Disclaimer : Stepcest , exhibitionism and Implication of brainwashing. Also reader calls Douma “Daddy”
~~~~~
You remembered like it was yesterday.
Both you and your mother were grieving over the loss of your father, the pain unbearable. It felt like you couldn’t breathe, like your chest was ripped open for the crows to feast on. Both of you were looking for something, anything, to help and navigate this difficult time in your life when a friend of your mothers told you about a certain man.
“He can do anything.” She told your mother, a dazed look in her eyes, “and he can bring you peace.”
So the two of you went to this man. This miracle. The one who could heal your wounds and guide you through life. You had your hesitations, of course, suggesting to your mother that it would be best to stay away but she was so insistent, unable to deal with the loss of her lover, that you gave in to her pleas. She would have gone regardless, better you were with her.
And then you met Douma. The most beautiful man you’d ever seen and within a second, you understood.
His tall stature, toned body underneath his clothes, his silky whitish-blonde hair and those eyes. Oh, those eyes. Multicoloured, ever changing and bright like a pair of diamonds. Within those moments, both of you understood. You needed to dedicate your life to him. You’d try to see him every day, even get a job managing his shrine. You’d talk to him when you could, often catching him outside his room and he’d chat with you, making your day so much better.
Which was why it hurt so much more when he announced that he was marrying your mother.
She was ecstatic, of course, a dedicated member of his cult and the fact that he chose her was a blessing. A true blessing. Of course, for you, it was a curse. Your usual bright days got so dull, colors turned into black and whites as you pretended to be happy for them. You couldn’t understand why Lord Douma chose your mother- why not choose you instead? But you couldn’t bring yourself to say anything. Atleast, until he forced it out of you.
“You haven’t been coming to see me, lately.” Douma said, making you gulp as he cornered you in the hallway, “I’m hurt. Do I not interest you anymore?”
“L-Lord Douma-“
“Shouldn’t you call me father?” he asked, gripping your chin gently, “We’re going to be family, right?”
Your expression dropped and he understood.
“Ah, so that’s why.” He said, “Do you not want me as a stepfather?”
“I-“ You gulped, deciding to come out and say, “I w-would have preferred it if you were my h-husband instead… but you love my mother so-”
“Who said that?”
“Huh?”
“Who said I love her?” Douma asked, tilting his head in confusion, “This is a marriage of convenience, nothing more. Your family has a lot of money that I can use, little dove. That’s all it is.”
“That’s-" you hesitated, trying to process the information. So…he was just using your mother…for money…you had to tell her- get her out of this engagement-
“Question is,” Douma said, a hand running up your arm and his touch making your body shiver, “Are you going to tell her or not? If you do, I’d have to banish the both of you from here. But if you keep it a secret…” his hand found its way to your hip, pulling you close to him, his body pressed flush against yours, “I’ll fuck you right here and now.”
There was only one option you could choose.
~~~~~
Douma had everyone in his palm, no one daring to disobey him and willing to put their lives on the line for him which was how his wife was blind to his affair with his stepdaughter even after all this time.
The night of his wedding, Douma sneaked out of his marital bed, leaving his new wife behind to go be with his plaything. He adored you. He loved your looks, how devoted you were to him, how innocent yet naughty you were- everything. And he wasn’t going to hide it.
People were dumb enough to fall for his schemes but not stupid enough to not realise when to keep their mouths closed.
Which was why, even when he touched you while a follower was talking to him, they didn’t say a word. Even if they knew it was wrong, they kept silent. Even as they watched a stepfather make love to his stepdaughter, they dared not let Douma’s wife know.
“Mmm-haa-“ you whined as Douma pet your pussy, his long, delicious fingers running up and down your slick slit, your audience long forgotten. You’d gotten used to this- being touched and fucked whenever he wanted, having you ready and eager for him. His fingers suddenly dipped inside you, making you cry out as he slowly started thrusting in and out, a second finger soon joining as well.
The man gulped, trying his best to keep his eyes on the floor, more out of fear than respect.
“So, you’re having problems with your marriage.” Douma said, his voice crystal clear despite all the…well…
“Y-Yes, Lord Douma.” The man replied, looking up at him only to look down again immediately, unable to help the blood rushing to his cheeks, “It’s becoming quite the issue.”
“Hmmm. So why is your wife mad at you?” Douma asked, curiously.
“I- I’m not sure.” Came the response, “Whenever I try to t-talk to her, she just snaps at me.”
“I see.” Douma said, only half paying attention, “What do you think the problem must be, cutie?”
You perked up, a confused look on your face as Douma’s fingers stopped inside you, making you whine in frustration. The man simply laughed at your adorable face, patting your cheek with his other hand. He had you on his lap, your kimono almost completely off, your pretty breasts bare for him to tease and your pussy dripping down his fingers.
“What?” you asked, not even paying attention to what was going on. You turned your head to look at the man in the room, giving him a glare as he was the reason your stepfather had stopped moving his fingers. The man seemed embarrassed, unable to look at you as he stared at the ground.
“Now, now.” Douma said, clicking his tongue as he pulled his fingers out just to slap your cunt, making you yelp, “Mind your manners.”
“I-I’m sorry daddy.” You whined, biting your thumb as he gave your pussy more pats, “What did he ask?”
“He’s having marriage problems.”
“Mmmm-“ you pondered, trying to come up with the quickest solution, “Maybe he’s not good in bed.”
Douma laughed while the man barked in offense, his ears turning red, his silence a form of confession. “You think so?” Douma asked, running his pretty fingers up and down your cunt, leaning forward a bit to place a sweet kiss to your tits, “Then maybe we need to give him a lesson, hmm?”
“Y-Yes Daddy, please!” you begged, cupping his face and looking him in his stunning eyes, hoping he could see the desperation in them, “Please fuck me!”
“Good girl, using your words.” Douma praised, making you shiver and your pussy gush, “But I don’t think I’m done playing with you yet~”
You gasped as he started moving his fingers in you again, the nasty sound of his long digits digging into your cunt and curling just right had you biting your lower lip. He gave your nipple a few kitten licks, enjoying your reaction before he turned back to the man in the room.
“Come back at the end of the day.” He said, an arm around you as you leaned into him, bucking your hips against his fingers, “And I’ll teach you how you can please your wife.”
“A-As you wish my lord.”
“Let in the next person. Oh, and remember, not a word.”
“U-understood Lord Douma.”
With a bow, the man scurried out of the room, his erection poorly hidden under his Yukata. Douma didn’t care. He always thought he wouldn’t understand the human nature of possessiveness, but it was only after meeting you that he was starting to get it. He didn’t care if people watched and were turned on by you but he drew the line at anyone but him touching you. Luckily, you didn’t want anyone but Douma.
“M-My lord.” The next person sputtered, her face turning a bright shade of red as she closed the door behind her, her desire to pray to Douma more important than her embarrassment of seeing him with his step daughter, “I- I have a question-“
“Ah! Yes daddy!” you screamed, cutting her off as you tossed your head back, Douma milking your g-spot. But, deciding to tease you a bit, the man stopped once more, taking his fingers out. You whined in protest, eyes wide as you tried to press against him but he suddenly grabbed you by the hips and pushed you off of him, forcing your body to collide against the soft cushion of his loveseat.
“I have a supporter here, baby.” He said, smirking at your offended face, your kimono rucked over your ass and giving him a lovely view of your twitching cunt and pink asshole, “Don’t be naughty. Stay quiet and wait for me to finish.”
“But daddy!” You whined, lying on your back before spreading your legs, a hand coming up to thumb at your pussy lips before spreading them apart, showing off every nook and cranny of your cunt to him, “I was so close!”
“I don’t care.” Douma said, attention back on his subject whose whole face was red with shame over seeing you be so disgraceful, “And don’t you dare touch yourself. That’s an order.”
You whined, pouting and flailing your legs like a brat, annoyed as you both knew you’d never disobey an order. Your stepfather seemed to have some kindness towards you as he grabbed your ankle and pulled you close to him before placing your legs on his lap. His hand went between you legs and you giggled happily as he started petting your pussy like he was stroking a cat. You spread your legs once more, giving him more room as he stroked you gently. It wasn’t enough to really make you feel good but it was better than nothing.
It was quite the sight, seeing Douma mindlessly stroke your pussy as his attention was on his supporters, his dick straining in his pants. Occasionally he’d put some force in, swiping his fingers over your clit so fast and suddenly it made you squeal before he went back to gentle strokes taking away your pleasure. He was such a meany but you loved it. You couldn’t be happier to be his stepdaughter.
“Daddy-“ you panted as the woman left the room, leaving the door open for the next person to come in, “Can I cum? Please let me cum?”
“Are you close?” Douma asked, rubbing your clit in circles. “Mmhmm!” you whined with a nod, your cheeks red and your thighs trembling with want, “Please Daddy?”
“Get on Daddy’s cock, pretty.”
You gasped happily as you scrambled back onto his lap, fingers digging at his pants greedily before you pulled his cock out. You sighed as you grabbed a hold of his hot, thick heavy cock. Just like the rest of him, your stepdads cock was pure perfection. The first time he took you, you were scared that it wouldn’t fit but the more and more he fucked you, you learned to worship his beastly member.
“Ride me baby, that’s it. Ohh~ Good girl~”
You mewled happily as you started sinking down on his cock, your pussy splitting apart as you sank down inch by inch, his dick filling you up deliciously. You sank down to the bottom just as the third person walked in, another woman who gasped loudly before she slapped a hand over her mouth, minding her manners. She should be used to it at this point.
“Tell me, what ails you?” Douma asked his subject as she sat down, just as embarrassed as the rest of them, trying her best to not look at Douma’s balls pressed against your cunt. She started to speak and you were starting to move, but you gawked when Douma grabbed your hips and kept you in place, not allowing you to move an inch. The look in his eyes told you that you were to stay still, demanding that you cockwarm him as he spoke to the other woman.
It was pure hell being edged like this. He started touching you from the moment you woke up, the man sneaking into your room after laying with your mother and still, he hadn’t let you cum. Now, his perfect cock was balls deep inside you and still, he wasn’t going to let you cum. He was strict with you, making sure you stayed still even as he tickled your clit or slid a pinkie into your asshole.
And the woman left. Another man came in. After he left, another man came in. And after him, another woman.
Douma continued to talk to these people as he toyed with you, never allowing you to sink into that pleasure completely. He’d occasionally start fucking you, balls slapping against your skin as you rode him but just as you were about to cum, he’d stop.
He’s push you off his cock before making you take it in your mouth, the sound of you gagging acting as background noise as he listened to his followers’ problems. He’d touch you, finger your cunt, suckle your breasts, taste your pussy- but over and over again, he’d stop right before you came.
Until finally, finally- when that first man came back just as Lord Douma had told him too, he decided to give you mercy.
“See how pathetic she looks?” Douma asked as he fucked you, smirking at your slutty screams. You were on your hands and knees, your stepfather switching positions to take you doggy and it was wonderful. Both of you were facing the supporter and you could see his conflicted expression. Your tits swung back and forth each time Douma thrust into you, his hips slapping against yours deliciously as he pounded you.
“Edge your wife and – fuck yes- by the end of the day, she’ll be begging for you cock. Just like my little girl~” he raised a hand and smacked you across the ass, making you scream, “Spank her, finger her pussy, suck her tits and eat her out- tease her all day long and make her beg for it!”
“I- I understand my Lord.” The man said, eyes glued to you and your stepfather fucking like animals. He’d never do something as blasphemous as leave when he got to experience Lord Douma engage in this sexual activity, even if it did feel embarrassing.
“You gonna cum baby?” Douma asked you, sweat driping down his brow and your juices dripping down his balls as he pounded into you, your moans melodic.
“Yes! Yes- yes- yes- please daddy!”
“Want Daddy’s cum?”
“Inside me- breed me- make me a mommy!”
“Pathetic.” He panted with a grin, giving you another spank as he felt your pussy tighten around him, milking his dick with your perfect and hot walls, practically begging him for his seed.
And he’d give it to you but only after he got you to squirt around his cock.
contains♪ : scaramouche, alhaitham x afab!reader, stepcest, stepbrother, stepfather, breeding kink, rough sex, unprotected sex, reader wears a skirt, GN!reader, no pronouns for reader, squirting, pussy spanking, ass spanking(once), clit rubbing, degradation, name calling; whore, slut. Petnames; Darling, Baby, grammar mistakes.
notes♪ : 'm love icky boys, so be warned!! and part will be Dottore, Zhongli !! ꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖ ♪ !! If there are any grammar mistakes, tell me!!
SCARAMOUCHE
You turn your head sideways, your eyes meet up to see his, your stepbrother's eyes. He has a smirk on his face, his teeth showing. His hand was gripping at your leg, going up to your thigh as he slips his pants into your skirt, his hand rests on your cunt through your panties. You gulp and sweat goes down your face, his hand slowly rubbing up and down your cunt. Your pussy begins to get wet, a shiver of satisfaction goes down your spinal cord. He looks at you and you know what to do afterwards this dinner is over.
The bed is creaking, the headboard hitting the wall. Your mouth is wide open and drool hits your pillow, your mind feels hazy and he grabs your face. Your hands grip at pillow, his dick hitting spots in your cunt, he groans and closes his eyes. Gritting his teeth and the squeezing of your cunt doesn't help, your cunt feels so good around his dick. His face flushes red, his hair sweating to his forehead as sweat covers his body, his hands shakily grip at your hips, pounding fast and hard at you. "Fuck– your slutty cunt feels so 'm good around 'm!" He mutters, a ring of white liquid surrounds his cock. Your eyes are completely rolled back, your hair is sticking to your sweaty body. You can taste your own drool going back to your mouth as you can feel his dick ramming inside of you, your sight is hazy and blurry. You can smell sex, sweaty bodies and you can hear you and scara moaning, the springs of the bed speaking and the headboard hitting the wall in loud thumps. You don't know how long you guys been going, but your cunt still clenches for more. Your nails dig into the pillow and your cunt spasms around his cock, he bites down in his lower lip and goes faster, feeling his end and he closes his eyes, nails digging into your soft skin. "Darlin', your going to make 'm fucking fill you up again." He whispers, you moan weakly, the bed stops creaking as he stops and digs his nails dig in your skin, his palm spanks your pussy as you stiffen, your clit getting spanked adds more pleasure, you squeal and you squirt, wetting the bedsheet so much. His dick spurting out his semen, filling you up, some of his seed spills onto the cum-covered bedsheet. His hand spanks your cunt once more and his palm connects to your ass, smirking down at you. "You didn't think this was over, did you baby~?" He smirks.
ALHAITHAM
You smile at him, showing your teeth and he glanced at you, you smile nervously. Fixing yourself up, fixing your hair and getting up before making your way to him, you had always been interested in Him and him becoming your stepbrother was going to make it more easier to be near him. He looks at you and your hands begin to be sweaty, he blinks and shakes your hand, you grip at his hand. You see a glint in his eyes, your face becomes darker, a shiver of pleasure or fear goes down your spine, your legs close and you hope that what your thinking is true.
"Al-haithie!" You croak, your eyes rolling back to your head, his big dick was pounding inside your squishy, mushy wetness. The table rattles, making the legs hot and scrap the floor hard, your legs wobble as his dick makes you cock-drunk. "Isn't this what you wanted 'm to do all along! You whore, you wanted this." He whispers, holding your waist, playing with the skin as he fucks you, it makes a loud clapping sound when he thrusts back into you. Your vocal cords hurting due to screaming in pleasure, your toes curl, loud clapping and thumping is heard until he comes to a stop. His dick spurting out his semen, your cunt clenches really hard around his dick, some of his seeds slip out and go onto the floor. You can hear your heartbeat but he doesn't stop, you yelp and grip at the table. "Wha—?" You say but his hand covers your mouth as his other hand hooks you under and makes you stand as he faces your body towards the couch, his two fingers inside your mouth as he taps your tongue. Making you suck on his two digits as he begins to move once more, fucking your wet filled-cum pussy, your cunt leaking out semen your juices onto the floor, his hard dick fucks your tight cunt. Your moans are muffled as tears begin to develop in your eyes, he groans into your ear, closing his eyes as he fucks you. "Going to come for your step brother, aren't you slut?" He speaks, his face is red and his white hair clings to his forehead, your hair sticks to your sweaty body. His dick was making you crave for more even when he is still fucking your cunt, his fingers leave your mouth and lay on-top of your bud. Resting on your clit as he rubs it, adding more not the pleasure, your eyes roll back as you scream. He fucks into your cunt so hard while rubbing furiously at your clit, your vision goes blurry, your stomach feels weird as you let out a loud-moan scream, his palm rubs at your clit and pussy, your squirting, wetting the couch and the ground. "AHh!" Your moans continue as he kisses your check, his dick soon spurting out semen, filling your cunt with more gooey cream. "Don't worry, darlin'. We aren't over just yet~" he purrs.
cw. stepcest, fingering, gn reader, oral sex, almost caught, biting, stand-up sex, stepbro/step!sibling reader, stepparent/step!child, weed, touching, dubcon, kissing, lesbians(eimiko mentioned), reader’s mom is yae miko in scaramouche’s section, ass grabbing, spanking, Dom!reader in Kabukimono section, shoe humping, mention of breeding in Zhongli's section, bong, grammar mistakes(?)
notes: Hehehe, some stepcest since it won the post :33 also I hope u enjoy this, I had fun and this probably had grammar mistakes so sorry about that ;3
SCARAMOUCHE
You let out a gasp as you felt him bend you over, you let out another gasp when you feel his hand rub your ass. He laughs into your ear, you whimper as your sight goes hazier, you can see your stepmother as she walks by. You rest your head on the counter, you cover your mouth with your hand as you hope that she doesn't hear you whimpering. he grabs your chin, you close your eyes and makes you face him. He presses his lips against your soft pretty ones, his hand goes down to your crotch. He rubs your clothed sex, he slips his tongue into your mouth, twirling your tongues together. His hand pulls down your pants until it reveals your underwear, you gasp when his finger touches your hole. You try to push him away as you hear footsteps, he chuckles as he grabs your ass. She stops as she calls out to your mom, she then turns around and walks away. “let's have a quick fuck, M’kay?” He pushes you into the counter, pulling down your underwear and he spanks your ass before he rubs his dick at your hole. He could use his pre-cum as a lube and yours, he collects your pre-cum as he rubs it onto his cock. He spreads your hole open as he enters you, he roughly thrusts into you, he wraps his arms around your waist as he lifts you up. You're standing on your tiptoes as he rams into you, your eyes roll back as he goes fast. Making clapping sounds, your tongue rolls out, you grip onto his arms. You clench around him, his dick twitches in you, you bite your lower lip. You moan when you feel his cum filling your hole up, painting your walls white.
ZHONGLI
You let out a muffled moan, tears swallow up, he smiles when he sees your teary face. His hands run in your hair, slightly gripping on it. He coos at you, praising you on how you're a good cock sucker just for him, he loves how you suck him off much more than your parent that's for sure. He loves how you moan on his dick, knowing that he is the only one who can do this to you and he will make sure that he is the only one. He grips a patch of your hair, he moves your head up and down, you moan when you can taste his pre-cum, it tastes so good you can't help but envy your parent. I mean not any more since you're sucking him off now, you stroke the rest of his dick, you can feel veins on it. You can feel his veins on your tongue as well, you moan at how big it is, you go lower onto his dick. Your nose touches his skin and your hands rub at his wrist. He lets out a small chuckle, you're so needy for his big cock. You reach down to your sex, he shakes his head and grabs your wrists. He lifts you up and places your sex on his shoe, you look up at him. He smirks and wipes your tears away, you grip on his thigh as you begin humping, you let out more moans, humping his shoe more. You feel your sex get wet and more wet, you knew this was wrong to be sucling your stepdad's dick but gosh,.. was it big and you wanted to stick in your hole and make him breed your hole. Abuse your hole, remaking your hole to his dick shape! not gonna lie, you want him to fuck you infront of your parent, but you know that he probably will end up in jail for incestuous actions or something in that area, you gag when he presses your head down, he moves his foot, your eyes roll back and you go limp, your body leaning against him. You feel your climax, and your eyes widen, your mouth feels full and you swallow his seed. He smiles at you, telling you how good you did. He kisses your forehead before he lifts you up and makes you sit down on his lap. He touches your inner thighs, you smile and hope that he finally decides to enter your hole.
KAZUHA
You whine, feeling his hand touch your sex. Your eyes hurt and you galore at him. You can see his red eyes, hear his heavily breathing. He whispers in your ear. “Hold the lighter for me, my sweet darling~” He coos at you, you nod your head and hold the lighter. He grabs the bong and inhales it, you smile when he kisses your neck. He grabs your hip and ,over you slowly onto his leg, you whimper when you feel a spot. He kisses your neck and sukxs on it, you can feel him nibbling on your neck which then turns into a bite. You bite your lip as you feel his teeth sinking into your skin. You whine as he sukcs on the bite mark, he pushes you more down onto his leg. He smiles, his head tilting as he lays back on your bed. You whine, your head hurts slightly. Your eyes hurt and you know it's red, he presses the bong up to your lips, he smiles when he sees your pretty lips against it. It's like a kiss, both of your lips on the bong. He rubs your hip and then your legs. He kisses your back, you cough and he laughs. You can hear knocking which makes you jump, you let out a muffled moan when his finger presses hard against your hole. He pulls down his pants as he kicks it off, his mom knocks on the door. You whimper when he presses you against his tent, you whine when you feel his dick poking at your clothed hole. He talks to his mother while he pulls down your underwear, taking it off as he fingers your hole. You softly moan, you close your eyes as he pulls down his underwear, he grabs a hold of his dick and presses it into your hole. You let out a gasp as you feel his dick enter you. He continues to move you, making you go up and down on it. You let out a loud moan and his mom questions the noise, he says that you hurt your knee and in which you say that you did. She leaves and he continues to fuck your hole, while he does bong.
KABUKIMONO
He whines, whimpering at your touch. His pretty dick twitches as it leaks his sweet pre-cum. Your beloved stepson trembling under you, you smile as you sit on his legs. You adore how his dick twitches when your hand comes near, you coo at his dick. Giving a quick kiss to it, you smile when he reaches out to you, his pretty eyes as tears go down. He begs you to touch it, stroke his leaking cock or suck on it or bounce on it. He wants you to touch it with your hand or your hole so badly! His tears streaming down his face, oh how badly he wants you. His needy cock twitches once you hover yourself over it, you lick your lips as you go down on it, your hole twitching and clenching on air. You kiss his lips, your tongue slips into his mouth, your saliva enters his mouth as he moans at your taste. Your hole clenched around his pretty dick, he cums once you enter him. You snicker as you feel his seed filling you up, you laugh and kiss his face when you see him crying more! You lick up his tears and you bounce on his dick, you can see a white ring forming, you smile as you see his seed fo onto his stomach. You kiss his neck as you suck and give him hickies, you touch his chest while you scratch your nails against his chest. You smile and kiss his cheek, adoring the way he smiles weakly, he blushes and you clench hard around him, you feel yourself about to climax. You push yourself, he lets out loud lewd moans, his eyes roll backed. Argh! He's so cute and so pretty, you feel your sex twitch as you throw your head back and moan. He also moans as he cums once again, filling you up again. You smile and lift yourself up, his white sticky liquid spills out, you want to go again and make him cum over and over!
cw: stepcest/pseudocest, stepmother-son relationship, reader is occasionally addressed as mother, family/clan dynamics, motherhood, discussion and appearance of children, implied past infidelity (not between gojo and reader)
words: around 800
The birds chirped as they perched on the trees, and the flowers of the estate's luscious garden were in full bloom.
As you basked in the pleasant weather, a wave of powerful energy rippled through the air, and footsteps neared your position.
"I didn't expect you to stop by this early," you mused, turning around to face your stepson. "Hello, Satoru."
His features softened. "Hello, mother." Satoru materialized not far away from your figure. "I had some time off."
You tilted your head to one side. "Come here." Your voice was mellow as you opened your arms, inviting Satoru into your embrace. "I missed you."
Satoru closed the distance between your bodies, and you stood on your tiptoes before taking him into your arms and wrapping them around his shoulders.
"How are you doing, Satoru?" You held him to yourself, your hands caressing the back of his head. "Rumor has it that curses have doubled lately."
He splayed his hands on your back and buried his face into your neck. "These past few weeks have been exhausting, but you know I recover faster than anyone else."
You leaned back and placed one of your hands under his chin, tilting it up. "And your eyes?"
He hooked a finger into his blindfold, and it slipped at the end of his neck. His sky-blue eyes glowed, yet they were uncharacteristically bloodshot. "The strain was bad, but nothing that can't be fixed."
You studied his features before cupping his cheek and brushing your thumb under his eyes. "You'll need to fight with your blindfold on for a while, Satoru."
He circled your wrist with his hand, holding it gently. "Are you worried about me, mother?" His tone was deep and humorous. "You know I'm the strongest."
You held his gaze. "I know you are." A soft smile surfaced on your lips, and your cheeks made him think of ripe peaches. "You can't blame me for worrying, though."
Satoru pressed his lips against your wrist. "You've been doting on me ever since you married my father," he murmured as his lips grazed your skin. "To think I'm actually older than you."
You leaned forward and nuzzled his snowy-white hair. "Do you mind it, Satoru?"
His lips left your wrists, and he took your face between his hands. "No, I don't mind it." Satoru rested his forehead against yours and closed his eyes. "It doesn't change the way I feel about you."
You looked up at him through your lashes. "And how do you feel about me?"
A little chuckle left his lips. "I think you know." He wrapped his arms around your upper body, enveloping you fully. "You've known ever since the first night of your marriage to my now deceased father."
His lips found yours, and Satoru took you in an open-mouthed kiss, languidly swirling his tongue around yours as you reciprocated, noses bumping against one another.
Someone neared you both, clearing their throat before bowing. "Clan-head Gojo-sama," they called out reverently, addressing him first and then you. "Gojo-san."
Your lips separated, and you both tilted your head towards the source of the voice. Then, you spoke up. "What is it?"
The servant kept their head slightly bowed. "Your scion has finished their studies for today, Gojo-san. Shall I bring them in?"
You and Satoru exchanged a look. "Of course," you replied. "You can tell my child they can join his mom and big brother."
A third type of cursed energy wafted through the air, and your child approached the both of you. The servant bid their goodbyes, leaving the three of you alone.
Satoru grinned. "Hey there, kid." He placed a hand on your little one's head, ruffling their hair. "How did today's training go?"
Your little one huffed. "Too hard!" They rummaged through a tiny bag and pulled out some sweets. "Now I need to eat sugar or my head will keep hurting."
Satoru raised an eyebrow. "'Too hard'? What?! Kid..." he let out a dramatic sigh, ruffling your child's hair once more. "You're strong—you know you can do it."
You smiled in amusement as you looked at your child. "Remember to brush your teeth after it," you warned them gently. "And leave a little space in that belly for dinner."
Your child rolled their eyes and then popped some candies into their mouth. "By the way..." they eyed Satoru. "How do I call you now that we're alone?"
He smirked softly and swiftly scooped them up in the air, which had your child squealing before laughing.
"You're my child," Satoru told your little one as he stole one of their candies. "You can call me dad, of course." He narrowed his eyes briefly. "And once the higher-ups retire..." he paused, smirking at his own choice of words. "...you'll be free to call me dad in public too."
cw: nsfw, mild blood and bloodplay, fem dog/siren (?) hybrid! rafayel x gege! caleb x reader, stepcest/incest/pseudocest (up to you), siren hypno powers, muzzling, creampie, scissoring, oral sex, dub/noncon, trauma, angst, fluff, tiny bit of bondage, might be ooc i'm sorry, tba
a/n: a 45-days belated birthday fic for my beloved @rawrdawgging !! i hope you like it kory and sorry this took forever 🥲 #yuriloversunite (shoutout to the lovely amazing @losermuse for proofreading or else it would have been incomprehensible!!)
growing up, it had always been you and gege. everyone around you had called you 'Grammy Josephine’s strays'. an inseparable pair the other kids avoided. it was always you and the boy that always seemed to hover behind you and stood a little too close, no matter where you went.
it was a genuine surprise when you finally managed to get him to give in and get a dog for your birthday. he had said no to hamsters, cats, and even a singular fish.
"i guess a dog isn't too bad. it can keep up with your chaos."
you blinked. stunned that he actually agreed.
"what? you're...not kidding, right?"
he raised a brow, lips tugged into his infamous smirk.
"me? kidding? never. so now where's my thank you?"
you cheered and ran up to hug him.
"just a hug? come on, pips. throw me a bone here."
maybe taking in a dog was the least of your worries when you had a dirty one already nuzzling against your neck and jaw. kissing and licking you hungrily. his hands trailed down your spine to give your ass a firm squeeze. you thought of getting a muzzle for him one of these days. the sight of him all on his knees panting and restricted, made his smugness more bearable. you walked him back towards the couch, straddling him once he sat.
"huh...someone's excited."
he remarked with that stupid smirk on his face. as if he wasn't already rock hard at the mere thought of you.
"i'm throwing you a bone, Caleb. don't make me take it back."
you huffed, rocking your hips against his tent. he gritted his teeth, stifling a groan that was already building in his throat.
"fuck...pips. you're always so mean to me..."
you rolled your eyes, moving quicker as his large warm hands found their way onto your hips, squeezing them when you ground against his clothed tip.
"mean? if i was mean- hah- i would've- hng- stopped-"
his grip faltered and he flashed you his infamous puppy eyes. the perfect amount of pathetic, wet, and needy in his purple gaze that he knows would have you relent and take pity on his sis-con soul. and it works like a charm. every single time. he's supposed to be the older one too. you continued grinding, hands squeezing his chest. you leaned down against his ear.
"stop that. i'm supposed to be annoyed."
you breathed against the shell of his ear before flicking your tongue against it and sinking your teeth into the lobe just hard enough to leave temporary marks and make his hip buck harder against you. he was as wrapped around your fingers as you were his.
__
so there he was, Caleb in all his boy next door's charming glory, in a hybrid rescue shelter. the female staff were already giggling behind clipboards and fanning themselves with flustered looks. he cranked up the brightness of his smile and walked confidently towards the nearest staff.
"excuse me, may I have one of your best hybrids to adopt?"
and the staff barely even remembered to get his id and documentation for processing.
"y-yes sir! of course!"
Caleb grinned and followed along as she lead him to the common living area for the hybrids.
"here are some of our sweetest hybrids...we have an arctic hare hybrid who is low maintenance...aside from food costs...and then there's-"
her words were already dissolving into the background as his eyes fixed on a dog girl hybrid. she had the cutest and fluffiest purple hair/fur. she was alone off to the side of the room with crayons and papers scattered in front of her. they were filled with pictures of magical lands. the immense princess vibes she held were exactly what caught his attention. the slight brattiness from the way her tail flicked when her vision glided over his form like he didn't matter at all. it reminded him of a certain someone at home. she'll fit right in.
"what breed is that pup?"
her explanation faltered and she turned to face him with a sheepish look.
"that's Rafa. she's new and to be honest...we don't really know either. poor thing came in all by herself."
Caleb began to step closer towards the pretty dog-girl, his shoes thudding against the tiles.
"sir wait! she's very...well...fussy. many potential adopters end up settling for other hybrids instead."
"what? there's no way she'll be fussy with me, she's so cute."
Caleb says confidently as he moved even closer to the dog-girl, his height looming over her smaller crouched frame. the staff could only watch on in resignation as he walked down the path so many other potential adopters have failed.
"hey there...would you wanna go home with me? there's someone who'd love to meet you-"
she sniffed him and at first her head tilted, eyes narrowing as she sniffed deeper. both Caleb and the lady staff held their breath. after a while of sniffing and building up hope for the both of them, she simply turned away and got back to drawing. Caleb blinked and his eye twitched.
"hello...i know you can talk-"
"no."
she interrupts without batting an eye or even looking at him. Caleb pursed his lips. what the hell was this bitch's problem anyway? no he had to play it cool.
"please pleaseeee come home with me!! it's for her, see?! she's so perfect incredible amazing-"
the lady staff just watched the whole thing unfold with wide eyes and her jaw unhinged. a grown adult man, 6'2, built to the heavens, groveling at the feet of the sassiest dog hybrid in the shelter. even the sleeping arctic hare hybrid had his eye cracked open to see what was going on. he was fumbling in his pocket for his wallet and he practically shoved it in the dog-girl's direction.
"see! she's literally the sweetest ever!! you'll love her! everyone does-"
the picture made the dog girl blink. something about your eyes and smile tugged at her chest. so that was the sweet smell on this oaf. the smell that she had mistaken for home.
"fine."
she says, picking at her nails and not meeting his gaze. but the way her ears twitched with interest at the top of her head gave her away. she was curious and...maybe even enthused at the prospect of going home- no. meeting the person who smelled like home. so much so that she barely noticed Caleb's scheming eyes that were already planning a get back at her for being so difficult.
__
your beloved gege came home with something that had to be wheeled in. a cloth covered box with something that was making odd breathing sounds. a pitch of whining and panting that either belonged to a huge dog or...-
"gege i asked for a puppy...that sounds so creepy..."
you say, circling the box curiously.
"pips, you asked for a dog and i literally bought you the cutest one. least you could do is give your gege a lil smooch, ya know? as thanks?"
he says with that smirk glued to his jaw. you wracked your brain for a moment, thinking about what could possibly be under the cloth cover. was it an english mastiff? honestly if it was, you'd jump gege in a heartbeat. those things grew up to be skinwalkers with how humongous and...spindly they are. you felt a shiver down your spine as you imagined a large shadowy creature staring at you from the dark as it slowly takes over your home and makes it theirs. next thing you know, it's drinking your favourite brand of coffee on your dining table, legs crossed and rent unpaid. you took a deep breath, patting your cheeks to steel your resolve.
"better not be an english mastiff..."
you murmured to yourself which earned a snicker from your beloved older brother. the urge to smack him upside the head grows and deepens with age, you grumbled internally. reaching out, your fingers traced the edge of the cloth before tugging it away. you could not have prepared yourself for what came next. it was a bitch. literally. a dog-girl in a simple white shirt, sweatpants, and a chew toy clasped right between her teeth. she was drooling a little as she sat there, a scowl on her face and a constant growling sound rumbling from her chest. she had the softest purple hair, wavy, and shiny. and her eyes were an enchanting blue and pink. she looked unreal. and also very annoyed. maybe even a little scared.
"a dog-girl?! seriously gege?! you have to be kidding me!"
you exclaimed in a mix of shock and frustration. he had one job. just one. which by the way, you didn't even entask to him, he snatched the job up himself. saying that he's the best dog picker gege in the world. you should have known. god even an english mastiff would be preferable by now- your thoughts skidded to a halt as soon as you began realising what you saw. the dog-girl tilted her head and scooted closer towards the cage door and she was...
"mhfff hff hhh"
she was trying to speak, actively biting down on the chew toy to try and get it out of her mouth. she shook her head in annoyance and tugged at the hybrid safe lock behind her head.
"ughhh seriously caleb! and you gagged her too!"
you groan before gently raising your hand and moving closer.
"hi there. i'm...so sorry for being too loud. are you alright?"
your soft tone made her scowl ease up, her pinned down ears twitching. she was still drooling and glaring daggers at Caleb who stood there with mock offense. he had gotten you the prettiest dog from the pound! so why were you so upset? you unlatched the huge cage and gently held out your hand. she sniffed it and immediately nuzzled into your hand. you rubbed her head and unlocked the muzzle.
"you smell nice. like home."
she whispers, nuzzling closer against you. her voice was as pretty as her face and her hair. even the instinct to recoil at the way a human with dog ears had practically rubbed drool on you vanished. she was really pretty and that was a privilege on its own. the soft moment was broken when Caleb cleared his throat in an attempt to join the new bond that was happening in the middle of his living room.
"she's a rescue from...a hybrid shelter. she was so stubborn and...frankly, rude, but it seems like she likes you, though."
the redirection of your attention to Caleb once again made the dog girl glare at him, letting out an agitated rumbling growl. you turned to her and stroked her ears which made her calm again.
"yeah it seems she really does. she's beautiful. never seen anything like her before. also you should move away. i don't think she likes you much."
you murmured, scratching under her chin. she seemed to preen, chest puffing at your words. the sight made you giggle. she was perfect. adorable.
"oh wow. okay. you're welcome, pips."
Caleb scoffed, folding his arms sulkily as he backed off. he watched the two of you with a mildly growing peeve. maybe it was just an introduction of a new element in his shared space with you, but something was telling him that in a while he was going to regret this generosity of his.
__
"ah fuck! what is- ugh- wrong with you-"
your cuddle nap with Rafa was rudely interrupted by gege's hooting and hollering. again. you have lost count of how many times this had happened this week alone.
"use pretty words, Rafa's just a puppy."
you murmured groggily, patting Rafa's definitely-not-a-puppy's ears and head which seemed to calm her a little bit.
"you're being unfair pips! she thrashed my entire closet and now she's literally baring her teeth at me!'
you squinted one eye open and Rafa gave you the biggest puppy eyes ever. not a tooth in sight. your heart turned to putty at the sight. she was just so so adorable. she could do no wrong in your eyes.
"no she isn't. if you stop being so loud and just behave for an hour i promise we can catch up on missed time okay? so be a good boy-"
"i'm not the dog here, pips!!"
he exclaimed, groaning in agitation as he combed his fingers through his hair in genuine exasperation. it didn't even take one week. it had been, what? 5 days? and that bitch, literally and maybe even figuratively, had taken everything from him. his living room with all her toys that you had ordered, his favourite seat which had purple fur and hair everywhere, and worst of all his precious baby sister. you. not to mention the nights where his bedtime, the most sacred and intimate and blessed time of his whole entire day, was absolutely ruined by her constant whining and scratching at the door each time the door closed or locked. Needless to say, she was now sleeping on his side of the bed and he had to sleep on the, you guessed it, the floor. he hadn't gotten a single chance to hold you in five whole days. it was five days too long. long enough to drive a loving gege insane!
and then he saw it, Rafa's triumphant smug smirk as she nuzzled against your chest. Caleb felt a chill down his spine. he had went and done it now. brought a literal demon from hell home to his beloved pips and now it was going to throw him out since he's served his purpose. he needed to return Rafa and he needed to do it now-
"then stop acting like it, gege. if you behave, we can sleep together tonight and Rafa can sleep in the spare room that we've been doing up for her okay?"
"deal! i'll be good!!"
immediately all was forgiven. life was good again. there were no demons and no evil and he swears he heard angels sing- and then Rafa began to squirm against you.
"but i don't wanna sleep alone...wanna sleep with you...please..."
Caleb's eyes twitched. this greedy fucking dog! he swallowed his annoyance and put on his irresistible puppy eyes and now you were faced with two of the most difficult to reject pleading looks from the both of them.
__
the sounds and smells from their room was making the pretty dog girl all sulky. littermates. she knew that smell so well. there was a pair of them in 'that' place. the place she was from. they were inseparable and stunk of each other all the time. she had made sure to steer as clear as possible from them and had almost let out an obvious tail wag when they were adopted together. good riddance, she had thought to herself. and yet here she was, pining for someone who was already accounted for. the sweet comforting smell of home that lingered in his musk. intertwined and embedded, begging for her to paw it up.
it should have been her. she whined as she pressed her fluffy ears harder against the door. she could hear the soft pants and stifled moans. your sweet voice that was enough to make her all giddy as she stood outside your door. she closed her eyes, whining softly as she imagined her on the bed with you, nuzzling her nose in your neck as her hands rubbed and tweaked at your chest. how soft you'd feel beneath her fingers, how taut and perfectly textured your nipples would feel in her mouth. how she'd suck and bite and scent you as hers and only hers. get rid of the stink that Caleb had left on you. be the only one you think of. the only one you'd want. if you didn't love Caleb so much, she'd have made him disappear. she hated sharing what was hers.
"gege...quit teasing...h-harder please..."
Caleb's thrusts had faltered a little upon hearing the whimpering beyond the door. that dog girl was a bitch in heat when it came to you. the smugness settled in his chest at the realisation that at the end of the day you'd always pick him. even over her, your most beloved dog-girl in the world. that heady feeling of being listened in on only made him thrust harder, making the lewd squelching sounds painfully heard to their little intruder.
"hah- as you- hah- wish, pips..."
he says through gritted teeth, the flushed curves of his freckled abs dripping with sweat and exertion as he thrusted deeper into the warm vicelike grip of your cunt. his fingers tightened around yours as he pushed your hand deeper into the mattress, teeth clenched as he continued to fill you up to the fullest. bet that pup's real bitter outside the door, was his last thought before his hips stuttered as he came inside. your legs locked around his waist, pulling him deeper against you as he pressed his hot flushed forehead against your equally heated one.
"love you, pips. you're perfect."
he whispers, kissing your nose. his fingers slowly loosened from your interlocked hands and he brushes away the stringy sweat slicked strands of hair from your forehead. it was perfect and exactly how life was meant to be. you and him together with that dog out of the picture. well at least when it mattered most.
__
you and Caleb were tangled in the sheets, skin glowing and hair mussed from sleep and faintly smelling of shampoo from the late night shower in the connecting bathroom. the morning was cozy and perfect, the kind that Caleb would dread leaving to head to work. he turned to give you a soft kiss against your temple when there was a loud ripping sound coming from outside. followed by crashes and loud clanging sounds. his lips nearly bruised from how you jolted awake, smacking your temple against his mouth.
"wha- wha?! are we getting robbed, gege? do i need to call the cops??"
you mumbled all sleepy and disoriented. would've been cute if his lips weren't throbbing. the both of you shuffled into the hallway and froze at the visceral sight that assaulted your eyes. the whole living room was a disaster zone. toys and plushies chewed through, drawings torn up, crayons and colour pencils snapped, and Rafa's favourite plate and mug (the sparkly pink coral ones) were absolutely shattered on the floor. she sat in the middle of the mess, hands bleeding and wrapped tight around herself as she rocked back and forth. her usually silky hair was all deflated and her ears were pinned down. you could hear her sniffling, pinkish ocean blue eyes glassy and red rimmed when she peeked at you from behind her arms, scowling.
on the other hand, the energy of the man next to you was beginning to tense. you could feel the air pressure increasing and the way his jaw ticked as he stared the dog-girl down. what a mess, you groaned internally. you placed a hand on gege's shoulder and the air cleared a little.
"you're gonna be late for work, gege. i'll handle this, okay?"
he sighed tiredly, running his fingers through his hair at your words.
"i'm sorry, pips. you sure you don't want your gege to take leave for this? or send her back to the pound on the way to work- ow!!"
you smacked his arm, glaring halfheartedly at him. you could hear a sulking whimper growl from behind you emanating from the curled up figure on the floor. what. a. mess.
you gently tiptoed over all the carnage and gently squatted next to her. she shifted instantly to establish as much space as she possibly could. and then you saw her hands. they were bleeding.
"Rafa...i know you're upset, sweetheart, but i need to look at your hands. they're bleeding."
she growled lowly, a rumbling sound in her chest.
"you don't have to pretend to care. just let that man send me back to the pound."
she spat, her pretty face all tight and scowling. it was heartbreaking to see her so upset.
"i promise i won't lock you out again. okay?"
you tried, gently raising your hand to stroke her head. she caved in at the smell of you, tail already wagging before she gave it permission to. her hands were bandaged and things were slightly better. except for the fact that she had decided to go on a hunger strike.
the strike went on for longer than it should. a few days. to the point where even gege was butting in and trying to get her to eat (albeit in his usual annoyed and rude tone reserved specifically for the dog-girl) only to end up with bitten flesh when he returned.
"fucking-"
"gege!"
"she bit me! god you're insufferable!"
he groaned, glaring at her before he left for work. the whole situation was unresolved still. Rafa was constantly suppressing her tail wags whenever you came near, opting for singular words or soft grunts in response and she would eat so little to the point where her body was beginning to heat up and feel feverish. you were so worried for her and her declining state.
"Rafa please, sweetheart. please eat...for me at least, hm?"
you cooed softly, trying not to let your anxiety and stress cloud her needs. you were cooling her head with damp cloth and in between, she was being fed her favourite food albeit the mashed up version. she didn't pull away anymore, settling deeper into your bed and against you. she ate and rested and even replied in more than her recent use of noncommittal sounds. gege was working a double shift today which left you alone, staying up to watch her and cater to her needs. you gently played with her ears, stroking the soft purple fur with your fingers as your eyes traced the way her chest rose and fell. the rhythm and serenity after all the days of frustration, worry, and constant anxiety created a lull in which your eyes began to close and your body dissolving into hers, forming a curled up ball of limbs.
your peaceful nap was disrupted by movement against your side, followed by an eventual weight on your belly and chest.
"you hurt me alot...reminded me of my days as a lonely stray being hurt by the bad people outside."
her voice was soft but her eyes, even through your groggy sleep laden lids, were shiny with tears and a glow that wasn't quite human or hybrid or even animal.
"i thought you were different...because you smelled like home."
she continues, sniffling and wiping at her eyes. her ears were all droopy and sad and...the mixture of everything made her words ring in your ears. enough to make you want to rip your heart out of your chest just to show her how much she meant to you. her voice was like a sad sludge that was beginning to make your brain all murky and fuzzy.
"Rafa...i'm so sorry...i...i never meant to hurt you..."
you said desperately, getting choked up as you speak. your eyes watered and the ringing in your head grew the more her eyes stayed glowing. your fingers reached for her, grasping onto wherever you could reach. you'd do anything for Rafa. anything at all. and those were the exact words that left your lips.
"please let me prove it to you! i'll do anything to fix this!"
your words made her sniffling soften and her glowing puppy eyes looked at you and she tilted her head to the side, fluffy ears tilting along.
"if you really mean it, then let me scent you."
the word scent was vague. scenting in hybrid culture was reserved for mates. you can't be her mate. it was wrong. it'd be abusing your hybrid caretaker rights over her. your rights which were to protect and care for her. but everything seemed to dissolve into that sludge in your mind. Rafa wants to scent you. rafa loves you so much that she wants to make sure you stay. make sure you were hers without a doubt.
"yes princess...you can do anything you please."
the words came out of your mouth in a singular exhale, your eyes dilating as if on command. the princess was honouring you with a scenting ritual reserved for mates. you were special. you were hers.
__
"grammy!! who is the pretty girl in the cage?"
Rafa's head lifted tentatively at the voice, her ears pressed down against her head at the approach of footsteps from someone probably not much older than her. this was a first. usually it was the heavy footsteps accompanied by that acrid nose burning chemical scent. the one that they'd poke her with to put things in her body that made her skin feel like it was containing boiling steam on the inside of her body or for them to draw blood out for their endless research into a now lost and destroyed section of a trifecta habitat that was utopian in its existence. a place where sea and mammal hybrids coexisted in a space where the green of a forest met the breeze of the ocean. they called it the in-between.
past attempts of human exploration had been met with hostility due to the intrusive nature so the site was bordered and rumours of cruel experiments and research were the only things that remained of that place. survivors were few and rare, living in constant hiding. she remembers being in water, being told not to wander too far. she was chasing a pack of pretty fishes that seemed to dance where the sun met the water's depths. she felt the pressure begin to recede the closer she swam to the surface. and then it was warm. her mother had always told her to stay away from the sun but she never told her how...beautiful and warm it was. here, she could smell and breathe in a different kind of air. the kind that was light and free. she giggled as the sun warmed her skin and dried her ears, her tail, something she remembered having, flapping in the water all excited.
and then there was a sharp prick against her arm. she yelped and looked down only to be met with something pointy with a dark bluish purple tipped plastic. she remembers that circular logo. she'd remember it forever. because that would be the last day she saw her family and friends and home. the smell beginning to fade in her memory. until the day you came to visit.
it had been a long day of tests and jabs. and when she heard your voice and footsteps, the smell hit her first. the smell of home. a soft oceanic breeze, the warm sun, the sand, the trees...she sniffed against the metal of her cage without realising. the kid outside gave her a soft pitying look.
"oh no...you're hurt. here, take my hanky. it'll help."
your tiny fingers had reached through the cage to pass it to her. the way the sterile lab lights hit your eyes, the smell, the way your lips curved into a smile. she felt...whole, if only for a moment. you were a princess. just like her. you had to be.
"hey we have to head home! stop playing with sick kids like that, pips."
a brown haired boy with plasters on his knees had called out, dragging you away towards the scientist lady the both of you called 'grammy' with a scathing glare thrown her way. and she was alone again. that hanky was...something she kept dear. she'd bite and snarl at anyone who got too close. and after years of learning the way people spoke and her set expiration date neared, she used her voice for the first time. freed herself and barely managed to escape, leaving behind only that handkerchief, worn and tattered from the years it spent with her. she cried that night and vowed to find you. her lost princess. her home.
__
Rafa was lapping at your neck, the warmth between her thighs rubbing against your lower tummy as she licked you all over. cleaning you of that disgusting littermated scent. you were hers and hers alone. you whined softly, skin leaning into her touch, warming the more she grinded her body against you. the sludge was beginning to clear away from your mind. your hands that were wrapped around her thighs reached up to your upper lip only to realise that the smell of copper was from blood.
"it's okay...it didn't hurt you...just had to make you see..."
she whispers, lapping up the blood before finally crashing her lips over yours. her fingers scrabbled against your soft home clothes, tugging it up. she held your hands to her chest, the peak of her nipples stiff from how much she's grinded it against your chest. the face she made when you gave it a testing squeeze was reverent.
"more...touch me...scent me too..."
she pants, grinding harder against your clothed cunt. you could already see her shorts darkening. the power imbalance and the wrongness blurred as the sensation of grinding against her reached a crescendo. you pulled Rafa's hips harder against you as you came, kissing her doggy ears and nipping it which made her let out a keening whine of pleasure. the clothes separating you both parted with a slick string, entirely soaked through. you could see her pretty purple hairs nesting around the soft pink of her flushed pussy. the sight was enough to make your mouth water.
"Rafa...we shouldn't do this. it's wrong."
you tried to reason even though you were already sitting up with your fingers, millimeters away from stroking over her wet shorts. she huffed and placed her hands on either side of you before kissing you hard enough to split your lips. her breath was muffled and her nose bumped against yours. your hands, despite your earlier protests found the waistband of her shorts and tugged it down. your fingers grazed over her bush, dipping deeper into the pool of stickiness in between. the gasp she let out followed by the slight shudder in her hips was enough to have you pin her down and tug off your own underwear.
the room was warm and somewhere along the way, Rafa has managed to take over, rutting her erect clit against yours as she pressed kisses and sharp nips with her canines against the insides of your thighs.
"s-so good...can't stop...rubbing against you..."
your back arched as she smushed her hips harder against yours. the softness mixed with the loud wet noises and the firmness of her big clit against your own was enough to erase the mild burn of her purple cunt hairs rubbing against your raw needy flesh. the throes of pleasure you were both in tunneled into a haze of mounting need and desperation, oblivious to how gege was standing in the room's doorway. his jaw was unhinged and he didn't know which feeling came first. the sharp betrayal of envy or the heat that licked up his nape.
"pips...?"
his voice came out as a rasp of disbelief, his eyes were dark and his chest heaved.
"g-gege- hah-"
"look at me. not him. i'm the one- hng- making you feel- hah- good..."
"Rafa...need more...ngh-"
he just stood there rooted to the spot, using what's left of his dignity and willpower to not combust in his pants from the way you were shaking your hips against the dog-girl's. the way your fingers tugged at the base of rafa's tail to urge her harder against you. the way your clit was so swollen and fat. he fumbled with his belt buckle, ignoring the annoyed look that rafa gave him before he knelt down to kiss you, one hand around his cock.
he began licking down your neck and tonguing your nipples, eyes transfixed on the way Rafa had her tail wrapped around your leg as she scissored her cunt against yours. the stimulation from your tits and pussy was enough to make you cum hard all over Rafa's purple furs, hips twitching. gege kissed away your tears.
"she's mine-"
Rafa's bark was rough but she paused when she saw the way your eyes fluttered shut as Caleb pressed his forehead against yours as he came all over the floor. the look of utter surrender and worship in his eyes at the sight of you. she knew then and there that...he understood what home was. that he was just like her. two people seeking solace in the same home. at that moment where caleb and you kissed, how happy you looked as you did it, and the soft smile you flashed her for her understanding was enough for her to relent. as long as this annoying prick made you happy, she'd recognise him too. not easily...but he was their pack now. their litter.
"hah i bet i can make her feel better than you can."
Rafa felt that soft, orgasm aided acceptance of Caleb shatter almost comically. she wanted to rip that smug look off his face with her canines. but the sight of you laughing softly at his words made her heart stutter. you were a princess even when you were absolutely undone...
but despite everything, Rafa and Caleb's spats continued even as her mouth was pressed against your pussy and Caleb's breath was halting with the way you were sucking him off.
__
"come on Rafa...you can do better than that, can't you?"
you huffed out, fingers tangled in her purple locks as you ground your pussy against her face. your eyes were fixed on Caleb's form. your big strong gege reduced to a whimpering mess with his arms tied behind his back with ribbons and a muzzle over his mouth. you tugged at Rafa's ears which made her whimper and finger herself harder. over the past few months that the three of you have settled into, you realised that sometimes, your favourite pups needed an occasional discipline session to quit driving you up the wall for attention.
today was gege's turn because he had been away for too long and he made you worry without a text just to surprise you when he came back. so there he was, forced to watch Rafa devour his favourite meal. he was struggling, face flushed and panting. his eyes were narrowed as he looked at you. all it took was one glance at his crotch to know the true extent of his suffering. a dark patch bleeding outwards on his khaki coloured slacks. sweat trickled down his nape to join the translucent white front of his tank top.
"you're too cruel, pips. you know your gege's starvin' after a long work trip."
you huffed out a moan when Rafa sucked on your clit, swirling her tongue over and around it until you saw stars and clenched around her head. she whimpered, tail wagging as she lapped up your sweet sticky juices.
"you were late. that's why she's all mine. right, cutie?'
Rafa grinned, face still wet and sticky with you. she was loving this. making it a show as she squished your cheeks to make you face her instead of your suffering gege.
"won't you reward me? for being such a good girl?"
she pouted, as she shifted to curl her arms around you from behind. her tail curled around your leg, the tip rubbing up and down your wet pussy. she kissed down your neck before turning your face to kiss you. her hands teased and plucked at your nipples as her eyes glowed. she was smirking as she watched Caleb grunt and fight against the ribbons. what was this supposed to be again? a discipline session? you could have sworn it was to discipline Rafa too but as always, the spoiled brat always got her way.
"sit, gege."
she says mockingly as she fiddled with your nipples and rubbed against your sensitive pussy harder.
"you're already lucky you get to witness cutie when she's like this."
you let out a choked gasp as she rubbed you harder with her tail, fingers tugging your nipples.
"Rafa...i m-miss him too...please..."
you whined, flashing her your very own puppy eyes. learned from the two best people in the field. Rafa clicked her tongue, huffing halfheartedly.
"fine. but only because you asked."
the moment Caleb was unbound, he was on you in seconds. he tugged at his muzzle, the metal pressing into your skin in his eagerness. Rafa reached down and parted your pussy lips open so he could see how her tail was flicking your clit. you could feel her grinding against your ass all eager and turned on from watching him suffer.
"nuh uh, no touching gege. just look and get off. that's all you get for being a bad doggy. don't you agree?"
Caleb felt his head get filled with a sludge like fog and all he could do was nod and fumble with his belt buckle. he began jerking his red raw cock with his hand, gritting his teeth as blood dripped down his nose. his pupils were blown the way an addict's would.
"don't b-be too mean to gege, Rafa... hah- you know it's better- ngh- when everyone's- hah- h-here-"
you panted out with effort, hips shaking as your orgasm approaches. she bit back a snarky remark because despite her irritation at Caleb's very existence, it was fun. she watched as you tug Caleb's head up. he was lost in reverence as he gazed up at his favourite girl and...sort of favourite third. his eyes were red rimmed and watery and the blood from his nose was leaking down the sides of his metal muzzle.
"m'sorry...i'll be good...i- ngh- i promise- hnh-"
he whimpered, hand growing frantic. his last straw was when you came all over his face, Rafa's tail soaked as she continued to rub you through your orgasm. Caleb cried out and his cock twitched as a splurt of cum shot out onto his abdomen and hands. the sight made Rafa giggle and her eyes stopped glowing. the haze of pleasure descended upon everyone and so did a fit of exhausted fucked out giggles as you all looked at one another.
Rafa settled between you and Caleb, her arms circled around you possessively, though she didn't bite Caleb for patting her head with his bloodstained fingers as the three of you settled into bed to catch your breath. you didn't smell dirty anymore and neither did he. it didn't even matter anymore that she wasn't a part of their birth litter like she had always envied. these moments sealed the fact that she was finally...home. in a pack of her very own.
PAIRING - Fushiguro Megumi x Reader
WC - 0.8k GENRE - smut
CW - implied cannibalism, implied patricide, dubcon, stepcest, nondescript
SUMMARY - ever since his father married you, megumi has been more loyal to you than anyone else. he just wants you to notice it.
KINKTOBER MASTERLIST
“What is this?” You look at your step-son skeptically. It’s not that he’s ever proved to be untrustworthy. In fact, he’s been more loyal to you than his father on multiple occasions. He’s always listened so well. But as queen, it’s your job to always be skeptical of when people present you with things. Especially when it’s unexpected.
“Open the box step-mother.” Megumi’s tone is rough, flat as he requests it. He shows no indication of any emotion except the slight irritation that seems to be continuously settled on his features.
Any normal person would be disgusted with what they find inside of the box. But you’ve long-since proven that you’re anything but ordinary. The inside of the wooden box is bloody and you smile with delight when you take in the red sight of a fresh pair of lungs and liver.
“Is this hers?” You ask excitedly, already starting your brisk pace towards the kitchen.
Megumi, like always, is one step behind you. “It’s from my father,” he replies, not fully answering your question, letting your assumptions fill in the gaps.
“I don’t understand why he-” you interrupt yourself to hand the box to a kitchen servant, “cook this now. I want it for lunch.” You shoo them off quickly, not even bothering to acknowledge their brief horrification. “I don’t understand why he doesn’t bring me things himself.” You turn and press your palms to Megumi’s cheeks. His grumpy expression seems to lift slightly whenever you do this but you never pay too much mind.
“You’re so good to me Megumi,” you whisper to him, “always do things for me without me having to ask.” You sigh and let his face go, gathering up your skirts and turning towards the halls again. “I wish your father were more like you.”
Megumi falls in step behind you again, his grumpy expression returning as he loses his contact with you again.
Megumi sits quiet as he watches you polish off your plate, your tongue flicking out to lick the remnants off of your fingers. His eyes track the moment of the wet muscle easily, craving it almost as if he needs air. He, like always, waits for you to address him first.
“I don’t understand why your father insists on missing the rewards of his work,” you huff as your knife clatters onto the empty plate. You lean your chin onto your palm and lean that against the table. A lazy way of looking at him as he sits next to your spot at the head of the table.
“My father would treat you as a fool,” he replies bitterly, taking a sip of his water. “He took your request for the girl’s lungs and liver and let her go. Intent, then, on tricking you and giving you that of a boar instead.” He scoffed, distaste written clear on his face.
“What?” You’re dumbstruck for a moment before what he’s said starts to click into place. “Megumi who-”
“I told you it was from my father.” He deadpans and you’re out of your seat and placed on the table before you can think. “You deserve better than he gave you.”
You gasp as he presses a kiss against your neck. “Megumi- wait.” But he doesn’t listen.
“You said it yourself.” His hands push up the skirts of your dress quickly, ignoring your soft pushes at his hands. “I’m good to you. I’ll do anything for you even without you asking.”
You may be the queen but his hands are pressing into your thighs with a fierceness his father has never touched you with. A raw need to possess.
Your head spins as you push at his hands, but it’s the one time he doesn’t listen to you. You’re bent over the table and his hands are pressing up the folds of your dress to expose yourself to him.
Your whined echo in the dining chamber as he gropes at your ass, hands gripping and bruising and pulling. And despite yourself you can feel the way your pussy wettens in response.
“I’d do anything for you.” Megumi whispers in your ear. His breath is heavy, hot. His voice deep in your ear. You can feel the way his fingers dip into your underwear, collecting up your slick as he groans. “I’ll serve you however you want.”
You moan as his fingers slip in easily, curving down into that spot that has you immediately seeing stars. That has you forgetting what unspeakable thing Megumi has just done for the sake of his loyalty for you.
“Me-Megumi…” you whisper in a weak protest as you can hear his buckle undoing.
“It’s okay,” he mumbled as you can feel his tip bump against your entrance. “Let me fuck you how you deserve. I’ll take care of you now.”
You want to protest more. But the way he fills you up… He’s right. He’s so much better to you than his father ever was.
Can i req stepbro scara with reader being his fuck toy and hes able to do whatever he wants with her??🥺🥺🥺👉👈
TYYY I LOVE YOU MWAH MWAH
(🌊); BEING STEPBRO'S FUCKTOY!
(💧)chara.cters; Scaramouche
(☄️) syno.psis; Being stepbrother's fucktoy and you love when he does whatever he wants with you!
(🦈)content. warning; stepcest, dubcon, afab!reader, reader uses; you/them but has female parts, reader has boobs, boob play, nipple play, doggystyle, unprotected sex, slapping, ass spanking, reader has hair
(🌀)not.es; woahhhh :0 !!! Also TYSM !!<333
"You enjoy this, don't you?" He says, smirking down at you. He lets out a short laugh, gripping your hair with a fistful of it. "You love it when your stepbrother's cock pounds your pussy, don't you?" He smirks as bliss in your ear, you nod your head. "y-yhess!" You moan out, he lets out a chuckle at your cock-drunk self. His dick was hitting that special spot in your cunt, your eyes were rolled back, mouth open as you pant like a dog in heat. He groans in your ear, he pushes you onto the bed, head into the pillow as Scara holds your bottom half up. Your ass facing him, his other hand reaches for your chest. Fondling them, rolling your nipples between his fingers, pinching as you moan at his toying. "Love your chest, baby" he whispers in your ear, you bite your lower lip. *SLAP !*
You let out a strangled gasp-moan, his palm hits your cunt, your vision goes hazy as the pleasure builds up. His dick rubs at your ass as his palm keeps on hitting your wet sloppy cunt, you let out moans. "mmh!! S-scara!~" you cried, gripping into his wrist and rubbing your pussy against his palm. "What? Can't handle it? You want my fat dick in you?" He teases you, you bite your lip and nod your head frantically. He chuckles and pushes your head into the pillow, his hand spanks your ass before he enters you once again. You hold in your breath as he spanks your butt once again. "Ah!" You let out a loud moan, scara goes in you fast. Grabbing your hips and rocking his hips faster and harder, his dick never fails to hit that spot in you. It makes you see stars as you let out moans, precious to his ears. "MMh!" Your muffled moans are heard throughout the house, well good thing your parents aren't home, if they saw you and your stepbrother engaging in sex, you would be gone! "Fuck—! My fucking archons, your such a slut for your own stepbrother's dick!" He says. "I fucking love it, your all mine, baby" he whispers in your ear, he smiles and kisses your neck. Leaving a big hickey on your neck. You can feel your climax reaching the end, his dick twitches as it lets you know as well. He grips your hips hard, pushing you onto his dick, his nails dig into your skin as your nails dig into the sheets. Your eyes roll back as his dick pumps out his seed, filling your cunt up with his white stuff.
"You're all mine, baby... I don't care if I have to kill those fuckers to keep you. I want to keep you locked up and keep you with me forever, leaving you with no choice but to be mine forever" You didn't hear his last words as your vision turns black and you let sleep take over you.
Between What Was and What Will Be // stepdad!Shanks x fem!reader
NSFW/18+ [minors DNI] // Read on AO3 // WC: 7.4k
A/N: Modern AU. Written for @killsaki's Family Ties Collab
CW: dead dove, do not eat--please heed content warnings; dark content; stepcest; age gap (reader is 26-27 and Shanks is mid-40's); minor character death (reader's mother); reader refers to Shanks as "dad," not "daddy"; themes of angst, unresolved grief, mourning, and co-dependency; alcohol; some dub-con elements; non-consensual voyeurism; masturbation (m and f); vaginal fingering; oral sex (f receiving); protected vaginal intercourse
Synopsis: Shanks was the raft that kept you afloat during your teenaged and young adult years, helping you navigate the unsteady waters of your family dynamic. When he's all you have left, changing tides push you apart and a distance grows between, until an impulsive decision to return home for a long weekend forces you to confront uncomfortable truths.
Monday, 11:24 A.M.
When are you going to come visit?
The text had been waiting there unanswered for days, sitting on your chest and slowly crushing you with every passing hour that you let it linger.
It had been nearly six months since the funeral, where you’d stood next to Shanks and held his hand while the world seemed to crumble away around you. She was your mother, but it felt like it was in name only; you were an accomplishment checked off a list of things to do by the time she turned thirty, an accessory she loved to flaunt and then tuck away until the next time she needed her ego stroked. You were fed, clothed, dropped at the bus stop every morning before she went to work and parked in front of the television at night to babysit you until bedtime; you never allowed yourself to believe you suffered any great injustices, other than the fact you felt alone and adrift while you watched her ship sail past you again and again.
She brought Shanks home when you were just fifteen, married him and moved him in less than a year later, and for the first time it felt like you’d found a piece of driftwood to keep you afloat in the choppy water. He had nothing but smiles for you every morning, only laughs and kind words at night when he’d squeeze you tightly before you headed off to bed. He was Dad, just Dad, in the early light of day when he’d kiss your forehead and hand you your backpack on the way out the door, Shanks when he dared challenge your teenage moodiness—which he rarely attempted, leaving you to have your fits until you were ready to throw your arms around him again and ask if he’d take you to the shore over the weekend so you could sit on the dock and read your textbooks in the sun while he fished.
He’d been good to you—taught you to drive, dropped you off at college, had warmth waiting for you when you’d come back for the summers, and a hug that felt like an invitation to return home when you’d have to leave again. When you’d graduated and moved for work, he almost seemed to mourn you, despite it being just an hour away by car and despite your repeated promises that you’d come home as often as you could. In contrast, your mother had only a forced smile and a flat “good luck” to offer you—you were of no use to her now that you had nothing immediate left to accomplish, nothing she could live vicariously through, and your presence felt immaterial. But not to Shanks—to him, you mattered, always.
He’d been good to you, and despite it all, it had been nearly six months since you’d seen him. And now you sit at your desk, the hum of the office washing over you, the subtle ping of another email alert making your skin crawl, and you stare at the text, thumbs hovering above the screen as the cursor blinks, trying to think of what to say. You finally manage something, something you almost regret, and send it before you can back down: How about this weekend?
The answer comes almost immediately, and it makes your heart race. Really?
Really. You want to say more, but that’s all you can muster as you start to wish you hadn’t answered at all.
Oh that’s great, honey. Let me know details when you can.
The clacking of the keyboard echoes in your ears as you type up an email to your boss, and you find yourself smiling in a way you hadn’t smiled in months.
It unnerves you to your core.
—————
Thursday, 7:18 P.M.
Shanks stands on the front porch, the late summer sun still clinging to the clouds, casting him in dusky peaches and tangerines. His white shirt is half-unbuttoned, his hands stuffed in the pockets of his cargo pants, and a smile settles on his lips when he sees you for the first time.
“Hey kiddo,” he says, a quiet uncertainty laced through each syllable. He runs a hand through his crimson hair, pieces falling softly against his jaw.
“Hey there.” Heat rises in your cheeks, nervousness pulsing in your veins, and a sudden feeling of exhaustion perches on your shoulders as you shuffle up the sidewalk.
“How was traffic?”
You shrug, and drop your duffle bag to the ground. “Didn’t take long. It’s easier once you’re out of the city.”
He hesitantly walks down the three steps from the porch to where you stand, and places his hands on your shoulders. He studies you for a moment, the corners of his mouth raising and lowering as he sees the worry settled in every soft contour of your face.
“God, it’s just so good to see you,” he says, just above a whisper. “You look good, honey.”
“So do you, Shanks.” You can’t bring yourself to call him anything other than his name; it tastes wrong the way it sits on your tongue, but dad sounds distorted to your ears these days.
The lines at the corners of his eyes crinkle as he grins, and he suddenly grabs you, holds you tight to him, like you’ll slip away if he lets you go. Your body stiffens at the sensation, and he seems to take notice, releasing you from his grasp and taking a step back. He crosses his arms over his broad chest and glances at the pavement. “Sorry, why don’t we head inside? I’m sure you’d like to sit down.”
The house has been painted—a soft sage color that contrasts with the new, mahogany-brown leather couch that sits in the center of the room. Like the chair Shanks had in the corner of the spare room that he used as an office—the one you used to sit in while you’d watch him fix his fishing lures, pretending to do your homework but instead watching his thick fingers delicately wrap string around colorful feathers, his brow furrowed, a piece of wire held between his lips.
The kitchen smells of coffee, smoky and bitter; Shanks smells of musk, and spice, and the salt of the ocean, just like always. You sit over steaming cups too hot to drink just yet, your hands wrapping around the mug you made in ceramics class, and carry on like you’d never left home, never stopped making the hour-long drive from your apartment to this house most weekends after you’d moved to the city.
It was as if that night had never happened.
You’d gotten back from the funeral, taken off those god-awful dress shoes you hated, walked barefoot into the kitchen and slumped down at the table. You and Shanks sat in the dim golden glow of the overhead lamp, each with a too-full whiskey glass in your hands with the bottle positioned between you. It was the first time you had more than a moment of quiet all day—you were raw from people hugging you, crying into your shoulder, telling you how sorry they were like they thought it would do you any good. They needed you to cry, to be upset, to show some sort of sorrow over her—but instead you smiled politely and thanked them, shook their hands and rubbed their backs, let them tell you stories about a version of your mother you never had the privilege of knowing.
“It would have been ten years,” Shanks finally sighed, tilting his cup back and forth. “Ten years next Tuesday.”
“I know.” You stuck your finger in your glass, poking at the crumbling corner of an ice cube, then raised your fingertips to your lips, licking off the liquid that clung to your skin.
He downed the rest of his drink, drops of amber landing on his tongue, and snorted a laugh. “God, she fuckin’ hated anniversaries.”
“Birthdays, too.” Most especially your birthday, an inconvenient reminder of her own mortality.
Shanks placed his hand on yours, stroked you with his calloused thumb while he stared at the tablecloth, counting fibers to avoid your gaze. His touch was tender, needy, like he was trying to extract love from you with every graze of your flesh, absorb it into his skin. He leaned closer, stopping just inches from your face with his lips parted, as if to tell you something—but words never came and instead, he exhaled softly before pressing his mouth to yours. A hand slid to the back of your neck to keep you still, as he kissed you delicately, whiskey still fresh on his lips, bitter vapors in his mouth. It was the alcohol that kept you from stopping him, you told yourself as you let him take what he needed from you—it was the alcohol, and it was because you pitied him, and it was because you were lost and grieving. You uttered not a word as he eventually pulled away, and you pushed your chair back and stood, squeezing his shoulder as you passed and headed upstairs to your old room.
As you laid in bed that night, staring at the creased and faded posters on the ceiling, you gripped the sheets and cried for the first time all day. The tears were not for her—never for her—but because you knew that moment at the table wasn’t about pity, it wasn’t about loss, it wasn't about anything in between. It was because you wanted it—you wanted him. You wanted him to comfort you, and you wanted him to love you, and the way he seemed to smell it on you made your stomach churn and acid creep up your throat. You tore yourself from the mattress and headed into the bathroom to sit on the floor of the shower and try to burn away any trace of him with the hottest water you could stand. The sound of water rushing around you, thick droplets splashing every surface, was enough to overwhelm your wandering thoughts—and enough to drown out the sound of Shanks softly knocking on your door, pleading with you to let him in while he muttered slurred apologies against the wood grain.
You quickly packed and hurried to your car while he slept passed out on the living room floor, an empty bottle tipped over nearby, and drove back to your apartment in the city to bury yourself in bed and drink until you were good and numb. The morning came far too soon, the sun urging you awake to ruminate amongst the twisted blankets and sweat-drenched sheets. You fumbled for the phone that was hidden under the crumpled linens, seeing a string of missed calls, and just one text: Please talk to me.
You fought the urge to walk out onto your balcony and chuck the phone into the street, just to watch it shatter. Instead, you paced your living room as you called that one friend—the one who was always a little too nice to you, who brought you homemade lunches and hung on your every word, who followed you like a lost dog trying to find his way home—and told him you were lonely, that you needed him. Soon, he was in your bed, soft fingers digging into your hips, even softer lips pressed to your back, telling you how beautiful you looked in the morning light. He held you afterwards as you cried into the crook of his shoulder, and he soothed you, told you the mourning would end eventually, that all would one day pass.
He knew nothing of the grief that lodged in your chest—the anguish of wanting what wasn’t yours to take.
—————
Friday, 8:01 A.M.
“You’re up early.”
Shanks grins at you from the kitchen table, a newspaper spread out in front of him, bits of string and wire and metal scattered across the sports page. A clear plastic bin of feathers sits to one side, and something in you wants to overturn them in the air, just to watch them scatter and float.
“Am I?” You shuffle past him and squeeze his shoulder on your way to the coffee-maker. “This is sleeping in for me.”
“You’re on vacation, I figured you might want to catch up on some rest.”
You shrug and lean against the counter. “I have other weekends for that.”
In truth, since you’d last been home, sleep (or a state close to it) was what consumed much of your free time. You’d put in an appearance at a brunch, or smile through another tedious first date, then return home to listen to the comforting hum of a show you’d already watched. Lying on your couch, you’d swipe through profiles that seemed to promise you more disappointing first meetings and awkward conversations over burnt coffee or overpriced drinks, until you’d lose yourself in a haze of melancholy until bedtime.
Shanks stands and sidles up to you, wrapping a strong arm around your shoulder, pulling you into the softness of his shirt. “How about I make pancakes?”
“That sounds amazing.” You lean into his chest, containing a sigh at how much you missed this feeling—of safety, and warmth, and a sweetness you could drown in.
You sit at the table and watch him move through the kitchen, listening to his stories about clients and work friends, people whose names were engraved in your mind. The kitchen soon smells of vanilla and nutmeg, and the richness of butter, and the cloying sweetness of store-brand syrup. It reminds you of mornings not long after he’d moved in; suddenly, old friends—ones who’d long drifted away from you as high-school began to wane and adulthood appeared over the horizon—wanted to come over and gawk and giggle at your handsome new step-dad, whispering to each other about how his biceps flexed under his thin white t-shirts, and his chest hair peeked out over the collar. He seemed to know how to handle their kind, and would give them a chaste wink and a smile when they’d ask to stay for breakfast after impromptu sleepovers; he’d tell bad jokes and make French toast for a table of whispering, tittering teenagers while you silently seethed at the feeling of being used.
As you watch him now, flipping pancakes onto chipped plates with a flourish, trying to find any way he could to make you laugh, you grow heated as you find yourself unable to take your eyes off him, how he’s only gotten more handsome as he’s gotten older. You admire the way the muscled plane of his back stretches the grey cotton t-shirt, how the veins and tendons of his large hands move and flex under his tanned skin, how his red hair frames his face and his wide smile still feels like it’s meant only for you.
He places a plate in front of you and kisses the crown of your head, grabbing your coffee cup to get you a refill while he hums to himself, some silly little seafaring song he claimed his father taught him. Your hands settle in your lap, and your stomach turns while you watch a pat of butter slip off the pancake onto the plate, and it starts to dissipate into the puddle of warm syrup. It wasn’t a feeling of being used that made you fume all those years ago while your friends blushed and bit their lips at Shanks while he politely indulged their affections—it was jealousy.
—————
Friday, 9:31 P.M.
“So, how’s your dad holding up?”
“Shanks is fine,” you correct her as you sigh into your wine glass. You watch your friend check her phone again—the babysitter needs to know where the fruit snacks are, she says distractedly.
“Ugh, that poor man, all alone,” she pouts as she downs the last of her chardonnay. “You let him know if he needs anything—anything at all—that I’m only a call away. Well, we’re only a call away.”
You smirk at the way she catches herself, as if one mention of Shanks and, for a moment, she hadn’t been married for the last five years. She had sniffed out that you were in town for the weekend and suggested you catch up, and the last few hours were spent sipping overpriced cheap wine and watching her nibble on a salad, nodding and smiling through polite conversation until your face starts to hurt. You finally interject, saying you need to get home and check in with work before long, and so you hug and say your goodbyes and promise to get together soon, each of you knowing full well it’s a lie.
The door is unlocked when you get back, as if he was waiting for you to come home—just like the nights you’d sneak out to see your friends and drink in the woods behind the school, and he’d leave the door cracked so your keys wouldn’t jangle and your mother wouldn’t wake. He never said a word when you’d come downstairs for school still stinking of cheap vodka, only hand you a thermos of coffee and a bottle of water, whispering after you to take a shower before class; he was your accomplice, a delinquent teenager’s dream. As time went on, you started to find it less interesting to take late-night drives with older boys and have to cram for school in the morning when you could simply come home instead, and Shanks would cook you dinner and help you study for your chemistry final while your mother left for another social gathering, leaving the two of you to your devices. Disobedience became infinitely less attractive as a means of combating the loneliness that lived within you when you could spend your time with someone who seemed to want you there.
You walk upstairs, avoiding the steps that creak, the placement of each one still burned into your synapses from innumerable nights of trying to slip in unnoticed. As you place your hand on your doorknob, you hear something, noises that are utterly unmistakable, coming from Shanks’ bedroom across the hall: quiet moans and grunts slipping out from under the door, accompanied by the slick sounds of skin on skin.
Blood drains from your limbs and you stop, holding your breath, trying not to make even the smallest sound as you approach; it’s only to make sure you’re hearing right, you tell yourself, not for any other reason. Your back is pressed to the wall beside his door, shivering gasps passing through your lips as you hear him groan again—some part of you always wondered what it would sound like, how he’d groan and growl if he had you under him. A sudden ache builds in your core despite the way your stomach flips as you stand there, listening to him pant, hearing the creaks of his bedframe and you wonder how he does it—if he bucks his hips and thrusts into his hand, or if he lavishes himself with long strokes instead—and you start to lose yourself in your vile fantasies.
It’s wrong, it’s fucking wrong, but your hand lowers to the front of your jeans, two fingers pressing the firm seam into your clit, and you stifle a whimper as you throb. And then you hear it—your name. Your name, clear as day, mixed with a long, low groan. Your fingers move faster, pressing against your heat, your knees weakening as you hear him grow louder; His breath gets harsher, your name still escaping him in between an occasional curse, his pace quickening. The bed creaks more, and Shanks lets out a long growl, followed by a strangled sigh. Your hand flies up to your mouth as your own climax takes you, and you pulse under your fingers as you try to keep yourself still and silent. The bed creaks again, and you quickly head back down the stairs, avoiding the troublesome steps you know, but suddenly discovering that a new one has developed a whiny squeak.
“Honey?” Shanks shouts from upstairs, a hint of panic in his tone. “Is that you?”
“Yeah, just got in!” you shout back as you freeze in place.
You hear rustling and heavy footfalls down the hallway; Shanks comes to stand at the top of the stairs, his face flushed and pupils still blown, perspiration glistening at his temples.
“You’re back early,” he says, crossing his arms over his chest to hide how it rises and falls with heavy breaths.
“Oh, yeah.” You slowly climb a couple more stairs, your back sliding against the wall. “Things sort of fizzled out, so I figured I’d just come home.”
“Well, ah—do you maybe want to watch some TV or something?” He swallows thickly and glances at the floor. “I could make some tea, if you want.”
“I don’t think so. I have some work I should catch up on.”
“On a Friday night?”
“Yeah, even on a Friday night.” You slip past him and can smell it on him still, desire mixed with sweat, and it makes your nerves tingle.
“Well, I’ll be up for a little while if you change your mind, sweetheart,” he says as he starts down the stairs, glancing back up at you for a moment. There was something close to guilt written in the lines around his mouth as he gave you a tight-lipped smile and nodded before heading down to the living room.
It takes everything you have not to follow him, if for no other reason than being with him in strained silence, holding your perverted secret tightly in your chest, would feel better than being alone.
—————
Saturday, 6:18 P.M.
“So, whatever happened to that guy you were seeing? The big guy, the one with the earrings?”
You shrug, swallowing the cheap chardonnay that you’d found in the back of the fridge, the ghost of your mother haunting you still. “Didn’t work out. We broke up, like, a week before I came here for—well, the last time I was here.”
“Hm. That’s too bad.” Shanks raises his eyebrows as he sips his whiskey. “He seemed nice.”
“Yeah, well, he was. But nice isn’t always everything.” You sigh and chug the rest of the wine, setting the cup on the table beside you. “Dating is fucking hard.”
He leans forwards to gesture at you with his glass, and the ice clinks as it knocks against the sides. “See, what you need to do is find yourself an older man.”
“An older man?” you grin, raising an eyebrow at the suggestion, your heart thrumming as you pondered his intent. “What, you mean like Benn? I haven’t seen him in a while, is he still single?”
“What?” Shanks looks at you aghast before he dissolves into rich and robust laughter. “No! God, no. No, I don’t mean like Benn, he’s not good enough for you.”
“Then what do you mean?”
“Just—just someone older.” He glances down at his liquor. “An older man would know how to treat you right.”
You roll your eyes at him, and feel a tightening in your chest. “Do tell.”
He leans down and grabs the bottle of alcohol that sits at his feet, pouring himself another glass. “See honey, men your age, they—well, they don’t know what they want.”
“I mean, I’d say they certainly do know what they want,” you chuckle, raising your eyebrows. “It just doesn’t seem to align with what I want most of the time.”
“And what is it that you want?” Shanks shifts in his seat, moving just a little closer to you on the couch. “You’re not interested in one-night stands?”
You swallow and clear your throat as his knee brushes yours. “Not really. I mean, I am. Sometimes.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah. Just to, you know. Chase off the lonely nights.”
“So what is it that you do want?”
“I don’t know. Something stable. Something that feels…permanent.” You fiddle with your shirtsleeve and feel heat spreading in your cheeks—perhaps the result of too many glasses of boxed wine, perhaps the result of having Shanks interrogating you, his muscular body encroaching on your space. “Not like, marriage. Not now. Maybe not ever.”
“No? Not for you?”
“I don’t think so.”
Marriage never seemed something that was meant for you, not after you watched your mother cycle through husband after husband, until she landed on Shanks. You feared you were doomed to the same fate, chasing after satisfaction and validation from people who were kind enough, handsome enough, smart enough, but never exactly what you were looking for.
You inhale deeply and glance up at Shanks. His one arm stretches over the back of the couch, fingers dangling off the cushion near your shoulder, his other hand brings his glass to his lips. He half-smiles at you, his dark eyes seeming to study your face.
“What are you staring at?” you ask, a tension starting to build within you, something twisting deep inside, coiling up like piano wire wound too tight.
He sighs and blinks slowly at you, peering at you through half-lidded eyes, while his fingers brush your upper arm. “You’re just so damned pretty, you know.”
You force a smile, waiting to hear the same words everyone always tells you, even if you can’t see it yourself when you look in the mirror. “It’s ‘cause I look like her, isn’t it?”
“No.” He raises his hand to the side of your face, stroking your cheek with the rough pad of his thumb as his eyes settle on yours, holding your gaze. “I don’t think you look like her at all.”
His words feel like an invitation you can’t bear to decline, and before you can give it any more thought, you lean forward, pressing your mouth to his, hearing him sharply inhale at your gesture. His kiss tastes like it did that night—like whiskey, and warmth, and a fraught need for love. He doesn’t stop you, only sits still for a moment as you take what you need from him, his hand still pressed gently to the side of your face.
“Fuck,” he sighs into your mouth, and his tongue slips between your lips, entwining with yours with a bittersweet fervor. His whiskey glass drops to the carpet with a thud, the ice clinking as the remaining liquid spills out. You swing your leg over his lap and straddle his hips, wrapping your arms around his shoulders; his one hand slides to the back of your neck, holding you firmly against him as he claims your mouth again and again. Soon, the filthy secret that you had tucked away in your chest starts to claw at you from the inside, even as heat floods your lower body and you feel the weight of his interest start to press up into you.
“Wait. I need to tell you something.” The words are stilted, caught in a whimper as Shanks lets go of your lips and begins to lick and suck at the sensitive skin of your neck.
“What’s that?” he murmurs against you, his hands lowering to cup the swell of your ass.
“I heard you.”
He stops for a moment and warm, harsh breaths spread across your skin. “What do you mean, kiddo?”
“Last night.” You lean back so you can look at him, shaking hands gripping his shoulders to steady yourself. “I came home early from seeing my friend, and I—I heard you. I heard you saying my name.”
A moment passes as he stares at you, his already-flushed cheeks burning hotter, his breath quickening. “And?”
“And what?”
“What did you do when you heard me?”
You swallow hard, your mouth opening and closing as you try to find the words, but nothing manifests. He already knows—he has to.
“You listened, didn’t you?” he says with a wry grin, his words beginning to slur as he nips at your jaw.
“No!” You climb off his lap and back away from the couch, crossing your arms tightly over your chest. “That’s disgusting!”
“Is it?” He stands and walks towards you slowly, stumbling a little as he reaches you. He looms over you, a lascivious grin starting to form on his lips. “You couldn’t help yourself, could you?”
“Shanks, stop it.” You can feel the heat coming off him, and you can smell the alcohol drifting in the air—if you’re tipsy, he’s intoxicated.
“What?” He leans and runs his tongue over the shell of your ear. “If I’m disgusting for thinking about you like that, aren’t you just as dirty for wanting to hear it?”
“I think you’re drunk.”
He slides a hand up the inside of your thigh and holds his palm against your heat. “And I think you’re wet.”
A shiver runs down your spine and you grip his biceps for stability, a low whine leaving your lungs as he starts to press up into you. You need this—you need him. You need the way he needs you, and how he makes it feel like you’re not broken and alone, and how he loves you like you’re all that matters to him in this world.
“Goddamit, we can’t do this.” You wrench yourself away from him and take a few steps back, feeling the tears starting to burn in the corners of your eyes. “Not again. Not like this.”
“Fuck.” He sways where he stands, his mouth hanging open as he sees you start to fold in on yourself. It’s clear he wants to pull you to him, to hold you to his chest and cradle your head while you cry, but all it will do is compound the hurt he’s already caused. “I’m so sorry, kiddo.”
“Me too.”
Without another word between you, you walk up the stairs to your room and shut yourself inside, and start to pack, readying yourself for the drive home tomorrow.
Maybe you’d say goodbye this time.
—————
Sunday, 9:34 A.M.
The clang of pots and pans had startled you awake, the smell of coffee drifting in under the door. He was trying to lure you downstairs with breakfast, something he’d do when you were particularly quarrelsome or in the midst of some silent stand-off with your mother. But it wouldn’t be enough today, and you sat on the end of your bed, drafting an email to your boss that you’d need tomorrow off; you didn’t think that you could stand having to smile to strangers on the elevator and field well-intentioned questions about your weekend without wanting to scream. You send off your message, and stiffen at the sound of a knock on your door.
“Can I come in?” Shanks mutters from the other side.
You consider saying no, if only for a moment, of waiting until he leaves so you can gather your things and sneak down the stairs to your car unnoticed. But it hurts—it hurts to imagine leaving without a goodbye, without at least one last embrace to remind you that you would never fully be alone, so long as you had him.
“Sure, yeah, come in,” you mumble, tossing your phone behind you and sitting back on the heels of your palms.
He pushes the door open, leaning against it as he forces a smile. “No breakfast today?”
“I don’t think so.”
“You shouldn’t drive home on an empty stomach.” He hesitantly approaches you, resting his hand on your shoulder. “Come down and eat something with me. I can make something else if you don’t want French toast. Or at least have some coffee.”
You close your eyes at the welcome weight of his hand, and you lean your head against his arm, soft hairs bristling against your cheek. “Maybe.”
Shanks sits beside you on the end of the bed, his hand coming to rest next to yours, almost touching but not quite.
“I’m sorry,” he says. “For everything.”
“Me too.”
“Oh sweetheart, no—you don’t need to apologize. You didn’t do anything wrong.” He envelops you in a tight embrace, pulling you against him, cradling your head to his chest until you can hear his heart racing under you. “And you never, ever did.”
The tears come quickly, leaving blooming wet spots on his shirt, and you shiver as your arms wrap around his torso. He’s everything you crave, everything you know that you deserve—yet, he’s everything you know you can’t ever claim as yours. Still, you want him anyway, even if only for right now.
“Dad, I—I need you.”
“How?” He pulls you away from his chest, grasps your face with a hand on either side and meets your gaze, holding it. “How do you need me?”
A sob hitches in your throat as you shake your head slowly, and your voice cracks as you force the words out: “Like I shouldn’t.”
“Oh, honey, don’t cry.” He drops to his knees in front of you, pressing his fingers into your cheeks while he looks you over, as if to find the source of your pain. “If you need me—then I’ll make it all better, okay?”
You nod, swallowing back a hiccup. “Okay.”
“That’s my girl.” Shanks kisses you softly, reassuringly, before he stands and pushes you back on the bed, unbuttoning your jeans and sliding them down your legs. As you reach for the waistband of your underwear, he stops you.
“Not those,” he says, returning to his knees and placing a wide hand on each of your thighs, giving them a gentle squeeze. “Not yet.”
He kisses up your inner thighs, teeth grazing you with soft nips and bites, using his tongue to soothe each mark he leaves behind. He reaches the apex of your legs and stops to breathe you in, kissing and tonguing you through the thin fabric, nosing at your clit while his breath warms your swollen pussy lips, drawing a sigh from you. Every little noise you make only seems to urge him on, and soon he has your panties pulled to the side as he noisily sucks and licks you, his wide tongue lapping at your clit, devouring you in a way that says this is like second nature to him.
“F-fuck,” you stammer as you reach down and grasp a handful of his hair, tugging it at the roots. “So good.”
Shanks only smiles against your cunt in response and a river of saliva runs down your thighs. He slides two fingers in your drenched hole, crooking them upwards to stroke that spot inside you that makes electricity run through your limbs, and every moan of pleasure that escapes you elicits one of his own in response. Soon you can barely hear yourself, words muffled like you’re underwater, as you warn him how close you are, how you’re almost there, how bad you need it; your body starts to arch off the mattress, but he grips your hip with his free hand and holds you down as your stomach tenses and your thighs shake. You cry out for him with unabashed abandon as you’re suddenly overwhelmed with uncontrollable, shuddering spasms.
“That’s my good girl,” he rasps, pulling his fingers out of you and giving your slit one last long, slow lick. “Feel a little better?”
You manage to push yourself into a sitting position and almost whimper at seeing Shanks between your legs, his face flushed, his goatee glistening with your wetness; you lean down impulsively and kiss him, tasting yourself on his lips, greedily sucking at his bottom lip before pulling away. “Dad, I—”
“Tell me what you want,” he quickly interrupts, a look of sudden desperation on his face. “I’ll give you anything, anything at all, I promise.”
And you believed him. He loved you, more than anything in this world, and the way he looked at you, you knew he would gladly give you whatever you needed if it would make you feel complete.
“I… I want you inside me.”
“Yeah?” He swallows hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing, and strokes your cheek gently with the back of his hand. “You sure?”
You nod, knowing he must be able to see the desire etched into your features, the yearning that glimmers in your eyes. “I’m sure.”
“Okay.” He stands and kisses you on the forehead, and you see the thick outline of his cock pressing against his pajama pants. “Just wait here for a minute, I’ll be right back.”
Shanks doesn’t give you enough time to reconsider and comes back quickly, a condom and a bottle of lube in his hand. You want to tell him not to use protection—that you’re on the pill and you want him to cum in you, that you want to belong to him in all ways. But you hold your tongue and hope that perhaps there will be a next time, another day you can beg him to spill himself inside you and make you feel like his and his alone.
He pulls his shirt over his head, revealing the powerful, muscled body that you had secretly tried to catch a glimpse of more times than you would ever admit. Heat rises in his cheeks and he grins as he notices the shamelessness with which you ogle him as you scoot further back on the bed; he runs his hands over his broad, hairy chest, his fingers trailing down the softness of his stomach to the waistband of his pajamas. He slowly pulls them down over his hips, down his muscular thighs, and your eyes widen at the sight of his thick, half-hard cock.
“You like what you see, honey?” he teases as he climbs onto the bed with you and kneels between your legs, softly moaning as he strokes himself hard.
“Yeah, I do,” you murmur, watching him as he carefully tears away the foil of the condom wrapper and rolls it on. He drips lube onto his sheathed cock and rubs it along the length, as if to prove how much he loves you, how much he wants to make sure he doesn’t hurt you. Shanks moves between your parted legs and cages you in on one side, his hand pressed into the mattress, the other guiding himself to your entrance.
He sinks himself into you without hesitation—he knows what you want from him, and to ask you again if you’re sure, if this is what you really want, would only keep you apart for longer, and you’d already waited long enough for this moment. He holds himself there, pushed inside you as far as your body would accept him, feeling how you stretch to accommodate his girth. You wrap your arms around his neck and nod as if to urge him on, and he slowly starts to move his hips; your eyes flutter shut at the feeling of him filling you, over and over, as he delves deeper into you with each rhythmic push.
“Oh, sweetheart, you feel so good,” Shanks groans as he leans down to kiss your neck. “You’re taking me so well.”
He rocks against you gently, almost as if to comfort you more than to fuck you, to bring you whatever relief you need to take from him. A soothing warmth spreads through your thighs as he fucks into you with a measured, insistent rhythm, and you lift your hips upwards to meet each thrust.
“I wanna cum again,” you whimper as you feel yourself pulsing and tightening around him, balancing on the edge of another climax, “with you inside me.”
“Then cum on my cock, sweetheart,” he grunts, thrusting faster as you writhe beneath him. “I want to feel you.”
You reach one hand between your bodies and quickly press your fingers down on your aching clit, feeling an almost immediate tightness building within you.
“Fuck, dad, m’so close,” you whimper as you feel yourself tensing, almost as if you’re seeking his approval.
Shanks leans down and presses his lips to your ear: “Go on—cum for me, sweet girl.”
You reach your climax with a profound shudder, and cry out as you clench around him, reveling in how he fills you with every thrust as you spasm and shake under him.
“God, I’m almost there, sweetheart,” he groans as his hips snap against you faster now, your orgasm urging him quickly to his own. “Just hold tight to me, okay?”
He fucks you with an impatient need, as if it hurts not to take you, gasping and heaving as he pulls you tightly against his chest. You sob into him, moaning his name again and again as you thrash beneath him, lifting your hips to his thrusting body. Strands of his hair brush against your face as he kisses you, hard and urgent, his goatee scratching at your skin.
“That’s it,” he pants as his muscles tense and his hips move in an erratic rhythm. “Fuck—that’s it sweetheart—gonna cum for you.”
Shanks groans long and low into the crook of your neck and his body shudders, overcome with a jarring, pulsing climax as he convulses against you. His thrusts slow and he pulls in lungfuls of air between the soft kisses that he leaves along your neck and jaw. He pushes himself up on his hands and kisses your cheek. “You okay?”
“Yeah.” You don’t think you’ve been this okay in a very, very long time. “You?”
“Yeah.” He smiles at you, that smile that grounds you and reminds you that you’re his, and slowly starts to pull out of you. “I’m gonna go clean up, I’ll be right back.”
“I’ll be right here.” You watch him as he walks into your bathroom and shuts the door behind him, and you already miss the way his cock feels, the way it made you feel whole, the way it felt like he fit perfectly in you, like you were meant to be fucked by him somehow.
He returns and joins you under the covers; you cling to him, running your fingers through his thick chest hair, some of it going grey, patches of it matted to his skin with his sweat and your tears. It’s the closest you’ve felt to something like normal, something like happy, in a long time. You want to stay here in this moment as long as you can, even though you know that it can’t last—it’s not something meant for you to have.
“You know, I’ve been thinking,” Shanks says quietly as his fingers brush your shoulder. “Maybe you could move back home.”
You chew on the side of your tongue for a moment while you force yourself to hesitate, to keep yourself from blurting out something you wouldn’t want to take back. “I mean, I can’t just break my lease.”
“Yes you can.” His hand clutches your shoulder tighter. “I’ll pay for it.”
“But it’s an hour drive to work.”
“I’ll buy you a better car.” His fingers sink into your skin deeper, almost bruising as he pulls you close. “Better yet, just find a job here. Not like you need to pay rent if you live at home.”
“I can’t,” you shake your head as you bury it against his chest, gripping a handful of hair between your fingers. You can—you could. But you shouldn’t. Not yet, not now.
“I know.” He sighs as his hold loosens, his thumb rubbing over the tender spots where he gripped you. “It’s just empty here without you.”
A soft wind shakes the tree outside your window, and a branch scrapes against the glass.
“I just…really need you, sweetheart.” His voice cracks as he speaks, the words quiet and pleading.
Your lip quivers and you choke down more tears as he says what you want to hear, what some part of you has always needed to hear. “I need you too.”
“Promise you’ll think about it? About coming back home?”
“I promise.”
And you knew you would. It would consume your thoughts, it would rule your waking hours, it would rouse you from fitful sleep every night—the notion of returning home to him, to the safety of his arms, and the whiskey-smooth sound of his voice, and the honeyed sweetness of his kisses would drive you to distraction until you gave up everything and stood on his doorstep, waiting for him to welcome you home.
Shanks pulls you closer, kisses your forehead, breathes out to breathe you in. “I love you, kiddo.”
