#and likes physical affection way too much | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

atticrissfinch · 11 hours

Text

Born of Confusion and Quiet Collusion | (joel miller x reader) (18+)

pairing: stepfather!joel miller x fem!reader summary: he’s been in your life since you were fourteen, the first reliable father figure you’ve had in your life. but you’re not a child anymore. and you’re not the only one who’s noticed that. warnings/tags: [18+ MINORS DNI] sleazy/deadbeat stepdad!joel, age gap (joel is 51, reader is 20), stepcest (v self-referential), daddy!kink, size!kink, fingering, oral (m&f receiving), unprotected piv, deepthroating, cum-eating, marking, ball-sucking, angst!!! a lot of it!!!, smoking, drinking, infidelity, v brief mentions of past domestic abuse and past impregnation of a minor (16) via statutory r*pe (neither apply to joel or reader), too many religious metaphors, reader has a landing strip because…I said so word count: ~10.6K | ao3 a/n: I had such a good time writing this. it didn’t turn out as PWP as initially intended, but I love it just the same. this is definitely not your mother’s stepcest fic (it’s her husband’s 🤪) but it’s still horny and sick and twisted and I hope you cry or cum or both ❤️ if people like this, there is a possibility of a part 2! title from lana my queen ♥️ thanks to @saradika-graphics for the dividers <3

Masterlist | Kofi

Blinding sun has begun to streak across the sidewalks in your childhood neighborhood. Patches of grass and wildflowers sprout from the cracks in the pavement. Vibrant chalk drawings smear from trekking feet. Sprinklers stutter and hiss for giggling children — a picturesque snapshot of youthful frivolity, submerged in the ephemeral gloss of summer vacation.

In a way, it feels like you’ve never left. For the past two years, you’ve only come home for the summer from college. Which is unfortunate considering how beautiful New England is in the summer. Instead your thighs are sticking to plastic benches at fast-casual restaurants in Texas, where it feels like the devil himself has his head between your legs anywhere you sit.

Of course, it’s always nice to see your mother. Never without a pitcher of sweet ice tea in the fridge, never without a pasted-on Southern debutante smile, and never a single hair that’s not bleached to hell on her head. Frazzled and air-headed as they come, flighty as a hummingbird, but easily reined and tethered to the earth with one hand by…Joel.

Oh, what could you say about Joel?

He loves your mother, you’ll say that much. You’ve never seen a man as drawn to his wife as you have him. The touches are constant, the compliments doled out like those strawberry bonbons on your grandmother’s coffee table. It’s been seven years and he still acts like your living room is the lobby heading to the honeymoon suite they call a bedroom.

As a result, you wouldn’t be caught dead without headphones at any given time in your home. You’ve heard far too much over these seven years to not know to be prepared.

But what Joel makes up for in physical affection, he severely lacks in any other form of decorum. His recliner is perfectly molded to his body, his side table littered with cigarette butts and empty Pabst cans. The blare of NASCAR is ever-present, and you swear you can see the outline of an ad-riddled Camaro burned into the television screen.

On any given Saturday you hear “Beer, baby,” about a dozen times.

Beer, baby.

‘Nother beer, baby.

They almost don’t sound like real words after the first several. Just a nonsensical pattern of plosives spewing into the air that your mother is conditioned to respond to like a dog.

Beer, baby.

and then,

Snick. Crack. Fizz.

And she never complains, as far as you’ve heard.

You’d tried one time to yank her out of the trance.

“Mom, you don’t have to be his little barmaid, you know. He can get his own beer,” you’d said.

She just smiled that plastic smile, slid her hands down his chest from behind his chair, kissed his sweaty temple, and said, “‘Least I can do for my white knight. Ain’t never no skin off my nose.”

“White knight with the biggest sword in the land,” Joel had tacked on for his own benefit, grabbing his crotch lewdly with a filthy grin before your mother swatted him playfully and gathered his empty beer cans.

The thing about your mother’s current questionable standards is that your biological father was a shitbag, to put it lightly. He’d gotten your mom pregnant when she was just short of seventeen, and he was thirty-five. And that’s just the beginning. He’s locked up now, but he’d had about fourteen years to do damage to her in this very home that he bought for your little family to maintain appearances of family values.

To her, Joel is her white knight. She was a single mother of a teenage girl with an ex-husband in the slammer and a dead-end receptionist job at a local travel agency.

Joel showered her with love and praise without the shadow of the back of his hand just behind. And maybe he was still fifteen years her senior. Maybe he didn’t have money. Maybe he was a deadbeat, beer-bellied local with a million excuses as to why jobs never work out for him (a “Type A” personality, he likes to blame it on. Which you’re unsure he even knows what that means given that the only Type A you’ve observed in him that he could credibly claim is his blood type).

But he loved your mother when she needed it the most. And he loved her enough that he accepted the package deal the two of you came as. So there’s only so much you could hold against him.

And not that this would ever matter, in any universe, but in spite of his dirty undershirts, his ratty sweatpants, his prominent beer gut…Joel is not an unattractive man. He cleans up very well on the rare occasion your mother has required him to, and you see a sparkle of what your mother sees in him on a daily basis.

A sparkle that, for reasons unbeknownst to you, had your hand sliding into your panties once or twice or more growing up when you were still discovering your own sexuality in your twin bed with your headphones in.

You haven’t done that for years now. You barely even remember it happened. But you don’t think of Joel that way. Joel is just…Joel. He’s your stepfather. Love of your mother’s life. The stability she needed. For seven years, that’s how it’s stayed.

When you return to your house in the evening of a hot Summer night, ear freshly talked off by your old friend from high school and a stomach satiated with your favorite local spot, your mother is working on dinner for her and Joel at the stove, still dressed in her work attire.

“Looks good, sexy mama,” Joel says, slapping her ass and gripping a handful of it as he kisses her neck.

She giggles and bats him away. “Oh, shoo. Go sit and it’ll be ready in about twenty minutes.”

He fits in one final grope before plodding over to his recliner and powering on the television, eyeing you as you slip your sandals off by the front door.

“How’s Nancy?” He asks in his deep drawl, pulling the arm of the recliner until the footrest pops up for him to prop his socked feet.

“Francie,” you correct, tossing your keys into the dish on the antique wooden console table by the door. One your mother and you had spotted at an estate sale when you were seven, and one you’ve made a mental note to make sure none of your sticky-finger relatives get their hands on before you have a solid place of your own to furnish and you can take a piece of your childhood home with you.

“Francie. That’s right. How’s Francie?”

“She’s good. She thinks Josh is gonna propose soon.”

“Oh, that’s wonderful,” your mom pipes in, plopping a hand over her heart as she stirs. “I always liked that Josh. Always holds the door open for me when I stop by Sal’s.”

“Yeah, he’s alright,” you say dismissively. What you don’t say is how he’s already cheated on Francie twice in as many years, but she keeps going back. But that’s none of your business in the end. Francie’s always been one to do what she’s going to do.

“Well, what about that boy you been seein’ every goddamn night?” Joel asks, leaning back in his chair.

“Hasn’t been every goddamn night,” you sass back, propping your hand on your hip in front of him. “We’ve been on four dates.”

“Been real long dates,” Joel says, a clear inclination in his voice.

“They have not been real long dates, Joel. They’ve been normal dates.”

“Oh, leave her be, J,” your mom scolds lightly. “She’s just havin’ fun, aren’t you, blossom?”

“I guess,” you mutter, studying the old magazines on the coffee table. “Hoping it becomes something a little more serious than ‘just fun’ soon.”

“Caught your eye, didn’t he? He’d be a dumbass to throw that away,” Joel says with surety. “Knew that the second I looked at your mama. You girls are a prize. Beautiful as all get-out.”

“Thanks,” you mumble, shifting your weight a little uncomfortably at the compliment.

Joel’s mouth falls into a smirk as he taps his side table. “You wanna make like your mama and grab me a beer, sweet girl?”

You scoff, giving him a look of disgust. “Fuck off.”

Joel gives an upside-down smile and shrugs before hollering at your mother, “Beer, baby.”

You let out an annoyed sigh and head off toward the kitchen. “I’ll fucking get it, mom. Lazy ass,” you mutter the last two words under your breath.

“Thank you, doll,” your mom says, a wide smile on her face as you pull open the fridge and retrieve his drink. You slam it down on his tiny table with thinly-veiled irritation, flourishing your hands towards it in a facetious “ta-da” gesture.

Joel looks at the can, then up at you. “Ain’t gonna open it?”

“For fuck’s sake,” you bite out incredulously, turning on your heel toward your bedroom. “Open it yourself,” you yell over your shoulder as you head down the hall.

“Thank you, sweet girl,” you hear him bellow to you with a laugh in his voice as you shut your door.

—

Your mom is acting different lately. Pushing Joel away more when he becomes affectionate. More short-tempered at random moments with him. You’ve already witnessed her going off on him once since you’ve been home about him not doing the simplest things. Tidying up the table, forgetting to run errands for her while she’s at work, emptying his own ashtray. Her patience is much thinner the last several weeks since you’ve been home, and you’re not sure for how long prior.

But you see her smiling at her phone one evening when Joel is out at a bar with his friends. It’s a certain kind of smile. Less plastered on, more secretive in its delight. Forty minutes later she tells you she’s playing some late-night pinochle at a friend’s and to not wait up for her. She looks awful dolled up for a card game night with “friends”, but you say nothing.

She’s playing some “late-night pinochle” with someone, alright, you think.

Joel stumbles in at 2 AM, clattering loudly around in the kitchen. You pad out of your room in your sleep shorts and tank top, squinting into the bright kitchen lights.

“The fuck are you doing, Joel?”

His head whips around, hand frozen on the handle of an open kitchen drawer. “Shit, sweetheart. Sorry, didn’t know I’d wake ya.”

“You’re being noisy as fuck. What are you rooting around in here for?”

“Ran outta smokes. I know I got a spare pack stashed in here.”

You sigh tiredly, resting your chin on your hand on the counter. “Junk drawer on the right.”

Joel follows your instructions and emerges victorious, waggling the pack in the air. “Thank you, sweet girl.”

“Yeah, yeah,” you wave off, pushing yourself off the counter to head back to your slumber.

“Wanna have a smoke with me out back?”

You stare at him blankly for a moment. “I don’t really smoke.”

Joel fixes you with a telling look, eyebrows raised. “Mama’s not home. You wanna have a smoke with me?”

You stand quiet for a pause, but then roll your eyes and tilt your head to the back door in a silent acquiescence. Joel smiles lightly and follows your gesture, slipping a cigarette into your hand as he passes.

The night air is still balmy, but there is a light breeze. You hunker down on the porch steps and Joel flicks his lighter for the both of you.

You’re not a habitual smoker. It’s purely social and for the occasional nerves. Your mom hates smoking, even hates that Joel does it. But she really doesn’t want you to get trapped in it. And as far as she knows, you’ve never had nicotine in your life. She definitely doesn’t know that you’d surreptitiously coerced Joel into offering you your first cigarette at sixteen. On these exact same steps.

You smoke in relative silence for several minutes, the cicadas chirping around you and the wood creaking underneath.

Then, into the dark, “She’s steppin’ out on me.”

You look over at him, legs spread, half-smoked cigarette dangling between them, and looking a little more haggard than you remember seeing him before.

Something about the softness in his face, the puffiness under his eyes, has you looking at him in a more sympathetic light that has nothing to do with the dying glow of the bulb above the doorway.

“Don’t talk about my mom like that,” you mutter gently. But he’s right and you know it. You don’t know the details, but she’s not being the most subtle about it.

“Don’t want to,” Joel replies, taking another pull from his smoke. “But the signs’ve been there for a while.”

You nod silently in understanding, feeling the burn of the smoke in your throat.

Joel sighs, tendrils of smoke billowing from his mouth. “Happens, I guess. I’m sure it’ll blow over.”

“Yeah. It’ll blow over,” you agree. Joel doesn’t respond again, just stares out at the overgrown, weed-infested back lawn. You knock your knee against his until you have his attention. You reassure him, “It’ll blow over.”

Joel stares at you for a prolonged minute, then bumps your knee back. A heavy palm falls low onto your bare thigh, stroking gently with a thick thumb. Goosebumps flare up under it immediately, a strange feeling in your stomach ramping up at the graze of him. You blink and take another drag.

Joel’s hand slides off your leg, leaving a bizarre chill in its wake. He pulls himself up and taps out the smoldering butt onto the railing.

“It’ll blow over,” he confirms, pushing open the door and disappearing inside.

Tightness constricts in your chest as you desperately suck down to the filter on your cigarette, jettisoning the smoke into the air pensively.

A lot has changed since you were sixteen.

—

The night had not gone as planned. Six dates and you really thought this would be the one. You knew it would be long distance, but you thought he liked you.

You hadn’t even gone on Tinder with the intent of finding a relationship, but then you went on a few dates and you thought, maybe you could do it. He’s cute, sweet, makes you come and then fucks you well. You had thought this would be the night. The “Will you be my girlfriend” night, not the “This isn’t going to work” night. So you’re fighting back tears as he awkwardly drives you home.

Joel is in his chair, beer in hand, when you walk through the door. You’re really not in the mood, so you beeline it for the hallway.

“Hey, what’s wrong sweet girl?” Joel calls after you as you sequester yourself in your room, chuck your heels at your closet, and hurl yourself onto your bed.

Not two minutes go by before a light knock sounds at your door. “You okay, sweet girl?”

“Fuck off,” you yell back at him through the closed door. But the door opens, and Joel is there, leaning against the doorway.

“Date go to shit?”

“How tactful,” you grumble, wringing the pillow in your lap with your hands and dropping your head back against your headboard.

Joel chuckles, but he looks earnest in his interest. “Come on, darlin’. What happened?”

You shrug dismissively, throat thick with your restrained emotions.

Joel knocks on the doorway in an awkward fidget, before ultimately crossing the barrier into your room and sitting on the bed at your feet, looking at you expectantly.

You bite your lower lip, doing your damndest to stave off the tears. “He broke things off.”

“Dumbass,” Joel mutters.

“I’m the dumbass.”

“You’re not a dumbass. I would know, wouldn’t I?” Joel teases, jostling your foot lightly.

A hint of a smile forms on your face. “Yeah, you would. Dumbass extraordinaire.”

Joel matches your smile with an upturn of the corner of his mouth. He tugs at your ankle. “Come ‘ere.”

You groan, but toss the pillow aside and scoot down the bed next to him, folding your legs to the side in your wrinkled dress. Joel wraps an arm around you and pulls you into him. You sigh and lower your head onto his shoulder.

“It’s fucking stupid, but I liked him,” you say quietly.

“He don’t deserve you,” he says, hugging around your waist.

“Apparently no boy does, at this point,” you sniffle. The scent of Joel fills your nostrils — beer, cigarettes, a thin sheen of sweat. It should be off-putting, but it smells like growing up. Like maturity.

“You’re right. No boy does.”

The arm around you shifts, and once again, a hand. Warm on your thigh. Midway up this time, just below the hem of your dress. You stare down at it, conflicted.

“What do you mean?” You ask, fearing you already know the answer.

“I think you need a man,” Joel rumbles, squeezing at your thigh.

You swallow thickly, unable to look away from the masculine hand clamped onto your leg, a little less than innocently.

“Joel? Where’s my mom?”

When Joel doesn’t reply, you pry your eyes from his hand to study his face. You see his expression and the answer passes between you wordlessly.

She’s not here. You both know where she is. And you both know she won’t be back for a good while.

Joel’s gaze fixes on yours as his hand slips up a single inch, pinky dipping just under your skirt.

“Joel…” you whisper, but you don’t think he quite hears it. His eyes drop down to your mouth and stay there, watch as your tongue flicks over your suddenly very dry lips. “What are you doing?”

A casual smile twitches onto his lips as another inch is lost between him and a ticking time bomb. He just repeats, “You deserve a man.”

Your breath hitches in your throat as his hand closes the distance, dress dragging up your thigh until his pinky brushes the soft fabric of your panties. Your eyes drift closed at the feather-light touch, a war waging in your head.

Joel was not the one meant to discover the type of underwear that’s under this dress tonight. He’s the very last person you expected. As he should be. He’s your stepfather. You’ve overheard him fucking your mother countless times.

Overheard how good he is. How big he is. How thorough he is.

Your leg quivers under his palm, your jaw clenching with the discordance in your mind.

“I don’t think we should be doing this,” you say shakily, fingers gripping the sheets under you. “I don’t think you should be doing this.”

Joel’s gaze bounces between your eyes and your lips. Then he gives you a sultry look and speaks the forbidden words.

“I won’t tell if you won’t.”

Your fingers dance anxiously as Joel’s pinky grazes up the crotch of your panties again, where you’re terrified he’s going to find you responding favorably to this scenario.

“You want me to keep it a secret from my mother that her husband fucked her only daughter?” You burst out in a single breath. You feel lightheaded and tingly. You can’t parse your thoughts and they’re starting to get crowded.

“Already usin’ the past tense, huh?” Joel says huskily, and you feel his hand burrowing in between your thighs until two fingers press at the seam of your pussy over your underwear. “Seems like your mind’s already made up, sweet girl.”

You whimper quietly, the clouds in your brain growing denser by the second. Then, without ever actively deciding on a course of action, your legs are resituating themselves into a position much less concerned with modesty. Your thighs are spreading with zero input from your critical thinking skills, and a stifled groan slips out of Joel.

“Feels like it, too,” Joel moans, fingers rubbing over what must be a prominent wet spot on your panties.

You release your first moan, and it seems to echo around your room and back into your ears, spearing through the overcast in your head. You finally vocalize what you really should keep inside at this point, but it needs to be said.

“Joel, I-I’m your stepdaughter. Y-you’re my stepfather. We can’t.”

Joel’s nose ghosts up your jaw, nuzzling into the curve of your neck. “Grown woman, aren’t ya? Ain’t my blood, neither.”

“My mom…”

“Your mama ain’t gonna find out. I sure as shit ain’t gonna tell her.”

“I can’t lie to her,” you insist, but your mouth drops open as one of his fingers strokes at the crease of your thigh and your pussy, shaved smooth mere hours ago for your date. His skin on your skin, in a place where it should never fucking be.

“You’re so goddamn sexy,” Joel breathes into your neck, and his lips land just after, shoving your concerns to the side. You jump at the stroke of his tongue over your throat, the scrape of his teeth, and all at once you’re slave to it.

You fall onto your back and he follows you down, straddling your hips and cupping your jaw, pushing it upward as he sucks at your neck. If you don’t stop him, he’s going to leave a mark. As if he hasn’t already. The deed is as good as done.

“Joel, be carefu—”

“Don’t call me Joel,” he growls, nipping below your ear.

“What do I call you?”

Joel’s mouth halts on you, exhaling over his saliva on your skin. “Daddy. Call me daddy,” he instructs, latching onto you again.

“Fuck,” you sigh, craning your neck up for his enjoyment. “That’s so fucked.”

Joel’s laugh borders on unhinged as he presses his lips to your ear and whispers, “We’re already fucked. Would be a waste to half-ass it.”

He hooks a finger into the gusset of your underwear and tugs it to the side, and you can sense him watching your expressions as your eyes clench shut in disbelief that this is actually happening, while not even dreaming of telling him to stop.

Air rushes out your chest as a thick finger glides through the folds of your cunt, confirming your arousal with damning evidence.

“Jesus, you’re juicy as a fuckin’ peach, darlin’,” Joel groans, sounding almost pained at the discovery.

“Not the first time. I used to think about you,” you admit, a runaway train, brakes shot. “When I was younger.”

“Fuck, you can’t say shit like that,” Joel moans, forehead pressing against your temple. “Give people the wrong idea.”

“Never telling anyone else. Just you. Besides, I’m all woman now…daddy,” you coo, testing the waters.

“Fuck,” he swears loudly again, another finger joining the first to massage at your clit. “Nasty, naughty girl. You take after your mama.”

You whine and wriggle under him at the comparison, but by some inexplicable, Freudian twist of fate, a distant, previously obscured light in your chest begins to beam. “Keep touching me, daddy. I’ll be a good girl.”

“Yes, you will,” Joel says in response. Not like an order or an expectation. But like it’s a given. Like you’d ever behave any other way beneath him. As if he’d known all along, all seven years, that you would end up right here. Disheveled and heartbroken on your twin-sized, pastel pink duvet, with paternal fingers that have biblically, intimately known the inside of your creator, the site of your creation, now acquainting themselves with the life she created.

Do you feel like her? Do you have her lips like you have her mouth? Has this man successfully sown and reaped the benefits of a distressingly similar — kindred — octet of lips? Matching horizontal and vertical smiles all thirsting, parched, yet drooling for him under a single roof? If he closes his eyes, could he tell the difference?

Joel’s breath is at your ear, sending chills over your flesh from head to toe, muddying your mind.

“Take off your dress.”

A full-body shudder wracks through you at the order, a traitorous flood of wetness flowing from your opening as Joel continues to explore you with his touch. You begin shrugging out of your dress straps until steadying fingers cling to your thigh.

Joel pulls your focus with damp fingers perched on the underside of your chin, your own slick marring your skin at the hand of your father figure. Your lip trembles as he commands your attention.

“Stand up. And take it off. For me,” he instructs measuredly, bringing his thumb down to stroke the point of your chin softly.

A burning starts in your throat, like the smolder of one of his cigarettes slipped into your mouth. “Y-you want me to strip for you?”

Joel’s lips slant upwards and he says, “I wanna see everything you have to offer your daddy.”

You nod, the blaze in your throat sizzling to your chest as you long to reveal all you have to him.

You extract from the cage of his limbs to upright yourself, smoothing the line of your dress down to its full length, hitting you mid-thigh. Your hand twists back to capture your zipper, and with torturous patience, you work it downward. Your straps droop down your shoulders with the slack, and you’re quick to wrap an arm around your breasts to prevent too premature an exposure. You get the feeling that a man like Joel appreciates the delay of gratification, if his ask of you putting on a show for him is any indication.

The zipper ends precariously at the top of your ass, the sides of your dress falling open to show the expanse of your back to him along with the band of your bra.

“Fuck,” you hear him say under his breath, the squeak of your mattress springs sounding as he moves behind you into an unknown position on the bed.

You languidly slip your arms from the straps entirely, pressing the dress to your tits for a moment longer before letting the top of the garment fall at the waist, holding it to your stomach instead.

“Just like that, sweetheart. That’s right,” Joel grinds out, the springs squealing again, but this time accompanied by the rasp of a different zipper.

Curiosity, eagerness get the better of you, and you start to turn. But you’re instantly met with a hard, “Uh-uh. Keep lookin’ forward. You’ll get an eyeful soon enough.”

You fix your gaze forward again, struggling to keep up this glacial charade when you have good reason to believe what you long to see is now just behind you. So you bring your hands to the side of your dress and shift it down, bending at the waist to put your ass on display in your lacy thong you’d worn for your date, until the dress at last crumples to the floor.

A low whistle sings behind you as you stay bent for a decent few seconds before standing at full height again. Your fingers fiddle with the clasps of your bra at your back, coming apart with practiced ease. The article hits the floor as well, your tits free to the air and your nipples hardening at the exposure.

“God, you’re such a good girl, aren’t ya? Finish the picture for daddy.”

You whimper, your fingers dipping beneath the waistband of your thong on either side. With a final flair of showmanship, you shimmy the elastic strap of your panties up and down with a slight sway in your hips, before bending at the waist again as the last stitch of clothing on your body sounds a silent death knell as it hits the carpet of your childhood bedroom.

The air feels thick and weighty as the quiet stretches. You can hear the hum of voices from the television Joel didn’t shut off before he sought to damn the both of you. You could wrestle with the reality that the soundtrack to your irredeemable sin is a King of the Hill rerun, but Joel is still on your bed, and you’re still hands-to-ankles, laying waste to each and every ounce of sense you’ve accrued in your twenty years.

A resounding groan shatters your trance as Joel thrusts you back into the situation at hand. “Fuckin’ Christ,” you hear, and then the loud thump of Joel’s knees crashing to the ground, rough hands startling you as they take hold of your hips. Your palms slam to the carpet to maintain your balance as wet lips suck open-mouthed kisses onto your asscheek.

“Oh, fuck,” you sigh loudly, your feet arching onto your tip-toes as the kisses close in on your aching core. Two thumbs part the split of your pussy from behind, and Joel doesn’t waste another second diving in. A large, flattened tongue licks a line up the length of your pussy, clit to entrance, leaving your legs shaking.

Another deep, gratuitous moan rings out, and Joel’s mouth is stroking over you with rigorous passion. Joel comes up for air, but only to take an aggressive bite into the globe of your ass, one sure to leave behind unmistakable, irrefutable physical evidence of exactly who had been there.

It’s foreboding.

But why does it feel like sanctuary?

A tug at your hips, and you’re at last spinning back around to face him.

And his eyes are ravenous. Ruinous.

His mouth descends onto your mound, slobbering up the small strip of hair you left as a guiding path to whoever sought to grant you pleasure.

An almost-boyfriend.

Or a stepfather.

But he goes against the grain, kissing further and further north of your throbbing cunt, over your stomach, up your sternum. Your spit-slick tits find refuge in the confines of his hands, groping, pushing, pulling at them as your nipples drag against his palms.

You manage to steal a glimpse between you, fiending for a sneak peek of that sword he constantly boasts about. He hasn’t revealed much, other than a sizeable bulge and a red, shining head poking out from the band of his boxers. It’s enough to have you imagining what it will feel like inside you, crying out for it to become reality.

His lips claim your neck with purpose as he steers you toward your bed, the backs of your legs giving way and cascading the both of you into a sea of bedding. Your head nestles among your pillows as Joel works his way south again.

Joel looks up at you as he approaches the seam of your pussy. Heated exhales tease at your clit as he says, “You always screamin’ about why your mama keeps me around? Lemme show you why.”

You prop yourself up on your elbows to take in the sight of your stepfather’s mouth sinking down onto your pussy and dancing his tongue over the bundle of nerves that has been throbbing for him. The first sucking pull of his mouth on you has your head tipping back in an entirely unhindered moan, and you have to flop it back down, your chin colliding with your chest in your haste to view the bob of his head between your legs.

Joel’s work is impressive to say the least. His tongue drags up and down the length of you, stopping to circle your clit with a pointed tip and suck you back into the wet warmth of him. Your entrance leaks in excessive excitement as he riles you up with gusto, hands framing you at the inside of your thighs and spreading you wide for his consumption.

He breaks away, not allowing himself to go far, to croon over your soaked core, “Such a sweet pussy on such a sweet girl.”

You exhale heavily, browns furrowing in overwhelming pleasure as he directs his attention back to your clit. A finger tests the bounds of your opening, stroking the perimeter of the point of no return.

He knows the outside of you now. He’s familiarized himself with every inch of the surface of your skin, either with his eyes, or with the aid of his mouth. Inside is foreign territory. Inside is unforgivable.

He slides in so easily, it’s like you rolled out a welcome mat and propped open the door. He’s filled you to the webbing of his fingers in a manner of a half-second, and you feel dizzy with it.

Then he’s fucking you with it, and it’s like you’re floating. The grip of your cunt around his finger has him moaning around your clit, sending vibrations throughout your body.

He crooks his finger, stroking at the softest part of you, and you feel yourself unraveling at an alarming pace.

“Daddy…daddy…” you call out desperately, hands thrusting into the sheets to scramble for something to keep you earth-bound.

“You gonna come for me?” Joel says, hovering only for a brief moment above your clit to ensure you maintain your high. “Come on, come for your daddy,” he finishes, diving right back onto your clit and thrusting a second finger into you along with the first, honing in on your blessed g-spot like he had it marked on a map of you from the second he met you.

All said and done, it takes him minutes to bring you to the brink of destruction, where you’re squeezing around his practiced fingers and arching for the sky, screaming exactly what he’d instructed you to call him.

His mouth remains warm and diligent against you as you work through the throes, pulling the full extent of your pleasure to its frayed ends, until you’re pushing him away with trembling hands to get some reprieve.

Joel’s head falls against your thigh as he levels his breathing, soaked fingers streaking your hip. The bed frame wobbles as he starts to grind against the mattress.

“Goddamn. I usually make your mama come at least three times before I even stick my dick inside her. But feelin' how tight your little cunt is clenching on my fingers I’d be a damn fool not to take a test drive right fuckin’ now. One’ll have to be enough.”

You whimper, your legs falling open to accommodate his broadness as he moves up your body. Your fist tugs at his shirt as you say, “Wanna see you too.”

Joel glances down at himself and gives a little wince. “Not nearly as pretty as you are, sweet girl.”

“I don’t care.”

Joel sighs, sitting back on his haunches. “Alright, but you ain’t gettin’ the whole rigmarole,” he says, reaching behind him to grab the back collar of his shirt and pull it over his head, damning it with the rest of your clothes on the floor. His cock is quickly freed of its confines as the godforsaken pile builds, and you get your first real look at him.

And for all the little white lies Joel tells, you have to give him credit. The boasting was not borne of a necessity for overcompensation.

Joel is big.

You should have guessed. In every passing gloat from Joel, your mother has never argued the opposite. She only ever grows embarrassed, smacks him lightly for being crass.

Apparently his doting compliments and pussy-eating prowess are not the only reasons she’s kept him around.

“‘M I what you expected, sweet girl?” Joel asks, his eyes hooded as a hand strokes down the length of himself with a casual, justified pride that only exists in men who are impressively sized and they know it.

The dumbfounded expression on your face refuses to dissipate as you shake your head “no”, followed by a flurry of rapid blinking as you nod your head “yes”. Then a confounded response sputters out, “I-I didn’t know what to expect. You always said…but I didn’t….”

“‘S okay, darlin’. Normal for a girl to go cockdumb when she sees a dick like this for the first time.”

You just nod, a woman possessed by her deepest, darkest desires, regardless of how sick and depraved they may be to the sound mind.

And, god help you, you are not currently of sound mind. Maybe you couldn’t prove that in a court of law, but in your own psyche, you certainly are clearly lacking in the logic sector at the moment.

Joel really has nothing to be concerned with in the looks department. Your eyes are transfixed on one thing only, up until your field of view is robbed of it, replaced by the glassy-eyed lust on Joel’s face as he drapes over you.

“Fuck,” Joel groans, his expression nearly pained as he takes in the enraptured silence of you. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. I just can’t stop thinkin’ about how your mama must’ve felt before she pushed you out. This is the closest I’ll ever get to feelin’ that for myself.”

A whine escapes you as you wrap your arms under the backs of your knees, deliberately spreading yourself as wide as you can for him with blatant intentions. Let him feel it for himself. You’re so hungry for him, you feel fit to burst over it. You’ll be the newer model of her. You’ll be a tight, young hole for him. You’ll give him what she hasn’t been giving him, what you haven’t overheard in weeks from their bedroom.

“Fuck yeah, sweet girl,” Joel moans, positioning his cock at your waiting entrance. “Show me how your mama felt twenty years ago.”

You’re certain your own fall from grace should not feel so heavenly. But the first shove of Joel’s cock inside you toes a line dangerously close to a reckoning. The stretch of your walls around him, the death grip you have on your assured destruction, the fullness he’s wrought upon you nothing short of gluttonous satisfaction.

“Daddy, that’s so good,” you sigh into his ear, and it earns you a rumbling grunt as he bottoms out.

“Jesus, baby,” he moans, burying his face into your neck. “She teach you how to keep it this tight for me?”

She.

He sinks inside you, makes room inside his wife’s daughter for himself, and how thoughtlessly her identity is reduced to…she.

Your breath hitches as Joel pulls out to the head and he slams the full length of him into you, your ankles locking at the small of his back, your wrists around his neck.

You’ve heard Joel’s sex noises countless times before across the hall, muffled by closed doors. He’s an entirely different animal when you’re mainlining his sounds, his words directly into your ear. The scratch of thirty years of cigarettes in his moans, the chant of the devil in his terms of endearment, the authoritative intonation of a guardian.

He beats inside you like a drum, a deafening reverberation, punching air out of your lungs with every punitive thrust. His balls slap against the split of your ass like the muted clap of hi-hat cymbals, keeping tempo for you as your mind drifts away.

Flashes of reality wade through your hedonistic bliss, like they’re desperate to haul you to shore, save you from this entirely avoidable fate, resuscitate your suffocated sanity. Your brain beseeches you to notice your glaringly exposed circumstances. Your bedroom door as ajar as your mouth moaning for him, your window curtains spread wide as your legs, your ceiling light as illuminated as your soul emitting the final streaks of vibrancy before the sun sets at dusk.

You’re recklessly laid bare for Joel and the world around you. A single rogue pair of eyes could end that world as you know it. Your mother could walk through the front door, down the hall at any moment. Even still, your heels dig into his flesh to hold him inside you, your skin yearns for the drag of his hair-spattered potbelly against your soft stomach.

You long to be full of more than just his cock.

Through hiccuping breaths you say, “Come inside me.”

Joel lets out a conflicted keen as the pendulum of his hips swing. “I can’t, baby. We can’t.”

Your fingers tug at his hair as you whine like a child in protest. “I’m on birth control. I promise.”

Joel’s breath grows labored as his orgasm looms over him, a strain in his voice as he wrestles with your pleading request.

“Fuck,” he yells out, his hips stilling inside you as you moan on his cock, high on the prospect of his spend painting your insides with sin.

But you don’t feel him throbbing, pulsing within your walls. He’s not winded and gasping from a climax wrung from your clutch.

“Daddy…?”

“I can’t, baby.”

“Please. I need it inside me.”

Joel groans, but his cock drags free of your pussy, leaving you empty and fundamentally altered. Joel’s hand brushes across your forehead, a boundless devotion in his eyes. “How about I shoot my load inside your mouth, huh? So you can have part of me in your belly. You wanna suck your sloppy cunt off daddy’s cock?”

A broken moan slips out of you as you stare down the layers of what seems a lot like love in his gaze. Maybe more than one kind of love. Something more akin to a convoluted amalgamation of parental, platonic, sexual, worshipful love and affection.

A warm hand cups your cheek and you nod in compliance to his suggestion. Joel’s lips press a kiss against your forehead, leaving a burn in its wake. He takes your hand and leads you off the bed with him. He doesn’t have to ask, you just drop to your knees in a showing of submission.

“You felt how big daddy is. Think you can fit him?”

“I can,” you state assuredly. You take initiative, gripping the base of him and gliding up and down your stepfather’s cock with your own slick.

“You sure? She’s able to take all of it, but it’s a struggle. So be real positive.”

“I can do it,” you say confidently, poising his tip at your mouth.

“Go ahead and show me, then.”

You take him into your mouth and you half expect him to dissolve on your tongue. A Eucharist to tide you over until he spills his wine, heady and white across your supplicant taste buds.

But he’s solid, hefty as he slides deeper, a presence unignorable.

“That’s it, sweet girl. All the way back,” he coaxes, and a whimper seeps out from you around his girth. His hand strokes over your hair in blessing as he knocks at the back of your throat, your face screwing up as your reflexes activate. You stave off the worst of them, eyes watery as they gaze up at him. “Still got more to go.”

You nod as gently as you can, feeling the strain in your jaw.

“Daddy’s gonna fuck your face. Loosen you up a bit, okay?”

A greedy noise of approval from you and Joel’s fingers are entwining in your hair, gripping hard enough to pleasantly sting. Your mouth is wet and drooling when Joel pulls your head off of him, until just the tip weighs down your tongue.

“She digs her fingernails into her palm to make it easier. Don’t know if that helps.”

You whimper and glance down at your hand. You’ve already got half-moon crescents piercing the heel of it. Timidly, you open it up to reveal it to him.

A throaty growl fills your ears as he tightens his hold on your hair. “Like mother, like daughter, I guess.”

Like mother, like daughter.

There’s a loud grunt and Joel is fucking into your mouth with little mercy. Your dry lips crack to accommodate the size of him, your cheeks concaving to maximize his sensation, and the back of your throat taking a beating as his head punches the tender flesh with impeccable rhythm.

As your one hand threatens to prick blood under the pressure of your nails, the other seeks to draw it from Joel’s hip. You’re not trying to stop him, or even harm him, but you need him to feel what he’s doing to you. How certifiably insane he has you, a puppet with holes for him to fill and control. You’re a living, breathing creature, but he fucks your mouth like you have no need to breathe at all.

You’d inhale through your nose, but it’s clogged with snot and running in rivulets down to your lips, servicing him with further lubrication for your debasement. The salty wet cascading down your cheeks blurs your vision as you force yourself to maintain precious eye contact with him.

There’s a divine burst of air in your lungs as your head is wrenched from Joel’s cock, and you cough and sputter, willing yourself to suck in the sex-tainted oxygen around you.

Joel’s hand cups your jaw, smearing the mixture of snot, saliva, and tears on your skin. “You’re gonna take me deeper this time. All the fuckin’ way back. Wanna feel your goddamn nose smashed against my belly button.”

You sniffle your congested nostrils, but nod. You’re not sure why you say it, but you whisper, your voice distorted by stuffiness, “Fix me.”

A pitying noise falls from his throat as he slides his thumb into your mouth for you to suck in pacification. “Ain’t nothin’ need fixin’. You just needed a better daddy. ‘N that’s what I’m here for.”

A muted sob puffs around his finger, and you think you might see glistening in Joel’s eyes for a passing second. But he clears his throat and it’s gone, his hand around the base of his cock again and his thumb prying open your mouth.

When the head of him pushes past the block of your throat, Joel’s grunt could probably be heard by the neighbors. Nevermind that where you now stand is in perfect frame of your first floor window, a glowing halo at the side of your house. The alarm on your bedside table blinks 12:35 AM, so the Christensens are likely fast asleep. But although you may have a fence, Douglas and Cheryl have a second floor, where their bedroom window could peer right into yours.

And yet you stay on your knees, unhinging your jaw for the eight, maybe nine, inches of cock your stepfather is feeding down your throat while your mother is absent, getting reamed by her boss or coworker or friend's friend ten miles away. You’re sure the view is remarkable. A perfect, vignetted cameo portrait of familial implosion.

Your mother most certainly did not raise a quitter, that much is evident when the last inch of Joel’s length is seated in your mouth and your nose contorts at the prominent curve of his stomach, just like he wished. Joel’s arms are secured around your head, holding you to his gut in a manner that might be endearing and benign if you weren’t simultaneously choking around his entire cock.

Instead he’s cutting off your air supply and using his unyielding embrace to rutt into your throat in short bursts as you fight not to eject him.

The mess when you resurface is notable. If you were still trapped in that dress, the front of it would be sodden, soaked through with spit. You’re not sure there’s a spot on your face that isn’t coated in some form of your own fluids — the slobber from your mouth smearing over Joel’s hairy abdomen and transferring to your forehead and temples, and even more rivers of saliva dripping onto the carpet.

You feel debauched and torn apart, and you still croak, “Again.”

Nails in your palms do nothing for you now. You've already crucified yourself.

Once he’s buried deep again, he secures the back of your head with a single arm, and then you feel the breadth of his other hand around your throat.

“God fuckin’ dammit,” Joel groans out, nearly as wrecked as you’ve been all evening. “Can feel my cock in there.”

Joel’s hips move in staccato jabs, just to feel the glide of his fat head demolishing your throat through the skin of your neck pressed against his hand. If you hadn’t tapped rapidly at his hip, gasping for air, you fear he may have been content to die there.

You collapse onto your hands and knees, rasping and pulling air into your deprived lungs, cheek colliding with the dampened carpet as you catch your breath.

“What a fuckin’ trooper. You are a one-of-a-kind wonder, sweet girl,” Joel pants out, hands on his knees and his cock angry and purpling as it bobs and jerks in denial of its orgasm.

Through your slouching to find your breath, you smile.

“Let’s give you a little break, huh? Come and give daddy’s balls a little kiss.”

He clasps a hand on your bicep, helping you back up onto your knees as you regain composure. You’re a bit wobbly, but you ground yourself with hands on his thighs, resting your forehead just to the side of the root of him. Your tongue lolls out and swipes up his sack in a languid stroke.

Joel hums his approval above you, his hand reclaiming its place on the back of your head lightly. With his guidance you dip down, slipping one of his balls into your mouth as he moans out praises.

His balls are large and lush with hair, on par with the rest of him. They hang low, dangling inches down into the space between his thighs. You cradle them in your hand as you caress them with your tongue, sinuses slowly draining as his concentrated musk penetrates your nostrils, filling your olfactory senses with him. You pop one of his balls out of your mouth to pamper the other in equal measure.

Joel begins to pull at his cock with long, tempered strokes. “Fuck, that’s right sweet girl. Treat ‘em real gentle. Might have a little brother or sister in there.”

You whine as you widen your mouth, succeeding in fitting the pair of them inside thanks to your sufficiently stretched jaw, properly warmed up from his dick.

“Shit,” Joel says, the faintest hint of laughter in his voice as he gasps, branding at the waist slightly at the overwhelm of your hot mouth encasing him. “‘F that greedy pussy ever clamps around me again like this filthy mouth is…might even be a son or daughter in there too.”

You moan a little too passionately at that, your mouth packed full of possibilities, and Joel’s hips jolt forward at the sensation, a pleasurable noise of his own spilling out.

“Jesus, can’t moan when I say shit like that. You’re gonna make me…” Joel groans again flexing around his cock. “Gonna have to hit it from the back next time. ‘Lot easier to not just blow my load up that cunt when I don’t got you lookin’ up at me with them puppy dog eyes, beggin’ your daddy to come inside you.”

Next time.

How do you feel about a next time?

You don’t even know what’s going to greet you come daylight.

Joel’s fingers yank on your hair as your mouth works dutifully on his balls, finally saying, “Fuck, daddy needs to come, sweet girl.”

He slips from your mouth, but it opens again for him instantly as he starts to jack himself in earnest. He lays the trickling head on your tongue as he grunts and gasps, and you raise a hand to tease at his balls, squeezing them tenderly as you see his eyes roll in response.

“Fuck, fuck, open up for me, little mama,” he groans, signaling the first thick burst of spend shooting to the back of your raw throat. Joel growls his way through his climax, rope after never-ending rope of come pooling on your tongue until it overflows the corners of your lips and down your chin and neck.

Joel swears as his pulses slow to a stop, taking the tip of his cock and dragging it over the puddle of him on your tongue, spilling more from your mouth and down your tits. “Good girl,” he pants, finally withdrawing his dick. “Swallow for daddy.”

You obey eagerly, pushing all he gave you to the back of your throat to join where the rest of him had already been. You present your clean tongue, preening slightly, and Joel returns a sleepy, immensely proud grin.

There’s a scraping at the front door, and you both dart your heads to the open doorway.

“Shit!” Joel bites out panicked under his breath, shattering what you both have built as he bolts out the door, pulling yours shut as well as his own in his marathon back to the bedroom he shares with your mother.

You hear the front door open and you’re snapped out of your daydream of a night, lunging for your light switch to kill any suspicions of you being conscious. You flatten your hands against the back of your door, pressing an ear to the wood as you stifle your breathing.

You hear the noise on the television cut to silence, then footsteps. The door across the hall squeaks open and…nothing, save for the faint sound of fabricated snoring. You hear your mother sigh, the two thumps of her heels kicking off, and then, “Might as well be right where I left you.”

A stretch of silence, then you hear the low hum of her voice in a string of words that sounds like, “‘F I could, I’d probably just leave you altogether.”

You hear her feet padding down the hall, then the snick of the fridge in the kitchen.

As quiet as you possibly can, you twist the handle of your door and peek through a small gap. Joel lays naked on his stomach on top of their sheets, back rising and falling with his breath, facing you as his head dents his pillow on the bedside closest to the door.

The protector’s side.

And as silent as you tried to be, you see Joel’s eyes squint open directly at you as your door opens. You stare each other down, and you feel your heart begin to pound.

When your lip starts trembling, you close the door.

It’s not until you’re nestled under your covers that you realized what he had called you when he’d come across your tongue.

—

The morning comes uneventful, despite your entire world shifting on its axis. A normal Saturday. You exit your room just as your mother is tidying the kitchen table of breakfast and Joel is starting up the shower in their bedroom.

“Mornin’, blossom. You want some eggs?”

She seems as chipper as ever, scraping off plates and putting them in the dishwasher.

“Uh, no. Thanks,” you dismiss, heading straight for the couch and curling up as you grab the remote.

She joins you shortly after, folding her legs up under her in a frightening mirror of your own.

“I’m sorry about that boy, sweet pea.”

“Hmm?” You ask, looking away from the TV to observe her.

“J told me about what happened with the boy. He’s definitely a dummy.”

“Oh,” you say once you realize what she’s talking about. Truth be told, you haven’t spared that boy a second thought since Joel wrapped his arm around you last night. “It’s whatever. Boys come and go, right?”

“Some of ‘em stay,” she says, glancing down the hall to the sounds of the shower.

You follow her gaze, undoubtedly battling the dissonance in her head of what she’d done last night, and who was waiting for her back at home.

Only she doesn’t know that he wasn’t up pacing over her. He wasn’t waiting for her at all. And it might just be in your own head, but you hope he was maybe the slightest bit…disappointed at the sound of the front door.

You probably shouldn’t be thinking that.

You see the confliction swimming in her eyes, and you place a hand over hers.

“But some of them aren’t going to stay forever if you’re giving them a good reason to leave, mom.”

Her eyes meet yours, tears brimming and threatening to break. “How do you…?”

“You could see it from space, mom. And he can too.”

She brings a knuckle to her waterline, dabbing at the tears before they can fall and muddy her mascara. She sniffles and shrugs with a raised hand, letting it fall back down in a helpless gesture.

“I don’t know what the hell I’m doin’, sweet pea,” she says, letting out a small, pitiful sob. You clasp your hand over hers and squeeze, feeling your own eyes begin to prick at seeing your mother choked up. “You ever…like you get so comfortable, things are goin’ so good, that you start to get anxious? And before you know it…you’re…you’re sabotagin’ yourself. Throwin’ stones, tearin’ down everythin’ that ever brought you a lick’a happiness. Like…like you need to destroy it before it destroys you?”

A lump forms in your throat as she speaks, and you clench your hand a little harder than you intend to. It hits you pretty hard, the reality of it all. Joel is in the shower, washing your dried spit and slick from his cock. Maybe even with your mother’s soap. Wiping away what didn’t already rub off on their shared sheets.

“Yeah, mom,” you say, your throat scratchy from more than just the emotional influx. “I know exactly what you mean.”

The memories come back in succession. Joel’s hand on your bare thigh. Your dress dropping to the floor. Coming on his mouth, his fingers. His cock pushing inside for the first time. His hand feeling his length down your throat. His spend dribbling from your lips.

You deserve a man.

Good girl.

Swallow for daddy.

Why did you do it? That safety, that security Joel has been for you since you were a teenager. The reliable presence, always sitting in that chair three feet to your right. Sipping his beer, spilling on the remote, losing potato chips in the couch cushions.

It’s all twisted up now with memories of his naked body, his satanic tongue and devilish grin, the stretch of his cock that you’ve now felt inside you — still feel inside you, if you’re honest. The soreness persists in the entrance of your pussy, the wall of your cervix, the column of your throat. Evidence of your betrayal to the one who gave you life.

She granted you breath, and you used it to moan “daddy” beneath her husband. Allowed him to take that breath from you as you gagged on the very flesh that makes your mother gasp his name in the sanctity of their marriage bed.

Maybe your mother desecrated it first, but he and you…he and you incinerated it. Rolled around and fucked in the ashes.

She may have gathered her train, lifted her dress for someone else. But the veil hasn’t been removed yet. And you’re nowhere near ready to admit to her that she no longer has somewhere to sleep. She can remain blind for now.

A tear finally drips free down your cheek.

“Yeah, mama. You…you have no idea. How well I know.”

A watery smile crosses her face and she leans toward you, cupping your face in her hands. “We’re gonna be okay, blossom. We get through shit, don’t we? Can’t take us down.”

You nod in her hands, the lump in your throat closer to a golf ball now. “Yeah, mama.”

She strokes the plush of your cheek, wiping at your lone tear track. Then something captures her interest, and she draws back, tilting her head.

“You let him do that to you before he dumped you?”

You furrow your brows, unable to follow her line of sight where it lands at your neck. “Let him do what?”

“Got a hickey the size of Texas there, sweet pea,” your mother giggles, brushing her thumb over your throat.

Your stomach lurches, your eyes masking panic. You’d flown too close to the sun. Reckless, stupid, irresponsible. Let him defile your skin with nicotine-yellowed teeth and a thick, adulatory tongue.

It’s written on your face, on your neck, plain as day. How does she not know? How does she not see?

Because her only daughter, a child sprung from her womb when she was just a mere child herself, would never do that to her. An act so treasonous is unthinkable. Laughable. Not worth a fleeting thought.

To her.

To you…that very thought has been brewing since you were fourteen, alone in your room, the pads of your fingers pruned and your mutinous mind alive.

What if it wasn’t her? What if it was me? What would he say to me?

You deserve a man. Good girl. Swallow for daddy.

Your mother just smiles, oblivious to the context of her observation and the wretchedness within you.

“It’s okay! Nothin’ a little makeup can’t cover, huh?”

Your palms sweat as you nod.

“Come on,” she says, gripping your hand in hers as she stands, guiding you along with her. “I’ll help you. It’ll be like old times when I used to give you makeovers.”

You are hyper-aware of the slickness of your hand in hers.

She has to know, she has to know, she has to know.

But she doesn’t.

Words jam in your ravaged throat, no longer loosened by your stepfather’s brutal misconduct, as you silently follow after her into her room. She ushers you on the bed as she gathers her makeup from her vanity.

She sits beside you, smiling as she begins to tap concealer onto the bruise. “Cover it up, and it’s as good as gone. Never gotta see the boy who gave it to you again.”

You nod again lightly, your eyes falling closed as she pats at your skin. The shower turns off in the bathroom, and the sickness in your stomach roils again.

He’s washed you off now, smelling of her eucalyptus shower steamers. He bears no marks. He shares no burden. Honor by marriage is not honor by blood.

Hence why your mother’s affair can blow over. It can be fixed. Swept under the rug, forgiven in confessionals and late-night whispers during love-making.

But betrayal like this? Of daughter to mother at the hands of a father and husband? That’s Armageddon. And you didn’t pay much attention in church growing up, but you listened enough to know…the apostates are destined to lose.

Rummaging noises bleed from the bathroom, and your mother glances toward the door.

“Joel Miller, you stay in that bathroom for a minute. We’re havin’ a mother-daughter bondin’ moment in here,” she calls out to him with a broad grin, loud enough for him to hear it through the closed door.

Bonding. Oh, yes, you’re very bonded now.

“Should just attach you two at the hip while we’re at it,” he calls back. “You share damn near everythin’ with each other.”

You can't decide if he said that on purpose. If he’s twisted enough to joke about your circumstances to your mother’s naïve listening ear, or if he really is just a dense-headed dumbass, ignorant of the magnitude of his words and actions.

Regardless of how he meant it, the blush pink gossamer blur smoothing over the events from last night is beginning to slip away, the images sharpening each passing moment that you spend with your mother. What your mind was attempting to bang down your door over, grabbing hold of your thoughts to try and thrust you into reality, is finally coming into focus.

You can’t come back from this.

And what was it all for?

The sun shines through the open drapes of the window onto your mother’s back as she smiles and shakes her head at Joel’s comment, the shade cast over you shifting gently with her movement. She rolls her eyes in good-natured jest as she unknowingly conceals the mark of the devil on your neck.

Both her devil and your own.

Taglist Update: I have decided to decommission my taglist in favor of an updates blog! Please follow @atticrissfinchupdates and opt in for notifications to get notified when I post a new fic!

Visit here for instructions on how to get a tab just for the blogs you’ve subscribed to at the top of your tumblr page!

349 notes · View notes

dark-fics-4-you · 20 hours

Text

Number One Fan ch. IV

Dark!stepbro!Rafe Cameron x f!Reader (with a side of JJ Maybank x f!Reader)

Warnings: noncon (aka rape), incest (step siblings), forced sex, mentions of past noncon, loss of virginity, unprotected sex, unwanted creampie, violence, abduction, gaslighting, m!receiving masturbation, reader has some ptsd like symptoms from past noncon

Previous Chapter

Sarah had been the first to call out the fact that you were acting differently. After all, the entire family was staying together over winter break and with no classes or extracurricular activities to take up anyone’s time, your absence was noticeable.

Despite all of your reassurances that you were okay, Sarah would not stop pressing you.

“It’s just that you’re holed up in your room basically 24/7, Y/N. I’m starting to get a little worried. All of us are actually, at dinner last night Rafe could not shut up about you.”

At the mention of your step brother’s name your stomach flipped, nerves flaring as you thought about him.

The party had happened a couple weeks ago, but that night had been heavy in your mind ever since. After Rafe confirmed that he hadn’t been in your room that night, you had tried to write it all off as some twisted dream, but the shadowy memories that had been coming back to you since were eating you alive.

Everything about it had felt so real. Each time you looked back on it, you seemed to remember another detail, another reason to question yourself and your step-brother.

Rafe had told you he hadn’t came into your room the next morning when you asked him about it, but the details weren’t adding up.

The entire situation didn’t sit right with you.

You wanted so badly to brush it all of, to assume it was just a bad dream, but you also didn’t want to think that your brain was capable of conjuring up a situation as nightmarish and nauseating as your step brother sneaking into your room and eating you out.

Another thing that you couldn’t get out of your mind was how drunk Rafe had been trying to get you that night. Not only that, but he had given you some coke, which was a rare occurrence. Any other time you had asked to try it, your older brother declined, telling you that he cared about you too much to risk you getting addicted.

The few times he had ever let you do a line was in the house, on a night no one was throwing a party, where you both knew it would be a safe environment. He had never let you do coke a party, much less offered it to you.

You hadn’t even thought to question it at the time, too intoxicated to think twice, but now you felt suspicious.

For the first time in your life, you were incredibly uncomfortable being around your older step brother.

Tannyhill was huge, but Rafe’s looming presence made it feel small.

Leaving your room became an anxiety inducing ordeal, you were never sure if you would bump into him and have to pretend like you weren’t reliving the sensation of his lips sliding over yours, the way his mouth felt wrapped around your clit, the feeling of his fingers pumping inside of your slick cunt, or how good it felt to come undone onto his fingers and tongue.

The worst was how much every one of his touches now set your skin on fire. Whereas before the party, you had never been one to shy away from displaying physical affection with your older brother, now the thought of it made a pit of dread grow in your stomach.

You were even more ashamed of the fact that you had even noticed yourself growing wet when Rafe was around.

Once, after his low voice reached your ears from behind and he wrapped his arms around waist, picking you up and spinning you around before setting you back down, your cheeks warmed and you squeezed your thighs together when you felt a hot warmth between your legs, quietly mumbling an excuse before running to your room, where you stayed the rest of the night in ashamed confusion.

Another time, after Rafe had noticed you watching TV on the living room couch, wearing one of your cute, little tennis dresses (that he had bought for you), he sat next to you and asked you to cuddle up to him, like you had so many times before. This time, when you climbed into his lap, you couldn’t focus on the show at all, instead praying that your step brother couldn’t feel your panties growing damp from the close proximity to him.

What you didn’t know was that Rafe had a good idea of why you were acting differently. He knew that you must have some memory of that night, and he had been getting immense enjoyment from your discomfort and squirming.

Although he did wish that you had remembered less so you would go on being the oblivious, sweet little sister he had gotten used to. Rafe didn’t like that you had withdrawn yourself from him so much.

Sarah cleared her throat in front of you with a nervous laugh, and you realized you had zoned out right in front of her for several seconds longer than was normal.

“I’m just still feeling really tired from the last semester still,” you lied, nervously looking down as you played with a strand of your hair.

Sarah raised an eyebrow doubtfully, before shaking her head and taking a step closer to you before wrapping her arms around you in a hug.

“I’m here for you, Y/N.” She whispered into your hair as she squeezed you a little tighter. “You know you can always talk to me about anything.”

Her words were kind, and you felt guilty for ignoring her for the past few weeks and thankful that she was offering some friendship.

“And Rafe too.” Sarah added as she stepped away from the hug, and your blood ran cold.

“I know he may act distant at times but he really loves you, Y/N.” She continued, unaware of the nausea growing in your gut. “He can’t shut up about how weird it is that you’ve been ignoring all of us. I think he misses you but doesn’t know how to tell you.”

“Um, yeah,” you managed. Your mouth felt so dry and you could feel your heartbeat picking up. Your ears felt like they were stuffed with cotton, but there was a high pitched ringing that was still forcing it’s way to the middle of your forehead.

“Anyways me, John B, and the rest of the Pogues were gonna go to the Wreck in half an hour, would you want to come along?” Sarah smiled at you and you felt excited about something for the first time in a while.

You hadn’t seen JJ since the party and you had been ignoring all of his calls, upset that he had skipped out on the party without saying anything to you.

Maybe if you met up with him and talked one-on-one, you could finally put this behind you and get back to the good relationship you had with JJ before.

You told Sarah yes and she lit up before telling you to get ready and going back into her room to pick her outfit out.

You turned away from her to walk back to own room when a noise from just down the hall caught your attention.

Your head swiveled to Rafe’s closed door and you heard a sound that sounded like your name from the inside.

Concerned for your brother, you walked to the door and knocked twice.

“Rafe? Are you okay?” You called out from the other side of the closed door and you heard a muffled, “fuck!” come from inside.

“Rafe?” You asked again, now somewhat more concerned.

“One second!” His voice sounded strained and you waited for several moments before he finally cracked his door. He was shirtless and only wearing boxers and you nervously averted your eyes away from his body.

“What, Y/N/N?”

“Oh, I thought I heard you say my name, I’m sorry.”

“Well I didn’t.”

You silently swallowed, nervous because Rafe was standing so close and towering over you.

“Um, Sarah and I are gonna go to the Wreck with the other Pogues soon, just thought I’d let you know.”

“Cool.” His blue eyes didn’t reveal anything, and you almost missed the way they flicked down and then up your body quickly. “Don’t have too much fun.”

You nervously laughed, assuming your older brother would join in, but he didn’t even crack a smile before he quickly shut his door in front of you.

Weird, you thought to yourself before turning back to walk to your room, trying not to dwell on it too much.

You picked out a simple, but cute dress. It was white with a mid thigh length skirt and a light green floral pattern. The thin straps revealed your shoulders and the cut was very flattering. You were sure Sarah and Kie would love it.

On the other side of Rafe’s door, he sat on his bed again, freeing his erection from the tight fabric of his boxers and grabbing his phone. He opened up the pic of you passed out at the party with your slick cunt on display for him, before wrapping his hand around his cock and finishing what you had just unknowingly interrupted.

When you arrived at the Wreck with Sarah, the Pogues were quick to rush out and hug you, happily filling you in on all the things you had missed. Although, you noticed that JJ had hung back and he was nervously looking at you from a safe distance. You also couldn’t help but spot the faded scar above his eye that you hadn’t seen before.

You were still upset with him, but it also hurt to see him looking so upset, knowing that it was only because you had been ignoring him.

Kie and John B were telling you an insane story about being chased by an alligator after the Twinkie got stuck in a swamp as you all walked inside and sat down at a table.

You were happily surprised when JJ sat across from you, shooting you a small smile, which you returned.

Your orders were taken pretty quickly, and you were happy that it felt like the group dynamics hadn’t faded at all in your absence, and they hadn’t changed now that you had returned.

Kie, John B, Sarah, and Pope had all gotten sucked into an argument over whether hot dogs were sandwiches or not, and you met JJ’s eyes for real for the first time since the party.

“So.. what happened?”

“That’s what I’ve been trying to explain to you, Y/N, but you’ve been dodging all my calls.” JJ said exasperatedly, but not loudly enough to pull the other Pogues away from their riveting hot dog discourse.

You sighed, looking away before mumbling, “I was just really upset that you bailed on me. A-and I’ve been dealing with some other shit too.”

“I’m sorry,” JJ apologized empathetically. “It was never my intention to hurt you. I was at the party.”

At this admission, your eyebrows rose in surprise, “you were?”

“Yeah, and your brother’s meathead football teammates wouldn’t let me inside. Gave me this as a party favor,” he gestured to the small scar above his brow and you now noticed the mostly faded bruising on his eyelid.

“What the hell?” You asked in disbelief. “Why would they do that?”

“I dunno,” he shook his head. “They told me Rafe said no Pogues allowed, and they didn’t like it when I tried to sneak past them.”

JJ laughed, but you were frowning now.

Why would Rafe have gotten his friends to stop JJ from coming in after he had promised you that you could throw your own party that night?

“I tried to call you to explain, but you never picked up…” JJ sadly finished, trailing off as he twisted one of his rings.

“Shit JJ, I’m sorry. I was so angry with you, I just assumed that you hadn’t come to the party at all.”

A french fry flew across the air and lightly wacked into your face, surprising you and causing the other side of the table to burst into laughter before you and JJ joined as well.

“Are you two lovebirds gonna talk to us at all?” Kie laughed, and you and JJ both blushed and exchanged grins before turning your attention back to the group.

The rest of the night went well. The awkwardness between you and JJ had mostly faded, and was now replaced with a new excitement at the idea that perhaps you and JJ could still continue your relationship.

After paying the bill, you all walked out into the parking lot, still laughing and joking around.

You began your goodbyes, hugging all of your friends before getting to JJ last. Sarah got the hint from your pointed glance that you’d prefer if she stayed in the car for a second so you could talk to JJ.

As the rest of your friends got in their cars and drove off, the two of you smiled at each other before embracing and you laughed when JJ picked you up and spun you around.

He had pulled you in to hug you again after setting you on your feet when all of the sudden, he was violently ripped away from you, causing you to almost lose your balance.

You heard the gasp from JJ as you lurched forward and your eyes widened at the sight of Rafe releasing JJ before punching him across the jaw, and knocking him to the ground.

“Rafe!” You screamed at him in terror and confusion, but he just ignored you.

“Are you trying to fuck my little sister? Huh, Maybank?” Rafe screamed at JJ, and you couldn’t stop the tears that were streaming down your face as you watched him punch JJ again.

Your pulse was racing in your ears as you helplessly watched, too shocked and frozen in place to intervene.

At this point, Sarah had noticed what was happening and ran from her car, yelling at Rafe to stop. When she rushed over to them, desperately trying to pull Rafe off of JJ, Rafe roughly shoved her to the ground.

“Stay the fuck out of it, Sarah!” He spat at her angrily.

While he was momentarily distracted with Sarah, JJ swung at him, his fist connecting with Rafe’s cheek this time.

“Don’t push her like that!” JJ yelled as you rushed over to Sarah to help her off of the ground.

“Are you okay?!”

“Yeah, I’ll be fine,” she gasped as you pulled her to her feet and stepped away from Rafe and JJ, watching as the two stared each other down with hate filled eyes.

JJ faked left before going right, but Rafe quickly ran at him, tackling the other blond to the ground and landing multiple blows on his face.

You and Sarah were screaming again, and this time, you were the one to try to pull Rafe away.

With all of your strength, you ran at Rafe, knocking him off of JJ and onto his side beneath you, but he recovered faster than you, and you whimpered when his hand closed tightly around your wrist and you were pulled to your feet.

Rafe had given up on attacking JJ now; his only objective was to get you away from Sarah and that Pogue scum.

“What are you doing, Rafe??” Sarah yelled at him as she rushed over to JJ to check on him, torn between staying by his side and running over to help you.

“Sarah!” You yelped as he tugged you further away from her and towards his parked truck.

“We’re gonna go for a little drive. We’ll be back later.” Rafe yelled over his shoulder at Sarah before he opened his car door and shoved you inside, quickly locking the door before you could escape and walking to the driver’s side door.

He unlocked it, climbing inside and relocking the doors quicker than you could open yours and you slammed on the window in frustration before glaring at him.

As he sped out of the parking lot, you looked back to see Sarah kneeling over JJ in tears.

“Where the fuck are you taking me?” You demanded, anger evident in your voice.

Rafe was silent, his blue eyes locked on the road as he tore through the back

“Turn the fuck around and take me back now! What is wrong with you?!” You hissed, wiping away more tears that wouldn’t stop falling.

“No.” He responded, irritation growing on his face.

Frustration and anger festered inside of you as you glared at your step brother before turning your head to watch the trees fly past you as Rafe accelerated.

“You missed the turn for our house, idiot.”

“We’re not going back to the house until you calm down,” his tone was hard and demeaning, like he was talking down to a child.

“You’re the one who needs to calm down, Rafe!” You snapped at him and he rolled his eyes. “You could have killed him!”

Rafe laughed at that, but it completely lacked humor, “JJ’s been getting too close to you recently, Y/N. I told you he’s not good enough for you.”

“So that warranted you beating his face in?!”

Rafe made a sharp turn, driving towards the docks and parking the truck without a word.

The sky had begun growing dark, the last rays of crimson still stained the horizon as the sun dipped below the ocean waves.

The docks were quiet and, unusually, there seemed to be no one walking around this night.

You defiantly sat in place as Rafe opened his door and got out, coming over to your side and opening the door expectantly.

When you made no moves to exit, Rafe grabbed you, pulling you out of the car before he threw you over his shoulder, slammed the door and started walking to the docks.

At first you were too stunned to fight back, but as he continued carrying you, you began yelling at him again and beating on his back with your fists.

“Let go of me!! Put me down, Rafe! Stop it!!”

Your screams fell on deaf ears, and if there was anyone on the docks hearing the commotion, they had chosen to mind their own business and not get involved.

You couldn’t squirm out of his grasp no matter how hard you tried, and your eyes widened when his yacht finally came into view.

All of your arguing and squirming was ignored as he climbed aboard, carrying you with him.

Rafe brought you to the room below deck, throwing you onto the bed and then quickly leaving, locking the door from the outside behind him.

You helplessly grabbed at the doorknob, twisting it to no avail as you banged on the door with your fist.

“Let me out!!!” You screamed at him, straining your vocal chords in your anger.

“Rafe!!”

You heard the sound of the boat engine turn on and a chill ran down your spine as you realized the boat was moving away from the docks.

“What are you doing Rafe?!?!”

You got no response for five minutes despite your continued yelling, the entire time the boat was heading god knows where.

Just when you had given up hope that he was coming back and beginning to believe that Rafe was planning on taking you for an extended boat ride, you were surprised when you heard the motor stop and felt the anchor go down.

You heard Rafe’s footsteps on the stairs and you angrily glared at him as he walked into the room and then locked the door behind him.

“What in the world do you think you’re doing? What is wrong with you??” You shouted at your older step brother.

“JJ told me that you had your friends jump him when he tried to come to the party!” You revealed. “Is that true!”

“Yeah it is,” Rafe responded nonchalantly. “I don’t like you hanging out with scum like him. I’m just looking out for you.”

“You never butt into Sarah’s relationship with John B, he’s a Pogue too!”

“That’s different.”

“How?”

“It just is, Y/N! I don’t particularly like that Sarah’s dating John B, but I know that JJ is a bad guy! He’s gonna get you roped into bad shit, and mess up the future that you have ahead of you!”

Rafe’s words were only pissing you off more and the horrible nagging feeling that you had at the back of your brain made you say something you immediately wished you could take back.

“Did you come into my room the night of the party, Rafe?!”

“Yes!” He shouted, and you felt all of the oxygen leave the room.

The silence lingered for several moments and you could hear your blood rushing in your ears. You were so shocked you could only stare at him in disbelief.

“I came into your room that night, and that wasn’t even the first time.” Rafe’s lips curled into a sickeningly smug grin as he took in the shocked expression written all over your face.

A horrible wave of nausea passed over you as you realized the implications of his words.

Your step brother had just admitted to not only fingering you and eating you out at the party, but also to touching you other times you couldn’t even remember.

Your ears were ringing as you looked at him in shock and disgust, tunnel vision blocking out the rest of the room as you numbly watched his lips moving soundlessly.

Rafe reached for your hand and you jerked away from him, panic beginning to set in as you failed to catch your breath.

Your entire view of your step brother was being shattered as you tried to come to terms with the impossible facts that were literally staring you right in front of your face.

“I love you so much, Y/N. Everything I do has always been for you, please you have to believe me.”

You tried to stand up and get past him, desperate to leave the cramped space of the cabin, but Rafe easily grabbed you and threw you back onto the bed, climbing on top of you as you struggled beneath him.

“Get the fuck off of me, Rafe!! Please!” You screamed, begging him as he roughly grabbed your wrist and pinned it to the bed.

You had never been more terrified of your brother than in this moment. His horrible confession had changed everything.

You always knew that Rafe was strong. How could you not? He was always bragging about how much he could lift at the gym to you and bringing you along to show off. It was impossible to miss his muscles straining the fabric of his shirts when you had seen him lifting things around the house or working on his truck.

But you had never been at the mercy of Rafe’s strength until now.

You whined when he painfully twisted your wrist, and he shifted on top of you, nudging your legs apart with his knee and grinding his now obvious hard on against your clothed pussy.

A shameful, disgust settled within you when you could feel your panties growing damp with unwanted arousal.

You squirmed in his grasp, back arching as you tried to pull away. Fear gripped your throat as you looked up at Rafe in heartbroken confusion, your eyes growing blurry with tears.

“You’ve always been such a good little sister, Y/N/N.” Rafe whispered, and you let out a gasp when he shifted his hips, his clothed tip pressed to your clit, making you squeeze your eyes shut.

“Don’t you remember how good I made you feel at the party?” He groaned and you shook your head in denial.

“No, Rafe-”

“I could make you feel even better than that, Y/N.” You felt him shift again, and you tilted your head to watch him begin unzipping his shorts and removing them.

Again you felt horror and nausea rise inside of you as you saw what was coming towards you, and you were utterly powerless to stop it.

“Rafe!” You sobbed pathetically, grabbing at the hand that was clamped around your other wrist and scratching at him. “Please don’t do this. I’m sorry! I’m sorry!”

You didn’t even see his hand fly out, but you heard the slap before you felt it. Your head whipped to the side and the ringing in your ears returned as your fight was quickly sapped from your body. Your cheek felt like it was on fire from the strength behind his ringed hand.

“I really wanted to make this special for you, Y/N.” Rafe managed between gritted teeth, his grip around your wrist tightening. “But you’re making that really difficult for me when you’re acting like such a fucking brat.”

You were still too stunned to react, your eyes squeezed shut in pain as you lay limply on the bed.

The feeling of Rafe’s hand trailing beneath your dress and between your legs set a blaze across your skin. His fingertips ghosted over the edges of your pretty, lacy panties, making you shiver.

When Rafe grabbed them and started tugging them down your legs, you snapped your legs shut in an attempt to stop him, but when he glared at you and quickly reared his arm back as if he was going to slap you again, you quickly opened them to allow him to slide your panties off.

“Take this off.” He ordered you, gesturing to your dress and you swallowed dryly, knowing that there was no way to avoid doing exactly what he wanted.

Rafe let go of your bruised wrist to allow you to remove the last barrier of clothing you had on.

His eyes hungrily raked over your now completely exposed body. He had seen you naked before the other times when he had snuck into your room, but the anticipation of what was to come made you seem even more gorgeous than before, if that was even possible.

“You’re so fucking perfect,” he whispered breathlessly, but his compliment only made you feel more disgusted.

He pulled his boxers off and you looked away, too embarrassed to look at your step brother naked.

A hand clamped on your chin, turning your head and forcing you too look at him.

His cock was long and thick, and when your eyes widened at the size, Rafe chuckled.

“I’ll make it fit, Y/N/N,” he drawled, climbing between your legs again and positioning himself between them.

You tensed when you felt him rub his tip up and down your soaked slit, teasing your clit a bit and you squirmed beneath him.

Rafe looked between your legs as he slowly began sliding the tip of his cock inside of you.

“Wait, Rafe!” You whined, you hands grabbing at his shoulders to push him off.

He wordlessly grabbed your wrists, easily pinning them to the bed and using the new position to push himself deeper, stretching your cunt out more with each inch.

“Fuck,” he groaned as your tight, warm pussy squeezed around his cock.

Tears were streaming down your cheeks now as your older step brother pinned you to the bed and slowly forced himself deeper inside you.

The pressure between your legs was immense, and you had never felt so full in your life.

He bottomed out, the tip of his dick kissing your cervix, and his arms trembled slightly above you as he sucked in a shaky breath.

“God, I’m so fucking lucky my lil sis saved herself for me.”

Rafe’s words made your stomach churn, but before you could linger on them long, his lips smothered yours, and sickeningly, you realized that you recognized the feeling from the night of the party when you thought you had been kissing JJ.

You turned your head away from him to break the kiss, but his firm hand brought you back and held you in place as his lips slid over yours.

When he tilted his hips back and then slowly started push his cock back into you, you gasped into the kiss, letting his tongue to push its way into your mouth.

Rafe thrusted into you faster, picking up his pace as he finally broke the kiss and allowed you to gasp for air.

Your trembling legs wrapped around his back as you tried to steady yourself from the rocking of the bed and the feel of his length dragging along your walls.

To your embarrassment, you could feel his cock begin to slide into you easier as you grew slicker around him, but that didn’t alleviate how much he was stretching you out.

“JJ could never make you feel this good, Y/N. He doesn’t know you like I do, doesn’t know your body like I do.”

At the mention of JJ, you cried harder, tensing around him and squeezing his cock so hard he groaned.

Rafe’s lips captured yours again, hungrily kissing you as he plunged himself into you harder now.

When he pulled away, he stared into your eyes for several moments, watching your eyelids fluttering shut as you tried to keep your focus on your older step brother as his thrusts rocked your body again and again.

“Tell me you love me.”

Your cunt squeezed around him at his words, a horrible mixture of emotions flooding your body. He was one of your best friends, your older brother. You had loved him for so many years, and horribly, you still loved him right now, even as he betrayed your trust in the most violent way imaginable.

You felt so confused, not just about his actions, but now also about your body’s reaction to him forcing himself onto you.

“Y/N,” Rafe warned, his punishing thrusts bringing you back to the present. “Tell me you love me.”

“I-” you were cut off by a moan when Rafe’s fingers circled your tender clit. It was nearly impossible to think straight right now, much less form a sentence.

You swallowed, before quietly whimpering, “I love you.”

His fingers twitched against your clit, his cock was repeatedly hitting a spot that was making your head swim and vision blur. Each masterful motion of his fingers was building inside of you, pulling you closer to the brink, even though you were trying to fight the inevitable.

“I can’t fucking hear you,” Rafe growled, his pace growing downright punishing.

You were pushed over the edge suddenly, and you closed your eyes and loudly whined as you came around him. “I love you, Rafe!”

You could practically see his cocky grin as you gave him exactly what he wanted, even though your eyes were still squeezed shut as he fucked you through your orgasm.

“Fuck, baby. So tight,” Rafe groaned, still drilling into you. “Been waiting so long for this and you feel even better than I could’ve dreamed.”

Rafe’s pace stuttered and he pushed himself deep inside you, his fingertips gripping into your thighs tightly as he came, spilling his sticky cum deep inside you as you squirmed beneath him, begging him to pull out through tears.

“Rafe, please, I’m not on any birth control,” you sobbed.

He cupped your chin, roughly tugging you in to a messy kiss as he ignored your pleading.

When he finally pulled away he looked down at you dreamily, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

“I really do have the best sister ever, huh?”

#rafe cameron #dark!rafe cameron #rafe cameron noncon #stepbro!rafe cameron #dark!stepbro!rafe cameron #stepbro!rafe #stepbro!rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x reader #number one fan #dark!rafe cameron x reader #dark rafe cameron

169 notes · View notes

brainrot-of-a-thot · 1 day

Note

Greetings! I am writing to request a lovebite trope but with Suo Hayato. He is my current hyperfixation because he reminds me of Izana from Tokyo Revengers *starts playing washing mashine heart by Mitski*

love bites. [ii]

or, how do they mark you up, featuring: suo hayato, hajime umemiya, hiragi toma

a/n: I decided to combine two requests into this one, as well as rope in hiragi since I’ve gotten quite a few requests to add him! I hope this is alright with you, love — the other request was one for the love bite trope with umemiya and suo, so I figured it was a perfect way to satisfy all reqs <3

c/w: suggestive themes, lovebites/marks, hickeys, headcanon format, language

suo hayato is quite the possessive man, though he’s not as straightforward about it as some men are. his methods of possession are far more subtle; a guiding hand on your lower back when walking beside you, hugging you tightly to ensure his scent embeds itself into your clothes, buying you chic jewelry as a means of not only laying a physical claim but also proving his ability to provide.

but there is one such method of possession that suo can’t help but go overboard with — marking you up during sex. no inch of your skin is spared from his hungry mouth, though he’s very impartial to leaving nasty ones along your inner thighs and neck. he sucks your flesh into his mouth with the sole goal of making you remember them, of ensuring that they don’t fade for weeks.

these particular marks tend to be much more sore than others, even at times affecting the way in which you walk when they’re placed on your thighs. and that’s perfectly fine with suo — he finds it adorable when you try to cover up your winces with a flushed face and cute little scowl.

hiragi toma tends to become passionate and carried away during intimate moments — that’s why you can expect to find hickeys on your skin even if no sex had been involved. it’s not because that he wants to show a claim on you; it’s simply that they serve as a reminder to him of your activities.

when hiragi sees the splotchy purple marks that he left all along your collarbone and neck, it transports him right back to the moment when he put them there. he can smell the phantom traces of your soft perfume, can taste the salty tang of your sweat on his tongue, hear the sweet little mewls you released while he was sucking your flesh, wriggling your soft body against his in such a sensual way that it heats his skin just to think about it.

the only thing hiragi is cautious about is biting you; he doesn’t mind giving you small, brief nips here and there, but he’s more than aware of the kind of damage he can inflict should he accidentally lose it — so he opts for simply sucking your skin to avoid hurting you.

hajime umemiya is an expert at giving hickeys — when his lips are against your skin, you’ll feel like you’re floating. he uses just the right amount of pressure for the marks to spring up nice and dark without inflicting pain in the process. you aren’t even sure how he does it.

umemiya doesn’t typically leave marks where others can see. of course, he’s a fan of the classics, such as leaving a couple of marks along the column of your throat — but when umemiya marks you up, it’s for him and him alone. he wants to be the only one to see them after that.

which is why he tends to litter them across the tops of your breasts and right against your hip bones — of course, sucking marks into the plush flesh of your thighs is amazing too, but there’s just something so stimulating about slipping your shirt off and being met with your tits covered in his marks. it’ll have him melting into putty long before the two of you even go all the way.

I’m v sorry that these are so short — currently trying to wrap up some drafts but I wanted to give y’all more content too

#wind breaker #wind breaker x reader #windbreaker #windbreaker x reader #hajime umemiya x reader #hayato suo x reader #hiragi toma x reader

158 notes · View notes

paintbrushnebula · 22 hours

Text

Just now realized that we're gonna get to see what Gwen intentionally *trying* to flirt looks like

bc like the few times when she said really sentimental things to Miles in ATSV weren't her intending to be romantic. Like the part where she said "What I always think: You're Amazing" was the most affectionate thing she's said to Miles so far, but that was her being unusually candid out of the heavy emotion she was feeling at that moment, not genuine flirting (at least not to her).

But if she's gonna be trying to make up with Miles and maybe doing some mmhmmhmm rizzing...

And I just think that will be Very Funny to watch.

Because you see the thing with Gwen is that she's not used to being open and vulnerable, so she isn't used to just saying how she feels about someone. I think that's why her love language is physical touch.

This is probably totally me projecting, but I always interpreted that physical touch is Gwen's default way of showing affection because expressing affection with words is much more difficult for her to do. It's like her way of expressing love where words fail her. It's kinda all she thinks she's capable of giving.

(Anyone who knows me knows I'm rather touchy too. With my siblings, parents, family, etc. It's always kisses, hugs, gentle arm squeezes, all that. So I relate to this aspect of Gwen's character a lot)

But obviously, physical affection isn't enough anymore. It's cute and highly appreciated, but it won't reveal everything that lies in the heart, or explain what she believes. It's pretty clear by the end of atsv that Miles will need some words from her. Some good words.

Now what's funny to me about Gwen's rizzing potential is that we've seen what it looks like when Gwen is trying to impress someone without knowing how good her chances are. She tried to make a good impression with Miles' parents, but got really awkward and cringed at herself after every attempt at banter or friendly conversation. This was different from how she interacts with the people at the Spider Society because superheroing is her element. It's something she knows she's good at, so there's no self doubt. But Gwen's a fish out of water in domestic situations. I mean, think about the scene where Gwen invites Miles for a swing around New York. The scene that follows very clearly resembles a date, despite the fact that it's not what Gwen meant when she called him out of his window. I think that Gwen had thought about how this could've looked like she was asking him out, then proceeding to shut down any thoughts like that, denying herself that they were on a date, despite that that might've been where her mind had been. Sidebar, I headcanon that during that scene, Miles did allow himself to pretend they were on a date. But anyway, this moment still has Gwen in her element because she's calling him out to swing around the city as spider-woman. It's certainly not the same as asking to casually hang out in civilian clothes to grab a bite or whatever, which would've been much more domestic, which would've been much more difficult for Gwen to attempt at. Gwen knows what the odds are when she's Spider-Woman, but she doesn't know the odds when she's Gwen Stacy.

Gwen not knowing the odds of something working out is what actively keeps her down throughout ATSV before she returns home. She acted with pessimism, and if the chances weren't high, she didnt want to commit herself to trying something that might not work out in the end--a similar outlook I had and still kinda do have, albeit toward my creative endeavors, not romantic relationships (I don't really have experience in that arena tbh)

But now after ATSV she's throwing caution to the wind with Miles, she's gonna face the music and use words this time. And some of those words, might be romantic! Gwen is gonna have a lot to say to Miles, there's so much she'll want to express to him--has been wanting to express to him for 2 years now! A lot of gushy mushy sweet stuff perhaps! Perhaps some rizzy words, yknow? And knowing Gwen, they're probably gonna have a hard time coming out the way she'd like! And it'll probably be very funny!

for us anyway

Ahh, the mythic struggle beauty of being an introvert.

#Nebs Has a Voice and He'll Use it #made new tag for my 'sharing my thoughts' posts. hope you like it ^^#atsv #spiderverse #across the spiderverse #miles morales #spider man: across the spider verse #gwen stacy #spider gwen #ghostflower #gwiles #gwen x miles #miles x gwen #ghost spider #atsv miles #atsv gwen #beyond the spiderverse

62 notes · View notes

joelalorian · 1 day

Text

Petals of Affection - Part III

A floral mystery in three parts, featuring Jackson!Joel x f!reader

Summary: A secret admirer gifts you a different flower and a riddle ten times before you put the clues together and discover that he's been right in front of your face the whole time.

Written for @morallyinept's Flora & Fauna challenge. Please check out all the wonderful works created in Jett's honor!

Word count: 3,049

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, fluff, kissing, f!oral, unprotected p in v (it's 20 years into the fucking apocalypse), it's not stated, but I envision Joel having been snipped pre-outbreak, terms of endearment. POV flops around like petals in the wind. Reader has no established age or physical description aside from having hair that gets frizzy with humidity and often dirt-covered hands, because greenhouses, ya know? No use of y/n, none whatsoever.

Dividers courtesy of the wonderful @saradika-graphics. Gif chosen because of the wonderful floral wallpaper ;)

And this sweet little love story has come to an end. Thank you all for coming along for the ride! Your comments, likes, and reblogs are appreciated more than I could ever say.

Part I | Part II | Masterlist

Jasmine Orchid Eustoma Lavender Magnolia Iris Lily Lilac Eucalyptus Rose

JOEL MILLER

Joyful moments shared; the answer lies in the air.

Overwhelmed by your grace, the answer hides in this place.

Endless thoughts of you, the answer is in the view.

Lost in your scent, the answer is present.

Moments with you, the answer rings true.

In your eyes, the answer lies.

Lost in your beauty, the answer is a duty.

Longing for your touch, the answer means so much.

Evergreen thoughts of you, the answer is in the dew.

Remember my love for you, the answer is in you.

JOEL MILLER!

Maria’s eyes roved over your scribbled notes, a broad smile slowly spreading across her face at the underline beneath Joel’s name. “Took you long enough. I was beginning to question your intelligence, girl!”

Heat warmed your cheeks as you laughed, though you weren’t sure if it was due to embarrassment or the wine. “The answer was right in front of my face this whole time, I just couldn’t see it.”

Flopping back on the couch, you felt a bit overwhelmed. Ducking your head between your knees as you leant forward, you sucked in a few deep breaths before baring your soul to your best friend. “I wanted it to be him. I longed for it to be him. But I didn’t dare to hope that it would be him. Do you know what I mean?”

“I do.” Maria’s voice held nothing but understanding. “Hope could lead to despair if not met.”

“Exactly!” you exclaimed, poking your head up to meet her dark eyes. “I couldn’t handle the despair, so I couldn’t dare to hope.”

Maria settled onto the soft cushion next to you, one arm reaching out to rub your back soothingly. “You have nothing to fear now. Joel did all this, for you.” Her free hand gestured at the flowers and notes scattered across the table. “His feelings for you are so deep, so true, that he came up with this elaborate plan to show you instead of just telling you, like any normal person would.”

Pausing, Maria waited until you met her gaze again with a watery smile, wanting to make sure you understood the point she was making. Her eyes earnest and smile broad, she added, “He was afraid to hope, too. But he did and look what has come of it.”

Tears built up, threatening to spill over as you absorbed everything. Joel loved you, just as you loved him, his grand gesture proving it beyond a shadow of a doubt. He dared to hope when you didn’t and thank goodness he did. You two would still be dancing around each other for who the fuck knows how long otherwise.

You stood suddenly, feeling revived and eager to see Joel at once. “I need to see Joel. I need to tell him I feel the same way.”

“Well let’s go then! He’s probably at my house with Tommy.” Maria led the way out of your house after you both scrambled to put shoes on, marching with purpose down the quiet road under the cover of a clear, starry sky.

Despite the late hour, you needed to see Joel, to return his declaration of love now that he bared his heart and soul to you in such a clever, romantic way. Crisp air filling your lungs as you walked, you felt the effects of the wine wear off. You never felt so clear-headed, so full of promise, so full of love.

“Do you know what you’re going to say to him?” Maria asked as you neared her house. Bright lights shining through the curtains showcased the shadowy movements inside of the two men inside.

“Not a clue,” you admitted, suddenly nervous. “My brain hasn’t gotten that far yet. Fuck! What am I gonna say?”

“Well, you could always just walk in and kiss him. Just lay a big wet one right on his lips,” Maria suggested, the nearly full moon reflecting mischievously in her dark brown eyes. As your mouth dropped open, she added, “Yes! That’s exactly what you should do!”

“Well, in the absence of anything better…”

Laughter still bubbled from your bellies as you followed Maria up the front steps and into her home. Nearing sensory overload, every cell of your body vibrated with the burning need to lay eyes, hands, lips on Joel.

“Is that you, honey?” Tommy called from the living room. The two of you turned the corner into the room, and Maria made a beeline right to her husband.

Ignoring the married couple, your attention focused on the other occupant of the room. Joel sat on the couch, leant back in a relaxed pose, one arm slung across the back cushions. His thick thighs spread wide, just begging for you to step between them.

Wide and unblinking, his burnt umber eyes watched as you stepped further into the room. Head tilting quizzically, he licked his lips as you approached with an impossible slowness. Neither of you could look anywhere else, gazes locked, bodies pulling together like magnets.

Joel’s pouty lips parted in surprise when you didn’t seat yourself next to him, electing instead to climb onto his lap. He blinked owlishly at you as your face moved closer, centimeter by centimeter, until your lips met his in a delicate first kiss. However brief, that initial press of your lips against his ignited an inferno within you both. You mouths came together urgently the second time, as lips, teeth, and tongues clashed. Your fingers carded through his silky soft, thick curls, nails tenderly scratching itches on his scalp he didn’t even know he had. He preened under your touch.

So absorbed in each other after months and months of longing and pining, dancing around feelings you hid for each other, the rest of the room blurred to nonexistence. Your ears picked up soft murmuring from Maria and Tommy, but you ignored it. Your world revolved around Joel, and Joel only, at that moment. You shifted, trying in vain to bury beneath every layer of his skin, until you straddled his lap.

At long last, you pulled back as the need for oxygen became unbearable. You and Joel had been pressed so close together, noses smushed as you kissed, that neither of you could even breathe.

“I take it you figured it out.” Joel’s eyes searched your face, voice rumbling from deep in his chest, the sound like velvety chocolate to your ears.

You nodded, lost for words at first and his lips slowly tilted upwards at the corners until his smile reached its limit and the precious dimple in his cheek poked through. “The flowers and notes were so beautiful, Joel. I’m sorry I didn’t figure it out sooner, your riddles were just too good,” you grinned. Tears pricked at the back of your eyes at the look of complete adoration on his handsome face. Sincere happiness welled within you. “The notes, each one more beautiful than the last, I read them over and over. I feel all of that, too.”

Joel’s eyes took on a different shine at your confession, the fire from the hearth glinted in the sudden wetness glazing over them.

“Can I take you home?” he asked gruffly, the need evident in his glossy gaze.

“Fuck yes,” you breathed, giggling as he shifted you both to your feet and practically dragged you from his brother’s house. Neither of you had the wherewithal to say goodbye to Tommy and Maria. They watched the two of you leave with matching satisfied grins before locking up behind you.

“Yours or mine?” Joel questioned urgently as his large hand grasped yours.

“I don’t care,” you replied breathlessly, “whichever is closer.”

“Yours then.” His long legs led you down the deserted street, boots crunching on the hard ground, stopping only once you reached your front porch. He stared into your wide eyes, taking in the vision of your blown pupils and pursed lips. “Are you sure about this?”

“Joel,” you drew his name out in a long sigh, one hand caressing the scruff on his cheek. “I have never been surer of anything in my entire life. Take me inside and make love to me. Please.”

The pitch of your plea shot straight to his cock as he once again nearly dragged you behind him. Grateful that you forgot to lock the front door, there were no impediments to your journey into the house and straight up the stairs to your bedroom.

The urgency slowed once the both of you reached the center of your bedroom. Facing each other as you stood next to the large bed, Joel’s gaze tangibly seared your skin with the absolute heat of it.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured, one thick fingertip tracing the ridge of your brow and down the slope of your nose. His bedroom eyes captivating as he pulled at your plump bottom lip with his thumb, lips twitching when your tongue darted out to taste the salt on his skin. “I think I fell in love with you the day we met.”

“Me, too.” Mesmerized by Joel’s touch and thoughtful words, you leant forward, slanting your mouth against his. The kiss tender yet scalding hot as your hands began to slowly undress one another. Part of you could not believe this was happening, while another part of you kept repeating fucking finally.

Once you were both fully stripped of clothing, Joel eased you back onto the bed. The broadness of him hovered over you, legs entangled, and he caressed your skin with one large hand. There was no piece of you he left untouched. Your own hands were drawn to his luscious curls, fingers threading through the locks and massaging his scalp.

Joel soon replaced his hands with his mouth, placing soft, open-mouthed kisses down your body. He paid special attention to your breasts, pausing to lave and nip at the hardened peaks of your nipples. A surprised gasp flew from your mouth when he settled his face between your legs, darting his tongue out to taste your sweetness.

He feasted on you like a starving man, tongue laving at your clit before dipping inside to slurp at your juices. You were so wet for him. Only him. His mouth a form of heaven you didn’t know existed, you mewled and squirmed, muscles twitching as he drew you closer and closer to the cliff’s edge.

“Fuck, you are so good at this, Joel.” The half-moaned words fell from your lips when he slipped a thick finger inside you, quickly followed by another. His mouth continued to work at your clit, licking and sucking as you writhed beneath his ministrations.

A man possessed; Joel drew two orgasms from you before letting up. Easing back, he grinned at you, his facial hair glossy with your juices. “You taste fucking delicious. I could stay down here all night.”

A dewy sheen of sweat covered your entire body from being worked over so well. “Any other time, I wouldn’t stop you. But I want your cock inside me, right now.”

“Is that so?” Joel smirked at you, climbing up your body to settle his hips between your legs. Of their own accord, your hands soothed over the warm skin of his back and down to his ass, where you grabbed handfuls of the meaty flesh.

“Fuck, yes. Please, I need you.”

His eyes sparkled at your plea, but he didn’t move an inch. Your right hand reached between the two of you, grasping hold of his cock and gasping at the sheer size of him. Long and thick in your hand, your mouth watered at the thought of tasting him sometime. Joel grinned again, his expression quickly going slack as you tugged once, twice at his hardened length, running the head between your folds before lining him up with your entrance.

Dark eyes hooded with lust; Joel met your gaze. “You want this?” he questioned one last time, needing confirmation of your consent. The last thing he’d ever want to do is push you too far, too fast. He wanted this to last forever.

“Joel, I promise. I have never wanted someone more than I want you, and only you, right now.” You poured every emotion, every feeling for Joel through your eyes as you pulled him impossibly closer. Angling your hips up, he finally started feeding you his cock, inch by delectable inch. Your mouth dropped open at the stretch when he bottomed out.

“You’re taking me so well, pretty girl.” Joel began to move his hips in a slow, steady rhythm, his arms bracketing your head.

“Ahhh, I’ve never felt so full before. Please don’t stop.”

Soon enough, the only sounds in the room were the gentle slap of skin against skin, your breathy moans, and Joel’s rumbling grunts. Joel kissed you passionately as he fucked into you with deep thrusts, his eyes remaining locked on yours.

Your orgasm built as his cock grazed that perfect spot inside you with each thrust, and the words you’d been too afraid to admit to finally fell from your lips. “I love you, Joel. I love every single piece of the puzzle that you are.”

“And I love you, my angel,” Joel replied, voice gravelly. His hips snapped harder, throwing you both over the cliff. His deep moans were music to your ears as you pulsed around him, drawing every drop of cum from him until he settled heavily half atop you, breathless and sated.

“I can’t wait to do that again,” you blurted, chest heaving, drawing a chuckle from Joel.

“Imma need some time before I can do that again, angel. I’m not a young stud anymore.”

For the first time in many months, you fell asleep in your bed, the vastness of it decreased by Joel’s warm body cuddled up against you.

“You have everything you need, brother?” Tommy asked, helping Joel load up the saddlebags. “Maria tucked a bottle of wine and some glasses in here for you.”

Doublechecking the supplies, Joel nodded. “I think that’s all of it. Thank your wife for me. None of this would be happening right now without you, Maria, and Ellie.”

Tommy patted his older brother on the shoulder. “Being in love has really softened your edges. I actually like this version of you.”

Joel scowled back at Tommy’s teasing for a moment before his face transformed into a glowing, warm smile at the sight of you. Backpack slung over one shoulder, you wore fitted jeans, a tee shirt, and boots with Joel’s green flannel tied around your waist. To Joel, you’d never looked sexier.

“Hi boys,” you greeted, eyes lingering on the older Miller brother as he winked at you. Turning to Tommy, you batted your eye lashes. “Any chance you’ll tell me where he’s taking me?”

Tommy guffawed. “Not a chance in hell, doll. I don’t wanna get my ass kicked by this lug.”

Oh well, you had to try. Shrugging your shoulders, you climbed up into the saddle of a light brown colored horse. “Fine then. You better make sure my greenhouses are still in one piece when we get back.”

“Yeah, yeah. Off you go lovebirds.” Tommy patted your horse’s hind quarter once Joel mounted his horse and led the way through the town gate.

The horses settled into a canter, covering the landscape at a good clip. “It’s a couple hours ride, but I promise you’ll love it, angel.”

“I trust you, Joel,” you replied, lips pressed into a small smile. “I’m just happy to spend time with you.”

The pair of you chatted about anything and everything as you rode, sharing stories about your pre-outbreak past and the struggles faced since. You already knew about Sarah and how hard Joel took the loss of his beloved baby girl, but Joel felt comfortable sharing more stories of her with you. The conversations were interspersed with occasional comfortable silences as you took in the landscape and kept an eye out for trouble. The hours and miles passed in no time and Joel led you to a stop in front of a rusted-over fence. Dismounting the horse, you swiped a hand over a warped sign which indicated the property was a botanical garden in its former life.

“Joel,” you breathed, touched that he thought of taking you to such a place for your first official date. You had no idea it even existed.

“It’s rundown, obviously, but nature has completely taken over in a way that I think you’ll love. There were flowers everywhere when I first discovered the place. This is where I found some of the ones I gave you,” he explained. Pulling a section of fence open, he led you and the horses onto the property before closing it behind you.

“Tommy and I cleared the placed a while ago, but there may still be some cordyceps lingering around. Keep an eye out.” Joel handed you a pistol, checking first to make sure it was locked and loaded, and swung the rifle from his shoulder.

The grounds were quiet except for birdsong and the rustle of leaves in the breeze. Plentiful flora grew in every direction you turned, overtaking dilapidated benches and buildings alike. The grounds were a vibrant sea of colorful flowers and plants, and a mix of floral fragrances nearly overwhelmed your senses. Joel led the horses into a small area cordoned off on three sides, leaving them to graze while the two of you explored.

Joel reached for your hand, entwining your fingers as you walked the grounds. Even overgrown and unkempt as it was, the garden left you in awe. You strolled, recounting information about every flower you recognized. Joel listened, enraptured, as you spoke about their meanings, falling in love with you even more with every brilliant word that came out of your mouth.

He surprised you with a late lunch in a field of wildflowers on the way back to Jackson, gathering a small bouquet in his hands while you ate. Joel tucked a bright yellow flower with long, thin petals into your hair before handing over the bouquet.

“When you’re ready, I’m going to ask you to marry me, my beautiful wildflower.”

fin

#jettsflora&faunachallenge #writing challenge #joel miller #joel miller x reader #the last of us #joel x female reader #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fandom #pedrostories #joel miller smut

60 notes · View notes

sigmasemen · 3 days

Text

TEXTING.

tags: fluff, awkwardness in relationships, established relationships,

taglist: n/a currently.

characters: sae itoshi, reader.

word count: 970

extra notes: repost from my thread fic on here, again not gonna be all fancy sadly. will be writing some on here from now on.

sae itoshi was what people called an enigma. even after being with him for a little under half a year, you didn’t get certain mannerisms. why did he push his bangs back like that? what happened between him and his brother? why did his eyes show so much more expression than the rest of his face?

all of that seemed too distant to be solved. you just hoped he’d tell you one day. but in the meantime? you had to find small ways to help him with things he struggled with. namely, physical and verbal affection.

he was a bit better with physical affection. maybe it was because every small touch ignited feelings you didn’t know people could have. but you still had to think of a way to make him feel more comfortable.

that was why you had suggested this seemingly silly concept of texting while in bed. it was a way to communicate then build up to more. he didn’t realize you were serious until you directly told him you were.

why he cocked a brow before agreeing, you didn’t know. it still landed you on distant sides of his luxurious bed. he hadn’t typed a word, but he had been on your chat the entire time.

making the first move, you typed first.

— etc. is typing…

‘you remind me of a red panda.’

there wasn’t any noise in response, just shifting.

— saeitoshi. is typing…

‘What?’

you giggled.

— etc. is typing…

‘you remind me of a red panda. one of those big ones that look like they’re always mad.’

— saeitoshi. is typing…

‘Thank you?’

‘That doesn’t make any sense though.’

— etc. is typing…

‘does it need to?’

— saeitoshi. is typing…

‘I guess not.’

there was a second of a pause while he typed another message out.

‘You remind me of a starfish.’

— etc. is typing…

‘that seems mean??’

‘are you calling me lazy??’

— saeitoshi. is typing…

‘You can be’

‘Not why I said it though’

‘Seagulls are known for carrying around starfish. I carry you around a lot from place to place.’

you were about to type another message before he had to toss one little thing in.

‘Then you laze around in that place.’

— etc. is typing…

‘that was gonna be sweet :C’

‘can’t even be too nice for a second?’

— saeitoshi. is typing…

‘I was.’

— etc. is typing…

‘k then, would you still love me if I was a starfish??’

— saeitoshi. is typing…

‘??’

you could hear a scoff come from over your shoulder.

‘Did you suddenly turn into one or were you born a starfish??’

‘I wouldn’t be attracted to something born a starfish. I would take care of you if you were turned into one’

— etc. is typing…

‘so we aren’t star crossed soulmates?’

— saeitoshi. is typing…

‘I don’t get your whole deal with soulmates.’

— etc. is typing…

‘seriously??????’

‘soulmates are such a fun concept, you don’t want to be destined to be with someone for life??????’

— saeitoshi. is typing…

a pause.

— saeitoshi. is typing…

‘Maybe, it doesn’t seem realistic though’

— etc. is typing.

‘you don’t understand true love…’

‘i’ll pretend you undoubtedly believe in soulmates.’

shockingly, you heard a shift in the bed. as you turned your head around, sae had rolled over to face you. there wasn’t even a second of hesitation as you did the same thing.

then you had to think of another conversation prompt.

— etc. is typing…

‘your fave song doesn’t fit you like i thought it would’

you glanced up to see sae’s eyebrow raised.

— saeitoshi. is typing…

‘It doesn’t need to.’

‘It helps me focus while I’m working out, isn’t that enough to make it a favorite song?’

you let out a gentle hum. you could start to inch towards more pretty easily. all you needed to do was dip your toes into the water.

— etc. is typing.

‘then play it?’

‘C:’

there was pure silence. you didn’t look at your phone, instead at the soft expression of sae. he only shifted a bit before the virtual clicking came from his phone. his nail pressed against the screen before the music started.

it was enjoyable at first. you felt yourself ease in his presence. his eyes drifted to your’s.

“it still isn’t that good.”

sae hummed, “i think it’s good. you’re ust being picky.”

“like you aren’t the pickiest of them all?”

neither of you were actually intending this. it wasn’t a conscious movement, instead a natural one you weren’t even thinking about. yet as your body inched closer and closer, you started to forget about what you were saying. they were words without meaning. actions had ripped that right away from them.

your leg flopped on top of sae’s, and his arm rested on your waist. at some point, your head had started to press against sae’s chest. even though you both had to adjust to look at the other, it seemed like neither of you had noticed the position.

and once you noticed, you had absolutely no intention of showing it. “hey sae?”

“yeah?”

“your heart is beating really fast, did you know that?”

“oh,” a pause, “i’m sure your heart is beating just as fast.”

it was a rare notion of romantic confidence from him that you couldn’t help but smile at.

“it is.”

“… let me listen to your heartbeat before you go to sleep. i can even use your wrist to listen.”

“huh?”

as sae set his phone down, he grabbed your wrist and pulled it to his ear. the soft thumping of your heart sped up. only a very gentle scoff escaped him as a reaction to it. you hoped that meant he hadn’t noticed.

“sleep… sleep well sae.”

with a gentle kiss to the wrist, he spoke, “you too.” he really could’ve be a killer romantic if he wasn’t so awkward…

#sae itoshi x reader #bllk sae #bllk x you #bllk #blue lock #sae Itoshi #x reader #reader insert #x you

53 notes · View notes

puppysp1tt · 2 days

Text

Just the Tip

Armin Arlert x Reader

Warnings: FTM Trans!Reader, Adult Armin, Top Armin, Bottom Reader, Messy Makeout, Leg Humping, Hickies, Breeding Kink, Mentions of Cervix Bullying, Copious Amounts of Precum, Like Mans is Leaky, Needy Armin, Standard Just The Tip Desperation, So So Much Praise, Petnames(Baby), Hand Holding During Sex, Armin Keeps Apologizing While Absolutely Rearranging Intestines, Armin is Literally a Freak in the Sheets Who Knew

Note: Terminology For Genitalia Used: Folds, Cunt, Clit, Entrance, Cervix is Mentioned Armin is 21+

Word Count: 2.8K

When you and Armin finally stopped skirting around your feelings for each other, you both decided it would be best to take things as slowly as possible. Armin was such a soft and innocent person when it came to any form of intimacy, and you didn’t mind waiting a bit, never wanting to make the first move for fear of him feeling rushed. Plus, not rushing into anything meant being able to take it all in and feel like a slightly normal couple even as the threat of titans loomed above your heads every day.

The first time he hugged you, you don’t even think he'd realized he’d done it. It was after a successful expedition, and two weeks after the both of you made it official. Adrenaline and excitement were so strong in the air that his arms wrapped around you without a second thought. Only after he pulled back did the realization hit him. You watched his eyes widen, his entire face burning red, and all you could do was smile. You gave him a pat on the back, your touch lingering slightly as if to say, ‘It’s okay, I want you to touch me’, and continued with the excited chattering of the rest of your squad.

Despite that, though, the milestone for holding hands came slowly, one random afternoon in the mess hall a month later. You think back on it often—the way Armin’s face flushed a deep red as his hand slowly inched toward yours on the table, fingers interlacing together despite the prying eyes and giggles of the rest of the squad. It was the first time he touched you with intent, and his fingers felt so perfect between yours. You wanted to know if they felt as perfect inside of you.

Your first kiss with him came a few weeks later, with the admission that it was his first kiss entirely. You remember how his voice shook when he pulled you toward a more secluded part of the library and asked if he could. The kiss itself was chaste, full of vulnerability, but even then, you were enamored by how soft his lips were and how his breath smelt like strawberries as it puffed briefly against your face. You wanted to know if his spit tasted like strawberries too.

The inappropriate thoughts should’ve made you feel bad; if it weren’t for the fact that any time there was physical contact between the both of you, Armin would have to adjust himself in his pants. He always tried to do it discretely, pretending to scratch his leg or turning around and pretending to be doing something so you wouldn’t see him, but you knew what he was doing. You were happy your presence and touch were affecting him just as much as his was affecting you, and you wondered just how long it would take before that bubble of tension popped.

It wasn’t out of the ordinary for both you and Armin to read together. You both had a huge interest in books and would spend hours silently enjoying each other's company while being taken outside the walls in the safety of words on a page. Usually, this was done in the library or the common area of the headquarters. But, Armin had asked if the both of you could read within the comfort of your quarters on that day.

You both sat on the floor, side by side, so close that if you moved even an inch, your thighs would meet, with your backs pressed against the edge of your bed. In normal circumstances, privacy while reading would be nice. Even if the library was supposed to be a quiet place, it could become rowdy at times, and the common room always had a buzz of people in and out of it. But these weren’t normal circumstances. You knew Armin was the type to silently scheme and plan miles ahead. It was the whole reason that Erwin had unofficially taken him under his wing. Him asking you to be somewhere private with him when all other times the public areas of the base had been fine, meant he probably had something other than reading in mind for the both of you to do together. There was no other reason for the sudden change, right?

That was the only thought going through your head as you tried desperately to focus on the book in your hands. You could feel the heat radiating off of Armin’s body beside you, allowing yourself to glance at him. You didn’t expect him to already be looking at you. His face was flushed, and his lips were glossy as if he had just freshly wettened them with his tongue.

“I think… I mean— if you would like to. I would, uh, like to try kissing… more.” His voice was so sweet and soft, eyes shifting down toward your lips before slowly raking back up.

“I’d like that, yeah.” You tried to keep your voice calm, though every piece of you was vibrating with excitement. You carefully set your book beside you, standing and holding a hand out to him. He looked at you confused, but took it anyway and stood himself. “Wanna sit on the bed.” You clarified, intertwining your fingers with his as you hopped up on the plush mattress. He took a seat beside you, his lip pulled between his teeth. It was obvious he was nervous. “We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to,” you reassured. “Just kissing, yeah?”

“Yeah.” He gave a nod and leaned forward. Your lips brushed for a second, electricity flowing through the both of you at the brief contact, just as it always did when you shared chaste kisses. However, this was different, Armin giving your hand a soft squeeze as your lips finally slotted together. Your free hand moved to clasp the back of Armin’s head, a silent reassurance, heat beginning to bloom in your stomach from the sheer sweetness that the kiss held. Armin’s tongue swiped the bottom of your lip, and you accepted him greedily. You were pleased to know that his spit did taste like strawberries; it mingled with yours as your tongues lazily explored each other. The kiss only broke when the both of you needed air, taking a small moment before resuming with more heat.

You felt a hand softly grip at your hip, as if you might crumble into pieces if the grip were any harder than the brush of a feather. Your fingers tangled into golden locks, your fingertips grazing his scalp, which earned you a soft groan that you gladly drank up. The tongue in your mouth doubled its efforts, exploring further, becoming more insistent and less hesitant. If you didn’t know any better, you would have thought Armin had done this before, with the confidence you could feel growing in him. Your body was reacting to the contact as it always had, thighs pressing together to help ease the throbbing sensation you began to feel between them. The rumbling of a soft moan left your throat, the hand on your hip squeezing just the smallest amount at the sound. You could feel the bed bouncing softly, could feel Armin’s legs flexing against yours. He pulled back from the kiss, his lips red and swollen, eyes half-mast. You looked down and realized where the movement was coming from, his hips were bucking slightly into the air, no doubt attempting to grind himself against the fabric of his own pants.

“I’m… Can I… Ne-need to rub against something. I’m sorry, it’s just so much and I—”

Without replying, you flung the leg closest to him up, letting it rest against Armin’s crotch and dangle between his legs. He let out a small gasp, his free hand immediately moving to rest on your thigh as if he were holding you in place. His hips never stopped their tiny movements, and you could feel just how hard he was under your lower thigh. You tugged him into another kiss, missing the friction your thighs being pressed together gave you but loving the feeling of him rutting up against you more. You took in every little sound he made, breathing in the air from his lungs like it was yours for the taking.

There was spit dripping down your chin from just how messy the kiss had gotten, Armin becoming primal in the way he gripped the meat of your thigh. You pressed your leg down slightly, the expected and sudden pressure causing his rhythm to falter for a moment before picking back up, a breathy sound escaping his lips. His teeth clashed with your bottom lip, tugging against it hard and letting go with a soft pop. Instead of pressing his lips against yours again, he only kissed the corner of your mouth, and then down further and further, smearing saliva until he reached your neck. His tongue lapped behind your ear, hand beginning to explore your inner thigh.

“Hhaa…” His teeth scraped against your skin, mouth latching onto that section for a moment before moving to another. Your hand squeezed his, still interlaced and resting against the bed behind the both of you. His hips stilled.

“Fu-fuck… Can I just— I need to take it out. It hurts so much, my pants are too tight. Please…” His breath against your wet neck gave you goosebumps, voice muffled as he continued to mark you with hickies you weren’t even sure he knew he was making. You had never heard Armin swear before; the sound of it was making you dizzy.

“Ye-yeah. Tha— Nngg.. That’s fine.” Your voice was breathless, unable to hold back moans as he continued to ravish your throat. He pushed your leg to the side a bit, and you watched as he fumbled with the zip of his pants. After managing to undo them, he reached inside, tugging his briefs down as his cock sprang free, hooking them under his balls. You took the sight in, his cock visibly throbbing, the head of it a bright red, almost purple from the amount of blood being pumped through. Pearlescent beads of precum were puddling up and falling down his thick shaft, and you were sure the inside of his briefs were soaked in it. Wirey, trimmed blonde hair peaked from the base, leading up in a trail and disappearing underneath his shirt.

“Lo-look at what you’re doing t’me. You always—” He tugged your thigh back against his cock, and you could feel him shiver at the roughness of your jeans as he bucked into it. “Hhaaa— Always get me s-so worked up. Can’t— M-mm… Can’t help it…” He licked back up your neck, planting another kiss against your lips. Your tongue automatically moved with his, his hand settling on your inner thigh again. You could feel his touch grow bolder, moving closer and closer to where you needed him most. His fingers grazed against your crotch, causing your hips to buck into the feeling. You were so hard and wet, clit jumping at the sensation. He could surely feel the bud against your pants and began to target it, pressing his index finger in circles around it.

“A-Armin— Mnng..” You broke the kiss, head leaning back as your eyes closed. You felt his hips speed slightly at the sound of his name, precum soaking into the leg of your jeans.

“O-off. Want them off. ‘M sorry… Please. Jus’ wanna see you.” Armin mumbled, slurred with lust. He moved his hand up, tugging at the bottom of your shirt. “Th-this too. Please, baby…”

You let go of his hand to tug your shirt off, letting Armin work on unbuttoning your pants. Your leg moved from Armin’s lap, and your hips lifted off of the bed to allow him to tug them down completely, along with your briefs. Without pause, Armin did the same, completely stripping himself of clothing. You felt a hand against your chest, pushing you to lay back against the bed. He nestled in between your thighs as if he was always meant to be there, taking in the sight of you. You watched his cock bounce, precum dripping onto the mattress.

“You’re so beautiful. I— Wanna just… Can I…” He couldn’t even finish his thought, bracing one hand beside your head, lacing his fingers with yours with the other hand, and holding that one above your head. His cock fit perfectly in between your folds, his hips slowly grinding against you. With each movement, the tip of his cock hit your swollen clit, causing your back to arch. “M’sorry— Fuck— You’re so wet, I— Hah… S-so fucking warm… m’sorry…”

“Armi—” A moan caught in your throat, Armin’s cock catching against your entrance. You could feel yourself clenching around nothing, arm clutching against his back like a lifeline. Your nails dug in slightly, leaving crescent-shaped imprints.

“Just— Just gonna p-put the tip in, okay? M’so sorry… Feels too good… Just the tip, ‘promise.” You gave a nod. It was really all you were capable of doing—the friction from him grinding against you, leaving your mouth too occupied with moans to say anything. You felt the bluntness of the head of his cock prodding against you, pleasure flowing through your veins as it pushed in. “Mmm.. Sh-shit. You’re even— Hahhh… Wa-warmer inside…”

The whine that you let out would’ve been embarrassing if it didn’t feel so good to have Armin inside of you. Your legs wrapped around his waist, and his hips began to move in tiny thrusts.

“Fuck… N-nng… It’s like you’re sucking me in. So tight against me. M’sorry— I— M’so sorry— Feels so… Ahh…” His hips began to pick up speed, his head leaning down to kiss and suck against your already bruised neck. Each thrust began to feel deeper, more and more pushing inside of you. His pubic bone was rubbing against your swollen clit on each thrust. “M’sorry, m’sorry, m’sorry- Shit— Baby, you— Mmm… Fu-fuck I can’t…” His cock bottomed out in you, pelvis pressed against yours for only a moment before he began to slam into you.

“‘Min— Too much! Yo-you’re so big! Fu-fuck ‘Min— So full!” You managed to get out in between moans. You felt lightheaded, Armin’s cock pressing against you in all the right places. The head of his cock felt like it was bullying your cervix each time he pushed inside fully; the rhythm of his hips unruly and unforgiving. You could already feel your orgasm growing close, your stomach growing tighter and tighter.

“Ca-can’t stop— M’so sorry— Feels so good. Ba-baby, your cunt feels so good. N-nnmm… M’sorry, you take me so well. Su-such a good boy, taking me so deep—” You could barely even register his hand clutching yours, his praise ringing in your ears. Your legs tightened around his waist, the heels of your feet digging into his tailbone. “Wanna… Fuck ahh— Gonna cum… Baby, please— Mmm… Can’t stop— M’gonna cum inside… Wanna fill you up. You’re milking my cock, baby— Hahh… Squeezing me so— fuck— m’sorry— m’gonna breed you, baby— Fuck, m’sorry, m’sorry—”

The way Armin was talking to you, you just couldn’t take it anymore. White flashed behind your eyes, your cunt pulsing around his cock as you came. Your nails scratched down his back, leaving red marks behind.

Armin let out a guttural moan, his hips stuttering at the rhythmic clenching. You could feel his warm cum spurting inside of you, filling you up. His hips continued to rock, making sure every last drop was inside before his arm gave out and he collapsed on top of you. You both lay like that, panting as the high slowly came down, his spent cock beginning to soften inside of you. When he finally did move, his face had that familiar flush you loved.

“O-oh my god. I’m so sorry, I— I don’t know what came over me.” He scrambled to get off of you, causing you to whine softly at the empty feeling of your cunt. You could already feel cum dribbling out of you, sliding down your ass and onto the covers. “That was— I didn’t mean to— I’m sorry.” He was rushing to pick up his clothes from the floor, unable to look at you.

“Armin. Armin, baby, look at me,” you said as you sat up. Every part of you was throbbing. He was tugging up his pants when his eyes snapped up to you. They hovered on your neck before moving to your face, his cheeks growing impossibly redder. You could tell he was trying desperately hard not to look at your body. “I liked it. Loved it even. Did it make you feel good?” His brows furrowed in thought, tucking himself into his jeans blindly.

“Ye-yeah, I did feel good. I, um… I am sorry, though…”

You smiled, willing your body to move to the edge of the bed even though it felt like jello. You took his hand in yours, squeezing it.

“Can we maybe do that again sometime?”

#꒰💋꒱ — V Writes NSFW!! ⛤#aot x reader #attack on titan smut #attack on titan #aot smut #aot x y/n #aot x you #armin aot #armin arlert #armin x reader #armin smut #just the tip #x reader #x you #armin arlet x reader #armin attack on titan #armin alert aot

33 notes · View notes