in your hidden gaze, keeping your eyelids lowered with a demure embarrassed smile, saving face only for your husband's pleasure. He knows if you couldn’t sense another pair of eyes on you, you’d be your usual bubbly coquettish self, flouncing around burying his dad’s face in your chest, giggling all loud and cute.

The thrill of watching your discomfort escalate makes his cock kick up, lowering down onto his knees for only his eyes to peer over the jacuzzi’s ledge, noticing the way your gaze skirts by quickly to not give him enough acknowledgment to feel seen, but to stay aware of just how much your step-son can see. It’s easy from the angle to remove his father’s existence behind you, especially when he shifts closer to the ledge and one of the jets blasts right against his groin.

A shiver runs up his chest, biting down on his bottom lip as he stays transfixed on your flimsily covered breasts abused and bounced around. He has to hold back a curse when he finally unties his swim trunks, tugging free his length right in front of the burst of bubbled water. The pressure pushing out of the jet breaks against his slit, choking down a groan when your gaze finally meets his, mouth tense and ashamed.

He can’t keep a smile off his face, tugging harder at himself as your forehead wrinkles together, breathily arched up by the force pushing your breasts up and down against the splash of blue chlorine water.

The water around him boils against his skin even hotter, short of breath under the heat, short of breath from the image of your lips parting open. Jeno imagines you can bend your neck forward and wrap around his girth passing between your tits, it wouldn't be hard to reach anyway. Jerking up, he pushes against the jet hole, cock instantly engulfed by an intense amount of pressure blowing out against him. The push and pull only causes his stomach to clench, sink in and hollow out his middle-section.

You were doing a better job at ignoring him before, unable to stop for seconds now to watch your step-son’s facial features contort together… he can’t, he wouldn’t..

Nostrils flare, shoulders hidden under the bubbly foam around him, jerking mindlessly into the jet. It’s like breaking a dam over and over again, the pressure of release spilling out against his thick size, the only thing missing being your convulsing slick warmth squeezing and fighting to push him free as he thrusts in harder, fucking you full beyond capacity you can handle.

Jeno could care less about the predicament he’s landed in here, stroking his cock without control like some wild animal, succumbing to his desires and needs to bend you into all kinds of positions. He knows he can too after weeks of watching you move your body bonelessly, get you twisted up like a pretzel, face down ass up, legs behind your head full-nelson you flat on your back with his dick full slotted inside, grinding down just to watch you fail to squirm away. He’d leave you with no room to move, let alone breathe, fat tits pushed up under your chin, jiggling up and down and up and down with each thrust.

“Fuck.” He’s close now, tongue lolling out at the gasp that hitches in your throat. Siren-like eyes glazed over from the constant manipulation your breasts have been put through. What a fucking pervert, watching you struggle to collect yourself and maintain your etiquette.

Does his dad even savor the way every inch of your body tastes? Does he suck on your tits until your nipples pebble up rock hard and dig into the roof of his mouth? Jeno never see’s a mark on you, no… daddy doesn’t play rough with his toys, does he.

Jeno would though, fuck he’d have you screaming to the high heavens. He can’t hide the bob of his head the closer he reaches, catching your fully widened eyes stuck on him, and your bikini top finally coming undone after minutes of tugging and kneading.

Hands too large to be yours come up just a second too late to cover over your exposed nipples allowing Jeno the chance to see how swollen and pert and big they’ve gotten, probably prodding at his dad’s hideous rough palms.

The wet bounce of fat under his control has him emptying out into the jet, most of his release blown away from the powerful stream mixing in with the rest of the ramped jacuzzi water.

He has to calm himself, overheated from the drop back down to reality, overheated from the sun burning down onto the already steamy hot tub of water. Taking his time, he’s lazy to exit, patting off his reddened chest and stinging skin to a somewhat dry finish. The heat hardly subsides with eyes on him, specifically yours..

“I said scram you damn brat.”

His father’s shrill tone gives him an excuse to glance over, most of your frame hidden by his wide back stretched around you to hug you against the pool wall for discretion to tie your top back up.

“Yeah yeah, don’t wait up for me.” Not that he would, Jeno didn’t really mean that for his father anyway. The lingering gaze grazing down his body taking in every crevice and dip of bare naked muscle though, part of him hopes that you will wait up. He means it though, even with one more glance your direction before heading inside, finding your eyes for only a millisecond.

Don’t wait up mommy, I’ll be too busy fucking any hole presented to me, maybe even multiple. Anything to curb the incessant growing need to get you alone, slam you down and fuck you until you’re ripping that ring off your finger.

Jeno has to admit, he’s impressed by how long you’ve held it together, managed to keep up your composure around him despite his best efforts to make you start to crack.

Soon. Real soon.

“You’re around the house way too much, either get a job or get out.” Jeno’s father barged into his bedroom after that little pool escapade. Throwing pamphlets for schools across the country at his face. “I put enough money in your bank account, it’s time for you to quit fucking around and make something of yourself.

Jeno knows deep down inside his father’s ulterior motivation came from an all too pretty adorable wife, evidently unhappy with the way his son has decided to forgo his gym membership in favor of walking around shirtless dripping in sweat after using the home equipment.

He couldn’t put up much of an argument with the old man. It’s not entirely your fault he found his ass on a train 7 hours away the next week, just in time for a new semester.

Sure, it’s not entirely your fault, he can’t put all of that insecure assholes blame on you.

But it is your fault, and that long silent train ride gave him all the time to ponder, reflect, plot, devise the next step. Work harder, fuck more, leave you with no choice but to wipe the drool from your chin at the mere sight of your step-son.

If only it could be that easy. He really can’t stand how reluctant you are to trip and fall, landing right into the palm of his hands breasts first. Can’t stand the way you still parade around town proudly introducing yourself as the Mrs. Lee. The side-eyes and whispers never affect you, too happy to give a damn with each guiltless swipe of your husband’s black American Express.

God, he can’t stand it. He can’t stand you.

Jeno really can’t stand his step-mom.

Not because you’re awful or even a bitch, no.. in fact, you’re perfect. Too perfect for his nasty cheater asshole father who could care less for his mother, now ex-wife.

“Ah Jeno, it’s so nice to have you home again.” Your sweet cheerful voice interrupts his fuming thoughts, the back of his head instantly relaxing in the mound of your breasts as you circle his neck and lean down to hug him. “You hungry? I stocked up on all of your favorites.”

Nuzzling back into your warm embrace, he sighs, eyes drifting shut to inhale the notes of peach and cucumber wafting from your freshly cleansed skin. Supple soft radiant skin he knows you spend meticulous hours of the day exfoliating, lotioning, massaging with oil only for your useless husband to rub his old disgusting rough hands upon.

“Missed cooking for me?” He mumbles, shifting to bury his nose in the column of your throat to fully immerse himself in your savory scent.

“Look how skinny you’ve come back, that school not feeding you properly or something?” You reprimand, patting over his flat stomach lightly. “I have to make sure to keep you full for the next couple of weeks before your break ends.”

Nudging the top of his head with your chin, you continue into the kitchen, still in your silky pajama set. Something short, hardly covering your abundant chest, dad wouldn’t have his young little trophy wife any other way, always ready for the taking.

Jeno can only imagine how many mornings his father has snuck up on you making breakfast, bending you over to fill you up before heading to work. Fucking bastard doesn’t deserve to even touch you, let alone any of those fake moans you must practice to please him.

“Are you worried about me?” Jeno’s chair scratches across the kitchen tile, slowly lifting up to get a better look at your buttcheeks squeezed by your panties, innocently bent over in search of a pan. “Maybe the school cafeteria doesn’t serve anything that satisfies my hunger.”

“I’ll fix that,” too distracted on your hunt for the right spices and oils, you fail to notice how close Jeno’s gotten, hovering behind you with a smirk as your robe slips from your shoulder. “You’re the one who wanted to go to school so far away. You could be eating my home cooking everyday if you’d just stayed local.”

“…is that so?” A grin teases at his lips, halting your hand from adjusting your robe to push it down left to fall at your feet.

A shiver runs up your spine sensing his breath fanning across your shoulder, palms smoothing down your waist to your hips. “Jeno?”

“I’m hungry, mommy.”

“Jeno? Wha—“ your hips stay locked in place, shoved against the kitchen counter by the stronger ones behind you knocking forward to trap you.

“I missed you too, mommy.” Shoving his hips forward, Jeno’s girth slots between your flimsily covered ass, rutting quickly to lodge between and create delicious friction against his cock. “You know what I really missed?”

“Je-Jeno.. what are you..”

“Last summer when you moved in, every different ridiculously tiny bikini you wore around the pool. Your fat tits barely contained, just how dad likes it huh? I guess we have that in common.” Keeping you held against the counter with his hips grinding in circles against your ass, hands find a way to your shoulders, swiftly dropping down the straps of your nightgown leaving your breast to bounce out freely. The morning crisp air circulating around the house breezes past your nipples, hardening the buds instantaneously.

“Sweetie, this.. this isn’t right, your dad—“

“Is an asshole.” Jeno bites, cupping your breasts that overflow in his hold, the fat squeezing between his digits pushing out a low groan from deep within his chest. “Fucking decrepit dickhead, bet he can’t even get hard from this alone? I’ve seen that erectile dysfunction prescription.. can’t even take care of you and fuck you right can he, mommy?”

To emphasize his point, Jeno’s hips swerve, fucking forward vigorously for the thick shape of his rod to slam between your panty covered behind, night gown bunched up over your hips from his incessant humping. “Can’t tell me a pretty young thing like you doesn’t miss it, hours and hours of getting the life fucked out of you.”

The kneading and massaging at your chest accompanied with your step-sons evidently large size has you panting, hands gripping the kitchen counter for some relief. Shaking your head, you try to ignore the way your hips rut back to find his, biting back a moan from escaping. “Jeno, please.. sweetie, d-don’t—your dad..”

A rough slap under your breast silences you, the fat rippling under Jeno’s strength as he delivers another slap, working in succession to bounce and smack each with his chin perched over your shoulder rambling on and on about how good you look like this. Perfectly pliant, needy, face full of ecstasy all thanks to your step-son.

“Dad has great taste, I’ll give the old fuck that.” Jeno snickers, teeth digging into the vein lining the side of your throat. “Had me hard as a rock fucking into my fist all summer, tried to get over you by filling up any hole.. couldn’t get your pretty body off my mind.”

“Jeno, baby.. w-we can’t. Your dad, he’ll.. he’ll kill you.”

Breath staggers against your neck at the term of endearment, hips fucking against you in earnest. “You think I fucking care about him? What about you? What about this mess you’ve made mommy? How can you do this to me? Tempt me all the time with these perfect fucking tits and expect me to leave you alone now?”

“I’m sorry, I’m s-sorry Jeno.. I didn’t—“

“Baby, I’m your baby.” Jeno pinches your nipples roughly, pulling and slapping forcing a loud echo of skin on skin to barrel across the kitchen. Jackhammering his hips faster against your ass. “Tell me to stop, don’t fucking tell me what dad wants. You tell me to stop.”

“B-baby… I-I…” a sad pathetic cry sounds, dropping forward loosely as your thighs tremble erratically, held up only the rough grip on your chest undoubtedly leaving behind marks of nails and bruising.

“Must be true.” Jeno grunts, shoving your underwear down. “Like father, like son.”

“Jeno, please, you can’t do this!” It’s harder now to fight him off, roughly taken by your chest, fondled like some little doll only there to pleasure him. “If—if he finds out—“

“Don’t worry about that senial bastard, he wouldn’t be able to read a sign even if it was spelled out for him.” Your step-son doesn’t relent, fucking against your panties roughly until the his stiffed up cock shoves the material between your ass. “You’re so wet for me, you feel that? Feel me?”

Jeno thrusts forward angling his size right between your poorly clenched thighs, ass bouncing back against his pelvic bone. “Think you can handle that? Too big for you mommy?” He reaches down to whip out his cock, expertly dragging his fully hard length out to slot against your soaked covered core. The contact makes his eyes roll up, long eyelashes fluttering rapidly impairing his vision for a minute as his size drags against the wet shape of your cunt.

“Oh fuck fuck.” Jeno refuses to cum like this, even if his stomach muscles contort and suck in viciously. He swallows down a hissed breath, jerking back to fuck against your drenched panties in earnest.

“J-Jeno.. please!”

“You want it, huh? Wanna get fucked by a big fat cock finally?” Jeno bites back a laugh, mostly a groan as the tip of his cock ruts against your clit. “Daddy can’t fuck you the way you need, can’t get you off. When’s the last time you had a real orgasm? Not that whiny shit you fake for him.”

Inner-turmoil loses to your arousal, forced to slide up and down what feels like a forearm between your thighs. Your good sense dissipates the more your cunt spreads around the girth pushing between your folds, aching to feel each pulsating vein lining your step-son’s length drag against your wet slick pussy.

“I’m… fuck Jeno..” between gasps and choked back moans, you weakly give him a thrusts back, faintly meeting his motion to rut against your clit and create a mind-numbing friction.

One of his palms lands against your ass like a crack of a whip, sending your chest to collide forward and press against the cool marble of the kitchen counter. “What did you call me?”

Gathering your underwear, Jeno pulls the material aside, sucking spit away that's gathered around his thirsty tongue upon seeing your cunt so ready to be wrecked and fucked. “Look at that tight hole, like a virgin. No way daddy’s fucking you right.”

You’re grateful that your brain hasn’t fully failed you yet, even with your step-son’s thick palms spreading your ass open continuing to spew nonsense out about the appearance of your perfect pussy. God knows you’d beg and confess how badly you need to cum— cum around your husband's son’s monster sized cock. “How am I going to fit in there mommy? I’m way too big for you.”

Jeno sounds sadistic, hawking out spit that lands and drips down to your entrance. “Should I be nice and prep you?” He laughs, a fake laugh, a mocking teasing laugh. “That would be too nice of me, wouldn’t it?”

He leans over your back, reaching for the basket of fruits and vegetables just past your head. “Should I be nice?”

Long fingers wrap around one of the cucumbers half hanging out of the basket, dragging the vegetable down to smack against your cheek. The solid food slaps your skin heavy and rough, making your step-son smile wide, highly pleased by the shame wrinkling your forehead together. “Mommy’s always so nice to me, always takes care of me so well.” Jeno taunts, leaning back and tapping the vegetable down your spine to run between your buttcheeks.

“I shouldn’t be too mean..” the thick tip of the cucumber meets your entrance, cold against your heated core making your hips shiver forward to get away.

“Baby..”

“Yeah, that’s right.” He presses in, cursing between gritted teeth as he watches you stretch open around the vegetable. It’s big, even then no competition for how wide the tip of his dick is alone. “Opening up so so pretty for me, mommy.”

He fucks the cucumber inside of you just half-way, sending your toes to arch up from the floor and scramble to grab at the kitchen counter; threatening to cut open your bottom lip with how hard you bite down to keep in a moan. The whole situation makes you feel dirty, disgusting, ashamed that you couldn’t stop him. That deep down inside you know you’d never stop him, you want it too much. Form the day you noticed your step-son watching you stretch from his bedroom window, to the time you caught a glimpse of him by the bathroom door as you scrubbed down and rinsed your naked body clean. You’ve always wanted him to make a move.

Maybe you’d been dreaming of this moment all along, adding your ingredients to the pot everyday until everything boiled over and spilled past the rim.

“So fucking nasty mommy.” Jeno keeps mumbling, thrusting the vegetable in and out of you, enthralled by the way it comes out stickier, coated with a thick layer of sheen. The wet dripping out past your cunt with each fill, spilling down your inner thighs to the kitchen floor like some whore that needs to be fucked and bred everyday. “Taking it so good, you’ll take me even better.”

His throbbing length slaps against your hip with each push and pull against your insides, hissing and groaning behind you the closer he reaches to stumbling over the edge. “You want that mommy? Want me to fuck you so good, make you forget about that huge rock weighing down your finger.”

Jeno doesn’t let you answer, not noticing the way you curl your hand into a fist to tuck away your wedding ring before discarding the cucumber as he rips you off the counter to shove you down to your knees.

“Fuck.” Gripping around his length he strokes quickly, reaching down to pull on one of your nipples and watch the fat perky mound jiggle under his ministrations.

“Gonna cum all over your perfect tits, push them together for me mommy.” Jeno slaps your breast impatiently, balls tight and tensed up between his thighs doing his best to stave off his orgasm from barreling out.

Eyes filled with big watery tears gaze up in a daze, cupping your substantial fat tits together making the perfect little pocket pussy for his cock to slide between. “Oh fuckkk.”

Jeno’s neck drops forward, slamming up between your squished breasts. Teeth grinding together to stop himself from screaming at the visual of your heavy perfect tits bouncing around his size, the tip of his length nearly hitting under your chin with each thrusts up against your chest. “So good mommy, so fucking good!”

Jeno reaches for your jaw, squeezing in roughly and smacking your cheek to pop open your lips. “Just like that, so fucking hot.” It’s everything he’s dreamt about. Nights stuck inside of his dorm room looking up milf porn, step-son breeding step-mom, juicy breasts bouncing on his computer screen that could never compare to how good this feels.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum.” He cries out, thrusting against your chest harder, forcing the weight of your breasts up and back down into your palms, bouncing deliciously. Slapping your cheek again, digits dig into your cheeks and drop a wad of spit in. Pleased from his high up angle as you stay open and let him watch it glide down to the back of your throat. “Fuck fuck fuck!”

Jeno tugs away, cock slapping down on your parted lips before reaching for the tip to squeeze around and release into your mouth. “Swallow all of it.” He moans out, circling your throat with his other hand to feel himself slide down. “That’s it, so good for me mommy.”

The smug smile he gives you before hoisting you up to sit on the table you share meals with your husband at lets you know this is far from over. “Don’t be rude mommy.” Jeno pouts, pushing space for himself between your thighs. Soft palms stroke up and down almost like a warning. “Say thank you.”

He smirks, sinking down to bury between your thighs and proceed to use his tongue in ways your husband never has.

“Dinner looks great!” Your poor unsuspecting husband sits down right where his son had his meal with you mere hours ago(one that had your back split up in an arch and your eyes meeting the back of your skull), hands clasped together before the plate you serve him.

“Now now,” Jeno chimes in, moving to stand from the dinner table to grab a bowl from the fridge. “I see no greens on that plate, didn’t your doctor warn you about that high cholesterol?”

Your husband eyes his son suspiciously, too focused on the little brat to see the sheer panic running over your face behind his side. “I found this new cucumber salad recipe, I think you’ll really like it dad.”

He smiles, an endearing sweet genuine smile, a smile that could easily make you forget what type of evil menace you’re really dealing with here. “Here, try it out.”

To your absolute horror, Jeno sets down a bowl of seasoned, finely chopped, and wet cucumber before his father, nodding eagerly.

“You put poison in this or something?” He grumbles, stabbing at the slices before shoving a batch into his mouth and chomping with a pleased hum. “Not bad, not bad at all. What’s that flavor?”

His son grins wide, eyes large and full of mirth.

“I knew you’d like it, got a kick to it right?” He blinks up to meet your mortified gaze, biting down on your fingernails as your mind shouts frantically- he wouldn’t!.. he would!.. no, no, HE WOULDN’T.

As if he can read your thoughts, Jeno winks at you, clapping his father on the shoulder. “I guess we have the same taste, daddy.”

“Don’t dare bother to throw any parties while I’m gone.” Jeno’s father glares at him, pointer finger digging between his chest. “No funny business you hear me? You need to show your step-mom some respect.”

Jeno has a hard time hiding a smug smirk, having to bite down on the insides of his cheeks to contain himself. “Oh dad, trust me, I will show her nothing but the utmost respect. You have nothing to worry about.”

His father squints, skepticism crossing his wrinkled features as he takes in his son’s face once more before heading out to bid you a long goodbye filled with lingering wet kisses.

“Right. You know what? These vacation breaks from school really seem unnecessary. Why can’t you be normal and go on trips to different party cities like the rest of the guys your age?” He scoffs, waving him off flippantly, not even a hug? Jeno clutches his chest dramatically, following after to watch the two of you say your goodbyes from the top of the staircase.

“If he bothers you..” Thick calloused fingers hold your chin delicately, nothing like the nimble boney ones that dug into your face just a few days ago and forced your mouth open to spit past your tongue. Jeno doesn’t really care to tune in, more amused than anything by the little act you keep up. Such a cute young sweet house-wife, more dolled up than your usual for a morning session of pilates. The extra effort put into your appearance no doubt for his father’s benefit, a pretty vision for him to leave behind. It’s not as if the 2 minutes it took for him to fuck you this morning wasn’t enough for the old man.

Jeno hums to himself, catching your line of sight before you follow after his dad to say bye from the driveway as he enters his ride to the airport. Maybe that’s fear in your eye, but excitement builds up his chest nonetheless; you’ll have no arms to run to now. Nowhere to hide that he won’t be able to find you, no asshole of a father to whisk you away from him. At least not for the next foreseeable 24 hours.

That’s why he goes back to bed, his father rudely awoke him this morning with a loud cursed groan after climaxing out of breath and falling onto your bed with a loud thud. He’s surprised the old man hasn’t keeled over and died yet trying to get his rocks off with you. Jeno sighs thinking about the past few days as he lays back down and buries his face into his pillow, you really have been doing a great job of avoiding him.

That doesn’t mean he misses the silent glances and hesitant looks, or the stiffness in your spine whenever he so much as passes by. No, he notices everything you do, even how you’ve been locking your bedroom door when taking showers now. It’s cute really, a game more than anything now as he rests his eyes and hums, imagining you’ve come back inside and surveillanced the downstairs area for your big scary step-son, probably sighing in relief that he’s left you alone. For now.

He’ll let you get your lovely perfect morning routine on, build up a nice sweat that gets your heart racing, high off endorphins from stretching and straining your muscles with various exercises. He’d prefer it that way really, and judging from the time— soon, soon you’ll be on your way to the kitchen to refresh with a nice chill glass of electrolytes. What a pleasant easy life his father has granted you, all you have to grant him in return is your body. It’s no wonder you work daily to keep up appearances for the old man.

Jeno’s mother had never cared much to fulfill his father’s porngraphic ideals of how women should look and act, but you, ah he really struck gold with you. He can’t deny that if he had found you first, he would have ate you alive.

“Oh.”

Your step-son’s not surprised to see you exit the newly renovated makeshift room filled with gym equipment(that used to be for his gaming consoles), gently patting your sweat glistened skin off as the door opens and unveils him standing there across from you expectantly.

“Figured you wouldn’t want me to share such a small space with you.” Jeno says, making no effort to disguise his gaze, dragging down from your chest to your hips and stopping between your thighs to moisten his lips. “All sweaty, out of breath, making sounds that could read as inappropriate..”

Tight-lipped, you nod and ignore him before stepping out and motioning inside the gym room. “All yours.”

“Everything?”

Jeno’s arm launches forward before you can take another step, pausing you dead in your tracks against the hallway wall, a less than innocent grin stares back at you. He cocks an eyebrow, following the beads of sweat raining down your forehead at faster speed the closer he inches forward until you’re pressed up against the wall with little room to free yourself.

“You thought I’d make this easy, didn’t you?” He huffs through his nose, bending at his neck to perch his nostrils right above your throat and swallow down the fresh scent of your hard work. “Burned up a real good sweat for daddy?”

“Jeno, can we talk first at least?” You squirm, leaning back as much as you can with feet flat to the ground in an attempt to slither down the wall inconspicuously. “I don’t want your dad to suspect anything, what happened the other day..”

“When you came around my tongue and begged me to fuck you?” He interrupts, pressing his forehead forward to hold yours in place, voice gruff and deep. “Or when daddy enjoyed his meal? Were you scared mommy? Don’t worry, I won’t let him do anything to you.”

“That’s not it, I’m married to your father!” You smack his chest to push yourself free, digging your palms into his muscular pecs without much budge. The contact only riles him up more, releasing a growl and bumping his nose closer to yours. “Please! Jeno, I’m all sweaty and disgusting. Let me take a shower first at least.”

“Why would I let you do that? And ruin all of this for me?” This being the sweat Jeno proceeds to lick from the divet between your collarbone, slurping his way down to your ample breasts squeezed snuggly inside of a tight sports bra. “Fuck, you taste so fucking good.”

Hearing his praise only makes you squeamish, struggling more to shove him away and break free from his biceps bracketed around you. “Please, I smell! Don’t be gross!”

It’s laughable to even ask this of your step-son, especially after having to sit and watch your husband munch away on a phallic shaped vegetable that his son had just used to get you off with.

“I’m gonna need you to shut up mommy,” Jeno scoops the soaked fabric of your bra under your breasts, pushed up higher forming two round mounds perfect for sucking on. “Nothing gross about you, or this.” Teeth bury into the perky fat of your chests, sucking roughly, rough enough to hurt but not leave marks behind.

Jeno can’t stop his hips from rutting forward, grinding his aching thickening cock against your stomach. His basketball shorts don’t do much to conceal how hard he is already, having chubbed up in his room from the thought alone of what he planned to do to you today. He has enough respect for you to leave no signs of bruising behind on your chest, but that doesn’t mean he cares when you cry out to stop again and pull away with your weak nails scratching at the wall.

“You really want me to stop?” He asks, cock dragging up and down from between your pelvis to just above your navel. “Tell me the truth mommy, I know he can’t fuck you the way I can. Know you’re desperate for it, want your sweet little step-son to hang you off his fat 9 inch cock? Come on mommy.” Jeno’s drooling between each word, slathering your chest in spit between his muffled speech and consistently sucking. “Admit it, wanna get fucked so bad.”

“N-no.. please, baby, don’t—“

Jeno’s chest rumbles, groaning loudly as he reaches to pull your bra off, rolling the wet material up for your breasts to bounce out lewdly. The smack of your chest meeting the top of your ribcage and breasts clapping together makes you squeal, quickly shutting your eyes in shame.

“Fuck, so sexy mommy. Don’t hide from me, don’t hide any of this from me.” He squeezes your chest roughly, jutting your nipples out to form perfect taut pacifiers to suck on. Jeno’s tongue works feverishly, sucking and licking at your pert buds until they fully harden to a painful point under the vacuuming pull from his mouth.

Jeno leaves your chest swollen, blood rushed to the skin he’s sucked on viciously. He hums, examining how heavy they weigh down in his palms, gripping and kneading, shoving his face between your cleavage just to hear you squeal and struggle to inch away from him. So damn cute.

“That old assholes really manipulated you well,” he grumbles, licking up the trickles of sweat dripping down from your nape to your shoulders and chest. “Has you thinking this is gross? That you are gross? What the fuck is wrong with him, huh? I should kick his fucking ass.”

“Don’t talk about your dad like that..” you whimper, biting back a moan when he bites and tugs at one of your hard nipples, jiggling your other breast against his face. Even with your mind battling between lust and guilt, you can’t help but to feel bad.

“He doesn’t deserve you.” Jeno whispers, leaning in to plant a firm kiss on your lips to shut you up. “He doesn’t even appreciate you.”

His hand cups between your legs, making your thighs lock around his wrist as he cups your sweat soaked mound. Shorts still wet after your vigorous workout. “Baby, not there, please please.”

“Mommy, I’m not going to tell you to be fucking quiet again.” He grins, licking your lips before sliding down your body to his knees. Jeno peers up, eyes sparkling in a dreamy almost innocent way, like a kid in a candy store. “I’m nothing like him.”

To prove his point, his face drops forward between your legs. The fight you put up to keep him out is useless, overpowered by his much larger stronger size as his arms come to wrap around your thighs and pull you apart allowing for his nose to drag up and down your sweaty slick soaked workout shorts.

“Jeno!” Your neck drops back weakly, eyes rolling shut at the sensation of your step-son pulling the material of your shorts with the suction of his mouth alone. Tonguing and sucking on the fabric to absorb the remnants of sweat that poured down and collected between your thighs. Pulling on his hair serves you no advantage, completely under his control as he grinds your cunt against his face roughly.

The only resolution you find comes from covering your face to hide your moans of pleasure, whimpering into your hands the more he licks between your folds shaped by your thin shorts clinging to your center.

Jeno sounds like a rabid animal down there, devouring his way through the best meal he’s ever had. The first sound of a rip sends your spine to straighten out, reaching back down to pull on his hair. “What are you doing!”

He groans, more turned on by your hands digging into his scalp and pulling roughly. Scooping around your thighs for more leverage, Jeno pulls at your shorts and bites down the seam until they give, ripping enough of a hole for his digits to push through and expand. A growl vibrates against your center as he dives in, teething your thin underwear away to roll his tongue against your clit.

“Oh my Go—“ out of breath you arch against his mouth, head shaking side to side and banging into the wall behind you. “Jeno!”

His tongue hardens and swirls against your clit, stimulating each nerve until your feet kick against his back and your hips jerk forward enough to ride his face. He can hardly breathe between your thighs, unbothered by the lack of air reaching his brain as he strokes your clit in expert motion until your cunt spasms against his mouth. Shouting out with your palm hitting flat against the wall as you release down his chin, entrance rocking along the lower half of his face despite the sensitivity throbbing around your middle.

Jeno laps at his mouth like a thirsty dog, slapping your exposed core before moving to stand and wrap around your waist to ensure you can’t run. Not that you will.

“You ready for it.” Resting your hand on his groin, your step-son rushes you up the stairs, scooping under your thighs to reach your bedroom faster.

“In here?!?” You grimace, head shaking to begin pleading. “Not where we slee—“

“Hush.” Jeno doesn’t give you more of an opportunity to argue, immediately hooking into your shorts and underwear to pull them off, only throwing them aside after stuffing the wet fabric under his nose to get a deep inhale. “God damn.”

As much as he wants to let this moment wash over him, the reality of having his wildest fantasy come true, laid out flat in his prick of a father’s bed, legs spread open showing off the prettiest pussy he’s ever seen; Jeno can’t deny how badly he needs to fuck you before he cums in his pants. He’s never been this turned on before, slapping your thigh as he reaches to turn you over onto your stomach, cunt all shiny and raw from the back, squished between your legs making his head spin even more somehow. There’s no way in fucking hell his dad deserves you, not one bit.

Reaching to shove down his shorts, Jeno pats his pocket for his phone, swiping it out discreetly to hit record and perch the device against one of your pillows; making sure to keep it out of your sight before he adjusts between the backs of your thighs. “I’ll fuck your ass too.” He says with a stroke of his thumb between your buttcheeks. “Gonna need more cucumbers for that though.” He snickers, finding a photo from your honeymoon framed on your bedside table, the side you sleep on of course.

Flipping off his father’s cheesy grin, he reaches over to slam the photo down. This is his moment after all, no one else's.

He’d never let you know how raging hard his dick feels right now, lining up the tip to your waiting hole. Having to roll his tongue back to stop himself from blurting out the amount of times he’s busted a nut into his hand, on his stomach, fuck even the pool jacuzzi jets more than a few times by now. All thanks to his precious step-mom, so carelessly displaying every inch of skin, fueling his perverse brain more than you even realize

“Knew you’d take it so good for me,” it’s better than getting a taste of you, which he didn’t think was possible. The stretch of your cunt expanding around his wide girth, skin pulled over the head of his cock struggling to keep him out and somehow pull him in at the same time.

“Gonna fuck you like you’ve never been fucked before.” Jeno says in a more cocky tone, feeling more confident than ever now with half of his length inching inside of you. Pussy walls trembling around his size, sucking around the fat meat pulsing its way inside. No college slut, no amount of lotion to aid his palm, no graphic image available on a free adult website would ever come close to this.

Fully sheathed inside, he sounds out of breath, listening to your whimpers and moans you try to hide with your bedding tugged between your teeth. He glances at his phone quickly, positioning himself to pull out slowly and fall into a rapid pace, dropping his lower half to yours faster and faster until you’re screaming out. The way you scramble to grab onto something—arms flailing out to grab your bed for purchase only encourages him to fuck you faster. Slapping your ass with each powerful thrust.

“Best dick you’ve ever taken, don’t fucking lie to me.” Jeno demands, delivering another harsh slap to your ass before ramming forward balls deep. The collision of his palm cracks around your bedroom, knocking a loud cry from your chest. You nod rabidly in response, gasping deliriously with each pointed thrust. “Say it! Who fucks you this good!”

“You! You baby! Only you!” His phone’s camera stays angled filming your sides, albeit shaky and hard to capture the complete fucked out devestation that’s taken over your pretty face, it’s enough. Enough for him to get off to later, enough to get his way every single time if he needs to.

“That’s right,” Jeno angles his hips to fuck you full with each heavy land of his lower half, pushing your ass up with every clapping shout of skin on skin sounding out between your bodies. “Only me, only your baby.”

The camera tips over, screen gone black directed at the ceiling only recording the sounds of your moans and broken words between each other, Jeno’s gruff heavy panting breaths. The crash of your bodies rocking your headboard against your bedroom wall in a way he’s never once heard his father achieve.

“I’ll never stop fucking you now.” His bicep locks under your chin, forcing your waist to arch forward almost painfully; just enough to strain your lower back. “You’re mine.”

He follows with a growl, lips pressed up to your cheek, laving at whatever skin he’s able to reach. With another roll of his hips, he comes to a still, the thick muscle of his arm around your neck popping out in flex as his body tightens up and locks around your throat. Biting back a moan, Jeno’s release pours inside of you, hot and thick ropes of cum aimed deep inside of you before pulling out the rest of the way to spill between your ass and thighs. “Fuck!”

He sighs, kissing the top of your head to make sure your eyes have shut before reaching for his phone to record the beautiful mess left on your body. He wants to keep going on about how his dad will never fuck you to the point of nearly passing out, dragging his fingers through the mix of your releases before bringing them to his mouth to suck on.

One taste and Jeno knows he won’t stop fucking you until that ring slips off your finger for good.

“Hope he wasn’t too much to put up with while I was gone.” Your husband wraps around you from behind, chin resting on your shoulder. “Next break I’ll have him go stay with his mother.”

“It’s okay my love, he really doesn’t bother me..”

“Hmm, well he sure bothers me.” He sighs, burying his nose into your hair. “Trying a new shampoo?”

“No…” you hold back from making a face, not having had time to thoroughly clean yourself all squeaky clean thanks to your step-son fucking you through the night.

“Oh..” his nose scrunches, pulling away at the sensation of his phone vibrating against your hip. “God, what the hell can this kid want now?”

It has to be Jeno. As unsuspecting as you can, you shift to peer over your shoulder where your husband stands with his eyebrows twisted together. “Why did he send me a video.”

He presses play, immediately setting off your fight or flight response and mentally mumbling off a thank you for the kitchen counter keeping you steady on your feet. The sound of your moans blast from your husband’s phone accompanied by heavy deep grunts, skin clapping against skin and his phone screen covered by the image of your lower half rippling under the weight of your step-sons brutal unrelenting thrusts.

“What in the—“

“Oh my god!” You shriek, slapping a hand over your mouth to quiet your shock. Another text pops up at the top of the screen not even a minute later.

Jeno- ‘Sorry about that dad, meant to text that to my group chat. My mistake.’

“This fucking kid.” Your husband mutters, continuing to watch the video with squinted eyes. “The time stamp on this is from the other night?”

To your horror, he looks at you with an even more confused expression, swiping the video away before it comes to an end. “Did that little shit have someone over? After I made myself clear—“

“He went out!” You blurt out, nodding and catching yourself with a grip on the counter behind your back. “I didn’t think to mention it, but he went out that night. Don’t know when he came back.”

Your husband nods, glaring back at his phone. “I guess he got that insatiable sex drive from me.” He grins at that, humored by his own intrigue watching the girl his son was hooking up with. “Got my type too.” Leaving out the part about a tight little ass, he leans over to grab yours with a squeeze and plants a kiss on your cheek.

You offer a laugh, forcing it to sound less uncomfortable than you feel. “You should delete that text babe, I don’t like that you could be looking at other girls when I’m right here.”

“Is my sweet angel jealous?” He chuckles, slapping your butt and opening his phone to show you as he deletes the message. “My son could never land himself a woman that comes close to you, believe me. You have nothing to be worried about.” With a kiss to your lips he makes to exit and head to your bedroom to shower, leaving you alone to collapse against the counter and quell down the urge of panic trapped in your chest.

The buzz from your phone halts your breakdown, grasping over the kitchen island for it to see new messages from your step-son.

Jeno- ‘You think daddy may prefer these?’

Attached are different angles, showing off more of the bed you sleep in with your husband every night, catching peeks of your pleasured face. Jeno’s behind you in the thumbnails sharing an equal image of rolled up eyes and lips parted open. You don’t need to hit play to know how obscene each video must be.

Jeno- ‘You’ll be sure to keep your pretty mouth shut if you know what’s good for you, right? I know you’re a smart girl.’

An image of your legs parted open from behind sends next, backside covered in a mess of your step-son’s cum and wet arousal smeared around your thighs.

Jeno- ‘Be good for me mommy.’

#nct dream smut #nct smut #jeno smut #neopuppy fics #lee jeno fanfic #nct dream fanfic #nct fanfic

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tragedy-of-commons · 3 months

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fuck it we ball. hsr prom date hcs because i am on something different tonight. based on my very limited experience.

dan heng

he's painfully awkward. like you expected it when you asked him to be your date but it's even worse than you predicted...

he DID pick you up and he WAS almost an hour early, causing you to rush down the stairs and almost trip (not very magical-teen-coming-of-age-moment-like of you). that kind of lightened the mood though.

also painfully sweet! upon your arrival he gives you a boutonniere/corsage that matches your outfit which he had managed to keep hidden. his sweaty palms were not just because he was nervous, then...

march helped him pick it out, he admits with red-tipped ears. that makes sense, because she was suspiciously interested in what you were wearing to the function.

but he did also forget to pick out one for him. oops.

during the slow dance bit, his hands are sweaty. you don't care because your eyes lock and there's the fuzziness curling in your gut that plagues you whenever you're with dan heng.

overall, a good experience! polite and always willing to humor your whims, even if he's a little stiff.

and if you peck him on the cheek after he walks you back to your doorstep, well, that's alright with him. more than alright.

black swan

life of the party. not in a screaming-getting-way-too-into-the-music kinda way, but in the way that everyone wants a sliver of her attention. she's always relaxed, interesting to talk to, and dreamy to boot! it wouldn't be any different at prom.

but black swan, above all else, wants to just... spend time with you. anyone that wants to chat can wait until later, when she's not watching you stuff snacks into your pockets with a fond look in her faraway eyes.

to commemorate the occasion, you're cajoled into the photobooth where you both hold up props and make funny faces for the camera. you know black swan doesn't cherish much above memories, even if they're immortalized in a gag reel where you're clad in silly-straw glasses and her in a purple mustache.

but in the last photo, right before the camera flashes, she sneaks a kiss on your cheek. your eyes are blown wide in surprise in the picture and that's her favorite part!

surprisingly adept at dancing. depending on your taste, she will either dip you dramatically and take the lead, or fall into your steps and try to make you feel more comfortable if you're nervous.

cherishes any memento from the event. she does the teasing, though, so don't get any ideas about poking fun at her for being sappy.

a great date, i dare say.

aventurine

it's a given that both of you look the best. dressed to the nines.

the whole thing is a bit sensationalized, though. mostly because he's used to everything being treated like a spectacle, aventurine tries his best (while looking like he isn't trying at all) to give you a good time.

his saving grace is that... he's here with you. everything is more enjoyable this way, even the distastefully loud music matches the pulse in his ears when he looks at y💥💥

his favorite part of the event, surprisingly, is when you ask him to ditch with you early. makes a little joke like "wow, are you having that bad of a time with me?" but there's a bit of weight behind it that you can sense. anyway, you answer by rolling your eyes and pulling him outside.

away from the noise, pretenses drop and You Hold His Hand, telling him that any time with him is a good time. but this is infinitely better, even if you're both just stood in the parking lot.

you both decide to stay a little longer. at the end of the night, the principal gets into one of those dunking booths for the children to throw balls at to get them dunked in water. aventurine bets you a date that he'll hit the target.

you know he'll win (his luck kind of scares you), so of course you take him up on that wager, very excited to lose. it's very sweet.

lol he does hit the target

you both are prom celebrities for the rest of the night with another date set in stone a week from now!

kafka

imo she would make the best date out of everyone on this list.

mostly because any outing with kafka is almost cataclysmic in its impact... starting when she pops over at your place to help you get ready! surprise!

zips you up/adjusts your lapels/make sure your makeup looks good/whatever is part of this whole routine for you. she does so while humming a dulcet tune. she wants to be involved with every aspect of your pivotal prom experience tbh. keen on making memories like black swan is, but the effort is unconscious.

also. since blade has his driver's license, she basically bribed him into being your chauffeur for the night. i think that'd be a fun detail.

if you suck at dancing, never fear, because she also isn't very good (or so she says, but she's kafka, so of course she makes it work).

is not opposed to silly photobooth pics but she'd rather have someone take a candid of you both together by persuading them nicely - more her speed.

her eyes are ENCHANTING in that dim lighting... i just know... you get so distracted that you trip over her feet. silver wolf, the resident DJ that the school hired, sees and laughs.

has that tattered jacket thrown over whatever she decides to wear. she drapes it over you if you get cold due to the weather or temperature inside of the building.

#aventurine x reader #dan heng x reader #kafka x reader #black swan x reader #hsr x reader #honkai star rail x reader #hsr x you #hsr aventurine x reader #hsr dan heng x reader #hsr kafka x reader #hsr black swan x reader #hsr fluff #hsr crack #✧ my musings

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eomayas · 6 months

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silent night • wjh

pairing: non-idol!husband!jun x wife!reader, established relationship, parents

genre: smut, 18+ MINORS DNI!!!! fluff

synopsis: jun wants you, but he needs you to be quiet

warnings: p in v, oral (f receiving), fingering, mild breeding kink, slight choking, jun sorta mean!

a/n: unedited (ofc) also been so obsessed with jun lately i had this thought lsdt night and had to finish. hope u enjoy!! if the smut is bad sorry i haven’t written smut in a long time

jun leans against the wall that connects the living room and kitchen, and watches you dance with your daughter, a small smile on his face. she’s been hyper all day, not even taking a nap like she normally does, so you’ve been trying to tire her out for the last ten minutes. it doesn’t seem to be working all that well, since she’s still bouncing around the living room to the mariah carey song you have playing on the TV.

“cmon, baby, shake it off,” you say to your daughter, bouncing on the balls of your feet and shaking out your hands, urging your daughter to parrot your actions. she pants out a giggle and copies you, and you take her mild tiredness as a small victory. you’re starting to get tired yourself, but you’re not going to give up until she starts—it’s probably not wise to have this silent bet with a four year old, but something has to give.

your daughter copies whatever you do, giggling and calling you silly when bounce up and down and kick your legs out. “okay, now spin, spin, spin!” you say, twirling around on your toes. you catch jun staring at you, a sweet smile on his face and your heart swells. you didn’t notice the kitchen sink turn off and the clanging of dishes stop completely.

shooting him a smile, you keep spinning until you get dizzy, catching your balance against the sofa. “woah,” you huff, a light chuckle escaping your lips. you notice your daughter starting to wobble and swoop in to catch her before she falls. “whoops! slow down, baby girl!” you laugh, stilling her small body. she looks up at you and laughs, her cheeks red.

“that was fun, mommy!” you push her hair out of her face and start gently fanning her.

“yeah, it was, baby. but mommy is tired now,” she pokes her bottom lip out at you and you feign a dramatic sigh. “i know, i know. but we have to rest so we can do it again tomorrow!” you try, glancing up at jun.

“mommy needs her energy to keep dancing, princess,” your husband chimes in. your daughter looks back at him, looks at you, and nods.

“okay, mommy. you promise we’ll do it again?” she asks as you lift her up into your arms, tucking her onto your hip.

nodding, you promise and kiss her on the forehead before passing her to jun. your daughter lets out a small yawn and you and jun exchange a look of relief, both extremely worn out from chasing after her all day. she woke up with more energy than the two of you have probably had in your entire lives, bursting through your bedroom and jumping into bed, hardly giving either of you enough time to recuperate.

“ready for bed, sweetie?” jun asks her, carrying her up the stairs to her bedroom. you turn off the tv and the rest of the lights before following after them. he’s tucking her into bed when you get upstairs, grateful for the fact that she was already changed into her pajamas. “goodnight, princess. we love you.” jun kisses her on the forehead and you do the same thing.

she yawns again, muttering out an “i love you” back to the two of you. jun shuts off the lights and closes the door, letting out a sigh of relief once it’s latched.

“my god,” he whispers, making the two of you giggle as you step into your bedroom. he shuts the door softly and you yawn, stretching your arms above your head. jun wraps an arm around you, pulling your back into his front.

“let’s go to bed,” you say, bringing a hand up and gently rubbing his cheek when he rests his chin on your shoulder. he kisses your neck once, twice, and by the third time you understand what he’s getting at. “jun, i’m tired.” you all but whine. but his hands rubbing across your bare legs exposed by your shorts is making you shift in his grip.

“you don’t have to do anything,” he mumbles, lightly nipping at your neck. you sigh through your nose and tilt your head to the side. “let me do all the work.” he adds, skating one of his hands across the waistband of your shorts. you pull your bottom lip in, squirming when he presses his crotch against your ass.

“fine,” you breathe, looking at him over your shoulder. he straightens up and places his mouth on yours, giving you a hot kiss before guiding your towards the bed and pushing you down onto the mattress.

“try to keep quiet, yeah?” he says as he pulls down your shorts and underwear, leaving you in a big tshirt. you rest on your forearms and spread your legs for him when he sinks down onto his knees. he kisses your inner thighs teasingly and you suck your teeth in annoyance, rolling your eyes at his games.

“hurry up,” you say impatiently, making him glare at you. “please.” you add, giving him a sweet smile so he finally eats you the way you like and want.

“such a good girl,” he says mockingly before putting his head in between your legs and licking up your slit and in between your folds. you let out a small gasp and open your legs wider for him, mouth falling open. he licks and sucks on anything his mouth is able to get a hold of. juns fingers grip onto your thighs tightly, though he drags one hand down to rub at your clit while he tongues your hole.

falling onto your back, you slap a hand over your mouth so quiet your moans. your eyes screw shut and your toes curl at his ministrations. he eats you like you didn’t just cook him dinner less than an hour ago, like he hasn’t had anything to eat all day and you were his one and only option. it has you seeing spots and your brain being devoid of any coherent thoughts.

a tight knot forms in the pit of your stomach and you arch your back off the bed, your head thrown back in pleasure. you let out a loud cry from behind your hand and jun cuts his eyes at you but doesn’t stop what he’s doing. “j-jun,” you pant, dropping your hand from your mouth.

“i know, be quiet,” he mumbles from between your legs, the vibrations of his voice making you clench around nothing.

“i-im tr-trying,” you whimper. jun pulls his mouth away from your core and you whimper when his face is mere inches from yours.

“baby,” he says condescendingly, one hand bracing himself on the bed and the other resting on the side of your face. “you need to be quiet.” he smooshes your cheeks together, holding your chin in his palm. “i’ll let you cum if you can be good and quiet for me, okay?” the sarcastic smile he punctuates the end of his sentence with makes you press your knees together underneath him. “you understand me?”

“i un- ah ah,” he tsks, cutting you off and raising his eyebrows. “can’t follow directions, can we?” he asks with a sigh, letting go of you face and and dropping his hand down to cup your warm heat. you suck in an anticipatory breath, wanting him to touch you again.

jun outside of the bedroom versus jun in the bedroom were two completely different men. your loving husband who would do anything for you and your daughter is unrecognizable compared to the man hovering above you and holding your orgasm over your head.

you press your lips together, holding back any more comments so he can get back to eating you out and bringing you over the edge. jun smirks down at you and runs his middle finger through your slick core, brushing it over you clit teasingly. he watched your facial expressions intensely, revels in the way you bite your lip and furrow your eyebrows in an attempt to keep yourself quiet. jun toys with you, dipping a finger into your hole and slowly pushing in and out. it’s not enough for you in the slightest, but he wants to see how good you can be for him.

jun adds as second finger and and you lick your lips, looking down to watch his fingers move in and out of you. you let out silent breaths, face screwed up in concentration to keep yourself silent. he presses his thumb against your clit and you let out a quiet whimper from the back of your throat, your eyes immediately flying up to look at your husband. instead of reprimanding you, jun presses a kiss to your mouth and speeds up him fingering you.

his mouth on yours quiets your breathy moans that you can’t help. his thumb rubbing against your clit as his scissors his fingers inside of you is enough to bring you close to the edge again. you clench around his fingers and in and instant he pulls his mouth off of yours and places it back in between your legs.

you thrash above him on the bed, thighs trying to close in around his head. jun uses his broad shoulders to keep your legs open and wide for him, giving him enough space to keep on eating you out. your hips buck up into his face, his nose bumping against your clit and you grab a pillow and throw it over your face, letting out the screams that you’ve been holding back.

arousal coats juns face, and he tries to lick all of it up, practically eating you out through your orgasm. your legs shake and fall limp against his shoulders. jun comes out from between your legs and pull the pillow off of your face. “look at me, baby,” he says softly, pushing up your shirt and gently stroking your stomach. your eyes flutter open and he gives you a small smile. “there she is.”

“i love you,” you say, your voice weak and tired. jun smiles that boxy smile that you love, and the sweet look on his face is so distant from the man from less than 10 minutes ago.

“and i love you,” he says, placing a gentle kiss on your lips. “now turn around.” he says, gripping your hips and starting to flip you over. you whine noncommittally and bring yourself up onto your knees. jun places a pillow underneath you anyway, and pulls off his pants and shirt, leaving him bare.

you feel the bed dip behind you and jun places his hands on your ass, softly rubbing circles before gripping onto your hips. he’d slap your ass if not for the echo that would occur and probably wake up your daughter across the hall.

“you ready, baby?” he asks, his dick hard and heavy against your ass. you nod and he smiles, lining himself up and pushing the head in. he clenches his teeth as you clench around him, trying to suck him in deeper. he pushes in deeper, stilling his hips when you let out a squeak. “what is it?” he asks, leaning over your back to press a soft kiss to your neck.

“n-nothing, keep going,” you reach back and grip onto his leg, trying to push him into you. jun lets out a small chuckle and pushes in a few more inches, not quite bottoming out. he starts fucking into you slowly, trying to minimize any sounds of skin on skin, but it’s not enough for either of you. you quietly urge for him to go faster, to give you more, and he speeds up a little bit but still not where you want him at. “jun, cmon.” you whine, pushing your hips back into him.

“i don’t want her to wake up,” he grunts, grabbing onto your bun and yanking your head back. you huff and let him fuck into you slowly, rolling your eyes at his slow hips.

“jun, i wanna see you,” you say, crawling away from him and flipping onto you back, sitting up slightly to take off your shirt. he pushes his hair off of his forhead and grabs your left leg, placing it on his shoulder.

your husband pushes into you once again, bottoming out quickly and making you let out of a breath of bliss. “yeah, right there,” you say softly, sucking in a gasp and closing your eyes tightly when he speeds up his thrusts. “j-jun!” you mewl, fists balling up the sheets. jun places a heavy hand on your throat, lightly squeezing to shut you up.

“quiet,” he says through gritted teeth, hips slamming against your own. he can get both of you to your highs quickly if he disregards the noise, but he’s too worried about waking up your child.

you place a hand between the two of you and start rubbing on your clit, using some of your arousal as lubricant. “fuck,” he grunts, snapping his hips into you and nearly knocking the breath from your lungs. he pounds into you harshly, his pelvic bone bumping into your clit and making you withdraw your hand. “need you to come again, y/n.” he leans down and kisses on your neck, the hand that was previously on your neck now gripping onto your hip.

jun yanks you down to meet his thrusts, his rhythm becoming sloppier by the second as he feels close to his white hot release. “b-baby,” you cry out, putting a hand over your mouth once again. you lift your hips to meet his, whining to punctuate each of his thrusts.

“f-fuck, y/n, i-im not g-gonna l-last,” he moans out, a whimper leaving his lips and hitting you right in the core. you clench around him and he lets out a shudder of a breath, the rhythm completely lost from his strokes.

“g-give it to me,” you pant, tangling a hand in his hair.

“i’m g-gonna fill you up,” he chokes out, teeth clenched.

“gonna give me another baby?” your voice in his ear makes him spit out a choked moan of your name as he releases into you. his hips don’t still, trying to fuck as much cum into you to make your words true.

you rub at your clit again, bucking your hips up to chase the release that feels so close. despite him reaching his release, he still manages to give you a few more powerful thrusts and thus another orgasm, though this one not as powerful as the first.

jun collapses onto the bed next to you, a heavy arm draped across your midsection. your stroke his forearm and smile to yourself, feeling full of him and love, and exceptionally spent. “jun,” you start, but he sits up and waves you off.

“a towel, i know, i know,” he says, stretching his arms and going into the en-suite bathroom to grab a rag. he comes back and cleans you up, kissing you on the lips afterwards. you’re practically half asleep when he taps you to give you pajamas.

“thanks, love,” you mumble, redressing yourself. he kisses you again and crawls into bed, pulling you into his chest once you’re dressed. you fall asleep easily, partly because you’re completely worn out and partly because you’re tucked safely and softly into his arms.

#svt smut #seventeen smut #svt imagines #moon junhui #wen junhui #jun x reader #jun x you #wen junhui smut #moon junhui smut #junhui smut #junhui x reader #junhui x you #jun smut #jun fluff #junhui fluff #seventeen imagines

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fanfictionismyaddiction · 26 days

Text

Celebrating Wins

Word count: 942

Pairing: Lando norris x girlfriend!reader

Summary: As a new couple landos girlfrined celebrates his polepostion with with a playful, intimate evening, marking the start of their relationship

Request are open

______________________________________________________________

The excitement from the day still lingered as we made our way back to the hotel. The buzz of the crowd, the thrill of Lando securing pole position in Q3—it was all still fresh in our minds. But now, it was just us, away from the cameras and the noise, and I had something fun and a bit silly planned for our own private celebration. I couldn’t help but feel a mix of excitement and nerves. We had only just gotten together, and this was my first chance to really show him how proud I was of him. I wanted to make the night special, something he’d remember—not just as a celebration of his pole position, but as a moment that marked the beginning of us.

As we stepped into our room, Lando immediately burst into laughter. I had covered the bed with orange and blue confetti—McLaren’s colors, of course. There were small, goofy trophies on the nightstand, the kind you’d find at a dollar store, with labels like “World’s Best Driver” and “Pole Position King” hastily scribbled on them in my handwriting. I’d even put out a cheesy plastic crown that said “Speed King” in glittery letters.

“Are you serious?” Lando asked, grinning from ear to ear as he picked up one of the trophies. “You really went all out, didn’t you?”

“Well, someone’s got to remind you how awesome you are,” I teased, reaching up to place the crown on his head. It was a bit too small, but he wore it proudly, striking a ridiculous pose.

“I feel like royalty,” he declared, holding out his hand for me to kiss, as if he were some kind of racing monarch.

Laughing, I took his hand and gave it an exaggerated, over-the-top kiss. “Your Majesty, the Speed King, shall we dine?”

He snorted, his eyes shining with amusement. “Lead the way, my loyal subject.”

We moved to the small table I’d set up near the window, where a simple dinner was waiting for us—nothing too heavy, just some of Lando’s favorite Italian dishes, including a massive bowl of pasta. I’d even ordered pizza, because who can resist pizza in Italy? And there, chilling in the ice bucket, was a bottle of his favorite champagne.

As we sat down, I grabbed a napkin and tucked it into his shirt collar like a bib. “Can’t have you getting pasta sauce on your royal robes,” I said, doing my best to keep a straight face.

Lando burst out laughing again. “You’re ridiculous! But I love it.”

We dug into the food, the atmosphere light and playful. Lando twirled his pasta dramatically, pretending to be a food critic as he took a bite. “Ah, yes, the perfect carbo-loading meal for a champion,” he said in a mock-serious tone.

“Only the best for you, your highness,” I replied, mimicking his tone.

As we finished eating, I brought out a small cake I’d hidden earlier. It was nothing fancy, just a simple cake with “Pole Position!” written in blue and orange icing, with a little toy car on top for good measure. I stuck a single sparkler in the middle and lit it, the tiny fireworks crackling and popping.

Lando’s face lit up with childlike glee as he watched the sparkler. “This is amazing. I didn’t think I could be this excited about cake.”

“Well, it’s not just any cake,” I said, grinning. “It’s the first of many celebrations this weekend, I hope.”

“Does this mean if I win tomorrow, I get another cake?” he asked, waggling his eyebrows.

“Oh, you bet,” I replied, slicing into the cake and handing him a piece. “And maybe I’ll even throw in a victory dance.”

He nearly choked on his cake from laughing so hard. “Please tell me you’re not serious about the dance.”

“I’m dead serious,” I said, trying to keep a straight face. “It’ll be legendary. You’ll win the race and I’ll be the talk of the paddock for my sweet moves.”

He shook his head, still laughing. “Now I’m even more motivated to win, just to see this ‘legendary’ dance.”

After we finished the cake, we collapsed onto the bed, both of us a little too full and a lot too happy. Lando was still wearing the plastic crown, and I couldn’t help but giggle every time I looked at him.

“You know,” he said, turning to me with a grin, “this has been the best celebration ever. No fancy dinners, no big parties—just us, being goofy.”

I leaned in, resting my head on his shoulder. “That’s because it’s real. And you deserve to enjoy every second of it, without any pressure.”

He wrapped an arm around me, pulling me close. “Thanks. I needed this. It’s easy to get caught up in everything, but tonight, I feel like I can just be me. With you.”

I reached up and took the crown off his head, placing it on mine. “Well, tomorrow, the Speed King is going to show everyone what he’s made of. And McLaren is going to be that much closer to winning it all.”

Lando grinned and leaned in to kiss me, his lips warm and soft against mine. “I couldn’t do it without you, you know. You make this all so much better.”

As the night wore on and we finally started to drift off to sleep, Lando whispered, “No matter what happens tomorrow, this is my favorite victory.”

I smiled, cuddling closer to him. “Mine too. But just so you know, I’m ready for another cake tomorrow.”

He chuckled softly. “You better start practicing that victory dance then.”

#fanfiction #reader insert #f1 #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #f1 x reader #fanfic #fluff #lando norris x y/n #lando norris x reader #lando norris #lando norris x you #lando x reader #italien gp

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catiuskaa · 1 year

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audio creak file.mp3 [1:07]

PAIRING! pervy?Chan x roomate!reader

SUMMARY: Chan struggles to make music, and you, his friend and roommate, try to help him when you can. Say, Chan also struggles to keep his cool whenever you’re near… what will you do to help him feel better?

WC: 3.2k

CW: convenient minsung because I say so, angsty(?) (reader is just kinda dense and Minho screams the truth to her), smut: mentions of soft dom!chan, mentions of panty stealing, Chan’s a pervy simp (he’s just soooo down bad), and I just really got carried away writing on my notes thinking about when Channie smiles hearing the creaks in heyday...

A/N: basically, if being inocent was a crime, i’d be imprisioned for tax evasion, lmao. kinda perv!chan thoughts to soothe the iching that the mosquito bites give. have fun!

[☆☆★☆☆]

He let out a frustrated groan, fingers digging into his curly locks in a sign of desperation. He had listened to every single audio sample Changbin had found. Twice. But no, nothing screamed “This is it” to his perfectionist self. And it was getting him fucking desperate.

He wasn’t wearing headphones because of the company he had been with not too long ago since Changbin and Han tried to help him —keyword: try—, and also knowing that you wouldn’t be home for a while meant that there was no one he could disturb, the sounds coming from his laptop not nearly loud enough to reach to the neighbours. He scrolled down the same folders again, wondering when you would be home in the back of his mind.

You and Chan had been roommates for a bunch of years now. You two had met at Han’s birthday party thanks to Minho, as he introduced you, one of the first people he had ever danced with and even won competitions with to the leader of the Korean boyband.

You clicked almost instantly, sharing anecdotes from each side of the industry. He, a famous idol, and you, a backup dancer for many groups in different companies.

It was unknown to both of you that Han and his cat-like soulmate had tried to matchmake you that day, as you just stayed like close friends. Minho laughed at Jisung as they both returned from your shared apartment the day you moved in, like two years after. Now that you’d split the rent, considering neither of you spent that much time home to pay a large amount, you paired up.

“At least they like each other, silly,” he mentioned, his tone of voice sounding soft, a smug smile on his face. He was so winning the bet.

“Nooo!” Han whined, much like a toddler would when toys were taken away. “Those two are meant to be, Hyung. They are literally each other’s type!”

“Well, I don’t think they’ve noticed,” he chuckled, thinking about what he would buy with the ten bucks Han would owe him. And Minho would’ve been right.

But then, the sex dreams started.

“Chan, I’m back!”

He blushed, quickly shoving those thoughts into a bottomless pit in his mind.

“How you doin’?” You grinned, your head popping inside his room, leaving your bag on your own, next to his, before coming back and leaning on the door frame.

Your wet hair made the top of your summer dress fabric somewhat sheer, his eyes trailing your figure before clearing his throat.

“I’m stuck,” he admitted, dimples on display as he smiled sheepishly, scratching the back of his neck. “I’ve been looking for a sample I thought existed, but maybe I just made it up in my head.”

“That does sound like shit,” you mentioned, leaning down just enough to rest your forearms on the back of his chair. He felt tiny droplets falling from your hair onto his shoulders and back, making goosebumps trail all over his body.

“But how… how was the… the swimming pool?” He quivered, trying to hide the flustered quiver in his voice. And failing, hoping you wouldn’t notice.

“It was good! It felt sooo nice.” You stretched, whining as you extended your arms, making a mess in Chan’s head, who struggled to hide it. “I’ll go get changed, and then I can help you. Sounds ok?”

“Yeah.” He leaned into your touch when you ruffled his hair, leaving his room.

He sighed as he rested on the back of the chair, arms thrown over his eyes, and swallowed dry. He felt like such a perv, his insides churning and turning whenever you were near, making him feel like a horny teenager.

It all started one night when he woke up in a sweat, hard-on nearly hurting underneath his boxers. Pictures of you still reeling in his mind, legs wide open for him, eyes pleading, begging for release.

Then, two nights after, dreaming about your body pressed on top of him as you straddled him, clenching on him, fighting for dominance in a sloppy kiss.

Later that week, you in that cute summer dress you bought with him, letting him fuck you and manhandle you in his car, the apartment too far, and your bodies too horny that the drive home felt impossible.

Seeing you every day with those thoughts in mind was difficult, sometimes having to escape your sight so you wouldn’t see him getting hard just by you doing the slightest things that weirdly turned him on.

“The one you dream about is back,” you teased, now wearing an oversized shirt and a towel over your shoulders. He gulped as he looked at you, not only for what you had said unknowingly but also because of your shirt, long enough to cover your thighs, giving the illusion that you were almost naked. In his room. Sitting crisscrossed. On his bed.

He felt blood on his cheeks and some running down, headed south. He giggled halfheartedly, the sentence ‘don’t get hard’ echoing in his head.

After playing the samples again, tricking himself into thinking he might have skipped one just so he would keep searching, he started getting frustrated again. But nuh-uh. Nothing.

“Ok, this is trash,” you blurted out.

With a smile on your face, before he could even ask you what was wrong, you grabbed his chair from behind, pushing him far from the computer, saving the files and then closed it with a slap.

“Break time, Mr Producer. We both need a coffee.” He snickered, shaking his head sideways as you both went to the kitchen.

“Can’t say no to that, can I?”

You laughed. “No. Too late, anyways.”

He started getting the milk from the fridge, pouring it on the mugs you handed him, and settling them in the microwave, a small smile on his features accenting his dimples.

“Audio sample related, can’t you just make your own?” You asked Chan, not entirely curious, question directed to find a solution for his issue rather than learning that piece of info.

“I mean, yeah, sure, but it’s simpler this way,” he shrugged, eyes confused about where to look, not daring to stare at you for too long. “If not, I just have to keep recording random stuff, hoping to find something that sounds like what I want.”

“Isn’t that easier? Not like it’s something you can brag about, but there’s a ton of creaking shit in this place,” you pointed out thoughtfully. “Like… that!”

In the blink of an eye, you crossed your way until you were directly in front of Chan, and you turned around, leaning on the counter before you as you opened and closed the cabinet's door on the wall.

“See? It creaks,” you said from above your shoulder.

But just when you stood back on your feet, you realised how close you were to each other. And it hadn’t helped that when you leaned towards the cabinet, your shirt had followed along with your body, letting Chan see your lack of pyjama pants, instead being welcomed by some cute cotton panties. Ones he knew well because, uhm… he uh… may have used them for a wrong purpose.

Yeah, fuck, he had come on those.

You hadn’t realised how little space had been between him and the counter and attributed that to your head, not knowing that Chan had unconsciously moved towards you, like metal to a magnet. You wiggled on your place, your personal space suddenly far away from you, caged in Chan’s presence. He stopped your tiny motion by gripping your waist, letting out a gasp, blushing. He turned you around so you wouldn’t feel his hardening cock on your upper thighs.

When you both locked eyes on the contrary, the tense atmosphere shot up, turning even thicker when he rested his arms on the counter, at your sides, thumbs casually stroking short lines on your waist.

No words were said as you got lost in his brown eyes, deep chocolate-coloured orbs, not needing any kind of golden or honey stripes on them as they drew you in, gorgeous eyes so raven that it was hard to distinguish where the iris was. Then, your eyes trailed off at his mouth, your breath hitched, rose-coloured plush lips so enticing. He licked them, and you swore you heard him swallow dry.

You pressed your body on him, getting closer and closer, and suddenly, he let out a small whimper. The sound made you shiver, heat pooling in your lower belly. He blushed furiously, not daring to move from his place. You could feel it, feel him.

The sound of your phone chiming in your room made you both aware of the situation —and position— you were in. You got shy, quickly letting him have his personal space back, both of you missing the other’s warmth on your skin as you blurted out something that sounded like “gotta go walk my fish” as you run to your room, slamming the door close, frowning as soon as you were alone.

“Fuck.” Both of you said at the same time, having the same thoughts.

“I fucked up.” Chan stared at the hot mugs on the counter, both waiting for someone who had run away.

[☆☆★☆☆]

“He’s just scared, girl,” Han said through the phone after letting you ramble and blurt about what had happened barely twenty minutes ago. “I promise, if you make him feel safe, like he won’t lose you, he’ll melt on your hands.”

"...I don't think so," you mumbled, picking on your nails.

"You called me because he got hard," he sighed, not bringing his statement to a conclusion just because it was so painfully obvious. "I know you're the only one who thinks otherwise."

You were about to reply with a snarky comment about how he should just 'stick simping about Minho' when you started to hear said man speaking to Jisung, and then with all the calm in the world, ignored him when he went straight to the phone.

"...Minho?"

"Leave my boyfriend alone and go fetch yours," he replied as you heard Han groan in the back. It was almost as if you could feel him deadpanning from the other side of the phone.

You frowned even if you had a smile on your features, not taking the comment completely seriously. "Ok, rude. What a meanie."

"Jokes aside." You heard him breathe in from the other side of the phone. Oh boy. "The interminable teasing and bickering between you and Chan were amusing at first, but it's getting very stale and surprise, fucker, you live together!" He paused, clicking his tongue. "So, why don't you two cut the bullshit and admit your sexual and non-sexual feelings for each other?"

"My what?!"

"This is getting old really quick, goddamnit." You could feel him getting worked up, not just because of his tone but because he kept ignoring Han, whose comments echoed at the back of the phone call.

But Minho was serious. He was not gonna get cockblocked for ten bucks. Not tonight.

"You're getting kinda off-base, buddy!"

"Oh, it's almost one o'clock, fucking spare me!" He grumbled, getting slightly angrier. "Yeah, I get it. It's Chan. He can be a dick sometimes because of his severe self-esteem issues and how he doesn't know how to communicate his feelings all that well. But I kinda think he reminds you about that other guy you dated in our dance team, who was an absolute son of a bitch, and we can agree that you deserve to be with someone who's not that complicated or whatever, but still, you can't get Chan out of your head, can you? Don't answer. We know it." He interrupted you, unable to speak as you were just getting bombarded with facts you didn't want to deal with.

"But you? I've known you for years, yet you're still being a dumbass. You're behaving like a baby who'd rather act tough than show her true feelings 'cause last time, you got hurt! Owie," he cooed, tone still angrily mocking. "And now you're just dancing around the other in this pathetic act you're tryna put up to hide your pent-up feelings, SO, AGAIN, for my sake, either deal with it and stop bitching my man about it, or get over with it already!"

"Minho, I-!" You turned silent as you heard a beeping sound coming from your phone.

He hung up.

You stared at the screen, eyes almost out of place, as you muted the device, letting it vibrate with the unread texts Jisung sent, apologising in every way he knew.

"A baby?" You muttered, the word almost sickening in your mouth. "I am not a baby!"

You laid back down on your bed, rolling on your sides, Minho's words echoing in your mind as you cursed under your breath. Almost unconsciously, you stood up, left your room and approached Chan's as if wanting to enter just to get his confirmation regarding his allegedly existing feelings for you.

He startled you when he closed his door, meeting you in the hallway, his eyes glued to yours as soon as he saw you.

"Oh. Hey." You mentioned awkwardly.

"Hey," he said, tensed-up shoulders visible due to the lack of sleeves on his shirt. "I just... uh..."

"I... wanted to say that, uh..."

"I am sorry if I... uh..."

"It's ok... I uh... don't... I mean... I know that you can't really uh... control... it?"

You could almost hear Minho's laugh in your mind.

"Right," he sighed. You smiled reassuringly, and he did the same in an uneasy stance.

"Right. I mean, for all I know, it could happen for whatever reason."

"I uh, kinda, I guess."

"But never mind. I uh... 'm glad we feel the same way."

You both smiled sheepishly and headed to your respective rooms.

Chan sighed, hurriedly getting back to bed, wishing to get weird ideas out of his mind, not bothering to check his computer again. He rolled in bed, hand anxiously travelling through his hair so frequently that it was starting to get greasy.

He frowned, passing his hands through his face, the scene in the kitchen crossing his mind again, his already weak excuse for not being so clearly attracted to you crumbling when he remembered the eagerness he thought he had seen in your eyes.

He stood up again and went to open the door just to go check, because what if he hadn't just made it up in his mind?

But then, he met you right in front of his room.

Before you could escape or come up with anything, he approached you and pecked your lips, feeling his heart skip ten beats when you pushed him away.

His eyes locked into yours, a sight of contentment leaving his lips as you grabbed his shirt and pulled him back in, smiling in the kiss. It heated very quickly, a sloppy kiss with all tongues and teeth, both fighting for dominance. You went to get the edge of his shirt, but instead, he gave you a light smack on your thighs, and you jumped, legs crossing around his waist, arms around his neck as he guided both of you into his room, closing the door with a kick.

The two of you breathed heavily, the air thick with anticipation and lust. He pinned you up against the closed door and kissed hard, feeling the heat rising as your bodies tightened against one another. Your tongues met, mingling in an intense way that drove you wild. You let out soft sounds of pleasure, suddenly changing sides, pulling him away just enough so you could have access to his neck, your teeth trailing from his jaw, trying to find a sensitive spot.

He whined, barely moving away, trying to calm himself down, the sudden blow of emotions too intense for him. He then panted, and you quickly went back to that spot you had found, nibbling on it. "What are we- fuck- what are we doing?"

You set a finger on his lips, your face going back to his. "Shhh. Let's just... enjoy it," you whispered, leaving a small chaste kiss at the corner of his lips, tempting him. You then flinched, moving away "Unless you don't want..."

He let out a groan, deep and enticing, hungrily going back to your mouth. You wrapped your arms around his neck and kissed him back, your lips pressing firmly against his.

"No... I want you."

"And I want you too, Chris." You admitted, doe eyes trailing down to his lips, licking your own. "Now."

[☆☆★☆☆]

Your schedule had gotten filled up to the brim, chances of meeting Chan reserved for the ungodly hours of the night, which were used to get some well deserved sleep. Rehearsing over and over left your body exhausted, your mind clouded in the remaining work you had left, only the most sinful parts of it replaying the encounter that had happened barely three nights ago.

It was obvious that he was awake, the light in his room shining from underneath the door, knowning that he’d probably be working on his samples.

And he had tried, looking for one of the files he had recorded that delicious night. But something felt wrong. He frowned, looking at how long the audio was.

He played it before using it, at first just hearing random noises he was recording. Then he heard himself groaning, the sound of the bed sheets moving with his body, and then, after some loud steps, the door creaked open.

And those voices were you and him, that was no doubt. He blushed, the sound of the door slamming close getting his mind back to three nights ago.

“Ah, fuck, Chan!” You moaned through his headphones.

The bed creaked under both of you in rythmic beats, matching each thrust, your moans decorating the purple-lit room.

As both an idol and a producer, Chan had listened to many voices and samples for a long time, ears used to the constant stimulation, but the sound of your needy whines as he slowed down in hopes of not coming too soon made the task even more difficult.

“Don’t- ugh, fuck-,” he whined, hearing the heavy breathing through the recording. “Let me hear you, baby, please.”

Chan tried to pause the recording, a flustered mess, but instead accidentally unplugged his headphones, the sound of creaks and moans filling his room once again.

He paused it, mortified. Where you home? Fuck, he didn’t want you to think he was recording you in secret.

He turned around slowly when the door creaked open.

“What's going on here?” You walked in with an oversized top on, the cut of the sleeves made so that your body could be seen through the sides of the tank top.

“I-i uh…”

“Don’t have too much fun without me.”

“Chan? Are you listening?” Changbin questioned, frowning.

“Uh?”

He remembered that he wasn’t inside his room, like the night before, your thighs straddling his, but in the studio, showing his friends the audio he had put together. He couldn’t help but smile and get lost in his thoughts when certain creaks came out.

“We like it,” Han repeated. “We can get to writting lyrics soon enough.”

Chan’s phone chimed next to him, his eyes trailing it with no thoughts to it.

Let’s have fun again tonight.

He bit his lip, turning his phone off.

“I’ll call it Heyday,” he mentioned to his friends, renaming the new audio file.

He’d keep the other one a secret.

[☆☆★☆☆]

[hard hours]

~Kats, who came up with this idea on the beach and has had it stuck in her head since day one.

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bluberryfields · 1 year

Text

"I want a proper apology."

The dramatic “apology dance”

In the entirety of Season 2, I think the “apology dance” scene is pretty close to my favorite.

The way Crowley walks in like he’s entering a stage in a packed theater.

The way Azi clearly sees him coming and fusses himself up to look extra focused on his work and not at all excited about Crowley’s return.

Crowley, noticing that Azi has yet to look at him, ramps up the drama by:

Whipping off his glasses (taking off his armor)

Response from Azi? Clears his throat and focuses harder on his work.

Time for Level 2 Drama, it seems.

Stalking over to the table (no sauntering here)

Tossing the glasses down (looks casual but absolutely isn’t)

Ringing that little bell (like a ceremonial gong signaling “this is fucking happening”)

Walking back into the rotunda where he has maximum visibility (also maximum vulnerability)

Azi now has no choice but to react, which he does by slowly looking up and over at Crowley, who looks like the human-shaped embodiment of dread.

Finally announcing “I’m back” like the bitchy customer who just yesterday had declared they were never shopping here again

I mean, wow. Amazing. Glorious.

Not to be outcunted, Azi just casually turns back to his work and practically hums, “Yes. I can see that.”

Damn, Aziraphale, did you take lessons in passive aggression from my mother?

Now Crowley groans in a way that I felt to my core and asks, “Do you want a big, ‘I think I said the wrong thing,’ sort of an apology, or can we take that as said?”

He averts his eyes until the last second because this probably feels more demeaning than begging Azi not to do his magic act at Warlock’s birthday part.

Still turned away, Azi replies in a tone that is a mix of hurt and guilt that makes me think this has been coming for awhile. "I'd like the apology actually." I bet you would, Angel.

Back to Crowley, he pauses to assess his options, takes a deep breath, and says the magic words: “You were right.” Also looks like he almost says something else but either doesn’t know what to say or doesn’t want to say it.

Oh wow, so convincing. Bravo.

Finally, Azi puts down his glasses and his work and turns to address Crowley. He is not happy.

“Not good enough. I want a proper apology.” Also, side note, but Michael Sheen’s voice here is just…yum.

Before Azi can finish, Crowley is so quick to reject this idea. “No.” with a shake of the head.

You're not winning this battle, Crowley, and you know it.

“With the little dance.” Azi’s voice perks up and his eyes brighten at the hope this will happen. Seize that opportunity!

Again, Crowley barely let’s the word “dance” come out before he tries to shut it down. “I don’t do the dance.” Nope, no sir, not this demon.

Oh no, now Azi’s anger joins the hurt and guilt for a vicious trifecta. “I did the ‘I was wrong’ dance in 1650, 1793, 1941…” each date being spat out with increasing amounts of venom.

Oh Crowley, you brought this on yourself, girl.

This non-apology combined with his “I'm sorry. I apologize. Whatever I said, I didn’t mean it. Work with me, I’m apologizing here. Yes? Good. Get in the car.” and I can see why Azi reacts to this the way he does.

Crowley knows he’s beaten and concedes with a “Fine!” that feels the very opposite of the word.

Okay so before the “proper apology” can begin, Azi gets up from his chair, straightens his waistcoat, and stands with his hands grasped in front of him like a proper gentleman. A properly petty gentleman.

Then the main attraction! Crowley, looking completely stone-faced, does “the little dance.”

It’s wonderful. He looks so silly and childish and graceful and mature. And god, that deep knee bend at the end? Amazing.

Also amazing is Crowley’s face when he says "Kay?” while bobbing his head and eyebrows back like a sassy rooster? *chef’s kiss*

For Azi’s part, god it is just a delicious mix of polite poker face and barely concealed thirst. I see your eyes scanning Crowley, drinking in that thin, dark Duke. That little dance will live in his head forever.

And that’s the signal to go back to normal! Crowley regains control and Azi falls back into the supporting role.

Long-term relationships are hard, yo.

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1d1195 · 1 year

Text

Faking It

Sometimes while I'm listening to music, things just pop into my head about Harry and I have to write it out real fast before I forget. This is just a little random blurb that I’m posting for no reason.

best friend/roommate!reader x famous!Harry

Warnings: sexual tension, sexual wording

Not proofread (written in my drafts on my phone)

Harry is watching her dance her little heart out to whatever is playing in her ears while she aggressively folds the sheets and towels out of the dryer. He can hear the music playing from where he's standing in the kitchen getting a glass of water. They've been best friends for years and since Harry is often on tour, it's nice to have someone keep an eye on his place, water the flowers, and just...be there when he gets home or shoots home during one of his quick breaks.

She's funny and lovely. One of his favorite people. She doesn't mind acting silly around him and doesn't care if he never cleans up when he's home. "I just like when my best friend is here," she says.

"What are y'even listening to?" She turns down the music so she can hear him.

"It's called Little White Lies, it's by this great band. M'sure you've heard of them: One Direction?" She has the most impish smile on her lips.

He stares at her and blinks slowly. He hates when she does this. It's so annoying. But he finds her adorable anyway. It's been a while since he's been home and he likes seeing her in her element. As if he weren't here. He likes that she's comfortable with him. It feels...like home.

But then, since she's his best friend, she has to go and ruin it.

She shrugs. "Y'know, Harry. Bet you would get a nice girlfriend if they knew they didn't have to fake orgasms around you all the time," she winked at him pushing the laundry basket toward the hallway to the bedrooms before she starts in on the second load of clothing.

He doesn't want to know. If he asks, he'll regret it. "What are y'on 'bout?" He tilted his head back. It was one of those conversations he knew he was going to be exhausted by before it even started.

"When she's alone she goes home to a cactus. In a black dress, she's such an actress?" She quoted his own lyrics to him but phrased it as a question. "Such an actress?" She repeated. "Too bad Harry," she tisks. "You even gotta talk about a dildo being a cactus...like one of the rabbit ones,” she giggled.

Harry wonders if he strangles her if they'll question him first. He's a popstar after all. "M'gonna kill you," he says darting toward her around the half kitchen wall to tickle her. She squeals and takes off to the other side of the room, hiding behind the couch.

"Cause you've been telling me, all night with your little white lies."

"Nobody fakes orgasms with me," he grumbled. "Liam and Louis wrote that song."

She smirked. "Sensitive. I don't mean anything by it," she giggles. "Just think it's funny."

"I'll prove it," he says hopping on the couch and reaching over to grab her before she can escape. She squeals at his aggressive hold as he tosses her down (gently) onto the sofa. "Take y'pants off," he orders.

"Harry," she gasps, face blushing. The headphones fall from her ears, her phone drops to the floor.

"Take 'em off," he repeats. "You'll see."

"Harry," she whispers breathlessly. "I was just kidding."

But his eyes are hungry now. He's looking her over if he's just noticing that she's a girl. A beautiful, adorable, pain-in-the-butt, girl. His best friend that he adores with all his heart. "M'not," his voice is low. Her heart hammers erratically against her ribs.

She can't say she hasn't been dreaming of this. She wants this. She doesn't believe she'll have to fake it. But she doesn't want to force him to do it to prove a point. "Harry," she tries again, but her voice is weak. The protest is faint in her voice. "You don't have--"

"Bet y'have t'fake it all the time, hmm?" He's hovering above her. His legs straddling her hips, his arms pinning her shoulders down. She can't move her gaze from his. She's immobile. He drops his mouth to her ear. "Don't you?" He murmurs so lowly it vibrates all through her body. Right to the space between her thighs. “Bet y'dream about me when m'not here. When you're with someone else,” his lips brush the pulse along the side of her neck. He kisses the space at the bottom of her throat. "I dream about you when m’alone,” her brain is spinning to keep up. She was just joking him. He was too brave to admit that. She’s terrified she’s going to mess up. But he’s inhaling her skin like he’s sniffing out a weakness. Her whole body is one weak spot for him. “S'that why y'like it so much?" He mumbles. "S'that why y'like m'song. Because you're an actress for everyone else? You're not gonna be an actress for me, right? You're gonna be a good girl and not tell me any little white lies?" He asks it as a question, but she knows it's a statement.

"Harry," it was her last chance to protest.

“No, love. M’sure,” he promise sensing the question in just the way she uttered his name. Maybe the benefit to being her best friend he knew what she was thinking. Always. “Jus’ say the word, love,” his lips are a breath away. If she inhales too deeply or exhales at all she’ll be kissing Harry Styles. “Do y’want me t’prove it?”

His eyes are so green his skin smells so good. She can’t breathe or move.

“Yes.”

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tojisun · 8 months

Note

no, but can you imagine dbf! simon and new boyfriend! toji actually interacting. place your bets on how long it takes for a fight to break out. five minutes or five seconds? and whose "starts it" (because you know that's what they're gonna say, as if they're kids)? i'm betting on toji for that one.

I WENT FERAL READING THIS??? GI OMG 😭

……oki but imagine toji being such a menace that the moment he meets dbf!simon he goes, “oh. so yer the ex.” he runs his eyes over simon. “y’don’t look much.” toji turns to you. “this the one y’were losin’ yer mind over?”

“toji.”

toji pulls you closer towards him, rubbing his arm along your shoulder. “m’sorry, kid,” he says, smiling sheepishly. “y’know it isn’t a dig on you, yeah?”

“oh god,” you groan because that doesn’t de-escalate the situation , not when simon’s arms are crossed over his chest and his eyes furrowed in anger. “let’s just–”

“you’re a pathetic replacement, s’what it is,” simon drawls, cutting you off.

the words pierce through you, pulling you under the memories of your heartache because simon does that well, anyway—he’s good at reminding you of the way you look for him in everyone.

and to hear that it must be the same thing with toji–

you snap your head towards your new boyfriend, denial already on the tip of your tongue because simon may be right about the others but not with toji. not with him–

but toji’s already moving, his warmth leaving you because—oh god!—he’s moved to throw the first punch, his curled fist hit simon’s jaw straight on with a sickening crunch. simon stumbles with a groan, wide eyes blinking, and then he’s returning the hit.

the two fall in a sort of wicked dance, both good at reading each other’s moves and retaliating with something even more painful. you stay out of the way, not knowing how to stop it, let alone how to break their focus. you thumb your phone in your pocket, wondering if you need to call 911 at this point but.

you tell yourself that you might just be biased, that the months of piled up anger and hurt are making you see things, but you think that toji might actually be overpowering simon.

you are proven right when toji throws one final punch and then simon falters before tipping over, his body tumbling to the ground. you watch with morbid fascination, your blood jumping in excitement because this, for some reason, feels like vindication.

“so,” toji says, his voice making you rip your eyes away from simon’s bloody form. “y’proud i won or?”

you blink, mouth agape, then you’re jumping into his arms. toji catches you with a chuckle, his scarred lips tracing a kiss on your cheek.

“so fucking proud,” you tell him with a giggle.

toji pulls back just enough that you see his boyish grin. “yeah?” you nod. “good. all those punches are for you.”

“oh, you,” you murmur, eyes fluttering, cheeks burning.

simon groans on the floor but you and toji ignore him.

i did the math and tojis heavenly restricted body would honestly fold simon :/

giselle this made me crazy ur so silly i fucking love it??? idk why i started typing like im actually serious about this (i am) but dhejdjrjjejd 😭😭

#giselle <3 #ask #dbf!simon #toji fushiguro x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #GIGGLING THERES NOT A SINGLE SERIOUS BONE BETWEEN ALL OF US

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corroded-hellfire · 1 year

Note

OMG Wait for thé As You Wish baby Eliza idea fics I was thinking about something like this: https://www.tiktok.com/t/ZTRTyDcC5/

All of the Munson family is on the floor lined up and cooing at baby Eliza to crawl/walk towards one of them to see who she favors more.

Eliza Munson is now an obsession of mine. I love her almost as much as Eddie does. @munson-blurbs and I had so much fun (as we always do together) writing this and having the little Munson family get weird and have fun 🩷

Words: 1.2k

[As You Wish masterlist]

“Come on, Eliza,” Luke says with a sigh. He pulls out the chair next to her highchair and plops down in it. “Why won’t she just eat it?”

“Would you want to eat strained peas?” Ryan asks, brandishing the label on the baby food jar at his little brother. “It probably tastes worse than normal peas.”

Luke hops up and dips his pinky into the jar. He sticks it in his mouth and immediately pulls it right back out. His face scrunches up in repulsion and he makes a gagging sound. “Yep. Definitely worse.”

“Don’t make that face in front of her!” Ryan chides. “She’ll never want to eat it!”

But the little giggles from the highchair have both boys turning to look at their sister. Her big eyes are focused on Luke as he makes his face of disgust.

“You think that’s funny, huh?” Luke says, leaning in towards the nine-month-old. “You like when I make silly faces?” He puckers his lips together like a fish, which has Eliza giggling even harder. “You love me so much, don’t you?” Luke swore he’d never cave in and use the baby-talk voice that everyone else uses with his sister, but that didn’t last very long. Now he uses it almost every time he talks to her.

“All right, Eliza,” Ryan says, bringing a small spoonful of the unappetizing green baby food up towards her lips. “You gonna have some food now? Have some yummy lunch?”

“Don’t lie to her,” Luke says, making Ryan roll his eyes.

“Don’t listen to him,” Ryan tells the baby. “Gonna open up? Yeah, there you go.” Eliza holds her tiny mouth open long enough for Ryan to feed her the peas. Eliza makes a face at the unpleasant taste on her tongue and smacks her lips together a few times, but she doesn’t spit it out.

“Yes!” Ryan cheers. “I did it! I got her to eat her vegetables.”

“Well, yeah,” Luke says with a scoff. “Because I made her laugh.”

“She laughs at anything. The other day, I unzipped my coat and she laughed so hard that she farted,” Ryan retorts, bringing another small spoonful of peas to his sister’s lips.

Luke pouts, sticking his tongue out at Ryan. “You’re just jealous because I’m obviously her favorite.”

“Ha! In your dreams.”

“Wanna bet?”

That’s how you and Eddie find your three children sprawled out on the family room floor. Luke and Ryan are on one side, and Eliza’s on the other.

“C’mon! Come over here!” Ryan calls out, motioning the baby towards him. “You can do it, Eliza!”

“Do I even wanna know what you two are up to?” Eddie asks, smirking at the boys.

“Trying to see which one of us is her favorite,” Luke casually replies, as though this is a normal occurrence.

“Ah, well, at least you’re not training her for some sort of horse racing thing with babies,” Eddie laughs, scratching at the stubble on his chin. “Anyway, don’t worry about who her favorite is.”

“She loves us equally,” you remind them with a patient smile.

But Eddie rolls his eyes playfully. “Uh, no. I was gonna say that they don’t need to worry about it because I’m clearly the favorite.”

“Ha!” you bark out. “Remember whose body housed her for nine months and produced food for her. I literally gave her life. Therefore, I should be the favorite.”

“You should be,” Eddie says, a glimmer of mischief dancing in his eyes, “however, you’ve neglected to account for the fact that she’s a total daddy’s girl.”

Ryan’s next to speak up. “Well, I’m the one who named her. If you left it up to Luke, we’d be calling her Squidward.”

“Only if she was a boy!” Luke protests. “Besides, I make her laugh the most. She knows I’m funny, so I’m her favorite.”

Eddie turns to you. “I think there’s only one way to settle this,” he says with a shrug.

“I think so,” you agree. Turning towards the boys, you motion for them to scoot down so that you can get down on the floor next to them. Eddie scoops up Eliza from where she’d wandered over towards the toy box in the corner of the room. He straightens the tiny black Metallica shirt she’s wearing and sits her down in the middle of the room.

“Here we go,” he says, pressing a kiss to her head before coming over to get on the ground next to you. “Okay, on the count of three, everyone start calling for her. Ready? One, two, three.”

“Come on, baby!” you call, making grabby hands for your daughter.

“Eliza! C’mere to Daddy, baby girl!”

“Hey, hey, Eliza!” Luke coos. “Over here!”

“You know you love your big brother Ryan! Come here!”

Eliza stays seated in her spot, her eyes roaming over her four family members, wondering what in the hell they are doing. She’s seen some weird things in her nine months, but never this.

“Luke, stop making funny faces. You’re distracting her!” Ryan says.

“I’m trying to get her to come over here!” he responds.

The baby finally pushes herself into a crawling position and starts to move. The four older family members practically hold their breath as they wait to see in what direction she’s headed. Eliza veers to the right, headed towards Eddie. Her father lets out an evil, triumphant laugh and grins as she gets closer.

“That’s right, baby. Show them Daddy is your favorite.” But then her movements pause, and Eliza begins to head towards her mother.

“Yes!” you say, encouragingly. “That’s my sweet girl!” You shoot a smirk over your shoulder at Eddie. “You were saying?”

Eliza starts crawling towards you, but Ryan starts drumming his hands against the carpet and that catches her attention. Her course once again changes, and she heads towards her brothers.

“No!” you say. “Don’t betray me! My only daughter!”

“Uh, mine too, ya know,” Eddie says from the other side of you. “Eliza, remember who always sings you to sleep.” He launches into the chorus of “Enter Sandman,” headbanging while the little girl giggles.

Your heart sinks as Eliza starts towards him, but she immediately stops crawling when she hears the knock at the door and sits back on her diaper-padded bottom.

“That must be Wayne,” Eddie says. He’d invited him over for dinner, and the older man never turns down an opportunity to see his grandkids. “Come in!” he calls out, not moving from his spot on the floor.

The doorknob twists as Wayne enters, heavy-footed in steel-toed boots. His gaze is drawn immediately to the five of you on the floor.

“What on God’s green Earth did I walk into?”

Luke’s the only one not remotely embarrassed. “Trying to see who Eliza loves the most,” he casually explains.

Before Wayne can formulate a response, the baby does an about-face and crawls directly to him. She sits at his feet, making grabby hands and whining so he’ll pick her up.

“Huh,” Wayne says with a grin. “Wouldja look at that. Seems like Miss Eliza chose me!”

The rest of you groan and grumble, erupting into a chorus of not fairs.

“Does this mean that Grampa Wayne is her favorite?” Luke asks, unable to hide his envy.

Wayne laughs, tickling his granddaughter’s feet. “C’mon, you didn’t need a competition to know that!”

Eliza claps her hands together clumsily in agreement.

“The princess has spoken,” Eddie begrudgingly agrees. A glint of mischief flickers across his deep brown eyes as he looks at his uncle. “Unfortunately, the prize is changing her diaper. And, uh, she’s really been into prunes lately, so…” he claps a hand on Wayne’s back. “Congrats!”

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #older!eddie #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fan fiction #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fic #AYW #AYWS #request #AYW tok

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a-twistedheartslonging · 3 months

Note

Cawcaw cawcaw, Harpy anon is back. And I have thoughts.

I know I was the one who previously came up with Harpy Pomefiore, but I've been thinking and making Rook into an Aplca has caused me to go down a rabbit hole. I can't help but imagine him with his bangs all froofy and curly. And his stupid lil hat that has ear holes so he doesn't squish his pointy ears. He's no longer a predator animal, but honestly I think it fits more with the Rook we meet in the actual game than we as the Fandom perceive him. But it does mean less exciting nights without Owl Rook.

Also, Harpy Chicken Deuce. It needed to be said. He's just a dumb lil bird and he's adorable. Aside from that I came up with Fennec Fox Ace, Red Panda Cater, Brown Bear Trey, and Mouse Riddle. I don't know if any of these have been proposed to you already but I've been having brain rot about it for a while now.

Imagine Riddle trying to stop a fight between the screaming chicken and the scheming fox. The mousy boy has zero chance of getting anything done. It isn't until Trey wakes up from one of his naps to scold them.

Speaking of Trey, Imagine what winters like with brown bear Trey. Expect to be cuddled to death and back. And also be prepared to be hand fed a lot because to him you're just a sweet lil human who needs him to help feed you and keep you warm. No amount of convincing and can tell him otherwise.

Also Red Panda Cater is just so cute. Funfact, red pandas will put their arms up in the air when threatened to make themselves seem bigger than they actually are. Imagine jumpscaring him and the first thing he does is just put his hands up in the air like he's been caught with something.

Just thoughts I wanted to share!

💓💓💓

Even as a cute floof, no one is safe from Rook.

For real though, I love alpaca.

That's me meeting Rook.

And the babies look long and silly.

Riddle would make such a cute mousey mouse. I would want to feed him and give him smooches.

With the history between foxes and chickens, you just know Ace is gonna make jokes about eating Deuce. Dude needs to be careful though since angry roosters are no joke.

Trey would make such a good bear; I would love for his fur to match his hair so he's just a big old green bear. Catch him curled up for a nap and you might mistake him for a bush.

I would kill to see him do the back scratch dance they do.

He would give the absolute beast bear hugs and the naps/cuddles would be amazing. Oh, and getting to touch his big old paw claw hands. I bet he would love to compare the size of your hands to his.

Ah, and we know how bears are all about food, you will indeed be well-fed.

That thing about red pandas is so cute, he would probably have to deal with the others scaring him on purpose because of it, similar to why the other guys like to scare their human. The reactions are just so cute.

#twisted wonderland #twst #ask #asks #nonhuman au

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dickarchivist · 9 months

Text

Slip of the Tongue

Sergeant Hunter x fem!Reader (pabu native, fishing woman)

Word Count: 2621

Prompt: I had a very funny dream. You're welcome.

AU Fix-It: Everyone is happy on Pabu

Rating: PG for language, but as always Minors DNI 🔞

Contents and Warnings: second hand embarrassment, confessions of feelings (accidental), side wagers, boys bein boys (affectionate and not evil), broken wrist mention but nothing graphic, light swearing and Crosshair saying "sex" at one point.

Summary: Hunter and Reader dance around their feelings because they're just not sure if the other is receptive or not. This spurs a bet between the members of The Bad Batch, will they confess on purpose? Or will it be an accident?

Author's Notes: I woke up from a dream about this laughing so damn hard. Shout out to Clone Force 69 for laughing with me about this silly dream.

Because this fic bounces around a bit, Reader is referred to as "Rea" instead of "you", but the MC is still left ambiguous/fem without description so anyone can place themselves there.

"Rea, careful." Hunter grabs her waist and pulls her away from the edge of the narrow steps along one of the outer walls of Pabu. Instinctively, Rea's arms go around him, but she laughs, a soft blush on her face, "You know I was born here, right?"

"And I was born on Kamino, doesn't make those waters any safer for me. Doesn't make the cliffs safer for you." Rea's heart speeds up when his thumb rubs her hip, but Hunter gently pulls away after she's steaded.

She wanted to kiss him. He thought she wanted to get away. Neither got what they wanted.

××××××

"Hunter, I um... I made some extra pasta last night, little too much actually, do you want to have lunch with me?" Rea's heart is pounding again, and Hunter can smell anxiety on her.

He's hungry, for more than just pasta, but Rea's anxiety makes him second guess. Before he can turn her down, she blurts, "Omega can join us! I-ive definitely got enough for her too, um--"

"Oh! Yes then, alright," his nod is too fast, her anxiety melding with sorrow now. He kicks himself for it later. Why wasn't he any good at this? He reads her emotions, knows what they mean, but somehow whatever he does he's wrong.

Omega isn't too upset about it, she loves to eat, and she loves spending time with Rea. Almost as much as Hunter does, and she picks up on that fairly easily. You'd have to be a brick wall, not to see it. "Thanks for lunch, Rea, I'm gonna see if Echo's called yet. He promised he'd check in today!"

When Omega scurries off, Hunter shifts a bit, more relaxed yet somehow his heart is still pounding, "You uh... you're a good cook."

Rea blushes, careful not to let the compliment go straight to her head, "Truthfully, not a very good cook. I started to learn how after you showed up, wanted to... wanted to um..."

"Rea? Do I make you uncomfortable?"

"No!" Her eyes go wide, hands darting for his on impulse, "No never! What makes you say that? Did I do something wrong?"

"No! No just- you're an asset," Hunter wants to slam his head into the table. Asset? Really? Idiot. He doesn't slam his head down, but he does scowl, angry with himself, looking down at their hands together.

His heart sinks further when Rea pulls her hands away. She thinks she's over stepped, folding them neatly in her lap, trying hard not to fidget, "well... I'm glad I'm useful for you, at least. I-I mean that! It's not a dig! I'm--" she sighs, looking at him under her lashes, "I'm happy I can do something for you, Hunter... and the others! Them too!"

Over by the Marauder, Wrecker smirks, crossing his arms over his chest as he jabs a thumb toward the impromptu picnic, "Accident."

Tech, shakes his head, a knowing nod toward the two helplessly flirting yet somehow never being upfront, "Incorrect. Given Hunter's senses, he knows that she is receptive to his feelings, and returns them in kind. They will confess on purpose."

"Bet on it?" Wrecker leans over, quirking an eyebrow.

"Wrecker, you are aware that you've lost the last dozen wagers we've had. Statistically, the odds do not favor you." Tech adjusts his goggles, now busying himself with one of his sensors, "Do you even have credits to wager?"

"All my snack funds. If it's an accident, you owe me what I lost the last five bets. If they do it on purpose, you get everything I have." Wrecker looks absolutely sure of himself, shoulders back, grin wide.

Tech would be lying if he said the offer didn't tempt him. All the money he earned from his and Wrecker's bets did go into their mouths anyway. The opportunity to have full control of Wrecker's diet and get him off those wretched fuel station snack foods was just too good to pass up. Because, statistically, this was an incredibly safe bet.

"Alright Wrecker, you're on."

×××××××××××××

"Do you want us to bring anything? Wrecker eats a lot, and with Crosshair and Echo home, it's gonna be eight of us counting Wrecker's appetite." Hunter rubs the back of his neck, looking over at his group of siblings, "Are you sure you even want us over?"

Rea sighs, her shoulders slumping a little as a small smile turns on her lips, "Hunter..." He'd misunderstood her invitation to come to dinner. She'd wanted just him, a chance to finally tell him how she felt, but any opportunity to be with him, she would take it, "Bring a few drinks? Maybe a few ingredients if you and the others want something in particular. I'll see if my uncle will let me borrow his table."

"You're sure this is okay? You said your place was small, we aren't exactly small ourselves." His eyes widen just a touch when she holds his hand in hers. He relaxes a bit, smiles just enough for her heart to race, "Alright, we'll be by this evening."

×××××××××

"She's gonna find someone who's actually upfront with his feelings if Hunter isn't quick enough," Echo chuckles, watching them interact.

"Care to join our friendly wager, Echo?" Tech looks up momentarily from his soldering panel to gauge Echo's interest, then proceeds with his explanation and his panel work, "Wrecker believes they will confess on accident, whereas the smart credits are that it will be on purpose."

"Oh yeah? Who's betting on the smart credits?" The edge of Echo's smile tilts up, smirking because he already knows the answer. Omega has regaled him on their last phone call.

"Right now the pool has a 1 to 3 split with four participants. You would make five."

Echo flinches just a second before the humor returns to him, "Tech, who's betting on their confession being on purpose?" He laughs a bit louder as Tech frowns, "Just you then huh?"

"It's logical! Hunter and Rea share similar feelings, he can sense her willingness and receptivity, there is nothing that says otherwise. When they confess, it will be purposeful."

Echo rolls his eyes affectionately, "Alright, I'll join the bet."

"Excellent, you understand the logi-"

"This has accident written all over it, Tech, I'm going with the smart credits, betting against you."

"Traitor." As Tech huffs, Echo busts laughing, and throws his credits into the mix with Crosshair, Wrecker, and Omega's.

××××××××××××

To say the little home was crowded would be an understatement. Wrecker was very quickly banished from the kitchen, his tall and broad frame took up far too much room for anyone be productive while he was there. "Awww that's no fair, I'm the best cook!"

"Debatable," Crosshair ticks, pushing Wrecker into the backyard area, "Let's go big guy. I'm sure there's something out here we can do."

Omega grins brightly, her bow coming off her back quick, "Rea has clay disks! We could shoot!"

"Now hang on, that's-" but Rea cuts Hunter off quick with the squeeze of his hand, "Rea?"

Rea smiles at Omega, then look up to Hunter, "I asked her what could be fun for everyone to do, and I... well, my brother and I used to shoot clay disks when we were kids. Since Crosshair and Omega are both sharp shooters, I thought it would be nice, so I bought a few cases. Wrecker can throw them, those two can shoot, Tech can do calculations, Echo gets to relax for a second, and-- I um... I'd like your help in the kitchen, if that'd be alright?"

His eyes are soft on Rea... of course. Of course she'd thought of them. She was always thinking about them, bringing med kits, real food, taking them exploring on Pabu, making sure they felt at home. That he felt at home. Hunter finally manages a smile at her, soft and light, "I'd be happy to help."

×××××××××××

Tech nudges Wrecker as the big man opens up the crate of clay disks, "There, see? A confession. I told you it would be on purpose."

Omega giggles at that, "Uh, Tech, that wasn't really a confession. They make eyes at each other like that all the time."

"She asked his help, specifically to help in the kitchen, which she had just informed us no one else should be there but her. It was a confession, she wants him by her side." Tech crosses his arms, and Omega mirrors him, making their brothers chuckle.

"Not a confession." Wrecker tosses one of the disks, cheering as it explodes thanks to a quick shot from Omega.

"Think about it, Tech," Crosshair takes a turn with Omega's bow, nodding at Wrecker to throw several disks at once, "You're a man of facts. Does "happy to help" sound anything like "I love you"," he pulls the bowstring and lets loose three bolts in rapid succession, making Omega and Wrecker both whoop as the disks burst, "Sounds a lot like "I'm doing you a favor" to me."

As the others murmer in agreement, Tech huffs, then flicks up his data pad, "Crosshair has six disks, to Omega's two."

"Damn straight."

"Ah just wait Crosshair, I'll beat you this time!"

Omega didn't beat Crosshair, but they did have fun, and that was win in itself.

××××××××××××

"Hunter, I'm fine, I can walk." Rea flinches as she's lifted from the dock. She cradles her wrist, careful not to put more pressure on it as tears spill down her cheeks.

"No you're not," Hunter's voice is hard, not cruel, but protective, "I heard your bones, that's not a twist, it's broken, now quit squirming."

Crosshair rolls his eyes, watching Hunter carry Rea away from the docks and back to the town, "If I didn't know any better I'd say they were married, the way he overreacted at that fall."

"Jealous you don't have someone to carry you, Cross?" Echo ribs him, pushing his shoulder playfully, "I think Wrecker would if you asked nice."

"And die of the stench? I'd rather walk," a smirk hits the corner of Crosshair's lips, and he pushes Echo back, "Just think it's ridiculous, that's all. It was her wrist, not her ankle. He didn't have to carry her."

×××××××××××××××

"Hey Echo? You got a sec?" Hunter rubs the back of his neck, looking sidelong at Rea as she shows Omega a few new fishing techniques popular to the peaceful island, "It's about Rea..."

"She okay? Wrist better?" Echo leans back to glance around Hunter, then looks back at Hunter when he notices nothing out of the ordinary, "What, she got a boyfriend?"

"Does she?" Hunter looks embarrassed near immediately, smacking the butt of his fist into his forehead as Echo laughs, "Kriff, shut it!"

"Okay, alright, what's your question?" He tries to keep the laugher down, mostly for the sake of the bet.

Hunter scuffs his boots on the dock, one hand on his hip as the other continues to rub his neck. Echo's patient with him, knowing he's not the best with words, but Hunter catches him off guard, "D'you think she likes me?"

Echo takes a very deep breath, pinching the bridge of his nose, then lets it out slow. "Hunter, I'm gonna ask you a few questions."

"Alright," the Sergeant crosses his arms with a nod, "Let's hear em."

"Has Rea ever greeted one of us, not counting Omega, before you?"

"No."

"Has she ever brought anyone else caf in the mornings?"

"Crosshair, once."

"But what is actually for him, or did he just steal it from you because you weren't there to collect it? I'll tell you the answer: Crosshair's a thief."

Hunter scowls at Crosshair further off on a fishing boat, then looks back at Echo to keep going. Echo chuckles, shakes his head, and leans forward with his elbows on his knees, "Kriff, Hunter, really? Fine. Does she ever actually invite the squad to meals, or do you just assume so because she said "you"?"

It takes a moment for Hunter to answer that one, and he's embarrassed about the conclusion, "I've been inviting you lot, haven't I?"

"Even Tech would've recognized that as her asking you out. Hunter, she likes you."

There's a pause, Hunter's eyes searching the ground as he thinks. Arms crossed, a slight scowl, "You sure?"

Echo just sighs, pats Hunter's back, and starts walking back toward town, "Good luck Sergeant."

"Echo! Are you sure!?"

×××××××××××××××

There's a bit of apprehension as Rea opens up the boat engine, "What the kriff did you guys do to my ship!? Race her!?" When no one meets her eyes, Rea huffs and seats herself near the engine, "Hunter, get my toolbox."

"I will assist with repairs, perhaps even streamline the fuel systems and-" one sharp look from Rea has Tech silenced, "Right. I will be over there with the others."

"Got your kit, need any help?" With Hunter, Rea's glare softens almost instantly, and when she nods, he sits himself down beside her to help, "what do you need?"

"Spanner wrench first," she near drops it when their fingers touch, but recovers quick enough to catch it before him, "Thanks Hunter."

About an hour of repairs passes, Rea giving and taking tools from Hunter, who's been doing his own smaller repairs on the control panel. Fixing sticky switches, making sure the wires aren't fried, nothing Rea would bite his head off for. She's particular about fishing boat, they know that much. Lucky she lets them on at all.

"Hey Hun, pass me my driver?"

"Sure darling, here."

Rea sits up fast, her eyes wide, face a mix of shock, blush, and engine smudges, "What."

Hunter had frozen as well, trying to think of anything that could have been misheard as darling in the context. The longer they stand there in eye locked silence, the redder their faces become... until they hear the clinking of credits.

"How does that constitute a confession?" Tech mutters as he pays out to Wrecker, Echo, Crosshair, and Omega, "He called her darling, how is that a confession but nothing else has been? Further, how are we so sure this wasn't on purpose?"

Wrecker chuckles, slaps Tech on the back, and calls over, "HEY HUNTA! DID YOU MEAN TO CALL HER THAT!?" The look on Hunter's face only serves to make Wrecker laugh harder, "Told ya! They had accident written all over em!"

"Hang on were you betting on us!?" Hunter takes one step off the ship, his face in a snarl, "Explain, now!"

Omega steps forward, her eyes apologetic, her smile, anything but, "It wasn't to be mean! Promise! You and Rea just... I mean, come on, Hunter! We've been here for months, and you didn't tell her you love her until now?! How could we not bet! Even Echo's playing, and he wasn't here most of it!"

Echo shrugs, a very satisfied smile on his face, "I told you she likes you."

"Hunter..." in his sudden burst of anger, he'd forgotten for a moment that Rea was standing right behind him.

As he turns around, he tunes into her again. Slightly elevated body temperature, quickened heart beat, her scent anxiety forward. "Rea... look, I know this makes things... different, but-"

Two quick steps was all it took to close the gap between them. Rea takes Hunter's jaw in her hands and stands up tall on her tip toes. She pulls them together and presses her lips to Hunter's. His hands go to her waist, holding her close as he returns the needy kiss.

"Kriff, just have sex already." Crosshair snipes with a chuckle, making Hunter and Rea snap back to reality.

"Crosshair!!" Their outburst only serves to make the others laugh.

×××××××××××××

Tag list: @anxiouspineapple99 @wolffegirlsunite @wizardofrozz @eclec-tech @dystopicjumpsuit @clonethirstingisreal @wings-and-beskar @sunshinesdaydream @multi-fan-dom-madness @starrylothcat @n0vqni @sev-on-kamino @mythical-illustrator @523rdrebel @littlemissmanga

#from the archivist #star wars #sw fic #the bad batch #tbb #sw tbb #sergeant hunter #sergeant hunter x reader #tbb hunter #hunter tbb #hunter x reader #clone x reader

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