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neopuppy · 1 year

Text

Shameless (M)

pairing. step-son Jeno x step-mom reader

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

wc. 10k

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

now playing. Shameless//Camila Cabello

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re lying.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He needs to fuck his step-mom.

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

“Kiss kiss.”

Disgusting.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Wha— uhm..”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh Jeno, I thought you’d gone out.”

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

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

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

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

“I suppose his nose is a bit sensitive.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ten. Nine. Eight. Seven. Six. Five—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I said scram you damn brat.”

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

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

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

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

Soon. Real soon.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jeno really can’t stand his step-mom.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m hungry, mommy.”

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

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

“Je-Jeno.. what are you..”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“J-Jeno.. please!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Baby..”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh.”

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

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

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

“Everything?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“N-no.. please, baby, don’t—“

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What in the—“

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jeno- ‘You think daddy may prefer these?’

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

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

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

Jeno- ‘Be good for me mommy.’

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

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makeyoumine69 · 1 year

Text

Starfall (commission)

— PAIRING: Patrick Bateman x Fem!Reader

— SUMMARY: Ever since he was a kid, Patrick always had everything he wanted. Always egoistical and entitled, he always took everything he had for granted. But what happens when one day his entire world falls apart when he receives a call?

— CONTAINS: Patrick Bateman's POV and no other warnings in order to avoid spoilers!😏

— WORDS: 2.3k

— A/N: Writing Patrick's POV was such a rollercoaster experience for me, so I want to thank a person who asked me to write this commission. Love you guys, I hope you like it!💗

— LINKS: [MASTERLIST] [COMMISSIONS] [AO3] [buy me a coffee]💓

The sudden knock on my office door made me frown in annoyance, as I was in the middle of listening to the new Phil Collins tape. Slowly, I removed my headphones and turned to look at Jean, her expression was something between sorrow and shock.

"What is it?" I ask, straightening my red tie.

"P-Patrick... I got a call from..."

Jesus, why do women always need to be so slow?

"A call from?" I repeated, crossing my arms in a mannerly way, without missing a chance to check my gold Rolex.

"From the hospital." She blurted out quickly before dropping her head.

I still didn't understand why she looked so sad, so I leaned back in my chair and let out a tired sigh.

"So you interrupted me because some asshole dialed the wrong number?" I pointed at my phone, enjoying the way she got embarrassed. "When I have a break, it means I don't exist to anyone, even you, Jean. How many times have I told you that?"

"It's about (y/n)," something heavy fell in my stomach. "They called to say that she got in a car accident, and they found your office number in her wallet."

Her words hit me harder than a truck, and I could swear I felt my blood freeze in my veins from the creeping fear. Fear of losing you. I stood up before even thinking about it, my hands shaking, but I tried my best to keep my cool.

"Patrick." Jean muttered as she watched me put on my coat.

"Where is she?"

"Can I come with you? I want to help."

"WHERE IS SHE?" I didn't even notice my voice getting loud, but when I saw Jean's frightened glance, a shaky breath escaped my lungs and I closed my eyes for a second. "Sorry."

"I... it's okay, I understand." She carefully handed me my scarf, which had accidentally fallen, and I hadn't even noticed. "I wrote down the address."

In addition to my scarf, she gave me a piece of paper with her note, I could barely control myself now that I realized what was happening was real.

"Thank you, Jean." I mumble, buttoning my coat and taking my briefcase. "For everything."

The taxi ride took only 20 minutes, but to me it felt like an eternity, and when I finally saw the outline of the hospital, I let out a nervous breath and got out of the car. I paid the taxi driver double what I had to, but I didn't care.

With every step I took, my heart was about to burst through my rib cage, it was beating so fast that it even hurt, and I felt so helpless and miserable under the weight of circumstances that I found it difficult to even open the main door.

Inside the hospital, time seemed to stop for me. I looked around, trying not to panic, and rushed to the reception desk, almost bumping into a nurse on the way.

The receptionist noticed my anxiety and overtook me, asking in a calm voice, "How can I help you, sir?"

"I... I'm looking for (y/n). I was informed that she's here." I said hesitantly, leaning on the reception desk.

"One moment, please." The middle-aged lady replied, fixed her glasses and picked up the phone to make a call.

To be fair, I tried not to listen to what she was saying, doing my best to distract myself from thinking about the worst, as if the worst hadn't already happened. Fuck, I'm such a mess.

"Sir?"

I shrugged at the receptionist's voice and cleared my dry throat. "Sorry. What did you say?"

"The patient you asked about. Her condition is stable now, but she's in a coma. And we can't say when she'll—"

"Can I see her?" I interrupted, my emotions finally taking over.

The lady sighed, but said nothing.

"Please," the grief and despair were eating me from the inside, and I was about to lose myself at any moment. "I need to see her and talk to the doctor!"

"I completely understand your feelings, sir," she held out her hand in a reassuring gesture. "I'll see what I can do. Please wait here."

In a few minutes I was walking down the long, dimly lit corridor, accompanied by several nurses. I had never been more scared in my life, I could feel my heartbeat pounding against my ears as my blood rushed through my veins as if I were about to jump off the top of the Empire State Building.

When one of the nurses stopped near the door to what I assumed was your medical room, I took a deep breath and closed my eyes for a few seconds. No, I was not prepared for what awaited me behind that door, but was it possible to be prepared at all?

Suffocating, I managed to open the door and walked in, all my insides tightened the moment I saw you lying on the hospital bed, your face looked so peaceful, even with the oxygen mask on, you were like a sleeping beauty.

At first I didn't know what to do, so I just stood by the door for a while, and only then did I dare to approach your small, motionless form. Cautiously, as if afraid to wake you up, I sat down next to your bed and I thought my eyes were already beginning to water.

"Hello, dear." I murmured sadly, slowly running my hand along the edge of the bed. "I... I'm here now, and everything's going to be okay. I promise you."

I felt stupid because I knew you couldn't hear me, but still, my urge to assure you that everything would be fine didn't seem strange to me. I brushed away a single tear that ran down my cheek, which you always loved to stroke, and looked at your face, wishing for a moment that I could remove this mask and press my lips to yours. I damned myself for not doing it more often when you were around. God, why did I always have to be so stubborn and arrogant?

"(Y/n), you've always been so kind to me, and you've never asked for anything in return… and I probably didn't appreciate it as much as I should have." I paused when my trembling hand found yours, and then I stared down at it. Every time I noticed how tiny your palm was compared to mine, it made something inside of me quiver.

Cursing myself, I sobbed pathetically and squeezed your hand. "And you never tried to change me or fix me, you accepted me as I am, but... but you never knew what terrible things I did! Jesus!" I was getting hysterical, but now I could no longer hide my emotions. Hateress cursed through my body, burning me like a glowing iron.

"I'm sorry, I'm so fucking sorry that I wasn't completely open with you! I just didn't want you to know all the shit I've done in my fucking life!" As I continued to confess, both my arms now wrapped around your fragile frame, I laid my head on your chest, feeling your steady breathing. "Please don't go... I can't do this alone."

The beeping of the medical equipment mixed with my own whimpering, and the whole word seemed to be reduced to this small medical room, where a psycho like me was drowning in the swamp of grief.

"Maybe I'm a sick guy, but I need you more than I ever imagined," I gritted my teeth in disgust. "God damn it! I'm so fucking selfish, even now I only think about myself... I'm so fucking—"

The sound of the door opening made me almost choke. Hesitantly, I fixed my disheveled hair and wiped away my tears before turning around to see a guy who was probably a doctor, and I expected nothing but the worst. When I noticed his relaxed expression, I frowned and almost pleaded:

"Tell me she's going to be okay."

The doctor paused and looked through the papers in his hands. "According to our tests, we expect her condition to get better in a few days."

A small drop of sweat fell from my forehead the moment I heard those words. With a sigh of relief, I quickly got up from the chair and stumbled over to the doctor.

"Thank you," I managed to say, trying to shake his hand, but my body did not seem to listen to me. "If you need anything, let me know. I'll do everything I can."

The doctor nodded. I sat next to you again and mumbled that you were going to be okay. The way I was talking reminded me of the times when you couldn't sleep, and I lulled you by telling you stories where we would run away and finally be alone together. In the end, that would happen, I wouldn't let anything take that away from us, and even if I had to go to hell, I would do it.

"I'll always be here, love," I murmured, kissing the top of your palm. "Please come back."

One of the reasons I was really proud of my apartment was the view, even if it didn't overlook the park, you loved it and that was all that mattered.

Trapped in my thoughts, I stood next to the wide window in my living room and watched the night city through the open blinds. I could still feel your sweet scent on my skin, I could still hear the lewd sounds of us making love just a moment ago. Smiling, I closed my eyes and returned to the pleasurable images in my head, even though you were only a few feet away, lying in my big bed, I already missed you, but I would never tell you that.

I didn't know how long I stayed like this, but when I noticed your half-naked figure in the doorway of my bedroom, I gasped because I couldn't resist how beautiful you were, especially when you looked at me like that, with your deer-like, devoted eyes.

"Can't sleep?" You asked me, yawning a little and hugging yourself.

I grinned again, hiding my hands in the pockets of my gray sweatpants. "I'm just trying to understand why do you find this view so special," I crooned in a seductive voice. "But since you're awake, maybe you'll explain it to me?"

You gave me a mischievous grin, and I didn't even have to beckon you over as you slowly approached me, wrapped your elegant arms around my torso, and I purred in response. I didn't really like hugs, but when it came to YOU, it was a different story.

"Well, usually at night you can see some shooting stars," you murmured, still pressed against my chest. "And every time it happens, I make a wish."

For God's sake! Your naivety and innocence always struck a chord in my heart, making me grin like an idiot, though I was glad you couldn't see me right now, as I held you close, stroking your back and breathing in your scent, which had become so tranquilizing to me.

"Oh! Look!" You suddenly exclaimed, moving closer to the window. "A falling star!"

"Where?"

"Right there!" You took my hand and pointed to the spot in the midnight sky.

I laughed, admiring how excited you were, sometimes I thought you would never grow up and that was something cute, I could even say I was really jealous because I never allowed myself to act like that.

"Patrick, we should make a wish!"

"Like what?"

"Just think of something that you want to come true," you continued to bubble, frowning a bit as you probably were thinking about the list of wishes you might have. "Think, Patrick!"

Your childish attitude made me sigh as I rolled my eyes. "All right, all right. I want this moment to last forever."

"Why did you say that out loud?" You suddenly grumbled and broke out of my embrace. "It won't work if you say your wish out loud, didn't you know that?"

"Honestly, I don't believe in such things," I moved closer to hug you again, but you pushed me away jokingly, your pretty lips pouted. "Oh, honey, c'mon! I can't take this seriously!"

"Then I'll leave you here alone to think about it." You stuck out your tongue teasingly and slowly moved away from me.

"Besides, I already have everything I want," I chuckled smugly, feeling a bit turned on by the way you swayed your hips. "You know what I mean."

"Maybe..." You purred, making your voice sound even more seductive, before disappearing into the darkness behind me.

Only with you did I realize that I had always lived for emotions, that I had done so many terrible things because I was a sucker for the adrenaline. And you were my strongest addiction, but not one that killed, but one that freed me from my fears, my demons, my sins.

Shaking slightly, I let out a loud gasp as I felt a searing pain cut me from the inside like a fan of knives. Then I turned back to the window and saw my own reflection. I blinked several times, feeling the tears weeping in my empty eyes.

"(Y/n)?" When I called your name and no one answered, I almost fell to my knees.

My wounded heart started to bleed, as once again I was alone. Sobbing, I pressed my head against the cold glass and let the tears flow freely down my cheeks. And there was nothing left for me to do but hold on to the warm memories of those days.

The days when you were here with me.

P.S. Thank you for reading until the end! I don’t have a taglist. You can follow my side blog @makeyoumineagain and turn on notifications to know when I update!

#american psycho #patrick bateman x reader #patrick bateman imagine #patrick bateman #patrick bateman x female reader #patrick bateman x you #slasher x reader #slashers x reader #slasher x you #patrick bateman headcanon #christian bale smut #christian bale x reader #patrick bateman reader #christian bale

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kxxkiecxre · 2 years

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╰┈➤ Friend - Zone | Kim Taehyung.

✎PAIRING: Kim Taehyung x Fem! Reader

✎SUMMARY: he’s got money to spend, and you’re right there. Sitting all pretty for him.

✎WARNINGS: unprotected penetrative sex(wrap it before you tap it!), dom!tae, sub!reader, oral (f&M receiving), fWB,overstimulation, titty licking because he’s obsessed with her breasts, spoiled reader, unintentional sugar daddy tae.

Unedited as I was falling asleep while writing this lol

He’s so hot, and he knows it. That fucker knows exactly what he does to you, because there’s absolutely no reason for him to be sitting across you looking into your eyes with heavy lids, clearly sexually frustrated. You’re not sure why though, was it the skimpy little silky red dress? Or was it the black lace adorning the hems of it, laying perfectly against your chest? Perhaps it was your wavy dark hair? No, could it be your siren gaze? Or maybe it was the way your foot left your black louboutin, dragging itself up his leg and resting in between his thighs. Glancing down, he could see the diamond glazed fish nets, and fuck, did it drive him absolutely crazy.

You were evil for this. Licking your pretty peachy lips, caramel skin glistening under the low lighting of the fancy restaurant your friends decided on. But he wasn’t any better, sitting across you in his all black slacks. Black button up, sleeves rolled up to show off his gold Rolex perhaps? First few buttons undone, revealing his chest. He was dressed black head to toe aside from that damned stupid watch. Fuck.

Smirking as secretly at him as you can, you sucked onto the straw of your cocktail, enjoying the slight burn of the drink. He swallowed, licking his bottom lip as he pocked his cheek with his tongue. His hand, the one with the damned watch, disappeared under the table, fingers gently skimming your clothed skin. Earning an unexpected gasp of you.

“Everything okay?” Jungkook leaned over to you, concern prominent in his voice.

“Everything is perfect.”

Brows furrowing for a second, he shrugged, turning back to the rest of the group as taehyung continued to gaze at you confidently, challenging you in a sense as his long finger hooked into one of the holes of your fishnets, bare finger on your hot skin. What an incredibly hot asshole.

Blinking gently, you smirked brazenly.

“Kook? Would you mind taking me home, I’ve had a few drinks I really wouldn’t want to risk going out anywhere by myself.” You called out to Jungkook, eyes never daring to leave taehyungs darkened ones.

“Of course-“

“That’s okay kook, I’ll bring her home since I’m going anyway.”

Once again Jungkooks brows furrowed cutely, and you felt bad for the poor boy, “are you okay with that Y/N?”.

“Yes kookie, I’ll be fine.” You smiled at him sweetly. Getting up out of your seat as taehyungs hand laid on the small of your back, urging you to walk forward.

You couldn’t help it. Being a tease like this was only the result of his own actions. Him flirting with that overly beautiful waitress, and you getting jealous. It didn’t make sense, because to everyone else, the pair of you were just best friends. And though it didn’t actually give you any certain kind of dibs, he was fucking you on a down low. Every day, every night, every morning. It’s not like he was yours to claim, or like you actually had the right of be jealous, because he wasn’t anything more than that. Sex.

Sure he was your best friend, but you can’t claim your best friend as your own. Unless of course, you’re in a relationship on the low-low. Sure friends with benefits is a thing, but it’s no real relationship. Just sex. It’s not like you don’t think Tae was relationship worthy, because he was. If anything he’s one of those guys you hear women dream of, but you? You were nothing but a girl who loved living in the moment, you loved skimpy clothes and loud music. You loved cold alcoholic drinks on a private jet, and enjoyed the luxury life.

Could you afford the luxury life by yourself? No. Could your best friend? Yes.

It’s not like you were using him, you never intended for him to spend his money on you. That’s the last thing you wanted. But somehow, you went from fucking, to cuddling, to being with each other twenty four seven, which essentially meant Taehyung got attached, meaning everywhere tae went, you had to follow. Private restaurant boots, expensive little dresses, a whole rack of louboutins. Handbags ranging from Chanel to Moncler. Pearls of all colours and sizes, gold watches, Swarovski’s finest cut diamond necklaces. Anything you laid your eyes on, taehyung bought it.

Matter of fact, this little dress your wearing, he bought it. A Vera wang creation you set your eyes on right after he fucked you in the backseat of his car in a parking lot. How classy.

Taehyung only wanted what’s best for you, as someone who means the world to him. As someone who he sees marrying in the future. God he loved you so much. He wasn’t sure wether that was reciprocated, though it didn’t necessarily matter so long as you were by his side. Friends with benefits or not. He didn’t care. You could have all his money, all his cars, everything you wanted. You had access to all of his cars, each day you could drive any one of them. You had the key to his house, some of your stuff in his closet. Basically very domestic, just not labelled.

Money was never a big thing for taehyung, he’s had enough of it to last a lifetime. Which meant he only needed someone to spend it other than himself, and then you came along, and he immediately knew his worth became yours. Every two weeks on the dot, he’d hand you his card, and have his driver bring you to your nail appointments. Every couple months he’d ask you if you wanted to do something new with your hair, and as of recently he went as far as to ask if you genuinely loved the little wooden cabin in the forest you saw on the internet, the very next day bringing you a confirmation letter of buying it in your name.

So that brings you here, hollowing your cheeks as you let him use your mouth however he pleased. It wasn’t that you felt like you had to do it, no. You wanted him to do it, you needed him to do it. You genuinely believed you wouldn’t survive it if he didn’t touch your body in some way. You loved having him use your body, and you loved him in general. It was a win-win situation.

“Fuck baby,” he grunted, pulling himself out of your mouth, “on the bed love spread your legs for me.”

Like the obedient girl you are, you laid on the bed, left in nothing but your Swarovski diamond clustered fishnets, legs wide open for him as he crawled up the bed menacingly. Staring at your clothed pussy hungrily, like a starved man. He could see the little wet patch against the material of your red thong and it drove him wild.

Taehyung was a man of patience for many things, but not in this case. His patience always seemed to be on the whim when it came to getting a taste of you, which is what lead him to ripping the expensive yet extremely fragile material to shreds. Exposing a large enough hole around your pussy. His finger hooked into the material of the thong, pulling it to the side.

Almost like he was making out, he sucked into each lip of your pussy with a mouthful of sugar. So sweet and gentle, absolutely devouring your pussy whole. His tongue ran laps up, from the bottom to the top. Flicking little motions upwards onto your clit as you began to sign, his tongue alternating between sucking and flicking, building a pace of movement, a rhythm. It was insane how fast he could get you breathless, hands desperately clutching onto the sheets of his bed.

His finger slipped inside your seeping hole, god you could feel yourself dripping down your ass, surely making a mess of his sheets. With his mouth suckling on your clit, tongue flicking your nub and finger pushing in and out of you, you were moaning like your life depended on it.

“Tae fuck,” your sighs were so sweet, so high pitched and breathy god he loved it.

His finger hooked inside you, picking up his pace as your hips began moving against his mouth, begging for your sweet, divine release, “shit please just fuck me tae.”

“Impatient hm?” He chuckled, kissing his way from your pussy to your throat, sucking sweet little spots of bruise here and there.

“Make me cum baby” you held his face in your hands, staring deeply in his dark eyes.

“Ah don’t do this to me beautiful” his forehead rested against yours, hand tugging on his hard cock.

Both of your eyes focused on his dick, the way it rubbed up and down your wet pussy, foreheads still pressed against each other and your hand still resting around the back of his head. Slowly, he pushed the tip in. Looking at your reaction as he bottomed out, eyes shutting tightly as you gasped, fingers tangling in his long locks. He swore he’s never seen a more beautiful and majestic creature like you. No human, anything, could ever amount to the beauty you hold for him. You were his everything.

He took his time with you, thrusting slowly in and out, building you up as you cling onto him, one of your legs rested against his waist, deepening the angle of his thrusts. He started building it up, going faster, his thrusts somehow reaching deeper each time he dragged out and back inside. He could see himself inside you, kissing your cervix each time he came back inside. It was amazing. Just how well your bodies connected.

A few more thrusts of his quick and ruthless thrusts and you were arching into him, moaning his name like a chant, nails dragging around his back as you came. He chased his high right after you, thrusts becoming sloppy as he finally let go. Face nuzzled in your neck as you ran your fingers through his hair. It was peaceful, serene.

“Wanna go on a cruise with me?” He asked, kissing your neck softly.

“Sure why not” you giggled as he started pecking your face all over.

“As my girlfriend” he followed up, your eyes widening, unsure if you heard him correctly.

“As your girlfriend?”

“Yes”

“Tae, are you messing with me?”

“No baby, I want to do everything with you… as my girlfriend. Wife. Whatever. I just want you to be mine.”

Smiling to yourself, you hold his face in your hands, staring deeply in his eyes, “of course baby, but pull out of me now we need to shower. We reek of sex.”

He smirks at you, pulling out and drawing a hiss from both of you from the overstimulation,

“I love shower sex.”

AN: y’all better help me figure out how to end Drabbles because I’m always lost lol.

No recreation, translation or copying of any form of my works is permitted!!

MASTERLIST

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succubusonthedoorstep · 2 years

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ɴᴇɪɢʜʙᴏʀ!ʟᴇᴠɪ ᴀᴄᴋᴇʀᴍᴀɴ x ꜰᴇᴍ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 1.1k

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: Levi's huge crush, suggestive content, explicit language, heavy flirting, love bites, grinding, he steals your shorts and panties, biting, infidelity, nipple pinching, headcanon format! (Read part two here!)

Neighbor!Levi who moves in a year after you. Spotting him with cardboard boxes while tending to the community garden, you gave a small wave and tried not to stare too hard at his biceps. He acknowledged you with a small nod.

Neighbor!Levi who stares at your butt while you’re bending down to inspect your tulips. The curve of your ass in those shorts had him running upstairs and back down so he wouldn’t miss you leaving.

Neighbor!Levi who introduces himself like a gentleman as you’re closing the garden gate and locking it. His hand is warm and he shakes it for longer than expected, but you’re too caught up in his conversation to notice.

“Do you take care of all this yourself?”

“No, Mrs. Chisholm helps when she can. She’s taking it easy these days, though.”

He frowned and released your hand, leaving it colder than before.

“If I can plant something here, I’ll help you care for them.”

Neighbor!Levi who knew he was gonna help you anyway. There was nothing that could stand between him and his fixation with his endearing neighbor. The smile you gave him confirmed his place in the garden and he gaped at your hips swaying as you walked back to your corner apartment. You went upstairs, passed several doors, and opened the one next to his.

Neighbor!Levi, whose heart drops to his stomach at the sight of you peeking back at him as your door shuts. He watches a pink light flicker on before stuffing his hands in his pockets and striding upstairs.

After talking for the next few days, Neighbor!Levi catches on to your tricks. He’s getting familiar with your collection of shorts and already has a favorite- the mini ones that you sleep in, first catching them in the morning when you’re stepping out onto your balcony.

Neighbor!Levi watches your breasts peek out from the tank top you have on as you lean over the railing to chat with him. The gray sweatpants he has on does little to hide the growing bulge between his legs and he didn’t bother to wear a shirt to greet the warm morning, but you weren’t complaining. The thin gold chain that he wore to bed drew your eyes to his collarbone and had you licking your lips at the thoughts it brought.

Neighbor!Levi finds himself inviting you over brunch, calling it a “favor for finding a place for me.” He doesn’t have to tidy much but a few dishes in the sink, but he finds himself adjusting the pillows on his bed anyway. He tried telling himself it was redundant, but it did little to settle the hopes he had.

Neighbor!Levi opens his door and finds you looking stunning, though you argued there was nothing special about the leggings and t-shirt combo you were sporting. He only rolled his eyes and allowed you in.

“You decorate well, Levi. A woman’s touch?”

If only you knew. The only woman Levi had the mind to touch felt far no matter how close she may be.

“Not a lot of women coming in and out of here,” he remarked. “I don’t have time for ‘em.”

“Oh? What do you do for work that makes you so busy?”

“I…” he pulled a flat pan out from a cabinet, setting it on the stove. “I have a small business with my friends.”

Neighbor!Levi’s little white lie was enough to convince you. The blooming orchids in a vase and glassware in his china cabinet showcased the successes of his career- the men you dated before couldn’t afford the Rolexes you spotted him in, let alone this apartment’s rent.

Neighbor!Levi let you take the reins, assisting wherever you needed him. Forgot an egg for your crepes? He was already there with another one. Needed to put on your apron? He dug one out of his pantry and looped it around your neck, walking around you to tie it.

Neighbor!Levi feels you lean back on his hard body, your ass pressing into his dick print. You’re impossible to resist anymore- he needs a taste. His mouth connects with your neck, tongue skillfully finding a sensitive spot. Your moans echoed off his walls, head tilting to give him more space to work.

Neighbor!Levi’s big hands trail into your shirt to cup your tits, giving them a few languorous squeezes that had your nipples hardening under the fabric. “Juuust like that,” he encouraged between kisses, the praise leading directly into your panties. “Push that ass back on me, you know what to do.”

Neighbor!Levi pulled down the cup of your bra to pinch your nipple and pull it slightly. The purple love bites blooming on your skin made his heart melt, and in his needy haze, Levi bit at your neck.

Neighbor!Levi feels you jump in surprise, spilling the crepe batter onto his apron and your house shoes.

“Shit…” he grumbled, pulling away to help you clean up. “I’m sorry- I got carried away… your shoes-“

“It’s fine, they were pretty old,” you chimed in, slipping the ruined apron from your body. “Could you go into my apartment and get my other ones? They should be in my room by the closet.”

Neighbor!Levi nods and leaves, shutting the door behind him quietly. What was he thinking? He was usually much more clear in his thoughts and actions, but you managed to wrap around his head like a cloud. He spends his short walk from his apartment and into yours brooding over what just happened. It felt amazing for him- the bulge in his pants could tell you that without words. He was positive you knew, a sentiment that lightened the weight in his heart.

Neighbor!Levi navigates your home easily as the layouts were nearly identical.

Neighbor!Levi finds your room and enters, his eyes landing directly on the pink velvet sleep shorts hanging out of your hamper. He reached for them and held them up, imagining your ass hanging out of them while you lay in bed. A matching pair of hot pink panties were inside of the shorts, and Levi felt his cock twitch.

Neighbor!Levi stuffs the fabric into the band of his sweats. Snatching the house shoes from the floor and nearly running out of the bedroom, he stopped abruptly in his tracks.

Neighbor!Levi could only stare at the framed pictures sitting on your dresser- pictures of you with a tall brunette from last Valentine’s day.

Like + Reblog! Tysm for reading! ₊‧°𐐪♡𐑂°‧₊

Part two is out on Valentine’s Day!

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roeroe-world · 4 months

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harlem world. (paid in full edition)

starring: laparriea as astrid, mekhi phifer as mitch

set in the mid to late 1980s.

warning(s): harsh language, use of marijuana, very detailed explicit smut, adult situations

Loud rap music blares loudly throughout the crowded block. Conversations and laughter being shared between individuals. It seems live, a block party but specifically for a certain group of people.

Everyone looked like money, incredibly flashy. Dressed in the finest furs, MCM coats, Rolexes, diamond and gold jewelry, Dapper Dan fashions. Sports cars, specifically Mercedes Benz’s were parked in the area— right in front of food joint, Willie’s Burger.

Pagers beeped at a constant rate in the atmosphere, alluring black and brown women flooding the social space as the men spit game— in the meanwhile exuding arrogance yet confidence ‘cause they know they got it like that.

If you were here, it was a significant reminder that you made it.

Almost every dude in the hoods of Harlem wished to be in the shoes of those who were able to make it to that level. The women, the clothes, the jewelry, the cars, the money, the love. Not many could achieve that level of success in the hood but if you did… you were that nigga.

“Nah, b. I was rockin’ Gucci before all of y’all niggas. Y’all just catchin’ the wave. Nah’ mean?”

The New York accents were severely heavy, ranging through the air. Often banging their fists into the palm of their hands or slapping their palms together, speaking with their hands as they get their points across. Stacks of money being tossed into the air.

The women were fly but in Mitch’s eyes, they had absolutely nothing on her.

Leaning on the hood of the cherry red BMW Ace gifted him— his pools of brown softly pierces at the side profile of the captivating young woman standing spaces afar from where he stood.

Her skin a perfect shade of brown, an ebony goddess. Eyes slanted, lashes curly and luscious. Cheekbones sitting high and mighty. Lips painted a bright shade of red, complimenting her skin tone.

Jet black tresses curled to perfection, pausing above her waist.

She was fly, a gray fur coat upon her frame. Bamboo heart shaped earrings amongst her ears, bouncing with every movement she made. A lollipop resting in her mouth.

The woman stood between another man’s legs, smiling in his face. Meanwhile, Mitch had a woman in his arms as she smiles in his face just as bright as hers— failing to attempt to keep his undivided attention on her. She follows his eyes, instantaneously growing upset the second she sets her eyes on the scene.

With an eye roll, she kisses her teeth before sending a rough shove to his shoulder and walking off with a switch in her hips.

Mitch’s eyebrows furrow in slight irritation at the woman’s sudden actions yet watches her hips for a moment then returns his gaze onto the beauty. Without wasting another second, he makes his way over.

Her short French tip manicure caresses the gold Jesus piece hanging around the man’s neck. Pearly whites being showcased as she converses with the male, beginning to caress his low beard and stare in his direction in pure infatuation yet lust.

She seems engulfed into his presence until Mitch made his presence very known.

“Astrid…” That familiar tone of voice, his dialect meets her eardrums causing her to nearly melt. Her head nearly snapping in his direction but she maintains her composure. “How’s it goin’, baby? You missed me?”

Their eyes connecting, a knowing smirk upon both of their canvases, “How’s it goin’, Mitch? I heard you were out.” Intentionally, she avoids his questions given they were being listened to and watched.

“Mitch. What’s happenin’ baby?” Dash quizzes, pulling the woman closer in his arms. His pools of brown searching upward and downward upon the man, wondering what he wanted. Already aggravated by his presence.

Astrid grasps the opportunity of analyzing Mitch’s frame, subtly admiring how fly he looked while her current companion tries to spark up a conversation.

Mitch glances the male up and down, letting out a slight comical laugh. “I’m livin’, b. I’m livin’…” His gaze averting onto the beauty. “This your mans now, huh?” His tone full of amusement and jealousy but he kept it cool, pointing in the male’s direction. Despite being bitter about the situation.

Her smile slightly drops, chuckling nervously. Before she could respond, Dash stands to his feet completely, gently forcing Astrid’s body behind his frame— no longer leaning on the side of his Benz. His hands folding in front of his frame. “Yeah, I’m her nigga now. What the fuck about it?” He steps to him fearlessly, their pools of brown piercing into one another’s intensely. There was no more playing nice.

The two men began to have a face off, staring in each other’s faces in silence. Pure hatred filling their brown orbs. They didn’t know each other quite well but they knew of each other around the way. Mitch couldn’t say he never liked him before but that’s all changed. He despises him now.

“Fuck out of my face, mothafucka.” Mitch sends him a mean mug, glancing over Dash’s shoulder. His attention falling upon a speechless Astrid. “Let me know when you ready to fuck with a real nigga again.” He marches away from the scene, pushing through the crowd and ignoring the stares.

Dash sends the air a kick of anger. “Kick fuckin’ rocks, you punk ass nigga. Get the fuck outta here. The fuck is he talkin’ about again? Fuck is he talkin’ bout, yo.”

Astrid waves him off, sending him an eye roll, “I’m ready to go. Take me home.” Her leather high heeled boots clicking against the pavement as she walks to the passenger side of his vehicle.

The male stood there, staring at the woman while clenching his jaw to maintain his composure. His fists tightening at his sides, lips completely sealed to refrain from saying something he would ultimately regret.

She sends him a look, “Dash?” With the simple harsh summon of his name, he pulls up his jeans before furiously marching to the driver’s side of his Benz and forcing the door open.

Dash speeds off the sidewalk, Astrid sitting in the passenger side. “Yo, what the fuck—” Her head resting in the palm of her hand, a heavy stressful sigh passing her lips while the male began to start an explosive argument with her.

Mitch overhears the commotion, observing the drop top speed off with a head shake. He takes a pull of the lit blunt in his hand, choosing to sit in his vehicle instead.

————

Humming to herself, Astrid wipes the kitchen table. Her natural tresses swinging in the high ponytail upon her head with every step she takes. She began to wipe the counters. The television playing softly in the background from the living room of her two bedroom spacious apartment.

She’d spent most of the day cleaning, resetting her space. Rearranging picture frames, furniture, tossing out belongings that she no longer needs.

It was just one of those days.

These past couple of weeks has been pretty rough for the young woman. Work as well as her personal life kept her overstimulated. She was in need of a reset. And as the saying goes, ‘Cleanliness is next to Godliness.’

Three lovely knocks meets her door earning a sigh of pure annoyance from the woman. Honestly, she’s in no mood to deal with people at the moment.

Kissing her teeth at the sight in the peephole, she cracks the door open halfway, “You got some damn nerve showing up here, Mitch.” His smile drops the moment he catches the stern expression on her face. She doesn’t appear too ecstatic to see him.

“What, baby? I can’t come see you no more?”

Mitch remained persistent since that night of chaos and pettiness. Days at a time, he would send flowers and make efforts to talk to her but she would blow him off. Though, Astrid could tell he’s working to the best of his ability to be back in her good graces again.

“Why do you keep bothering me?” Her head tilts to the side in irritation yet amusement.

“Why you actin’ like that? That nigga Dash in here or somethin’?” He tries to get a good look inside and fails severely as she prepares to slam the door in his face. “First of all, Dash isn’t my father. Two, I never forgot how foul you did me. Don’t think ‘cause you been locked up that I bumped my head and caught amnesia.”

His facial expression softens. Unfortunately, she’s absolutely right. She wouldn’t have forgotten his mistakes and his wrongdoings. Astrid is far from stupid and he wouldn’t exactly expect her to be easy on him yet that doesn’t stop him from trying.

“Yo, Astrid?” He began. She sighs already knowing he’s gonna feed her the same bullshit she used to fall for. “I know I fucked up, aight? I’m just tryna… I’m righting my wrongs. When I was locked down all I thought about was you, how much I missed you—”

“You ain’t waste no time to go back to hustling. Did you?” The woman interrupts him, no longer in the mood to hear any more lovey dovey shit. His silence proves her right, encouraging her to utter, “Exactly.”

“We all gotta eat. I can’t take care of you with no bread, baby. You know that?”

“I ain’t knocking your hustle. Do you what you gotta do. Besides, I’m so sick of you niggas tellin’ me y’all can take care of me and buy me this— buy me that. I can already do all that myself.” She argues. Frustration fueling her veins.

Mitch isn’t the first nor the last hustler she’s dated. Most of them were arrogant and made money their entire personality, she dreaded men that way. More often, they couldn’t treat her right.

They treated her more like a trophy, a possession. But Mitch…

“I know that.” He laughs slightly, leaning against the doorframe. “I know you make your own money but so do I and I like spending it on you. That shit ain’t gon’ change.” His gaze deep and passionate as he admires her natural beauty.

Their pools of brown flowing into one another’s intensely, “I’ve been such a bitch to you and you still won’t leave me alone?”

“Nah. I’m used to way worse.”

Mitch was different than the others.

Minus the issues of their relationship. She couldn’t deny how much of a passionate lover Mitch was. What they had was natural, never a lick of anything superficial. He treated her like his woman, not a possession.

She sends an eye roll, unable to fight her laughter. “Whatever, boy. What you want? I’m in the middle of something right now.” She lies straight through her teeth. Her apartment is practically clean.

“To take you out to eat. That’s it. I’ll bring you back home. No funny business.”

Looking him up and down, her tongue sliding against the side of her mouth, “Fine.” She gives in. “No funny business.” The beauty sending him a slight stern look but he could recognize her walls were slowly crumbling apart.

“Aight.” He remains nonchalant, fighting his smile yet not taking his eyes off of her.

————

“Oh, wow.” Analyzing the inside of the restaurant, she fights her smile but eventually loses. “This is where we had our first date.” The restaurant was all too familiar to her. In fact, it began to bring back memories. Memories she and Mitch shared. It was apart of their history.

His lips forming into a charismatic smile, he replies, “Yeah. You remember?”

She doesn’t respond, allowing him to take her hand and lead her to their appointed table. “I was tryna impress you…” He tells her, his mind traveling back to that day. Suddenly, every detail began rushing through their minds.

They take a seat but instead of a regular table, the duo were seated at a booth unlike the last time. The second his arm sits upon her shoulder to pull her warm body closer to his, her gaze meets his hand before she sends him a look, “Don’t think everything is cool now ‘cause you did all of this. Remember you left me at my lowest, Mitch.” It seems as if he’s getting too comfortable.

A sigh escaping his throat, “I—”

“What can I get you two to drink?” The waiter unintentionally interrupts the male, glancing between the two unknowingly. “Just get us a bottle of Champagne.” He doesn’t even bother to look in the waiter’s direction, observing the young woman peering across the restaurant.

Her naturally long jet black tresses were pinned into an updo, exposing her captivating canvas. Even when she’s mad, she’s gorgeous.

The second the waiter saunters off, he summons her name, “Astrid?”

He didn’t understand her mood swings. Everything seemed cool in the car on the way here. Yet, she switched up on him that quick. It began to stress the male out. His patience was beginning to wane.

Her head turns to face him, glancing at his lips to his pools of brown, “Mitch?” She crosses her arms. “I lost our baby. The least you could’ve done was be there for me.”

The sudden mention of the miscarriage made him sit back, the subject made his entire demeanor change. His attention averting away from the woman seated on the side of his being.

“I wanted to be there for you but I got knocked. You know that.”

“Of course, I know. I also know that you don’t give a fuck about anybody but yourself. It’s you before anybody.”

“Yo, what?” His facial expression curls upward, head tilting backward in pure offense. “You know that ain’t true, Astrid. The miscarriage hurt me too. I tried to be the best support system I could be. Fuck, I got knocked. The fuck could I do from jail?” He manages to keep his voice down but others seated amongst the duo sensed the tension. “How long you gonna punish me, yo? I’m trying.”

Astrid doesn’t respond, keeping her lips sealed before uttering something she would regret. She couldn’t see past her anger nor her hurt to hear him out. She keeps her gaze ahead, fighting her tears.

“What I also know is that you ain’t pay me not one visit— you ain’t answer my phone calls nor did you write me back when I was in the joint. Let’s talk about that, huh?”

Scoffing, her head shaking side to side, “Take me home, Mitch.”

He watches her scoot out of the booth, angrily strutting past their table. At this point, they were earning stares. The waiter returns to the scene in confusion, the bottle of Champagne in hand.

“Send it back. We don’t need it.”

Despite not being able to have a drink nor a meal, he leaves a fat tip on the table and gets out of the booth. Disappointment and aggravation clouding over his frame.

————

The car ride was severely silent. The wind blowing against both of their canvases and Astrid’s hair as Mitch’s drop top was down. Slow jams filling the space between the two as they snuck occasional glances at one another. They hadn’t uttered a single word to each other since their small disagreement at the restaurant.

Pride was eating at the both of them, resulting in the two to keep their lips sealed. Though, they had so much to say. So much pent up.

Parking in front of the apartment building, Astrid immediately reaches for the door. “Don’t you dare touch that door.” His voice meets her eardrums and she sits back, letting out a deep sigh.

The male gets out of the vehicle first, waltzing to the other side to open the door for the woman. Her gaze averts upward in his direction, their eyes connecting as she hops out. He breaks it before shutting the door behind her being.

Connecting their hands, “You got any business to take care of tonight?” She quizzes, a glint in her eye.

“Maybe.” He replies smartly.

“Put it on hold.” His eyebrow raising at the woman’s demand. “I need you to take care of me right now.”

Her head buries into the crook of his neck, planting sensual kisses while traveling to his jawline— soon came his lips. Their lips connect into a soft union, growing fervent as time progresses.

Each breath one let out, the other sucked in. Pink wet muscles dancing with one another hungrily, ardent. Their heart beat racing as neither of the two struggled to keep up. They matched each other’s energy perfectly.

The young woman disconnects their lips, Mitch pursues for more— his low bedroom eyes piercing deeply downward into hers but she tilts her head backward. Patience is a virtue. Instead, maintains the tight grip on his hand and leads him inside of her apartment building.

The night is still young.

The second they step foot inside of her apartment, Mitch was on the woman like white on rice. He pins her hands above her head against the wall, tonguing her down as if his life depended upon it.

It began to grow hot, extremely hot. The humid temperature led to the pair ripping off their clothes, completely bare and sweaty.

He was in absolute control as he wasted no more time to enter her wanting, dripping crevice. “O-Oh shit!” His hips circling into hers deeply, passionately. His pools of brown pouring deep into hers, her legs tightening around his waist so she couldn’t fall out of his tight hold.

Astrid’s head falls against the wall, mouth hanging agape. Pleasure clouds her lust filled brain daze. Neither of two could think clearly, lost in the world of fire and desire.

She took whatever he offered like a good girl, screaming to the top of her lungs. Her once neat apartment began to get messy as their sexcapades grew wilder, their body parts knocking over whatever is in their way. They were like animals, ravishing their prey which happens to be one another.

All this time of being apart, not with one another when they’ve been longing to be in this position. Yet, they were, in multiple positions indeed.

The pent up anger and frustration increased their stamina. Hours they went on, experiencing orgasms at an exhausting rate, not for once becoming tired of one another. In fact, the couple was dedicated to showcase their talents. It became more of a competition, a challenge. So far, Mitch had the upper hand, fucking her so good that it brought her to tears.

“Oh, fuck me, fuck me, fuck me!” Her squeals high-pitched and deafening.

“You like that shit?” Mitch’s voice deep and rough, roaring throughout the apartment. His gold chain dangling in her face.

They talked their shit, mouths uttering nothing but pure filth that they were in dire need of having their mouths washed out with soap. Astrid left him tongue tied with her tricks but it wouldn’t be long before he would outshine her which he did. Every single fucking time. The neighbors being the least of their concerns.

At times, Astrid would try to be as quiet as she could. But she couldn’t, especially when she was trying to prove that he isn’t getting the best of her when indeed he is. He left her screaming, creaming, crying for the most high.

“Fuckkkk…” She cries out into the atmosphere. French tip acrylics dragging along his sweaty chest, needy watery eyes peering upward in the male’s direction. Legs cracked open widely. Desperate for more as if her aching pussy isn’t being fed enough as is.

The couch shook violently. The harsh sounds of skin slapping surrounds the humid living room. Mitch’s grip upon her shaky thighs were tight so she wouldn’t escape, her nectar flowing through her cavern excessively curating loud squelching sounds. Both of their gazes occasionally glancing at where their bodies met, the pair feeling the intense passion.

“Fuck, I love you.” The woman babbles drunkenly though she isn’t under any kind of influence. “I love you, Mitch. Don’t ever leave me again.” Tears cascading along her mahogany cheeks.

His top row of pearly whites sinks into his plump bottom lip, groaning to himself, “Fuck.” He was giving her his absolute all, an ultimately mind blowing performance. He looked incredibly sexy on top of her, sweating and panting heavily.

Astrid pulls his thick, long phallus out of her and welcomes him between her warm first pair of lips instead. Her gaze low and seductive, crawling to him upon her knees without a single complaint. Mitch’s mouth fell agape yet again for the millionth time tonight, watching her head bob up and down with much passion. Her hand twisting around his veiny hardened member all in the same note.

“Ah, shit.” He moans lowly, eyes shutting in pure pleasure for a moment. His fingers tangling within her messy tresses that sweated out due to their activities.

“Fuck, I missed you…” She sucks him off like no tomorrow, kissing and licking it as if it would be her last. “I love you too. I ain’t going no fuckin’ where, baby.” He babbles mindlessly though he meant every word he said, rocking his hips into her face. His reaction only encourages her to go harder.

Tears rolling along her face with a mouth full, grasping the opportunity of tasting her sweet honey in the process. Clearly, she isn’t trying to be pretty nor cute. But in Mitch’s eyes, she looked incredibly sexy, slurping him into cloud nine.

Her cavern throbbing for him again but she’s focused on pleasuring him, not holding back whatsoever. “Hm, I missed you.” She hums softly, going back to work. In the meanwhile, admiring the creation of his curved dick. Her tight throat welcoming him without an issue, making love to him using her tongue. Her tongue could do wonders.

She’s far from afraid of it. Her first go round, she avoided it but now she went all the way. Complete full throttle. Not once did Astrid hold back, especially tonight.

Honestly, this isn’t her thing and she didn’t do it for every guy she’s been with sexually. But for Mitch, Astrid went there and not once does she feel disgusted nor ashamed about it. It came naturally.

Then she stops, in desperate need of the sensation of him inside of her again, sitting upon his lap and sinking onto his rock hard member yet again. “Yes…” She sighs to herself, eyes rolling to the back of her skull. Mitch observing her reaction as well as her breasts, sending a harsh smack to her backside.

“Shit, I’m gonna cum. I’m gonna fucking cum.” She bounces on top of Mitch’s lap, fucking herself into oblivion. Lips falling agape as squeals and whines escapes her throat. Her hands resting on his chest.

The male sits up to bury his face into the crook of her neck, leaving love bites upon her smooth ebony skin. The throbbing, the pleasure, the pain intensifying with each passing second. Panting heavily, Mitch encourages her, “Come for me. Let that shit go.” He fucks up into her, tapping at her spot consistently, his climax quickly approaching yet again for the night.

“Mitch…” She whimpers, eyebrows furrowing together pleasurably.

A familiar sensation within the pent of her stomach approaches and she couldn’t contain it any longer. “There you go, baby.” It was as if her soul was being snatched out of her body the moment her orgasm comes crashing down upon the woman. Her legs shaking violently.

His gaze falling between their connected bodies, admiring how soaked and sloppy everything looks. She felt so good, too good.

“Oh, shit.” He groans aloud, reaching his climax as well. His tongue dragging across his lips as his arms tightens around her waist. Mitch ensures every drop of his seed meets her walls.

A moment of silence clouds the two before Astrid lets out a small laugh of disbelief, mind blown by what just occurred between the two. One thing for sure, she was far from disappointed.

————

The frying pan sizzles intensely as Astrid cracks an egg carefully to prevent any shells from falling inside. Rap music blasting from the stereo system due to Mitch turning it on before hopping in the shower.

The morning after their wild night fell and she was still on a slight high, smiling brightly whenever memories would flood her mind. It left her in a good enough mood to cook.

Whilst stirring the eggs, Mitch enters the kitchen. A towel loosely hanging from his waist. He grabs a piece of bacon from the plate off the table, taking a bite before sending a slap to her backside. Astrid slightly jumps, “Stoppp!” She drags out, blushing wildly. “You owe me for my hair appointment too.”

Previously, her tresses were all over the place. The strands were frizzy and slightly untamed. She didn’t want to deal with it so she put her hair in a ponytail which happens to be messy but it was decent for the moment.

His arms enveloping around her waist, head resting upon her shoulder. “I got you.” Lips meeting the side of her neck, planting small loving pecks along her mahogany skin.

A couple enthusiastic knocks pounds upon her door earning the couple’s attention. “Yo, Astrid, baby? It’s me. Open the door.” Dash’s booming voice is heard from the outside. A heavy sigh passing Astrid’s lips. Mitch couldn’t help but to chuckle to himself, chewing softly on the piece of bacon in his mouth.

“Don’t you start, Mitchell.” She points the spatula in the male’s direction, sitting it down amongst the counter. The male’s pools of brown trailing up and down the beauty’s petite frame as she began to walk past him.

Adjusting her silk robe, the woman unlocks and opens the door halfway to lay eyes on a grinning Dash. “What’s up? I hit you up earlier. You ain’t get my call.” He appears ecstatic to see her though Astrid couldn’t exactly say she felt the same.

Dash was a guy she liked at some point of time. She held an infatuation with his personality, also enjoyed the stacks of money he would give her just because. But Dash was just company. A man she dealt with whenever she was in the mood or bored.

Her manicured hand reaching to the side of her neck, scratching it awkwardly, “I…” She began, though she couldn’t finish her sentence.

Mitch smoothly saunters behind the woman, standing firmly and looking him dead in the eye. “She was busy.” He answers for her, making his presence very known, watching Dash’s entire demeanor change. He couldn’t lie, Mitch enjoyed seeing that dumbfounded expression upon his canvas.

“What the fuck goin’ on, Astrid? Why this wack ass nigga speakin’ to me right now?” Dash points to the male, laughing as if he’s a joke.

“She ain’t your concern no more. So whatever y’all had before is dead, my nigga. Don’t come around here no more.” The woman remains silent as Mitch speaks loud and clear. His Harlem accent strong and demanding, not a single speck of hesitation nor crack within his tone. He was quite adamant about his demands.

It wouldn’t take long for Dash to connect the dots, glancing between the two. “Yo…” Dash began in realization, lifting a fist to his mouth. “I see what this is. Aight, aight. Cool.” He maintains his composure, grinning knowingly. “I see how it is.” Though he’s highly upset, she could tell. An expression of defeat falling onto his canvas.

“So, baby, you fuckin’ with him now? Hm? That’s what we doin’? After everything I did for you, ma.” Dash lets out a calm laugh, his head nodding in quite disbelief. It was a taking a lot in him to not go off but he kept his cool. He remained nonchalant.

“Yeah, she fuckin’ with a real nigga again.” The arrogant smirk upon Mitch’s lips results in Dash’s chest to slightly heavy up and down. He so badly wanted to smack it off. “You was just somebody she was dealin’ with to kill time when I was gone. But I’m back and your time is up.”

It was no secret that Astrid and Mitch had history. Mitch didn’t play about her and that’s never changed. After he was arrested, men wasted no absolute time to make advances towards the woman— Dash being one of them. They were aware that it really wasn’t much that Mitch could do inside. Plus, Astrid is a grown woman.

But now that he’s free, he returned to reclaim what was once his and will always be.

Astrid glances between the two, holding her laughter. She wasn’t exactly expecting this interaction but she doesn’t stop it nor does she encourage it. Her silence triggers Dash.

“What he sayin’ true, Astrid?” His gaze averting onto the young woman behind his oversized clear glass frames, adjusting his black Kangol bucket hat before folding his hands in front of his frame. “I thought we had somethin’ special. You was playin’ me?”

Softly, she simply says, “Dash…” Ultimately feeling bad for him.

“You got the point? Cool. Go kick some fuckin’ rocks then, punk ass nigga.”

Mitch pulls the woman closer to his bare chest, rudely slamming the door in the male’s face and locking the door. Astrid sends him a look causing his eyebrows to furrow together, replying with, “What?” He returns to kitchen and she follows closely behind, giggling softly.

“You a fuckin’ mess.”

#black beauty #80s #paid in full #Mitch #black love #black women #black men #roeroeworld #laparriea #romance

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legalkimchi · 10 months

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Sometimes I hate the world.

So I love wristwatches. It started when I found myself working at a mall jewelry story around the recession of 2006. Staring at them for hours, I started to appreciate them. I marvel at the engineering behind them and the artistry of watches. Many luxury watches are hand made by skilled watchmakers. They are superfluous. They don't control time in any way and your phone is more accurate but I love them.

Part of collecting watches is the large portion of the watch community that buys them to flex their wealth. It's an annoying truth of it. Folks like Kevin oleary love showing off their collection of millions of dollars of watches. There are lyrics in songs about Audemar piguet, patek Phillipe and of course, rolex. (Which, by the way, is a nice watch maker but by no means the best or most expensive. They just have really good marketing...)

But that community is plagued with the same issues of any community. Racism, classism, ableism, sexism, etc. There was one time I was watching a video discussing a smaller watch and the reviewer asked "who is this for? Women? Asians?" He was making a comment on smaller wrist size. As an Asian with an above average sized wrist, I was put off by this random comment. But facing that sort of racism is pretty benign, relatively.

I saw a discussion on what is luxury in the watch world. Lots of folks like to wax poetically about it. Be to be honest, most watches are luxury products. Unnecessary pieces of jewelry. To be fair, I think that's fine, but some folks feel the need to say otherwise to defend their spending habits.

But I commented a softball. I merely said, if you have the money to buy a $400,000 watch, you probably have a moral obligation to help people with your money and not buy such a purchase. While some watches get super expensive, when you get to that level you aren't paying for an artists work, or even the gold or platinum of the watch, you are paying money to show off you are paying money. You clearly have hundreds of millions, if not billions, and should probably help people with that money.

I try not to get bullish about socialism in a hobby watch forum. I try to play nice.

But then someone had to comment about they would rather buy a luxury timepiece than "squander it on people who will be hungry tomorrow."

And I wasn't even sure how to proceed. As there are rules in the watch forum that state to be "nice" and "civil" I simply stated that the statement showcased a severe disconnect with our two moral philosophies and out of respect for the forum runners, I would not comment further.

But others joined the discussion to call out, gently, this person's ridiculous viewpoint.

And he doubled down. Saying he felt it was more a "national government" issue and that he felt it was "offensive" to give to someone in need. Stating giving to the poor keeps them poor. And he wasn't going to "gamble on layabouts."

Thankfully there was a block function.

I always try to engage with folks first with compassion and second with the benefit of the doubt.

But there was no use arguing with this vile person. It would have lead to me being thrown out of the forum (which is generally a nice place) and him still being there. Because he wouldn't attack me, just poor people. It is a common rhetorical tactic to exclude those fighting the good fight.

Just an annoying way to start my day...

#watches #socialism

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magnoliacharmed · 4 months

Text

Hurtin' But It's Happy Hour

18+, Shawn Michaels x Sycho Sid one shot

[Also available on Archive on Our Own!]

[There's also a part 1 to this-- not necessary to read before this one but here it is: Awakening]

Tags: Drunk sex, mild painplay, rough sex, jealousy (kinda), spanking, biting, rough oral sex, choking, scratching, creampie, shawn is kind of a brat

Word count: 3709

Summary:

Sid loses control himself while out at the bar with Shawn.

Shawn was feeling especially cute tonight. He took some extra time to get ready before his date-- well, not really a date… his outing with Sid. Looking in the bathroom's mirror, he shook his head from side to side to fluff his recently touched up hair. A good majority of his afternoon was spent at the salon where middle-aged women who'd never heard his name (they assumed he was one of the Chippendale's boys and he wasn't going to tell them any different) oohed-and-awed over his soft, pretty locks. Sid wasn't in the mood for the love-fest and Shawn was sure no one was going to try to kick his ass, so Sid left him to his own devices. How one man could need that much adoration and attention, Sid would never understand. As long as he didn't have to be the only one who gave it to him he was happy.

A hard succession of knocks on the hotel room door made Shawn rush out of the bathroom. According to the steady green glow of the nightstand alarm clock, his big dope of a bodyguard was ten minutes early. Didn't he know by now that Shawn needed every second of primp time? Shawn hopped around the room while he put on his black cowboy boots, searching for his shiny new gold Rolex. He had a few different expensive watches, but this one was particularly special to him. The band of smooth metal wrapped snugly around his wrist and he knew he was ready to go-- wait! The final piece of his outfit sat carefully on top of the dresser. He put it on and bounded over to the door, opening it so quickly that the wind of it made strands of it fly into his face.

"You're early."

"Yeah."

"What if I wasn't ready yet?"

"Well, you are."

A crimson bloom spread across Shawn's cheeks. He hoped that wasn't the only thing Sid would say about his look.

Sid let his eyes roam down Shawn's body. "Man in black tonight, huh? You look nice. You don't wear that cowboy hat often enough."

"Thank you." Shawn's voice came out a lot softer than even he expected to. "You smell nice."

"Oh yeah? It's some kind of fancy cologne someone got for me."

Sid finally let a small smile color his features. It was hard for him to accept gifts, but Shawn just kept giving them to him. First was the cologne, then a nice bottle of champagne. That was really a gift for the both of them, Sid figured. Shawn watched the movement of Sid's big hand as he reached up to scratch at his chin. There it was, his matching Rolex shining pretty on his wrist.

"You're wearing it!"

"'Course I am." The watch was a little loud for Sid's taste, but the gesture was appreciated. Shawn was a fidgety mess when he watched Sid open it, hoping such a pricey gift didn't scare him away. When Sid let it slide down his wrist and clicked the solid clasp closed with no words, he breathed a sigh of relief.

"You ready for tonight? I wanna get fucked up."

One of Sid's blond eyebrows arched up in question. Shawn always wanted to get fucked up, what was any different about tonight?

"And you are gonna get fucked up with me."

"Eh, I don't think that's a good idea."

"Hey, I'm not payin' you to think."

Sid chewed at his lower lip, a pang of anger hitting him in the chest like a flash of lightning. Just because he'd gotten used to Shawn calling him stupid didn't mean he liked it.

"Watch it," Sid grabbed a little bit of Shawn's hair and yanked it hard, causing a yelp to squawk out from his boss.

"Ow! Okay, I'm sorry, geez. So sensitive. You're too big to let little ol' me get in your head like that."

Sid rolled his eyes. Maybe he did need a drink or two to deal with Shawn tonight. Shawn took his hat off to rub at the tender part of his scalp that Sid almost ripped his hair out from and sighed. God, that felt good. As usual, that little act of foreplay alone had him at half-mast. The night was young though, so he placed his hat back on his head and walked out of the room.

"Close that door and let's go, we've gotta call the cab."

Shawn was halfway down the hallway heading to the elevator as Sid pulled the door to his room shut.

---

"Keep the whiskey coming, please and thank you!"

Shawn nodded his head along, only slightly off-beat, to the loud music playing in the bar. His eyes were shut as he mumbled along the lyrics to a Motley Crue song. Even this drunk he still knew every word. As the song came to a close (Finally, he thought), another two shots of brown liquor were placed before them. Sid watched his own blurred hand pick his glass up and felt whiskey pour down his throat like lava.

"Aw man, you drank before we could toast."

Shawn used all of his might to focus his eyes on his shot glass. It was a Herculean task. He blinked slowly at the glass, and when he opened his eyes it was empty.

"Whoa. I drank it already?" His accent strengthened significantly when he wasn't sober, Sid had noticed. The slurring probably didn't help either.

"Who's the stupid one now?"

Sid laughed loudly at his rib towards Shawn. Shawn watched as Sid's head reached up to look at the ceiling, his mouth wide open and joyous tears clumping his eyelashes together. His chest rose and fell as he tried to catch his breath from laughing so hard. If there was one thing Shawn was good at, it was cracking him up. He didn't even have to try, he was just inherently funny.

"Still you!" Shawn burped as he laughed. It was nice to see Sid not scowling for once. He waved over at the bartender, who shut his eyes like a parent running out of patience with an unruly toddler, to order another set of shots.

"More, Shawn?"

"I said I wanted to--" Another burp. "Get fucked up. Can't tap out yet! Oh shit. Tap out." From the way Shawn began to giggle, he thought he was pretty clever for that one.

"Okay. I'll be back, I gotta take a piss. Don't get yourself into trouble while I'm gone."

Even though Sid sounded like he was joking as he pointed a finger Shawn's way, the hard look in his eyes told a different story. Shawn nodded seriously. When Sid drank this much, he was essentially useless for what Shawn hired him for. Instead of watching his back, Sid was the one getting himself into trouble. Usually they got kicked out of wherever they were at before things really came to a head. A few too many close calls had kept Shawn from making Sid his official drinking partner, though. He could keep to himself for a few minutes while Sid was in the bathroom, right?

A short amount of time passed, it could've been seconds or only a few minutes as far as Shawn knew, before a shadow darkened his left side. He swiveled his body around on the barstool, almost falling off of it in the process, to face the man standing before him. He was cute enough, Shawn thought. Long, brown hair barely brushed his shoulders. A broad chest strained through his tight t-shirt. Brownish-green eyes seemed to sparkle under the dim lighting. Shawn felt like he was in a dream as a Van Halen song started to blast through the speakers, putting him in a trance he would be embarrassed about later.

"Nice hat. You from Texas?"

Shawn nodded his head slowly. This stranger, whoever he was, had a mischievous look in his eyes. Most men that came up to him were either nervous wrecks or putting on a fake-it-'til-you-make-it level of confidence that turned Shawn off. Whoever this guy was though, he seemed very sure of himself. And he was just Shawn's type too. Shawn looked up at the man through his long eyelashes, batting his eyelids at him while he poked his bottom lip out.

The man's breath hitched in his chest. Shawn may have been way past tipsy, but he could still sniff out attraction from a mile away. His lowered inhibitions made him bolder than usual. He hooked a finger into the belt loop of the man's jeans, pulling him closer a few steps so he could feel his warmth. Something about the word 'trouble' echoed around in his head for one second, but he pushed it away. He was just having a little fun, no big deal.

"San Antonio, to be exact. Where are you from?"

Shawn lowered his voice down to a molasses sweet slowness that he knew would crack this guy's cool facade. Readjusting himself to sit up straighter on the stool, he also took the time to let his legs spread open. Just as he expected, the man's eyes took a glance down to his zipper…. Hook, line, and sinker.

"I'm from--"

Suddenly, the guy turned his attention away from Shawn's face to look up and over his head. Sid's expression was hard as his breath huffed out from his nostrils, not unlike a bull ready to charge at the red cape. Shawn scooted his body back around away from the man to face Sid's undoubtedly pissed off self. But he could explain!

"I can explain, Sid."

"Hush."

"It's just…"

"I said hush."

With the way Sid's eyes bored into his, drilling right past his skull and into his brain, Shawn decided that being quiet was probably a good idea.

"Who the fuck are you and why the fuck are you still here?"

Sid's eyes moved back up to the guy, blinking hard and quick. To his credit, he wasn't cowering in fear. By this point most other men would be running scared. Most of the time Sid didn't even get to show how "psycho" he could be.

"Who the fuck am I? Who are you? I was obviously busy." The man waved his hand absentmindedly in Shawn's direction.

"You're not busy any more. Keep it movin' before I make you move."

An unhinged edge was nipping at Sid's voice. Shawn hoped that for everyone's sake this guy would take the hint and get out of dodge. And yet… he hoped he would keep pressing his luck, too. Selfishly, and Shawn knew it was selfish because he began to get hard at the thought, he hoped the guy would pick a fight that would lead to Sid smacking him around. Sid was scary and mean when he was riled up like this, which turned Shawn on beyond belief. God, forgive him.

"Yeah? You and what army?"

There it is, Shawn thought. It didn't take much to provoke Sid.

The clatter of the barstool Shawn was sitting on falling to the floor made everyone turn to see what the commotion was. Sid had slapped the man so hard he lost his balance. Shawn jetted out from between to avoid any damage while Sid pushed the stool out of his way to continue on. Sid's left fist careened square into the nose of the man who got more than he bargained for. The way his cartilage crumpled and collapsed from Sid's hand made a few people gasp in awe. As the man collapsed onto the floor with blood beginning to pour out from his nostrils, Sid lunged forward to grab the collar of his shirt. A few stiff slams of his body and head into the hardwood floor rattled him into yelling for help. People began to crowd around the scene, a cacophony of loud voices over the music making Shawn remember that he couldn't just stand there and let himself get hot and bothered. There was a very real possibility that if they didn't leave as soon as possible, his bodyguard could end up in jail for the weekend. Vince let Shawn get away with a lot, more than he deserved, but he would have a hard time explaining this jam to him if it went any further.

"Sid, we need to leave. Now."

Shawn tried not to trip over himself as he placed a steadying hand on Sid's shoulder. When he turned away from the sentient glob of snot, blood, and tears that was once Shawn's former suitor, Shawn couldn't help but to widen his eyes. Sid's face was incredibly flushed, his blue eyes widely sitting in his face like two glass marbles. Sweat beaded at his hairline and poured down into his face. Despite it stinging his eyes, he kept them open to stare into and then past Shawn. Very quickly, his anger at this nobody popped like a balloon and was replaced by the urgent need to fuck Shawn until he passed out.

"Come on, enough!"

Shawn pulled at his shirt in an attempt to get him off of the guy. With one last right hook into the man's cheek, Sid raised himself slowly away. The commotion ceased itself when Sid began to look around at everyone, daring someone to step his way. When no one decided to try it, he grabbed Shawn by the arm and dragged him out of the bar with an unpaid tab and worried mutters.

---

The short cab ride back to the hotel was silent outside of Sid's heavy breathing. When they exited the taxi, Shawn tossed the money at the driver and ran behind Sid to catch up with him. Oh, he was pissed alright. Steaming mad still, for some reason. Shawn thought for a moment he was so upset he wouldn't come back to his room with him until Sid jabbed his floor number when they stepped in the elevator. He walked ahead of him to open his door, anticipating with jumped up nervousness what was going to happen next. As he turned away from the door to take off his boots and put his hat down, Sid threw him hard onto the bed. He barely had enough time to make sure his hat hadn't gotten dirty in the whole scuffle.

Sid dragged and pulled Shawn's limp, still pretty drunk, body around to pull off his jeans and shirt. Once he was naked below him, Sid took off his own clothes and tilted his head to the side. Shawn raised on to his elbows while he watched Sid think of what he was going to do to him. As he expected, Sid began to climb on top of him. What he didn't expect was Sid continuing to climb until his knees were on either side of Shawn's chest, his dick bobbing right in Shawn's face. Sid pulled Shawn up closer to it by his hair, pressing his lips against the tip. In response Shawn rested his hands on Sid's ass, spurring him on to enter his mouth.

Shawn's mouth was nice and warm. Immediately he took to drooling on Sid's length, sucking lazily at his cock like they had all the time in the world. They kind of did-- by Shawn standards this was an early night. A steady stream of precome dribbled down Shawn's throat while Sid pushed further into his mouth. He was starting to choke him now, speeding up his pace and tugging harder and harder on Shawn's hair with every thrust. Shawn moaned around his cock, the humming sensation making Sid close his eyes in ecstasy. He could come just like this, plunging his dick down Shawn's throat, feeling his tongue slide around the underside of it while he sucked. The angle of Sid on top of him restricted some access to his lower half and it made Shawn frustrated that he couldn't stroke himself while Sid fucked his mouth.

"Hope you can breathe."

Shawn made a little huffing noise that was barely audible over the wet sounds of his own throat. He could breathe a little, which was just enough. Sid's legs stuttered-- he was close. He pulled out of Shawn's mouth to let him catch his breath for a second. Although the warmth of his mouth felt like heaven, it would have been a waste of an orgasm if he came right there. Shawn turned over on to his stomach to give his elbows a break. Just as soon as his face came to rest in the sheets, Sid was raising him up by his hips and palming his ass. His thumb ghosted over the tattoo on his cheek.

The stinging sensation of Sid's hand smacking one cheek made Shawn shiver. He continued to slap the same spot over and over, with more force each time until it was bright red and raw feeling. Shawn thought he was going to go crazy if Sid waited any longer to fuck him.

"You want any lube?"

Shawn's hair flew around him as he shook his head no. Sid pushed himself inside with no hesitation and expected Shawn's arch to falter, but he stayed right up just like the pro he was. Sid drunkenly watched as his cock disappeared inside of Shawn, all the way up into the very base of himself. He felt so good just like this, not even moving. He could fall asleep right here inside of him as the room swirled…

Shawn pushed back against Sid, chasing after his own orgasm since Sid wasn't following through. Nails dug into his hips and scraped down his thighs, the thought of long red scratch marks making him groan. Sid barely moved as Shawn fucked himself on Sid's dick. This wasn't what he wanted but it felt good anyways. He could imagine it, Sid looking down on him with a stupid, empty-headed look on his face. Shawn reached down to stroke his swinging cock at the image when Sid grabbed his wrist and held it against his lower back, pushing his arch down. It was almost as if he'd read his mind, because suddenly Sid was fucking him hard, grabbing him for purchase and rutting inside of him like an animal. He even breathed and panted like one, some kind of renewed energy flowing through his veins.

Sid could see the fading scars of the last scratches he'd left across his back and decided to freshen them up. Shawn threw his head back when he felt Sid's nails drag roughly down his shoulder blades and to his lower back. Already they were turning red, a nice contrast against Shawn's even tan. Shawn's knees spread farther and farther apart with each thrust and soon enough he was flat against the bed. Somehow he'd managed to go deeper with the change of position making tears well up in Shawn's eyes. He could feel Sid's breath by his ear, hot and loud against the sound of his own heartbeat. Sid gently brushed Shawn's hair away from said ear, lips murmuring into it.

"Hurt enough for you, Shawn?"

Shawn babbled something incoherent back. Every time Sid's hips pistoned, Shawn's own cock rubbed against the sheets. He could feel the wet spot below him starting to build.

"Do you think that guy at the bar could fuck you like this?"

Squeezed out tears rolled down Shawn's cheeks as he yelled out. "No!"

"You liked seeing me whoop his ass, huh?"

"Yes, fuck."

"I liked doing it too. 'Cause I knew it'd turn you on."

Sid grazed his teeth along the shell of Shawn's ear. He felt his body tense up below him and pulled his head up hard by his hair. From the little bit that was revealed to him, Shawn's face was a blushing wet mess, not only from his tears alone but drool that had dribbled out too. Shawn gasped when Sid's teeth sunk into his ear, a noise that was so loud they both hoped no one would knock on their door to see what was going on. Sid pushed Shawn's face back into the sheets and held it there, muffling his moans and whimpers, fucking him fast and hard until he couldn't take it any more. Sid's come flooded into Shawn's ass in a rush and Shawn followed suit shortly after, his come spreading across his skin and into the sheets. He could've sworn his eyes crossed as his body slackened up after the force of such a strong orgasm.

The two removed themselves from each other. Shawn rolled off of the bed and slowly made his way to the bathroom. Compared to the sight he saw earlier, he was a wreck. All that work those ladies put into his hair was for nothing as it sat in a tangled mess on top of his head. Pushing some it back, she saw the mark Sid left on his ear and smiled. Then of course was his back, which he wasn't able to get a great look at but was sure was damaged. His ass was sore, the cheek and inside of it. The scratches on his thighs looked rough. It was all so perfect.

"I think this was the best sex I've ever had-- hey!"

Shawn re-entered the bedroom to see Sid fast asleep, snoring lightly while he laid on his back. He was barely gone for five minutes!

"Wake up, night's not over yet! I'm still kinda drunk, and I'm hungry." Shawn grabbed a pillow and began to hit Sid with it, causing him to open his eyes in a daze. When he finally looked alert, Shawn threw the pillow to the side and crossed his arms over his chest.

"What am I supposed to do about that?" Sid blinked. How did Shawn still have energy?

"I'm gonna order a pizza. You're gonna go downstairs and get it."

"I--"

"I know you're hungry too. Besides, I can barely walk, which is your fault I must remind you, so you have to be the one to go get it. Don't worry, I'll give you some cash before you head down."

"Okay, I guess."

Sid tried not to fall back asleep as he heard Shawn dial away on the bedside telephone.

#shawn michaels #sycho sid #wrestling #magnoliafanfic #wrestling smut #wwe fanfiction

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a-cix · 9 months

Text

Draft - 12.13.23

Taekook. rich tae, waiter jk vibe. 2.2k

“Shh, sh-sh.”

In a room with people of such wealth and class, it is nothing for a man to silence a woman like so, even more so when that woman works for him. Tsk-tsk, their shushes seem to say. It is not said with offense or disgrace. It is not a How dare you, but rather a gentle prod: Do you not wish to be silent?

No one wants to listen to you, darling.

Jungkook watches the man shush the woman, her suit-skirt folding around her narrow hips as she bends to whisper to him, clipboard pushing up under her breasts. His hand moves around the back of the couch and ghosts at her hip, not quite touching her, but threatening to.

“Don’t worry about that,” he says quietly. “I’ll take care of it. Just reschedule my meetings tonight. And you can leave after. I don’t need you anymore. It’s been a long day.”

Jungkook listens. He watches the man, his gold watch flashing in the dim, warm light—a Rolex, Jungkook noticed earlier, from the moment he first laid eyes on this man, because he’s learned to spot signs of wealth. The man is put-together, in a tailored suit, another detail Jungkook can pick up on because he’s learned to spot it. This man is too tall for a generic suit to fit him so well. Besides, the dense fabric, the luxurious cufflinks, the clean seams, no suits made with such quality are available without tailoring. They are all custom-made.

“More champagne, sir?” Jungkook asks, replacing the woman as soon as she leaves. She must be a secretary of some sort, a personal assistant, a professional foot-massager or whatever else men like this typically keep these suited women with clipboards and hushed voices around for. Sometimes Jungkook feels that the women are simply there to make the men look important, as if they’re posturing to the other men in the room. Sometimes Jungkook thinks men like this fuck women just to titillate other men. Peak homoeroticism. Jungkook has slept with more than a few of the men who frequent this place, the ones who keep a few too many women around them, a few too many flashy things on their bodies. The ones who compensate. It always ends the same. He hopes it ends the same way with this man too.

The man turns to glance at Jungkook over his shoulder, one leg crossed over his other, ankle hooked over the knee, making himself look bigger as he expands into his lounge chair.

The man sees Jungkook’s face and smiles.

“What did you say?”

Jungkook smiles back. This man knows what Jungkook said. He just wants to hear it again. From this pretty mouth, this pretty face.

“Would you like some more champagne, sir?”

Jungkook says it carefully. He wants to make this man feel special. He wants him to know that this moment between them, this eye contact, this electricity, is not only real for both of them, but that to Jungkook it is everything.

You can save me, he wants to say with his eyes. Lowly little me.

It’s easier to fool people like this. Feigning ignorance and stupidity and poverty. Men like this, they like poor little boys, pathetic boys, boys who cry and whimper and ask why they get treated the way they do.

The man looks Jungkook up and down, just as Jungkook intended. But his eyes do not linger, not on Jungkook’s second-hand loafers, purposefully scraped up at the tips, or the crusty look of too much cheap gel in his hair. The man shakes his head and raises a hand.

“I’m okay, thank you.” He gives Jungkook a quick smile over his shoulder. Jungkook sees his tired eyes, strangely earnest, strangely heavy. “Long day tomorrow.”

Jungkook nods and backs off with a bow, balancing the tray of champagne flutes with the skill and dexterity of a thousand years.

He later sees the man heading out, his suit jacket folded neatly over his arm, his large hand rubbing the back of his neck as he stretches his neck in slow circles. Jungkook watches like a hawk, flaying the man open with his eyes, until the man looks at him, and suddenly he feels criminal. Caught. As if this man sees everything he has done, laid out before him like a glass box of artifacts. Title: Bad things I have done. Title: People like you I’ve fucked over. Title: The horrible, disgusting things I want you to do to me.

That night Jungkook thinks of the man, his kind smile and his deadly eyes. The way he balanced his single champagne flute in his tan, slender fingers. The way he spoke to Jungkook, offering him a piece of his life: Long day tomorrow. Why would he share such a thing? What did he have to gain from it?

Anything at all?

Jungkook mulls it over but comes up with nothing. Nothing but the cold darkness of his low ceiling and the extravagant loudness of the Seoul streets outside, the hum of electric vehicles he has yet to be able to afford, and the feeling of something chasing him. There are some things you can never get away from. Money, and no money.

Jungkook doesn’t see the man again until a big event comes about. It’s put on by one of the biggest law firms in Seoul, sponsored by the bar association. Because of this Jungkook sees many men he has dirtied his hands with in the past, and he passes by them, chin raised, as though they are nothing. Because they are. He has seen them naked, shrivelled, swollen cock flaccid on their bellies as they look Jungkook in the eye and tell him that he is the first person to ever understand them.

Of course he is. Jungkook is Jungkook. He is magnificent, empathetic, and sharp. So sharp. He cuts people open. He sees their insides.

After those moments of vulnerability, nights spent alone, nights of first-times and brand-new homoeroticism that Jungkook pretends to still be amazed by, he never sees these men again. They don’t come around. Sometimes he muses on how they go about it. They must come up with excuses. They must lie through their yellow smokers’ teeth. I’m busy tonight.

When the victories are magnificent, Jungkook likes to keep them on his bedside table for a few days, maybe even a week. He likes to wake up and see the gold glimmering in the afternoon light that streams into his apartment. He wakes late because he works late. He likes to say that he is young, that the night belongs to him, and to own something means to sacrifice another. The mornings are never his time, pale and grey. It doesn’t match his colour palette. He is a creature of the night. Darkness and orange candlelight, alcohol, red stoplights.

Jungkook likes the way his prizes smile at him. He rises at noon in his crummy apartment and fucks around till 4 pm or so, drinking tea, working out, eating expensive protein off the money of men he lets inside him. Salmon. Wagyu. Sometimes he eats canned tuna to stay humble, but it’s more like a joke he tells himself. Remember when I used to live like this? Not anymore. Now he is clever and his beauty and sexuality is his weapon. He likes to think he knows things people don’t, and that he is better at life than most because of his knowledge.

Knoweldge is money, so you’d think knowledge is everything, but it goes a bit deeper than that.

Clientele is SJ tn, Jimin’s text says, lighting up Jungkook’s phone screen as he walks from the train station down the familiar street that he’s made his own over the past three years. The vibrant lightbox signs and the headache advertisements used to sting, but he is no longer the boy he used to be. This is now his home. This route is where he prepares, plots things out, and becomes the character: Jung Kook. No last name, and not really a first name either. Just a name, whole and complete. An idea. A concept. International Playboy, he used to call himself jokingly, popping his collar in Jimin’s living room after a long night at work together, winding down into the early, buzzing mornings with a few too many shots of soju.

“Evening,” Jungkook says, poking his head into the staff lounge at the back of the building, flashing his signature smile. “Who’s the clientele tonight?”

He already knows, but he wants to know what everyone else knows, what they’re thinking.

“SJ,” Jimin says, standing with two of the girls near the water tub at the back, glowing blue in the artificial light the company pumps into the machine to make their water seem cleaner. As Jimin hands Jungkook the clipboard of tonight’s registered clients, they share a look. Jimin knows that Jungkook already knows, but it’s dog-eat-dog here. Jungkook flashes a smile to the two girls circling Jimin, the piranha-like smiles they give back, vaguely remembering their names and knowing they won’t last, not the way he and Jimin have. Here, it doesn’t matter whether you’re a man or a woman or what your clientele is. What matters is your fluidiuty.

One of the women is too bright. Tries too hard. Jungkook has seen her on the floor, her sweaty smile at men who would never give her a second glance, the desperate shake of her voice. It doesn’t work like that. The other one is too timid. Jungkook has seen her so close to a victory, but she doesn’t bite. No teeth. Just gums. No man wants a gumjob. Men want a bitch with teeth who stays gentle only for him.

It’s only later in the evening, when Jungkook is so deep in his character—International Playboy, Jung Kook, two words, no last name, no first name—that he sees the man again. The man with the ghostly gentle fingers, the man whose strangely kind eyes make Jungkook feel watched.

“I’ll take that glass of champagne this time,” the man says, his lips smiling but his eyes hollow. Jungkook has had an eye on him all night, his mannerisms, his calculated movements, his smiles, his moments of boldness. Among businessmen like this, there are always such interesting hierarchies to take note of. The young man who makes the older men laugh. The older man who the young men crowd toward. Jungkook finds it disgusting. LIke watching cockroaches fuck. But this man is different. He is peaceful and removed from the grime of his circumstances. He does not laugh at crass jokes about women, but he does not cause a scene either, simply bowing his head and stepping away to seek another conversation, another glass of alcohol that he ends up leaving unfinished on a dressed table.

“You haven’t finished your last,” Jungkook says with a small smile, eyeing the last glass of bubbling fluid the man had left on the table ten minutes ago.

“Ah.” The man laughs and rubs the back of his neck. He’s not as nervous as he should be. It’s like he’s faking it. LIke he’s naturally confident, but wants to seem submissive and easy. Jungkook breathes in and out. Feels the conditioned air dry his throat. Maybe he’s overthinking things. Projecting. The man continues, “I, uh, I forgot about that.”

“Mm-hm.” Jungkook gives him a special smile, one of those smiles that say: this is only for you. But he grabs the man another glass of champagne because that’s his job. Toeing the line between professional and unprofessional. Give him 12 hours, maybe 6, and he could have this man naked, panting, swearing, professionalism be damned. Give Jungkook 24 hours and he could have this man fucked for a whole new reason. Maybe. Some people keep valuables easily accessible on their bedside table but some people lock them away, cheap fucks they are.

That’s all Jungkook thinks about: How easily could I steal from this person? How easily can I fuck you over? Sometimes, on the nights he drinks too much or thinks a little too deeply, it gets to him. His mannerisms, his shallowness. Sometimes, when his shift ends early, when he’s tuckered out and drained, he glances at Jimin and sees what they do in a different light. It’s disgusting. Usually he can sleep it off. You’ve gotta do what you gotta do. Lie, cheat, steal. Life is a game and money is the prize. There are no rules, not really.

As Jungkook brings a fresh glass of champagne to this man, his beautiful face, the relieved smile on his full lips, the way he brushes a strand of hair off his forehead as he accepts the glass flute in his fingertips, a delicate shake to his body, Jungkook feels guily for the first time. He thinks about how this will go. First, a statement—you are beautiful. Second, a lie—I’ve never felt this way about another man. Finally, an admission—You feel so good inside.

There’s always more after that, the part Jungkook does in the silence of the room after pretending to fall asleep, where he snatches what he saw in the room when the lights were still on. The things he noted down. He keeps it respectful. He erases from his mind the signs of misery, depression, or genuine existence, whether it be a month's worth of dirty clothes piled in a corner or a letter from a loved one pinned to the fridge. Jungkook never sees the person behind his crimes, and maybe that’s why he’s so good at what he does.

He is transparent. He is invisible and sees nothing.

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