#if i was thin I bet a younger man would have wanted me by now

[choking-on-roses]

.

[neopuppy]

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.’

[vodika-vibes]

Hi!!! I was wondering if you could write a steamy imperial tech x rebel fem reader? If that’s ok with you. I really love your writing! ❤️

Simple Chemistry

Summary: You and Tech have been playing a game of cat and mouse for what seems like months. It was only a matter of time before things came to a head.

Pairing: Imperial! Tech x Rebel F!Reader

Word Count: 1668

Warnings: Some smut

Tagging: @trixie2023 @n0vqni

A/N: So. This is based in an AU type setting where Crosshair's chip never activated, but the rest of the Batchers did. So Crosshair was raising Omega alone, and they ended up joining the Rebellion because it's just him. I hope this is close to what you wanted!

“Well, well, well,” A small grin plays on your painted lips as you saunter over to the tall man leaning against the wall, “Look at what the tooka dragged in. I never expected to see you, of all people, in a place like this.”

This was a club.

One of your favorite clubs, for that matter. With dimmed lights interspersed with blinding strobe lights of different colors and loud, thrumming music that you can feel down to your bones.

This is a regular haunt of yours. You’ve recruited more than one young, hot-blooded young person for the Rebellion here. And you have no intention of stopping.

Even if the Empire found it.

Of course, Tech isn’t dressed like an Imp right now. Clever, he never would have been allowed in if he had been wearing the stark gray uniform of the Imperial Army. 

His dark eyes remain locked on your face, and your smile doesn’t waver.

“Well?” You prod as you lean into his personal space, “What brings you to my domain, darling?”

“I am not your darling.” Tech finally says, his lips twisting as he says the pet name that you bequeathed to him months ago.

“So you keep claiming, darling. And yet, you’re here. And you haven’t taken your eyes off me since I got here.” Your voice is light and conversational as if you’re not talking to someone who’s been hunting you for months.

This isn’t the first time you and Tech have met face to face. You’re both very talented at what you do, and you’ve been playing a game of cat and mouse with him, leading him on a wild chase across the galaxy…leading him away from the other rebels.

He almost caught you several months ago, but you managed to escape with the timely assistance of his own twin brother and younger sister. Though, you’re willing to bet that Tech doesn’t know that.

His eyes narrow at you, “I should take you in for questioning.” He says curtly.

“Oh? For what?”

“You are a member of the Rebel Alliance.” He snaps, his eyes flashing, “And you are a criminal.”

You laugh, “Prove it.”

He scowls at you, “I do not have to prove it.”

“Aww, sweetling,” You splay your hand on his chest, and you feel his breathing stutter, “We both know that the word of a clone is next to worthless to the Imps.”

He stiffens, and glowers at you. Likely because he knows you’re right. 

You grin at him, and hook your fingers in the material of his blacks, “Let’s dance, darling.”

“I did not come here to dance.” Tech says, “I came to arrest you.”

“Oh? That’s too bad. Because I came here to dance. And if you won’t dance with me, I’m sure I can find someone to keep me company.” You say lightly as you turn away from him and scan the crowd for someone else to keep you company.

A strong hand wraps around your thin wrist, and you glance at Tech over your shoulder. It would be so easy for him to hurt you, he’s so much stronger than you are, but his touch is gentle.

“Changed your mind, have you?” You ask with a sly smile.

“I am not letting you out of my sight.” Tech says.

“Lovely!” You twist your wrist and take his hand, pulling him onto the crowded dance floor, and then you press your body against his, your arms sliding around his neck. “There,” You say, your lips brushing against his ear, “Isn’t this better.”

He’s tense against you, but slowly his hands settle on your waist.

You grin at him and you lazily start to move against him, and his grip tightens on your waist. 

“Relax, darling.” You coo against his ear, “It’s just dancing.”

Slowly, very slowly, the tension drains out of his body, as he starts dancing with you. And even more slowly, one of his hands slides down until it’s resting against your ass and his other hand slides up to rest on the back of your neck.

It’s a very possessive hold, and you can’t help but wonder if he realizes he’s doing it.

Not that you mind one way or the other. If you had a problem with being felt up by the man you’re pressed against, you wouldn’t have dragged him to the dance floor.

You consider him for a moment. It’s going to be a bitch to extricate yourself from him at the end of the night, you know. And if you want to be smart, you’d put an end to this now.

But if you were smart, you wouldn’t have become a Rebel in the first place.

Lazily, almost carelessly, you press your lips below his ear in a light kiss. And Tech curses, a low groan falling from his lips. 

Score. One point for the Rebel Scum.

You grin against his skin at his reaction and lightly nibble on the same spot.

This time his groan is a little louder and his hips jerk against yours. 

“Ooh, you like that then,” You murmur in his ear.

Tellingly, Tech doesn’t reply to you, but you didn’t expect him to, not really.

“That’s okay,” You whisper soothingly, “It’s a very normal reaction, Tech. No judgment. And no teasing. Not from me.”

He doesn’t react for a moment, but then his grip tightens. His fingers bite into the skin on the back of your neck and of your ass, and you know you’ll have bruises. 

Tech pulls you back slightly, his gaze dark as he scans your face, and then there’s a flash of something soft, gone so quickly that you think you must have imagined it. 

Then his lips are on yours. 

The kiss is hot and desperate, as if he’s trying to replace everything that you are with himself.

He’s a surprisingly good kisser, his teeth and tongue working in unison to leave you breathless and clinging to him. 

Even with all of that, you’re surprised when he tugs you off of the dance floor and down a narrow hall. And you’re even more surprised when he leads you into a small storage room, and he locks the door behind him with a rough hit of the door panel.

And then you’re pressed against the door, surprisingly gently, and his lips are against yours again. His hands, rough and calloused, dip under the hem of your shirt, and drag against your stomach pleasantly. 

“Not in here to kill me, I take it?” You breathe against his lips.

“Annoying.” Tech replies, as he grips the hem of your shirt and pulls it over your head, and then he pauses, his gaze lingering on your bare breasts. “...you are not wearing a bra.”

“Nope.” He blinks at you, adorably flustered, and you grin, “I’m not wearing underwear either.”

A myriad of emotions cross his face, “Why?”

“Why am I not wearing any undergarments?” You ask, “Because I came here to get laid, Tech.”

The emotions finally settle on stark jealousy, “Did you?”

You laugh, your head falling back against the door, “Oh, darling, I’m in a locked storage room, half naked, with you. You silly, jealous man.”

He looks slightly sheepish for a moment, and then he glances at the miniskirt you’re wearing, “How often do you go bare-?”

“More often than not.” You say with a shrug.

Tech stares at you for a long moment, and then he releases a curse in another language, and crashes his lips against yours again, his hands burning a path across your breasts, and over your ribs, “I want you.” He gasps against your lips, “Need you.”

“You have me, Tech.” You whisper as you slide your hands under his shirt, tracing his muscles eagerly, “I’m right here.”

He fumbles with your skirt for a moment, before just shoving it up and out of the way. His long fingers slide across your thighs, taking his time to memorize the feel of your skin against him.

“Come back to the Empire with me,” He breathes as he slides his fingers a little further up your thigh, “I will protect you. No one will hurt you-” He’s pleading with you, half begging you, and you smile at him gently.

“No.” You pull him into a deep kiss as his fingers lightly glide across your clit and you release a gasping moan, before you control yourself again. He needs to hear this. “All it takes for the triumph of evil is for good men to do nothing,” You shudder as he eases his finger inside you and curls it, “Kriff, Tech-”

“You will not be safe.” Tech whispers, “Let me protect you.”

“No.” You repeat, through breathless moans, and you press your hands against his cheeks, “Freedom is worth fighting for.”

He closes his eyes and presses his forehead against yours, “I want you to be mine.”

“I will not sacrifice my freedom for safety.”

He crashes his lips against yours, his tongue sliding against yours, and he slides his fingers out of you, pulling a whine from your throat. 

Tech tugs you away from the door and sits you on a crate, settling himself between your thighs, “Was only a matter of time,” He mutters against your lips.

“What was?” You gasp out the words as he trails his fingers over your bare body. 

“This. Us.”

You laugh breathlessly, “Too much chemistry?”

“Something like that.” He agrees, and he flashes you a slightly lopsided smile, before he kisses you again. 

And, for now, you lose yourself in him. In his lips and his touch. It’ll be twice as hard to pull yourself from him after this, he’ll hunt you to the ends of the galaxy.

But you have a pretty good feeling that, given enough time, you can get Tech to flip.

That’s a problem for later. For now, you have an attractive man wholly dedicated to bringing you pleasure, and that’s more important than anything to you.

[polluxhale]

“Maybe it’s for the best? Never understood why she’d be so attached to that ugly mug anyways.” Pollux smirked over at his friend, clearly joking. Given their somewhat steamy history, it was fairly obvious that Pollux had never found the other man ugly. 

Xylaes rolled his eyes and took a drag from cigarette. “Maybe. She deserves bet–” Before he was able to finish that statement, Pollux had smacked the cigarette right out of his hand, “The fuck, Hale?”

“Don’t say that. You are a good person who has made some dumb mistakes that anyone probably would have made in your position. But for those that know the truth, and that truly know you, know you did the right thing. And those in charged fucked you for it because they didn’t want their own bullshit to get out in the open and cause a scandal. Light fucking forbid.” Clearly this was a topic Pollux was very passionate about. Xylaes had been his friend and his brother in arms for much of their younger lives, and at one point prior to the explosion that nearly took Pollux’s life, the two were almost inseparable. 

Xylaes leaned over to pick up his cigarette and relented that train of thought with a hand raised in surrender. “It’s been messy for a long time, neither of us have treated the other particularly well at times. Maybe now that she’s no longer in the position she was in, maybe it could be different. But I just…I can’t be there for her during this transition. Wouldn’t be good for either of us given the current circumstances.”

Pollux gave his friend a warm smile, nodding in understanding. While the two didn’t spend as much time together as they used to, they had become confidantes once more. “Maybe after your own transition hmm? As great as I’m sure you are at screwing strangers for the Red Moon, there’s plenty of opportunities to be using your other skill sets. Not just when there’s a war going on.”

“You know I’ve lost a good chunk of those skill sets…” Referring specifically to the arcane abilities he used to possess prior to having them ripped away from him as a part of his prison sentence.

Pollux reached out to give the other man’s left arm a hard pinch. Xylaes slightly recoiled at the action, but the duo watched as the invisible runes on that replanted arm shimmer to life. “But you have also gained some new ones, and some you’ve likely not even figured out yet.”

It was in Maldraxxus that Xylaes had found himself a subject of The House of Construct’s disturbing experiments. His included having his entire arm removed and replanted with that of someone who apparently had been a caster of some variety. Much was still left to mystery, but during the past campaign, he was able to produce various sorts of magic when he found himself in danger. There was a lot of promise there and still much to be explored, if he could ever get over the fact that this arm, even though he controlled it, was technically not his own.

“So anyways, that guy I was talking to you about, that possibly has a job...” Pollux continued, looking a touch trepidatious. “He is looking for people that have fallen off the grid and know how to stay off of it pretty damn well. I mentioned that you are excellent at finding those types of people, and that wasn’t just because of your magic. That’s the job, finding people, and he’ll pay extremely well under the table. You can keep up with the Moon, but this is, well, this is right up your alley, Xy. That’s all the details I can give you though, the rest is up to the two of you to iron out and discuss should he choose to hire you and should you choose to work this gig.”

Xylaes pressed his lips into a thin line, leaning back in his chair as he silently considered. “You trust him?”

Pollux squinted at that. Tough question. “...I…trust him not to fuck me over, which I feel would also extend to you given he knows you’re my friend and that I trust you.”

Being paid under the table meant that this was likely not very legal, or needed to be hush hush. Being paid under the table in order to find people also typically meant that these people would never be seen again once found. That had been a part of his gig in the military, but the targets were never your everyday Joe Schmo’s, they were people that proved to be a threat to the greater good and thus needed to be eliminated. At least that’s what they were told. Maybe that was the case here as well.

There was only one way to find out. It’s not as if there were oodles of opportunities out there for ex-cons like him, he had to take what he could get and working as an escort at a brothel just wasn’t cutting it anymore. “Yeah, I’ll talk to him. No harm in just seeing what it’s all about, right?”

Pollux tapped out a quick message on his comm and soon after came a knock on the door. He jumped out of the chair to answer it, cracking the door open and exchanging a few hushed words before allowing the third man inside. 

“Xylaes, I want you to finally meet my twin brother, Ouro.”

@xylaes @fio-renze @ouroandar

[arosesstorm]

untied spell | Alec Lightwood 

words count: idk sorry

gender neutral reader! x Alec Lightwood

warning: angst, my fav

summary: the nigh of Max's party at Bane's, a truth was revealed, a painful one, yours

English is not my first language loves, trying my best, enjoy :)

"dear, so glad you came" Magnus welcomed you inside the house, his sharp eyes the first thing that reminded you you were in trap.

"how could I not come, after all, it is Max's party" a sigh escaping your lips as Magnus closed the door behind your back.

"here" he handed you a drink, his mouth close to your ear "I know you and Alexander aren't in the best of terms now but I beg of you let's enjoy the evening"

a light of amusement crossed your face "what the high warlock of Brooklyn says.." a gulp as the drink slide into your throat.

as Magnus looked at you make your way into the living room he couldn't help but sigh "this is going to be a disaster".

as soon as your eyes met Izzies a calming wave washed over your body "so glad I found you" you admitted as soon as the dark haired reached for your arm to interlock with hers.

"So glad you found the right member of the Lightwood family you mean"

you couldn't help but glare as she put her hands up in surrender "alright, got it, I'm sorry".

finding out you were not the only Herondale left was one thing, discovering your younger brother was Jace Wayland was a total different matter.

you would have be the happiest to hear the news if not only the closest friend you had didn't hide it from you.

"for your own good" Alec had said, but it just made you want to throw up.

"you don't have a clue on what's good for me" you had replied the night you had found out.

safe to say, you avoided the man since.

you and Izzy went for the bar, ordering the strongest they had with only a thought in mind, the time of your departure.

"why hasn't Max still arrived?"

"Alec was meant to take him but he's running late"

"as usual" you felt the need to add, as you sipped from your second drink, it was strong.

when you turned to the door again you saw him, his place steady, his eyes hard, all that gloomy act and Alec was still Alec, a ferocious dog without teeth.

"let's go great Max" Isabelle dragged you toward the small circle as you looked at everyone but him.

"my little hunter!" exclaimed the girl hugging the boy thigh as you smiled down at him "guess you'll be my next right arm huh?" you joked ruffling his hair.

"you bet since everyone seems to die when they get close to you" your head shot in Alec's direction, your eyes as thin as those of a fox "what did you just say?"

the man shook his head, looking around for support, "what do you mean?" he asked.

you were about to bark back when Magnus stood between you two, his voice louder "ah! it is a great party, let's leave the celebrated to it".

eyes glaring while you sighed hard, "need another drink".

the rest of the evening went down better than expected, Alec seemed to respect your boundaries, in fact, you were able to avoid him for most of the night.

it wasn't until you saw Clary shot for the bar on the left that something just switched.

"i have to go" you told a tipsy Isabelle as you left the couches, your steps taking you to the terrace when you noticed a door slightly open, someone laying on the floor.

your feet stopped as you regained consciousness, what was going on?

only when you made your way inside the room you spotted a terrified Jace on the right.

"Jace! what is going on?" you asked reaching for who you had recognized was Maryse Lightwood laying unconscious on the floor.

"she tried to kill me!" he spoke, his voice harsh yet panicked, "Maryse?" you asked, too unlikely to be true.

"yes!" he half screamed as he approached you, his eyes wet with tears and his jaw hard.

he was in pain and it pained you too.

your brother, was in pain, your brother, was in pain.

you didn't know how you arrived to that conclusion but suddenly, as bright as day, the culprit's name flashed before your eyes.

Alec.

Alec was the reason your brother was in pain, the reason you yourself were.

you marched out of the room, a surprised Isabelle crossing your path as she got in.

"y/n!" she called for you, but it was late now, you were already half way to the terrace when you spot him.

Lost gaze as he was stearing at the night sky, his back facing you.

he felt someone approaching and was quick to turn around: "y/n.." he had the time to say before you pushed him backwords, hands searching for the daggers behind your back.

"y/n!" he screamed now, his eyes blank as he was glaring at you.

"hiding my brother for me is a thing, but hurting him?" you half screamed, daggers now in view.

then, the unexpected happened, his lips lift into a dark smile as he chuckled "what am I? the bane of your existence?" he laughed.

you were taken aback, losing your steadiness as you stumbled back, his body swinging forward as he took the daggers out of your hands, hitting the ground hard.

"what is going on with you?" Alec asked but you couldn't help but hear "Just say it, we both know what your problem is".

your heart roared as you jumped on him, fist swinging, as he tried to block you as best as he could.

"you know nothing about me!" you screamed.

"I do, I always did" he spoke, as you fell on the concrete, his body steadying you as he positioned himself above you.

"you are not mad at me because I've hidden Jace is your brother, you are mad because you are a worthless piece of shit, the weak of the family and the soft hearted", your hands burning as you were trying to get free, "all this time and you were just trying to run away from your feeling, from your feelings for m-"

"no!" you screamed as your feet kicked him on the back, the boy crawling to the floor.

you looked like an animal, a beast as you jumped to Alec's lap, your fist white as you aimed for his face.

"you have to stay away from me!" you screamed, gatting the dagger from the ground as you pressed it to Alec's throat.

your eyes watery as ho looked at you sympathetically.

"y/n!" you heard a voice as you suddenly snapped out of it.

your hands trembling as you throw the dagger away, looking at Alec on the ground, his eyes soft, in pain.

"I'm sorry" you mumbled, quickly getting on your feet again.

Magnus rushed forward as he touched your shoulder softly, "I'm sorry he was-", "he was saying things I-", "I'm sorry".

you felt like throwing up.

"Alec!" Maryse rushed forward, kneeling on the ground, "what happened?"

"I'm fine" he breathed, his eyes glued to his opponent's face.

"y/n" the boy spoke, getting on his feet "are you alright?".

"have you all lost your minds?" Maryse barked, shooting for Jace who was now standing behind you and Magnus.

"you almost killed me!"

"do you all hear what she is saying to me?"

"Jace" Clary touched the man's shoulder as Simon entered the room.

"what is wrong?" he asked, "Maia is by the bar if you are wondering" Clary blunted stern.

"something's wrong" you heard Magnus whisper as he left your side, making his way inside the apartment.

"don't you ever spoke to me again" you stated with gritted teeth, eyes wet with tears as Alec looked at you with that same very eyes.

"don't be ridiculous" he answered.

you turned your back as you left the crowd, your brother trying to reach you but failing.

you had just touched the door's knob as Alec held your arm forcing you to turn around.

"reason with me" he pleaded "let's be logical".

"I can't!" you answered with a ferocity that broke the man's heart.

"you know why" a string seemed to unlace inside your head and your vision cleared again, but it didn't change the fact that it was obvious now, at least to you.

"y/n" he breathed.

"we know why" and you left the room praying for the night to end painlessly.

part 2?

masterlist

mia

© 2023 of Mia (arosesstorm). All Rights Reserved.

[phenomenal1500]

Toxic Love | Erik Killmonger

Chapter 5: ~Don't Go Out Looking Like That~

For Chapter 4: ~Little Minx~ click here.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"You better go look for some lingerie too~" The man casually appeared behind her again and reached around her body to grab a red apple.

~~~

She watched him from over her shoulder and twisted around on her barstool to face him.

'Wrong move', she thought as her body began to urge for him, wanting to reach out, touch him, hold him, whatever to stop the need for contact.

Luckily, She managed to keep her hands restrained just in time though and pulled her gaze away from him. She would've loved to get close to him now he was in his human form again, but her mind kept wandering back to what he had said, talking about her being too worn out for him or some shit. That it could kill her too if he wasn't careful with her, so keeping her distant for a bit longer felt like a smart call to her.

"Why? Can't you just imagine it and snap it on me in my dreams?" She shrugged cluelessly and watched the man take a large bite out of the red apple. "I bet you're that powerful."

"I like it more when you're awake and I can rip it off of you for real~." He growled and grabbed her throat in a delicious manner. "And if you think that's power, oh girl, I have some surprises for you."

"I think I'm a little done with surprises and all." She grabbed his wrist when he started to squeeze her throat gently, fighting to give in. "Why don't you just start telling me who you really are?" Her lower back was painfully pressing into the counter and he noticed the discomfort, letting go again. "That's something I would like to know."

"Where's the fun in that, little mama~?" He simply shrugged and raised his brow in a challenging, playful way as he took another big bite out of the apple. He only did so to flash his fangs to her and she would shut up about it.

"Never mind." She sighed and took a long sip from her bottle of water. "I don't even care, just please don't show up at my shopping spree and ruin it though." She carefully pressed the cold bottle gently against her neck to ease the burning feeling he somehow had left behind on her skin.

"I can't promise that, ma." He stroked a piece of her curly hair out of her face. "I can't stay away from my women for too long, especially if they're special to me."

"It's the fact you're not human that makes you less of a creep, you know that? If you were a normal man talking to me like this I would've punched you in the face by now."

"Hell~ I love the attitude you've gotten ever since I took control, girl." He smirked and finished the apple, not minding what she had said to him one bit.

"Are you even listening to what I'm saying?" She rolled her eyes and the man simply hummed in response, holding her hips tightly as he looked her over one more time before he vanished in thin air again.

"Who were you talking to?" One of the younger maidens made her way to the kitchen, smiling sweetly as usual.

If Delaney had to pick a favorite maiden it would've definitely been Kamari.

Kamari was the youngest of the four maidens and closest to Delaney's age so they naturally already clicked better than the older women, but what made them click the most was their similar fashion sense. Kam and Delaney loved helping each other out with their fashion and looks and together they always did some extreme online shopping whenever her father didn't pay any attention.

"Reyna." She held up her phone casually. "I'm going shopping on my own for once."

"Really?!" She giggled and made small jumps of excitement. "Can I come?"

"Yeah, of course." Delaney smiled too and put her phone flat down on the marble counter again. "The chauffeur will be here in 30 minutes, is that enough time for you to change?" She knew it was for herself, but she wanted to give Kamari some time too and she didn't mind delaying the chauffeur.

"Yeah, that's enough." She nodded happily and rushed upstairs just as fast as she had showed up, really wanting to go shopping with the girls alone for once.

Online shopping was becoming boring and shopping with guards all over the place restricted them from actually buying what they wanted so she was so excited for this day out.

It took Kamari exactly 28 minutes to have her outfit styled and on, soft make-up look done and her straight black hair in a bun. She looked cute in her baby pink tennis skirt and her matching butterfly top, matching pink shoes and lipstick as well to finish the look too.

"Look at you." Delaney smiled.

She always loved her soft pink cotton aesthetic, it really complimented her skin.

"Yeah? Looks okay?"

"Looks fantastic." She laughed. "Now I feel underdressed."

You're not underdressed, mama~.

"Underdressed~? Girl, you look like a fucking queen each time. All you need is a king now~." She smirked a bit, pointing at the white miniskirt with a baby blue crossover halter top that Delaney was wearing. "Why don't we go out after our shopping spree? You're already dressed for a fun night out."

"If Reyna is up for that too, we might." She hummed and smiled, grabbing her blue clutch and holding it to her side. "Ready to go?"

"Ready." Kamari smiled too and followed her into the shining black limousine waiting for them.

It didn't take long for them to reach the stores with the three of them and succeed in picking some new outfits for their already overflowing closet, but when they got to the lingerie shopping which Delaney insisted on, things felt weird to her.

It was as if someone was watching her without actually being there.

Like someone was right behind her breathing into her neck without there actually being any air brushing against her skin.

"Seriously?" She whispered to herself as she checked her body out in the big mirror, already knowing he was there with her. She was trying out the bra of a Bordeaux red lingerie set, leaving the panties to guessing the right size. The bra hugged her breasts and sides perfectly though, but she was still hesitant about buying it. "Ya know what? I don't even mind. Can you help?"

Help? I thought mama didn't want me to show up and ruin her little shopping spree~?

"I know, but since you're already watching anyway, I need some help." She sighed and noticed him appear from the shadows, casually leaning against the wall of the fitting room.

"Help with choosing, aye~?" He smirked and checked her out again, licking his lips. "If it's for me, take it. If it's for some small dick you plan on fucking tonight, don't you dare go out wearing that."

"Would it make you jealous if I did?" She teased softly.

"More than just jealous, kitten. Don't try me." He warned, noticing the mischievous grin appear on her gorgeous face.

"What happens if I do?" She bit her lip and folded her hands behind her back in a cute way, looking up to him innocently.

"Then I won't let you walk around on this earth anymore and that would be a shame. You're too gorgeous to take you down with me."

"Down? You mean Hell?" Her innocent eyes grew wide and she took a step back.

He didn't answer however, all he did was stare at her with a dominant glare. He knew that if he answered, she would start trying to figure out what he was by herself and he knew she would probably succeed in that too. The lead was too big to give away.

"It's up for interpretation, ma." He shrugged and winked at her, trying to ease the bad feeling that formed in her stomach. He didn't need her scared. "Down can mean a lot of things. It's many places."

"Shut it, you're from hell." She stopped him from approaching her, but he gently reached out to her and grabbed her wrist. "I knew it.... you're a demon."

"I'm not." He growled in her ear. "Now relax. Your heart is dangerously speeding up and we don't want it to stop now do we?"

"Is that a threat?" She tried to push him away, but he didn't move an inch.

"It's the truth. I won't harm you, I like you too much for that, just calm down. " He managed to calm her down a little bit by lowering her heart, but he could still feel the slight fear.

"You promise...?" She looked up at him.

"I promise, you're safe with me." He stroked her hair back like he normally did.

"Can you come with me tonight...?" She mumbled.

"Hm? Going out with you? Tonight?" He was a bit surprised, staring down at the woman that not a minute ago was almost having a heart attack by how fast her heart went.

"Show me you can be human.... Just for a night."

"I think I can try that, mama." He hummed, not remembering the last time he really went out there into the real world as a 'human' longer than a few minutes.

[aquadestinyswriting]

Hello hello and happy STS (and late blorbo blursday)! If you don't mind, please classify your OCs according to the following: bimbo, mean bisexual, even meaner lesbian, she/they, he/they, token straight that's on thin ice, astrology bitch who has everyone's birth chart memorized, short king. Bonus points if you can explain why for each. :D  (You are free to leave out any that do not apply to your OCs' friend group.)

Happy belated sts to you Jax, thank you for the question. I', sorry it took so long to respond, this was one I had to think about quite a bit before I could answer it. Under a readmore because there's a lot of categories and I have a bit to say about each one. I suspect you're going after the vibes more than the actual literal interpretation here, but some may be more literal than others.

Bimbo: I think the closest is maybe Kidri Toroksdottir, a character that will be showing up in The Trouble with Meredith series as one of Merri's younger friends. It's not that she's not intelligent, but she is lacking in the general common sense department.

Mean Bisexual: That'll be Thaddeus Darkhide by a mile. He's super snarky and 'tells it like it is' a lot. I think he's one of three wizard's tower characters who doesn't have unresolved trauma, so that bitchiness is all him just being an asshole. He is also canonically Bi, it just hasn't come up yet.

Even Meaner Lesbian: Since we're going with the vibes here, I'm electing Reginald Schreiber this particular title. His pettiness rivals the meanest of mean girls and it's not just that he's petty and mean; he is particularly underhanded about it. The man is all sweet smiles and pleasantries, while he viciously stabs you in the back with his words.

She/They: While I'd love to put Dwena here, this one has to go to the canonical, gender non-conforming from conception npc, Cece Lamore. Cece is one of those characters who was in the campaign and will only show up in my writing if she becomes relevant, but she fits this one so well I couldn't leave her out. While Cece is most likely a transwoman (the DM who created them wasn't very clear on the matter), I don't think they'd mind the gender neutral pronouns so much because they would probably take on a male identity if necessary to avoid the authorities who are currently on the hunt for them. Cece is one of those characters we loved to hate though and she was so much fun when she did show up.

He/They: I'm gonna go with Thazaar for this one. While he does use male pronouns for the sake of convenience while he's on the material plane, I reckon Thazaar is probably more agender than anything. If anyone wants to refer to him as anything else, he honestly won't mind. When Thazaar visits his grandfather and that side of the family though, he does present very differently because Celestials don't really care about the gender norms of the material plane.

Token Straight on Thin Ice: That'd be Laurence Tate, my husband's character. He's funny, helpful and kind, but honestly a bit of of an arrogant sod. He's on really thin ice for a bunch of different reasons that I won't go into because then this bit would be eight paragraphs long. And, yeah, I know for a fact that he is definitely straight.

astrology bitch who has everyone's birth chart memorized: This one's purely on the vibes (because I'm not sure he believes in Astrology); Snotgrut. Now, hear me out, Snotgrut loves information, especially if that information pertains to the people he hangs around with. It's his way of figuring out how to interact with the people he cares about. This is a goblin who will 'put-pocket' magic rings in peoples' pockets to keep an eye on them via scrying and usually doesn't tell anyone he's done it. I get the feeling (and I'll check with his original player) that he has full dossiers on everyone just so he doesn't get blindsided by seemingly random outbursts of emotion. If was into astrology, you bet he'd have full charts for every last one of his found family, would memorise them all and then use them to work out why, for example, someone's so pissy about something innocuous.

Short King: This one has to go to Felix. I'm sorry, but that little gnomish fellow just wins at being a decent man. He's not perfect, he does suffer from foot in mouth disease a lot and is very self-deprecating, but he's about as close as we're gonna get. He is Elowyn's first cheerleader, is kind, empathetic, stands up for what he believes in and will do anything to make sure the people he loves are happy and safe. He used his only Greater Wish spell, a gift given to him by the Gods to help in the final, climactic battle of the campaign, to make sure Meredith got to have her happy ending when she didn't even know if she'd just been made a widow not even a two months after she got married. I still get teary-eyed every time I think about that.

[crazyk-imagine]

Don’t Turn Around Like That

                                              * Deleted Scene *

For Chapter III: Locked and Loaded

One Shot Master List

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Oh, Jesus,” she turns around to see Benny pushing the gun away from his face. “Hey, Frankie?” 

“Yeah?” He doesn’t look, examining the gun (and also, too scared to look at her). He knows he fucked up and almost fucked up bad. 

“You mind not turning around like that. What would have happened if you twitched, and your finger was on the trigger? What then, huh?” Seraphina takes a step forward. 

Benny places his hand in front of her, preventing her from getting anywhere closer to her best bud. 

“You know I wasn’t thinking-” 

“Exactly, you weren’t thinking.” 

“Hey, I owned up to my mistake. At least, I didn’t leave.” 

Her brows rise in surprise, she thins her lips. ‘Guess this wasn’t going to be as easy as Tago hoped. Fucking liar.’ She swallows the little amount of spit in her mouth, blinking at her friend once. “Glad to see you’re honest.” 

Frankie grumbles to himself, “fuck.” He looks up, “Ser, I didn’t mean-” 

She shakes her head, lifting her hand, “no, no. I get it. I left, hardly said a word to any of you before even though I did send a few things here and there. I get it,” she lets out an airy chuckle, “I just wish I would have known this was how you all felt before I came here.” 

She turns away from the two, looking back at the table with various weapons. She tries not to think about how much it hurt for her to leave and how much she wanted to come back but, honestly, she was just too scared. She didn’t want someone else to get hurt or anything like that but- she lets out a slow, deep breath. 

She never expected Frankie to be the one to call her out. But then again, she shouldn’t be surprised, it’s the quiet ones you always gotta watch out for, right? 

Frankie sets the gun down, taking a step towards her. Someone stops him. He turns to find the younger Miller standing there with his hand on his chest. 

Benny shakes his head. 

Frankie opens his mouth to say something but, stops when he sees his friend shaking his head. Benny leans forward, “I’ll talk to her.” 

“No, I should-” 

“I got it. Let me do this.” It could have something to do with the way the young man said what he did… or maybe Frankie just feels bad for him more because this is the woman he’s been in love with since- well, ever since he met her. 

Frankie nods, heading over to where Will is. 

Benny makes his way over to her, ignoring the way the two older men are “secretly” observing them. God, what Benny would do to have something he could throw at the- 

“You don’t need to say anything or try to diffuse the situation, alright?” 

“Who says I’m trying to diffuse anything?” Benny leans against the table with his butt resting against the edge, if he turns his back will be to his brother and Frankie. He asks with light, joking tone. 

“You mean besides the fact that you’re standing here… beside me… talking to me, nothing.” 

“Who knew you were full of jokes?” 

She shakes her head, chuckling through her nose, “trust me, I’m not.” 

“I’ll let you in on a little secret,” he bends down a little (so you know who one and two don’t hear). “I happen to think you’re the funniest person here.” 

She lightly scoffs, “you clearly haven’t heard Tago when he’s had five shots of whiskey, two rum and cokes, and three beers.” 

The corner of his lips tugs upwards, “oh, shit. That’s right. How’d you get him to do that, again?” 

“A bet.” 

“Yeah, yeah,” his lips curl into an affectionate smile as he thinks about that night, remembering how happy she looked when she won. He turns around, checking out the small weapons in this grate before he moves on to the bigger and slightly deadlier stuff. “I’m glad you’re back.” 

“You might be the only one.” 

He shakes his head, “I wouldn’t be too sure about that. I know for a fact, the others did too… all of them.” 

She freezes, sneaking a glance at him from the corner of her eye. Seraphina feels a bit different. 

Now, that she thinks about it, her stomach doesn’t seem to be spinning around out of control anymore- at least, not in a bad “my anxiety is acting up” type of way. It’s more like a “I have a little bit more clarity and the guy I’ve got strong feelings for made me feel better”. She doesn’t regret coming back now. 

‘Maybe I won’t kick Tago’s ass.’ Seraphina continues to stand beside Benny, reaching for one of the smaller guns, she finds is easier to hide. 

Benny notices and hands it her. She says her thanks after their hands touch, leaving both of their hearts to beat a little faster. 

Will inwardly rolls his eyes.

[mydiaryx]

wed 16th nov

Not feeling good today, really not good. Anxiety is so high, like higher than its been in forever, is it just bc of my nose piercing? And the fact that im so behind with work, stressing me big time. If I just get over it tho it will be fine. Also I hate how im spending money, like ill literally have none soon. Scary, im not gonna get much from urban either. Need to charge up may Mac too. I don’t feel like going home. Kind of like oh are they gonna ask me about young lean too lol. Bet my dad will make fun. Ill just make up something like oh like George got guest list lol. Why do I even care. Im really letting it effect me.

So tempted to have that val. but feel like I should have it the morning of the presentational, lmao. Kill me, I should talk about my issues maybe ! Im in absolute just like want to shut down and die. I cant deal , deffo need a drink big time, I wanna talk to tara but its difficult over the thingy lol. Ill stay here for a bit and get to 100 then ill go down. And then ill actually start doing my work. I should definitely have a tutorial for sourcing, even if it is really scary. Also I do actually need to file my nails a bit im already finding it hard to type. Friction hell !! At least I can paint them properly now, feel like I should check critical path too. That’s so weird they just said critical path at the same time lol. Anyways, like if I sleep at home ill wake up early tmo, then ill feel much better, ill be able to stay in uni literally until I go to pole. I do feel afwul tho, like I can’t believe I didn’t send eden any of that shite !! I hope she don’t mind. I would really love to see her ! I just really need some more fucking valium man. Fucks sake I miss having no anxiety. Its just got so bad now. I feel like I just need to throw myself into the deep end or something, I get that feeling like when I was younger, I just used to jump into a pool and stay under the water for ages. Like that’s all I could do. Its weirdly comforting, like the silence of nothing. At least later ill have like loads of H3 podcasts to watch, need to work out how im gonna get there and back too !!!

Don’t wanna be spending p really. Fucking annoying how I can’t get arriva click anymore. Suppose it was just like too unused. Lets see if I get invited to press. I hope so !! Would be nice. Can’t believe that was fucking 2 weeks ago. Like if I think about it I’ve actually hardly done any work since then. Like fucks sake !! Like I have been doing things just not like really properly. Anyway I need to focus on something today, either sourcing or design cult, or tbh could do a bit of FMP. But for deffo im saving COLLAB for tomorrow. That’s why I need to look at critical path ! I just really did not realise like how much going away would throw me off. I can’t believe how much work I have to do ! Damn. Also i. Hope that me working inn the week like next week won’t fuck me too much, but tbh I think it will big time !! Bc ill be spending the weekend with George. Oh well, look I just have to do what I have to do. I thin k most of my anxiety today is jut stemming from my parents seeing my nose piercing. And it literally does not matter at all, its not like im saying im pregnant, or like I’ve got some massive tattoo, just a little one lol, that ill keep secret for a while, until I just tell my mum one day lol. I can imagine what Skye just said hahahaha. Also wtf I really want some fucking food now agh, need to resist the temptation, and the temptation for coffee, although that is more tempting, and sort of like more allowed because it helps me I suppose. You know, once I start doing my work it really wont be that bad, I just need to actually start doing it. Like ill just fully start on my sourcing, and then ill do that until like a certain time, then ill go sit with the other guys for a bit, like when im fully charged, bc we can talk about later! Its cute tho that im invited now to things like this lol. Im not even sure who’s coming and who’s not, think it will be interesting… still not sure what ill wear, not sure what vibe to go for tbh, like could do like cute or slutty, like will my docs be like annoying and not slay. Hmm decisions, one thing I do know is that ill be wearing black, as always. Anyway I should start on my sourcing now. And like actually do it. And you know what ill have a chewing gum too, so I don’t want food lol. Slay slay slay all day bestie

. Bye love ya xx

[sunshineistyping]

What about the other Glam Rocks and sundrop and moondrop reacting to old SH scars?

A lot of you guys were asking for this so I chose this request to write it under!

Past SH Headcannons

Characters: G. Freddy, Roxanne, Sun, Moon

Warnings: Mentions of Self Harm, Self Harm Scars

———————————————————————

GLAMROCK FREDDY

He just cries and holds you, he is so soft dude he just- like- he wants to love you

He quite literally holds you like a baby he does not care about how you react. He wants to love on you until you pass out

Which isn’t hard actually, Freddy is surprisingly comforting despite him being made of metal

He’ll help you get comfortable showing your arms and such again by being your number one hype man

“You look absolutely stunning Darling, I love it.”

“You should wear things like this more, it’s made for you.”

“That color suits you very well, I think you should wear it more.”

He is the kind of guy who amps up the love and affection to one thousand just to make you feel happy. He loves seeing you confident in your body and who you are

If you’re uncomfortable showing your scars he’ll never ever force you! He’ll compliment you all the same

You could be wearing a trash bag and he’d still find a way to compliment you

Because it’s you

To him you always look good regardless of what you’re wearing or what marks you have

You’ve grown into such a beautiful person and he has no choice but to compliment your growth

Is the first to throw verbal hands with someone who insults your scars. I shit you not his composure breaks!

His eyes glare down, he straightens himself to full height, gently puts a hand on said persons shoulder and tilts his head

“Would you like to repeat that for me?”

If they do he doesn’t even say anything, he picks them up by the arm and THROWS them outside. Doesn’t care if they get injured. That’s on them for saying such things in a child friendly establishment

More like that’s on them for saying something rude to you but for legal reasons it’s the other one

He bans them from the building and if they try to get back in he’s authorized to use force

Need I say more?

———————————————————————

ROXANNE

I can’t begin to describe the way she gently pulls you into her chest and just holds you there. She doesn’t speak, doesn’t move, just holds you

She can understand the feelings you had, she’s been there

A lot of people think she’s a narcissist but the thing is, she’s really not. She’s insecure and afraid of letting others see her crack under pressure. She had to be her own support system before you came along

And then you loved her in a way she’s never felt, so now it’s her turn to love you

“You know you’re brave right? Look at you. You’re doing so good, I bet younger you would be so proud to see how far you’ve come.”

She lets you cry against her, let’s you mess up her hair when you run your hands through it. She’ll let you touch her hair as much as you want now

It could be a way to help you calm down and she’d really prefer for you to choose her hair over harming yourself

She even lets you braid it or touch her tail, Roxy is a massive softie who isn’t too much into PDA but gets very touchy when someone mentions your scars in a rude way

She has and will destroy anyone who even LOOKS at you wrong

“You got something to say? No? Then why are you looking at them like that? Exactly, you do have something to say. So we’re either gonna talk on the track or with fists. Got it?”

Will publicly embarrass the person and force them to apologize. Has made someone so scared that they paid you cash to forget what happened

Supports you through thick and thin without fail

Because she loves you, and she really doesn’t use that word lightly

———————————————————————

SUN

He acts off once you explain what your scars are from. He’s seen kids who had them and he knew what it meant he just didn’t expect to see them on you

After a few minutes of looking at them he’ll switch into a more quiet but still upbeat personality

He’ll cuddle you and draw little glitter glue doodles on your scars

Has and will make little designs that highlight your scars

He doesn’t want you to be ashamed of them, in fact he likes them

It shows him that you’re not the same person you were and he gets to meet a much healthier and happier you

“You don’t have to be nervous! There’s nothing to fear! You look really good!”

Makes you feel cute in any outfit you put on

If anyone talks bad about your scars when they’re a child he’ll reprimand them and explain why they shouldn’t do that

If they’re an adult he takes the metaphorical gloves off and makes them feel like absolute garbage without even truly insulting them

“I’d appreciate if you didn’t bother my coworker while on the job. They have much more important duties to attend too. If you’d like, I can handle any and all complaints you have. Please be aware that while my coworker is not authorized to use force to escort you out. I am. So choose your next words carefully as this is a child friendly establishment.”

Proceeds to then switch right back into a much happier tone.

“So what was it that you wanted to say?”

He can be awfully cruel when he needs to be, and he will as long as you feel safe

———————————————————————

MOON

He’s probably the best person to tell these things too, why? Well he doesn’t care about them and doesn’t make it a big deal

You’re not sure why but he always knows what to say and do to cheer you up or make you feel special

“You don’t have to suffer alone. You don’t have to be awful to yourself, because look at how much you’ve changed? It’s okay to forgive yourself. After all, the only person who has yet to forgive you is yourself. Be kind to the person you are now, you were still growing up back then.”

Will let you nap with him, or have long talks before you sleep

If you ask him to just talk to you about things he’s the sweetest thing in the world and will talk about all the things he enjoys about you

Is willing to listen to whatever you have to say about the scars, and if you don’t have anything to say he doesn’t mind

The best listener in the lineup, he prefers to hear you rant and let go of all that pain rather then speak

If he hears ANYTHING about someone insulting you he’s the first to ask if you want them to ‘disappear’

He has his ways of making it happen regardless if Sun is in control or not

He’s protective and extremely sweet, honestly I’m shocked he hasn’t just told you how much he loves you yet

———————————————————————

[rcksmith]

Distracted — Five Hargreeves

Requests: “shit, i forgot. I'm the one who asked for smut prompts #30, #31, #61 and #96. Could you write them for Five Hargreeves? Thank you! So sorry to spam you with the asks X-X”

Smut prompts :

30. “I’d hold on to something if I were you.”

31. “Pushing back against my fingers already? How pathetic.”

61. “what would people say if they knew you were such a slut for me?”

96. “I think you forgot to lock the door, that means anyone could walk right in and see you like this.”

Couple: Five Hargreeves /Fem! Reader.

Warnings: smut heavy, NSFW, dirty talk, swearing, degradation. (I was in a bad mood hkjskjs)

Word count: 4k

A/N: We not tolerate any pedophilia here !!

I write about Five with their 20s. I write the same about the characters of Harry Potter.

Let me know if you want to be added for a taglist for a specific fandom (Criminal Minds, The Umbrella Academy, Riverdale, Roman Godfrey, or all)

English is not my first language, so I so sorry if have a mistake.

Requests are open. Love you ❤️

— — — — —

Five Hargreeves had a bad temper. It was explicit, hanging from his chest on a giant sign that said: “ABANDONATE THE HOPES IF YOU ENTER HERE.” And he knew that.

Inside his body he housed a sarcastic, explosive and sulky soul, with no patience for half the world. Everything about him exuded a dangerous, authoritarian, arrogant energy, mixed with distilled look that have always been able to subdue anyone.

Five is the type of man who, while everyone dreams of easy solutions, he knows that if he wants something to be done he will have to do it himself. He likes a hunting, taking the lead in any situation, having no problem breaking rules to make things happen.

And he was perfectly comfortable with that. Taking control of his world. Until, of course, you show up. Taking the key to his Olympus as if it had always belonged to you.

You were the one thing that Five Hargreeves couldn't subdue. He was unable to impose to you his reputation as a man who should not be challenged. Because that was exactly how the world saw Five. Like a man you don't challenge. Even his siblings realized, after a certain point, that it was not advisable to play with him.

But, apparently against all common sense, none of this had an effect on you.

You were not afraid, or pondering your words. You rolled your eyes at the things he said, mocked his arrogance and always looked at him with a combination of a smile and a look that, holy mother of God, Five hated. It was the typical expression that said: “ I know a lot more than you do, but I will be quiet because you are not worth my time.”

Five Hargreeves had a bad temper. But you raised it to stratospheric proportions.

It was completely exasperating, outstanding, you were a brat who didn't hear the voice of an adult, so used to being daddy's little girl. Because that was how he saw you. You were only 24 age while he was 30. It was expected that you heard him! But no. You did not give a damn.

“If you listened to me and chose the Colombian, that wouldn't be so bad!” Five scolded again.

This was the twentieth time he had said that to you.

There was a routine with the Hargreeves siblings: you brought coffee on Mondays, since you passed a great coffee shop on the way. Diego was responsible for bringing Japanese food on Wednesdays, Luther for Indian food on Fridays and Klaus for pizzas on Saturdays. It was a banal thing, but it brought a comforting feeling of, no matter how not anyone would admit, tradition.

But it was obvious that you had to piss Five off on that too.

“And I already said that they don't do the Colombian before ten in the morning.” You passed the page of a magazine you were reading, ignoring his tantrum.

“And you can't wait ?!”

This time you looked up at Five, giving a mocking expression.

“Oh, forgive me, your majesty. I will delay my journey just because your eexcellency wants Colombian coffee.” You laughed, turning your attention to the magazine.

Five felt the tips of his ears heat up, the fingers of his hands go white from the force that he clenched his fists. You were so fucking annoying!

"You are unbearable." He said, because he saw no other way to express the hateful little monster you were.

You looked up at him again. “Serious? Me? You are the one who is complaining about not getting your blend coffee.” You turned your attention to the magazine “Like a child who didn't get chicken nuggets in the shape of dinosaurs.”

What?! Fucking what?!

Five opened his mouth in bewilderment, now anger rising up his neck. How dare you, fuck?! You were younger than him!

"What did you say?!" He repeated, his voice low but deep, his eyes bloodshot with rage.

You didn't take your attention away from the magazine by replying: “Like a child who didn't get chicken nuggets in the shape of dinosaurs.”

Oh, no. Oh fucking no.

Five slammed the coffee travel cup on the kitchen counter, walked over to you and closed your magazine brutally. You looked at him indignantly.

"What a fuck ..."

But Five didn't give you time to finish. He stuck both hands in your arms, forcing you to get up from the chair so quickly that the object fell to the floor. He pushed you back, lifting you up and making you sit at the wooden table, his eyes still on fire with your words.

"Child, isn't it ?!” He snarled, spreading your knees with his hands, settling his body still standing between your legs.

You were wide-eyed. Looking at him in amazement. Your heart was pounding in your chest so hard that you thought Five would be able to hear it, while your breath had been lost somewhere between the path from your lung to your nose.

Holy shit.

It was no secret that Five Hargreeves was gorgeous. This was not an opinion, it was a fact. With midnight hair, emerald green eyes and alabaster skin, it was not surprising that he was able to steal his breath wherever he went. And you were not immune to his charm. To be honest, you never thought it would be.

But the difference between you and the girls who fell at his feet was that ... well, you practically lived with the guy every day. You had been friends with Klaus for two years, and as a result you ended up becoming friends with the brothers and captivating them. It was almost atypical that you weren't with them. So, as a result, you ended up having time with Five too.

And, truth be told, it destroyed your will to want to impress him. As was common whenever see someone beautiful. Five Hargreeves was, in every way, arrogant. Irritating. Unbearable. Maybe it was your lust mixed with irritability, but you decreed that you didn't like him. That you would never want to fall into his bed.

Well…until now.

Until he accommodates his fucking tall, lean, firm body in the middle of your legs. Until his hands are glued to your arms in a touch of fire. Until your heart was racing like never before.

"You called me a child, didn't you?"

You wouldn't be able to answer anything in that second, even if your life depended on it. So you just nodded, a slow, cautious nod, like prey looking at hunter.

"I will show you my age!"

Five kissed you. In a way that no one had kissed you before. It was something hungry, angry, full of lust and with a desire that made you sigh softly. His hands were still on your legs, coming down to the back of your knees and pulling you firmly forward, sticking your whole body against his in a possessive way. His tongue invaded your mouth without waiting for an invitation, renouncing everything you had to offer as his.

That was a really kiss.

You put your hands on the back of his neck, running your fingers over the silky, black strands, letting your body be pressed against his as if you had been waiting for it a lifetime. Five pulled your legs closer, guiding you to close them around his hips and, once you did, his hands, determined and hungry, roam the sides of your body possessively.

"Five ..." a groan cut off your speech when his hands clung to your waist, pressing the hard and firm member to your core covered in the thin legging pants you wore.

"You already moaning and I haven't even touched you yet." His voice was overwhelmingly arrogant, full of amusement and convincing.

You were going to answer, because you weren't the kind of girl who kept quiet with a tease, but Five's hands made your waist roll around handily against his member, and a louder groan interrupted any line of reasoning you had.

“Oh, how adorable.” He scoffed, lowering his mouth to your neck and closing a hickey where pulse was “I wonder how the moaning will be when I do ...”

His right hand moved up to the inside of your thigh, rubbing his thumb in circles until he got to where you needed it most. “This.” Then he forced the movements where your clitoris was covered.

Your groan was louder than you would like to admit. The air became caustic, rarefied, the atmosphere became something breathtaking, claustrophobic, poignant. And, before you know it, it was already a wet clay in his hands.

Five Hargreeves had won. He had you exactly where him wanted.

Your moans grew louder when he tuned his thumb movements together with his pelvis movements against you. Your hands tightened on the back of his neck, your teeth closed on your lower lip in order to contain the volume, and your breathing was shaky. Your hips pushed against him, the thin leggings being smeared by the arousal that oozed from you, and as soon as his hand was only an inch away, you followed it with your hips.

“Pushing back against my fingers already? How pathetic.” Five played with the voice at the bottom of your ear.

You pulled the air against your teeth, whimpering, wanting anything he could give you.

“I bet ...” his lips slid under your skin without kissing, just making you wish, up to your lips and hovering there, a sigh away “If I asked you to take your clothes off and let me fuck you in this table like a good whore, you would gladly do. It is not?”

His free hand went to your face, taking a stir of your hair out of your eyes and placing it behind your ear. You were unable to contain the moan, closing your eyes tightly for a second, trying to contain how much your body screamed.

"Y-yes." You whined.

“Good." Five sprinkled a kiss on your lips before walking away.

You opened your eyes, your chest rising and falling with your heaving breath, your legs shaking. Your body screamed in protest at the separation, and you sent him a confused and inquiring look.

“You will learn who is in charge here." Five gave you a sly smile. "I'm only going to fuck you when you understand this."

Then he turned his back on you, took the coffee and disappeared in the blue flash.

This son of fucking bitch!

- - -

You were angry and frustrated. To say the least. Your body was on fire and mind replayed that day over and over in your head. It had been four days since Five's little exploits in the kitchen, and, to be honest, not only had he started the teasing.

Five gave you malicious and discreet smiles, gestured a lot more with his hands when he spoke just to remind you of what they could do. He hovered his body close to your whenever possible, brushing his shoulder against your, his hand gently on your back when he needed to pass beside you. His fingers even slid under your thigh under the table when you were having dinner. It was always like that.

And you were already crazy.

In the beginning, you sent him and their little game go to hell. He was not going to get what he wanted. But as the days went by, and Five started to touch you more often, the fire inside you burst, and it felt a lot less... torture if you just... gave in. The thought of sleeping with someone else just to appease that didn't bring you the same euphoria, you didn't just want sex, you wanted Five.

You knew he was playing with you. Just wanted you to give a sign that you were surrendering, so that he could give you what you wanted.

And after seven days, you gave in.

It was Monday, your mood was already an angry monster, but this time, you arrived a little later.

“Y/n, you are lateeeeee.” Klaus sang from the kitchen, biting off a large chunk of whatever it was before he sat down.

Vayna, Luther and Five were also at the table. Vayna and Luther talking about nothing important and Five reading a book under metaphysics.

"Traffic."

You lied, placing the tray of coffees in the middle of the table. Five and Luther were the first to get, Vayna still getting used to coffee addiction.

“Allison and I are going to watch something today. Why don't you come with us? ” You sat next to Klaus, throwing one leg over his.

"Is it going to be in the cinemove?”

He denied “In the living room, you can sleep here after."

You shrugged. “Okay.”

"Did you go to a different coffee shop?" Luther raised his eyebrows, having just swallowed his coffee.

“No, why?”

“It tastes different.” He drank some more.

“It is Colombian.” You put the cards on the table, in a game that only you and Five knew.

You didn't look at him, but you could feel his eyes on you and a sly, malicious smile brushing the right side of his mouth. That was the only interaction that you felt Five driving you that day. The hours had passed and it was already one in the morning when the movie in the mansion's ended. It was not atypical you slept in the mansion, the guest room was almost called “your room” at that time. But there was… there was something different this time.

As you unbuttoned your pants, with the night breeze coming in through the window, you thought that maybe it was because you never slept there having feelings for one of the siblings. So impure feelings. There was something about sleeping under the same roof as Five that made you ... nervous. But as soon as you removed the piece and placed it on the bed, the blue flash flashed behind you.

Your whole body went tense, the hairs on the back of your neck stood up, and your heart was racing as if, suddenly, you had just returned from a marathon. You swallowed, the heat of his body hitting your back, while his hand went up your arm gently.

"You are such a good girl." Five's voice made your legs tremble, the butterflies in your stomach roll.

In this moment, feeling things that you never thought you would be able to feel, you wished always were a good girl for him.

"Did you do that for me?" His mouth joined the pice of your shoulder and neck.

You knew he knew he did, but the bastard wanted to hear it from you. Five wanted you to confirm that he had won.

“Yes” You whispered, the moonlight allowing you to see when his hand went down to your belly, playing with the cos of your dark blue panties.

"I knew you would be a good girl for me."

Then, taking you by surprise, Five pushed your chest onto the bed, bending you over, pulling your hips towards his with the other hand. You sighed when you felt his already hard member hit your pussy just covered by thin panties, now wet with your mess. Your hands closed on the sheet, your heart almost screaming in relief at the contact of his body behind you.

God, you wanted him so fucking much...

“What am I supposed to do with you?” Hargreeves reflected on a rhetorical question, his hands sliding over your surrendered body, squeezing your flesh with a force that would leave marks.

You whimpered, rolling your hips over his member. "Please"

“What would people say if they knew you were such a slut for me?” Five slapped your left cheek.

You moaned softly, tightening the sheet, your body refusing to remain an inch away from him. Your hips needed more from Five's, your whimpers increasing as he took off your panties and ran his fingers through your wet folds.

"Five!" You moaned louder, biting your lip as he played with your entrance.

"Should I just fuck you with my fingers?" He caused your entry with two digits "Or with my dick?"

You were an incoherent mess, days of denial and desire that burned arthrosis in your body.

"Answer me!" Five slapped you again, this time louder, more grotesque, making you cry out.

"Y-your dick!" You tried to say, “P-please. Fuck me with your dick, please. ”

You were desperate, that was the truth. Desperate for contact, desperate for touch. Desperate for anything that Five Hargreeves could want from you. Anything he wanted to give you.

"Hard?" His voice was now dark, slightly wicked.

“Y-yes! Please!”

Then Five stuck his hand to the back of your neck, curling his fingers in your hair and pulling your face up, making you face the ceiling as he leaned over and snarled at your neck:

"How hard?"

"Give me all!" You begged “Please, Sir. Give me all."

That title seemed to drive him out of his mind. Because the only thing you had in response was the sound of his belt falling to the floor and the rustle of his pants and boxers down, his right hand never leaving your hair. You groaned in anticipation, tears pricking your eyes from the desire that had accumulated so long when you felt the tip of his dick press against your entrance.

Five lowered his mouth to your ear, holding his hand more in your hair as he said: "I’ d hold on to something if I were you. "

Then he entered you. Hard, rough, wild. Opening all your walls and spreading your abundant liquid all over his dick. You opened your mouth in a silent scream, your nails etched hard on the sheet, tears streaming from your eyes without warning. Five gave you just a few seconds to settle for his size, starting to beat inside you at a relentless pace.

This time you screamed. Your heart pounding in chest, your pussy pulsing around Five with so much desperation that you heard him moan and curse behind you. The pace was rough, heavy, wild and full of lust. He fucked you like a rabid animal, devouring everything you had to offer, filling every last inch of you. The sound was of pornographic moans and bodies clashing with arrogance, filling the entire mansion with sounds that would not be forgotten.

"S-sir!" You moaned loudly, pushing your ass to Five at the same rate, making he hit the deepest spot inside you.

“Fucking such good slut!” He dumped one more slap on your ass, freeing his hand from your hair and joining both of them at your waist, pulling you towards him in an heavy rhythm.

Each thrust was an electric current poured into your body, excitement running down your thighs and melting both of you. Five groaned louder, leaning over and biting your shoulder, clenching his fingers aggressively against the innocent skin on your waist.

“I think you forgot to lock the door, that means anyone could walk right in and see you like this.” Five blew in your ear, receiving a loud groan in return, as yours tears flowed.

Your pussy tightened around his dick, pulsing in such a tight way for he.

"Oh, would you like that?" He teased you, feeling your walls tighten again. “I bet you would love to everbody see the slut you are to me. ”

"Sir!" You screamed, throwing your head forward, pressing your forehead to the sheet as you sobbed.

"Answer!" One more slap.

"Y-yes! I-I like could show that I'm your slut! ” You sobbed.

Five came out of you, making you whimper loudly in frustration. He turned you over on the bed, placing you in the center as he climbed on top of you, settling in between your legs and entering without warning again. You screamed, sinking your face into his neck as your legs closed around his waist, pulling his deep into you.

"Such a good bitch."

Five felt your limit riding fast, leaving you more breathless, tearful and desperate. You no longer measured the volume of your moans, your hands clenching your nails on his back, your waist rolling around to make him inside deeper.

"S-sir!" Then, without being able to control yourself anymore, you exploded. Came in long streams of broken moans and shaky breathing.

Your head fell on the pillow, your chest arching while you were on top of the climax. Five groaned at the scene, his limit being your expression of pure ecstasy. He sank in you as anatomically as possible, filling you with the hot liquid that overflowed from inside you.

You were both panting, sweaty and tired. Five let himself relax on top of you, partially loosening his weight, still stirring a few strokes to ensure that you had welcomed all his cum.

"Good girl." He praised you, giving you a small kiss on the neck, stepping out of you and rolling to your side on the bed.

"That was ... wow." You laughed softly, trying to catch your breath.

Hargreeves laughed too, taking the time to get out of bed, looking for the boxers and pants. You bit the inside of your cheek, suddenly not knowing what to do or what to say. Your heart sank at the thought of him leaving, and your mouth was faster than your common sense in saying:

"Wait!"

Five turned to you, his brows furrowed in question as he buttoned his black pants.

"Can you ... could you ... stay?" You took a chance, your cheeks quivering under Five's intense gaze that never left you.

But, instead of the denial you were expecting, his eyebrows furrowed even more in doubt.

“But I am not leaving.” He said it as if it was obvious.

Did you blink a few times “No?”

“I was just going to get a towel to clean you up. There are certain things that I don’t like do naked.”

You opened your mouth to answer, a little shocked, but Five disappeared in the blue flash only to appear a second later, with a towel in hand. You sank into your own shame, muttering softly to yourself in incoherent sounds, you let Five clean you up.

“Did you think I was leaving?” He scoffed when he finished, looking at you with that smug look.

You rolled your eyes, turning to the side on the bed, your back to him.

"No." You mumbled.

Five laughed, settling better on the bed. "Come here." He said, patting his chest.

And, well, as much as you would like to consider yourself a rebellious girl, you did. Turning to him again, you snuggled into his body, laying your head on his chest while Five pulled the blanket up to cover the two of you.

Five Hargreeves had a bad temper. But at that moment, with you, you did not fail to notice the lazy and caring circles he made on your shoulder with his thumb.

Tagged: @bubblegumflamingos

[disasterofastory]

Garlands (Tommy Shelby x Reader)

Garlands Tommy x Reader Warnings: Tommy is an ass, happy ending

Tommy is not in a Christmas mood.

Tommy didn't notice it at first. He was too busy with work and family to care for the already messy betting shop anyway. He went to the office, checked the books, and continued his day to take care of the not so legitimate parts of the business.

Well, at least it went this way until he almost fell over a small Christmas tree on a really, really bad day.

The tree is thin with old decorations next to the green board at the end of the shop. "What the fuck is this?" He asks, still staring at the small plant like his enemy. "A tree?" John asks back, not understanding his brother's hostility against it. "You don't say," Tommy replies sarcastically, doesn't even bother to look up at John. "Y/N brought it with the other things," the younger man says with a shrug, turning back to the board to continue writing.

While his brother is busy, Tommy's frown deepens as he looks around the dimly lighted room. The walls are decorated with red paper mache figures, and matching red paper honeycomb bells hang from the ceiling. There are red figures almost everywhere, like stars, angels, boots, or clumsily cut snowflakes. "When Y/N arrives, tell her to come to the office," he grunts, reaching into his pocket for a cigarette. "Don't hurt that girl, Thomas," Polly interferes as she steps into the shop, closing the door behind her. "It's a fucking workplace," Tommy replies. "Not a family gathering." Polly sighs, adjusting one of your angels on her table, turning her attention away from her nephew. A new argument with Tommy would lead nowhere, especially when he is in such a sour mood. The man disappears behind his office door while the others slowly arrive, and soon, the shop becomes loud and crowded. The yells and swearings are muffled through the closed wooden door, but he can hear your name shouted anyway.

"What's wrong?" You ask John, confused when you hear him yelling your name. You glance at his wife, who shrugs before your eyes wander up to the man. "Tommy wants to talk to you," he says, nodding to the office's way. "He didn't like your decorations," Polly adds to prepare you. Your stomach drops as disappointment washes over your face. "Oh," you hum, nodding as you begin your way to your boss.

You started decorating the shop at the beginning of December, and when nobody said a wrong word about your doings, you were so happy. But here you are now…

You knock on the door, and after Tommy shouts to come in, you step into the small office. The air is foggy with smoke, and the whiskey's scent fills your nostrils. "The others told me you want to speak with me," you tell him, standing in front of his desk. Tommy's face is hard and stoic. You feel small and vulnerable under his icy gaze. "Yes," he nods, placing his half-burned cigarette on the heavy crystal ashtray. "You have to take them down." "But the others like it," you argue weakly, but the moment you look into his eyes again, you regret every word. "I don't give a fuck about what they like," he answers, pointing at the door. "You take them down. It's a fucking workplace, and you would do better if you would focus on your job." His voice is steady and plain, but you can hear his anger under it. You nod, staring at your shoes the whole time. "Okay," you add. "Anything else?" "Nothing."

Disappointment and shame burn your skin the whole time while you take down your decorations in front of the others. They watch you silently, feeling sorry for you the whole time. As the day comes to an end, the shop is in its original shape, and your things are in a box, waiting to take them home. "Do you want to grab a drink?" Esme asks you, watching your crestfallen form, hunching over the desk as you finish your notes for today. "No," you shake your head, not even glancing up at her. "I will just go home. I'm tired." And I don't want to meet Tommy again, you add to yourself.

"What happened to the shop?" Arthur asks, sitting down next to John in the small nook of the Garrisons. "What do you mean?" Tommy asks, already irritated, but before Arthur can answer, John speaks up. "Y/N had to take them off," he says, sipping from his beer. "Tommy didn't like them." "Oh," Arthur hums, lifting his own glass to his lips. "What?" Tommy snaps. "Why the fuck is everyone so fond of those decors?" "It was… pleasant," Arthur shrugs. "And… never mind." "What?" Tommy asks again, raising one of his eyebrows. "Y/N is a nice gal," the older Shelby replies, watching the golden liquid swirl in the glass. "She works hard, and she is loyal." "So we let people do whatever they want with the shop, eh?" "They are just fucking decorations, Tommy."

Tommy is still in a bad mood when he leaves the noisy pub. The streets are dark and empty except for a few drunken idiots. He places a new cigarette between his lips, lightening it as he makes his way to who knows where. When the cold air clears his head, he finally has the chance to calm down. And to his utmost displeasure, he starts to feel guilty. Maybe Arthur is right for once. You work at the shop since forever, and despite your quiet nature, you are always there to help them out. You never complain if you have to work late to check Arthur's work, and you are always ready to watch over Finn when his family is busy. You even stood up against Cambell when he wanted information about Tommy and his family.

Who the fuck cares about some garlands?

Before he knows, he stands in front of your house, staring at the wooden door. With a heavy sigh, he knocks on the surface, stepping on his cigarette while he waits for you to answer. "Tommy?" You ask, surprised. Your makeup is gone from your face, your hair is in a messy bun, and a worn robe hides your nightgown from his eyes. "I forgot something?" You ask worriedly. He surely wouldn't fire you for this, right? "Or I need to take care of Finn?" "Can I come in?" He asks without answering any of your questions.

He doesn't know what he expected but not this. Your small home is plain and simple. There are books here and there, and dresses lay on the backrest of the sofa, but there is no trace of Christmas in your flat. He thought, your home would look like a fucking holiday nightmare. "Where are the decorations?" He asks, still looking around in your home. "In a box," you reply, thinking he means the betting shop. "I took everything down." "No," he shakes his head. "From here." "Um," you grunt. "I don't decorate my home," you shrug. "Why?" Yeah, every other person would drop the topic, seeing it's sensitive to you, but not Thomas fucking Shelby. "I have nobody," you confess, feeling the shame burning your skin. "I decorated the shop so the others can enjoy it too." "You can put them back," Tommy says after a while, surprising you once again. "If you want to."

The next day, the betting shop is dressed in red once again by the time Tommy arrives. He can see you sitting at your desk, writing something while the others yell around you. You look up when you feel his gaze on you, and you dare to let a small, uncertain smile slip, afraid he changed his mind. "How're the books?" He asks, stopping before you. "Good." "Good."

When Christmas day comes, the shop stays closed, and even Tommy forces himself to stay at home and put the business aside. Polly had to threaten him, but it worked. He sits in the kitchen, watching Esme and Polly cook while John decorates the tree with his kids and Finn. Arthur is still fast asleep after a drunken night. "What's your problem?" Polly asks him after a while. The man just shakes his head, but the frown stays on his face while the cigarette burns between his lips. "I have to go," he says suddenly, standing up and taking his coat off the back of the chair. "Where?" Polly asks him, but she gets no answer as Tommy makes his way to the exit. "I swear to God, Thomas, if it's business…"

His way to your home is short, and when he almost slams the door open and steps into your home, he stops for a second. "Lock your door!" He orders you, pointing at the entrance, watching your frightened form on the sofa with a book in your hands. "Thomas!" You snap at him. "Get dressed," he orders you again. "You are coming with me." "For what?" You ask him, but you already stand up from your seat. "You can't leave Finn alone, Tommy! It's Christmas! He needs his family!" "I know," he nods. "You will spend it with us. Polly and Esme will cook too much, and they are not that good in the kitchen to eat their meal for days."

Excitement spreads over your chest as you run into your room, hoping to find a pretty dress for the occasion.

None of you know it yet, but this is not your last Christmas together, and in a few years, you will have a few kids around the Christmas tree in a big mansion.

[dilfwaynes]

durante la notte

summary: natasha always deals the cards first, but always ends up being the first to fold them as well.

✎ word count ; 1.5k

⚢ pairings ; natasha romanoff x fem!reader

genre ; smut

✗ warnings ; mean power bottom!reader, undertones of elitism, strap on use, degradation, pwp.

a/n ; natasha x Italian!reader cos i was finishing italian hw while writing this and thinking in Italian LOL not edited !!

translation: fangool / go do it in an ass, / marone / damn it / il mio piccolo tesoro / my little treasure.

you lick your lips slowly, lifting the petite glass and bringing it to your lips, tasting the rich krug flat on your tongue. fingers wrapped around tightly as you watch natasha flaunt around the bar end of the restaurant, collude deep with a full view of her little display with your table only a few feet away. rolling your eyes you pick up the cigarette pack aside from you, fumbling down your drink and lighting it up, blowing out the thick french scent smoke.

“excuse me, could you please put out your cigarette,” your eyes flash towards the man some tables away, eyebrow cocked in annoyance and distrain. you stare blankly, tapping away the burnt ashes off the tip and turning your attention back to natasha.” ma’am.”

“marone! leave the fucking smoking section then!” you snap towards their direction, eyes harden and un amusement fading to anger fast, glaring. “proletariat, fangool!” shifting back to the russian, catching her eyes and bridging the intensity of her green, inhaling once more. sliding the champagne again to your lips, raising an eyebrow over the rim with jealousy burning in with the alcohol. are you finished with your game?

natasha smirked over her slightly hauled shoulder, your expression lamely and stoic but faded underneath is the whole reason she’s continuing on her show. still, she peers at you from the corner of her while fingers shims around the younger girl’s arm, your rings grasping tightly against the glass, the cartier sleek love band, and the golden diamond aside it as well a panthère slimed around your wrist. truthfully you looked good enough to eat with the white silk pressed on your tanned skin, giving you more of a glow with the golden  accessories.

brushing back the stray hair behind the girl’s ear she watched as your mien fallen and a rushed snap of your fingers has the waiter ushering you the bill, eyes set on natasha as you mindless throw money for the check and tip. 

“natasha,” waving a hand behind your back to beckon her to tail from a distance, and like always she obeyed. following you into the car, muttering something in Italian before the chauffeur starts the car. you turn your attention back on her calmly, nodding before reaching a hand and yanking her head to rear in your pleasing.” what a show you’ve put on tonight beloved, but i didn’t care much for your co-star.” you laugh softly, pulling her upper to meet her eyes. your nails running along the back of her neck with your lips attaching to the base of her throat.

“but i don’t think it’ll do well,” you sigh, the mock of sympathetic patent with a now pout in place. natasha’s lips quirk upwards, deciding to play along.” that’s mean to say baby.” her eyes trained on your lips, the red curling into a pleasing smile, the hold within her hair loosens, and a soothing hand pushing her streaks back.  

“don’t worry, you can be the main star of my show,” you say quietly, intertwining your hand with hers and bringing it down to your thigh under your dress, your gaze flickering back towards her.” and mine will be a lot better and successful.” your fist tightening withholding her hair once more and roughly pushing her towards you, slamming your lips against hers with a smothering kiss.

“but i don’t know if you quite deserve it, touching that filthy puttana,” you whisper nearing the shell of her ear, voice edged with a low seething.”i shouldn’t even let you touch me. i bet if i let you, you’ve spread that whore out and fucked her, hm? or would you have done that if i wasn’t there?” your words meant to come out as teasing but natasha heard the undertones, and she knew you knew, that she knew.

“no,” natasha lets out shakily, holding back a groan of the feeling of your teeth nipping at her exposed neck.”don’t want her, just you.” your head falls against her shoulder, smoothing a kiss on the blade.

“just me?” your relaxed features now sneering, your grip a little tighter at the movement of the car stopping. nodding,” just you.”

giving her another kiss before opening the door, an unspoken command for her to follow you into the penthouse. kicking off the satin heels, peering over to the entrance where natasha stands.”c’mere il mio piccolo tesoro,” you coo, tapping a spot for her to join, smiling to ace the act. natasha doesn’t need to see the calm before the storm to understand how this is gonna play out. draping your legs over her lap, catching her face between your fingers,”such a pretty girl,” you murmur, shaking your head.”too bad she’s such a little fucking slut.” you finish, though the tone still mockingly sweet, your smile replaced with a lazy grin now.

without any response from natasha you shift towards her lap, your legs between her waist and gripping her thighs with a bruising kiss, wrapping her legs further around her waist. alining your sex to brush right against her bare thigh, sighing out at the friction, the thin panties the only thing keeping your pussy from her warm skin.”stay put.” you hiss, sealing it with a pinch to her arm, laughing at her little groan of pain.  striding towards the chest tucked into the corner, picking up the silicone and a small bottle of lube. 

“make yourself useful for once and lube that bitch up,” you laugh at your own words and take no mind to natasha, she rolls her eyes stripping herself of her top, watching your little tease show of taking off the silk, and as expected a matching white set underneath. rolling her hips up through the harness, squeezing some of the lube into her palms and running it along the fake length. lifting her gaze and meeting your steps to her, your bra unclasped and somewhere thrown but your panties remain. she cocks her eyebrow downwards, silently asking why they’re still on. you don’t reply, simply pooling them down, and reaching for natasha’s face by her jaw and shoving the expensive lace into her mouth, very well enjoying her wide eyes of curiosity and then surprise.”don’t give me those eyes, i don’t wanna hear you after that shit you pulled with that puttana.”

slowly sinking yourself on the strap, slapping a looming hand of the red head underneath you, taking the cock with a burning stretch leaving you aching, moaning when you feel the tip hilts, natasha drooling at seeing the fake cock poke out some from your stomach. waiting a few moments before lightly grinding on the strap.”see, if you weren’t some stupid bitch i would’ve let you fucked me,” you tell her, grabbing her shoulders for support, rising your hips up and slamming them down again. natasha grits her teeth, itching to touch you, kiss you, feel you literally anything.”please.” she muffled out.

you chuckle at her barely audible beg, her eyes glossy and her voice so whiny, you loved her like this. you decide to throw her a bone and grab one of her hands to give some attention to your tits. speeding up your pace with the added pressure of natasha tugging your nipples between her fingers.”fuck, fuck, fuck play with my clit baby.” you gasp out, your eyelids fluttering with the coil in your stomach ready to snap. podding her thumb against your clit, watching your face falls into pleasure and soon you’re crying out and gushing all over her lap. alcohol always made you extra sensitive.

ripping the makeshift gag of your panties from her mouth, she stares at you for a few seconds.”i’m fucking you at least once tonight.”

“if you can even do that right beloved.”

your words get stuck in your throat as your back drops to the couch, natasha between your legs and pushing the tip inside, arousal pulling at the slick coating the strap. holding your hips still she snaps hers, filling you up. her mouth dry seeing tears peak the corner of your eyes, your legs shake around her already and she hasn’t even moved yet. supporting her body weight with her hand against the side of your head, grabbing the arm of the couch and thrusting up, her grunt going straight to your core. she smirks at the strings of high pitched moans she’s getting out of you, your nails dragging across her back and digging in, your legs beginning to shake uncontrollably with the sound of natasha fucking you, the couch dampening under the pressure of natasha’s hips against yours.”don’t stop, i’m gonna cum you better fucking make me cum.” leaning down and smashing her lips down to yours, reaching a hand to where you both connect and rubbing circles on your clit.

your eyes roll to the back of your head, your grip on natasha unbreakable and your body shaking under her from your second orgasm of the night. giving out a few more trusts to ride out your climbmax, kissing the side of your temple and staying inside you. panting slightly, burying her face inbetween your neck and the Italian leather.

“does this make me forgiven?”

“we’ll see.”

[theotheroccassionalfanficwriter]

gonna be a weird request but--octopus boi childe fucking the reader with his tentacles and making them suck from another tentacle please

Anon there is no such thing as a weird request, just one no one has ever thought of yet. Anyways! just like the previous request, please apply the adage "If there's a hole, there's a way!" three tentacles in one hole might be too much but with the power of love and lust nothing is impossible!

Wrapped in Love

Summary: In the aftermath of Liyue, in the cold and merciless everwinter of the Tsaritsa, Tartaglia learns how to fuck you with his new appendages.

--

There were few things in life that you regretted, most of it involving Tartaglia in one way or another, your infatuation of him was an open secret among the Fatui. Not even the Tsaritsa was above using it to tease you on occasions where a meeting just ran far too long for her liking. Right now on top of your list of regrets, directly above the time you had loudly mentioned that Tartaglia was the most desired bachelor within the social circle of Snezhnaya’s noble ladies due to his family man side, was the consequence of you showing your tentacle kink to Tartaglia that one time he had specifically requested your skills to unseal Osial.

The consequence being subjected to help him test out Dottore's insane projects. A rare moment of cooperation between the two considering the immense dislike that was present among the rest of the Harbingers and Tartaglia, with the exception of you. It had taken you less than a month to accept the fact that compared to the other Harbingers, your talents didn’t include scheming or fighting.

If anything your talent was your dogshit luck at getting along well with the other harbingers, a glorified messenger that knew how to fight well enough when necessary but had no innate skill for it in the same way as Tartaglia. You were better off giving them ideas, a human rubber duck to bounce off thoughts for the Tsaritsa.

Which led to your current situation, in Tartaglia’s bathtub, massaging his new appendages. Of all the situations you dreamt of why you’d end up sharing a bath with him, this wasn’t one of them. Sure his thick tentacles were soft and squishy but when he curled them up, you could feel the core muscles, his new appendages were strong and you had no doubt Tartaglia would have no problem strangling 8 people at the same time.

Which then led to your current horny thoughts praying to your Archon to have mercy and not let Tartaglia comment on your thoughts that was entertaining the idea of tentacle sex.

‘I bet this would feel good inside me’ You thought as you gently observed the suckers on Tartaglia’s tentacle, the one you knew was his detachable dick.

Tartaglia’s tentacle wriggled gently on your hand, alternating between feeling out the gaps of your fingers with its thick tip that barely fitted through, and leaving marks on your hand with its suckers. The tentacle was darkish blue in hue, turning violet when the light hits it at a certain angle, if asked you would not be able to identify what sort of octopus he was beyond a specie that was most likely a bottom dweller.

While you were busy sitting on the rest of Tartaglia’s wriggling tentacles in your swimsuit, Tartaglia lounged about on the other end of the tub, facing your back with a displeased look on his face. His face rested on the knuckle of his hand, turbulent thoughts apparent on his face.

Tartaglia worried about your obliviousness once you became absorbed in your task. He wondered how you could still observe his tentacle when another one was wriggling directly below your crotch. He was quite aware that if it went on for another minute, he could definitely slip it in. His stare on your ass, whose crack was slightly visible from the way you crouched, burned through you but you ignored it. Countless missions spent with Tartaglia had made you immune, slowly but surely, to his bouts of displeasure on some of your work ethic.

Being younger than him had the equally fortunate and unfortunate effect of him being almost caring towards you. You bore with it because 1. You liked him, and 2. Letting him do as he pleased was more energy efficient. Such actions of course led to him liking you a whole lot more compared to the other harbingers, which meant that more often than not you were sent along with him to distant lands, which meant you dealt with whatever fall out occurred from his penchant of following trouble.

Not that you mind, sure you weren’t the best fighter among your colleagues, nor were you the best schemer among them but you were certainly the best negotiator they had when it came to compensation. So it stood to reason that it was best that you were paired with Tartaglia most of the time, which was fortunate considering the events in Liyue. Economic relations had only taken a slight dive after the whole Osial fiasco, with Tartaglia almost duking it out with Signora once they were away from prying eyes.

Your assurance that you had evacuated the entirety of Liyue Harbor with the spare Fatui soldiers you had and the rest of the Millelith, was the only reason Tartaglia easily backed down.

The result was that Tartaglia had warmed up to you considerably, and was without a doubt considered you as his “friend” if it meant sparring sessions every day that went from fighting each other all out to him teaching you how to use every weapon he knew. And Tartaglia as a catalyst user was just a sight to behold as much as he was a dual blade wielder.

“How long are you planning to ignore me?” He asked as he pulled you close to his chest, tentacles wrapping around your waist and legs, slyly splitting your legs wide apart.

“I’m not?” You answered, confusion lacing your tone.

You reached for the tentacle that you were studying, “Can you pass the recorder to me? Dottore was demanding an oral report.”

“Didn’t he hate those?”

“Yes. But for some reason he wanted one...ugh I’m getting back at him for this” You complained as you made yourself comfortable on his chest, slouching slightly as Tartaglia cuddled you in the tub.

He hummed at the sight of you being completely relaxed around him despite his temporary state as a weird octopus thing. His tentacles were exploring your skin, the small scars that you got from moments of carelessness in exploration made some parts of your skin different. His arms played with your hair, absentmindedly kissing you every now and then on the back of your head as two of his tentacles stealthily slithered up your chest resting below the area of your chest.

He watched you for a moment as you fiddled with the recorder, figuring out how to use it.

“There we go~!” You muttered, pleased at your actions that you remained unaware of imminent realization of your lewd thoughts.

Tartaglia smiled fondly before it turned into a lascivious smirk as he simultaneously gripped your waist as his tentacles slipped into your hole and sucked.

“Hnn~!” You moaned in surprise, back-arching at the intrusion only to end up pushing it further inside, the tentacles near your chest immediately latched on your nipples, sucking it until you let out another moan, “Ah~!”

“Wha-” The thick tentacle inside your hole sucked on your wall, gelatinous hydro coating its thick tip until it felt like your hole was filled to the brim, “No! Ahn! Don’t twist inside-”

Your words were interrupted by the intrusion of a particularly thick tentacle in your mouth. “Mmmpff!!!”

Drool dripped down on the sides of your mouth as you felt the appendage roaming inside, thick and slick as it fucked your mouth. You wriggled your body, doing your best to break free from the tight hold of Tartaglia’s tentacles but only made it tighten its hold on your limbs and drove it deeper inside you.

“You feel really good,” Tartaglia praised, making you pleased for a moment which was enough for his appendage that was stimulating your insides to go further, “How many of my tentacles do you think you can take?”

His words sent you to a bout of panic, the lone appendage that was sucking on the walls of your hole, wriggling about and hitting your spot was already too much for you. You signaled to him that any more would break you but all it did was make his grin wider just as you felt the two tentacles on your nipples grope your chest and then twist your over-stimulated nipples.

You cummed just as you felt the hard thrust inside your wall, sending you to another orgasm that had your body bending from the pleasure only to turn limp once the high was done. Even as you laid on his chest with your tired body and hazy mind, Tartaglia’s tentacles didn’t stop moving, you felt and saw your legs spread wide, two tentacles holding you up until your ass was lifted. The soft prod of another tentacle on your asshole made you sit up in alarm but it was useless as you felt your asscheek being spread and then the cold intrusion of the tip.

“Mpff!” Your alarm turned into a moan, mouth opening wide for one of his slightly thinner tentacles to slip in.

“Look at you, wriggling in pleasure” Tartaglia said as he licked your neck, “Did you think I wouldn’t notice how you would rub your slutty crotch on my tentacle? Did you like the feeling of my suckers rubbing your slutty hole?”

You were helpless as his tentacles lifted your legs up, the soft prod to your hole was all the warning you got before another tentacle roughly pushed its way in. You cried out in pleasure, hole clamping down in reflex but it was all for naught as you saw your legs being spread wide in the air and then felt your hole being fucked again and again until you came once more.

“Nnn!” You moaned as you laid on Tartaglia’s chest, your hands reached the nearest tentacle and began sucking it with your mouth.

Tartaglia laughed in delight, “What a cute slut you are!”

His laughter rang in your ears as you felt your mouth being forced open, his tentacle slipped out, your saliva coating it and stretching until a thin strand was left connecting the tip of his tentacle to your tongue. And then he kissed you, passionately as he twisted your body to sit facing towards him.

His tentacles harshly slipped out of your abused hole, making you moan and cum once more. The water on the tub sloshed and spilled from the harsh and vigorous movements of Tartaglia. His hands held you by the waist, treating your hole like a fleshlight as he repeatedly slammed you to his tentacles, occasionally rubbing your crotch against his suckers until you found yourself doing it personally.

You held onto his shoulders as you repeatedly used his tentacles to seek out your own orgasm. Dottore’s recorder was already long forgotten as it continued recording on the wet tiles of the bathroom floor.

“Tartaglia!” You cried out his name, when you felt another tentacle thrust inside you as his teeth clamped on your nipples. You came loudly, your hole twitching as it clamped on the tentacles.

“Fuck!” He cursed before pushing you down the tub, the waters drastically reduced, and moved to cover your entire lower half. You felt his beak and then the familiar push of the head of his cock on your entrance.

His hands played with your chest as he easily plunged his cock inside you. Your moans was silenced with his kiss, and then he began moving. He fucked you ardently, like a starved man, it was an odd sensation for your lower half, his suckers leaving bruises while his cock repeatedly and easily fucked your hole.

The water turned murky with each orgasm the two of you had, Tartaglia’s back was filled with your scratches and the crescent marks of your nails from digging deep in his skin. Your neck was littered with bruises and bite marks from his mouth. The two of you fucked as if both of you had been doused with aphrodisiac, as if neither of you had sex in a long while.

And though it was farthest from the truth, Tartaglia wouldn’t deny that he had missed you terribly. The entire time on Liyue had been spent either preparing for taking the gnosis or fixing up trade relations, there wasn’t a single time he was able to spend a day with you without it being work related.

Not even his weekly challenges with the traveler were able to stave off his longing for you. So for him, this was the closest he had been to you for a long time. When both of your lust had been satiated, you laid on the now almost empty tub, simply basking in the afterglow as you gave him absentminded kisses on his chest.

“Oh shit!” You cursed as you frantically left his loving embrace and searched for the lost recorder.

“What’s wrong?” He asked, tentacles pulling you back to his side.

“Dottore’s fucking recorder! I’d like it if our sex life wouldn’t be part of the official record of Dottore’s whatever!” You answered, as you swatted a particularly lecherous tentacle that was rubbing your still sensitive hole.

Tartaglia helped you look for it, arms hugging you as his eyes searched about before he spotted it near the claw foot of the tub. His tentacle reached for it, bringing it to you like a prize, ignoring the blinking red light that was still recording.

“What prize do I get?” He asked as he kissed your cheek, squeezing you tighter in his arms.

You hummed as you fiddled with the recorder, stopping it and hoping in vain as you replayed it’s contents.

“AHN~! NO!--IT WON’T FIT AT ALL!”

As soon as you heard your dirty talk, you immediately stopped the playback. Imaginary tears falling down your eyes as you cursed your past self for always being swept up on Tartaglia’s charm and antics.

“Ah~ as expected of my beloved comrade~ even though you said it wouldn’t fit, in the end you had three tentacles inside you in one hole right?”

You blushed at his teasing, “With how big your cock is, it would be a wonder if three didn’t fit.”

“Ahahaha!” He laughed, pure and genuine, “Comrade! That isn’t a winning argument for you at all~”

“Who cares! Anyways, what kind of pet name is comrade!?!” You tried to steer the conversation away from your loss, “Change it! Or are you dating the Traveler on top of me?!”

Tartaglia’s eyes softened at your kitten-like jealousy. He smiled at you, soft and loving that had you melting from the inside. It was in moments like this that made you wonder what life would be like for the two of you outside the Fatui, a normal life free from politik and schemes and the ever-looming threat of Celestia’s wrath.

“Then what about супруг(spouse)?”

An unsaid question, for a future that may never come. You paused, heart beating fast as you thought hard and deeply, not weighing the pros and cons but thinking of the possibility that this might not end in happiness. That this promise might end up the first one he’d break.

“Are you sure?” You asked him, meeting his eyes head on, willing him to understand what he was asking.

Out of all the Harbingers he was the closest to death. The one most likely to die first. He was their Vanguard, a sacrifice, when push comes to shove he would have to lay down his life for the rest of you. It was a thought both of you knew, a reason why he wanted to become stronger and stronger because no matter how many times he claims that world domination was his goal, you knew that protecting the ones he held dear was also the reason why.

Tartaglia may long for a glorious death from a battle, but you knew that he also longed for a life outside the Fatui.

“Yes” He answered as he drew close to you, forehead touching with yours.

You kissed him, gently and lovingly, and for the first time filled with hope instead of resignation at the harsh future that would come. An unsaid answer for a future that both of you would fight for.

‘I will be with you always, from this day until not even death may part us.’

[inkyblinders]

Dancing with the Devil

Pairing: Luca Changretta X Reader

Author’s note: So excited to share my first fic on this blog! I’m still trying to figure out the ins and outs of Tumblr as it’s been a hot minute since I’ve last used it, but if you like my writing please repost and follow for more :)

The story (part one of many, hopefully) is set in early Season 4 and is in second-person, but you’re also a character with a name.

And in case you can’t tell...I think Luca Changretta is criminally underrated.

Warnings: Some mild smut.

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There is a stranger in the Garrison tonight.

He isn’t a shipyard laborer, neither tired nor grimy from the perpetual muck that belongs to Small Heath. In fact, he is more polished and well-dressed than anyone you’ve ever seen, except for perhaps the Shelby brothers who frequent the Garrison.

But this man is no Peaky Blinder.

He leisurely surveys the customers in the pub, eyes obscured by a fedora that slants on his head. An unlit cigarette hangs between thin lips. It’s a halfhearted attempt to blend in, as if he’s doing this as a courtesy but cares not in the slightest if he rouses suspicion.

You are used to breaking up bar fights and mopping up the bloody aftermath, but this man makes you more uneasy than any roughhousing drunkard you’ve dealt with. He is too quiet, his eyes too sly.

“This must be the trouble Tommy was expecting,” you think to yourself.

When he catches your gaze from behind the bar, a hawk-like smile cuts across his face. He winks then, and you flush even as something dangerous spikes in your throat. The whiskey you hold in your hands is just like his. Another prop, another facade.

“Anything else for you then, sir?”

He looks up from beneath the brim of his hat. His face is slyly handsome, with sharp cheekbones and a striking nose you crave to run down lightly with your fingers. Now you understand why he tries to keep himself hidden.

Here is a face that, once seen, would not be soon forgotten.

A tilt of his head, a voice as like raw silk as you shiver.

A tilt of his head, a voice as like raw silk as you shiver.

“Your daddy owns this place?”

So he’s not from Birmingham, after all. Every man within a fifty-mile radius knows who owns the Garrison. They might have never met the man, but they certainly know the name of his younger brother.

“No sir, he doesn’t.” Your voice is carefully polite but clipped, praying it doesn’t betray the pounding of your heart as you watch him take off his hat and run a hand through dark, slicked-back hair. You’ve seen Tommy talk like this with men he mistrusts, and he mistrusts a lot of men. No matter what, you are not volunteering any more information than necessary.

He waits for you to say more, and his smile doesn’t falter when you remain silent. “Well then, signorita, will you tell me who does?”

The Italian. So it is him.

Fuck.

“The Garrison is owned by...a family from these parts. Do you have business with them,” You can’t help but add impulsively, “Signore?”

His dark eyes widen with pleasure at your flippant remark in his own language. He is playing a game, and you are playing along with him.

“What business would I have with Gypsy fucks like them?” He leans forward, “But sweetheart, you on the other hand...”

Working for the Shelbys means minding the pub when Arthur’s gone, and spying for Tommy when he needs intel on whoever he’s feuding with at the time. It’s more serious than simply turning the other cheek when there’s a cutting in the streets. But you are not prepared to face an enemy alone.

Even if he is as charming as the devil.

Even if he wants you, and you want him back.

For the millionth time, you silently curse Tommy for forbidding you from having a gun, a knife, anything to protect yourself while in the pub. You had asked him about it one night, afterwards, and he only replied, “It’s bad for business if a girl like you gets caught with a weapon she can’t handle.”

“Then teach me,” You had retorted, balling up his trousers and chucking it at his head, “You think you can protect me. But what about when you’re gone?”

Tommy had looked up from buttoning his shirt then, his gaze steely and blue. “I have eyes in all of Birmingham. And besides,” He smiled ruefully, “You’re never in danger unless I put you there myself.”

In the pub, the Italian watches your expression. And in a moment of madness, you almost take up his veiled flirtation.

But then there is Tommy. Tommy with his inscrutable blue gaze. Tommy with his whores. And now you are angry at yourself for thinking of him when he was probably fucking some other woman in Camden Town. For business, he would explain, avoiding your eyes.

“What business would you have with a barmaid like me?” A whisper of regret fills you as you turn to leave. You are halfway up the stairs that lead to your room above the pub when you hear a caress of a single word that turns your blood to ice.

“Isabel.”

The Italian is leaning against the banister, eyes drinking in your figure. And now he saunters up the steps. You scamper up the rest of them but he is quicker. In a flash he spins you around, his body snugly against you and the second-floor wall. An arm over your head, caging you with his tall frame.

The intoxicating scent of tobacco and roses fills the crevices between your bodies.

Your eyes flash dangerously as he bends down, daring him to force a kiss. But he only murmurs into the crook of your neck, “Where is Mr. Shelby tonight?”

You answer breathlessly into the shoulder of his freshly-pressed suit, “He could be at the betting shop. Could be with his wife at home. I don’t-- ”

“The other Mr. Shelby, Isabel.”

Maybe he already sent his men after Tommy. Maybe Tommy’s already dead in a ditch, in godforsaken Camden Town. Or maybe, just maybe, this man really doesn’t know where he is, and you are the only person who can tell him.

He has you good and compromised. No one can help you, so you must save yourself. Instincts kick in, your mind feverishly formulating a plan. It won’t be the first time you’ve done something like this, and on Tommy’s orders nonetheless.

Loose lips sink ships, and men are so pliant after a romp in the sheets. Mindful of your mission now, you angle to ask for his secrets, anything you could find out that gives Tommy an advantage.

Only this time, your heart actually catches as you gaze into the mafioso’s lethal eyes.

A pause then, wondering how much you should reveal, and you confess, “Tommy doesn’t tell anyone where he is until he’s already there.” It’s a half-truth—he told you.

“So he’s Tommy to you then?” The man is pleased with your slip of the tongue. You’ve told him a secret he already knows.

“You are his woman.” He caresses your face with the back of his hand, etched with ink. A cross. Rosary beads. And there, a black-palmed hand. Just like the ones he sent the Shelbys.

I want to see where his tattoos lead to.

“You are his woman,” he continues, and something dark and sweet fills his voice as he purrs, “And you are not afraid of me.”

“I’m not giving up Shelby secrets even if you seduce me,” You stifle a whimper as he wedges a leg between your skirts, and you think of nothing except the way you ache for him to come even closer, until there is nothing between you but skin on bare skin.

“Tommy has whores who might give him up for a pound or three. Although,” you smirk, “I won’t tell you where you’d find them, either.”

“Oh sweetheart, didn’t you hear me?” So close you can feel his heartbeat with your fingertips, his lips grazing the shell of your ear.

A deathly promise.

“I’ve come for you.”

He slants his mouth, his lips pressing hotly to yours as you surrender to desire. The kiss is swift and hard. The two of you come together, again and again, like lightning and thunder. As he cradles your head with one hand, the other slips underneath your blouse to palm your breast. You arch against the wall. The onyx rings on his hand are cold, and they pucker your nipples as they bite your skin.

Somehow you find your fingers seeking him too. But it’s not enough to touch the exposed skin between the gaps of his buttoned shirt. You want more.

When you pull apart he is panting, lips apart and wet. His once slicked-back hair now mussed, you imagine yours is too. For the first time this evening, his arrogant face is a little shocked, as if the taste of you affected him more deeply than he expected. You unclench your fists from his shirt and slowly take his face into your hands. You draw a line down the bridge of his nose, feeling all its bumps and ridges.

You murmur huskily, “Why did you really come to Birmingham?”

He tilts his head expectantly, and you are lost in his devastating eyes as he replies.

“Pleasure.”

[bruhstories]

Yes, Daddy

summary: it's stepdaddy!zeke, there's no need for a summary xD pairing: stepfather!zeke x stepdaughter!reader warnings & content: stepcest, unprotected sex, fingering, spitting, lots of daddy mentions, oral sex (male receiving) word count: 1.5k

a/n: danger! this is very self-indulgent, i'm so sorry

You couldn't understand why your mother wanted to get married after your father left. The two of you were perfectly fine just by yourselves. She kept yapping about how a man could offer you stability and security, but you knew better — you knew your mom just wanted to get laid, and since she was almost 50, no one sane man of her age would marry her. She looked good for her age, so it was no surprise when she finally brought home her boyfriend. What was surprising was that Zeke was twenty years younger than your mother. Hell, you were closer to his age than her — he was only nine years older than you. But you could completely understand why she fell in love with him. The man was handsome, extremely intelligent, charming and, most importantly, rich. And for some stupid reason, Zeke was dating your mother, a reason you didn't figure out yet.

Then the wedding happened, and your mother was the happiest she'd ever been. You helped pick her dress, organised the whole damn thing to the smallest detail, even tasted the cake. You were going to move out eventually, and decided your mother would feel better if she had someone around her, so you tried to be nice to your new father. Besides, after Zeke moved in with you, you found out he was a pretty cool guy. So cool, that you began to fantasise about him, touching yourself when you heard him fuck your mom through the thin walls that separated your rooms.

You can't sleep. You toss and turn in your bed, you're either too hot, too cold, too tired or too full of energy.

"Fuck." You breathe out, pushing the blanket off of you. Perhaps a glass of milk will help, and so you go downstairs, dressed in nothing but an oversized t-shirt and a pair of knee socks. You don't expect Zeke to still be awake after the way he the bed screeched an hour ago, yet there he is, watching some documentary about monkeys.

"Can't sleep either?" You walk into the living room and he glances at you, not so subtly admiring your thighs. Maybe you should've put on some panties.

"No. I can't get used to the mattress."

"Huh." You shrug, making your way to the kitchen. "Want some milk?"

"Yes, please." Zeke nods, not taking his eyes off of you. You don't turn the lights on, you know your house like the palm of your hand, and open the fridge, bending down for the jug. The shirt isn't long enough to cover your body once you've bent, and you know that. You count on that.

"Mind if I sit with you?"

"Not at all."

You hand him the glass of milk before plopping on the couch, thighs exposed to the viewing pleasure of your stepfather. Neither of you is paying any attention to the TV, but you both pretend to be immersed in the documentary. Until you become adventurous and rest your hand on his knee. He doesn't flinch.

"You've got some milk..." Zeke points at the corner of his mouth.

"Oh? Did I get it off?"

"No. Here, let me." He wipes the drop with his index finger. Swiftly, before he can remove his hand, you poke your tongue out, giving his finger a slow lick. He's frozen, and you take advantage of this to suck on his index, not breaking eye contact for one second.

"Thanks." You flash him a smile after removing his finger out of your mouth with a pop. You're threading on thin ice, and it's about to crack by the looks of his growing bulge.

"Do you think it's appropriate for you to suck on your stepfather's fingers like that?" Zeke's condescending tone makes you squeeze your thighs together, and he leans closer to you.

"You could've removed them from my mouth, daddy." Your hand travels from his shoulder to his chest. "Makes me think you liked it. That's not very appropriate either, is it?"

"Why, you little... slut." His calloused fingertips graze over your collarbone before snaking around your throat. You whimper at the tightness of the grip, a smile creeping on your lips. "Shh, you wouldn't want your mother to wake up, would you?" You shake your head, half-lidded eyes watching his every move. Zeke releases your throat and you already lifted your shirt. "So eager to please."

"Mmm, I wanna please you, daddy. Wanna make you feel good." Your hand is desperately trying to pull his cock out but Zeke has you pinned to the couch by your shoulders.

"Bet you've got a tight cunt." He licks his lips, imagining how you'd clench around his throbbing dick. "Bet you're also soaked."

"Why don't you see for yourself?" You take him by surprise with a kiss that's so wrong, but that feels so right. Zeke kisses you back, tongue exploring your mouth like it's uncharted territory while his hand snakes between your thighs. You're not fighting him by any means, no. In fact, you spread your legs so he can have all the access he wants, seemingly satisfied by your actions. And he's right, you're dripping for him.

"Am I wet enough for you, daddy? Bet that old hag is so dry." You don't know what possesses you to say those things, you never hated your mother. But Zeke just has that effect over you and you can't even think anymore.

"Now, now," he shoves two fingers between your folds and you throw your head back, "that's no way to speak about your mother."

"Oh, p-please, as if you give a shit about h-her!"

"Hmm, it's true. I wanted to break up with her until I met you. And I knew I had to make you mine." Zeke adds another finger, curling them up to hit your sweet spot. "I'm glad you're not as stupid as your mother."

"Shit, fuck me, please! Wanna feel your cock inside me, daddy!"

"Needy whore. Do you beg other boys like this?"

"N-no, just you! Only you!"

"Good, because starting today, you're not allowed to see other men. Not after I fuck you."

Finally, you think, finally he wants you. You bite on your lower lip when he spits on his cock, the glistening tip pushing at your entrance as you squirm and whimper. Zeke is by far the biggest man to fuck you, and you're sure you'll be sore tomorrow. Inch by inch, he bottoms out, filling a whole no one could have filled. Manicured fingernails dig into his shoulders for support because the man is so feral and aggressive, you feel the couch sliding back with every thrust. And your face — it's a sight for sore eyes, the way your lips form an O when he fucks into you, the way your eyes roll when his cock grazes over your cervix. He drinks you in, that's a fact.

"Fuck, you're sotight." Zeke grabs your chin, fingers pressing into your cheeks. "Open that filthy mouth."

You obey, thinking he might kiss you, but the man merely spits into your mouth and you clench your spongy walls around his cock, swallowing before he can tell you to do it.

"Good slut." He praises you and you feel your cheeks burning, chanting his name like a prayer. "As much as I love you mewling like a bitch in heat," Zeke shoves three fingers in your mouth, "I need you to shut the fuck up."

You nod, eyes filled with lust and desire as he fucks into your poor cunt. The harder he thrusts, the more you want him, and so you buck your hips, earning a low growl from your stepfather.

"That's right, take it like the whore you are."

You want to ride him, want to scream his name, but you can't, not with your mother upstairs, but at this point, you don't even care if she hears you — all you want is the sweet release of your orgasm that's been building up for some time now. Zeke can feel your need by the way you pant and arch your back, and he decides to let you have it.

"Be a good girl and rub that clit for daddy, yeah?"

You don't waste any more time and do as you're told, frantically touching yourself, clenching your muscles before relaxing them with muffled moans. He seems satisfied by your little performance, slowly pulling his throbbing cock out of your sore, soppy cunt.

"You gonna suck and swallow, love?" He removes his fingers from your mouth, coated in your saliva, drool dripping down your chin.

"Yes, yes, yes!" You answer him eagerly, tentatively falling to your knees and without a warning, you take him into your mouth.

It doesn't take much to make Zeke come — with hollowed cheeks, you bob your head up and down, back and forth, palming his balls and swirling your tongue around his cock and he's putty in your hands. When he's close, he holds your head back so that you don't miss a single drop of his cum and, like the good stepdaughter you are, you swallow the entire load with a smile on your pretty face. Zeke mockingly pats your head and you look at him with glossy eyes.

"Same time, tomorrow?"

"Yes, daddy."