#just the one shot
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maiumeni · 12 days ago
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season 3 finale leaks
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Welcome back Hannigram
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rafeysbunny · 2 months ago
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‧₊˚ ⋅ i'll show you, rafe cameron
stepbro!rafe x fem!reader
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synopsis. in which your stepbrother kindly offers to show you porn for the first time.
warnings. stepbro!rafe, innocent!reader (but she's not an airhead), virgin!reader, smut, fingering, rafe putting in just the tip, oral sex (fem receiving), rafe licks his own creampie.
word count. 4k.
author's note. idea by @matts1andonly. english isn't my first language so there might be spelling mistakes, don't hold it against me. enjoy!
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it's past midnight when you finally slide out of your bedroom without making a sound. you have been waiting patiently for your mom and ward to go to bed so you can do this without risking getting caught. wheezie is already asleep too, sarah is out with john b somewhere, and rafe left the house earlier, not telling anyone where to, so you know he's going to arrive late, as always.
it's the perfect moment.
rafe's room is down the hallway, so you make your way there quietly not to wake anyone, your barefoot feet making soft footstep sounds when you walk. once there, you open the door as carefully as you possibly can, knowing it creaks every time it gets open. this time, thanks to god, it does not.
you manage to sneak into the dormitory unnoticed, then shut the door behind you. the place is dark, only a faint glimmer of moonlight coming in through his curtains, but you want to lay low, so you don't turn on the lights. by all means, the dim lighting is enough for you to spot what you're looking for.
rafe's mac, laying there on his desk.
what's the point behind all of this? you might be wondering. well, let me answer you real quick. turns out, this handsome, muscled college guy has invited you on a date. problem is, you have never been on a date. you haven't even hold hands with a guy romantically before, much less kissed or fucked one. you simply refuse to come off as a prude, which honestly you are, but that dream of a man doesn't need to know that.
and that's why you have decided that it is a good idea to break into your stepbrother's bedroom and borrow his laptop, since yours broke last week, to watch porn in it for the first time.
well, now that you hear it out loud, it probably sounded better in your head. anyways...
you stroll towards the desk with languid steps and sit down on rafe's chair, small hands reaching hesitantly to open the laptop. you turn it on and the screen light illuminates your pretty face right away. you swear your fingers are shaking a little bit as you open up the browser and type 'porn videos' on the search bar.
somehow, you feel like you are doing something wrong, and you can't seem to shake the guilt away. either way, you don't back out. you click the enter button and, after just a few seconds, a million search results pop up. honestly, you don't know where to start, so you click on the first one, which redirects you to a website called pornhub.
the home page is full of videos, the first thing to catch your attention being the obscene thumbnails of each one of them. your cheeks flush a deep shade of red. you read some of the titles as you bite your lip nervously, realising most of them contain the word 'stepsister' in them, and you wonder if that is the only content posted on this page.
how innocent of you not to know that the website is making recommendations based on your stepbro's most searched tag.
before things escalate further, you spot rafe's airpods max sitting there on the desk and decide to grab them, connecting them to the laptop and putting them on —this way you can make sure no one overhears anything. after that, you spend a few more minutes scrolling through the page, during which you discover that there's a ton of categories to choose from.
how are you supposed to know which one to pick?
you are so invested in your little research, headphones canceling the noise, that you don't hear neither rafe opening the front door nor him walking up the stairs and, surely, don't notice him standing behind you until he speaks. and it's too late by then.
"the fuck are you doing, sweetheart?" he blurts, complete and utterly shocked to see his naive stepsister fuckin' watching pornhub.
well shit, maybe you aren't as innocent as he thought you were.
you jolt instantly, jumping out of your seat as you feel all the colour draining from your cheeks. no way rafe just caught you in the act. this can't be real. despite how bad you want to run away, you are left with no other choice but to turn around and face him, wishing the earth would swallow you up.
"i– this is not what it looks like, i swear i can explain," you stutter nervously, taking of the airpods with trembling hands. from here on, the anxious rambling begins, "i wasn't doing anything... this guy– well, i... i uhm– i got a date, 'kay? with this guy from class and– listen, i know this is silly, but..."
"jesus christ, baby, slow down, 'kay?" he stops you, his heart nearly melting from how cute you look, so shy and flustered. he almost feels bad for interrupting whatever the hell you were doing here.
the colour has returned to your cheeks, and you are all flushed now, from head to toe. your face feels like it's on fire; you have never been this embarrassed before.
"could you please start over?" he asks, hoping to hear a coherent explanation to why you are in his room, in the middle of the night, and watching porn on his laptop.
you take a deep breath, fidgeting with the hem of your top. you are so deeply ashamed that you don't seem to remember that you are wearing nothing but a flimsy white singlet and a tiny pair of matching panties. rafe's very aware of that fact, though, hungry eyes trailing all over your beautiful body.
"i've got a date with a guy from class," you start explaining, white teeth nibling occasionally on your plump bottom lip, "but i've never dated anyone, ya' know? i've no experience, and i don't want him to think i'm pathetic if we..."
"fuck?" he finishes your sentence, a roguish grin spreading across his handsome face.
if possible, your blush deepens even more at the vulgarity while you mutter a quiet 'yeah' in response.
honestly, he is a bit jealous of that guy. not only you are willing to let him fuck you, but you are also trying to learn how to do it properly so he has a good time doing it. yeez, what a shame for him he is going to kill him as soon as he finds out who he is; there's no chance rafe's letting you near any other man but him.
"i thought, uhm, maybe watching that would help..." you add coyly, his silence making you more nervous.
it is cute how you try to avoid saying words like 'fuck' or 'porn', like it is a crime to pronounce them or something.
"you know what? let's watch it together," he proposes.
there's a mischievous glint in his eyes that doesn't go unnoticed. you swear your cheeks might just explode at any second, and you can't help the pathetic stutter that comes out when you talk. "uhm, i don't think that'd be appropriate," you refuse, shaking your head.
"why not? you want help, and i can help you here, sweetheart," he answers, his voice surprisingly soft and gentle —unlike rafe, "that's what big brothers are for, aren't they?"
he takes a few steps in his direction until he is standing right beside you. then, he grabs the laptop in his large hands as he flashes you a wicked smirk, his curtain bangs falling messily on his forehead. you gulp, having him so close makes you feel a certain way; you cannot deny that.
"you, uhm, being my stepbrother is exactly why not," you stammer as you tilt your head back to look at him, his height towering over you.
"bullshit," he retorts, huffing. "you trust me?"
your first mistake is, probably, trusting rafe cameron. "yeah, i do, but..."
"that's why 'm perfect for the job, baby," he interrupts you. his words are clearly intended to manipulate you, but you are way too innocent to notice it, "i'm probably the guy you feel most comfortable with, aren't i? i can give ya' all the advice you need."
to be fair, he isn't wrong about that. you don't have any male friends, and you are honestly too embarrassed to ask your girlfriends for help on this department, not wanting them to think less of you. plus, rafe is a guy; he knows better what guys like, right?
"wouldn't it be kinda... weird ?" you ask, clearly hesistant.
"weird?" he repeats. "no, 'course not."
only a few more sweet, reassuring words is all it takes for him to gently coax you into watching his favourite pornos with him. his cock starts to harden in his pants just at the thought of having you like that. when you finally accept, he swears he's on cloud nine.
god, he's been wanting you for months now; he can't believe this is happening.
"c'mere, baby," he eagerly instructs you, getting on his bed.
he sits with his back resting on the headboard and pats the spot between his legs to invite you to sit there. he places the laptop next to him, the pornhub website still open on it. you move slowly towards him, cheeks slightly flushed from the embarrassment as you settle on the mattress in between his parted thighs, your back pressed to his hard chest.
he wraps one strong arm securely around your waist, his hand coming to rest gently on your tummy. with his other hand, he reaches for the laptop sitting beside him, carefully bringing it closer so the two of you can see the screen properly.
your heart is beating so fast in your chest that he can probably hear it, too. the way he is touching you is not making it easier for you to stay calm, either, his fingers tenderly tracing patterns on your belly over the thin fabric of your shirt while he scrolls through the page.
he seems to sense your discomfort and chuckles low in his throat, his warm breath tickling your ear. "relax, sis," he whispers teasingly, his voice laced with amusement. "i'm not gonna make you watch anything that'll traumatize you."
"it's just– this is a bad idea," you babble, fidgeting nervously when he finally clicks on a video and a pretty young woman appears on screen.
the actress is beautiful; she has a gorgeous body and face. her lips are full and pink, and she has these big, expressive eyes that appear to gleam. and you don't realize it, but she looks exactly like you.
the scene starts playing; in it, the girl is watching some movie with a guy that, apparently, is her roommate —at least that's what the title says.
"shhh..." he hushes you softly, his voice barely audible over the sounds emanating from his laptop's speakers. "just watch. don't overthink it."
"okay," you answer between gritted teeth.
your pretty eyes are fixed on the laptop while you try not to cringe at how bad the script and acting are, which is nearly impossible, to be honest. despite that, you keep watching in silence as the video plays, growing more flustered as the clock ticks.
you didn't know mouths could be used for that... interesting.
as opposed to you, rafe's pretty chill behind you, like he's unbothered by this whole situation —he's actually hard as fuck inside his pants, the thing is you haven't noticed. you wonder how he can act so unfazed, since you keep pushing your thighs together to try and soothe the throbbing sensation building in between them while you take in the lewd actions occurring on screen.
you weren't expecting your body to have this reaction, and now you don't know what to do to make it stop.
rafe soon becomes aware of the way you keep letting out soft sighs and squirming in his arms, plush ass rubbing against his cock every time you do it. it's a miracle he is still holding back, though he doesn't know how much time he will be able to.
he's not even paying attention to the video anymore, his entire focus put on you. he finally ventures to lean in, his hot breath grazing the shell of your ear as he whispers, "you know, i could do that to you..." his hand slowly slides to your plush thigh and he gives it a gentle squeeze.
his movements are measured and controlled not to scare you, but your breath hitches in your chest at his actions either way, body tensing up in his grasp. your brain is telling you to push him away, but the insistent throb in your sex doesn't like that idea, not one bit.
"you– you could?" you utter quietly, not taking your eyes away from the laptop.
rafe notices the uncertainty in your voice, but the way you haven't pushed him away yet emboldens him to continue, his large hand gradually sliding north.
"yeah, baby," he murmurs huskily against your ear, fingertips brushing along your inner thigh. "i could put my fingers inside you, just like he's doing to her..."
his words make you blush heavily as a little gasp is released from your pouty lips. "would it feel good?" you ask naively.
your eyes are transfixed in the sight of the guy on the screen pushing his fingers inside the girl's pussy. god, she seems like she's enjoying it so much... and you desperately want to feel like that too. you can't even bring yourself to care that it's your stepbrother offering to show you.
rafe's fingers creep higher and higher until they're barely brushing against your cotton panties. "yeah," he growls huskily against your ear, "it'd feel real good, sweetheart. i promise..."
you shudder, a sweet little mewl escaping your throat involuntarily. you can't help but blush at your own reaction, slightly embarrassed by it. you tear your eyes away from the screen, head falling back against his chest as you look up at him.
"it's throbbing, rafe..." you whine, self-control slipping from your hands. "can you make it better?"
rafe's fingers finally make contact with your wet underwear, pressing against your clit through the fabric. he rubs gentle circles around your sensitive nub, his other hand curling around your supple thigh to spread your legs wider.
"oh, baby, you're soaked through your panties..." he pants out.
your body literally melts into his touch like butter, perfectly shaped brows knitting together in a frown of pleasure. the girl in the video moans, and you do too, both sounds echoing in the silence of his room.
taking your moan as an invitation, rafe carefully hooks his fingers in the gusset of your panties to push them aside, exposing your sopping cunt to the cool air of his bedroom. then, he traces your wet slit slowly, leisurely, as if savoring the velvety feel of your skin.
"such a pretty little pussy..." he praises, eyes hungrily taking in the pink expanse of flesh.
you squirm and let out a soft whimper, biting your lip right after to avoid keep making noises; the last thing you want is to wake up your parents or wheezie. rafe notices your struggle and swiftly reaches up to cover your mouth with his free hand, muffling your sweet moans.
he gathers some of the wetness dripping out of your cunt before trailing his fingers all the way up to your clit, rubbing it gently. your eyes roll back, hips bucking up against his hand instinctively. the way your swollen bud throbs beneath his fingertips is going to make you mad. he begins to touch your clit in fast, tight circles, his other hand still holding your mouth shut to keep you quiet.
he leans in to whisper against your ear, his hot breath sending shivers down your spine, "if you make a sound, i'll stop, got it?"
you nod obediently in response, making your best effort to comply; you don't want him to stop doing this, never. as a reward, rafe slides a thick finger down your slit and presses it against your clenched entry, steadily applying pressure until your tight muscles finally give in and allow his digit ingress.
"so fuckin' tight," he groans under his breath at the feeling of your narrow pussy engulfing his finger.
withdrawing his finger almost all the way out, he teases your entrance with the tip, making you tremble with anticipation before pushing it back in to the knuckle, his palm cupping your mound as he starts to thrust in a smooth, lazy rhythm. you swallow a whiny cry while your eyelids flutter shut, pretty face scrunched in a blissful expression.
rafe works his finger in and out of your slick pussy slowly, marveling at how your velvety walls flutter around the digit. he curls it inward, searching for that special spot that's guaranteed to drive you wild.
after a few experimental pokes, rafe's fingertip finally brushes over your g-spot, eliciting a muffled moan from under his palm. he smiles wickedly against your skin, and you shudder in his grasp, pleasure waves running through your body.
"that's it, sweetheart... feel good?" he croons softly, fingering you nice and deep.
you can't bring yourself to reply, the sensation of his large digit fucking your pussy, added to the constant rubbing of his palm against your puffy clit has your mind feeling all fuzzy. your body language is the only answer he needs, though.
rafe leans in to tenderly nip at your neck, his hot mouth latching onto your slender throat as he keeps pumping his finger steadily in and out of your dripping cunt. he knows you're close when he feels your inner muscles starting to clench erratically around his digit.
"rafe," you moan onto his palm as you feel this new, strange sensation building in your tummy, pussy tingling so nicely.
heaven help him. hearing you, his stepsister, moan his name like that makes rafe's hard dick throb almost painfully against his zipper.
and then it happens. the coil in your belly suddenly snaps and you have to bite onto your lip harshly to keep yourself from screaming as you cum for the very first time, on your stepbrother's hand. rafe continues to pump his finger in and out of your spasming cunt as you ride out your climax, wanting to prolong your pleasure.
when you finally come down from your high, you're all shaky and flustered in his arms, panting heavily to try and catch your breath. he has a satisfied smirk on his lips while he slowly withdraws his slick digit from your quivering hole to bring it up to his mouth and lick it clean, savoring your taste.
"did so well for me, baby," he coos as he uncovers your mouth, gently turning your head to the side to press a kiss to your swollen, red lips.
you return it sloppily, eyes fluttering shut in the process, and you sigh contently against his mouth. he can't help but rock his hips against your ass, rubbing his hard on against you.
"did i make you feel good?" he asks between little kisses, his breathing growing uneven. you nod in response. "yeah? then it's just fair you make me feel good too, sweetheart... wanna do that f'me?"
"yes," you whisper against his lips without even thinking, feeling him smirk into the kiss.
"such a good girl," he praises.
at some point, the porn video playing on his laptop ended, so he simply closes it up and tosses it away, the device landing somewhere on his king size bed. then, he turns you both around, until you are laying on the mattress and he is on top of you.
he is quick to undo his pants and yank them down, just enough to free his raging hard on, which bounces against his abs. let me tell you this, he's big, the tip pink and fat, already leaking precum.
suddenly, realization hits you. this is your stepbrother for god's sake, are you really gonna let him fuck you?
he notices how your body tenses up, one hand reaching to stroke your plush thigh reassuringly while the other wraps around his shaft, giving it a slow pump.
"hey, baby, relax..." he whispers gently, "i'll put just the tip in, yeah? there's nothing wrong with that."
you hesitate. his strong arms slide beneath your legs to tug you closer. then his cock brushes your pussy and you whimper. how are you supposed to say 'no' ?
it's just the tip.
"mhmm, 'kay" you end up agreeing with a little nod.
rafe flashes you a lopsided smirk, his hand gripping his cock again while the free one yanks your panties aside once more. keeping eye contact, he slowly glides the fat head of his dick up and down your drenched slit, coating it thoroughly in your arousal. you shudder as his tip eventually meets your puffy clit, the gentle rubbing sending shivers down your spine.
"rafe," you whimper.
rafe's eyelids droop, a low hum of pleasure escaping his throat as he continues to slowly drag the reddened head up and down your chubby pussy lips with squelching sounds. his breathing grows heavier the longer he teasingly rolls it against your slick folds, reveling in your breathy whimpers. he feels like he's about to burst already, pre-cum steadily leaking from the tip and onto your flesh.
he can't fucking take this anymore.
with a slow, gentle thrust, he sinks his cock into your warm, slippery pussy, just the head breaching your entrance before he pauses, savoring the initial penetration. his eyes lock onto yours, his pupils blown wide with lust.
"jesus, fuck." he grunts.
your cunt starts fluttering around him. he has barely slided the first two inches in, as he promised, but he's so thick that even that feels like a tight fit. you let out a moan, which mingles with a strained groan from rafe as your velvety walls clench tightly around his swollen cockhead.
"gonna– might just nut already, shit" rafe mutters through gritted teeth, fighting the urge to just drive forward and hilt himself deep. "so goddamn tight."
your hips buck unconsciously against his, making him slip in just a tad further —which nearly makes him lose all his self-control. somehow, he manages to keep his shit together, hips rocking slowly to thrust in and out of you while his veiny hand strokes the rest of his shaft.
you're totally enthralled by the sight, liquid heat pooling in your belly while you watch him use your body for his pleasure. he looks so good, you can't believe he's real. your chest fills with pride at the knowledge that you're making this greek god feel good.
this is the fastest rafe has ever cum, the movement of his hips becoming jerky and sloppy after a few minutes as he spills his sperm inside you. he's panting heavily, sweat beading on his brow while his fist squeezes the base of his cock tightly.
you're left wanting more when he slowly pulls out, pussy stretched out and leaking white spurts of cum. he gazes down at you with a smirk, lightly tapping the head of his dick against your swollen clit, which has you writhing beneath him.
"so fuckin' gorgeous stuffed full of my cum," he whispers, his cock smearing the sticky substance all over your slit. you mewl in response. "hmm, 'm sorry for making such a mess on your pretty pussy, sweetheart, lemme clean it up, yeah?"
you blush in response when he leans forward, throwing your creamy thighs over his broad shoulders, to put his mouth onto your sex. you almost cry at the heavenly feeling, his playful tongue delving between your folds to lap up his own release. he cleans you up thoroughly, only to mess you up again right after, his spit soaking your cunt as he makes you cum again.
after tonight, you are cancelling that date, that's for sure.
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hoshizoralone · 7 months ago
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reflection
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stemmmm · 1 month ago
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the scene people keep screaming about from chapter 5 of theseus' guide
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mumblesplash · 7 days ago
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i’ve started getting so unreasonably cranky at those posts that are like ‘i’m sick of [aspect of popular media] someone should make [opposite thing]!!!’ by people who don’t seem invested in the idea they’re pitching as anything beyond a subversion of the norm. like ok. i see where you’re coming from but where are you actually going. look me in the eyes and give me one good reason you think that story concept is possible to pull off
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gutsby · 2 months ago
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Bigger in Texas
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Pairing: Joel Miller x Reader
Summary: Joel won’t fit.
Warnings: 18+. Unprotected p-in-v. Size kink (seriously, don’t read if you hate big dicks / disgusting descriptions) Penis and pussy pronouns. Virginity loss. Age gap. Praise kink. Daddy kink. Joel ‘hung like a fucking horse’ Miller is a soft dom and also a good teacher. Competence kink (?)
Note: Somebody made a fic challenge to use penis pronouns, and I can’t for the life of me remember who it was. If y’all find them please show them this and tell them I love their brain 🫠
Update: @sp00kymulderr you’re a legend for this. Dick pronouns are engrained in my brain, and I’m forever grateful.
Word count: 2.3k
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This wasn’t the life Joel Miller had pictured for himself.
The dead coming back to roam the world and eradicate most of its population, for one. The cold. Finding his baby brother way out here in Wyoming with a wife and a child on the way. The looks he was getting these days. It’s not like he’d asked to get mixed up with a girl your age. It just happened. And since damn near every-fucking-thing that had “happened” to him since outbreak day fifteen years back had been bottom of the barrel, full-blown nightmare territory, the second he saw a good thing fumble across his path, he’d seized it—you.
You, who were young enough to be his daughter.
You, who’d never seen a man fully before meeting him.
You, who hadn’t squeezed so much as a finger in herself.
But much like his past, Joel Miller was a sordid and sick kind of man, and he had the cock to prove it: presently weeping precum at the site of your softest, tightest hole, smearing the pearly-white slick through your folds with a sound so sweet it was nauseating. Begging for entrance.
“Oughta have a boy your age pop your cherry, kid.”
It was simple.
“Ain’t right havin’ a man my age all in your guts.”
And true.
The head of his cock made another wet, sickening noise through your folds, and as though instigated by the sound, your eyes flitted to the source. You smiled.
“Probably. But I want you,” you answered. Soft.
Joel got harder, and he hadn’t thought that was possible. His gaze joined yours, and the sight nearly finished him.
Beneath him, your legs had spread wider, showcasing that perfectly glistening seam alongside the head of his cock. He looked huge. Or you looked small. Or perhaps it was both, and he was old, and he really shouldn’t be doing this at all, but then his hips stuttered a bit and his length pushed in. Joel hissed and seized the headboard.
It wouldn’t even go in. The tip just stretched the rim.
“Baby, fuck—” Joel whimpered.
“He’s so big.”
Three little words from your lips, and it almost did him in.
Again.
You wriggled your hips and flashed another happy grin.
“He wants in, daddy. I can feel him pulsin’ like I am.”
You volleyed a look up to Joel as if to say, ‘So that means we’re ready, right? Will you let me have him?’
And, strangled by guilt as he was, Joel couldn’t resist.
He let his big, bulbous, leaking head sink in the tiniest bit, and he let out a groan. Your walls were so tight. This was him, too—his tip was oversized, just like the rest of him—and when it notched in an inch, Joel could see the pain flash quick in your eyes. His hips moved to retreat.
But then your heels were lifting and digging in his ass, and though strained, your voice made it out, weakly:
“Don’t, daddy. I want him.”
Joel couldn’t dream of refusing.
And his vision blurred more at that word, him.
“I-I know. He wants you too, baby—”
Another quarter-inch.
“—so, so bad.”
“Daddy!”
Joel had to blink to try and wake from his daze. His tip was so warm, hugged so perfect and snug and wet, that he didn’t even realize that was all that fit. He was stuck.
You whimpered again.
“‘S’too big, daddy. Just make him go in.”
Your eyes rolled with indignation and overwhelming pleasure alike, and your hips squirmed again. This time, you tried to nudge him in deeper, but your body simply wouldn’t budge; you’d reached the widest part of him.
“Honey, it’s—”
“Hurtin’! I need you inside me.” you cried, impatient.
“Just takes a little time to get there, darlin’—”
“Well, get to it, then. A tip ain’t enough.”
Joel’s face flushed. He might’ve been forced to bite back a laugh under any other circumstances, but this was your virginity. His bed. Your naked bodies, together, tonight.
He wasn’t about to rush it now and fuck everything up.
“This tip’s about to paint your pretty insides white and make you wait til next week to try again if you keep it up.”
That made you go still.
You shook your head while Joel released the headboard from his grip and took your hip in it instead. He grunted.
“Sweet pea, you gotta see—” he resumed, voice low, “—it won’t feel good for you or me if I just…push right in.”
You sighed, feeling his hold tighten.
“Tongue and fingers only do so much. You gotta learn.”
You whined, digging your feet in deeper when his tip drew back to your entrance. Looking a bit squeamish.
“Be brave…and patient for me.”
From the look in your eyes, Joel could tell you probably hated him right now. That was just fine. He adjusted his hips to a more comfortable place, and then he pinched your hip bone. He nudged you back, and he let you wait.
Then, right when you opened your mouth, he sank in.
Joel thrusted with only his tip, the size of a small lime, and he fucked your hole gently. Back and forth. Shallow.
It did enough. You squeezed both his forearms.
“Oh, daddy.” Your bottom lip trembled as you said it.
With his free hand, Joel smoothed your hair back.
“Yeah, what is it, baby?” he murmured, dulcet as ever, “Thought you said the tip ain’t enough for you, sugar.”
His words came slow. His strokes were delivered quick, though tenderly. Your brain appeared to be in a fog, or a trance, as your chin dipped down toward your chest, and you watched him breach the first inch of you repeatedly.
“Curious little thing.” Joel couldn’t fight the chuckle now.
“He’s so…” you trailed off.
You squeezed his arms, and he squeezed your hip back. He let you watch him fuck you with only his tip, and when your head began to tilt back from the strain, he reached up with his other hand and held the back of your neck. He felt you clench at that, and you both groaned.
“So…big,” you finished, eyes glazed.
“I know.”
This went on for the longest time: Joel stretching the first precious inch of your pussy with the head of himself, you watching and breathing deeply, whimpering occasionally, and him holding at the nape of your neck like a softer touch might lose you to him forever. Was this teaching? When you clenched again, he reckoned it was.
“That’s it, honey. Watch her swallow me.”
“Stretches real pretty for the tip, doesn’t she?”
“Bet she can’t even fit another inch of this cock.”
Suddenly, your head was jerking up under his hold.
Eyes flaring with a hot, juvenile kind of anger: “I can!”
Joel clicked his tongue against the backs of his teeth and pretended not to hear. He also had to feign indifference when your walls tightened and all but choked his head and a wave of new pleasure surged up through his body.
“She can, Joel, I’m serious!”
Another two seconds of this and Joel sensed he might see tears. Though his gaze had trailed up to yours, and the look in his appeared stern, deep down, he was just as quick to want to cave. He just hid it better than you did.
“You think so, sweet pea?”
“I know so. I need it.”
“Need him?”
“Y-Yes.”
How sweet you seemed. How naive you must be.
Joel might’ve been mean, but he wasn’t cruel. He also liked teaching lessons as much as he enjoyed showing you the way, so in the next second, he obliged. He took the last shallow thrust of his tip and sank into your cunt.
As he filled you, you whined. It only took an inch or two.
“Da-a-ddy. Please.”
You must’ve been begging for lenience. Joel retreated.
Then, much to the man’s surprise, you kicked your feet. Not in relief but in protest, shaking your head up at him:
“Put him back. Please. D-Deeper.”
It was as though Joel’s brain had exited through the back of his head and all rational thought escaped him, for the moment. The only voice he heard was yours. It was pleading. And in between your legs, you were soaked.
So drenched to allow him another inch. Then another. Then another. Joel fucked in gently and felt a seismic wave of pleasure seize his limbs—and likely yours, as well. It was as though in two blinks, you’d forgotten the pain altogether. You were suffused with need instead, eyes wincing and lips curling and sounds leaving your throat like an animal in heat. Want him deeper, please.
Joel sawed back and forth with just those five or so inches and made you writhe underneath him. Felt you clamp down on his thick, slippery cock and heard the remnants of your shared arousal making sounds as your body accepted him. Stretching wider. Getting wetter. Bringing him closer to the edge with every breath.
“She’s doin’…so good f’me,” Joel told you, brainless.
His thumb drifted to your clit. He rubbed it gently. No sooner had he finished the first circle around that nub when your hips were stirring again—this time incensed.
“Daddy.”
“I know, baby. I know.”
Joel kissed the top of your head, thumb insistent. When his eyes met yours, he was surprised to find them wet this time. Tears pooling and streaking down to your temples while your body bounced gently beneath his thrusts. A whimper trembled out, and Joel slowed.
He could tell from that look you didn’t want him to stop, though. It just felt so good. So, instead of dropping his pace too much, Joel cupped your chin in one hand, and with the other, he kept thumbing at your clit. Humming.
“Poor thing’s never had something this big in ‘er, huh?”
You shook your head. Cried a little more.
Joel kissed the tears on one side, lips smiling as he did.
“I can tell, baby. But she’s taking it so well.”
“Y-Yeah?”
His hips sped up a little. The thrusts were still shallower than they normally would be, given your state, but they seemed to be working well enough. You winced again.
Joel kissed the other side of your face to take more tears.
“Uh-huh,” he answered, “Openin’ up real nice for daddy.”
It was like his words worked as well as his thumb on your clit. You whimpered again, lips parting a little wider now, and the sound that came out was as desperate and feverish and fuck-drunk as Joel had ever heard it.
“S-Say it again,” you pleaded.
“Say what?”
“That he’s…stretchin’ me open. Makin’ me his.”
The soft, slick resonance between your body and his seemed to amplify even more—you were getting wetter, and Joel’s thrusts all but shook the bed with their force.
His eyes darkened when he felt you tighten again.
“Yeah? You like hearin’ all the filthy fuckin’ things your daddy’s doing? The way he’s breakin’ you in for him?”
You nodded. Your throat constricted with a moan.
And, just when a fresh set of tears seemed to be close on the horizon, Joel lowered himself to you. He held you to his chest, hips working relentlessly, and he watched your face screw up in pleasure. A trace of pain surfaced again, but it was soothed with a kiss. Joel grinned against you.
Between your thighs, his cock was throbbing with a feeling just as big. He knew he couldn’t keep this up much longer. Hurting and aching and needing as you were, he had to make sure that you would cum first.
When his cock grazed a fleshy, sensitive patch inside your walls, he knew it wouldn’t take much. He went on:
“C’mon, sugar. Daddy’s split you open on his cock so nice, least you can do is cum for him. Can you do that?”
His nose brushed yours. His thrusts sped up. You nodded, quickly, and when he shifted in the bed with his thumb still on your clit and his lips and his stubble grazing your mouth with every push of himself, he felt it.
It was a small pulse, at first.
Joel thought you might be adjusting—clenching—again, when the lips that were trembling against his own parted more. Your arms wound around his neck, and suddenly the throb of your walls around his member got tighter and tighter and tighter. One more second and your cunt might’ve squeezed the hot, sticky seed right out of his body and flooded your insides with it, but then came release. The ‘o’ of your mouth let out a shriek, at last, and your body went soft around him, beneath him, whining in turn, ‘Daddy, daddy, please’ while the muscles once taut and unflinching gave him reprieve. Fluttering repeatedly.
Joel fucked you through it. He talked you through it.
He stroked your hair, and he held you tight. Called you his sweetheart, pretty thing, perfect girl, you’re doin’ so good f’me. Keep going. That’s right, cum all over daddy. He told you to take what you needed, and without another word, he felt just that. Your cunt spasmed around him, and you consumed every inch he gave and drank every drop of spend shooting out in thick spurts.
You fell boneless on the bed when all was said and done.
You looked happy, and that made Joel even happier.
He stroked your cheek, and you leaned into it, clearly drained while your gaze held his in a weak sort of look.
It was soft. Loving, even. It could’ve been romantic.
Then Joel’s hand slipped down to the nape of your neck again. Your muscles were limp, like all the rest of you, but somehow, he was able to hold you up. Tilt your chin a bit.
Make you peer down between your shaking legs, where his cock was still sheathed inside you—partly, anyway.
Your eyes widened. Joel grinned.
“You did great, baby. Ready for the other half of him?”
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can y’all believe this image is what inspired this fic HA
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it’s only Thursday i’m sorry 😔
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bamsara · 3 months ago
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Some more cursed Narinder doodles for the post-Trod one-shot I'm writing + I think his face would come undone as he dies a little
Part one here
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pangur-and-grim · 6 months ago
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what’s happened now?? oh pangur….
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bloominglegumes · 8 months ago
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i love normal guys doomed by the narrative
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cubbyhole-for-flea-bee · 11 days ago
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(Not) an approved use of the Power Of Friendship
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tourettesdog · 2 months ago
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I am begging people to be normal about completed fics, and in particular one shots.
I am begging people to stop demanding more from authors, and insisting that one shots need to be longer or have sequels.
I don't think yall understand how many fanfic authors are one more "where's the rest of it?" comment away from throwing out any plans they might have had to continue an idea.
Unless an author like specifically says they might write more for an idea, just-- assume something marked as completed is complete, and respect it as it stands, please.
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datcravat · 10 months ago
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pe ru so na
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mochasucculent · 29 days ago
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Was looking at refs and since Viktor has two different leg braces I was wondering, do we think he wears them simultaneously?? The refs don't perfectly line up perspective-wise so it's hard to tell but parts of the one he wears during the Hexcore scenes look like they could maybe line up with the brace that he wears over his clothes, but also some parts really don't and look like they'd be super uncomfy. Also HOW does he take these on and off. Experts weigh in
#viktor#arcane#ig my assumption would be that he wears both simultaneously cause in the scene where he injects the shimmer#it seems implied that he just threw off his clothes and kept experimenting#so one might assume he was already wearing the smaller one underneath#tho it is a funny image to think of him just being like 'one sec i gotta go all the way home and grab my other brace to do this'#he can take off the back brace too cause hes not wearing it in the scene where he's in the hospital bed and you can see his shoulder#where the strap would be#but that one seems to make even less sense functionality wise#everything looks like its screwed together#or screwed INTO him#but only the top bolts on his spine are i think#in the close ups of his back brace model it looks like theres cushioning underneath the parts of it that cover the rest of his spine#so he can take it off. but HOW#what parts of it unscrew/detatch to pull open and off#does it not do that at all and he just has to shimmy it off his shoulder and all the way down his legs to get it off like a romper#the shape language of the designs are cool but like. tell me how it wooorrkkksss#forgive me if im just dumb and dont know at all how braces work and theres a very simple practical explanation for all this#any king who wants to infodump about mobility aids at me....the floor is yours#something to be said i suppose about the fact that zaunites have crazy prosthetics with wild augmentations that work flawlessly#and piltover's like. idk heres some fucking uncomfortable ass metal. salo gets wheelchair in non ada compliant place#they havent ever needed to adapt to accommodate disabilities etc etc#or maybe artists were just like 'heres a design' and everybody clapped and didnt give it a second thought#and then they just turned off the visibility on the mesh when they didnt need it knowing thered not be a scene where its taken off#dont even wanna THINK about what that rig would look like#like 40 different controllers#soft body and rigid hard surfaces needing to move together....#a cold chill just shot up my spine#<- guy who is only an animator and doesnt know how to rig#forgive the magic wand tool with zero cleanup. i am lazy
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nekrosmos · 3 months ago
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🕷️​🕷️​🕷️​
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zoldsick · 4 months ago
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── Lagneía
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𓍊𓋼𓍊 summary: shanks x f!reader - as the newest member of the red hair pirates, you have a long way to go to prove yourself, not only to your crew mates but your cocky captain as well. Unfortunately, things fall apart after a little excursion and a run-in with a glowing mushroom that has you feeling...hot.
𓍊𓋼𓍊 tags: smut, sex pollen, nsfw, dubcon (it's sex pollen, ya know how it is), MDNI
𓍊𓋼𓍊 wordcount: ~8k
𓍊𓋼𓍊 Read on AO3
𓍊𓋼𓍊 𓍊𓋼𓍊 𓍊𓋼𓍊 𓍊𓋼𓍊 𓍊𓋼𓍊 𓍊𓋼𓍊 𓍊𓋼𓍊 𓍊𓋼𓍊 𓍊𓋼𓍊 𓍊𓋼𓍊 𓍊𓋼𓍊
You really did respect your Captain, though you didn’t tend to show it. 
Benn Beckman was the one who had recruited you when he stumbled upon you in a gambling hall. You had been using Observation Haki to beat the dealer, racking up thousands in berri. Beckman clocked your underhanded method and cornered you outside the casino. You were nervous that he would report you to the authorities, but as luck would have it, he turned out to be a pirate. He was impressed by your advanced skills in Haki, and the two of you hit it off. Eventually, he brought you to the Red Force and introduced you to Shanks, who did not give the best first impression. 
“Who’s the kid?” Shanks questioned, barely looking up from his drink. 
He immediately rubbed you the wrong way. 
Beckman cleared his throat before you could tear him a new one, “This is Y/N. They’re who I told you about, the one gifted in Observation Haki.” 
Shanks finally looked up from his drink, lazily trailing his eyes from your feet, all the way to your face. He finally met your eyes and you struggled to maintain your composure under the immense pressure of his gaze. You lifted your chin, desperate to keep your dignity. 
Shanks kept his eyes on yours, his gaze intense as he questioned you, “And why should you be a part of my crew? Have you ever been around pirates or even worked as one? It’s dangerous work. Are you sure you’re ready for this kind of lifestyle, kid?” 
“I didn’t come here to be interrogated by some old man,” you bit back quickly.
Shanks put his hand over his heart dramatically, feigning emotional pain. 
“Listen, Red Hair, I came here as a favor to Beckman, I don’t have anything to prove to you.” You paused as the hair on the back of your neck stood up, “And if your friend hiding over there even thinks about shooting that spitball at me, I’m walking.” 
Beckman looked surprised, but Shanks only smiled. There was a clatter and some swearing before another man with dreadlocks emerged behind nearby ship supplies. “Well, shit. So much for that plan, Captain. Seems like she’s the real deal.” The man then jokingly blew the spitball at Shanks, who to your dismay, easily dodged it. 
“Color me impressed.” You look back to see Shanks smiling up at you. “You have a lot of potential. Let’s work hard together, Y/N.”
… 
While you didn’t join the Red Hair Pirates for Shanks, you became proud to be part of his crew over time. You had been sailing for around 6 months and were glad to say you had quickly proved your worth. Although there were members with better Haki skills, you knew you were improving every day with each new experience. 
You hated to admit it, but your captain occupied much of your thoughts. You often wondered if Shanks knew just how hard you were still trying to prove yourself to him. Though you saw him often, you rarely ever worked with him directly. In fact, you’d barely spoken to one another after your first meeting. You had occasionally exchanged a few words, formalities really, at mealtimes and during duty; but a part of you wished there was more. Though, you would never let him know that. 
You always put on a tough face in front of him, using words to bite back and hold your ground against the confident, and often cocky, Emperor of the Sea. Truthfully, after your first meeting you had come to admire him, and were slightly intimidated by the powerful man. 
While sailing the Grand Line in the New World, the ship stumbled upon an uninhabited island. It was a warm, tropical island, thick with jungle and vines. Shanks decided that the crew would depart and explore the island for supplies, and Roux hoped to find some edible plants and animals for their stock. 
All active members of the crew made groups and departed from the Red Force, but since you were not on shift, you’d decided to sleep in. When you awoke and found the ship docked, you decided it would be fun to explore the island as well. It was better than being cooped up all day in the barracks. 
As you stepped down the ladder a cheery familiar voice called down to you, “And where do you think you’re going, kid?” 
You jumped at your captain’s voice and looked up to see him. His hand gripped a rigging rope, holding him as he stood on the rail’s ledge, and leaned far off the ship to gaze down at you. His hair fell over his face, but his smile was still visible. 
“God, Captain. You nearly gave me a heart attack.” 
“Well, I’m just trying to make sure our ship’s hawkeye doesn’t stray too far and get into trouble,” he teased. 
“I’m not getting into trouble,” you grumbled as you looked back down to continue your descent onto the sand. “I just wanted to explore the island like everyone else.” 
“Alone?” His smile slightly faltered. 
“Is there a problem with that?” You ask, confused about where this conversation was going. 
“Well, we can’t afford to lose a member with skills like yours. I’ll come with you.” 
You reached the bottom of the ladder and looked up at Shanks in shock, “That really isn’t necessary, Captain. I don’t plan on going far-”
“Nonsense. Besides, you’re not much of a fighter, you should have a bodyguard when you go to unfamiliar places. And I have a duty to protect the valuable members of my crew.” As he said this he jumped from the railing and landed next to you. 
You did your best to hide how flustered you were, “There are other members with better Observation Haki than I do, you included.” 
Shanks tsked at your objection. He looked hard at you and spoke genuinely,  “Don’t sell yourself short. I heard about how you helped the snipers take out that marine ship last week. And I heard how you helped guide the navigator through the rocky sea and fog the other day. I’ve only ever heard other crew members praising you.” 
You quickly turned away from the red-haired man adjusting the strap on your bag. You knew you couldn’t stop the blush that was forming on your face, so you turned around to start walking into the jungle. “I just do what I’m told, Captain.” You quickly dismissed him, “Are you coming, or what?” 
Shanks laughed as he caught up with you, walking ever so slightly behind you. The walk was silent as the two of you marched deeper and deeper into the jungle, occasionally stopping to inspect certain plants or animals or collect samples in your bag. He enjoyed watching you as you took in the new landscape around you. He’d always found it fascinating to watch you while you concentrated. In fact, he had rarely taken his eyes off you since you’d joined his crew. 
From the second he met you, he knew you would be interesting. Shanks would be the first to admit he tested you during your first interaction. He purposefully pushed your buttons to see what you were made of. He needed to know how strong your resolve was before he let you, a stranger, onto his ship. And boy, did you meet his expectations, surpassed them even. Your insulting response nearly made him fall for you right then and there. But he knew his place as captain. He couldn’t risk showing special attention, let alone romantic attention to one of his subordinates. It was his job to keep you safe and provide you with a place to hone your abilities. He had to keep his distance. 
Yet… here he was, an Emperor of the Sea, trailing behind you like a puppy. He was rightfully worried to see you sneaking off the ship after the assigned explorers already left. He was doing this because it was the captain’s duty to protect his crew. At least, that’s what he told himself.
As you pushed your way deeper through the vines you tried to ignore the fact that Shanks was tailing you. This was just like any other outing with any other crewmate. You felt his eyes on you the entire time as you walked, but you tried not to let it affect your movements. Was he judging you? You felt a little more self-conscious than usual about what you stopped to look at or how you collected samples. Especially when you caught him staring intensely at your hands.  
You finally reached a large plateau. Looking up, you examined the wall looming far above your head, and at the base of the formation, there was an illuminated opening. 
“Shanks,” you called out to your captain, “there’s a cave over there.” 
Shanks shoved some pesky vines out of his face and looked toward where you were pointing. There was a small opening, barely 4 ft tall, and a blueish light was emanating from the abyss. You moved closer to the cave willing your senses to reach out and explain the phenomenon. You couldn’t sense any danger coming from the cave, so it was time to be like a pirate and explore. 
“I’m going to go in.” You stated as you dropped your bag to the ground and started making your way to the entrance. 
Shanks was quick, definitely not desperate, as he moved forward and grabbed your arm, “Woah! Hold on there. There is no way I can fit in there.” he gestured towards his large stature and again at the tiny entrance. 
You considered the situation and shrugged, “Then wait out here. I won't be long, I just want to check out what’s causing the glow.” 
Shanks frowned, realizing there was no point in arguing with you. “Alright, but be careful.”
You saluted him with an exaggerated hand on your brow and firmly stated,. “No.” 
You turned away from him and focused back on the cave opening.
“Brat.” you heard him mutter under his breath. You turned around quickly, did you hear that right? He had a smile on his face. 
You stared at him for a moment, a warm feeling blossoming in your chest. You smiled back before rolling your eyes and descending. 
The walls of the cave were rich in color, with layers of lichen growing throughout the chasm. You strained your ears to listen for any unseen threats that could have been lurking beyond your sight, but all you could hear was the rhythmic drip of the cave walls weeping. As you bent and contorted your body to ease your way through the damp walls, you could see the blue light growing in intensity ahead.
Finally, you reached a large pocket of space in the cave, enabling you to stand straight and take in your surroundings. As you stretched out your back you stared in awe at the sight before you. 
Dozens upon dozens of glowing mushrooms covered the room, growing across the walls and floor of the cave. The view was nothing short of dazzling, the light blue glow illuminating the space around you like nothing you had ever seen. 
You approached the fungus carefully, although they were beautiful, you knew well that not all beautiful things were good. You drew a handkerchief from your pocket and crouched forward to grab a sample. 
Suddenly, the hair on the back of your neck stood straight, and your blood chilled. You trusted your instincts and rapidly jerked backwards from the mysterious mushrooms. Unfortunately, you were not fast enough. 
The gills of the mushrooms expanded and expelled a great mist of spores. The sickly sweet-smelling mist filled the room instantly and you yelped in surprise, feeling your way out of the room and back into the tunnel. You coughed as you darted through the veins of the cave desperate for fresh air and open spaces. You could hear Shanks calling out to you and you forced yourself to push forward toward his voice. 
Shanks was anxious from the moment he heard you cry out. He felt helpless, unable to fit into the cave. He briefly considered blowing a hole through the mountainside to get to you. Thankfully, hearing your panting and clawing as you made your way out of the cave stopped him. He placed his hand above the cave opening and began calling out to you, begging you to keep moving toward him. 
Shanks wasn’t prepared for what came out of that cave. 
You stumbled out of the suffocating walls and fell onto the grass in front of your captain. You could vaguely hear Shanks, his voice filled with worry, but you barely registered it. Something was wrong. Your clothes felt tight and itchy, you felt your cheeks warm while the rest of your body developed goosebumps from the jungle air hitting your skin. And most troubling, everything from the deepest part of your core felt tight and ticklish. 
Shanks knelt down, grabbing your shoulder to lift your gaze to him. The contact between the two of you sent electric shocks to your core. Sitting face to face with your captain you could barely breathe. At this distance, every feature of his face was at your fingertips. You took in your captain's features. The jagged shape of the scars that ran down his face, the prickly stubble he grew across his chin, his eyes bright with worry, the color of his lips…  It took you a moment to realize he was talking to you. 
“Y/N! Snap out of it! Y/N! What happened in there? What's going on?!” 
The seriousness of his tone did not reach you. Why did he look so worried? You wanted him to smile at you like before. You reached up and touched his cheek with the back of your hand. Taken aback by this gesture, Shanks froze for a moment, then grabbed your hand, pressing it to his face harder. “Y/N. I need you to tell me what happened in there. You can do that for me, right?”
Your eyes widened, coming back to your senses you groaned as you tried to move away from Shanks and stand, only to find that your legs were jelly. “Capt’n. What's happening?” 
Shanks let out a shaky laugh, “Well that's the million berri question right now, kid. Tell me what happened in the cave so I can help.” 
You push your hands into your eyes, struggling to retrieve your memories, “The glow,” you whispered, “The glow in the cave. It was some kinda, I dunno, mushroom. It puffed some dust on’ta me.” you panted your words out. 
“Good girl,” Shanks stroked your hair with his hand, “Now tell me, what did this mushroom look like?”
“Was so pretty, just like the sea. Blue and glowing.” You smiled at the memory of the beautiful sight. 
While you reminisced on the memory, Shanks froze, overcome with the realization of what he was dealing with.
 It happened several years before you joined the Red Hair Pirates. Shanks and Beckman were wasting the night away at some bar when a woman approached him. He had noticed the dark-haired beauty staring at him from across the bar but had paid no attention. It wasn't uncommon for him to get stares as an infamous pirate.
The woman set down a blue sparkling drink in front of Shanks, “Don't think you're from around here, handsome.” She smiled and batted her eyelashes at him, “How about we get to know each other over a couple’a drinks?”
Beckman stifled a snicker and Shanks shot him a glare. Looking back up at the woman, Shanks politely declined her advances, “Sorry, I'm afraid I'm not looking for any more company tonight,” Shanks slapped Beckman hard on the back making him wince, “This fella’s all the entertainment I'll need for the night.”
The woman tried to hide her annoyance with a smile, “Well then, sorry for interrupting.” She sneered as she turned away, “But the drink’s still on me. Do enjoy.” 
Shanks and Beckman eyed each other and the drink skeptically. “Poison?” Asked Beckman bluntly. 
Shanks let out a hearty laugh, “Well, only one way to find out!” And downed the sickly blue drink in seconds. 
Shanks was stuck in his room the rest of the night, fisting his cock and rutting into his mattress. He admitted it wasn't his best decision. Hongo guessed that based on the color he likely ingested an aphrodisiac made from a plant called the lagneía fungi. “I've heard of petty thieves using it on pirates to steal their loot.” Hongo looked at Shanks scornfully, “Can't believe our captain fell for something like that …”
Shanks shook his head refusing to believe the evidence right in front of him. No! It can't be that. He brought his gaze back down at you and examined your face. You were flushed red, your pupils were dilated, and your gaze wandered across his body. He reached out to touch your arm and you gasped, goosebumps exploding from his touch. He really couldn't deny it any longer. 
“Alright Y/n, don’t worry. You’re going to be just fine, just try not to panic.” Shanks spoke, trying to reassure the both of them. Despite his words, Shanks himself was panicking. What was he going to do with you? Sure, it's just an aphrodisiac, but truthfully the experience was borderline torture. Furthermore, judging by how quickly its effects were overcoming you, you must have gotten a serious dosage in your system. If you were a male member of his crew he would laugh it off and condemn you to your bunk with a porno mag like he had done for himself. But how could he let you of all people suffer alone like this? 
“Am I gonna die? Everything feels weird,” tears pricked at the edge of your eyes, “like I’m on fire.” 
“You’re not going to die.” Shanks insisted, “You’re just, going to be… uncomfortable for a little while. Let’s get you back to the ship so you can lie down.” Shanks bent down and grabbed one of your arms to maneuver you onto his back. Hoisting you up, your breath hitched as your center came into contact with Shanks’ back.
Shanks took off at a brisk pace, navigating the rough jungle terrain. You tried to take Shank’s advice to calm yourself, but you were distracted by the friction created between you and Shanks as he strode back to the ship at an agonizing pace. Everywhere you were touching him felt hot and unbearable. You began to feel a familiar sensation brewing in your lower abdomen. No way, there’s no way! You panicked at the feeling and tried to create distance between you and Shanks to alleviate the burning coil between your legs, but he gripped your thigh back, securing you to his back. “Stop squirming, are you trying to fall over?” 
“Captain, ugh.” You buried your head in his back, panting from the unintentional pleasure, “Please slow down. Wait, please sto- Ah!” Suddenly the pressure built up to its peak. You squirmed and shook against your Captain’s back, fingers digging into his shoulders, unable to control your movements or your voice. With a final moan and gasp, you pushed yourself backward off of Shanks’ back onto the jungle floor. 
Shanks circled back on his heels to find you curled up on the ground, “What are you doin-”
The realization hit him. He noted your shaking legs and rapid breaths and suddenly he became aware of a slightly damp spot on his back where your bodies had just been connected. He grappled with his own arousal seeing you like this, disheveled and glassy-eyed. 
“God, Captain. I’m so sorry,” You covered your face with your hands, “I don’t know what’s wrong with me, I couldn’t stop myself.” 
Shanks was kicking himself mentally as he watched you before him. Here you were feeling humiliated, embarrassed, and vulnerable; yet, there he was feeling himself getting hard at the sight. He’d wanted you for so long, wanted to make you his. Shanks licked his lips. He pushed down his indecent thoughts and turned his attention back to you. This wasn’t the time. You needed to get back to the ship, and right now that’s all that mattered. 
In one swift movement, he scooped you up, placing a hand under your legs, carrying you in his arm. You wrapped your arms around his shoulders, burying your face into his neck in embarrassment as he took off running. He was fast. You felt the wind on your face as he swiftly maneuvered through the trees at a great speed, his black coat flapping in the wind behind him.  It took less than a minute for him to reach the ship. Shanks bounded onto the deck and managed to avoid the eyes of the returning crew. Reaching his room, he quickly ducked in and closed the door behind him, causing maps and papers to fly in all different directions. 
Shanks walked with you in his arm over to his bed and laid you down as gently as he could. “Y/N, you need to listen to me,” he slipped his hand through your hair and gripped the back of your neck to force you to look at him. You looked up at him dazed, trying your best to concentrate on what he was telling you rather than the feeling of his hand on your neck. “You’re not dying. Those spores were an aphrodisiac,” He looked at you hard, making sure you understood what he was saying, “That’s why you’re feeling like this.” 
You groaned and tried to hide your face out of embarrassment, but Shanks held you firm. “I’m going to get Hongo, he might be able to find some sort of sedative to help you work through this. You might have a shitty night, but I promise you’re going to be alright. I’ll be right back, ok?” He said softly.
Shanks lightly rubbed the back of your neck with his thumb before turning to leave, but you sat up and clutched his shirt to pull him back, “No! Please don’t. Don’t get Hongo.” You buried your head in his shirt, “I don’t want anyone seeing me… like this.”
Shanks’ gaze softened, “Y/N, Hongo is a professional, he’ll definitely be able to help.” 
“No...I don’t…I can’t have anyone see me like this, please Captain. I-” your voice cracked, “I worked too hard to gain respect on this ship. Please. Don’t let anyone see me like this.”
Shanks began to disagree, “Hongo really would know the best way to deal with this, Y/N…” he stopped upon seeing the panic in your eyes. He sighed as he relented, “But, I’ll keep this between us for now. If that’s what you really want.” 
You breathed a sigh of relief, though it was short lived. The aching between your legs was demanding attention, and you didn’t know how much longer you could restrain yourself from tending to it. 
“Y/N.” You looked back up at Shanks, “If you really intend to deal with this on your own, the only way I know you can find relief is to stimulate yourself or… have sex.” Shanks kept your gaze as he spoke. “I’ll leave you my room. At least that way you can have some privacy while you deal with this. I’ll make sure nobody comes in here. You have my word.” 
“Captain…” You found it hard to look him in the eye, you knew what you were about to ask wasn’t right, “Please. Don’t leave me.”
Shanks froze, for a moment he was speechless, he waited for you to meet his gaze and searched your eyes, “Y/N, do you really understand what you're asking right now?”
“I-” You doubled back over struggling to compose yourself, gripping Shanks silk sheets. Just imagining sleeping with your captain was enough to make your arousal unbearable. Despite your best judgment you shakily reached down and palmed in-between your legs, exhaling from the slight relief it gave you. You looked back up to Shanks, eyes pleading, “I can barely manage this right now. I can't do this alone. I'm begging you, please Shanks.” 
Shanks stared at you, mouth agape and spellbound by the proposition. He could feel his mouth watering and his pants tighten. Shanks remembered just how miserable he had been with just the small dosage he’d taken, so he couldn’t even begin to imagine the turmoil that was currently wrecking your body. He balled his fist gathering the last bit of restraint he had and whispered, “It… wouldn’t be right of me to do this. You’re not in your right mind, you’d take anyone in your condition-”
“No. You’re wrong,” you were breathing heavily, choosing your words carefully, “I couldn’t bear it being anyone else. I want it to be you… Unless,” Your breath hitched, you weren’t sure if you wanted to know the answer to the question you were about to ask, “do you not… want me?”
This was the final straw for Shanks. You had broken the great Emperor who’d tried so desperately to do the right thing. His resolve crumbled at your words and he found himself lunging toward you. He pounced over you, throwing you back onto his mattress as his lips crashed onto yours. Your senses exploded with electricity by his contact and you moaned into his mouth, eagerly accepting more. It was utterly overwhelming and you couldn't control the noises that escaped from your mouth as Shanks pushed your hand away to tend to your clit himself, shoving his hand down your pants.
Shanks briefly separated your lips and breathed heavily trailing kisses along your cheek and to your forehead, “I’ll ask you… one more time,” he muttered between pecks, “Are you sure about this?” He pulled back to meet your eyes. 
“Old man,” you huffed at him, “Won’t you shut up and put your mouth to good use for onc-” 
Shanks didn’t let you finish your sentence and forced your mouth wider to deepen your kiss as he worked to slip your pants off. Once they were off you spread your legs obediently for him, pushing your hips against his hand for more friction. With your pants out of the way, Shanks had more freedom to explore your folds. His thumb kept a steady rhythm on your bud as his other fingers dove lower. He smiled as he found how soaked you were for him. He gathered copious amounts of slick from your pussy, and used it to tease you further. Shanks moved his mouth down your neck, leaving dark spots where he sucked and teased. 
You could already feel that you were close to climax, you squirmed and whined for more. Shanks relented to your obvious request and slipped two fingers inside you. The gratifying release was instantaneous. You gripped Shanks’ arm as he massaged your walls through your orgasm. He reveled at just how seductive your body was and how your pussy gripped his fingers tightly. 
Shanks lifted his head out from the crook of your neck and glanced over to you, but you were worlds away. His whole body reacted when he finally saw you in shambles from his touch. Tears streamed down your reddened face, unable to concentrate on anything besides how good you felt, you just focused on trying to catch your breath. It was all so overwhelming, Shanks’ touch, his kisses, and his scent all around you. 
Shanks’ breath hitched as he let out a snide laugh, “Well, I guess that’s one way to shut you up, brat.” 
Shanks pulled away from you for a moment and the sudden loss of contact made you whimper. Shanks scolded you, “Quiet now, it’s not good to be impatient, Y/N.” Shanks teased as he shook off his coat and lifted his shirt above his head, discarding it onto the floor.  You watched, entranced by the way his muscles moved. His broad shoulders and massive tanned biceps patterned with scars. You felt the heat grow again as he turned back to you. 
You pouted at Shanks’ words, “It’s a little difficult being patient when you're so horny you feel like you're gonna explode!” You huffed, frowning dramatically. “Being in a hot man’s bed and watching him strip is not helping my situation.” 
You immediately regretted your words as you watched his brow rise and a wicked smile form on his face. “A “hot man,” you say. Is that what you think of me?” 
“Don’t get cocky,” you spat back, staring him down. He glared back, not backing down from your challenge. You couldn’t take it anymore. You just wanted him.  
With a mischievous smile, Shanks crawled back over to you, placing his knee strategically between your legs pushing into the wet spot of your underwear. He ground his leg as he reached his arm up to pull off your shirt, you lifted your arms to make it easier. Shanks sighed with bliss as your breasts came into view, no bra in sight. 
You gasped as Shanks’ hand groped one of your breasts and his mouth found the other. You leaned back and interlaced your fingers in Shanks' hair stroking and pulling on the red strands. You couldn’t help but inhale his scent as he devoured you. 
Shanks released his lips off of your nipple with a pop and moaned, “In all my years,” he said breathlessly, “I’ve never wished so much that I had both of my hands again.” 
You couldn't help but laugh at this statement, it was just too ridiculous. Shanks eyed you curiously, “Are you laughing at your Captain? Or, are you going to start calling me by my name like you did before?” Shanks’ mouth moved lower down your body, kissing your stomach as he trailed down, “Don’t think I didn’t notice you called me ‘Shanks’ earlier. What made you think you could drop honorifics with your Captain like that?” 
All you could do was watch him as his lips moved closer and closer to your core, you were speechless with anticipation. Shanks played with the fabric of your underwear, tracing the hem and circling lower towards your clit. You jumped from the sensation. “Though, I have to admit. I did like the sound of my name on your lips.” He continued to tease you with both his words and his movements. 
“Please, just touch me already, I can’t-”
“Call me by my name again. Then I’ll consider helping you.” Shanks was enjoying this far too much. His eyes twinkled up at you as he grazed your hip bone with his fingertips. 
You gave in immediately, your pride nowhere to be found, “Shanks. Please make me feel good. I’m begging, Shanks.” 
“That’s more like it.” Shanks shoved your underwear aside and thumbed your clit roughly. You arched your back at the sudden contact and cried out in pleasure. Shanks was completely enthralled with what was happening in front of him, he couldn't take his eyes away from your glistening pussy, soaking wet, all for him. He wanted more and demanded, “Lift your hips.” 
You immediately obeyed your captain and raised your hips. Shanks grabbed your underwear and ripped them off you. You leaned back with anticipation, but nothing came. You peered up at the red-haired man and you realized he was examining your panties. “Oh. Sorry, I know that old pair isn’t exactly sexy…” You explained self-consciously. Then suddenly, as if he was possessed, he shoved your soaked underwear into his face and inhaled deeply. Your mouth fell open at the sight. At last, when he lowered your panties from his face he stared at you intensely, his eyes drunk and lazy from your scent. 
You watched mesmerized by the man in front of you as he tossed your underwear aside, gripped the back of your thigh with his arm, and shoved it back towards your head. Before you could react to the sudden change of position, Shanks plunged his tongue between your folds and lapped up your juices. You gripped his hair as he indulged in your aroused pussy. Shanks moaned into you as you tightened your grasp and pulled his hair slightly. He felt his hard-on twitch painfully, desperate and leaking with pre-cum. It didn’t take long before you were rutting into his face, chasing another high and coming undone for a third time by your captain. 
As your spasms ceased, Shanks sat back up between your legs. You were mortified to see his face covered in your arousal. You sat up and began to apologize, “Oh my god, I’m so sorry let me just-” You raise your hand to wipe away the creamy slick from his face, only to have it shoved away and to be brought into another hungry kiss. The juices from Shanks’ mouth mixed in with your saliva as your tongues intertwined. 
You were at Shanks’ disposal, at his mercy. You wanted him more than you’d ever wanted anyone. It wasn’t enough, not yet. You needed more. Reaching down, you pressed down on the protruding tent that was rising in Shanks’ pants. Shanks pulled away from you slightly and hissed at the contact. You continued to palm at his growing member and whispered, “I want this, Shanks. I want to make you feel good too.” 
Shanks laughed weakly, “Well… if you ask me like that, who am I to say no?” He moved back to sit on his knees and fumbled with his belt and pants. You couldn’t help but smile at how he shakily tripped over his buckle with only one hand. You reached up and helped him by pulling his pants down. Although you knew from feeling him earlier, you were still taken aback by the sheer size of his cock as it nearly smacked you in the face. 
You eagerly eyed his cock and looked up at Shanks hovering above you, “Can I…” you begin as you reach up to take him in your grip, “suck it?” 
Shanks couldn’t help but let out a gasp as you came into contact with his dick. “If- that’s what you want. But only a little. I’m not confident that I’ll last long if yo-” Shanks was cut off by your tongue trailing up the side of his cock. A shiver ran up his spine, and he gripped your hair with his hand to hold on for dear life. You wanted to taste every part of him, you couldn’t hold back. 
You weren’t particularly experienced, but somehow you knew exactly what to do for him. You teased his rosy tip with your tongue, licking circles before wrapping your lips around it. You savored the salty taste and traced your tongue along the veins running down him. There was no way you could take him in his entirety, but you pushed as far as your throat could allow. You only got a few pumps in before Shanks stopped you. “Alright. That’s enough.” He sat back down on his rear and motioned for you to come to him, “This isn’t about me.” Which was true, but he knew his words were just an excuse. He easily could have come from just your tongue if he wasn’t careful. 
You got up on your knees as Shanks requested, and straddled him. His dick sat hard in between the two of you as he pulled you in for another breathtaking kiss while he used his free hand to continue to stretch you out. Finally satisfied with his prep, he broke the kiss and lifted your ass to hover over him. Shanks looked up at you and purred, “I’ll leave this part to you.” He wrapped his large hand around yours and guided it to his throbbing cock, “I don’t want to hurt you. So you need to go at your own pace.” 
You hesitated slightly at his command, insecure about your skills. But whatever shyness you felt about taking the lead was quickly dismissed by your overflowing arousal. With one hand on Shanks’ shoulder to steady yourself and the other seizing his member, you raised your hips to accommodate his height. You rubbed the head of his cock on your dripping pussy and you both hissed from the contact. Once Shanks was properly lubed by your fluids, you held your breath and slowly lowered your hips onto the tip of his cock. The head alone stretched your inner walls with an intensely painful pleasure. You felt overwhelmed by his size and the electric current that emanated from its pressure. You intended to take him slowly and acclimate to his size, but your instincts took control. You wanted to feel full. You wanted to be completely consumed by him. You hastily realigned yourself, took a breath, and slammed your hips down, instantly taking him down to his base. 
Neither of you could keep your voices contained. You let out a moan laced with the pain and pleasure of finally receiving Shanks in his entirety. The feeling was devastating. You gripped Shanks’ head pulling him to your chest as you entangled your fingers in his hair. Shanks cursed as he willed himself to stay in control, the pressure and sensation of your grip was mind-shattering. He wrapped his arm around your waist, gripping your skin to ground himself. 
You didn't give him time to recover. You raised your hips again and slammed down hard against him, receiving a grunt from him. You felt drunk, unable to control your actions, you found yourself rocking into him at an uncontrollable pace. The pain was fading away and was replaced by unbelievable pleasure. You needed more, you needed him everywhere. 
Shanks took advantage of your position above him, trailing kisses along your chest and leaving occasional bruise and bite mark. He used his tongue to tease and suck on your hard nipples. His hand wandered along the length of your back, grazing your spine with his fingertips leaving you gasping. Even the slightest touch on your body created an unbearable reaction, flooding your senses with bliss. 
Shanks’ hand continued to explore your body, ticking the nape of your neck, pinching your nipples, and finally falling between your legs. He flicked and rubbed your clit as you rode him at an alarming pace. You felt yourself nearing another climax as the coil in your core began to tighten. You chased the high as you ground against him, willing yourself to continue despite feeling like you were on the brink of collapse. 
Your climax hit you like a train, bringing earth-shattering pleasure throughout your body. You fell forward, pushing Shanks onto his back as the feeling overtook you, unable to continue. But Shanks wouldn't let you rest and you couldn’t contain your voice as Shanks cruelly thrusted up into you, compelling your senses to disintegrate as he fucked you through your peak.
Your ears deafened and rang as you laid exhausted against Shanks’ wide chest, still twitching on his dick. Shanks slowed his pace and you sat on him for a moment as you tried to catch your breath. You felt lighter than when you’d first entered Shanks’ room and your head was clearer, but the burning desire still lay unsatisfied. You tried to sit up to keep riding until your body was appeased, but found yourself collapsing again. Your legs were wobbly, unable to continue. “Shanks,” you whispered, “I think you’re going to have to take over from here. Please.” 
Shanks was still reeling from your ruthless pace on his dick. He looked up at you, astonished that you still had the energy to keep going. “So demanding. You’re making me forget I’m the captain here.” Shanks sat up and reversed your positions, laying you flat on your back as he hovered over you, “But, I guess I’ll follow your command this time, Captain.” 
Shanks pushed your legs back again and took a moment to examine your swollen pink pussy. It dripped and pulsed in anticipation, making it obvious that the mushroom was still wreaking havoc on your nerves. Shanks knew you wouldn't be able to keep this up much longer and decided to bring this to an end as soon as possible. He positioned himself above you and gripped his cock. Pushing it on you, he teased your clit with his tip for a moment before moving lower and watching in awe as you swallowed his thick cock to the brim of his balls. 
You gripped the sheets around you tightly, this felt even deeper than before, he was reaching far down inside and rubbing all your sensitive spots. He sat there a moment breathing deep with his eyes closed, feeling the deepest corners of your pussy squeeze and warm him. He was only brought back to reality when you squirmed and whimpered underneath him. You needed more friction, more movement, more anything. Your body was not going to be as patient as Shanks was wanting. 
Shanks opened his eyes and smirked down at you, “Don’t worry,” he gripped your thigh tightly with his hand leaving it stinging, “I’ll give you what you want.” 
Without warning he lifted his hips, leaving his tip barely inside you, and plowed himself into you as deep and as hard as he could. You choked on your own breath as he pulled out and hammered down into you again, and again. He set an abusive pace, each stroke hitting your deepest nerves and causing waves of spine-tingling pleasure.
Your heightened senses multiplied every feeling, every touch, and every kiss. You felt as if your body was going to disintegrate underneath Shanks. The sensation in your body was unfamiliar and frightening and it was becoming too much. You put your hands on Shanks’ chest in a half-hearted attempt to slow him down, but his merciless tempo continued to wreck your body. Twitching from pleasure, you attempted again to turn your body to run from the feeling. It was all too intense, it was too good and you couldn’t take it anymore. 
Before you could move away Shanks forced you back into position and entangled his hand with yours. His thrusts persisted as he leaned down his head next to yours and whispered gruffly into your ear, his slurring voice tickling your neck, “This is what you wanted, right? What you needed? Take it for me. Be a good girl for me.” 
You were nearly comatose from the pleasure racking your body. Just from his words, you reached another climax, and Shanks fucked you through it once again. Your eyesight became hazy and you knew you needed to ground yourself. Out of desperation, one of your hands reached out to claw his back and the other clenched his hair. You opened your mouth and bit down hard on Shanks’ shoulder. Shanks hissed harshly as your teeth pierced his shoulder, yet he found himself smiling. Your disobedience had always been a turn-on for him. Excited from the pain, he moaned into your ear, “I’m- close. So close.” 
“Come in me.” You cried out. You knew you sounded desperate, but you couldn’t help it. You wanted him to ruin you, “Please come in me, Shanks. Please… Please… Please,” tears ran down your cheeks and you lost all sense of self. All you knew was that you wanted Shanks, every last bit of him.  
It took all of Shanks’ willpower not to fulfill your request. 
Every last instinct in Shanks’ body willed him to release inside you, to truly make you his. But his reasoning prevailed. He knew that despite everything he could not do that to you in this state. So, with a few final harsh thrusts, Shanks pulled his cock out and released his warm come across your stomach. 
Shanks collapsed next to you, panting. He couldn’t remember the last time he felt like this. Everything around him felt fuzzy as he came down from his orgasmic high. Once he finally caught his breath again, he turned over and reached for you. 
You had passed out. 
 …
You woke with a jolt of pain as you turned over on your side in your sleep. Groaning, you shifted your body to try and stretch out your achy muscles. However, you realized that you couldn’t move. There was a weight laying across your abdomen… and your leg… and there was something pressed up against your back…
Your eyes snapped open. 
You weren’t in your room, that was obvious. But where were you? You turned slightly to lay on your back, and looking down you saw an arm strewn across your stomach. Horrified, your eyes trailed up to see whose arm it was. It took everything in you not to scream as you realized you were entangled in your captain's sleepy limbs. 
Your mind raced, desperate to remember what happened. You were exploring the island, Shanks came with you, you went into the cave and… 
It all came flooding back. 
You lay there in shock. 
What was going to happen now? What if someone saw you? Would you have to leave the ship? 
Your eyes wandered to where he lay, breathing deep in his slumber. He was shirtless and you couldn’t help but stare. Looking down you realized you weren’t wearing your own clothes, but rather an oversized off-white button-down shirt. It was obvious that Shanks lent you his own shirt. What a gentleman, you thought sarcastically as your body ached. But, you couldn’t help yourself, you turned your body to face him for a better look at the man before you, admiring his strong features. 
As you savored the view in front of you, Shanks willed his body to sit as still as possible. He had woken up nearly an hour before you had and had spent the time watching you sleep, stroking your hair, and indulging in the feeling of sleeping next to you. He panicked when you shifted in your sleep and decided to pretend to be asleep. To his surprise, you hadn’t gotten up to leave, and he could feel your warm gaze on his face. He savored this morning, never wanting it to end. 
The peaceful moment was ruined in an instant. 
Shanks’ bedroom door flew open with a loud crash as none other than Benn Beckman strode in. You and Shanks’ eyes flew open and met each other in horror before turning your attention to the trespasser. Beckman didn’t get more than three steps into his Captain’s room when he realized what he stumbled in on. 
There was a moment of silence, all three of you stared at each other, taking in the information in front of you. 
Finally, you came to your senses and flung the sheets over yourself to hide from the embarrassment. You felt Shanks’ hand lay protectively on your back as you hid, “Beckman,” He spoke sharply, “you’d better have a good reason for barging into my room.” 
Beckman gulped, “Definitely not a good enough reason for this.” 
“Right. Beckman?” 
“Yes?” 
“Leave. Now.” 
“Right. Don’t have to tell me twice.” Beckman turned to the door and stepped out of the room. You peeked out of the blankets and saw Beckman pause before closing the door behind him. He looked back at you and Shanks sternly, “I hope you two know what you’re doing.” 
And with that, he closed the door. 
You peeled back the covers and emerged next to Shanks. The two of you sat in silence for a minute, both pondering Beckman’s statement. He had a good point. What were you going to do now? Mushroom or not, the two of you crossed the boundary between captain and crewmate. Would you both ignore it and pretend nothing happened? 
Your mind was spinning down all the possibilities that were laid out in front of you. Shanks thought your ears would start smoking soon, and he spoke first. Laying you back down on his arm he spoke two simple sentences that made you relax and settle down to sleep.
“Let’s worry about this tomorrow. I’m sure we’ll figure it out.”
𓍊𓋼𓍊 𓍊𓋼𓍊 𓍊𓋼𓍊 𓍊𓋼𓍊 𓍊𓋼𓍊 𓍊𓋼𓍊 𓍊𓋼𓍊 𓍊𓋼𓍊 𓍊𓋼𓍊 𓍊𓋼𓍊 𓍊𓋼𓍊
𓍊𓋼𓍊 authors note: HUGE shout out to @nanpecan for editing this and helping me not sound illiterate
2K notes · View notes
gutsby · 5 months ago
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Who’s Your Daddy?
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Pairing: Stepdad!Joel x Reader
Summary: You get stuck in the washing machine. Thankfully, your stepdad is around to help you out.
Warnings: 18+. Unprotected piv. Deadbeat-Perv-Peepaw LOVES corny porn tropes and women over half his age. Stepcest & dubcon technically bc Reader’s locked inside an appliance, but she’s into it (getting fucked, not stuck). One (1) kick in the dick. Spanking. Brat-taming. Choking. Daddy issues. Size kink. Praise kink. Infidelity. Creampie.
Note: Saw this post by @ovaryacted and started BARKING. For my Old Man lovers/daddy issues crew, this one’s for you.
Word count: 8.3k
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It was the closest thing to porn you’d ever done before.
Still, you weren’t quite ready to call it that.
And why should you? Financial straits were no anomaly to a girl your age, especially in this economy, and almost everyone you knew had a side gig of some kind. It just so happened that your job required slightly skimpier attire. And a webcam. And some very special…accessories that would likely send your grandmother into cardiac arrest if she ever took a peek inside your bottom dresser drawer.
Okay, it was definitely porn.
But you never showed your face, so it didn’t really count as the same kind of stuff that your family condemned.
You scampered out of your room the second you heard the front door to the house slam closed all the same. Arms laden with G-strings, stockings, satin bralettes, lace and tulle bodysuits of almost every style imaginable, you ran a quick, perilous path to the living room window and made sure to keep your head ducked low as you did. You peered out through the gap in the curtains and had to squint hard to see anything in the midafternoon sun.
Then you saw it and felt instant relief—they were leaving.
Your grandma for one, your mother for second, and wherever the latter was headed, you knew her shadow would be soon to follow. You saw a thick plume of smoke outside and surmised that Joel was somewhere around the other side of the SUV, smoking and droning on about how he was perfectly fi-i-i-ne to drive, don’t be like that.
By ‘like that’ he meant sensible. And by ‘perfectly fine’ he meant two Miller Lites shy of completely shitfaced. You could already imagine the wry smile on your mother’s lips as she tried prying the keys from his hands. Your stepdad would probably plant a wet, sloppy kiss on her cheek to win a ‘yes’ in return—and when she shyly reminded him that he couldn’t afford to get another DUI, he’d get pissed and yank them out of her fist anyway.
Fucking loser.
Fucking triple-the-legal-limit dumbass motherfucker.
It didn’t bother you as much today because you knew they were only driving a couple blocks away to get to the farmer’s market, but you’d be lying if you said you didn’t hope he’d get caught. Again. Maybe blow a 0.25 this time and land his old, ungrateful, law-breaking ass in Travis County Jail, where his little brother Tommy was likely keeping a cell bench warm for him, per usual.
At any rate, you didn’t have time to be fantasizing now. It was your turn to embody some guy’s grossest wet dreams for the next two to three hours. Stripping away layer after layer of your latest, tightest ‘costume’ while catering to whatever requests happened to float in your inbox, you knew you’d be up to your eyeballs in work. Though almost routine by now, you had to hurry up.
If you could just get the rest of this ridiculous gunk out of your clothing, you’d be all good to go for the job.
TRMAN22: Pour honey on your tits in the next vid???
TRMAN22: Milk too. All over you.
Looking back, you probably shouldn’t have obliged that request. Now you were facing the consequences—forced to throw all your clothes in the washing machine because the milk and honey you’d dumped on yourself for that video had gotten everywhere, and then swiftly congealed while wasting away in a pile of laundry for over a week.
The whole heap smelled rancid. Still felt sticky, too. Presently, you chucked each one inside the washing machine while holding your breath, and as soon as the last was discarded, you sniffed the shirt you had on.
Tolerable. With the rest of your stuff in the wash, you hoped to get at least one request off the checklist:
TRMAN22: Bet you’d look sexy in a schoolgirl outfit!!
TRMAN22: Why don’t you try one on for me?
It was gag-worthy and gross. Slightly alarming for a man who was more than likely twice your age and old enough to remember Watergate, but you agreed to play along. Your old school uniform was, after all, the only clean clothes you had left, and ‘TRMAN22’ was, unfortunately, your top subscriber. He’d paid $300 for this video alone.
TRMAN22: Wear some NEON pink panties for me too ;)
You squatted in front of the washing machine and stuck a hand inside. You sifted around, furrowing your brows.
The brightest undies you owned were in there, soiled, but you figured you could get away with one gross article of clothing, all things considered. You reached a little further and continued to dig. When you couldn’t find it by feel alone, you peered inside the circular, metallic cavern of the washing machine and craned your neck.
Not here…not here…not—
You tilted forward, venturing a closer look with your head, then shoulders, pushing into the machine.
—here, not here, not—
“EW!” you shrieked.
In your search, you’d inadvertently brushed up against a mildewed piece of clothing that had gotten wedged between the grooves of the washing machine’s interior.
A pair of boxers, it seemed.
You recoiled as soon as your fingers grazed the wet and smelly thing. Your skull went crack against the low-sloped ceiling of the appliance, and a jolt of pain was quick to course through you at the contact. You groaned.
Of course Joel had forgotten some old, cum-stained scrap of fabric out of his last load. Always leaving his shit around for you or your mom to pick up like he owned the place. And here you went, again, angrily plugging your nose and pulling as hard as you could on the shorts to get them free from the washing machine. You hardly thought twice, just made a face and then yanked on it.
The boxers wouldn’t budge.
You tugged even harder. The fabric stayed put.
Something akin to a grunt and a whimper, only far more pathetic, slipped out of your mouth, and you slapped the half-hollow steel wall in frustration. Surrounded as you were—fully encased in metal—the sound just echoed.
“Fucking…CUNT.”
You weren’t sure if you were talking to the shorts, the machine, or Joel Miller in the abstract. Or maybe all three. You just hated the thought of washing your lingerie with your stepdad’s skivvies, and no amount of rational thought or practical reasoning could hold you back now.
The tip of your index finger sank deep beneath the same ridge of the wall where the boxers had gotten stuck. You curled it inward, trying to loosen the material up a little. You wriggled your knuckle even further. And just when you managed to get a hold of the cusp of the tangled fabric—just when it seemed the green plaid cluster was about to give way—you heard a low pop. You felt it, too.
Shortly, your finger was pinched inside the deep, blunt valley of steel that had similarly snagged Joel’s boxers. It seemed you’d pushed the tip of your finger so far that you were caught straight down to the second knuckle—trapped between two grooves of unforgiving alloy inside the washing machine tub with no clear means of escape.
You jerked your arm back, panicked. When the metal sank its teeth even deeper, you didn’t stop. Completely heedless of the pain, you operated on impulse and by the feeling of needing to get the fuck out of that little space, quickly, and instead yanked your hand back even harder.
To your horror, your finger was stuck.
“FUCK!”
You stared down at the poor digit, only half-visible inside the wall at this point, then glanced down at the heap of sweaty, sticky, slutty pieces of clothing that were presently strewn about you, and felt an even deeper stab of dread. Stuck inside your family’s washing machine with every bit of damning evidence one could hope to have—and wearing your old school uniform to boot—you realized at once you were fucked if you didn’t get out.
You slammed your palm against the nearest wall once more, shaking your other wrist like an unruly child.
“FUCKFUCKFUCKFUCK!”
You weren’t good at solving problems. In point of fact, you sucked at all things prudent resolution-related and regularly made it a habit to capitulate whenever you sensed loss inevitable. You were a little like your mother in that way, quick to give in to life’s uglier challenges. The only way you could conceivably claim to be stronger, the only place you always had the strength to say ‘no’ was—
“Aw, shit.”
—Joel.
Your throat tightened as soon as you heard the voice. Your eyes went wide, and the rest of you went numb.
Bent at the waist and kneeling with half your body inside the washing machine, you remained there, motionless. Back arched and ass out. Thanks to the way you’d rolled your old plaid skirt, the fabric covered almost zero cheek.
Someone behind you cleared their throat. Then coughed.
And coughed again, again, and again. Evidently trying to clear the smoke out of his lungs and the surprise from his eyes as he drank in your sight from the doorway.
“What in the—wh—th—” You could hear Joel wheeze, beating his chest with his fist, “What— in— the hell?!”
“Help me,” you hissed.
You weren’t sure why you chose that as your go-to. It just sounded like the right thing to say, and frankly, you weren’t sure how else to distract from the fact Joel was probably gawking at your ass as he coughed up a lung.
“The fuck do you mean ‘help’?! What are you doing?”
The coughing subsided, if only momentarily. You tried pulling back on your finger again to get out, but couldn’t.
“I-I’m…I was just…” you stammered, heart racing.
You heard the tread of heavy footfalls. You felt them.
“Just—trying…” you ventured again, suddenly at a loss for words and breath alike as you felt a presence draw in.
You could smell him.
That realization alone made you want to stop taking in air altogether. It happened out of instinct, really—feeling the shift of two huge boots settle behind your feet and then flinching inward, further inside the metal tub for…safety? A pang of abject humiliation? You were far past the point of civility with the man, caring what he thought, or fearing for your modesty in a position like this, but something about the proximity now just made you itch.
You wished your finger wasn’t jammed inside this appliance so you could give that feeling relief, somehow.
At length, Joel’s voice dragged you back:
“What’s stuck?”
Too calm. A second passed. Then he added, more stern,
“This some fuckin’ joke’a yours or somethin’?”
“No!”
“Then what—”
“My finger. My finger’s stuck.”
You tried to crane your neck to see behind you, but all your eyes had to feast upon was denim. Bluish-grey stonewashed denim, faded with years of use. Joel stood back for a second, as if considering what to do, and then you saw two hands descend to brace themselves against his knees. He bent at the waist to get a better look below.
When his eyes locked with yours, you got the same twist in your gut as you’d felt before, only sharper. Shameful.
The look on Joel’s face was abnormally bright.
“And how on earth did that happen, dumbass?”
Your shame morphed into chagrin in a blink, seeing the ghost of a smile bleed into your stepdad’s features.
“‘Cause of you, leaving your shit in here!” you snapped. Your chin jerked toward the green fabric, “I was just trying to get your boxers unstuck—and my finger…”
Your finger was kind of fucked.
Joel cast a look inside at the source of your frustration. He extended his left arm and reached over your torso, and as he did, you felt the slightest, albeit solid, sort of warmth press in. The man let out a low groan of exertion—likely at the strain the movements placed on his joints.
The warmth got worse. You weren’t sure where it started.
Vaguely, you were aware of Joel’s thumb pressing into your hand. Gliding down your finger, stroking across the spot where your knuckle had gotten caught, he circled over it, slowly, and made another sound in his throat.
“Well that ain’t…good.” Not one to mince words.
By now, your whole body was on fire. You barely had the strength to keep kneeling, much less speak to the man thumbing your hand and pressing his heat so close—
“Just get me out!” you shrieked.
You heard your mother’s voice in that. A shrill, impatient lilt in her speech that came out, invariably, around Joel. Normally, he would have done something to deserve it. But today, with his hand splayed over yours and his breaths as calm and even-keeled as he could hope to have them while he tried to help, he was blameless.
Evidently, he heard a trace of your mother too, because you heard him laugh. You felt the reverberations of his amusement travel up from his belly all the way to his lips.
“Cool your pits, kid.”
For that, you would’ve loved nothing more than to reach back with your free hand and hit him in the balls. But, as it was, this man was your only hope for escape, and he was being tolerably polite, anyway. He pinched your finger between the tips of two of his and gave it a tug.
“Okay, lemme just—” Joel started.
“Why are you home, anyway?”
The question came out more clipped than you meant it.
“Why are you dressed like that?” Joel countered evenly.
“I asked you first.”
“I asked you second.”
You reckoned he could probably feel you roll your eyes, even if he wasn’t able to see you do it right now. He waited another moment, then leaned back on his haunches and withdrew his arm from the tub.
“Mama don’t like me drinkin’ and drivin’, you know that.”
With that, the warmth was gone. Joel retreated.
“Like that’s ever stopped you before.”
You heard him exhale a little harder through his nose. When he’d steadied himself against the washing machine, gave his knees another second to prepare for getting up again, you could feel his eyes back on you. Maybe he lingered longer than his legs really needed.
Maybe if he hadn’t stayed crouched like that, he wouldn’t have gotten the chance to give your surroundings a second look. He wouldn’t have stopped to watch the rate of your breaths pick up or the way your skin startle to bristle with some strange, unknown sensation. He certainly wouldn’t have felt for himself the fever leaking out from the base of your spine right then.
Today just wasn’t the day for keeping secrets, it seemed.
“And what’s this?” You could feel Joel lean back in.
He was looking again. Peering inside. Steadying his weight with the edge of the washing machine gripped in one hand, while the other snaked its way back inside.
You’d already squeezed your eyes shut by the time Joel got a hold of something. You didn’t know what it was.
But it became painfully clear that it wasn’t just one ‘thing’ that had grabbed his attention at all, but rather a series of items that his hands were just now getting to explore. You didn’t have to see his broad and tan, callus-streaked fingers to feel them roaming over your clothes.
Gross.
Gross.
“Gross,” Joel agreed, as if he’d read your mind. Grinning.
If you thought the embarrassment was bad before, you really only knew a fraction of what humiliation could be. Your finger throbbed along with the pulse in your skull.
Your mother’s husband whistled and lifted something.
“Darlin’, this is just…disgusting.”
You winced. You tried not to pry an eye open, to steal a covert look through the frame of your lashes in that dim and crowded spot, but the inducement was too great—Joel was dangling one of your lime green G-strings like it was a fish he’d just caught out on the lake. Boasting it.
Doting, almost.
“Well I’ll be—”
“Will you quit?!” you snapped.
You grabbed the thing out of his hand and threw it aside.
“Can you be serious? For one fucking secon—”
“Oh, I’m bein’ serious, sweetie,” Joel cut in. Cool as ever, “Serious as the business end of a .45, I swear.”
He paused. Then he reached for a white nylon bustier, drenched in a layer of honey that was as hard as a rock.
“Do you always keep your little…skank tanks so filthy?”
That was it. You kicked your heel back—and up—and made a pass to hit your stepdad square in the balls.
Your aim wasn’t the best it’s ever been, seeing that half your body was trapped inside a home appliance at the moment, but what your jab lacked in accuracy, it made up for in force: your foot plunged into the seam of Joel’s jeans full throttle. From the way the back of your heel plowed into his crotch, and the sound that clawed out of his throat the same instant, you reckoned you did okay.
What you weren’t expecting was a smack in return.
An answer in kind—delivered by the palm of Joel’s hand.
A taut, thoughtless THWACK on the swell of your ass.
Your mouth fell open. Your body barely had the chance to recoil when, shortly, another blow landed on your cheek.
Joel spanked you.
Spanked you.
“Fuckin’ brat,” he spat. His palm had slid up with the weight of his last slap, and now his fingers were clenched in a fist in the back of your skirt. You couldn’t see it, but you could feel him gripping fabric. It was firm.
He was firm—unrelenting in his hold.
Kneeling behind you, yanking back a handful of tartan skirt like it was nothing, then sidling up behind you.
And just when your attention was drawn to some other firm thing, it was shortly diverted by another sensation.
“JOEL!” you shrieked as he gave you another spanking.
The bare skin of your cheeks was on fire. Joel hit hard. Just when you feared you might legitimately whimper with the sting of that last blow, and while the imprint of his palm was still fresh, you felt it move again. Lower.
“Joel.”
That came out more like a whine than a cry of protest. And how could you, now, when he was soothing the raw bite of his hand with a touch that was kneading the skin?
Working the soft, supple flesh of your ass in his hand like he’d never dream of being anything else but gentle to it.
“Good?” Joel said.
Your head flinched to nod, but your brain thought better.
It did feel good. So good, in fact, that your eyelids were starting to droop just a bit and your back was subtly arching into the touch, but those were only instincts. Stupid, useless, brain-rotted reflexes born of years of paternal neglect and replete indifference, the likes of which could bring a grown man to his knees, begging—
“Please.”
But the entreaty was your own, and the voice that spoke it was hoarse. Your belly sank into the circular aperture of the washing machine, and you could feel your ribs scraping close to metal. Nevertheless, you didn’t mind. That ditzy lizard brain of yours was starved for physical touch, and who were you to deny her at a time like this?
No, not when Joel was squeezing like that.
Groping was the more appropriate word for it, really. Notwithstanding the decades of sexual experience that no doubt preceded the man that was standing before you—behind you—today, Joel was unduly coarse. His broad, weathered hand made as if to cool its former sting, but the motions themselves were jerky. Desperate.
He needed this worse than you, the fucking pervert.
Just when the realization had begun to settle over your mind and your legs were getting to feel a little less like jelly, knowing you weren’t the only weak one here, Joel’s palm slowed down. He pressed the heel of it into your flesh as if to force himself to stop, then he took a breath.
“Now use your words.”
“But—” you sputtered.
“I said,” Joel resumed, and you could sense it was through gritted teeth. His movements came to a halt.
“We use our words when we want somethin’, hear?”
It was the first you’d heard Joel attempt to enforce anything close to discipline with you in your life.
That had to warrant a little defiance, no doubt.
Under your breath, quiet: “So ‘we’ includes ‘you,’ too?”
Beneath that one, seemingly innocuous question was lurking another, and both of you knew it: Remember that time you put a fist through the kitchen wall? Was that a good example of what it means to ‘use words,’ Joel? Whether it was adequate provocation or not, you could sense what was coming next before you’d even finished. When the spank landed on your right cheek so loud that it echoed, you didn’t flinch. You did snag your lip between your teeth to keep a sound from spilling out.
“A dad makes rules. Ain’t his to follow,” Joel growled.
You blinked and bit down harder. Watched the broad, amorphous shape of the man’s reflection shift along the back metallic wall in hues of grey and blue and wished you had the strength to turn around and face him then.
“You aren’t my dad.”
“Said ‘a’ dad, didn’t I?”
“You’re not that either.”
Heat was rising to your cheeks again, this time for different reasons. For a cause you were far better acquainted with to date—annoyance at Joel.
“So that means I’m—”
“Nothing. You’re nothing to me,” you finished, tone wry.
Nothing to anyone, you wanted to add. Not with a shiny gold band latched onto your left hand to tell the world that you’re married to my mother, a pack of smokes tucked away in the jeans she washes every week, or a couple years spent under the same roof as me. Nothing.
Your teeth clamped back down—and almost sank clean through your lower lip this time—when next you felt a touch at the plush, covered mound that was normally shielded between your legs. The spot that was hardly ever tilted up in a position like this, exposed to the air and a man’s hungry gaze, now invaded by the press of a single thing: a warm and soft middle finger at your core.
Joel brushed the tip of it against your entrance, through your panties, and sucked a breath through his teeth when both of you felt a tiny squelch at the pressure.
He pressed harder, and the wetness only spread.
You didn’t have to be in Joel’s position to know what he was seeing, but the feeling from his finger overpowered any better sense to speak—or tell him to stop. He traced his slow, cruel circles against your warmth and moved it up to where he knew he’d find your bud, and when you whimpered, he simply added his index to the mix. There wasn’t a doubt in your mind you were leaking heat at that point. You could feel it seeping beneath his touch.
“Nothin’, huh?” Joel breathed, voice low. Your arousal made a sickening hiss beneath his fingers as he rubbed you even harder, “This feel like nothin’ to you, honey?”
You couldn’t speak. He knew you weren’t capable of it.
“‘Cause this sure don’t feel like nothin’ to me.”
Wet and tacky beneath his touch, your warmth supplied the answer that your mouth couldn’t form. It came out in more of a tap, tap, tap, punctuated by breaths that were toiling in earnest not to turn into moans too soon. But, as hulking and clumsy as his hands had once shown themselves to be, the old man knew where to put them, at least. He made circles on your clit with practiced ease.
“You can try lyin’ to me, but she can’t.”
He was right. ‘She’ was a traitor.
You could deny it all you wanted, but the proof was there.
Indeed, she was crying. Aching. Bleeding with desire. Throbbing beneath the pads of Joel’s fingertips and growing only more desperate as he increased the speed of his touch. When he notched the drenched cotton to the side, you had to grit your teeth to keep in a whimper.
Joel whistled.
“See? Seems like she likes me just fine right here.”
Your jaw stayed wired shut with the weight of your own humiliation. Instead of answering aloud, you hummed. Made a sound low and soft in your throat like, ‘Uh-hmm’ and tilted your hips, as if you didn’t know how else to ask. Joel couldn’t see inside the washing machine, but he must’ve felt the gesture, because he greeted it with a motion of his own: he chuckled, and he puckered his lips.
And when you felt the warmth of his spit hit you between your folds, your shame should’ve tripled. Should’ve made you flinch away from his touch and tell him that was so fucking gross, Joel, stop, but then he smeared it up your slit. He pressed in and mixed it with the rest of your arousal; any reproach died on your tongue in an instant.
A part of him was on you now. Trickling in, sticking to the most sensitive part of you, and settling into your skin like a glaze. With his other hand, he found your skirt again.
“Who’re ya wearin’ this for, sweet pea?” Joel murmured.
“No one.”
Another glob of spit landed between your cheeks. Now, the man used the lubrication to sink two fingers inside you—pushing them in until the rim of your cunt met his knuckles. You whined at the stretch, felt him coax your walls open with a consciousness and a carefulness that felt almost mean, but then he stroked down the base of your spine with the hand that still held onto your skirt. He soothed your startled cry with a curl of his fingers.
And he found the soft, spongy patch of flesh inside that made your eyes roll straight to the back of your skull, quickly. Working his fingers in and out, flattening the base of his free hand over the skin exposed by your flipped-up skirt, and watching your body give way to the force of his fingers, he was uncharacteristically patient. Exacting in the way he worked your body open to him.
“What do you care?” you groaned. You winced when you felt a squelch signal that he’d stretched you even wider.
“‘Cause,” Joel started, slow. Pumping his fingers through your folds and likely wondering when he’d add a third, “You got your hand stuck in a fuckin’ washing machine, a treasure trove of this slut stuff piled in a heap…I mean…”
“They’re just clothes!”
“Just clothes?”
In the wake of those terse, incredulous words, you tried your best to match his tone—call his bluff—but the only sound that came out of your mouth was punctured by a pitiful whine. He tried another finger but couldn’t fit it in. As wet as you were, and as strong as he was, your cunt wasn’t quite ready to accept all three of Joel’s thick, probing digits inside. You’d fit more than a thing or two with a girth even greater than that in the past, but you figured your nerves might have something to do with the way you were tightening around the man’s fingers now.
Why you couldn’t take more of him in, as much as you wanted him there, felt, at present, like something of a shortcoming, and a pathetic one at that. You let out a breath, and a second later, Joel slowed his motions.
You didn’t expect him to stop. Didn’t hold out a hope he might curtail his pace and talk you through a quiet, gentle arrangement for fitting a third finger inside you—that just wasn’t him. You didn’t have to share a paper-thin bedroom wall with your mother and her husband for the last however many years to know that Joel Miller was not a tender lover. It simply wasn’t in his nature to care.
So when you heard the clink of a belt coming undone a moment later, your senses strangely flooded with relief. He wouldn’t care, wouldn’t inquire, wouldn’t coddle with false, romantic ideals of how a woman should be treated.
In that way, Joel shared something in common with your father after all: he set standards as low as they could go.
“Just clothes?” he repeated, snapping your underwear against your ass and jerking the fabric further aside.
Then somehow send those expectations even lower.
There was a hand splayed out across the small of your back. Another fiddling with the front of his pants, wrestling the button and zip of his jeans in little more than one, two, three careless seconds, before he drew in closer to your rear. Your slit was messy, wet, and exposed to his eyes once again. For a second, you almost took comfort in the fact that your hand was still wedged inside a groove of steel and you couldn’t meet his gaze.
That was, until Joel slid his bare length along the seam of your cunt. When the inability to see him made it so you had no other choice but to be surprised when he finally touched you was unnerving, to say the least.
And when the head of his cock blended seamlessly between your folds, was drenched in less than a blink and nearly notched straight into the place you needed him most—well, that had an effect on him, too. Joel moved his flat and sweaty palm up your back, found purchase in the hem of your blouse, and gripped it. Tugged it down a little more and let a low groan billow out of his throat while he rocked his hips back and forth.
Desperate, clumsy, pussydrunk Joel was back before you’d even realized he’d left. Only now he was keen to put the disquiet and hesitations to rest; he needed to fuck you before either one of you wisened up just then.
Your parts and his commingled again. First, with the lethally warm trail of precum leaking out from his tip. Then the intrusion that followed, inevitably, glossed with self-indulgence and desperation—soiling any semblance of platonic affection or parental attention—as he fed you the first inch of him. Barely half the head got fitted inside and your grip on that was like a vice. Joel’s was bruising.
Suddenly firm on your hips, carving crescents in the skin:
“When’s the last time you got fucked, baby?”
You reckoned Joel had a guess—and it wasn’t correct.
“Last…week,” you whimpered, words punctuated with a sigh as his cock tried to make room for more of him.
Joel sucked in a breath that almost sounded like a laugh. He’d barely gotten an inch past his tip, facing more resistance than he’d felt in a long, long time, and you were wet, but so tight. He was big but not so massive as that. He couldn’t fathom what you were saying was true.
“That…fratboy fuckstick you went out on a date with?”
“Didn’t think you even saw me leave.”
Joel withdrew, gripped your hips even tighter, then drove his cock to nestle three solid inches inside your cunt. It was extra snug, but he made sure to try to loosen you up with a couple short, shallow thrusts and a hand gradually drifting down between your legs. Of course he saw you.
The circles on your clit and slow-growing movements may as well have been kerosene in your veins. With what limited range of motion you had in that grey, compact space, you let out a sigh and dug the fingers of your free hand into the closest scrap of fabric beside you. Joel’s own touch gradually moved from your hip to drag your hand behind your back, clasping his. He fucked in deeper
“So that’s who this is for?” Thumbing your skirt.
“Y-Yeah,” you lied.
“Wanted to send naughty pics in the schoolgirl getup?”
“Yes,” you lied again. You closed your eyes when Joel sank his cock even deeper and made you stretch inside.
“‘Atta girl,” he praised.
It might’ve been the first he’d validated you in your life.
“Grippin’ this cock extra tight, ain’t ya, sweet girl?”
Never in a million years would you have imagined it’d come this late—or leave Joel’s mouth in a way like that.
‘Elastic’ wasn’t a word you’d ever used to describe your body, either. Frankly, there was no need for it to be; every one of your partners before had been average-sized, and every other object that went inside you, too, had almost always been a comfortable squeeze between your walls. Outside of maybe your first time and a once-off awkward hookup now and again, you were never forced to feel a stretch to this degree. Joel felt huge moving inside you.
He was nearing your cervix and still nowhere close to the base of his cock. Meanwhile, you were stuffed to the brim, saturated with arousal and his spit, and practically keening at every stab of his hips. You couldn’t reach back because Joel’s fingers were still enmeshed with yours, gripping them hard behind your back. As wore down, fucked out, and desperate as you already were, you were less than only a second away from asking him to ease up.
And then he stopped.
Joel pulled out, let go, and pressed onto the old washing machine, where you heard his touch echo through metal.
He was leaning against it. You were about to turn around. Before you could, though, you felt his form mold into yours—this time not in it, but on it, as he drew closer and once more reached into the space where you were stuck.
“Can you be brave for me, baby?” Joel murmured.
“Wh—” you started, soft, only to feel the words plucked straight from your lungs as Joel leaned his body inside. Carefully, and with concerted effort, it seemed, he was trying to squeeze his way into the O-shaped hole of the washing machine, snaking his arm around your torso.
Pinching your finger again. Breathing just gently enough for his exhales to tickle at your shoulders and your neck.
“Can you be brave?” he repeated, and you weren’t sure you’d ever heard him so soft-spoken, or felt him so close.
You nodded, not knowing why.
Without another word, your stepdad pinched the digit even tighter and yanked it out from where it was stuck.
It all happened so fast. Joel freeing your finger, squeezing it tight, helping you out of that hot and crowded space while your legs gave way like mush beneath your weight—and your hand throbbing in pain. You’d never thought a single finger could cause a feeling as strong as that, but it stung like hell. You almost raked your nails through the man’s arm when he tried to hold you back, holding you up just as well as you stood.
“Joel!” you screeched, like the whole thing was his fault.
You flexed your hand and wanted to sob. You could feel the streaks of pain start to claw up your wrist, were just about to shove Joel aside and wallow in agony, when at length, he did something strange and unexpected again.
This time, he lifted your index to his mouth and kissed it.
It wasn’t a sensual kiss. Coming from Joel, it hardly even seemed affectionate. His lips were so warm and firm and decidedly unacquainted with anything approaching a threat of tenderness that his act read almost aggressive. He let your finger rest loosely against his mouth, and he kissed it again, while his eyes burned holes into yours.
‘You’re okay’ came out muffled against your hand.
“You’re okay—hey—baby, you’re good. Don’t cry.”
You hadn’t even noticed the tears had started to form. You blinked and felt one trickle down your cheek. With the hand that wasn’t holding your wrist, Joel brushed his thumb against that lone trail of moisture. He didn’t cup your face, hold you close, or stroke your cheek in the seconds that followed, though he did keep kissing you.
Or, rather, it—your finger.
Joel didn’t have to care for you at all. He just feared he might’ve pulled on your hand too hard in getting you out.
‘You’re okay’ was being mumbled away like a fractured refrain, touch descending gently to your hip, and his eyes grew softer by the second, surely he had to be thinking it.
Sinking inside you, again. He was standing; your hips were tilted to his, and your ass was pressing flat against the front of the washing machine. All it took was an inch or two off the ground and your limbs hanging limply around his hips for Joel to fuck back into you. He sucked on your finger so hard you feared the skin might actually bruise—a hand hickey, of all fucking things—and when his grip tightened on your side, you knew he felt it too.
His teeth succeeded his lips in an instant, and he was biting, gnawing pathetically as a groan shuddered through his chest. If you didn’t know better, you might’ve said the sound was veering perilously close to a whimper.
Fully sheathed inside you, Joel Miller didn’t seem to care. His lids fell like lead across the upper half of his brown, glossy eyes, and the expression behind them was blank.
Safe.
“‘S’alright, baby,” he grunted. Maybe he’d just seen you wince, as he cradled your hand and withdrew another inch, “Keep squeezin’ me, it feels real good. Right here.”
Out of instinct, your gaze drifted down to the spot where his body joined with yours. The sight was hardly a shock, but the feelings it evoked were not—he had you split along two-thirds of his dick, a pretty shelf of belly protruding beneath and gleaming with the arousal he’d drawn out from your body. Tufts of silver and grey littered his skin in every direction, aged muscles tensed with the weight of each thrust, and the warm weathered hand that hadn’t dared touch you once before today was now cupping your chin. Tilting your head closer to him.
“Right here, baby. Look at daddy.”
Wild, unbridled heat flooded your brain in a second. The thing seared the insides of your skull with all the force of a fire and stole the air from your lungs just the same—still, you couldn’t refrain from making a face in disgust.
“What the fuck, Joel?” You shouldn’t have liked it.
His hand ascended your throat in a blink.
“Ain’t that what you want, sweet pea?”
“I—”
Just as you started to answer, though, his cock took a dizzying plunge, hitting exactly the right spot inside you. Like clockwork, your mouth fell open, a whine tumbled out, and Joel took that as his chance to grip your neck even tighter and push your hips against the washing machine, where his height afforded him an easy hold.
“What you want—”
He squeezed harder.
“—what you need—”
You gasped, starved for air. It wasn’t every day a man took your breath away. Not like Joel could, anyway.
“—is me, ain’t it?”
The gaze fixed on your face was alight with desire.
“Bet you miss him somethin’ awful, huh? Been needin’ a man to fill that spot ever since he left, haven’t ya, baby?”
‘He’ required no further clarification. The words stung. You communicated as much by wriggling your hips back and pressing your hand against Joel’s chest, just quit it.
Keep fucking me, but shut the fuck up about my father.
“I don’t miss shit,” you sniffed. Felt the head of Joel’s cock carve a shape somewhere deep inside your body and couldn’t pretend it wasn’t filling a metaphorical void someplace else. You hadn’t got this much attention from a man as many years your senior since…well, ever, really.
You preened beneath his touch. Wanting to feel. Wanting to please. Wanting, more than anything, to be needed.
Joel sated each craving with a simple hand smoothed over your face. His palm moved from your throat to your chin to the hinge of your jaw before coming to rest at the nape of your neck. This time squeezing lightly, bringing your face in close while he fucked you. He pressed a kiss to your forehead, and your stomach tightened inside you.
“That’s alright,” he said, words hardly above a whisper, “No need to miss that man at all, ‘cause I’m right here.”
For once the assurance came as somewhat of a comfort. You suspected it had something to do with the fact he was balls deep inside you and pushing you closer and closer to the brink of release with each painstaking stab of his cock. You fisted his flannel, holding him there. Spreading your legs, accepting his thrusts, taking each movement with ragged, shallow breaths and moans that blended with his own, you felt your body grow warmer.
Almost febrile beneath him as he tilted your head again.
“Who’s your daddy now?”
You winced, shaking your head. You hated that word.
“Who’s your daddy?”
Joel lowered his hand and began to thumb at your clit. Hot pleasure coursed through you, made you whine at the contact and dig your heels even deeper in his back.
“Who’s your daddy, baby? It ain’t that hard to say.”
But it was. Joel stroking your clit, stuffing you full, ghosting his lips against yours without ever furnishing a kiss, just goading you on with: ‘I know you wanna say it.’ Tough grey stubble teased your mouth with each word.
“I know she needs to cum, sweet girl. Know that poor little pussy’s taken a beating—and she’s done so good for me—but she needs to let it out now. All over me.”
His gaze held yours. You couldn’t turn away.
An unmistakable tenderness pervaded that look, and it didn’t seem keen to depart. No matter how tightly you pursed your lips, made fists in his shirt, or choked his cock between your walls in fluttering, desperate pleas, the man remained calm. Attentive. The eyes didn’t stray.
“It’s okay to say it.”
“C-Can’t—”
“Sure can. Be the easiest thing you ever do—D-A-D-D—”
“Please. Please.”
You hardly even knew what you were asking for at this point, only beholden to that big, swollen something in your tummy starting to give way beneath the push of Joel’s cock. Tightening up, leaking out, practically drooling down the length of this man who seemed relentless in his current pursuit. Two more circles on your clit and you were keening, whimpering pathetic as ever:
“Pleasepleasepleaseplease.”
“Say it now. Who’s it for?”
Above you, Joel’s teeth gleamed in a smile—or a snarl, you couldn’t tell. All you knew was the pleasure, the concomitant pain of having to contain this desperation while his thrusts sped up. You were bouncing on him, getting fucked against the washing machine in the raw and terrible central Texas heat wearing a sheen of sweat and a set of clothes that no longer fit your body, but that was just fine. You were okay. Joel was here, and he was holding your head, lips hovering less than an inch away.
“Who’s. Your. Daddy?” His words were slow. Coarse. Spilling into your mouth with every short puff of breath.
You couldn’t take it. You felt a band of pressure come to a head in your belly and the brush of Joel’s cock making its rounds in and out of your swollen cunt, pushing hard, and you knew that you’d had enough. He knew it, too.
“Y-You.”
“Who?”
“Joel.”
“Who?”
Your wet, pearly slick rang a deafening pitch. Enough.
“You, daddy! Daddy—please, fuck—I-I-I’m gonna cum.”
“Gonna cum for me? Make a mess of your old man?”
“Make a m-mess— yes, daddy, yes—” you slurred.
Joel drove his cock, fully coated in you, down to the hilt. He captured your lips in a kiss and didn’t even mind your mouth was whining, hissing, whimpering its filthy pleas for him to fuck a nice, big orgasm out from your body.
“—want yours inside,” you added, without realizing it.
“Sweet girl…” Joel groaned.
You didn’t know what you were asking him for. How badly he wanted it, too. His cock dragged in and out of your precious cunt and was barely more safe from the threat of its grip when you spasmed, at the last. Joel should’ve expected no less, after all the time he’d spent teasing and edging, then begging you gently, in grunts, ‘Cum for daddy, baby. Let me have it, that’s it, good girl.’ Still, somehow, he wasn’t prepared in the slightest.
When you squeezed your eyes shut and kissed him back—that was all it took. When you clenched on his cock, gave the front of his shirt a tug, locked your ankles about his hips so you could more properly increase that friction by fucking him back, grinding in place, he feared he might fairly make an irreparable, unforgivable mistake.
And when the whites of your eyes appeared again—eyelids fluttering open while your lips were glossed with his spit and a lazy smile—and said what you said next, he sensed that his fate was sealed. The old man was fucked.
“Cum inside me, daddy. Please.”
Joel couldn’t have stopped himself if he tried. He shuddered, then flooded your insides with rope after rope after rope of his spend, burying his face in your neck and taking your hips in his hands like a looser grip might lose you to him forever. He fucked his cum deep, deeper, darlin’ don’t move, can’t lose a drop, baby, please, he let out a whimper that made your walls pulse again. You felt him fill you to the brim and keep rutting his hips. Your body and his were shaking by the last of it.
And when he was finished, Joel dropped a kiss along your limp, glistening lips. He slid you back on the metal. By the expression on his face, it was plain to see he was loath to withdraw, but he had to. That tender little hiss and the sounds of your shared fluids trickling out were all the impetus he needed to act quick. As soon as he’d pulled out, Joel was back leaning against the washing machine—tilting your hips back a little, then lowering his sweaty, handsome head to the spot between your legs.
The wrinkles to the sides of his eyes grew more pronounced when he smiled. A happy grin, plastered across his lips, would have struck you as almost smug, were it not for the look of sheer adulation that followed it.
Joel was enthralled, watching his cum leak out of you. He kissed your thighs, flickered his gaze to your own, briefly, then damn near sank his nose inside the place he was watching before your fingers stopped him cold.
It was your body, after all. He had already had his fill.
Hardly knowing what came over you in that moment, you sank two fingers inside your wet, drooling hole and watched the eyes of the man beneath you go wide. He soaked in that sight completely: you pushing his cum back in, drawing it out, using the viscous white liquid as a lubricant of sorts before releasing a pleased little sigh.
Joel closed his mouth reluctantly. It took him more than a second to tear his eyes from that place, but when he did, the motions were quick to grow assured, by turns.
As if remembering something.
In a second, the innocent smile you’d seen before was being infiltrated, slowly, by a look you couldn’t place. Joel’s grin morphed from gentle to contented to plainly enthused and beaming ear-to-ear with a conceited glint. With his finger, he tugged your panties back into place.
“Baby—” he started, only to be cut off lightning-quick.
“What? What is it?”
His smile stretched even wider. By that act alone, you were half-tempted to forget the events of the last hour and set your jaw in a scowl. You looked down, unamused.
“What?”
“It’s just…” The man trailed off, and as he did, his gaze descended with it—straight down to your bare pantyline.
You cast a look there too—“What the fuck is it, Joel?!”
At that, two brown eyes flitted back up to you.
“I thought I asked for neon pink underwear, baby.”
Your breaths slowed. His gaze didn’t waver. Your heart came to a standstill in your chest, and you were amazed you had even half your present willpower then to speak.
“Wait, Joel, wh—”
“Shame you couldn’t get around to filmin’ today. Had me hard as a fuckin’ rock with all that milk and honey stuff.”
You nearly choked on your spit. Joel kept grinning.
“You’re—”
The guy. That fucking subscriber. The one who’d paid almost $500 in commissions in the last month alone.
You stared at Joel with eyes as wide as saucers, and were about to press on, when you heard the front door to the house shriek back on its hinges. Two sets of footsteps followed it, and their entry inside was loud.
Immediately, Joel rose to his feet. It seemed that grin wasn’t meant to stay long on his lips, because the next thing you knew, he was dropping a kiss somewhere soft and sweaty on your face and flipping your skirt back into place, holding his index up to his lips and stepping away. Your mouth twisted into a frown but stayed zipped out of sheer necessity. Seeing this, and likely unable to help himself, your gross, depraved, grinning old man leaned back in and planted his hands on either side of your hips on the washing machine. His nose nudged into your own.
“Between us—” he began, slowly.
“Get fucked,” you finished for him.
Joel nodded his assent, smirk faint. He cast a look over his shoulder, and, hearing what sounded like your mother’s footsteps drawing closer, lowered his voice.
Rubbing his thumb under your chin, making you tip your head back to meet his for one final look—then a kiss:
“You keep my secret, I keep yours, alright?”
Note: I’ve never done a real writing challenge before, but hopefully this fic will work for #hotdilfsummerchallenge !!! @hellishjoel this is such a fun ass idea & i hope you enjoy❣️
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