#stepfather au

[cadavercowboy]

In Too Deep — Part One

Pairing: Stepfather!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Bucky’s marriage is falling apart and he’s desperate for something familiar to cling to. He knows you’re the wrong thing, but you don’t exactly make it easy for him to keep his distance.

Word Count: 6.9k+

Warnings: Explicit content (18+ only). Allusions to emotional abuse. Inappropriate relationship. Implied cheating & cheating. Age difference (reader is over 18!). Brief/vague description of reader’s hair. Moral dilemma. Coercion. Daddy kink. Size kink. Innocence kink (if you squint). Mutual masturbation. Fingering. Handjob. Unprotected sex. Minor degradation. Creampie. Cum play. Cum eating.

A/N: This has been collecting dust in my docs and then this post reminded me of it so I had no choice but to finish ‘er.

Shutting the front door as gently as you can, you wince when your keys clatter loudly against the hardwood floor. You curse under your breath, though the sound of tinny voices floats towards you from the next room and you realize you don’t need to worry about the noise. Bucky is still awake, up late for what seems like the hundredth night in a row. You pick up your dropped keys and toss them on the counter as you pass by, padding quietly down the hall towards the blue glow which reflects off the walls.

You poke your head into the living room and there you find him; slumped into the couch and bathed in the light from the screen in front of him. Even from this distance you can sense the air of defeat in Bucky’s posture and the slight pouting of his full lower lip. A pang of sympathy twinges in your chest as you observe your poor stepfather. All you’ve done lately is go on dates in search of a relationship and all Bucky has done is try desperately to maintain a hold on his; neither one of you seem to be having much success.

While you’re accustomed to your mother’s mistreatment of those around her, he’d innocently and unsuspectedly married his way into what is likely to be the most toxic relationship he’ll ever be a part of. Night after night, Bucky sits there waiting for her to return from her shift at work. Whether or not he truly believes that’s where she is, you’ve yet to determine. Unbelievably — though he deserves much better — Bucky hasn’t left her. Though the man is kind and sweet and has never treated your mother with anything but love, he is too kind or perhaps too stupid and oblivious to stand up for himself.

“Late night?” 

Bucky’s rough voice draws you from your musings and you sigh airily as you step around the wall to shuffle towards the couch he sits upon. While you’d much rather head upstairs and take care of that which your date hadn't bothered to, it would be rude not to at least talk to Bucky. You throw your bag onto the unoccupied armchair, rounding the piece of furniture to join him. 

“You too,” you observe as you plop down beside him. “Can’t sleep?” 

He offers a half-smile as he leans forward and the bottle of beer he’d been nursing thunks onto the coffee table. When he turns your way, his smirk falters; his cerulean irises flicker briefly down the plunging cleavage of the skimpy shirt you’re wearing. Your lips seem a bit swollen, though he can’t be sure the light flashing across your face isn’t just playing tricks on him. Bucky shifts against the cushions and sits up a little straighter, his arm stretching along the back of the couch.

“Never can these days,” he admits, the laugh that follows is weighted with bitterness.

His tone is soft, yet ice cold. You meet his eyes and behind them simmers an ember of pain, the gaze that meets yours is that of a man lost. Maybe Bucky is aware after all. He sees the understanding in your expression and smiles sadly before his lips flatten into a gesture of acknowledgement, of knowing. As you sink into the couch, so too does your heart. You felt bad when you thought Bucky didn't know the truth, though now you feel worse knowing that he does. He turns back to the television with a sad sigh.

“How did your date go?” he queries.

It’s just like Bucky to put aside his own troubles and be curious about your life. You smile fondly as you observe him, shadows dance across his handsome features and the screen illuminates the glassy shine that coats his distant eyes. 

While not your father, he’d certainly taken well to filling the role; being supportive and loving and present in a way your own dad never could. You love Bucky like family and that only makes it more difficult to rectify the unspoken and unidentifiable feelings that simmer just under the surface. Something you’ve never once explored, but you’re almost certain Bucky has taken notice of, too. It would be too dangerous, too wrong for either of you to ever acknowledge; though it’s simultaneously impossible to ignore. Good looking and attentive as he is, any woman would be liable to fall victim to Bucky’s charm.

You continue to observe Bucky, noting the distinct heat which rises in your cheeks. You study the way his thick lashes flutter when he blinks slowly, the way his full lips glisten when he licks them, the way his Adam’s apple bobs enticingly along the thick column of his throat. Bucky turns your way and clears his throat expectantly, smiling when you chuckle guiltily and apologize.

“That bad, huh?” he jokes, referring to your lack of a response.

“No, it was…fine I guess,” you offer unconvincingly. “I don’t know. He was kind of boring, actually. There was just no spark. No fire. No passion.”

His teeth sparkle even in the dimness of the room when Bucky laughs at the dramatic way you haughtily enunciate the end of your declaration, extending your arm forlornly towards the ceiling. You laugh along with him, though the sound stops short when the warmth of his hand circles the curve of your knee where your bent leg nearly touches his thigh.

“I’m sorry, honey,” he consoles. “Plenty of fish in the sea though, right?”

“No worries,” you assure him as you flop sideways and prop your head on the back of the couch, pouting sadly. “I’ll just die a lonely and horny old spinster.”

You regret the words almost instantly, blaming your loose lips on the three drinks it had taken for you to soldier through your date. There’s no other explanation for why you would say such a thing to your stepdad. 

Although Bucky snorts in surprise at your bold statement, he cannot deny the warm knot that begins to form low in his belly. He’d known your dates weren’t going well, but the confession about your sexual frustration sends his mind reeling down a road he’s well aware he should actively avoid traveling. His smile doesn’t reach his eyes when he pats your thigh in a gesture you suppose is meant to be soothing but only makes you painfully aware of how keyed up you are tonight.

“That’s alright,” he consoles. “Some guys just suck.”

“Some women, too,” you breathe.

Your proclamation elicits a tense moment between the two of you, not a sound in the room beyond the dialogue droning from the tv and the apropos ticking of the grandfather clock in the hall. Bucky’s eyes search yours in the interim, your own mimicking the action as you look for some sort of sign or indication that his mind is careening in the same treacherous direction as yours. You’re certain yours is spinning more wildly out of control than Bucky’s ever could. 

His hand remains on your thigh, igniting an unbearable blaze of impermissible desire in your veins that makes you squirm. The only sign of life from Bucky is the gentle flexing of his strong fingers. When the silence grows suffocating, Bucky’s tongue flicks out between his lips and his eyes finally leave yours to instead journey towards your slightly parted mouth. He leans in almost imperceptibly and as he does, his palm slips higher up your thigh until his pinkie finger draws perilously close to the seam of your jeans. Your pulse thrums in your neck and between your legs and the spell is broken by your own startled gasp.

Without a word, you spring to your feet, Bucky’s hand sliding down your leg as you all but leap from his grasp. Your feet thump loudly as you flee from the room, thudding their way up the stairs. You barrel through your bedroom doorway and swing the door behind you, not bothering to make sure it shuts all the way.

You’re inside the safety of your room no more than a few seconds by the time you’ve shed your shoes, socks, and pants; tossing the garments aside while you pace at the foot of your bed and drag your fingers through your hair. Your cheeks puff and you breathe a rush of air as your palms slap against the bare skin of your thighs. 

The tight shirt you were certain would show off your body just enough to tempt your date is shed in haste as well, leaving you in only your underwear; sexy and lacy and regrettably unappreciated. In your head, you’re chiding yourself for what an insanely inappropriate notion it is to be so turned on at the touch of your own stepfather. Still, your heartbeat pounds demandingly between your thighs and your need refuses to be ignored. 

Climbing clumsily into your bed, your bare skin burns against the coolness of your mussed sheets. Your control is crumbling as you gnaw anxiously at your lower lip. There’s no point in delaying the inevitable any further so you delve a hand beneath the elastic of your panties and sigh contentedly at the immediate relief of your warm fingers. Already surprisingly wet, your fingertips slip easily along your slick and puffy lips.

“You left your—”

Bucky’s presence is preceded neither by a knock nor an announcement; he simply eases the door open, his shocked face disrupting the shadows in the doorway. Your bag tumbles from his hand and thuds dully against the carpeted floor of your bedroom, Bucky’s jaw falling with it. His eyes burn hot and dilate without delay, nostrils flaring as he tips back on his heels; knocked off balance by the depravity of what he’s accidentally happened upon. He knows he should say something, anything; he should apologize, most certainly. But his lips won’t move. His lungs won’t inflate. His throat won’t dare release the words he knows should come.

You scramble frantically, grabbing the small decorative pillow you’d crushed beneath your shoulder blade and pointlessly use the satin square to maintain even a bit of modesty. Speech evades you as well and you’re left staring dumbly at your unmoving stepfather, eyes wide and doe-like in a way that is making this situation much, much worse for him.

Bucky’s lungs finally release the imprisoned oxygen trapped among his ribs and he nearly chokes as he swallows shakily. He tells himself to look away, but his eyes refuse to obey. How could they when they are so graciously being given the privilege of caressing such excess of your beautiful skin; the perfection of your bra-clad breasts swaying with each rise and fall of your chest, the slope of your waist and hips beckoning him to traverse the ethereal lines of your body, the nervous shifting of your shapely legs as you shrink behind your pillow and prudishly attempt to hide yourself from him?

Every part of Bucky’s body screams at him, beseeching and begging for him to turn away; to leave you alone before he steps past a point from which he can’t truly return. Every part aside from one. He cannot ignore the rush of blood that swells his cock beneath the constricting fabric of his jeans. He should, but it is all too overwhelming. Too tempting. 

His knees threaten to buckle as he mentally pleads with his booted feet not to move from where they’ve planted themselves in your doorway. The place where the wooden floors of the hall meet the plush carpet of your room serve as an all too literal line he knows should never be crossed. Two little words is all it takes to drag him willingly across that moral divide.

“I’m sorry.”

He doesn’t know if it’s the breathy, wavering voice or the diffident way you bat your big eyes at him, but your tiny utterance draws him in like a moth to a forbidden flame; the inferno of your taboo light prepared to singe his malleable wings. Your next words further erode his dwindling ability to bite back his most loathsome desires.

“I didn’t mean for you to see that,” you murmur, eyes growing teary with apparent embarrassment at having been caught in such a vulnerable position.

Bucky wants to ask, but he knows precisely what you mean. Even if he longs to hear you say the words and admit that you had scurried away to your room to get yourself off, he will spare you the humiliation. At least for now. The quiver of your lip — chewed raw and plump with irritation — and the needy hunger which still clouds your eyes nearly crumbles Bucky to the floor; where he knows he’d find reverence at your feet, clinging to you like a man lost at sea.

His legs carry him trance-like until he stands mere inches from your bed, practically within arm’s reach of your restless and rigid frame. Bucky knows what you need — can read it boldly written in every nuanced flutter of your distraught visage — and he’s willing to dive headfirst into the illicit debauchery to provide. He only hopes you’ll fall with him.

“Can I help you out?” he prompts, knuckles popping as he curls his fists at his sides. “Let me help you, baby.”

Bucky’s own desperation is woven like an intricate tapestry within the inflection of his beseeching words, your stomach tightens at the prospect that he may be just as troubled as you are by the oppressive yearning that has been silently establishing itself between the two of you.

As if attached to a string beyond your control, your head nods disjointedly. Your heart pounds with deafening force in your ears and the rush of blood drowns out all other sound around you. Bucky exhales sharply and you worry for a moment that he’s changed his mind, that he may have come to his senses and might dare to leave you here in this wanton state. 

Much to your relief, he kicks off his boots then lifts one knee and presses it into the mattress near your shaking legs, his eyes glued to yours as he looks for any sign of distress. He finds none, instead only able to identify the blazing want that swirls in the blackened pools of your pupils as he settles in and kneels at the foot of your bed.

The warmth of a palm grasping your leg just above your calf makes you flinch and you gasp as if you’ve been burnt. Bucky is quick to hush you, holding your gaze as he gently pulls your legs up and directs your tensed body until you’re eased onto your back, your feet flat and situated between his parted thighs. Bucky’s body is considerably larger than yours, but in this position, his broad frame is even more powerful and formidable than ever. You clutch firmly to the pillow that barely covers your body, your little fingers aching from the force of your grip.

“You’re okay,” Bucky assures you, his voice dipping low and vibrating like a ricocheting shot through each of your nerve endings. “It’s just us. Let me see you, sweetheart.”

He senses your hesitation, though he can see how eager you are to please him as well. The corner of his mouth quirks knowingly and he caresses each of your knees, sliding his calloused palms over your skin in gentle circles before he scoots closer so he can reach the soft plushness of your thighs. His touch settles there for a moment, then moves inward and upward until your legs are forced to part to make room for his sizable hands. Your breath hitches as Bucky  inches closer and closer to the apex of your thighs, then changes direction until his hands find your ankles and pull your feet out to bracket either side of his own thighs.

Bucky asks again, tenderly requesting for you to open up for him. And you do; unfurling yourself like a blooming flower, your petals fragile and delicate as you reveal the softest parts of yourself to him. Uncertain what sort of grasp he has on his waning restraint, Bucky defies the ever-present voice that calls out in the back of his head and allows his eyes to fall to the space he’s opened between your legs. 

Tucked amid the velvety flesh of your thighs, he finds a light-colored portion of fabric; the gusset of your panties peeking out and undeniably damp. The thin material clings to you like a second skin and he can make out the distinct seam of your cunt through the moist spot that stains it. Bucky swears he could cum from that obscene sight alone. He stares unabashedly at your wet panties and the mere suggestion of what lies just beneath them as if it’s the last sight his eyes will ever have the honor of seeing; devouring each and every detail of the ripe fruit he longs to know the flavor of. 

Although he’s done nothing irredeemable just yet, Bucky knows what has already happened will forever change your relationship regardless. For God’s sake, he’s perched at the end of his half-naked stepdaughter’s bed like a lascivious demon of lust, claws prepared to dig deep into her as he fights the urge to drag her off to Hell with him. He gratefully consumes every bit of your nubile body that you present to him, a sacrifice on an altar which he can only hope will be enough to sate the beast inside him. Deep down, he knows it isn’t.

“Do you want to touch yourself for me?” Bucky implores, offering you the option to accept or deny his indecorous solicitation.

Without much further thought, the relentless throbbing in your core prompts you to extract one hand from the pillow still held tightly in your arms. Though the fingers of one hand still hold tight to the silky fabric, the others trail delicately across your lower belly and over your pelvis. Your touch stutters when your fingertips reach the soft cotton of your plain panties, but the flash of triumph in Bucky’s azure eyes encourages you to keep going. 

You’re unsure and arrhythmic at first contact with your sensitive folds, fingers pressing apprehensively through the thin barrier of your underwear. When Bucky’s lips part on a heated sigh and his fingers knead your thighs, you swirl your digits more confidently, breath catching in your throat as pleasure prickles under your skin. Your hips twitch upwards into your own touch and Bucky’s jaw tightens, unable to tear his eyes away from the sight of the hand between your gorgeous thighs, much as he wants to look up and see the veil of gratification he knows must grace your face.

Bucky takes all you offer with greed and haste, praying that he possesses the strength not to take more. But more is all he wants. He craves it, he needs it. Palming himself through the detestable material of his jeans, Bucky absorbs every precise flick of your wrist, his mind cataloging each little sound and simper you make beneath the ministration of your own hand. Just as he feared, it isn’t enough.

“Pull your panties to the side,” he demands, his voice sharp and commanding. “I wanna see all of you.”

You both know if you do this — if you allow yourselves to get carried away in such a manner — then there is no going back. As it stands, you can still change your minds and salvage some semblance of a normal relationship; show some discipline and save yourselves from the bitter reality of the betrayal and sin you’re so painfully close to the precipice of.

“I won’t touch you,” Bucky says, as if he senses the source of your worry and his promise might serve to assuage your fears.

And perhaps it would have if your doubts were borne from a place of morality. But they aren’t. You need him to touch you because — loathe as you are to admit the ignominious truth — you want more, too. You want anything and everything he’s willing to give you and then some. So you heed his order and curl your damp fingers around the even damper material of your panties, slowly easing them to the side to reveal your slick center to his ravenous stare. Bucky growls at the sight.

“You’re already so fuckin’ wet, baby,” he grunts, teeth clenched so hard they could crack. “Rub yourself.”

His voice takes on a tone of impatience as he squeezes the girth of his painfully swollen cock through his pants. You obey his request without hesitation this time, gently dragging your fingertips through the juices that have spilled from your core as you rub them up and down. Bucky is keenly aware of the way your fingers seem to avoid your clit. Pushing your legs wider, he settles deeper into his haunches to unlatch his belt and lower his zipper to relieve some of the steadily growing pressure. 

“Touch yourself here,” Bucky demands, one hand reaching for your wrist and drawing your hand higher. “Show me how you’d do it if I wasn’t here. Make yourself feel good.”

Admittedly, you’d been avoiding direct stimulation of the bundle of nerves. You’re terrified of losing yourself completely and falling apart beneath Bucky���s scrutinous and watchful eye. It’s obvious from the way he licks his lips and stares you down with intensity that this is exactly what he wants. Even more obvious when you do as he asks and he shoves a hand behind the open zipper of his pants, burrowing under the tight elastic of his underwear to grasp his swelling length.

You begin to wriggle as you touch yourself, your toes curling restlessly into your sheets as your fingers swirl around your sensitive clit. Bucky’s eyes are glued to the motions of your hand, entranced by the subtle sounds of your slick folds as you massage them intermittently. His heart slams against the walls of his chest, beating to the same rhythm of your frantic little breaths and feminine sighs. Your eyes had shut as you slipped into ecstasy, but they fly open when you hear the jingling of Bucky’s dangling belt.

“Gotta touch myself, baby,” he confesses as he pulls his cock free, the weight of it making it bob between his thighs as a fresh rush of blood flows through his veins. “You got me so goddamn hard.”

As he wraps a fist around the thick base of his cock and begins to stroke it firmly, Bucky can’t help the loud and raspy moan that bounces off the walls. He doesn’t miss the way your eyes light up and you lick your lips at the sight of him fondling his impressive manhood; can’t help wondering how little it would take for you to let him have you. When he shifts closer and slides between your parted thighs, he sees the flash of apprehension.

“We can touch ourselves together, right?” he states softly. “I won’t do anything to you.”

He wants to add ‘unless you want me to’, although he allows the amending words to remain unspoken. Your doleful eyes tell him everything he needs to know: you need him — are desperate for him, even — and you’re so deliciously close to breaking. Your whispered request only assures him of that.

“W-will you kiss me?” you peep nervously.

At first, Bucky isn’t sure. You’ve already come this far, but he worries making physical contact with you will rip his shaky control of this situation right out of his hands. Still, he can’t say no when you’ve asked him so sweetly in that innocent little voice of yours and he ultimately gives in. 

Leaning over you, Bucky brushes a strand of hair out of your face and tucks it behind your ear; ghosting his fingers along the edge of your jaw until his hand hovers over your mouth and his thumb hooks over your lower lip. You accept it easily, swirling your tongue and suckling gratefully at the long digit as Bucky presses it shallowly in and out of your mouth.

“Is that what you need?” Bucky breathes. “You promise you’ll keep being good for me if I kiss you?”

Nodding both dumbly and eagerly, you pout when his spit-soaked thumb slips free and leaves a trail of saliva down your chin. Though your disappointment is quickly forgotten as Bucky braces a hand on either side of your head and lowers his torso close to yours. His lips part and his warm breath washes over you as his face settles an inch from yours. 

He kisses you chastely at first. Several short and slow pecks which you gladly accept are pressed to your soft mouth and you moan against him as you continue to work your fingers over your pulsing center. When he tries to pull back, you chase his lips; your teeth nipping at the plush flesh until he ceases the retreat. Your earnestness causes Bucky to grow impossibly harder and he mashes his mouth against yours. Unsure how you pluck up the courage, you force his lips apart and plunge your tongue into his mouth the second you have the opportunity to do so. 

Bucky sinks further into the heated kiss and as he does, the leaking tip of his heavy cock brushes along your thigh, leaving a sticky trail of pre-cum in its wake. He groans brokenly into your mouth at the contact with the silky warmth of your flesh, his abs clenching as he gnashes his teeth against the unexpected stimulation. He looks down at you, nearly snapping when you peer up at him as if you’ve done something wrong.

“Is this okay?” he wonders, steadily pushing his hips forward so his dick grinds against your thigh more firmly. “Feels so fucking good, honey.”

Bucky doesn’t wait for a response or permission, rather he kisses you again and continues to use your soft skin to pleasure himself. It doesn’t matter to you, you’re more than happy to acquiesce in the interest of Bucky’s satisfaction. He assaults your mouth, leaving you panting and breathless as he shifts his hips and his cock moves lower until the crease of your thigh cradles the mass of the thick appendage. Your shocked inhale prompts him to back off only because he knows he’ll have more success if he eases you into it.

You nod your approval when Bucky asks if he can take off your panties, watching with rapt attention as he eases the dampened fabric along the curve of your legs; he lifts them and pushes your knees towards your chest to drag your underwear over your ankles and discard the crumpled material. Heat rises in your face when your legs fall open again and you’re bared entirely to Bucky. 

“Wanna see you fuck yourself with those little fingers,” he breathes, barely managing to stop himself from exploding when you nervously bite your lip and wither slightly as you divert your wide eyes. “You gettin’ shy on me, baby girl?”

“A little,” you manage to giggle. 

The urge to cover your bare body flees when Bucky swirls his thumb over the head of his cock and curses under his breath. His unflinching stare beckons you to continue obeying him and the way he looks at you as if he wants nothing more than to devour you whole is incentive enough for you to slip your fingers down low and circle your dripping entrance.

Bucky jerks himself with vigor as your delicate digits bury themselves in your pussy, pornographic sounds emanating from your center as you slowly fuck yourself. He burrows a hand under your hips and draws your body closer to his. Heat pulses off of your flesh and he angles his cock so close to your core that he swears he can feel the humidity of your pussy. As you rub yourself more frantically, your knuckles occasionally brush his swollen head, leaving behind slippery beads of pre-cum that seep between your fingers.

You’re dripping wet by now and Bucky notices the tumescence of your flooding arousal shining in the pale moonlight that splashes across your squirming body. He’s so enthralled by the beautifully naughty picture you make that he doesn’t even protest when he feels your curious fingers dancing along the firm ridge of his cockhead. Both of you are too far gone, too torqued up to consider the consequences or even the immorality of what you’re doing. 

When you gather some of your slick and smear it over the spongy tip of his dick, Bucky swears he could see sound and taste colors. His ears ring and his head swims, frozen in place by the ineffable sensation of your timid touch. A shiver wracks his body when you begin to wrap a hand around him, pushing his fist out of the way to stroke his cock for him. Your juices smooth the way and the distinct veins that decorate his length pulse angrily beneath your palm. 

Feeling bold, you lift your hips slightly upwards and swirl the turgid flesh through your folds, twitching when Bucky’s tip hits your swollen clit. The stimulation paired with your audacity to behave so rakishly pushes him uncomfortably close to a premature release, prompting him to grab your wrist and wrench your hand away from his aching erection. You whine unhappily, but he’s quick to soothe your disapproval.

“You have such a pretty pussy, baby,” he praises. “I’m just gonna rub on you like this.”

Buck demonstrates by sliding his cock through your folds, you slick coating the underside of his length and squelching audibly when he draws his hips back again. He keeps grinding himself along your needy pussy until you grow dizzy and frantic with need. The friction of his hot flesh is driving you insane and the pressure of his hardened, bulbous head rutting against your clit nearly sends you over the edge.

“Bucky, I—” you choke out, unable to voice the inconceivable appeal you want to make.

Your moaning and wriggling sets his teeth on edge and his muscles twitch with the restraint he forces himself to exert. He coos over you — smug and condescending — watching the rapturous way in which your eyes roll as you bite your lip until it bleeds. Bucky can see the words you want to spit out as if to rid your mouth of the acrid taste of them, but you fight it. He’s determined to hear you voice them.

“What is it, little one?” he whispers. “Do you want more?”

Suddenly unsure, you smile shyly and shake your head, though Bucky can still see the indecision burning in your eyes. It won’t be long before you change your mind. In fact, he intends to make certain that you do. He needs to touch you, to give you what he knows you need. He wants to make you fall apart. You’ll beg for release, from his fingers or his mouth...and he tells himself that that’s okay. That’s acceptable. He wouldn’t really be doing something wrong if he gets you off without burying himself in your young, willing body...would he?

When the blunt head of his cock catches on your neglected hole, your pussy spasms and your brain short circuits, prompting you to blurt out without thinking about or considering the impact of your words.

“Please fuck me, Daddy,” you whine, your plea shaky with unshed tears.

“Don’t,” Bucky barks instantaneously. 

His sharp tone surprises you as Bucky has never once raised his voice, let alone been stern with you. You cower beneath his unexpected firmness, your eyes growing wetter.

“We can’t do that,” he insists, his resolve even weaker than his flimsy voice. “I can’t fuck you, baby girl.”

The forlorn way you whimper immediately has him questioning his own convictions and when you reach for his cock and mash it even more firmly against your drippy cunt to force your sodden lips to separate and hug the girth of him, he’s never believed in something less. And when you wrap your fingers around the base of him to guide the shiny, reddened tip to the entrance of your pussy where you just barely breach yourself and cry out at the tight feeling, he knows then and there that he is going to fuck you.

“Is that what you really want?” he bites harshly, taking his weight on one hand so he can press the palm of the other against your throat, finger curling around your esophagus until he’s sure he has your full attention. “You need your daddy inside you, huh?”

“I…I want you,” you blubber.

The tears that finally trickle from the corners of your eyes snaps what little sanity Bucky has left, he surrenders any desire to uphold some level of propriety with you. He picks up where you left off, guiding the tip of his cock to your weeping, wanting cunt and drives his hips slightly forward. Offering only a few short and shallow strokes, Bucky fucks you with just the first inch or so of his cock; the stretch is dizzying nonetheless. 

You’re satisfied with the initial drags of his cock only for a moment before you writhe beneath him and try to take him deeper with all the subtlety of a brick. But Bucky pulls away, denying you the satisfaction of feeling more than just the tip of his fat cock. Somehow, he manages yet again to convince himself that if he doesn’t fuck you any deeper than this, he’s still done nothing wrong. If it’s just the tip, he isn’t truly fucking you; he isn’t cheating on his wife or corrupting his sweet, young stepdaughter. 

He maintains his composure for significantly longer than he thought possible before he can resist no longer. You gasp and moan in a way befitting of the filthiest of whores and your back arches when he dares to slip you another inch.

The heat of your tight cunt swallowing him up and hugging his cock snugly seeps so deep into him that he feels the warmth in his bones. You squeal loudly in surprise when Bucky lurches forward and impales you, his thickness splits you open and stretches your pussy with almost unbearable yet fulfilling pressure. He places a hand on each of your hips, stilling your fidgeting and wiggling as you endeavor to ease away from the overwhelming sensation of his cock sliding all the way to the hilt. Bucky keeps you in place, reveling in the way your slick walls ripple and squeeze as he makes sure you go nowhere.

“I’m so sorry, sweet girl,” he soothes with slight condescension, curling his body over yours to capture your lips in a fervid kiss. “You felt too good, I had to feel all of you.”

You can only whimper in response, altogether unaccustomed to feeling so full. Bucky carefully cradles your head, pressing his forehead to yours as he begins to fuck you with deep and steady strokes. His cock feels indescribable as it drives into you, coated in your slippery cream and hard as steel. With each plunge into your clenching pussy, Bucky grunts deeply in your ear. His fingers thread more tightly in your hair, harshly yanking the strands as he pumps his hips with more and more force. 

The head of his cock bumps your cervix on each downstroke and it knocks a wavering cry from your lungs with precise reliability, Bucky becoming more and more certain that you utter the pathetic noises with the intention of taunting him and egging him on. He turns his head, swallowing your salacious cries as they grow in volume. 

You’re caged in by his muscular arms as he presses your chest to his, ensuring that you take every inch he’s forcing into your pliant body. He just about loses his mind when he can feel you using your feet for leverage to drop your hips and meet his every thrust, extending his arms so he can look down and watch you greedily engulf his cock.

“Tight little cunt…feel so much better than your mother. You’re being so good for me, baby. My nasty little girl, huh?” he encourages. “Just like that, I’m so fucking close. Gonna cum on these pretty tits.”

To drive the point home, Bucky claws at the cups of your bra to release the bouncing globes. He palms the flesh, grinding his palms into your sensitive nipples and adoring the way your pussy constricts in kind. Your arms had pulled up and come to rest against your ribs and your little hands curl and unfurl atop your torso, blindly searching for something to grasp. 

Bucky snatches up the pillow you’d tossed aside earlier and presses it to your belly, encouraging you to grab hold of the plush object. You do so gratefully, fingers digging forcefully into it to hold it tight as Bucky shoves your knees towards your chest and his cock slides in and out of you with ease.

While Bucky did have every intention of pulling out and blowing his load on your breasts as promised, the feral sound that rattles deep in your throat like an animal in heat makes him rethink the option. The sight of you powerless and tiny beneath him — pathetically clutching your pillow with both your eyes and lips opened wide with ecstasy as he watches the thickness of his cock disappearing within your little pussy, spreading and stretching you out with each swivel of his hips — leaves him without much choice. 

“Don’t stop,” you beg. “Please don’t stop.”

He can’t hold back now, can’t deny either one of you the delectation of him leaving you completely full and sated. Especially not when he feels you grind your hips to sink further down onto him until the thatch of hair at the base of his cock tickles your clit and your legs pull tight around his hips.

The weight of Bucky’s body crushes the pillow between your bodies as he leans in to bite your neck, growling in response to your lamenting wail. The room is filled with the sound of raucous slapping as your skin makes sharp and consistent contact, the backs of your thighs slamming into Bucky’s hips with every violent thrust he imparts on you. You’re practically screaming by the time your orgasm overtakes you and the constriction of your pussy relentlessly gripping his cock flings Bucky over his own precipice.

“Ohhh, fuck…that’s it, honey. Just like that. Such a good fuckin’ slut,” Bucky hisses, beginning to ramble as the first spurt of cum spills, his balls pulsing with force. “Stay right there. Daddy’s gonna fill you up so good.”

You know you should refuse, push Bucky off and stop him from burying his seed in your pussy. But you cannot deny the fact that somewhere deep down, this is what you’ve wanted all along. To be his and to be marked as such. When you feel his cock jump inside you and the noticeable warmth of his cum seeps into your womb, you do exactly as he requests and you stay put as he pumps his hips shallowly and fucks his spurting cum even deeper. 

Tipping your head, you latch your teeth into the collar of Bucky’s shirt as his body spasms above you, muscles twitching and rippling with his powerful release. He pins you in place with his body, focusing his weight against your wiggling hips until he’s positive you’ve milked every last drop of cum from his slick-soaked dick. You squeak in discomfort when he presses his pelvis flush to yours, the depth of his cock making your insides ache. 

Bucky remains there — buried as deep as he can physically get — until he can catch his breath and his dick begins to soften. When he pulls out, the thick white trickle of cream begins to spill out immediately. You’re vaguely aware of the sound of a car outside and while you know you should be rushing to cover up and Bucky should be slipping away unnoticed from your bedroom, he seems to have other ideas.

Thick fingers sweep through the stickiness of Bucky’s spend, smearing it all over your puffy folds and coating your swollen clit in a layer of cum. He spends a dizzying amount of time focusing his touch on the over-stimulated bundle of nerves, only stopping when you begin to flinch and whine beneath his touch. Once you do, he chooses instead to gather the rest of what drips from your wrecked pussy on his fingers before slowly and methodically stuffing the long digits inside of you, shoving his cum back inside.

Satisfied with how his cum is now smeared over every inch of your pussy — both inside and out — Bucky brings his slippery fingers to his mouth, lewdly sucking your combined juices from his skin. He licks his lips for good measure, then hops gingerly from your bed to tug his boots back onto his feet. Bucky turns to you, proudly observing your limp, satiated body and the look on your tear-streaked face as he lovingly caresses the inside of your right thigh where some of your fluids have smeared. He fights the urge to bury his fingers knuckle-deep in your leaking pussy when he spies the cum that starts to seep out again.

“Come say goodnight to your mother,” he directs as he carefully stuffs his softened length back into his pants before looming over you to speak against your parted lips. “Be a good girl and I’ll come back later to tuck you in.”

With that, Bucky kisses you sloppily then exits your room without another word. You’re left lying there, alone and exhausted; legs shaking and your stepfather’s cum oozing from your sore pussy as you hear the distant sound of your mother’s voice downstairs.

Part Two

• Series Masterlist •

Sebastian Stan Masterlist ✦ Writing Masterpost

#i used the word cock 24 times i'm so sorry #barely edited this so i'm sorry for that too #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x reader fanfiction #bucky barnes x reader fanfic #bucky barnes x reader smut #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes #stepfather au #stepfather!bucky barnes #sebastian stan fanfiction #sebastian stan fanfic #sebastian stan smut #sebastian stan

[imsodishy]

stepfather au?

Based very loosely on The Stepfather (1987), Neil is a serial killer who's first victim was Billy's mom when he was just a baby and all his subsequent victims have been Billy's "mother"

Most of it's Steve POV but here's a kind of cold open from Billy's POV pre-Hawkins

There’s blood in the kitchen. Not a little bit. A lot. Nobody cut a finger chopping carrots here. No one’s coming home with stitches after this. A lamp is tipped in the living room, but it didn’t break. From the floor it's casting shadows the wrong way up. Billy sets the lamp to rights. “Dad?” he calls out. No answer. No one’s here. Billy goes to his room. Starts packing. The place came furnished, they always rent furnished, so it’s quick. One bag for clothes, one for everything else he wants to keep, plus his cassette case full of tapes on top. Next his parents' room. He doesn’t touch his dad’s shit. Not allowed. But Nora’s —Mom's — Nora's, stuff gets trash bagged. Two big black ones set by the front door. It’s not that much, doesn’t take long. Then bleach and scrubbing. Linoleum in the kitchen, easy clean-up. White squares with little blue flowers. Make sure to get in the seams. A third trash bag of Nora's by the door. Doesn’t tie it off, Dad will have stuff to add to that one when he gets back. Billy sits on the bed, his bags by his feet. He lets static roll over him like a wave. He thinks about the ocean. And waits for Dad to get back.

Thanks for asking 💜

#dishy answers #martyreasemymind #dishy writes #billy hargrove #neil hargrove #i'm torn on the cold open and there's a chance i'll cut it before this gets posted so have it now! #stepfather au

[writingsofwesteros]

Stepdad!Aegon making you cockwarm him at anytime possible, watching a movie (yes get a blanket and sit on his lap but make sure mother isn’t watching), whilst he marks test? (of course you don’t want daddy get stressed out by the dumb students), after school? (ofc he had to deal with all these annoying teenagers), After a fight with your mother (duh she thinks he’s doing stuff with you which she isn’t wrong but you’re his sweet girl it wasn’t your fault you’re so naive, he doesn’t want them other boys corrupting you that was his job)

I have no words....this is too hot

🥵🥵🥵🥵🥵

"Are you coming up now?" You heard your mother's voice as you only burrowed into Aegon's neck some more. Your lips nearly brushing against his soft skin. "I have some marking to do." Aegon hummed; his hand subtly moving up and down your back. All the while his fat cock was stuffing your weeping pussy. Your wetness dripping down his length as you tried to stay as still as possible. "Be a good girl now." Aegon whispered; his smirk only widening.

#stepfather aegon #aegon targaryen x reader #modern au #concepts

[teecupangel]

*Jumps through the window with a tea in hand* OK.. ok ok! I just read Desmond as Talia brother and now..... Desmond and Bruce! That's it! You will not tell me that Bruce looked at our crazy assassin and didn't have some sort of awakening! That's it! *puts the tea on the table and leaves through the sealing*

Here’s the Desmond is Talia’s twin brother idea for those curious.

Oh man, this could totally be part of the Desmond is Talia’s twin brother AU and Desmond is Bruce’s bisexual awakening. Hell, he might even try to shake it off and keep pushing the idea that he isn’t attracted to Desmond, he’s attracted to Talia and Desmond looks like Talia (it would be super funny if they were twins but Desmond still looks like Desmond and does not look that similar to Talia at all).

Talia noticed it, of course, and it’s just one more rivalry she has with her brother (which she’s winning!). Desmond isn’t blind, of course. He noticed that Bruce likes ‘like’ him but he ignores it because what else was he supposed to do in this situation? He has no interest in Bruce other than to see just how he would ‘grow up’ under the tutelage of the League of Assassins.

Until…

He became Batman.

And Desmond wasn’t going to lie. He found Batman hot in so many ways that really just showed just how fucked up the way he was raised… twice.

But Batman also annoys the hell out of him, most especially because of his no killing code so…

Desmond’s relationship with Bruce: Desmond is the kindest of the League members Bruce trained with and they have some kind of friendship.

Desmond’s relationship with Batman: Strained af. Reluctant allies most of the time but Batman spend most of his time trying to stop Desmond from killing a criminal. This usually ends in some kind of debate between them about just how much suffering and death a person needs to do for Batman to finally see they’re beyond saving and it even goes as far as Batman challenging the three tenets of Desmond’s Creed (which is slowly making its way to the League). Jokes on him because he still has the Bleeds’ memories of questioning the Creed and its tenets so Desmond doesn’t mind.

Of course, this does turn into some sort of weird love… tripod with Bruce in the middle and Talia, Desmond and Catwoman.

You know what would be funny? If Desmond doesn’t want to be part of any romantic entanglement and he knows his attraction to both Bruce (emotional) and Batman (physical) is dangerous but being Talia’s brother means he has the obligation not to suppport their relationship so he could annoy Talia so he goes “I ship Batman with Catwoman” even when he doesn’t really care.

Catwoman, on the other hand, finds Batman’s ‘romantic’ entanglement with the twins funny and ships Batman with Desmond because Desmond is nice to her (as one of the few rogue galleries that aren’t exactly in need of being assassinated. Plus,, she sees Desmond’s magpie tendencies as a kind of kinship with him).

Talia ships herself with Batman, of course, and the fact that there seemed to be some attraction between Batman and her brother is… more or less giving her complicated feelings.

Among the BatFamily, Jason is absolutely shipping Desmond with Bruce/Batman. Damien is torn between wanting his parents to find some common ground (and maybe more) and by the fact that he wants his uncle to be happy. The others want no part of it and just want to see the drama unfold while being worried about the damage it’ll have on Bruce if it does unfold.

Cass is raised by Desmond in this one so she may or may not be part of the Batfamily. Regardless, she would want her baba to be happy but… does it really have to be Batman?

#desmond al ghul au #ra’s just watching in the background #he ain’t getting in the middle of his children’s fighting #no good would ever come from that #he’d be like “good luck batman i’m out!” #desmond doesn’t want to be part of any entanglement #thank you #harley quinn thinks that stems from his own issues #damien be like “if they marry do i have to call uncle stepfather???” #assassin's creed #ask and answer #desmond miles #fic idea: assassin's creed #teecup writes/has a plot #bruce wayne #talia al ghul #fic idea: batman #fic idea: crossover #batman

[mjart12699]

I finally finished it! Here’s Muriel attempting to bond with Sawyer via fishing. I think it’s going well!

#the arcana #arcana game #muriel arcana #the arcana headcanons #muriel of the kokhuri #the arcana muriel #muriel the hermit #artists on tumblr #the arcana au #the arcana muriel fanart #he’s not the stepfather he’s the father that stepped up #original child character #child character #the arcana oc #my ocs <3 #oc artwork #ocs #the arcana original character #origanal character #watercolor painting #watercolor #watercolour art #traditional art #muriel the mountain man

[sugarsweetvirgo]

Eve: Bottling up negative emotions is bad for your health, so you shouldn't do it.

Seto: I know, that's why I bottle up all my emotions, both positive and negative, so it cancels out.

Eve: Th-that's not how that works-

Actually, the two are pretty open with each other.

#small hastag ramble #but i low-key feel kaiba is like. super mischaracterized when it comes to how he handles emotions #Id absolutely argue that Kaiba is one of the most emotional characters In the entire manga. More than Yugi is even #its just that a majority of the time his emotions are based in anger and hatred. so people see him as bottling up his feelings #when he's honestly the exact opposite. hes VERY open about how he feels and why he feels certain ways #For example Kaiba bluntly telling the gang that he's going to blow up Alcatraz because he hates his stepfather so much #or when Kaiba was very visibly disgusted by the shadow game on the piers with Yugi v Joey #or the numerous amounts of times Kaiba verbally told Atem how much he wants to defeat him. to the point of trembling with desire #Like Kaiba is incredibly open about his emotions. Except that a majority of the time his emotions are based in anger without a resolution #I just think its misinterpreted as him concealing his emotions because he doesn't show a lot of positive ones. but no. he's just that angry #especially since a majority of his actions in the manga are based on his own feelings #anyway sorry for the rant lmao the conversation just drives me nuts #I think he'd absolutely be really open to Eve about how he feels and his frustrations #Kinda using Eve as a sort of rubber duck to vent to a lot #It's also one of the reasons Eve loves Kaiba so much. because he's so brazen about his thoughts and feelings #ssv #oc #yugioh au #giant/tiny #yugiohoc #bondshipping #rant #tag rant #oc x canon #answered asks #ask

[thewriters64]

Stepfather Toji.

Your mom had married Toji only a few months ago, both working at high paying companies. With Toji came his toddler son Megumi.

Who at first clung to him and refused to leave his side, within a week it was like Toji didn’t even exist.

He was clung to you like you were his mother/father, calling you mom/dad. At first you found it weird how quickly he became attached.

Now if he wasn’t on your hip or by your side you grew anxious, your mother jealousy was as clear as day.

Whenever she would try to bond with Megumi he was straight out refuse stumbling over his feet to find you.

You found this amusing watching a grumpy Toddler storm away from your pouting mother, Toji also found this amusing.

Watching the two of you interact made his heart beat twice as fast, something he knew was wrong, so he never acted on the feeling.

Ignoring how whenever you two went out in public together stranger mistaken Megumi’s to be yours. “You are such a wonderful mom/dad”.

Instead of trying to correct them you sent a kind smiling thanking them, which made Toji’s heart beat even faster.

Months past soon turning into years, and even though Megumi turned seven he was still attached to your hip.

Following you around like a lost puppy, helping you cook, sit with you while you do your homework.

If you were hanging out with friends he would sit on your lap and glare at them, which caused some of them to leave.

Toji’s feelings for you never went away they only grew stronger if that was even possible, it was to the point where, when he would fuck your mom he thought of you.

How you would look under him when he pounds into you like his life depends on it, or how you would look riding him.

It was getting so bad all he could think about was you, with his kid, walking around with a ring on your finger officially adopting Megumi as your own.

Even his kid had a crush on you, he saw how his son looked at you how his eyes would widened, how his cheeks flushed when you complimented him.

How he would hide his face into your chest, whining if you didn’t tuck him in or slept in the same bed so he could cuddle you.

He never did that with your mother, even his own mother he didn’t do this, yes he use to be clingy towards himself but not to this extent.

He wasn’t jealous of his own son that would be ridiculous, it was mind boggling to him how you had managed to get both the Fushiguro boys wrapped around your finger.

In the time frame a few years, he knew deep down you were the one for him, maybe not in this life time would the two of you be together.

But he prayed every night in the next life you would be his, he was not the only Fushiguro to pray for this.

Even at his young age Megumi knew how you two would never be together, you treated him like he was your own kid, while he loved you in a different way.

Megumi and Toji knew deep down they could not have you, but damn would they make it hard for someone else to have you.

#stepfather #stepfather Toji #dilf toji #young Megumi #y/n one shot #gender neutral y/n #jjk imagines #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen one shot #jjk megumi #one shot #jjk x y/n #JJK AU #Jujutsu Kaisen au #son and father duo #stepbrother #AU Toji #AU Megumi #toji scenarios #drabble #headcanons

[rarepears]

Neighborhood Chronicles: The new neighbors.

Okay, little Luo Binghe sees that there's a new neighbor moving in next door to the run down little cottage that belongs to him and his (sickly) mom! He's eager and goes over to say hi!

And so he says hi. And like any old child who's suddenly found himself a rapt audience who's willing to hear anything tumbling out of his mouth, Luo Binghe ends up spilling the beans about his mother's condition.

So naturally Sung Jinwoo says "show me", follows Luo Binghe into the bedroom where his mother rests, and ends up healing the woman.

And two single dogs meet and end up falling in love.

Somehow.

(Beru's still not pleased by this chain of events, but Beru isn't the lord. Sung Jinwoo is.)

Thus when Luo Binghe's washerwoman of a mother ends up dying of her terminal illness a few years later than originally written in PIDW, Luo Binghe still has a parental figure to rely upon.

Sung Jinwoo stoically sees Luo Binghe off to attend the Cang Qiong extrance exams, his two arms behind his back in true Korean grandfather waiting pose as he valiantly holds back his tears at seeing his stepson leave the nest.

And things go very very differently for a Luo Binghe who's grown up with a savvy father figure who's survived a dog-eat-dog world and has way too many motherhens-called-shadow-soldiers reporting his every move from his shadows back to his stepfather.

[check out other fic ideas in the #made up fic title ask game]

#made up fic title ask game #solo leveling au #solo leveling #sung jinwoo #svsss ideas #svsss #svsss au #scum villian self saving system #scumbag self saving system #luo binghe #solo leveling ideas #manhwa #mxtx #sung jinwoo becomes luo binghe's stepfather au

[afterthegreatunknown]

asoue au where gregor anwhistle is alive and the stepfather of fernald and fiona, part two:

all while hector and widdershins are living together in the hinterlands in peace (peaceful as it can be until a certain event), the organization is in disarray. a family is in disarray.

the organization knows ishmael is alive given gregor's testimony, but no one knows where he could be. all that they know from gregor is that he's out there in the ocean in a bathyscaphe. some speculate ishmael eventually died for one can't travel too far and too long in a bathyscaphe (it's not a submarine, after all), while other speculate given the man's character, found a way to survive.

gregor other's brother ike, and his wife josephine, are ridden with guilty for partly causing the death of frigga, and widdershins. never would they assume their warning would have lead to the frigga getting shot. they never thought gregor's volatility would have him killing widdershins without any hesitation. the two deaths had ike and josephine entering retirement in the organization, limiting their contact with gregor to letters, until they died by leeches. not together, but leeches did killed them both.

kit snicket, while not losing her reputation in the organization (as with the others involve), slowly loses her other relationships as a result of the fire, especially with regards to widdershins' death. she loses ike and josephine, for like the couple themselves, holds them partly responsible for widdershins' death. kit loses betrand and beatrice, for their involvement in the volatile fungus deportation project has her seeing them as accomplices. kit loses her twin, after he writes an article that blames the boy widdershins loved as his own, as the one who destroyed anwhistle aquatic, and as widdershins' killer.

gregor himself goes through the ringer. he is unable to regain funding for a second attempt of the volatile fungus deportation project. the organization doesn't want to deal with another schism within schism. while gregor was offered by the organization to work in other less deadly projects, he instead decided to take over as captain of the queequeg, for the organization plan to turn it into scrap metal.

gregor doesn't mourn the lost of his project. he only mourns his wife, and widdershins. especially widdershins. it's why gregor become a captain, to save the queequeg, the one thing left of widdershins.

everyone mourns over frigga, but not many mourn over widdershins. much of the organization pretends he never existed, partly due to his violent death is something they don't want to think about again, but mostly because they're finally able to remove the 'leech outsider' who 'wormed' his way into the organization.

and fernald is disguised by them all, especially by gregor.

fernald always respected gregor, but never liked him. gregor never did anything to earn the teenager's ire though, which is why he didn't make complaints or objected to his mother's decision to date him. but now though, fernald has every reason to spite the man.

gregor allowed mom to transform into a different woman, and let her die. she became a woman who cared for work, and only work. not her family, her two children. gregor killed widdershins, the man who took care of fernald as a child, who tutored fernald like a chaperone. fernald lost the man he saw as a brother, as family.

the lost of his mother and widdershins has fernald one night lashing out at gregor. fernald yells at gregor for everything, and without any interruptions. fernald was able to let his feelings out at long last. and at the end...gregor told fernald to get out. that to take his things, and to never come back. and fernald does so without hesitation, crying his eyes out a week later, realizing he doomed fiona, and himself. he cries in anger as he read a newspaper article that brought back widdershins into the world, at the cost of everything he holds dear.

and it's fernald's anger at gregor does he make the decision to switch sides. it came to be after kit went to fernald in hopes to calm him down from reading her brother's article. and she did so, sort of. fernald stop his crying, but he was still angry, and told kit he wanted to get back at gregor by doing the one thing that would make him upset.

kit in horror, reminded fernald that he ought to be careful in how to spite his stepfather, for the one person who would be disappointed by fernald's actions, would be widdershins. and fernald told kit that he's doing it because of widdershins, that if the man was alive, fernald wouldn't thinking it in the first place.

and kit, despite knowing it's the wrong decision, lets fernald go. kit recognizes she is unable to change the path he's going, but accepts it. all she can do is wish him good luck and tells him that the next time they meet, they will be enemies. and fernald tells kit thank you, and makes her promise to watch his sister, if she can. fernald fears fiona's life will not be easy under gregor's care.

fernald's fears while not correct, also isn't wrong. gregor takes care of fiona; he feeds her, provides her clothes, and make sure she gets the best education possible, but he makes no attempts to emotionally connect with her. gregor refers to fiona as his daughter, but one can tell he doesn't view her as such. they can tell by his voice, how hollow it is, how dull his eyes are as he speaks the word.

once fiona gets old enough, she learns of her mother. she learns from her father that her mother died in a fire, and he failed to save here. it was a fire that her brother fernald blames gregor for, and ran away from home because the grief overtook him, for seeing fiona had the boy being painfully reminded of that night.

fiona also learns, all by herself, that her father is hiding something. some things are more obvious than others. her father's attempt to hide his...disconnection with her, is one she noticed at five, after he didn't appear on her birthday, only sending a gift from the mail. from that day onward, fiona knows her father is a father in everything but spirit, acting the motions of a father, but not letting himself be one. fiona wishes he could call him anything but that, but she feels oblige. he is the only family she has left. she doesn't want to lose him.

another thing fiona learns over time, is that her father is lying about being a submarine captain. fiona after visiting a few submarines with kit snicket -kit is the only volunteer willing to take fiona to other organization submarines- sees how her father isn't as skilled at the controls, which has fiona deciding to learn how to be a captain. it's something fiona can see kit is happy about, knowing the queequeg is in good hands at long last.

fiona learns how her father was very likely a scientist, after one day at the bookstore, when he buys three expensive trace fossils books, and she buys her first mycology book. her father upon seeing her book, has a light in his eyes, and spirit in his voice as he tells fiona about mycology, and how it's a dangerous field to study in, and to take caution, almost as if he was speaking from experience.

most importantly, fiona after some digging of the library, learns of the person who was very likely, the true captain of the queequeg. she finds the hidden poetry books, improper and proper dieting books, and the works of herman melville. one work in particular, moby dick, looks like it was read many times. pages are ready to fall out, and there are light pencil underlines in certain passages and of certain names.

one name in particular stands out to fiona. queequeg. fiona, after finally finishing her reading of moby dick, sees why the reader like queequeg, enough to name a submarine after him.

and it's moby dick does fiona sees how her father was once truly happy. inside the book is a photograph tuck away. it's a photograph of her father smiling, alongside her uncle ike and aunt josephine, and two men she doesn't recognized. one man had the luck of being in the middle, and the photo was crease so many times, his face is now gone. the other man's face is clear as day, but there's nothing that gives away who he is. the only standout is that the man has a mustache, and it curls upward almost like a parenthesis.

fiona keeps that photograph on her, knowing well that her father will never look through the book again. it's hiding away for a reason, like another photograph that is of her family at lake lachrymose. fiona would like to give the photo to kit in hopes the woman would identity the unknown men, but kit was soon assigned to libraries, taxis, and the hotel denouement.

fiona never told anyone about the photo. not even as the baudelaires came aboard the queequeg, fiona couldn't find it in herself to tell her third cousins of it. third cousins who didn't know of her existence until now, and of her father. and fiona isn't shock that aunt josephine never talked about her extended family (uncle ike and aunt josephine stop communicating with her father when fiona was a toddler, for reasons she still doesn't understand).

fiona kept it to herself as they were in the grotto, discussing a letter by kit to her father, who is now confirm a scientist, and not a submarine captain at all. fiona kept it to herself as the children came back aboard to an empty submarine, with only a note from her father, her stepfather, that he must depart on a vfd escort mission, entrusting fiona to be the new captain.

fiona kept it to herself as she struggles between trying to get the queequeg moving or to go find a cure for sunny, who when inside the grotto, got infected by the mycelium. fiona kept the photograph hidden as she and the baudelaires were thrown into the brig by count olaf, and as fiona reunited with her brother. fiona didn't dare show fernald the photo right then and there, even after learning of the deceased captain widdershins, the true owner of the queequeg who fernald was blame for killing upon setting the anwhistle aquatic fire, even though fernald wasn't there at all.

everything she learned in the brig was too much to show the photo. fiona eventually showed the photo to the baudelaires, after they showed her the photo of her family. seeing that photo had fiona snapping, telling them that her stepfather never cared about her and her brother, that he was never happy with her, that he was happy when single, when the true captain of the queequeg was alive.

and showing the photo at last to the baudelaires gave a reaction fiona wasn't expecting. the baudelaires told her the man in the photograph, the one with the mustache, is still alive. that his name is veasna heng, and that he's in a self-sustaining hot air mobile home with hector, the village of fowl devotee's handyman, taking care of duncan and isadora quagmire.

hearing those words gave fiona pause. it was a pause that granted the baudelaires the chance to convince fiona to let them go, as well as giving her the fungus inside sunny's helmet. and fiona agreed, thanking them for everything, the good and the bad.

fiona, upon reuniting with fernald, shows him the photograph, and what the baudelaires told her. and with a smile on his face, fernald asked her if she would be okay with a change of plan; instead of finding gregor, they should find the man in the photo, widdershins.

and fiona, without any hesitation, agrees to the change. while the change plan still oddly enough, lead to them finding gregor, it was not him who they ran towards though.

they instead ran towards widdershins.

(funny thing is, fiona feel it's how it's supposed to be)

#asoue #a series of unfortunate events #asoue au #fernald #hook handed man #fiona widdershins #kit snicket #gregor anwhistle #gregor lives au (fernald and fiona anwhistle au) #(which stepfather is worst?) #(the one who you know cares and love you but REALLY isn't cut out to be a parent he reads child reading books he collects them big time) #(or the one who does his role perfectly [and leaves you a note] but CLEARLY has no emotional bond with you and it hurts like he doesn't)

[fideidefenswhore]

If Elizabeth had been old enough to understand how Jane had usurped her mother's place and hastened her downfall, she would have resented her bitterly. As it was, at just under four years old, it is unlikely that she realized the full implications of Jane's rise to power.

Elizabeth’s Women, Tracy Borman

#tracy borman #it's a shame no one's tackled an AU where jane survives; this would be one of the most interesting aspects #what her relationships with her stepchildren would have turned out to be #unfortunately fitzroy died in july so we don't really have a case example outside of mary and elizabeth about which we know #too little to make a judgement because it's before jane has her own child...... #i do actually wonder a lot about what the seymour-fitzroy relationship would have shaped out to be had both jane and fitzroy survived? #since he was married to a howard for one #but also he must have had some relationship with them bcus edward seymour was his master of the horse #and i believe anne seymour's stepfather had been a member of his household as well? #henrician

[cadavercowboy]

In Too Deep

Stepfather!Bucky Barnes x Reader ✦ Explicit Content (18+ Only) ✦ Mini Series ✦ In Progress

Bucky’s marriage is falling apart and he’s desperate for something familiar to cling to. He knows you’re the wrong thing, but you don’t exactly make it easy for him to keep his distance.

Part One | Part Two

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x reader fanfiction #bucky barnes x reader smut #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes #stepdad au #stepfather!bucky barnes #sebastian stan #stepfather au #sebastian stan fanfiction

[imsodishy]

this is @ariesbilly 's fault because they said The Stepfather au and my brain lit up like a Christmas tree (this is pretty dark, as a warning)

Billy's mother, in his memories, isn't his mother. Or, she is, but she’s isn't, too. She's not even one woman. She's an amalgam of all the 'mothers' Neil had brought home for them.

Billy's brain rolls them all together in the vague shape of a loving mother to protect itself from the awful truth. The memories of all the women his father killed when they didn't measure up. Just like he did with the original, Billy's actual mother.

Except the one who ran. She’s the reason Billy remembers his mother leaving. He remembers begging her to take him with her, to come back for him. But she wasn't his mother so she couldn't. She really couldn't.

Even the ones who come after her get rolled into it. She left. When did she leave? How old was he when she left? He doesn't know. She left. She always leaves.

Until Susan comes along. Because Susan comes with Max attached, and that’s not right. He doesn't have a sister. There’s never been a sister. It breaks the pattern. It breaks the story. It breaks Billy.

And it's all gonna crumble.

#billy hargrove #neil hargrove #dishy writes #i guess? i dunno where this came from #stepfather au

[maestro-of-clockwork]

My poor dear, you were cast aside,

Treated like a broken doll.

Once your usefulness to Father Dear had run out,

He only tossed you away.

You came to me, with tears in your eyes,

Confided in me your deepest scars...

I almost felt terrible for you.

Almost.

And so began the game.

Starting out, I gave you

What you'd always wanted:

Attention,

Love,

Care,

Affection...

All a mask, of course, but that is just

My modus operandi by now...

I twist and weave the strings of fate,

All of the paths lain out in front of me

...I could never have predicted

I'd actually grow fond of you.

I knew that I was plucking at your emotions

Not unlike the Devil's lyre,

But even when all was said and done,

Even when I rendered you a broken shell of who you once were,

I felt...remiss, somehow.

Yes, I loved and still love to see you suffer.

I take great amusement in your turmoil.

However...something within me

Longs to see you smile, all the same.

I cannot help but check on you

A bit more than I do your friends...

Sometimes, I imagine such absurd things:

I imagine taking you on trips, to let you see the sights you've always dreamt of...

I imagine you telling me about all of your achievements, and I imagine I tell you how proud I am of you...

I imagine you asking me for advice and support, which I gladly give...

I imagine you telling me all about your new favourite things, your new hopes, and new dreams...

I imagine gifting you things I'd made by hand - you beam brightly at me and say that I'm the best fath-. . .

Nevermind it.

It really is silly, isn't it. . .?

Ah, forget that I said anything, sunshine. . .

#from the typewriter. {{ t e x t }} #words are an art. {{ poems }} #[[ dunno if you can count this as a poem but oh well ]] #dhmis ask blog #[[ antonio wicked stepfather au ]] #tw neglect mention

[carbonateddelusion]

jus random thoughts...

sane universe Mads def gets hit hard by gifted kid fatigue. they never really felt like they were a part of their family because they're so much younger than most of their siblings, so they slowly distance themself from their family to suffer alone after they graduate and try to go to college.

their early 20s are Really Rough. they're in a constant depressive fog that consumes everything around them; it eventually chases off their gf because Camila can't take being around someone who is such a constant drain. the depression meds aren't working, they pretty much only see their family on holidays, and despite talking to their parents at least once a month, it's more them lying to them about being fine than having someone to turn to.

Isaac has a boyfriend, a stable job, and a good home, Elijah has a girlfriend and a decently paying job, Jack has his kid with his long-term girlfriend and has severely mellowed out, but they're just kind of... There. as an outlier. the only sibling of theirs that feels like a sibling is Isaac because they grew up together. everybody was always too caught up in stuff that happened either before they were born or when they were very young. they immediately had all of that trauma in common, and Mads was constantly playing catch up to struggle for a relationship with their family. and when their depression, self-loathing, and general distaste for socializing got worse, they shut everyone out.

they get better Eventually but. times are tough.

#i like mads a lot... #i think no matter the age the role they play in comparison to everybody else is very interesting #bc everybody that isn't isaac is a good 10+ years older than them #and mads was kind of the last straw for maddie's stepfather (jack n co's dad) to figure out that isaac and mads weren't his kids #they always feel like an outsider from a narrative point and their own mind yk? #they're the exception to a general rule of thumb when it comes to their siblings #their sibs r either averagely intelligent or dumb as bricks. mads is VERY smart #they're much shorter than everyone else (around their mom's height which is 4'10 iirc) #and they're very much. the observant quiet type? #elijah is quiet bc he gets anxious and shy and in his own head. hannah jack and isaac are all p loud people #maddie sits back and watches people at takes internal notes. observes... #oc ramblings #oc #my oc #oc: maddison #modern au #modern maddison

[mjart12699]

I finally finished it! Here’s Muriel attempting to bond with Sawyer via fishing. I think it’s going well!

#the arcana #arcana game #muriel arcana #the arcana headcanons #muriel of the kokhuri #the arcana muriel #muriel the hermit #artists on tumblr #the arcana au #the arcana muriel fanart #he’s not the stepfather he’s the father that stepped up #original child character #child character #the arcana oc #my ocs <3 #oc artwork #ocs #the arcana original character #origanal character #watercolor painting #watercolor #watercolour art #painting #traditional art #muriel headcanons #muriels route #muriel x mc #muriel the mountain man #muriel the arcana #muriel

[abysslll]

ok literally im rereading comfort crowd rn and oh my god

#for context it's an au where giorno murders his stepfather when he's fourteen and then gets recruited by bucci #and it's just super sad because of how messed up he is #but uh #anyway #i'm on part four #and giorno saying ''bucciarati was the first person to hug me. i only joined passion because i wanted another hug'' is KILLING me #i am crying over here #fic liveblogging