#I don’t stand for incest

[ninugh29]

Who do you think was Five’s favorite sibling?

I personally think it was either Klaus or Viktor but that’s just me 🙏

[labyrynth]

/salt

trying to interact w genshin fandom is just constantly playing russian roulette and losing

like is this random user normal about kaeya and diluc or are they convinced that kaeya’s name is ragnvindr? are they normal about kaeya and diluc or do they ignore everything diluc has to say?

are they normal about kaeya and diluc or do they ignore the original text in favor of a mistranslated snippet that has a meaning opposite what they think?

are they normal about kaeya and diluc or do they call everyone that prefers canon over their headcanon a freak?

go on, give it a spin. i promise some of the chambers are empty.

[dovedrangeas]

transphobic gays when the conservatives they allied with to harm trans people move from transphobia to homophobia:

[castielmacleod]

Run-of-the-mill flagrant w* shippers are awful and disgusting of course but god those Kripke era purists who literally salivate over how fucked up the Sam + Dean + John dynamic is and act like the most intellectual people on earth for doing so. And are quietly but very obviously into w* but not in a typical shipping sense and rather in the sense that they have a real and perverse enjoyment of abuse and emotional incest. Those people are truly one of the most disturbing and terrifying types of people on here.

[speedwayy]

.

[targaryen-dynasty]

ENCOURAGEMENT.

Daemon Targaryen x little sister!Reader

It's 105 AC. Your brother, King Viserys, wants to throw a feast in honor to announce his wife's pregnancy. You want to attend—if it weren't for the rising doubts about your changing body. But it's good your husband knows a way to ease your worries.

WARNINGS: SEXUAL CONTENT—MINORS DNI; canon typical incest/targcest (brother & sister), mirror sex, vaginal fingering, praise kink, female and pregnant reader, lactation, lactation kink, nipple play

WORDS: 2.5 K

NOTES: Thank you for betaing this sweet thing, @happilyhertale! 🤍

❗️𝐚𝐝𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐲 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭!

Frustration brings you to the point you stand completely bare in front of the large mirror that’s been brought into your chambers by the servants, looking at your reflection. To the right hangs a black gown, and to the left a more reddish one. And neither of the two will fit over your swollen curves, you just know by looking at it.

You’ve scared off your ladies-in-waiting a few minutes ago, usually soft-spoken you experiencing an emotional outburst that just called for you to be left alone.

Nearing the six moon mark of your first pregnancy has left your body with scars and marks around your rounded belly and swollen breasts, some even teetering down the insides of your thighs. And yet, when you look at your husband strolling into your martial chambers with not more than a large cloth hanging around his hips, his scarred chest on full display, you can only admire him for wearing them with so much confidence.

But not even your own doubts can stop your eyes from stealing glances, his toned physique managing to put your mind at ease for once. Trailing your eyes over the expanse of his scarred chest down to the dark trail of hair that ends deep below the cloth that conceals most of it. However, it only poorly hides the way his half-hard member prods against the linen with each step he makes towards you.

He makes no secret out of the way his lilac eyes all but devour your body and its curves, although your belly is not yet as swollen as Aemma’s was when she was with Rhaenyra. The pregnancy has made you even more of a woman, and knowing he’s the one responsible for it makes him feel proud but also quite possessive.

“What is it?” he asks, his gravelly voice sending a chill down your spine.

Daemon eventually comes to a stop with his tall frame looming over yours from behind, fingers trailing over your side in an uncharacteristically tender and gentle manner. Every inch of your reflection is devoured by his greedy eyes. “We do not have to attend the feast, you know,” he says. “I wouldn’t dream of depriving myself of the pleasure of spending time with my wife.”

As he bows his head forward to press his lips to your shoulder, the soft strands of his silver hair tickle your skin, making you lean into his embrace and him reaching around you to splay a hand over your swollen belly.

“But I want to go. It’s the feast in honor of the queen announcing her pregnancy, and our brother will be cross with us if we do not attend,” you pout at him. “I just… I just don’t know which dress to choose.”

Daemon, however, knows full well that you’re being less than honest with him about your reluctance to go to the feast, becoming obvious when he starts to trace his fingers over the marks running across the underside of your bump. “That truly is a conundrum,” he says.

Sighing loudly, you try to escape his fingers by leaning further against him. But the friction your rear causes against the cloth is enough to loosen its tie, allowing it to fall to the ground.

The both of you are completely bare now, and he wastes no time in pressing his hard cock snugly into the crevice of your arse, making his desire for you more than clear.

“Let us forget the dresses for now. You know you’ll look ravishing no matter what you wear,” Daemon drawls, running a hand along your side. “Besides, why not allow me to appreciate every inch of you… no dresses involved.”

It sounds far too tempting… if you were in the mood. But with you struggling with your changing body for quite some time now, the thought of unraveling for him discourages you even more. “We do not have time,” you try to protest.

Much to your surprise, your usually insolent husband listens to your words.

“I think you’ll find that we have plenty of time, my love,” he mumbles, taking a step back with his hands raised in defeat. “The time we spend together would be much better than the time spent amongst a bunch of prudes at a feast.”

Not paying a mind to his words, you just nod appreciatively, and bring your attention back to the two gowns still hanging next to the mirror. Perhaps you can make the black one work with the laces tied extra loosely, and you only present at the feast for no longer than two hours.

Daemon stalks around you to stand next to the mirror, shamelessly dragging his eyes over your naked form and watching you inspect one of the dresses.

“Do you not have to dress yourself, husband?” you ask, pinching the fabric of the black dress between your fingers, trying not to pay too much attention to him. But his gaze is intense, burning straight through your skin, and making your body heat up.

You meet his eyes, cocking an eyebrow.

“There is a more important matter for me to tend to,” he objects.

“What are you–” you’re interrupted when your husband grabs the sides of the mirror and hoists it up, bringing it closer to your marital bed.

Turning on your heels, you watch him adjust it and eventually sit down on the bed with both feet planted firmly on the ground. The confusion must be evident on your features, because without a question uttered, Daemon pats his sturdy thigh and parts his legs, silently beckoning you over with a come-hither motion of his fingers.

The sight alone is alluring, his thick cock resting hard and heavy between his thighs, covered in an angry red and aching to be buried inside of you. But wanting to find out what he’s in mind is what brings you closer to him.

You move to climb his lap, wanting to sit astride him like you sit on Silverwing, but Daemon beats you to it. He scoots back slightly and brings his paws to your hips, turning you around. He pulls you back to sit down in the space between his parted legs.

When his hands hook beneath your knees to drape them over his thighs, inevitably exposing yourself to him, you instinctively lean back against him to adjust to the position.

You want to squeeze your thighs together, to hide from him, but his legs stop you from doing so. He brings a hand up to cup your full breast, squeezing lightly and testing the weight and shape of it. They’re full of milk by now, providing for your unborn child, and hard and heavy to the touch.

Pressing his lips to the curve of your shoulder, you tilt your head to the side, not daring to watch your fully exposed reflection in the mirror. You’ve been bare around him the whole time, and he’s fucked you in ways that would bring a blush to certain people’s faces, but something in the current position and your growing insecurities makes you more vulnerable right now.

Daemon adjusts his fingers so that your taut bud pops up between them, and just a bit of pressure is already enough to coax droplets of your milk to spill from it. Your breathing grows heavy, more so because it’s already enough friction to ease some of the tormenting tension.

“I want to see you full and lovely and large, swollen with my seed and carrying my child,” he mutters against your skin. His other hand comes up to cup your chin, pushing your head forwards to all but force you to look at yourself. “And I want you to watch as I worship that precious body of yours.”

The hand on your chin settles at your throat, not squeezing it but tight enough for it to be a warning for you not to move. The other hand releases your breast and trails down to the apex of your legs. It all happens agonizingly slowly, tracing and following every scar that runs along the curve of your bump, until it finally finds your cunt.

As his fingers drag through it, even your husband can’t seem to stop himself from moaning. “You’re weeping for me, my love,” he rasps, nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck. “So beautiful.” Withdrawing his fingers, they’re glistening with your arousal, connected by faint strings of it as he spreads his fingers.

You whimper, and dip your head back far enough for him to capture your lips. The kiss is sloppy, matching the rhythm he sets up as his fingers trace your cunt.

Daemon hums in approval as you pull away from him to look into the mirror, watching the exact moment his deft fingers ease into you. You gasp at the motion, and put all your weight back against him, melting into his embrace with his muscular arms around you.

There’s a pout on your lips when the pressure of his fingers leaves you again, used to spread apart your folds instead. In the reflection you see his dark blown eyes fixed on nothing else than what lies between your legs, his hard cock throbbing against your lower back as you clench around nothing. “Look how beautiful you look all spread out and ready for me, my love.”

Trying to squeeze your thighs shut, his hand comes from your throat to clasp around one, keeping you spread open for him. “Oh, don’t you dare,” he warns, causing a shiver to run down your spine.

With the heel of his hand pressing snugly against your pearl now, you can’t help but whimper as his fingers enter you again. The pace is slow and languid, making clear that neither of you is in a hurry tonight. It’s all about you.

“Seven hells, just look at you,” he coos against the side of your face, tip of his nose nudging your cheek. He clearly enjoys the confidence you slowly start to muster as his praises go straight to your head, coaxing you to rock your hips against his hand. “You truly have no idea of how much I desire you. Always.”

His words bring another wave of crimson to your cheeks, running down your neck and chest. It’s heaving with all the heavy breaths you inhale, and your taut buds have not softened since he touched them. If everything, his words and gestures have coaxed a few beads of milk to ooze from both, running down the curve of your breasts.

Reaching behind you, your hand rests at the back of his head, entangling into his long, silver hair. “Daemon–” you whimper, but he’s quick to silence you.

“Shush now,” he rasps. “Just enjoy and observe.”

And you certainly do, watching his fingers pump in and out of you as if it’s the most enthralling thing you’ve ever seen.

When he’s sure you’ll keep your legs spread for him, he brings his hand to your full breast again, groping and squeezing it, pinching the little bud to tease even more milk to spill from it.

It’s so much coming together at once. His praise goes straight to your head, making it hazy and longing for more, while liquid fire courses through your veins, ignited by the skilled ministrations of his fingers.

Daemon seems to sense your impending peak, and is determined to work you toward the sweet relief you so desperately crave.

The pace of his fingers increases now, fingers repeatedly brushing the sweet spot inside of you that makes your vision blurry. Pleasure soars through your body, and eventually is enough to snap the familiar knot inside of your belly. And that’s also the moment you can’t watch yourself any longer. The pleasure grows to the point you have to close your eyes to be able to thoroughly enjoy it. But your husband doesn’t seem to mind.

“There you go,” he coos, not slowing down the pace of his hands. “Such a good girl.”

Your walls convulse all over Daemon’s fingers, and with you releasing the sweetest and most desperate sounds your husband has heard in a while, he’s sure he could’ve peaked on spot, more so with the vice-like grip you have on his long hair.

His hand works you through the waves of euphoria, just slightly slowing down, and while your mind doesn’t process some of the praises he mumbles against your skin, your body does; with a renewed wave of arousal dripping out of your cunt.

It’s surprising that the pleasure doesn’t get replaced by overstimulation, especially with just how little time he gives you to recover until he starts pumping his fingers in and out of you at a harsher pace again.

“Gods be good,” you whimper, tipping your head back against his shoulder. Your hand releases his hair and instead you grab his forearm with both, clinging onto it for dear life.

“One more for me, you’re doing so good.”

You have barely time to process the first peak and its repercussions when the second washes over you in an ambush, striking you like lightning. It’s not as intense as the first, but prolonged with his other hand now frantically rubbing your pearl.

“Shh, just let it happen,” he purrs, pressing sloppy kisses to your cheek as you struggle against him.

It takes just a few more pumps of his hand until the pleasure subsides, only leaving a wave of bliss in its wake. Daemon’s hands both stop their ministrations, and you finally feel as though you’re able to breathe again.

As you open your eyes, you see him lick the remnants of your arousal off his fingers, before they tease your buds again, gathering some of your milk to lick off of them as well.

Whimpering and whining at the touch, you just slowly catch your breath. He soothes you by snaking both arms around your form, cupping your swollen belly, and presses gentle kisses to the side of your face.

“You’re an absolute vision in this state, and I do not wish for you to ever doubt that,” he mutters against your skin. “You look more desirable carrying my child, than any other woman does in their most provocative dress.”

Releasing a soft chuckle, you turn your head and capture his lips with yours. A chaste peck is not what he has anticipated, but he’s still happy that he was able to lift your spirits.

“Kirimvose, ñuha jorrāelagon,” you whisper. “Care to help me with the black dress?” Thank you, my love.

“Oh, I will,” Daemon says with a teasing lilt in his voice. He grabs you by the waist and carefully hoists you up, but when he lies you down on your back, you know you won’t be getting into the dress so soon. “But I think I need just a little more time to get fully into the spirit of the occasion.”

The moment he climbs on the bed to kiss his way over your marks and curves, you squeal and squirm, entangling your hands into his hair again.

Viserys can never be angry with you two for long anyway.

[quin-ns]

Always Forever (Coriolanus Snow x Reader)

Word count: 8.2K

Summary: coriolanus finally lets himself acknowledge that he can’t stand to see you with anyone but him

Tags: (18+), cw: dubcon, cw: noncon, pseudo!incest (not related, reader raised with the snows), dark!coriolanus, pre-mentor era, jealousy/obsession/possessiveness, oral (f receiving), fingering, p in v sex, fear of getting caught, lots of drama for my lovely readers

A/N: second coryo fic and it’s somehow longer than the last one lol. only one part. pls read the tags and proceed with caution 🫶

hunger games masterlist

“Look at you, you look so pretty!” Tigris beamed, adjusting the straps of your dress. “Doesn’t she, Coryo?”

In his peripheral, Coriolanus could see his cousin had turned to look at him expectantly, but his eyes were already on you. They always had been, and always would be.

“Yes, she does,” he replied without thought.

You faced him with a smile, and Coriolanus couldn’t help the pride that swarmed him just looking at you.

It was because of him that you were in his life, and until the day he died Coriolanus knew it would remain the best decision he ever made.

As children during the war, when he and Tigris would scavenge the streets, Coriolanus stumbled across you. Not much younger than him, huddled behind a pillar, all alone. You had a half a loaf of bread. It wasn’t fresh, but he still didn’t understand where you got it. You tore it in half and shared it with him.

He returned to Tigris with you in tow, his small hand clutching your even smaller one, and his cousin took pity.

She also took the brunt of the consequence for bringing home another mouth to feed, but sacrifices had to be made, didn’t they?

It was worth it. You were worth it to him—to both of them, really.

As you got older, Grandma’am eventually took a liking to you, although Coriolanus wondered if it was because she could see how much he cared for you.

It didn’t matter. Not really. You were part of the family now, even if you did not share the Snow name.

“Thank you, Tigris,” you said sweetly, pulling the older girl into a hug.

It was a big day for both you and Coriolanus. The academy was hosting an event for students to mingle with administration and alumni of the university.

Coriolanus had put on his best outfit—he already knew it was the same one he was going to wear when the Plinth Prize winner was announced in only a few weeks. He was sure it was going to be him.

Tigris had fashioned your dress by hand. Coriolanus was past questioning how she paid for her fine fabrics, but he had an inclination it was the same way they could suddenly afford food some days.

The long dress reminded Coriolanus of freshly fallen snow, the white holding a sense of purity and wealth that his family once had. It had a sense of elegance that you only furthered with donning it, but it lacked an extravagance that would force you to stand out.

It was perfect.

You parted from Tigris to approach Coriolanus. You had a light smile on your face as your hands ran down his black vest, adjusting it.

“We almost match,” you commented, referring to the white shirt beneath said vest. “If only I had something black.”

“Well, I’d let you borrow this, but then we’d be in the same position, only switched,” he teased lightly, drawing a small chuckle from you.

Coriolanus liked when you looked up at him, same as he liked hearing your laugh.

“Don’t worry, I’ll survive without.” Your hands fell to your sides. “Besides, it definitely looks more handsome on you.”

Hearing those words from you meant more than you’d ever know, and more than he’d let himself acknowledge.

You were so good to him, he couldn’t imagine spending the evening with anyone else.

When he walked into the ballroom of the academy with you on his arm, Coriolanus got a rush of power. Especially when heads turned. Looking at him, looking at you, just looking.

He wondered what the minds behind all those gazing eyes were thinking.

He hoped it was a balanced amount of envy and respect.

“We should find Sejanus, let him know we’re here,” you said, not thinking much of the sentence as you looked around the room, taking in the people and the decor.

Coriolanus thought everything of it, a sourness settling over him. Sejanus was his friend, but Coriolanus wished they hadn’t gotten as close as they did. It was because of his friendship with Sejanus that you met him, and began to develop… feelings for him.

God, Coriolanus hated to even think about it.

When you told him you had begun dating Sejanus, Coriolanus nearly had a heart attack. Then he felt violent. Not towards you. Never towards you.

It wasn’t just because he felt protective of you, or because Sejanus was district, or because Coriolanus knew you were far, far too good for his friend… it was everything. All of that and everything in between.

Before you could find him, Sejanus found you.

He was in a fine black suit, finer than anything Coriolanus owned, and a bright smile appeared on his face at the sight of you.

That was one thing they still had in common. Reverence for you.

“Had to come find my girl before everyone thinks she ditched me,” Sejanus joked, pulling a laugh from you. “Where have you guys been?”

“Making sure we look our best,” you replied, shooting Coriolanus a wink.

If Sejanus wasn’t reaching for you, Coriolanus might’ve smiled.

“Well, you did a wonderful job.”

Coriolanus let you slip away from his side, reluctantly giving you away to Sejanus.

The unfortunate thing was Sejanus was truly a decent person. Not perfect, but decent. Better than most, even if he was beneath you all. You cared nothing for status, and seemed to really like him. He treated you right from what Coriolanus had seen, making disapproval not exactly warranted.

Although, Coriolanus was always going to be incredibly protective of you. He doubted there was a world where he would be pleased with any relationship you found. Your interest in other people was becoming tiresome, truthfully. Did you really even need friends? Or lovers? You had Coriolanus, and he was sure that was enough.

His jaw clenched when you pressed a light kiss to Sejanus’s cheek. It would be much simpler if he was a terrible person. Coriolanus would have an excuse outside of his own selfishness to separate you—which he did not have now.

“Can I ask for this dance?” Sejanus wondered, shooting you a smile. At least he had the awareness to still look anxious.

But you… you grinned. You were too good.

“Well you just asked, so I guess you can,” you started sarcastically, but let him off the hook quickly. “And of course I’ll say yes.”

Sejanus looked relieved, taking your hand in his. You turned to look at Coriolanus, a small bit of guilt in your expression. You clearly hadn’t been planning on leaving his side so soon. You masked it with the same teasing tone you’d used before.

“I won’t be long, don’t get too bored without me, Coryo.”

Coriolanus only smiled for your sake. It fell the moment Senjanus led you away to a small group of other students dancing together.

From the sidelines, Coriolanus watched as Sejanus led you in a slow dance. He tried to avoid his eyes landing on his friend. He didn’t want to view the two of you in the same light as the other couples embracing one another.

Coriolanus tried to remember the first moment he realized how beautiful you were. It was so long ago, it wasn’t something he was even aware he thought so often.

The sun rose in the morning, roses had thorns, and you were beautiful.

It was simple as that.

After a dance and a half, Coriolanus couldn’t take it anymore.

His feet carried him to the dance floor, mind absent as he tried to justify his jealousy as protectiveness. Yes, that’s all he was. Protective. Like an older brother… like what he was supposed to be. Even if it wasn’t what he wanted to be.

You and Sejanus were swaying and talking, but as he snuck up on the two of you, Coriolanus couldn’t make out the words. It didn’t matter.

You turned your head to look at him, smiling in surprise at his presence.

“Coryo!”

“Can I cut in?” Coriolanus requested. His hand itched to rest on your shoulder, but he withheld. He wasn’t going to take no for an answer, and he briefly wondered if Sejanus sensed that or not.

“All yours,” Sejanus agreed, spinning you by the hand. You turned in a circle, then a half, facing Coriolanus. “I’m going to go find my father, he’s here tonight,” he informed.

“I’ll come find the two of you in a few minutes,” you told Sejanus, who nodded then headed off. Before he did, he looked to Coriolanus and said, “Take good care of her.”

“I always do,” Coriolanus responded easily, because it was the truth. He didn’t need Sejanus telling him that. He’d been there for you long before either of you even knew his friend existed. He looked down to you, taking your hand in his while the other fell to your waist. You looked amused. “I do, don’t I?”

“Yes, Coryo,” you replied with a smile. “Better than anyone.”

The slow waltz felt so natural, your movements in tune with his without thought. You two were always like that, always in sync.

“What were you and Sejanus talking about?” Coriolanus wondered, curiosity getting the best of him.

“Nothing important,” you dismissed with a shrug. “Sweet nothings.”

Coriolanus didn’t miss the shy smile appearing on your face. He couldn’t control the frown trying to take over his.

A more thoughtful look crossed your face, your smile faltering.

“Are you happy for me, Coryo?”

Coriolanus blinked.

“I… want to be,” he confessed, eyes scanning your face. It was the truth for the most part. He did want you to be happy, just not with Sejanus.

You nodded slowly, taking in his words. Coriolanus wished he could open your head and investigate every corner of your brain. He wanted to know every thought you had.

“Sejanus is your friend, I would’ve thought…” you swallowed and looked away. “Never mind.”

“No, what is it?” Coriolanus pressed, tilting his head, trying to make you meet his gaze.

When you did, he saw the disappointment in your eyes.

You stepped back from him, parting completely.

“I need to find Sejanus. I’ll put in a good word for you about the Plinth Prize with his father.”

Then, you departed, not leaving room for Coriolanus to argue for you to stay.

He would’ve, and you knew that.

The moment you disappeared from his view, Coriolanus went looking. You had moved quickly. He found you across the room, sitting down at a table with Sejanus and Mr. Plinth.

He didn’t approach, he couldn’t make himself look bad in front of Mr. Plinth.

So he watched you talk, and drink, and laugh, and drink some more…

“I can’t believe she’s doing this,” Arachne whispered, suddenly appearing at his side. Coriolanus looked down at her. She was clearly talking about you. He could see the way she flicked her heavily decorated eyes in your direction. “Associating with him was one thing, but… well”—Arachne let out a vicious laugh—“do you think their children will call her “Ma” too?”

Coriolanus felt ill at the thought. Leave it to Arachne to provoke him, to conjure up nightmares he hadn’t even thought of yet himself.

“She’ll come to her senses,” Coriolanus muttered, gritting his teeth.

Arachne rolled her eyes. “Let’s hope so,” she mused, continuing on her way, blood red dress dragging behind her with each step.

Coriolanus looked back to you. He was overwhelmed with nausea as Sejanus grabbed your hand atop the table. Damn Arachne for placing that thought in his head.

He watched as you lifted another glass to your lips, smiling along as Sejanus talked to his father. What was that, your third? Sejanus had yet to say anything to you. He was fine with allowing you to get intoxicated?

Drinking alcohol wasn’t exactly a crime, but Sejanus didn’t know you well enough to know you were inexperienced. The last thing Coriolanus wanted was you making a fool of yourself.

Darker thoughts crept in. Maybe Sejanus was allowing you to inebriate yourself on purpose. The thought of him climbing on top to you made Coriolanus’s blood boil. His fingers twitched to form a fist, and his jaw clenched even tighter.

In that moment, Coriolanus decided he wouldn’t let Arachne’s mockery come true.

He had to help you. You needed his protection, even when you didn’t know it. You needed him. You always would. Coriolanus could remind you, then perhaps you'd see you didn’t even need Sejanus at all.

When you left the table—Coriolanus wasn’t sure why—he saw his opportunity. He approached you quickly, finding no problem in catching your arm and leading you away from the party. Away from all the people, where it could just be the two of you.

Out a door, down a long, empty corridor until the two of you ended up outside in the school’s garden. It was isolated from the party, you’d be safer here.

“Coryo? What—“

“Are you alright?” Coriolanus asked, cutting you off. He released you to stand across from you, leaving you to lean back against the stone wall behind you. “I saw how much you were drinking.”

You looked up at him, confused, but not frightened. If anyone else had handled you the way he did, you surely would’ve been. But you trusted him. You always had.

“Did I drink a lot?” you asked, a slight pout on your lips. “I didn’t notice.”

“Oh.” So, you were okay. That was good, wasn’t it? “I thought maybe you needed rescuing,” he admitted, unsure whether to feel embarrassed or not.

You chuckled a little and the sound washed over Coriolanus, bringing him a sense of relief from all his previous tension.

“My hero,” you said lightly, smiling up at him. You were always smiling at him, but Coriolanus no longer wondered if he was worthy of it all. “You’re always there for me, aren’t you?”

Coriolanus stepped closer. His hand rose, his fingertips trailing the outline of your face. Someone so pretty, so sweet, had to be careful in a cruel world like this.

“What would you do without me?” he proposed, not expecting an answer.

You didn’t need one, because you never would have to find out.

He’d follow you to the end of the Earth, just as he knew you’d follow him. You needed each other. You didn’t need Tigris or Grandma’am and especially not Sejanus, but without Coriolanus, who would you even be? Coriolanus couldn’t imagine his world without you in it. Not even if he tried.

Staring at you now, Coriolanus heard the voice in the back of his mind begin to whisper. The one that urged his protectiveness, knowing it was fueled by possession. The one he would use all his power to silence.

Something new had overcome him, watching you galavant around with Sejanus. Well, not new, but clear. Coriolanus finally had clarity. That’s what it was. That was how he finally acknowledged what had so long been lingering in his peripheral, just on the edge of his mind, waiting for the right moment.

Was this the right moment?

He made no effort to banish his most repressed thoughts. For once, he let them win.

Coriolanus leaned down, pressing his lips to yours. Gentle, testing the waters. You did not react right away. Maybe it wasn’t necessarily a good sign, but that didn’t stop him from using it as an excuse to deepen the kiss.

His other hand found your face, holding you against him as he nipped at your lip, begging you to invite him in.

Your reaction was delayed, and Coriolanus thought maybe, just maybe, you had been thinking the same thing he had all along. That the faint taste of alcohol on your lips meant you were feeling more open to exploring this with him, and that all you needed was a nudge in the right direction.

But no, you were turning your head, making his lips part from yours.

Coriolanus faltered, but you still did not speak. Your breaths were clipped—flustered and confused. He could understand that. His own heart was racing, although adrenaline and need were to blame for that.

“Coryo…” you whispered so softly he nearly didn’t hear it. “What are you doing?”

Leave it to you to not get angry with him. Or even upset. At this point he questioned if you were even capable of feeling anger at him.

Coriolanus stepped closer, making you have to tilt your head up to look at him.

“I don’t think I can share you,” he confessed under his breath, but with conviction. “I know I can’t and you… you don’t need anyone else. You have me.”

You swallowed, eyes looking down. “Sejanus—“

“Doesn’t know you like I do,” Coriolanus finished, one hand still holding your cheek, tilting your head, making you meet his eye again. “Seeing you with him… he’s not good enough for you.”

“I thought you were above judging him for being district.” You sounded so disappointed in him.

“I don’t care that he’s district, he’s not good enough because no one will ever be,” Coriolanus corrected, imploring you to understand.

With a light sigh, his eyes fell shut. Gently, he leaned to press his forehead to yours. He blindly reached for your hands, and found them in each of his with no problem.

“I would not be happy seeing you with anyone else,” Coriolanus confessed, voice low. “Not anyone but me.”

You inhaled slightly. Was it that big of a shock?

He gave you no chance to voice it because Coriolanus was capturing your lips again, passion erupting in his veins.

His mind was clouded with thoughts that fought for center attention, his built up desires controlling him as his hands and lips cascaded down your body. Your neck, your chest, your stomach—

“Coryo, what are you doing?” you questioned when he began to move lower.

“Shh, don’t worry,” he cooed, dismissing your concern.

Coriolanus finally fell to his knees in front of you. He’d never take such a humiliating position for anyone else. But with you, it didn’t feel humiliating. It was exhilarating, knowing he was on his knees worshiping you, but he still held all the power. It was nearly perfect.

You gasped a little when he gripped your right leg and maneuvered it over his shoulder. More of your weight rested back against the wall, unable to stand straight on just one leg.

He looked upward, watching your face the entire time as he pushed your dress up around your hips, revealing your underwear to him.

Coriolanus was so close and you had yet to move.

Words couldn’t find their way to his lips. It was all too overwhelming in the best way. His heart slamming against his rib cage was a welcome feeling, and so was the pressure on his knees.

You bucked away before his mouth could reach your core. Coriolanus didn’t think much of it. He had a lot of other images rushing through his brain. Ones he wanted to become reality.

He scooted forward and tried again, this time making contact with the layer of fabric separating him from your most intimate spot.

Coriolanus heard a choked noise from you as he ran his tongue across the front of your underwear.

Right away, he wanted more.

His hands found the material acting as a barrier and he gripped it then pulled, tearing it from you one leg at a time, exposing you to him.

Before it could fall to the ground, he caught the shredded material and stuffed it into his pocket.

He felt a bit guilty, knowing how little you all had when it came to clothing, but he wanted to do this the right way. Coriolanus wanted nothing blocking him from showing you how good he could make you feel.

As much as his eyes were tempted to linger, impatience got the best of him.

He made contact again, licking a stripe across your bare cunt. Once he got a taste, Coriolanus couldn’t hold back.

His mouth latched onto you, tongue sliding between your folds, drawing a stifled moan from you. You reached for his head, trying to knock him away, but Coriolanus persisted. His will easily overtook yours. You weren’t going to take this away from him, not when he could make you want it just as bad.

He held onto the leg over his shoulder, gripping your flesh, surely leaving bruises in his wake. He held the skirt of your dress up with the other hand. With his mouth, he devoured you. Lapping at your core like a man starved, even more so when wetness began to form.

This wasn’t something Coriolanus had done, but he knew you better than anyone. He was sure he could figure out your body. He’d dreamt about it long enough, making you fall apart for him in such an intimate way.

He soon found that to be the truth when in only a matter of minutes your body was tensing. He continued to drag his tongue across you, giving every bit of you his full attention. He liked the way your thighs quivered when his tongue brushed your clit, it gave him an excuse to hold you tighter.

Your whole body flinched suddenly, but he shoved your hips back, pinning you to the wall as he brought you to the edge

His own pants felt constricted as his senses were overwhelmed by you. Your taste, your scent, the sound of your choked down moans, your hands smacking the wall (unsure what else to do), the feel of you against his tongue and how your leg strained over his shoulder, and the sight of you when he looked up through his lashes… god, you were magnificent.

You whimpered from above, teeth digging into your bottom lip, as he finally made you come undone.

Coriolanus held you still, relishing in the way you finally jolted into his touch instead of away.

He couldn’t take his eyes off of you. You were the stuff of dreams in the most literal sense.

Your head tilted back against the wall, your ragged breaths causing your chest to rise and fall in an unsteady pattern. Your leg, still draped over his shoulder, was tense, even as he pressed a gentle kiss to your inner thigh.

A wide grin spread across Coriolanus’s face when you shivered. He couldn’t help himself. He nearly chuckled at your state, but then your hand moved to rake through his wavy locks. The sound caught in his throat as you tugged him away, finally looking down at him. The all consuming pleasure had faded into something more composed.

Coriolanus could tell how much of an effort you were making, and as your eyes struggled to focus, he briefly wondered how strong your drinks were.

“I’d like to go home now,” you said slowly, conscious not to let your voice falter.

You allowed him to help get both to your feet on the ground, but you did not touch him for the rest of the night, even when he tried to reach for you.

He was still hard behind the confines of his pants, imagining the slickness between your thighs that was the result of his actions. As you walked back through the ballroom, it took everything he had to not push you back against a nearby wall. People be damned, he wanted you more than anything.

He would press his chest to your back—no, he’d make you face him. Coriolanus wanted access to your lips so he could kiss you as much as he liked, even swallow down your moans when he lifted your dress around your stomach and—

A shiver of excitement coursed through Coriolanus’s body. What would your darling Sejanus think if he knew what just transpired? If he knew it was only for your dignity that Coriolanus wasn’t fucking you against the wall hard enough that you forgot where you even were?

You silently bid the party a farewell, forgetting to say goodbye to Sejanus (Coriolanus made no attempts to remind you). You continued to ignore him, hardly speaking and not even looking his way. Not as you walked from the school to the apartment. Stumbling up the stairs, you only spoke to claim you were fine as you gripped the handrail for dear life. Then you went back to silence as you traveled from the front door to your bedroom and locked the door.

Coriolanus only found out about the door because he’d tried to follow you in, but the door knob did not budge. You never used your lock.

Even if you weren’t ready to finish what had been started, it was still incredibly cold. Were you really upset enough to deprive him of your presence until the morning?

“What’s going on with you?” Coriolanus asked through the layer of wood. The taste of you still lingered on his tongue as it traced his bottom lip, waiting for your response. “Can we talk? Can you open the door?”

He gripped the knob tighter and tried again. It wasn’t going to suddenly unlock, but something urged him to prove it.

There was a faint thud as his forehead fell to the door, much as it had to yours not too long ago.

“Can I at least say goodnight to you?”

Again, no response.

He swallowed. Cleared his throat.

Again.

“Please?”

If they could afford to fix it, Coriolanus would break the door down.

He wasn’t sure how long he stood outside your door before begrudgingly going to his own room.

He laid in his bed and fished the underwear from his pocket. Your scent still lingered on them, and it was enough to fuel his imagination as he unbuttoned his pants and pretended his own hand on his cock was yours.

Even after finishing, Coriolanus had a nearly sleepless night. His mind was plagued with memories of his lips on yours, your dress bunched around your hips, him on his knees with his mouth on your cunt. He’d never forget the sounds you made.

When the sun rose, he returned to your door, only to find it still locked. He didn’t even knock, just simply grabbed the door knob and twisted.

You always woke up early for school, putting yourself together in a way that could reflect wealth that you did not truly have. Coriolanus was sure you did it for his sake, knowing how much appearances mattered to him.

You were good to him like that.

If only you’d let him in now.

The laugh that escaped him lacked humor. It was a bitter, frustrated sound.

His hands rested on his hips, his own fingertips pressing in. It was that or gripping the door knob and if he touched that thing again and found it locked…

“This isn’t funny anymore, Y/N,” Coriolanus called through the door. “If there’s a problem we can talk about it. Just stop acting like a child.”

“What, did she steal your blazer again?” Tigris wondered, appearing out of nowhere. Despite her voice being soft with sleep, Coriolanus was still startled.

“No, just a minor disagreement,” Coriolanus replied, quick on his feet as always. “Nothing to worry about, I’m sure we’ll talk it out.”

He emphasized the word ‘talk’, hoping you’d hear him through the door. If you did, he wouldn’t know. Tigris, on the other hand, just nodded and headed for the kitchen.

The smile he gave his cousin on her way was forced. She couldn’t tell that his teeth were clenched together, which was for the best.

A thought dawned on him. You could just be testing him.

Coriolanus knocked on the door and waited, like he’d just solved your puzzle.

What was that thing about insanity—trying the same thing over and over and expecting a different result?

“You’re going to have to come out of your room at some point,” he reminded, trying his best to make it not sound like a warning.

Coriolanus wasn’t used to being frustrated with you. You were usually his relief from people who made him feel this way. He didn’t understand why everything changed all of the sudden.

You’d enjoyed yourself while he got what he wanted. Why was that so bad?

You had always been an enigma, but Coriolanus felt as if he’d come to understand you—that he was the only one who did or would.

Sejanus would never know you the way he did, that was for certain.

From in your room, Coriolanus heard movement. Your dresser opening, maybe. It didn’t matter. You were awake. And ignoring him.

“Y/N? I know you’re awake.” The neediness in his voice was embarrassing. No one else could make him resort to this. “I can hear you. Are you coming out?”

“What is going on?” Grandma’am questioned, standing at the end of the hall. “You aren’t dressed for school. We can’t have you being late.”

Coriolanus looked down at himself. He’d gone to sleep in the outfit he’d worn the night before, and still wore it now.

Arguments died in his throat. You and Coriolanus walked to the academy together. You’d have to come out and talk to him. Grandma’am would drive you crazy if you missed a day of classes.

In record time, Coriolanus was in his uniform.

He might’ve been quick, but apparently you were quicker. As he opened the door to his room, he heard the front door shut.

“Whatever you did, Coryo, apologize,” Tigris advised when he chased the sound of your exit.

Coriolanus just looked at her. Why on Earth would he do that? He’d done nothing wrong.

Down the stairs and out of the building, Coriolanus finally—finally—got a glimpse of you. A flash of red as you turned the corner, setting off down the sidewalk.

It took nothing for him to catch up to you.

“How are you feeling?” he wondered first, recalling your drunken state. “I was worried about you.”

“Were you?” you challenged, eyes forward.

It was good to hear your voice, but Coriolanus furrowed his brows at your tone. You had no reason to be this rude.

“Of course I was, Y/N. How can you even ask me that?” His hand dropped to your shoulder, only for you to shrug it away. “What is wrong with you?”

You looked at him, finally, but the emotion in your gaze… there was something wrong with it. Something distant, lacking the affection those beautiful eyes of yours usually held for him.

Coriolanus swallowed.

“Are you really going to be like this? Is it because of Sejanus? You don’t have to be with him anymore.”

You turned your head forward.

“Leave me alone, I’d like to walk in silence.”

Since when had you become so spiteful? Coriolanus didn’t like it. It evoked something similar in him. He leaned down, getting near your ear.

“You liked it, I know you did,” he hissed out. Coriolanus hadn’t meant for it to come out so harsh, but you were being completely unfair to him right now. “You can’t lie to me.”

Despite the way you shuddered, your jaw remained clenched. You not talking to him was more infuriating than if you had screamed in his face. At least that way he could tell what you were thinking. But no, you wouldn’t allow him to be privy to your inner thoughts, no matter how much effort he put into prying them from you.

It wasn’t a conversation for the public, even Coriolanus knew that, so when you got to the academy a few steps ahead of him, he bit his tongue.

“What did you do to piss off your sister?” Clemensia asked him in a whisper in class. “You’re usually attached at the hip walking in.”

The way she called you his sister felt wrong in a way that it hadn’t before. Even if he never thought it fit when people would say that or assume it, something had shifted.

And was it that obvious? Coriolanus hadn’t even brought it up. He’d simply been a few steps behind you into the classroom. You’d gone to your desk without a word. Was that strange to everyone else too? It was validating, in a way, to know your behavior was, in fact, targeted and odd, but it also made him wonder what the two of you appeared to be from an outside perspective.

“It’s nothing,” Coriolanus lied to her under his breath, keeping his eyes on his paper.

“So you didn’t get into a fight?”

Coriolanus’s brows curved down. He glanced her way.

“A fight?”

“Arachne and Festus saw you pull her away from Sejanus and disappear somewhere last night.”

It was mostly the truth, but she said it so nonchalantly. She couldn’t know what happened after you disappeared. Coriolanus hadn’t seen a single person lay their eyes on either of you in that private moment.

“I get it,” she continued. “I wouldn’t want to be associated with someone from the districts either. She’s not thinking about how she’ll be perceived, or you. Don’t let her drag you down.”

Coriolanus just listened, the night flashing through his mind. No one could’ve known, there was no way.

He quickly corrected the hypocrisy in his own mind. He hadn’t done anything wrong, it was just private. No one else deserved to see you in that state—no one but him.

“We’re fine,” Coriolanus told her. “And her and Sejanus aren’t together anymore.”

Clemensia smirked to herself. “Good.”

Word spread quickly, and with the way you avoided Sejanus—a byproduct of you avoiding Coriolanus—everyone believed it. The final nail was the way you failed to appear at lunch. It got under Sejanus’s skin, causing him to question the state of your relationship without you to answer any said questions.

Truthfully, Coriolanus hadn’t seen anything as amusing in a long while, but your absence weighed on him, too.

The walk home alone was dreadful without you. Even in the morning when you had ignored him, it was better than you being completely gone.

When he got home, your door was shut. How quickly had you left your classes, how fast had you walked, all to avoid him?

This was growing old very, very quickly.

Grandma’am was on the roof with her roses, and Tigris seemed to be missing from the apartment. It was only because of that that Coriolanus devised a way to get into your room.

Why he didn’t think of picking the lock before, Coriolanus supposed it was because he thought you’d give in quicker and let him get the better of you. You were usually weak to him, allowing him to get his way without a problem. You had before.

“Last chance,” Coriolanus called through the locked door. He almost thought that would be enough. He wanted you to open it of your own will. “You can’t avoid me forever, just let me in.”

No such luck.

You looked surprised when he forced the door open, as if you really believed he would just take the loss. You were supposed to know him better than that.

You’d been sitting on your bed in pajamas, evidently already done with the day. Your legs were criss-crossed with a textbook in your lap. You looked up at him, a questioning expression taking over your features.

“What are you doing, Coryo?” you asked, voice low, eyes not quite meeting his directly.

“You weren’t opening the door.” Coriolanus squared his shoulders. “I wanted to talk to you.”

You shook your head, something between a sigh and a laugh escaping you in a puff of air. Coriolanus did not like the accusatory undertone.

“Did you think maybe I left it locked on purpose?” Were you mocking him? “That I wasn’t lying this morning and I really don’t want to speak to you?”

“That’s ridiculous,” Coriolanus insisted, closing your door behind him. He moved towards your bed, watching your body language the entire time as he finally sat on the edge beside you. “You thought I would just let you ignore me?”

You swallowed, closing the book in your lap. “I guess not,” you admitted, setting the textbook aside. “I am well aware of your ego.”

A frown crested Coriolanus’s lip. “Is that what this is—you want to hurt me?”

You tilted your head, catching his gaze, much like he’d made you do the night before. It was the first time in nearly a day since you’d looked him dead in the eye.

“What do you want, Coryo?”

“I want you”

“You want me to what? Not be with Sejanus? Is that it? Is that why you did what you did?”

“You say that like it was something awful. I was there too.” Coriolanus felt a familiar heat rush through him at the memory. “I know what I saw.”

“You humiliated me.”

“In front of who? No one saw us.”

“That’s not the point.”

“Then what is? Because you know Sejanus is weak?” Coriolanus searched your eyes and leaned in closer. He was feeling antagonistic. “I mean, how could he touch you, knowing I got there first?”

Coriolanus caught your hand as you raised it, presumably to strike him.

“Is that what we’ve resorted to?”

He squeezed your wrist, enough to cause pain. You winced and tried to move away, but Coriolanus wasn’t going to let you get away.

“I could ask you the same,” you sneered, sounding like an entirely different person.

“What has happened to you?” Coriolanus questioned. He took a breath. “Do you want me to be sorry for what I’ve said? Fine, then, I apologize. But I’m not sorry for what I’ve done. You should not be with him.”

“I’m supposed to believe someone driven by jealousy?” you inquired back, blinking back tears. Why were you being so dramatic? “How can I trust anything you have to say to me now?”

Coriolanus was taken aback by the question. Did you really not trust him anymore? Even with the tight hold on your wrist, he could feel you slipping from his grasp. If you were to leave him, he’d never forgive the universe for its twisted irony. Coriolanus put so much time and care into you because he wanted you. His family didn’t, at least not at first, but even so, you’d have nothing if it wasn’t for him. Is that what you wanted to leave him with now? Nothing? Nothing but the memory of when you were his?

No, that wouldn’t do.

It just wouldn’t.

“You can trust me, I promise,” Coriolanus insisted, pleading, even. “I love you, I always have—you can’t have expected me to sit back and do nothing while you…”

You looked more betrayed, if that was even possible. He was trying to make it better but explaining was only making it worse. Coriolanus had never met a person where the more he talked, the more he tried to persuade them, they believed him less. In that way again you were an anomaly.

If Coriolanus couldn’t tell you, he could show you. He had to make you understand—he could salvage this and get what he wanted in the end. If he was anything, it was persistent. It had worked before, excluding the aftermath.

Coriolanus moved, keeping his hold on your wrist as he shoved you down, pulling himself up and then on top of you in a fluid motion.

You squirmed, questioning, “What are you doing?”

Coriolanus caught your other hand and brought it to join your other wrist he already had a hold of in one hand. He straddled your waist, keeping your body pinned.

“You won’t listen to me,” he pointed out. Something inside him urged him to lean down. “But I can still prove it to you, that it’s me you should be with. No one else.”

Then he crashed his lips onto yours. It was more forceful than it had been the previous night, ensuring you couldn’t turn away again. His tongue was already in your mouth before you thought to turn your head.

It didn’t matter if you didn’t kiss him back, Coriolanus was in bliss. Your lips were soft, molding perfectly to his. You moaned into his mouth, or maybe it was a protest, but it made his body heat up all the same. Coriolanus couldn’t get enough of you. Last night left him wanting more, not less.

More than that, he was determined. When he finally detached his lips from yours, the both of you panting, Coriolanus set forth on a track that wouldn’t allow him to turn around.

Even if he tried to take it back, everything would already be changed.

So he didn’t even bother hesitating. Coriolanus was determined, even, at yanking your clothes from your body.

Your words were jumbled by the time they reached his ears. His own heart racing with excitement drowned out any requests you had for him.

The word “stop” left his vocabulary until you yelled it too loud for his liking.

Your whole body shook when he clapped his hand over your mouth. Your top was completely gone, your chest heaving as you breathed through your nose. While Coriolanus could’ve easily been distracted by your state, he trained his eyes on your wide ones.

The word helpless crossed his mind, and he had to take a moment to control himself.

“Grandma’am is upstairs,” Coriolanus finally warned, voice low. “Don’t disturb her.”

You blinked. Coriolanus was almost surprised by the way you settled down, but it told him you understood the implications of alerting her.

Your position beneath Coriolanus had to be better than starving and cold on the street, didn’t it?

You didn’t have Sejanus anymore. If you thought you did, Coriolanus would make sure to remedy that with his friend before you got to him first.

As Coriolanus lifted his hand from your mouth, he silently implored he was the only one who could save you from being branded a liar.

Just as Coriolanus had always admired, you were a quick learner. As heartbroken as you looked, you didn’t raise your voice again.

“This isn’t how you make me want to be with you,” you pleaded. Coriolanus wasn’t sure whether to laugh or take it as a challenge.

“We’ll see,” he mused in response.

He got you bare, and then himself.

You averted your eyes from his body, which offended him more than he thought it would.

“You can look,” Coriolanus said, voice heavy.

Something about his voice must’ve gotten to you, because your eyes flicked between his legs. You swallowed and looked back away.

A prideful smirk overtook Coriolanus’s face.

He moved then, still keeping hold on your wrists in one hand, dragging them down over your belly, and placed himself between your legs.

With one hand still holding your wrists, Coriolanus shoved his other hand in between your legs, two prodding fingers finding your entrance before making their way in. Eagerness won out over his patience. He could take things slow later.

You tensed around him, fighting the intrusion, but he wasn’t going to let you win. Even if you weren’t squirming against him, you were resistant. Coriolanus slowly worked at breaking your resolve, massaging his fingers inside your walls, thumb on your clit.

He could see shame wash over your features when a wetness began to form, coating his fingers and allowing him to work you open for him.

“See, you can lie to me, but your body can’t,” Coriolanus asserted, voice thick with arousal.

That triggered something in you, and perhaps Coriolanus reacted too harshly.

It felt like it all happened in a flash. One moment you were on your back, beneath him, clenching around his fingers, and the next he had to manhandle you onto your chest and knees to fend off your attack and keep you still. He regained his hold on your hands quickly, pinning them behind your back while you panted from the short lived exertion.

Coriolanus leaned down to press his lips to your ear.

“I thought we agreed you weren’t going to fight me,” he growled.

Your shoulders shifted as you found further discomfort in your new position, but you didn’t speak. You wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of your voice—just like before.

Coriolanus wanted to watch your face as you submitted to him and his love for you, but if this was the only way he could have you for now, so be it.

He lined himself up with your entrance, enjoying the twitch of your body as he pressed the tip in.

Despite all the effort to get you where you were now, Coriolanus slid his cock into you with ease. Your body welcomed him, even if you didn’t.

He couldn’t help himself, his hips bucked forward, shoving himself into you deep. You whimpered into the pillow and Coriolanus’s mind went blank for a moment, basking in the feel of your warm cunt around him. It was better than he imagined.

His cock twitched inside of you, eager to fill you, but he had to make this last. Just like before, Coriolanus wanted to make you feel good. So good you had no choice but to want him.

Coriolanus drew his hips back after a few moments of just resting inside you. When only the tip remained, he thrust forward. Your body rocked against the mattress.

He did it again, this time slower. Forcing you to feel the drag of his thick cock inside of you. Coriolanus liked the way your body quivered as you succumbed to the pleasure he could give you.

You felt like heaven, all wet and warm and squeezing around him in a way that made him want to never leave you.

To show he trusted you, Coriolanus let your hands go. They immediately fell to grip the pillow beneath your head. You didn’t go to fight him and that counted for something. He had an ulterior motive, though, because now he could hold your hips with both hands.

He leaned down, pressing kisses to your back. He ran his hands along your skin, drinking the entirety of you in as he moved inside of you.

His movements were a bit slow, calculated, making you feel every inch of him stretching you out. Coriolanus imagined you rocking your hips back, your moans filling the room, eager for more. That would have to be saved for another time when you were more willing.

You body tensed and shivered, and Coriolanus knew you were getting close. You still had yet to speak.

It was petty, the sudden sharp thrust of his hips to shove his cock deep and hard into you.

A gasp—he drew a gasp from you.

He allowed his weight to fully fall on top of you, finally. Your skin was so warm on his chest, it was as if your body was trying to burn him off of you. Maybe it was all in his head. But it didn’t really matter. It was far too late for that.

“It’s okay to want it,” Coriolanus muttered into your ear.

He felt your body reacting and you were moments away from what he’d been pushing you towards. His thrusts grew shallow, not letting too much of himself leave you as you finally came undone.

You buried your face into the pillow, muffling your cry as you finally came around his cock. It was then that he got what he wanted, even if it was only brief. Your body spasmed and pushed back, trying to feel every inch of him stretching you out, clenching down to hold him there.

Coriolanus followed you soon after, cock throbbing in your walls, spilling inside of you and painting them white. He held your hips so tight he was sure he’d leave bruises as he held himself still, letting the both of you experience the sensation in full.

After however long—Coriolanus didn’t count the minutes—he withdrew from your body. He was a gentleman, so he helped you to lay down before your body collapsed on its own.

He laid down beside you, pulling your blanket over the top of both of your bodies with the intention to bring you comfort.

You were wordless, rolling onto your side, facing away from him.

Coriolanus turned with you, wrapping his arms around your midsection and pulling you back to him. He pressed a kiss to the back of your head before resting his lips near your ear.

“Do you really think not talking to me is the best idea?” he whispered, less frustrated than before.

You shook in his arms, but your voice was steady as you asked, “What do you expect me to say to you?”

Coriolanus didn’t have to think all that long.

“That you love me.”

You were silent for a moment, Coriolanus thought he was going to have to repeat himself.

“I did love you,” you uttered, voice threatening to break. “But it wasn’t enough for you.”

Coriolanus could’ve been angry, but he knew he’d win you back. He had all the time in the world, knowing you wouldn’t dare continue your relationship with Sejanus. How could you? You were already spoken for.

You were Coriolanus’s, you always had been. He realized it before you, but he knew you’d come to learn the truth. You’d accept it eventually, and everything would fall into place exactly as he wanted.

[maysileeewrites]

GUILTY AS SIN?

Jacaerys Velaryon x fem!Targ!reader || 18+; MDNI!

Synopsis: Jacaerys hadn’t meant to watch you. He hadn’t meant to interfere, either. Yet here he is, on his knees in front of you, finally claiming what’s his - honor and propriety be damned. 

c.w.: smutty smut!! (fem masturbation + Jace watching reader without her knowing it at first, so some  slight dubcon elements?; piv sex, unprotected sex, implied loss of virginity, oral (f! receiving), hair-pulling, mild breeding kink, mild praise kink, soft!dom Jace) Targcest - Jace and reader are cousins (&that’s the closest degree of incest I’ll write); infidelity 

word count: 4.2k (oops??) || Jacaerys masterlist

AN: I really don’t know what came over me, this really is just filth with barely any plot, someone please get me some holy water so I can cleanse my mind from these thoughts … Also, I love Baela, but for the prospect of some forbidden love, we’re gonna have to go behind her back here. 

Jacaerys hadn’t meant to watch you. 

Truly, his only intention in coming to your chambers had been to check up on you, seeing as you’d been so unusually quiet and withdrawn during dinner. 

He wasn’t prepared for what awaited him when he cautiously opened your door after you hadn’t answered either or his tentative knocks. 

The sight before him had him frozen in shock, rooted to the spot. 

You - stretched out on your bed, wearing nothing but your thin nightdress that had already slipped away in some places, revealing your breasts as well as the soft skin of your upper thighs - and your swollen core, already leaking slick. 

Jacaerys couldn’t help himself - he stood, transfixed, watching as your back arched off the bed, your fingers desperately moving in and out of your cunt. 

He shouldn’t watch. He should go, now. 

This was wrong on so many levels, he tried to remind himself. 

But he couldn’t bring himself to do anything but watch, mesmerized, as your fingers moved in and out of your core in a desperate pace. Greedily, he took in every breathy little moan, every squelching sound your cunt made. 

This was wrong, so wrong. 

This was a private moment he’d never been meant to witness, and oh - there was also the small problem of you being his fiancee’s sister. 

He should go, now. 

Your eyes were closed, so you hadn’t seen him yet, but still, he couldn’t bring himself to move. 

It’s what he should have done, what he should still do, but he can’t bring himself to look away from you. 

Jacaerys doesn’t know how long he’s been standing here, watching in a desperate, heady fascination as you desperately try to bring yourself to satisfaction. 

He knows that it’s wrong, that he shouldn’t be watching you, should have turned around the second he saw what you were doing, but he doesn’t care. 

Honor and propriety be damned, he thinks as he runs a hand through his dark curls in distress, feeling his breeches growing tighter by the second. 

Just then, you moan, loudly and desperately. 

„Jacaerys.“ 

Jacaerys’ eyes widen in shock, and he can’t help himself, he steps even closer towards your bed. 

Again, you moan his name, your face screwing up in pleasure. 

He feels his heart beating faster, his breath becoming more and more erratic. 

Your movements have become even more desperate, you’re rocking back and forth on your bed, your fingers desperately trying to chase your high. 

The only sounds filling the room are your whiny, desperate moans and the squelching sounds your cunt makes. 

Jacaerys knows that he shouldn’t be here, shouldn’t be watching you, but he can’t help himself greedily drinking in every one of your breathless moans, and every single move of your fingers. 

„Oh Jacaerys, please-“

There’s his name again, this time followed by a broken moan and he bites down hard on his lips, desperately fighting the urge to move his hand down to his now impossibly tight breeches. 

„Jace, oh gods-“

Hearing you moan his name like that breaks something within him. Caution and thought are forgotten. Instead, what remains are only his yearning and desperate desire to finally claim you as his. 

He can’t contain himself no longer, can no longer ignore the sensation of his breeches feeling so impossibly tight, can no longer ignore all the desperate, lust-driven thoughts running through his head. 

„Don’t stop, Princess.“ 

You hadn’t mean for this to happen. 

You’d never intended to lose control like that, to behave so wantonly and improper. 

But after seeing them laughing together at dinner, seeing the way he’d so easily leaned into her touch, seeing that easy understanding between them, seeing the way his eyes seemingly lit up with warmth whenever your sister so much as looked at him, you hadn’t been able to stand this gnawing feeling of desperation no longer. 

Quietly, you’d excused yourself from the table, walking to your chambers. 

But neither the warm bath your maids drew you, not the book you tried to immerse yourself in could ease that itch underneath your skin. 

Baela is your sister and Jacaerys is her betrothed and you should be happy for them, happy for the fine match they make. 

But instead, the only thing you feel is jealousy and this consuming, all-encompassing desire for Jacaerys. 

Your sister’s fiancé, yes, yet the only man you’ve ever desired. 

And so, you’d found yourself tossing and turning in your bed, until you’d frustratedly thrown your sheets to the side. 

Biting down hard on your lip and drowning in guilt and shame, your hand had moved between your legs, and as you’d started to pleasure yourself, you started to imagine yourself in Baela’s stead. 

You were the one Jacaerys would marry. 

You were the one sitting next to him at dinner, laughing and talking and it was your touch he leaned into so easily. 

It was your touch he craved, and your pleasure he wanted to bring about. 

These were his hands on you, his fingers moving in and out of you, bringing you to bliss in a rough, desperate pace. 

His lips were leaving featherlight kisses all over your body - your lips, your neck, your breasts, your stomach - while he continued to pleasure you. 

And you were so caught up in chasing your fantasies and your pleasure that you didn’t hear the quiet, tentative knock on your door, neither the sound of your door opening. 

You still haven’t noticed Jacaerys, too caught up in the heat building and building and building in your stomach to notice him walking closer towards your bed, running a hand through his hair in distress. 

The sound of your moans covers his own erratic breathing, you’re too lost in the throes of pleasure to notice anything else besides the fire slowly building within you. 

Until you moan his name. 

„Jace, oh gods-“

A shuffling sound, like someone fixing their clothes, followed by a quiet sigh. Your own? 

„Don’t stop, Princess.“ 

You open your eyes in shock.  

Panting and breathless, you both stare at each other. 

„Jacaerys“, is the only thing you manage to get out, your voice breathless. 

Holding your gaze, Jacaerys starts unbuttoning his coat. 

„Don’t stop“, he repeats, and there’s a certainty and sense of authority to his voice you’ve never heard before. 

And you’re so surprised, so overwhelmed by all these different emotions coursing through you - shame and anxiety upon being discovered by him of all people, yet there’s still your undying desire for him, and heat is still pooling in your stomach, you’re so close - that you do exactly as he says. 

You pick up your pace again, burying your fingers within your cunt again, all the while looking at Jacaerys who’s biting down hard on his lips. 

You’re all too conscious of your nearly naked body and the squelching sounds your cunt makes as you continue to move your fingers in and out of yourself, but then Jacaerys groans loudly, running a hand through his hair, all while still holding your gaze, and all your self-consciousness is forgotten. 

„By the Seven, you’re incredible, Princess“, he breathes. 

His voice breaks something within you, and all you can do is give in to the mounting pleasure. 

Your eyes never leave Jacaerys’ as you continue to pleasure yourself, your fingers moving in and out of your cunt, your other hand gripping tightly onto the bedsheets. 

Jacaerys waches you, greedily taking every little movement, every single one of your broken moans in, as he continues to undress himself. 

His shirt. 

His belt. 

His boots. 

When it’s just his breeches, hanging low on his hips, remaining, he closes the last bit of distance between you, sitting down at the edge of your bed. 

For a moment, you stop in your ministrations, too distracted by him. He’s perfect, his chest toned and muscular, just like a sculpted statue. 

But then your eyes land on the visible bulge in his breeches and your breath hitches. Suddenly, your fingers aren’t enough anymore, you want, no need to see him, feel him filling you up. 

„Jace, oh gods-“

Another broken whimper leaves your mouth, and blindly, you reach out for Jacaerys with your free hand. His hand finds yours, and he interlaces your fingers together, his grip strong and sure and steadying as the heat building in your belly becomes almost too much to bear. 

„Jace, I can’t - please“ 

By this point, you’re an incoherent, whimpering mess, and besides his hand gripping yours, he hasn’t even touched you yet. Just then, he leans down, his free hand tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear. 

„That’s it, Princess, come for me“, he whispers, before he lowers his lips to your neck. 

The added sensation of his lips sucking on the sensitive skin of your neck is too much, and so, you follow his command. 

Your back arches off the bed and you hold on to Jacaerys’ hand for dear life as something within you unravels and white hot pleasure washes over you. 

You’ve never felt this way before, could have never even imagined that something like this could even feel so good. 

When it’s over, you fall back onto the sheets, panting. When you open your eyes again, you immediately find Jacaerys’ gaze. The realization of what just happened washing over you. Seven hells, you just pleasured yourself with your sister’s fiancé watching you, guiding you through it. 

But then you see your own burning desire mirrored in his dark brown eyes, and any thoughts of shame, guilt and regret are forgotten, at least for the moment. 

You’ve long since passed the point of no return, and so, you don’t even hesitate before winding your arms around Jacaerys’ neck and pulling him down for a kiss. 

He makes a soft, surprised noise, but that’s as much of an upper hand he’s willing to give you, because immediately the kiss feels fiery and hungry. The way his lips move against yours is almost bruising, and when he coaxes you to open your mouth, all you can do is comply as his tongue claims you. 

One of his hands starts moving over your breasts, making you whimper when he pinches one of your nipples between his fingers, and then gently rolls the stiffened bud between his fingers. His other hand starts moving lower, first over your stomach and your lower abdomen, but then his fingers move over the inner sides of your thighs and your breath hitches in anticipation. 

Jacaerys immediately notices your reaction, breaking away from the kiss for a moment to look at you. „Greedy, aren’t you?“ 

„Jacaerys, please“, you whisper, your hands moving to tangle themselves in his hair and when you tug at his dark curls, he lets out a pleased groan, and you know that he’s yearning for this to happen as much as you are. „I want you, Jacaerys. So take me, make me yours, claim me-“

The rest of your words are swallowed by another hungry kiss and a broken moan leaving your mouth when his hand cups your clit, his fingers moving over you swollen, already overstimulated bundle of nerves.

Gone is the gentle and composed Jacaerys, the regal prince that carries himself with poise, elegance and grace. Left in his place is a desperate man, slave to his most primal desires, yearning to finally make his longings come true. 

His kiss continues to leave you dizzy, and combined with the sensation of his hand drawing teasing circles over your clit, you feel the heat begin to pool in your stomach again.  

Just then, Jacaerys moves, shifting in his position, and you whimper when you can feel his erection straining against your stomach. 

Panting, you break the kiss, looking at him. „Jace-“

He smirks. „Patience, Princess. I want to taste you first.“

Your eyes widen and you can feel blood rushing to your cheeks as the full meaning of his words sink in. This is beyond your wildest fantasies, even. When you’d imagined yourself with Jacaerys, he was always the one taking you, in various positions, and sometimes he even had you on your knees, pleasuring him with your mouth. 

„But - but what about you, Jace?“, you whisper, eyes searching his. 

At your words, his eyes visibly soften for a moment, and he leans down to press a soft kiss to the corner of your mouth. „Don’t worry about that yet“, he says, looking at you again, before slowly moving down your body. „But do tell me if something I do is not to your liking“, he adds, the gentler, more composed side of him returning for a brief moment. 

You nod, though you can’t imagine in the slightest that that might be the case. 

When he sees you nod so urgently, Jacaerys just smirks. 

He doesn’t say anything else, instead, he lets his lips and hands speak for him.

As he starts to kiss his way down your body, leaving featherlight kisses on your neck, your sternum, your breasts - which has your breath hitching and your grip on his dark curls tightening - your stomach, your lower abdomen, your hips; his hands continue to move over your body, one hand occupied with your breasts, the other still between your legs, still drawing teasing circles over your clit. 

„Jace“, you moan, when he leaves featherlight kisses on the inner sides of your thighs, all the while continuing to tease your bundle of nerves with his fingers, but not doing anything else just yet. 

And just when you think that you can’t take any more of his teasing, he sucks your clit into his mouth, before his tongue dives between your folds. 

„Oh, oh gods-“, you moan, grip on his dark curls tightening. 

This is so much better than your own fingers could ever be. 

The arrogant, knowing smirk Jacaerys gives you as his tongue continues to move in and out of your core tells you that he knows exactly the effect he has a you, and he enjoys it. 

He’ll ruin you for any other man - in more ways than just the obvious - and he’ll ruin any other man for you, but you don’t care. 

Can’t bring yourself to care as his tongue continues to work you up to a frenzy, while he applies pressure to your bundle of his nerves with his thumb. 

The heat is building and building and building, and you can feel that it won’t take much more for the coil you snap. 

Just then, his tongue reaches a particular spot that has you seeing stars, and you moan, eyes screwing shut in pleasure. 

„Yes, right there, please, Jacaerys, please-“, you whimper incoherently, hands tugging at his hair in a desperate attempt to ground yourself. 

He continues to lap at you in earnest, reaching that spot again and again and again, you don’t think you can handle much more of this. The building pressure is too much to bear, and just then, Jacaerys’ tongue reaches that spot again, and you break. 

Dizzying waves of pleasure wash over you, threatening you to drown you, as your back arches of the bed again and something inside of you explodes. 

Jacaerys takes it all, takes everything you give him, the harsh tugs on his dark curls, your legs shaking, and your juices flooding his mouth. He takes it all, greedily drinking in every last drop. 

„Oh, seven hells“, you pant weakly, falling back into the sheets, your whole body feeling like jelly. 

Your second orgasm leaves you much more wrecked and spent than your first, and you don’t even notice Jacaerys moving up again, until you feel his fingers gently stroke over your cheek. 

„You’re amazing, Princess“, he tells you. 

You open your eyes again to see him leaning over you, his lips still covered with your juices, his nose still glistening with it as well. To you, he’s never looked more beautiful than in this moment, and so you don’t even hesitate before pulling him down for another kiss. 

It’s messy, with strings of your slick still connected to his lips, and you think that it should feel weird that you can taste yourself on his lips, but it doesn’t, it just feels utterly amazing. 

And even though just mere seconds ago, you’ve been trying to catch your breath, feeling your heartbeat accelerate, it’s you that deepens the kiss, you, who boldly moves a hand between you, cupping his clothed erection. 

Now that you’ve had a taste, you feel that you won’t be able to stop until you’ve had it all, until you’ve felt him, really felt him, move inside you, filling you up to the brink. 

Jacaerys groans when your fingers move over his clothed erection, his kiss turning even more desperate, until he breaks away, panting. 

„Are you sure?“, he asks you, leaning his forehead against yours, looking down at you with pure, unfiltered desire in his eyes. 

You nod, moving your fingers over him. 

He groans again, but when his eyes find yours again, there’s a dark edge to them. „Are you sure? Sure you can take another one?“ 

Oh gods. His words, and the dark, sinister tone in which he says them has you biting down on your bottom lip. 

You nod, again, and finally Jacaerys gives in, leaving another bruising kiss on your lips before sitting up and taking his breeches and small clothes off. 

You watch him, too afraid to even blink, and when your eyes finally land on his erection, you swallow, whimpering. He’s so big - when he finally claims you it will surely feel like being speared open. 

And yet, your desire once again wins out, as you reach out your hand once again, cupping his now bare member. 

„Fuck“, Jacaerys groans, his eyes screwing shut in pleasure. 

This only spurs your confidence, and now, feeling bold, and driven by this all-encompassing desire for Jacaerys, you begin stroking his member up and down in earnest, your thumb stroking over the tip, sticky with his pre-cum. 

Jacaerys groans, driving his hips up into your hand. His hands settle on your waist once again, and his grip turns almost painfully harsh as you continue to edge him on. 

Just then, he slaps your hand away, pressing a gentle kiss to the corner of your mouth. „Keep doing that and I won’t last much longer, Princess“, he says, his voice oddly strained. 

His brown eyes find yours once again, and in them, you same the same desire and longing you feel mirrored back at you. 

„But-“, you start to protest, but Jacaerys immediately silences you with a finger to your lips. 

„Some other time“, he promises you, and you seem to light up at his words. You know that this should never have happened and that there should never ever even be another time, but just the prospect of that excites you. 

„And you promised me another one, didn’t you?“ 

And just like that, all the gentle playfulness has vanished from his words, leaving only lust and desire in its place. 

You nod, biting down hard on your bottom lip, as Jacaerys positions himself at your entrance. 

You watch, entranced, as he guides his member into you. But then, almost immediately, you hiss in pain when he breaches your walls. It’s not much more than the tip, but still, this so different from your fingers or his tongue. 

Jacaerys stops, leaning down to kiss you. The kiss is gentle and soft, and you wind your arms around his neck again, finding both comfort and solace in it. And the longer you kiss him, the more you get used to the feeling of him inside you. 

In fact, it’s you, crossing your legs behind his back, guiding him deeper inside you. The sensation is still somewhat uncomfortable, but Jacaerys’ loud, satisfied moan and the kiss that’s already turned deeper and more passionate, distract you from the pain, and as Jacaerys continues to sink even deeper into you, pain and pleasure begin to mix and you find yourself wanting more. 

And so, when he’s finally bottomed out and looks down at you, asking „Alright, Princess?“, you just tangle your hands in his dark curls again, driving your hips up to meet his. 

„Move, please“, you beg him, and Jacaerys starts to chuckle, but when you drive your hips up into him again, he groans, the feeling of friction too delicious to ignore. 

Jacaerys begins moving in and out of you slowly, his hips driving into you in a leisurely pace - pulling all the way out of you, before slowly sinking back down again. 

It’s torture, this pace he’s setting. The heat in your lower stomach is building and building again, but with the pace Jace is setting, it seems as if you’ll never reach the boiling point. You try to meet his movements, moving your hips up and down, but Jacaerys soon catches on to what you’re doing and his hands settle at your waist with a tight grip, keeping you in place. 

„Jace, please“, you beg, tugging at his dark curls. 

He groans, losing control for a moment, and thrusting into you harshly. The new pace and intensity has you crying out in pleasure, but then it’s back to long, slow thrusts and you feel as if you could cry from frustration. 

„Jace, please, just - just fuck me, don’t hold back“, you beg him, your grip on his hair tightening. That, combined with your words finally gets his attention, and when he looks down at you again, there’s a new, dark gleam in his eyes. It’s as dangerous as it is alluring, and you feel completely caught up in his trap. 

„Oh, so it’s like that, Princess?“, he says, his hips snapping into yours, and you cry out from the intensity. „You want me to fuck you, want me to fill you up, is that it?“

He doesn’t leave you any chance to answer him, his hips now snapping into yours with abandon, his cock driving into you with an intensity and pace that has you seeing stars. One of your hands stays buried in his dark brown curls, while the other moves towards his upper back. 

For a moment, you worry about your fingernails leaving scratches on his back - but another particularly harsh thrust of his, combined with the sensation of one of his hands slowly moving towards your core quickly has you forgetting any thoughts not concerned with the current moment. 

His pace now is brutal and you hold on to him for dear life as his hips piston into you, his cock continuing to spear you open. 

„Jace, oh gods-“, you breathe out, biting down on your lower lip.

When he sees this gesture, Jacaerys just shakes his head, his free hand moving up to cup your cheek. „Don’t. Don’t hold back. Let them hear.“ 

His words alone make you moan, and then, his thumb is there on your clit, steadily applying pressure as he continues to move in and out of you at a brutal pace. 

„Jace, I can’t - oh gods-“, you groan, fingernails digging into his back. 

„That’s it, Princess“, he whispers with another intense thrust, „come for me.“

And then, something within you breaks, and you come for the third time. 

Your fingernails are digging into his back, your legs locked behind his back, and as Jacaerys continues to thrust into you, he can feel your walls clenching around him, absolutely squeezing him. 

The sound of your broken voice, crying out his name, does him in and after thrusting into you once, twice, thrice more, he comes as well, shooting his hot seed into you. 

The sensation is too much for your overstimulated core, and you whimper, your eyes screwing shut, as you hold on to Jacaerys for dear life. 

Just like before, he’s there to guide you through everything - his free hand reaching out to grab the one you quickly untangle from his dark curls. 

You hold onto each other as fire washes over you, white hot waves of pleasure threatening to drown you both. 

This time, it takes you even longer to come down from your high, and when you do, your whole body feels like jelly. 

Luckily, Jacaerys is there for you. He carefully pulls out of you, before gently scooping you up in his arms, reaching out for your bedsheets and drawing them over you both. 

He presses a chaste kiss to your shoulder, the action so gentle and innocent and so unlike anything else that just transpired between you two. He reaches out for your hand with one hand, interlacing your fingers together.

„By the seven, you’re incredible Princess“, he whispers, pressing another chaste kiss to your shoulder as his free hand slowly moves down your body again. When you can feel his hand lightly moving over your core, you can’t help but whimper. 

You’re so sore and overstimulated, you’re not quite sure how much more you can take. 

„There“, Jacaerys whispers, squeezing your hand as his fingers scoop up some of his seed that’s trickled down the insides of your thighs. 

You whimper, incoherent, broken moans leaving you when you can feel his fingers pushing into you again. 

„Sh“, he whispers, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head. „I’m just making sure that we’re not wasting a single drop, Princess.“ 

So, uh, any thoughts? 👀

[oneeyedlove]

Peace.

summary | you find yourself striding towards Aemond’s chambers to confront him about his behavior at dinner, things take a turn.

pairing | Aemond Targaryen x Strong niece!reader

tags | 18+, MINORS DNI! Unprotected sex. PinV, arguing, mentions of violence, chocking, incest, creampie, cockwarming (?).

wordcount | 4.6 k

note | this is my first time writing smut so cut me some slack plss, english is not my first language and I don’t know if i like this.

The pounding of determined steps echoed through the secret tunnels of Maegor’s holdfast as you made your way towards a certain prince’s chambers. Surprised as you were that your family whistood dinner without altercations as far as they did, the feeling of hope for a truce between the opposite sides of House Targaryen died the moment that word escaped Aemond’s lips. Spiteful litte things he and Aegon were, endlessly searching for a wound to poke at— that was usually found in your brother’s tempers.

Your and your siblings’ bastardy was no secret to any soul who paid attention although it didn’t bother you in the least. Having known fatherly love from three different men as your mother’s only daughter made your upbringing eventul, but it did not stop you from becomig a bright and optmistic young woman. Said optimism being the reason why tonight’s sudden quarrel left such anguish in your heart.

Placed between Jacaerys and Aegon at the dinner table, your finger tracing the rim of the wine cup by your side, you could not help but daydream about the pleasantness of this evening extending itself into daily life. The muffled laughter Lucerys emitted pulled you back into reality and the smile faded from your face at the sight of a pig stowed before the one eyed prince. Your brown eyes met his lilac one as he stood, your pleading gaze exchanged in vain for he said the dreadful phrase regardless.

You blamed him as you paced before the hidden entrance of the silver prince’s chambers, pondering whether it would be wise to burst in unannounced— it most likely was not. Aemond was never one to display his thoughts without an ulterior motive, so invading his personal lounge would be an open attempt at understanding him, a desire you had hoped would remain silent in your heart. Against better judgment, you stepped through the stone wall by his bed. Shivering at the frigidness in your stomach, you took in the room. It looked uneasily tidy as you touched the soft linens on the bed with the tip of your fingers, thinking it was obvious the stoic prince would have an obnoxiously clean chamber. The moment your eyes found the back of his head a breath stuck in your lungs, fearing he would sense your presence.

Seated in the armchair before the fireplace, he twirled a golden coin between his knuckles, watching it’s mesmerizing choreography. Aemond had noted your presence long before you entered his apartments, the sounds of your nervous marching thundered in his ears. However, the hour of the wolf was an unexpected moment for you to come to him. He reckoned you would confront him after the events of dinner, but never would have thought to meet your scolding outside the security of daylight.

You crept further into the chamber, standing a mere five paces behind him as your heartbeat roared in your chest. If the prince had not heard you before, he certainly had now. A smirk hid from your gaze as he placed the coin on the armrest’s leather, Aemond amusingly waited your words.

“Uncle.” Your voice escaped your lips, sounding more hesitant than you intended to.

His body rigid as a pillar, the silver haired man slowly rose to his feet, his shoulders broad and muscular. He took a deep breath as he caught your eyes with his good one, his penetrating gaze watching your every move. When he finally spoke, a familiar, biting tone filled your ears.

“To what do I owe the pleasure, dear niece?”

“I wish to speak about your behavior at dinner.” As much as you tried not to sound as a wounded child, the tartness in your mouth was filled with youthful resentment.

“Are you here to yell at me, then?” He cocked his head, your eyes gleaming under the candlelight as his gaze traveled from your face to your feet, taking in your features.

The prince would never consider himself a foolish man. Every piece of him sculpted through years of exhaustive dedication, he had scraped each flawed aspect of his mind and body until it reached perfection. Aemond had disciplined his thoughts and actions towards any living creature ever since claiming Vhagar, with all but one exception: you. It was pathetic, really, how his tamed heart turned moronic in your presence. Your laughter had welded itself into his soul from the moment he first heard it as a boy, his secret devotion never surrendering to the test of time.

As if a plague crawling inside him, the yearning for your affection clouded his judgment, forcing his dutifulness out of reach. It was easy to hate Rhaenyra and her progeny, his mother had taught him their mere existence was a disgrace to the realm, a sin that tarnished the mighty House Targaryen. Nevertheless, your impertinence in addressing him this way could only lengthen his doubts — the narrative that someone withholding of such kindness and loyalty could be unholy was ludicrous in the least.

"Why must you be insufferable at all times?" You gave in to the infantile urges that plagued you, rolling your eyes at him — being almost a woman grown, it was shameful how he managed to get underneath your skin, even if you did not show it as much as your brothers.

Aemond chuckled darkly, his lips curving up in a twisted smile as he watched you. He took a step closer, his stride slow, calm, much like a hunter stalking his prey. You knew he could hide his boyish petulance far better than yourself and yet a glimmer of irritation from your words could be seen in his lilac eye.

“Did I strike a nerve?” He asked, taking another step closer, his eyes never leaving your face.

“Or are you just sore from me speaking the truth?

"Your jab at my bastardy brings me no pain, Aemond. I have never denied the truth." The boiling in your blood had not come from his insults, you were already used to them.

"The insufferableness I refer to is your need to ruin everything."

“And you expect me to believe that you’re here simply because I ‘ruined dinner?’” Aemond chuckled again, his smirk widening at your insolent stare.

"You ruined the chance our family had to start anew, to forget about all the resentment and rage. I am aware of your hate towards Lucerys for maiming you that night at Driftmark, but can't you find it in yourself to forget? We were children." Even as your pleads traveled across the room, your newfound confidence maintained a stern tone in your voice.

His expression changed, a flicker of something grim passing through his eye. His jaw clenched and the smirk disappeared, though he took another step further, his figure looming over yours. He reached a hand out, grabbing your chin and forcing you to look up at him.

“Forget?” He asked, his voice quiet and deadly.

“How do you expect me to forget, when it was your bastard brother who stole me my eye?”

"You lost an eye but you gained a dragon, as you said so yourself.“ You pushed his hand away, releasing yourself from his grasp as you took a step back.

“None of us mourn your eye anymore Aemond, not even your childish self."

Your touch in his hand lingered in his skin, even if it had been brief— to push him away. His thoughts raced through his mind, how could you expect him to forgive it? The incident at Driftmark surely won him Vhagar, but it earned him humiliation and disgust all the same. He could not bear the glares bestowed upon his scar, some filled with pity, others with repulse and fear. Her brother had left him crippled, a prince that would never be whole. In one swift motion, Aemond grabbed your throat, forcing you to stumble backwards until your back hit the pillar beside the chamber’s sitting room. The cold stone pressed against your body as his fingers dug into your skin.

“Do not speak of matters you know nothing of.” He hissed through clenched teeth.

Even as stings of pain cut into the muscles of your neck, you had not flinched, the ire you suppressed for so long consuming you entirely. Your eyes seeing nothing but red, a hand met his face as a loud thud vibrated through the chamber. You had punched him. He recoiled from the hit, his cheek stinging and his face shocked. He brought a free hand up to his face to touch his now bruised cheek. It stung, but something about the feeling made him hungry for more.

“You shouldn’t have done tha—.” He spat his words before you interrupted him.

“Take my eye.” You brought your hands to hold his wrist, hoping it would make him soften his grip.

“Take it. Have your revenge and be done with all this bother.” Your gaze never flickered, staring at him with determination in your eyes.

He was surprised, to say the least. He didn’t expect you to say something like that, and for a moment he just held you in place, his breath coming out in ragged breaths as he looked down at you. The prince studied your face, looking for a sign of deceit, for a hint of fear, but all he found was defiant eyes looking back at him. He grunted, a deep, guttural sound from the back of his throat.

“Is that what you want?” He raised an eyebrow at her.

"I will do what I must to protect my blood. If this will help in mending our family it is a price I'll gladly pay."

“You would do that for your bastard brothers?” He asked quietly, a hint of disbelief in his voice as pressed closer to you, his body trapping you against the wall as he moved his hand from your neck to gently place his fingers on your jawline.

"I would do it for anyone in this family if it gave us peace.“ You said, feeling your skin tingle at his soft touch.

“Even you.”

Truer words had never been said. You had no desire to lose an eye, naturally, but if it was the needed punishment you would receive it without hesitation. If it had to be you, you would do it for your relatives, for yourself, for him. For the boy you loved so dearly, the sweet version of Aemond that was shy and gentle — he deserved better. You knew he was trapped inside of the villainous mask the prince wore but was still there. And you would love him eternally, all of him, all the dark fragments of who he now was. Although, he could never let you. So you would allow your adoration succumb to violence if it would succeed in attaining peace.

The words cut him like an arrow through the heart. He felt his muscles tense and for a moment he was sure he would squeeze your throat and end it right there. But something stopped him, whether it was your words or the fact that having your face so close, gleaming in the soft light of the fireplace, made something inside him soften. He finally found it in your eyes, what he searched for so long — the same cherishing ardor he hid inside himself. His eye flickered desperately in its socket, he had to be sure it wasn’t a dream, a cruel jest his subconscious was playing on him. But it was real. Aemond knew, right then and there, that he could have the whole world at his feet and he would still beg on his knees for you.

He watched your eyes gazing over his face, taking in your expression as his change took place. He saw the way your eyes became hazy, the way your lips parted slightly as if to say something but then closed shut again. He could feel the heat pooling in his lower abdomen, a wave of burning hunger flowing through his veins. Relishing in the feel of your small frame, your breath hitching as your chest rose and fell against his, so innocent and yet calling to him like a siren.

Before you could fathom what provoked his sudden change in demeanor, he clashed his lips into yours. The kiss was rough and desperate, a collision of teeth and tongue as he pressed your body into the wall. You moved your hands to his chest, tiny and soft against the hard muscle. He felt something tighten in his groin and he groaned into the kiss, his tongue desperately searching for more of yours. He tasted you — sweet, like sugarcane and vanilla, and he couldn’t get enough. If he had known how intoxicating your touch would be, he would have indulged in it until he made himself a drunkard.

He pushed his body closer to yours, pinning you completely against the wall, his knee coming between your legs automatically as he continued the hungry assault on your mouth. You weren’t unholy, he could see it now. But if loving you was a sin, he would gladly worship your wickedness.

He placed his hand on the side of your face, his thumb caressing your cheek as he parted his lips from yours. Your foreheads touching as he opened his eye to look for your reaction, your face was flushed, your lips bruised and swollen from his rough kisses — he found the sight unbelievably arousing. You had not expected him to ignore your demand to gauge out your eye, thinking his hatred was everything you could ever have, much less kiss you. The longing and passion emanating from his touch made it clear he had been hiding from you for this long, but there was still a piece of you that needed to be sure.

Your eyes looked up at him, his lips red from friction and his luscious hair messier than usual. You could feel his hardened length on your upper thigh, the feeling sending chills through your body. You wanted him, the gods know you did, but he needed to show you his feelings were honest.

“Tell me this is real.” You said as your fingers traced soft patterns over his black tunic.

He stared at you in confusion for a brief moment, then realizing you had the same doubts he had. A loving smile made its way into his face as he spoke, the once familiar anger that filled his voice was now replaced with pure adoration.

“I need you. I have always needed you.” He whispered, the words twirling out of his lips.

“Then have me.” You said, a new sense of confidence washing over you alongside a heat that pooled in your belly.

Aemond’s eye widened as you kissed him, the action catching him off guard. It took him a moment to process that was you were asking, but when he did; he grabbed your waist and pushed you further into the stone wall. He leaned down, towering over you as he did, and kissed you back. Hard. As a soft moan hit his ear, a wave a desire washed over him. He felt an instinct, a burning need to hear more of those sounds escape your mouth. He wanted to hear you cry and moan and gasp for breath, and he wanted to be the only one to hear it.

Your hands found the back of his head, your fingers interwoven in his silver hair as you pulled him closer. His leg pressed itself again into your core, the heat stemming from your cunt could surely be felt through the fabric of your dress. His fingers digging almost painfully into your hips, he moved his other hand down, grabbing your leg and pulling it over his hip, pressing his body against yours and pinning you there.

He broke the kiss, panting, as he buried his head in the crook of your neck. He nipped and kissed your skin as if he were a starved man. Aemond had treasured you in secret for so long, the feeling of being held in the same regard by you made his head spin — you would be his forever, he had to make sure of that.

The sensitive skin of your neck reddened at each teasing action he bestowed upon it, your body aching in desire. He relished the small gasps and mewls that the simple action of his mouth against your flesh caused you to make. The soft, reddening mark he was leaving on your skin, from his lips and teeth as he marked you as his own, making him more and more possessive with every soft bite. His grip on your hip became more firmer, his hand on your waist digging in, no doubt leaving his mark there too.

You had never been touched like this before and it felt good, the thought of giving yourself to Aemond felt right somehow. Your hands found the metal buckles of his tunic, hastening to undo them and reveal his pale chest. He shivered at the feeling of your fingernails running over his bare abdomen, trails of yearning left behind. The prince could feel himself coming undone at the simple action. He was like a young boy again, his inexperience showing through how he reacted so readily to being touched. He grabbed your wrists with one hand, pinning them above your head against the wall, to stop you from exploring any further. His other hand began to roam over your body, gripping your thigh and moving higher until his hand disappeared under your skirts.

You let out a loud whine as his finger slipped over your drenched slit, waves of pleasure sent through your being. You felt yourself melting as he explored your folds at an ungodly slow pace, the tip of his long finger pressing against your pearl. He let out a soft snicker into your ear as he heard the sound that escaped your lips, a smirk of satisfaction appearing on his own. He nipped at your earlobe as he slowly pushed a long, lean finger into you. He let out a soft huff of air, as he felt how warm and tight you were. He slowly began to move inside you, at the same painfully slow pace. As his thumb began to slowly rub your clit, you were sure your cries had been heard from outside his chamber — and yet you couldn’t bring yourself to care.

Aemond watched as you closed your eyes and opened your mouth, and he smiled at the sight of your pleasure. He watched as your hips slightly bucked to meet his touch, and he took it as a sign to be rougher, and to give you even more. He moved faster and harder as he touched you, his thumb rubbing against you in a circular motion. The prince felt his breathing get shaky as sounds of your whimpers and moans filled his ears. The feel of your body trembling in pleasure, your arms wrapping around him and you scratching the back of his neck brought him nothing but complete ecstasy. He felt your body shuddering as your release washed over you, and he couldn’t help but let out a quiet moan of his own in response, relishing the sounds and the feeling of you being so overwhelmed under his touch.

You let out a cry at the loss of his finger, but he left you no time to argue as he grabbed your shoulders and turned you so your back was pressed onto his chest. The prince found the lacings of your corset, undoing them and revealing your bare skin. He turned you to face him again, the lace that had been covering your chest, was now on the floor and you were only left with your thin shift. He could see your figure through the translucent fabric, could see the rise and fall of your chest as you breathed faster and harder.

He led you, by the hips, over to the bed and slowly pushed you down until you were on your back. Aemond loomed over you, taking a moment to look down, eyes roaming over your body as he admired the sight of you on his bed, flushed, half naked and panting. You looked magnificent, he was sure you were the most beautiful woman in the seven kingdoms — and he reveled in the fact that you were his.

You never took your eyes off him, as embarrassed as you were to have his eyes scan your body like a madman. Watching as he undid the laces of his breeches, you let out a soft gasp as he kicked the fabric alongside his small clothes to the floor, kneeling over you completely bare. He was lean, strong and pale, covered in a fine layer of small white scars — surely obtained through sword fighting. There was a small dusting of silver hair that started at his pelvis and traveled up his abdomen. Your eyes found his cock, long and hard, pulsating with desire.

You furrowed your brows and sat up in the bed, grabbing the end of your shift and pulling it over your head. You saw Aemond’s pupil dilate at the sight of your naked body, feeling a small satisfaction in knowing he wanted you this much. He was mesmerizing, a true Valyrian beauty, and it delighted you to know he was yours.

“I want to see all of you.” You whispered, staring at his eyepatch.

Aemond’s good eye widened as he understood what you meant. He was used to aversion and horror being directed towards his deformity and never thought someone would ever want to see it in such a moment. He hesitated before moving his arm up and seizing the black leather in his hand, letting it fall to the bed. A sapphire eye cut through with a reddened scar stares back at you, the candlelight shining in the deep blue of the gem. You moved your hand to the side of his face and admired him, feeling his uneasiness at being vulnerable before you.

“It is beautiful.” You say as tenderness fills your heart.

The prince wasted no time as he pulled you into a deep kiss. He felt unconditionally happy at your response, the need he held growing stronger as he laid you back into the mattress. His hand cupped your breast, fondling the peak in devotion as the other found your waist. He let out a groan at the touch of his cockhead against your bare cunt, pleasure ripping through his body.

“I cannot wait any longer.” He said in ragged breaths.

You nodded in response and that was all he needed for order for him to give in to the craving he felt for you. He moved his hands and placed them instead on your hips, holding your body down on the bed as he positioned himself on top of you. He looked down at your frame, his heart racing with need and anticipation, as he looked into your eyes.

"Tell me if I need to stop." He said gently, before slowly pushing his hips forward against your body.

You gasped alongside him as you felt his cock stretch your walls, the foreign sensation striking painfully. He kissed you gently as he could feel how your body was adjusting to him, how tight you were around his length, and it made him feel completely overwhelmed. He pulled away from the kiss for just a moment, looking down at you as he slowly pushed deeper inside. You stayed like that for a moment, letting yourself get used to accommodating him.

After what Aemond felt like were hours, he noticed you bucking your hips forward, pleasuring yourself. He smirked at the sight and your hips moving against him made the silver prince feel an insane wave of desire wash over him. He knew you were enjoying it, and it only made him feel hungrier for you. He began to move his hips back and forth, in a slow, gentle back and forth motion at first. Feeling himself almost losing control as he looked down at you, your expression filled with nothing but pleasure and satisfaction.

“Aemond.” You let out.

He could feel the desire within him become almost uncontrollable as he heard your lustful words. He felt a rush of adrenaline running through him as he looked down at you, your body underneath him, and all he could think about was how good you felt. He pulled his hips back and pushed forward again, this time with a little more force and speed than before. And again, and again, until he was completely lost in the sensation of you and the feeling of having you underneath him.

You were in pure ecstasy, lost in the feeling of being with him. The sound of his heavy breaths and the pleasure filled sounds leaving his mouth made your body shiver in response. He continued to move his hips, back and forth in a rougher and faster pace, holding you closer to him as you felt the tightening in your belly grow more and more intense. You wrapped your arms over his shoulders, scratching his back to mark him as he did you.

The memories of your childhood together filled his mind. How you would read together in the library, how you defended him from his brother and yours and especially how you laughed so easily in his presence. He loved how you were filled with so much joy, a true beam of sunlight inside the Red Keep. He knew then how you would intertwine yourself into his heart and take it for yourself — and he let you.

Aemond could feel his climax growing closer, the feeling of your full breasts against him and your body shaking in response becoming too much to hold back. He felt like he had died and found himself in the greatest of heavens, all he wanted to do was surrender himself completely to the moment.

"I’m close." He said faintly, his breathing ragged and his heart beating faster with every passing second.

Your tightened your grip on his back, your nails digging into his skin, filling him with a mixture of pleasure and pain. It was just the right thing to send him over the edge, to make his body give in completely. He let out a low, guttural moan as he felt himself reach his peak, and he felt both your bodies shake in response to the overwhelming euphoria that washed over them. He sent a few more thrusts inside you, your walls clenching as you took his seed.

You two stayed that way, a mess of sweat and disheveled breaths as you rode out of your trance. His hand drew patterns on your outer tight while you ran your fingers through his silver locks, both hearts brimming with love. You longed for each other in secret for years, miserable at the thought of having the other’s hatred to call their own. But now, caged in a chaos of limbs over the soft linens of his bed, it all felt far away, for he was yours and you were his.

“I love you.” He mumbled against your skin.

“I love you as well.” You answered, a soft smile on your lips.

There could never be a truce over the divide that wedged itself between the sides of mighty House Targaryen, but you would be each other’s peace.

From now until death parts you.

[toxicanonymity]

stuffing.

5.7k words, Joel x f!reader x Tommy | sequel here! A/N: ONE SHOT. I had to get this out of my system after that one Uncle Tommy line I wrote in september lol. Shoutouts to: @bonezone44 for being an Uncle Tommy stan, @walkintotheriveranddisappear for running the center for dvp excellence, and everyone who's been supportive. 🖤 Fic recs at the bottom. WARNINGS: I8+, big girthy age gap, darkish miller bros, dubcon (coaxing/pressure, you aren't sure what Joel allows), use of "daddy," sharing, unsafe p in v (individually and together), oral, jacking off, creampies, cucking, MFM, DP (double vag), light degradation, praise, pet names, foot massage. AU where you don't overthink this fic. You’re happy with Joel, but it’s not a healthy relationship with clear communication and boundaries. Joel carries reader. TW: incidental incest via MFM/DVP - If this isn't for you, please quietly move along.

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Joel squats down with one hand on the back of your chair. He admires your face then cups your cheek. “Gotta do somethin’, baby. Won’t be back tonight.” The casual announcement makes your heart race.  He kisses you on the forehead, then stands up. 

“What do you mean you won’t be back tonight?”

“It’s okay, baby. Uncle Tommy’s gonna stay with ya.”

Your face gets hot. Tommy tilts his head down and smiles at you from across the breakfast table. He raises his glass of juice in acknowledgement, but you don’t look at him. You look squarely at Joel, caught off guard by his plans.

“Daddy,” you whine. “Just lemme come with you.” 

“Ain’t that kinda trip, darlin’.” 

“Why can’t he do it?”

Tommy laughs silently and his voice goes up an octave. “What’sa matter, sweetheart? Don’t wanna hang out?” He tilts his head and smiles, then his normal voice returns. “That’s okay.” There's a glimmer in his eye. 

Joel grabs his jacket and kisses you goodbye, then says, “Don’t have too much fun without me,” and winks at Tommy. Then Joel's gone, just like that. Your tummy feels nervous as his truck starts, then drives away. 

-

It's Thanksgiving week. You have a lot to be thankful for. Joel loves you and takes good care of you. You have solar power and a nice farm with a secure perimeter. Tommy is visiting for the holiday. You met Tommy in passing long ago, but his girl at the time was with him, and that was before you were Joel’s. You were just the girl down the street. This week is the first time you've really spent time together. 

Joel would kill any other man for touching you, but apparently he's different about Tommy.  You're still figuring out how that works.  Joel doesn't seem to mind what Tommy sees–or feels–when the three of you are together.  But what about when you're alone? 

Does Joel know Tommy walked by the bedroom window and saw you undressing? Does he know Tommy came to apologize for that when you were fresh out of the shower, and saw you in a towel? Or that he looked you up and down, asked if Joel was treating you right, then gave a low whistle and adjusted himself before he left? Or that you touched yourself almost as soon as he closed the door?

*******

Last night, Joel put you in Tommy's lap in the armchair to give you a foot massage, and you tried not to react when Tommy got hard. “It's ok,” Tommy whispered with his hands on your hips. He pulled you back against his hard bulge with a soft grunt and it gave you a shock of desire. 

“It's ok, darlin,” Joel echoed, kneeling at your feet. Joel placed your heel on his own hardening package as he worked on the ball of your foot. 

Tommy's hand cupped your breast and you tensed. 

Joel glanced up. “Relax, baby. It's just Uncle Tommy.” 

“It's ok,” Tommy whispered again into your hair as his other hand crept up your thigh, higher and higher, until his thumb grazed your panties. Joel continued massaging you, unbothered, then switched to the other foot. 

Tommy's thick fingers glided over your panties and you twitched as he felt the dampness. He lifted his hips with a soft grunt, then cleared his throat.  “gonna take care of your girl tonight, Joel? She's drippin’ like a faucet.”  Your cheeks burned, and Tommy ran his hand down your thigh. 

Joel smiled with half his mouth as he glanced up. “makin’ a mess already?” Joel shook his head.  “Close your legs, darlin'.” 

Your stomach dropped and you stammered, “sorry, uh . . .”

But as soon as you closed your legs, Tommy lifted your dress up, making your whole body tingle with goosebumps. Joel’s face gave away nothing as he looked past you at Tommy.  For a moment, you thought Tommy had gone too far. Then Joel hooked his fingers into the waistband of your panties, and Tommy held you back against his chest as Joel slid them off. Joel spread your knees, and Tommy's, and knelt between them, closer. 

With his armpits resting over your thighs, Joel looked at your cunt hungrily and spread you open with his thumbs. You tilted your hips for him, feeling yourself gush. “Good girl,” he murmured, then planted his right forearm on your lower belly. With his right fingers pointing down, he ran them through your dripping folds, then drew in a deep breath through his nose before bringing his mouth between your legs. 

Joel lapped at your weeping hole and sucked your clit. He fingered you and made out with your cunt like it was just another night, like he was getting ready to fuck you. Meanwhile, Tommy lightly grinded into your ass, breathing warm and wet into your hair and holding you gently in his strong arms as Joel devoured your pussy. Tommy rocked you gently on his lap, rocking you into Joel’s mouth. Joel ate you out at the same rhythm.  When you came, Tommy’s arousal pressed harder against you and he grabbed your breast. He cooed, “good girl.”  

Joel didn't seem to mind, and it felt really good, but you got self conscious after you finished. Tommy caressed your arm as Joel wiped his mouth off. “I'm sleepy, daddy,” you looked at him with big eyes.

Joel looked at you fondly, squeezed your thigh, and said, “I know, darlin’. Give Uncle Tommy a kiss goodnight.”  You turned around and kissed him on the cheek, then mumbled “goodnight” without meeting his eyes. 

—

Joel scooped you up in his arms. You went to bed with Joel and only Joel. As soon as he laid you down, you asked, “you're not mad about Tommy touching me?”

“Felt good, didn't it?” 

You gave a small nod. 

“Nice havin’ four hands.” Joel raised his eyebrows and left it at that. 

You eyed the protrusion in his jeans. “I'm comin’, baby,” he reassured you as he unzipped them. He pulled his jeans and boxers down together and his massive erection sprang free. He prowled across the bed, settled between your legs, and you raised your knees, tilting your hips for him. “Good girl,” he whispered as he got himself into place. 

“God damn, even wetter now,” he muttered as he gathered your slick on his fingers and wiped it on his stiff cock. His tip prodded your dripping hole, then he pushed inside with a sigh, making you moan as he split you open. Joel bottomed out, and the sound that came out of his chest was somewhere between a grunt and a groan, “Uungghh.” You whimpered in pleasure. Then, through the thin wall, you heard Tommy cum with a deep moan. Joel chuckled, then bowed his head and kissed you, pausing all the way inside. 

Joel kissed you softly as he buried his length in you, and your lips broke away only to whimper, “Daddy.”

“Yeah, baby doll,” he whispered into the pillow, right by your ear. “Daddy’s here.” You wrapped your legs around him as he fucked you deep and slow. You imagined Tommy lying behind you, grinding against you, whispering “good girl,” copping a feel as Joel fucked you.  You moaned and whimpered under Joel as he brought you to the brink again.  Then, as your wet little pussy fluttered around his cock, he groaned and bottomed out to fill you with his seed. 

**********

Now it’s morning, Joel's gone, and you're left alone with his brother. His brother with the sweet smile, soft voice, and big dick that felt so hard against you. Don't have too much fun without me, Joel said. . . With a wink.   Unsure what to do with that, you avoid Tommy for most of the day, and he doesn't make you hang out with him. He works in the yard and you catch a few glimpses. He gets hot and takes off his flannel, exposing his wifebeater and oversized belt buckle. As he dabs his forehead with his shirt, his bicep swells and the veins on his hand bulge.

Tommy comes in and takes a shower in the other bathroom. There’s a knock on your bedroom door, then it opens. You’re not sure why you didn’t lock it. Tommy’s wearing jeans, boxers, and nothing else. Your eyes linger on his strong chest. He leans with his hand against the door frame. “Think Joel would let me borrow a shirt? Wasn’t plannin’ to work up a sweat,” he chuckles. 

Tommy crosses his muscular arms over his thick, bare chest as you get a white t-shirt out of Joel's dresser and toss it to him. Tommy’s jeans ride down as he lifts his arms and puts the shirt on in front of you. He catches you looking as his head comes through the hole, then he rakes his fingers through his curls. A subtle smile forms, his eyes twinkle, and he gives you a little nod before he walks away. 

—

Later, you're taking a bath. You sigh as you sink into the water. Then there's a click as the doorknob lock is effortlessly picked. The door opens and Tommy smiles at you with his eyes, biting his bottom lip. He closes the door behind him. The tub squeaks as you quickly pull up your knees to cover your breasts. 

“Musta been touchin’ yourself, huh?” he chuckles as he approaches the tub. “Don't stop on my account.” He winks and his eyes fall on your legs. You scooch them closer together in case he can see through the bathwater. 

Your chest feels warm. You look down and away.

Tommy takes a seat on the tiled floor in front of the garden tub. “C’mon sweetheart, don't be shy.” his arm moves out of view, unbuttoning his jeans. Your nipples harden. He tilts his head to peek from the side and smiles. 

“What do you want?” you ask softly and a low squeak echoes as you shift in the tub. 

“Wanna see ya do it. Go on, finish what ya started.”  

“I wasn't.”

“There's no shame in it, sweetheart”

You swallow and look down.

He studies your face and repeats, “Nothin' to be ‘shamed of. You know that. Right?”

“Tell your brother that,” you whisper and instantly regret it. You pinch your eyes shut and add, “No, don't. . .Please.”

“Oh shit,” Tommy whispers. “Ya can’t, can ya?” 

You barely shake your head, eyes still closed. 

Tommy chuckles. “Controlling fucker, ain't he?” 

You look at Tommy and your eyes widen with some defiant glimmer of hope. “God damn,” he whispers. “keepin’ his girl from touchin’ herself.” He looks down and shakes his head in disapproval.  

He smiles apologetically.  “Guess Daddy knows best, huh?” He tugs his jeans off, and you watch unabashed.  As his pants come off, his boxers ride down, exposing his short, dark pubic hair. You can’t help but admire the way his thigh muscles swell out from his boxers.  

He palms himself over the fabric and raises his eyebrows. “Wanna see it, don’t ya?” He smiles knowingly at you. 

You don’t answer. He shows you anyway, pulling the waistband down under his balls. He's neatly trimmed and his balls are big. He's engorged but not fully hard. 

“Do me a favor and spit in my hand, sweetheart.” He holds it out in front of you. You look back and forth between his eyes, then his freckles. He's a handsome man. His hand stays there, waiting patiently. You gather saliva in your mouth, tilt your head forward, and let it drop into his palm. 

“Good girl,” he murmurs. 

He wraps his hand around his cock and You look into the bath water as his eyes devour your body. In the corner of your eye, you can see him at full mast. He breathes heavier, then moves positions. He sits with his right side against the tub, facing you. He strokes himself with his left hand and dips his right hand into the water. You flinch away then try to relax.  The backs of Tommy’s fingers graze your calf under the water. You squeeze your thighs together. 

“Don't get shy on me now, cupcake.” He reaches behind your calf and touches the back of your leg, near your ass.  Your legs involuntarily part.  He wouldn't do anything Joel wouldn't like. Would he? Somehow the tension of the situation is only making you want it more.  His fingers creep between your legs and caress your inner thigh crease. He sucks in a chest full of air, then gets on his knees. He brings his left hand to your mouth again for lube. 

“Good girl.”  The squelch of his hand around his cock echoes with the new moisture.  He searches your face as half his mouth breaks into a smile.  He holds your inner thigh as he jacks off. Then he straightens your leg so he can see your body better. “God damn,” he murmurs, and the sound of his voice is sharpened by the tile. He rubs your thigh, spits into his other hand, keeps tugging at his cock, then when he's close, he gets up and sits on the edge of the tub. It’s impossible not to look at his stiff, angry cock, glistening with your combined saliva. You still have one knee bent above the water–the knee furthest from him. 

He pumps himself and stands up to face you. “You wanna know how I taste?” He asks. 

You hesitantly shake your head no, unsure if it would be crossing a line.  “Okay, sweetheart. Don't have to.” He aims his cock at the water over your lap, then closes his eyes and groans. “Ohh, God. ohhhh,” it lands sharply in your ears as he erupts. Silky ropes of cum dance in the water, some of it wrapping around your thigh. When he's finished, he pulls his boxers back up, then his jeans, but doesn't zip them up. He sits on the edge of the tub again, leans over it, and kisses you on the forehead. Then he whispers in your ear, “I'll make dinner.” 

—-

You eat together at the kitchen table. There's a cornucopia centerpiece.  The scant conversation is about winter and gardening, until he reaches  under the table and squeezes your thigh. You want him so bad, you blurt out, “what’s happening?” 

He replies, “Huh?” with his hand still on your thigh. 

You search Tommy’s face. “You said it yourself, he’s controlling.” You shift in your chair and he takes his hand back. You continue,  “Why doesn’t he care if you. . .” 

“Ah,” Tommy smiles down at his plate. “Well. . .”  He turns his chair to face you instead of the table. He sits back and manspreads, and his hands rest on his thighs. “I’m just another body to love ya with, sugar.”  His eyes drift to the cornucopia. “And I sure am thankful for it.” 

His eyes return to you, and your heart flutters. 

“He can love on ya when he ain’t here, even.” One of his hands slides up his own thigh to rest closer to his groin. He takes in a deep breath through his nose and nods, admiring you as he slowly exhales. His eyes are darker. 

A desperate want is stirring in your belly. It seems too good to be true. You abruptly announce, “I’m tired. I’m gonna go to bed.”

“Okay, cupcake. C’mere,” Tommy opens his arms. 

You stand between his legs, bend forward, put your arms around his neck and kiss him on the cheek.  As you pull your head back, his hands on your hips pull you into sitting on his thigh. He brings a hand to your cheek, and it melts you. “I wouldn’t do nothin’ he wouldn’t want,” he reassures you.

You nod. 

“End up on the wrong side of the dirt,” he chuckles. When you don’t laugh, he clarifies, “Me, not you. He’d never hurt ya, cupcake.” 

Then he cradles your head with both hands, studying your eyes and lips.  He wets his lips, and your lips part, watching him. Half his mouth twitches. You’re warm all over. He leans in and looks at your mouth again, getting closer. When you can practically feel the heat of his lips on yours, you close the gap and feel a rush of need when your mouths come together. His lips are soft, and the kiss is tender. You pull away after two seconds. 

“Goodnight,” you whisper. 

—---

You lie in bed missing Joel, wishing he would come home.  You feel more at ease with the two of them.  Your mind drifts to Tommy.  At this rate, you wish he would stay.  You’re almost asleep when the bedroom door creaks open. 

“Daddy?” When you turn over, the moonlit silhouette is Tommy's. He's only wearing boxers and there's already a tent in them. He lifts the covers, and the mattress dips under his weight. 

You ask, “What are you doing?”

“'S’okay, cupcake, I told ya. Promise he won’t be mad.”

“How do you know for sure?”

“Your daddy and I been sharin’ our toys for fifty years.”

Your stomach turns, but Tommy adds,  “You're the most special of all, ya know.” He scoots closer. “Never seen him in love before.” 

You feel your body warming and opening up for him. 

“He wants ya to get what ya need, baby,” Tommy whispers. 

Your heart pounds. 

“Even told me your secret word,” Tommy adds. 

“He did?”

“If ya really want me to stop, all ya gotta say is Appleseed.” How would he know that unless Joel told him? 

You turn away from Tommy and he doesn't waste any time before spooning you. His strong arm rests over you and his hand cups a breast. He kisses your neck, soft and wet. The thick, warm rod in his boxers grazes your lower back as he tongues your delicate skin. He kisses your neck with increasing passion, and he kneads your breast.  Then his arousal fully presses against you through his boxers and your nightgown.  

He curves his body around you and pulls you back into him. He sighs and his engorged cock twitches against your crack, giving you a surge of desire. He slides his hand into your nightgown from the top to palm your naked breast and sighs as he grinds against you.  

“God damn, sweetheart,” he whispers as your nipple hardens against his palm. He takes his hand out of your nightgown and cups your breast on top of it again, then his hand slowly slides down your sleepwear, feeling every inch of your torso before arriving at your bare thigh. He nudges his fingers under the hem of your nightgown and slides his hand up your thigh. When his hand reaches your pussy, your top leg lifts ever so slightly, spreading your thighs to make room for him. You're not wearing underwear. 

“Good girl,” he whispers.  You’re aching to have him inside you. “Drippin’ for me ain't ya, baby?” 

He circles your clit, and you moan softly. There's a wet spot on his boxers pressing into you.  “Fuck” he mutters and backs up his hips. “Damnit, I’m drippin’, too,” he chuckles. “Takin’ these off.” 

After taking his boxers off, Tommy hovers over you and you’re still on your side. Tommy's hand comes back to your breast, and you turn your face toward his.  Your lips meet, and after two seconds, you don’t pull away. His lips push yours open and you accept his tongue. You breathe through your nose as he licks into your mouth.  

Tommy pulls back and reads your face, then gives you another soft kiss before settling in behind you, against you, curled around you again. His naked cock is smooth and warm against your ass. He grinds against you for a minute as he massages your breast and moans into your hair.  Then his hand drifts down between your legs and he groans at how wet you are. 

“I gotta be in ya, sugar.” Tommy backs up and wedges his rigid cock between your thighs, and it glides smoothly through your mess of arousal. His tip reaches your clit. You’re throbbing needily. Your hips tilt on their own, offering him your hole. 

“Fuck,” Tommy says as his tip finds your entrance. “Fuck. That’s right, baby.” he pushes his tip into you. You're dying for it, but you're still a little tense and it's making you even tighter. 

“God damn, you feel good. Can't imagine when he first–.” He pushes into you, trying to let your body relax and accommodate his girth. “Oh shit, mmm–that musta been–Fuck.” He pushes a little further. “Relax for me, baby.” He withdraws some then thrusts further into you.  “Relax, sugar,” he whispers. “Just breathe.” You take a deep breath and relax. The last of him slides in and he bottoms out.  “Ohh, good girl. There we go.” He palms your breast and you melt into him.  “We’re right here, baby.” 

He’s got you speared on his cock, spread apart by his girth. “God damn. What a good girl.” 

With his cock fully sheathed, his thick fingers rub circles on your nipple.  You moan, twitching around the new cock buried in the hot center of your body. “Mmm,” he growls into your hair, still not moving. You need friction. He breathes deeply. “breathe with me, baby.” You breathe with him and feel yourself relax more. 

“Please,” you whine, beginning to move your hips. 

His voice is husky. “God damn. Look at ya, sugar. Fuckin’ yourself on Uncle Tommy’s cock?”

“Please,” you whimper again. 

“What's your daddy gonna think?” 

Your walls twitch and your heart skips a beat. “You said–”

“Yeah. . .He'll be fine, sweetheart..” Tommy begins to move his hips. “He’d be proud’a ya, takin’ this cock like such a good girl.”

He begins to fuck you at a steady rhythm, breathing heavily and cursing softly. You begin to relax with his hand mapping the front of your body, and his stiff cock thrusting into you. He palms your tit again and your head tilts back against him. He kisses your neck, and your body opens for him even more. Your cunt swallows him up with every thrust. 

“Ohh, Joel's a lucky man,” he pants with his dick easily sliding into you, making you whole. “Shit, I'm lucky, too–uggh.”  You push back on him as he fills you with his stiff cock. 

He asks, “Little harder?” 

“Mm,” you nod. 

He slams into you and you moan. 

“Yeah, that's our girl.” 

Soon, you’re lost in the pleasure of Tommy’s thick cock pounding you. 

The front door unlocks and you freeze. You’re both facing away from the bedroom door.  “‘S’okay,” Tommy reminds you. He slows his hips, then bottoms out and pauses. “C’mere,” he wraps his arms around you and with his cock still inside, he rolls over on his back, then sets you down on your other side, arms still wrapped around you, his cock only sliding out half way in the process.

As soon as you’re settled, he bottoms out again with a soft moan.   You and Tommy are both facing the bedroom door now. The covers are down around your waist. The handle moves, then the door opens. The silhouette is Joel with his sleeves rolled up. 

—---

As Joel approaches the bed, the moonlight hits him and his face is dark. 

“She’s so good, Joel,” Tommy pants, with you still full of his cock.

Joel comes to the bed and crouches down. “God damn.” Joel gently takes your jaw in his hand and tilts his head. He studies your face, then his eyes land on yours affectionately. “Couldn't go one day, could ya?” He smiles with his eyes and relief washes over you.  

“M’sorry daddy,” you sigh. “Are you mad?”

“No, baby.” Tommy is fucking you slowly. “I ain't mad.” Joel slowly stands up and palms himself over his jeans as he watches your body move to the slow rhythm of Tommy’s thrusts. 

“Really?”

“Baby, I keep ya stuffed so full’a cock. .  . can't blame ya for needin’ it.”

“Yeah,” you whimper. 

“That's what Uncle Tommy's here for,” Tommy whispers. 

“Now I get to see ya,” Joel says “All of ya,” Joel gently pulls the covers all the way off. Then Joel tugs up at the hem of your nightgown and kneels down to take it off you. 

You try to move forward, reaching for Joel, but Joel puts his hand on your bare chest and Tommy pulls you back, bottoming out again with a moan. 

“Want yours,” you whimper.

“Shhh. You're gonna get it.” 

You watch Joel take off all his clothes, and as he does it, he watches you moving at a slow rhythm.  When Joel’s naked, he spits in his hand. He stands by the bed watching you get fucked by his brother, taking in the view as he squeezes his cock. 

“Daddy, please,” you whine. 

Joel sits down on the bed.  Tommy scooches back to make more room and brings you back with him, still impaled on his cock. Joel lies down and faces you. He gets right up against you, and the first thing he does is kiss you. His hard cock lays against your clit and mound, throbbing for you.  You moan into his mouth as Tommy’s cock drags slowly inside you from behind.  

Joel’s arm wedges between your back and Tommy’s chest, grabbing hold of you.  Joel nudges you upward. Tommy takes the hint and pulls out. You wrap your leg over Joel’s hip. His eyes scan your face, marveling at your feral want. Joel’s hand, still on your back, slides down your ass and hooks under it, between your legs, feeling your sopping wet cunt from the back. “God damn, baby. This all you or did Uncle Tommy cum already?”

“Not yet,” Tommy answers. 

Joel’s tip slides through your folds, then he pulls back  and notches himself at your entrance. He moves his hand to your hip, and pushes into you with a sigh. You're so wet and aroused, he sinks all the way into you.  “Fuck,” Joel breathes. “oh, yeah—ugghh–swallowed me right up, baby.” He marvels at how relaxed you are. With Joel’s arm out of the way, Tommy’s tummy returns flush against your back, with his hard, wet cock pressing against your ass cheek. He grabs your tit. 

Joel buries his cock in you. “Oh baby, you love this, don’t ya?” 

You nod. “Love your cock, daddy.” 

“You’re takin’ it so good, baby.  Think you’re wet enough for—ohh, darlin’.” He grinds against you, deep inside you. “You wanna ride this cock, baby?” 

You nod.  Joel slides out of you and you whimper at the loss as he rolls onto his back. Joel lies face up and holds his cock for you. He whispers, “C’mere baby,” but you're already on your way. 

You straddle him and sink right down on him with a whimpered, “daddy,” then bend forward, putting your tits against Joel’s chest. Tommy’s slowly stroking himself and watching. 

“C’mere,” Joel whispers and reaches for your head. He pulls your face into his for a passionate kiss as you grind into him with his cock buried in you. It only takes a few seconds of grinding into Joel for your walls to spasm. 

“Oh god,” he mutters as you contract around him.  “oh—oh, God, baby.” 

As you finish coming on Joel's cock, your whole body relaxes. You’re even wetter and more open than you were before. “Now you’re–oh yeah, you’re good,” Joel whispers to himself with his hands on the backs of your thighs. You both breathe for a moment and you begin to slowly move again.

Joel licks his finger then reaches over your ass, his hand approaching your hole from behind. You stop moving as he gently wedges the thick digit into your cunt from the top so his fingernail is against his cock. “Yeah,” he whispers, moving the finger around, checking how much you'll stretch. “Yeah,” he says as his head turns and he glances at Tommy. 

Joel cups your cheek  and reads your face. “Can I fuck ya with two cocks, baby?” 

You spasm with an aftershock.  “It won't fit,” you protest, but the thought of it turns you on. Your hips begin to move again. You're taking his cock and his finger. 

“Can we find out, baby doll?” Joel asks.

You slowly move on his cock and finger, with your face close to his. Your clit is throbbing.  “You aren't worried to stretch me?”

“You'll snap right back, baby,” Joel pants as he wedges another finger in with his cock. 

“I dunno if I can,” you whine.  

“It’s okay, darlin’. Let's find out.”

“Okay,” you whisper. 

Tommy gets up on his knees and gets close to Joel's shoulder, near your head.  

“Get it nice and wet,” Joel tells you.  

Without getting off Joel's cock, you turn your head enough to accept Tommy's cock into your mouth. You let saliva pool under your tongue, then swirl it all over his shaft until he's dripping. “alright” Tommy whispers, then you deposit the rest of the saliva from under your tongue. “Alright, don't make me cum, sweetheart.” 

Tommy straddles Joel’s legs behind you while Joel hugs you close. 

Tommy nudges your occupied hole. Joel slowly removes his fingers and Tommy’s tip finds its place between the first cock and the back wall of your cunt. Once Tommy's tip is nestled there, Joel’s fingers leave you and both his hands hold your sides. 

“Deep breath,” Tommy whispers. You draw in a chest full of air, and when you begin to exhale, he begins to push in. 

It burns for a moment as Tommy’s cockhead breaches your dripping hole, but his smooth, wet cock feels better than the fingers. “Fuck,” Tommy mutters as he pushes further. 

“Daddy,” you whimper. “It's a lot.”

“I know it is, darlin’, you're doin’ so good.”

“Breathe with me, sweetheart,” Tommy whispers. You take deep breaths and try to relax. The burn fades as your body catches up.  The stretch is only a little uncomfortable around their shafts at the very edge of you. Deeper inside, you feel a fullness you couldn't have imagined.  

“Good,” Joel says. “doin’ real good, baby. You wanna keep goin’?” 

You nod. You take deep breaths and bow your head as Tommy sinks in a little more. 

“God damn, baby. Packed full of it, ain’t ya?”Joel marvels. The look on his face makes you twitch. 

You lock eyes with Joel, bite your lip, and nod. Joel tilts his hips down toward the bed and you groan into Joel’s chest as Tommy pushes into you as much as he can. The burn is fading, and the sense of fullness overwhelms you in the best way. It's not just physical. You close your eyes and savor it. Joel’s hips begin to move. He slides against your front wall, nudging just the right place, making you whimper. 

Tommy slides in rhythm, and his breathing is labored. “Ohhh,” he moans. “Shit-–ugggh.” He warns Joel, “I'm pretty close, brother.”

Joel looks like he's making a calculation behind his eyes. Then he reads your face. “You want double the cum, baby?” 

You nod. 

“That's my girl,” Joel whispers. “That’s my perfect lil girl.” His hips wiggle under you.

“Ohh-fff-uuggh” Tommy pants and pulls back. 

Joel moves his hips and slides within your stuffed hole. Tommy stays still while Joel thrusts a few small strokes and you groan. Tommy pushes forward and you sigh. Joel kisses you. You push back and Tommy slides forward. Joel does another slow thrust upward, then Tommy says “fuck,” pushes another inch, then begins to cum. “Oh god,” Tommy groans. His dick pulses and pulses in your packed cunt as his warm release coats your walls and Joel's cock. 

“Jesus,” Tommy sighs, then begins to pull out of you. The burn returns as the crown of his tip crests your entrance on its way out. Then you whimper in relief. There's a sense of loss as your body slowly draws itself back in, but it's a major comfort still being wrapped around Joel's cock. Tommy lies down on his back to recover. 

“You did so good baby,” Joel brushes your cheek and his hips lift as your body adjusts itself back to his girth. “Ya like havin’ two cocks?” It’s the first time you haven’t felt packed full from Joel’s cock alone, and your temples feel weak. 

You nod hesitantly. “Do I still feel good?”

“Oh darlin’, you feel so good,” he breathes and the tension melts away from your face. 

“Yeah, I liked it,” you whisper. “But I only need one.” 

He cradles your head and  it feels like it's just the two of you. “Love you so much,” he whispers, and brings your face to his again, rolling his hips under you. He kisses you deeply and grinds up into you with his cock all the way inside. Your mouth breaks away with a moan, and your hips begin to move, bringing an obscene squelching sound with them. 

“Oh darlin’,” Joel whispers, and he pulls you back into a kiss.  He grunts into your mouth with a sharp thrust upward, and the tension boils over.  You begin to clench around him. Joel breaks the kiss with a shudder, then he moans your name as you flutter around his cock. His fingers dig into your hips and he pulls you flush, then pulses with a groan. “Ohhhh, fuck—ohhh,” he sighs as he releases a massive load, more than doubling the cum inside you. The rhythm of Joel’s cock soothes you as his load combines with Tommy's. 

—--

You stay on Joel’s cock for a few minutes, and he strokes your back, praising you quietly.  Tommy falls asleep.  Eventually you sigh and whine, "I have to go to the bathroom.” 

“Ok, baby,” Joel whispers and begins to help you off his cock. 

When you come back, Joel helps you into bed between them. You face Joel and he kisses you good night. You feel thankful for him as you drift off to sleep. 

—-

sequel here

-

-

Thank you for reading 🖤 I know people want updates on certain Joels but I haven't been having the easiest time and sometimes writing something new is lower-pressure.

Uncle Tommy is a brain worm I've had for a couple months ever since I blurted it out in another series.

I have another recent Joel x reader ft. Tommy with a different set miller bros: leopard print

And a darker Tommy x reader here: birds of prey

-----

FIC RECS

If you like brotherly sharing, a couple of my personal favorites are

I can be your pretty girl part 4, and part 5 by (RIP) walkintotheriveranddisappear who sadly inactivated

Liquid Gold and its prequel Two Hands to Hold by @gasolinerainbowpuddles,

If you like the idea of daddy/uncle, @bonezone44 has Joel, tommy, and Ezra.

More brotherly sharing - Smack My Bitch Up, a raider AU by @milla-frenchy.

If you wanna suck Tommy's big balls, @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin has you covered.

More fic recs (and more to come) on my rec blog @toxicrecs.

Alright I tried to bring my tag list back and something went wrong so I might have to remove them from the post sorry 🥲

[pinksturniolo]

summer smash

chris and matt sturniolo x fem reader

a blurb from the versus universe

summary: chris and matt decide to take you with them to chicago for the summer smash festival. later that night in the hotel room, when matt shows you what he filmed on his vlog camera, a certain idea sparks his interest…

content warnings: heavy smut, threesome (no male on male/incest), poly relationship, oral male and fem receiving, doggy, sex tape, fluff (literally a summer smash lmao)

disclaimer!: this story is purely fictional and came from my own twisted mind, pls don’t take anything in this fic literally. i highly doubt matt and chris would ever share a girl, however for us horny freaks, the idea is fun 😂 and matt if ur lurking and you see this… no you didn’t 🩷

matts large hand wraps around your calf as he tugs you towards the end of the bed, standing over you with his vlog camera in his other hand.

he captures the sight of your wet, throbbing core as he spreads your legs wider by pushing your thighs open, his teeth digging into his bottom lip at the view of you beneath him. squirming.. leaking… practically buzzing with the need to feel his fingers against you.

but he doesn’t touch you there just yet, a hint of a smirk on his face as he locks eye contact with you. “touch yourself. i wanna see you get even wetter for me.”

his instructions somewhat shock you since you’ve never touched yourself in front of him before but your heart is racing with the thrill of him watching you, lust pumping through your veins.

“go ahead darling. for me?” he coaxes, noticing your brief moment of hesitation. his voice is sweet like honey and he holds the camera steady, his eyes focused on your fingers as you drag them down your pelvis, slowly dipping them into your folds.

he still holds your legs open, his one hand gripping your inner thigh. his mouth starts to part when you rub your fingers back and forth slowly through your pussy, the feeling of increasing wetness coating you and a small whine escapes your throat.

“mmm such a good girl aren’t you?” he says, the words coming out breathy as matt finds it a little hard to resist pulling his achingly hard dick out right now and slipping inside you. but he’s enjoying this game of simon says and it’s going to be especially fun later when he watches it back on his camera.

see, matt’s always had the fantasy of recording you. capturing you in your most vulnerable moments with him. the way you sound as you moan for him, the way your body looks as he brings you to the cusp of pleasure, the sinful way your eyes roll into the back of your head as he thrusts into you.

it all started as you were laying next to him a few moments ago, his arms wrapped around you as your head laid on his chest, excited as he showed you what he filmed earlier at the festival.

you wanted nothing more than to go to the concert with them but had other obligations for work, however they still insisted you come with them on the trip.

matt’s excitement turned into lust when he saw the silk shorts you had on, your bare thighs squishing together on the bed and once his hands started running over your skin, he just couldn’t turn down the opportunity to get you naked on camera.

after all, it was for his eyes only. chris was preoccupied in the shower and he had every intention of using this time to act out his little fantasy.

“does it feel good baby?” he asks and you nod, your eyes slipping close as you dip one finger inside, your spongy walls tightening.

“keep your eyes on me.” he says and your eyes snap back open at his request, his icy blue gaze sending another wave of pleasure through you.

“rub that clit for me.” is his next order as he focuses the view of your nimble fingertips circling your bundle of nerves, your body more than happy to obey his demands.

you whine loudly now, incredibly wet from touching yourself and observing the way matt watches you, a slight flush of pink on his face, his mouth parted and veins in his forearm showing as he grips your thigh even harder.

“matt…” you breathe, unable to hold back the neediness in your tone.

“yes?” he replies, licking his lips as he leans down now, resting on his knees in front of you, his hand moving dangerously close to where you want him the most.

“please.. touch me.” you beg him and his smirk grows wider at your response, his eyes flicking up to your face.

“is that what you want sweetheart? you want me to help you out?” he chides, the condescending tone of his voice making you clench around nothing.

“yes, please. so bad.” you’re shameless in the way you want him and he’s more than happy to oblige as the camera captures him slipping his middle and third finger into your dripping hole, the metal of his cold rings against your skin making you moan loudly.

he curls them inside you as he goes deeper, pressing against your sweet spot.

“fuck baby, i can’t wait to be inside you.” he all but moans, his words making you drip down his hand.

“feels so- mmm -gooood” you babble, struggling to keep your words coherent as he pumps his fingers into you at a merciless pace, the lewd sounds of your wetness being heard.

“yeah? keep talking to me baby, you sound so fucking pretty like this… all worked up for me..” he rasps and you just about cum from his praises alone before he sets the camera down, now completely set on having you orgasm on his fingers, bringing his head down to suction his lips around your clit.

he swirls his tongue, sucking and lapping at your clit while brushing your g spot repeatedly with his his fingers, his breaths coming out in hot puffs as he buries his face into you.

with a loud moan of matt’s name, the coil that’s been building in your abdomen releases at the same time you hear the bathroom door open, and see chris step out from the corner of your eye.

you turn your head to see him standing there, steam filtering out from the shower he just finished, a white towel hanging low on his hips. droplets of water fall from his hair as he stares back at you and the sight of your legs shaking around matt’s head sparks jealousy within him.

"I leave for 10 minutes and this is what happens, huh?" he complains, walking towards the bed.

your heart rate is increasing again from seeing chris in just the little hotel towel, barely coming down from the high matt just gave you.

"couldn't help myself..." matt mumbles, still lust drunk and eyes locked on your body as he gets up from his knees, gripping your hips and turning you over so you're face down on the bed now.

"think you can cum for me again my love?" he asks, smoothing his hands over your curves before he grabs the camera again, the perfect view of your ass out for him, as he positions his cock against your entrance.

"yes.." you say, and you look up to see chris's shocked but intrigued expression as he takes notice of matt filming you, his towel still around his hips as he sits back against the headrest of the bed.

"what the fuck matt? are you making a sex tape? did she even consent to this?" he asks and you can't but giggle as he looks at you, a slight tone of concern in his voice.

matt simply scoffs at his question. "you're ruining my video, idiot."

before anyone else can say anything, matt slides inside you with ease, both of you letting out sounds of pleasure as he sets a slow pace that steadily builds you up to the edge once again.

chris watches with growing arousal as he sees the expressions of pleasure on your face. it's one of his favorite things about you - how lost you get in moments like these. the sight is so enticing that without realizing it, his hand grazes over his own growing arousal through his towel. he bites down on his bottom lip, unable to break eye contact with you. you want him to feel good just as much as you're feeling right now.

it's not foreign to the three of you, to let them both share you. usually, you split your time in between the two of them. but in moments like these, when you had them both to yourself, they were more than happy to please you at the same time.

from an outside perspective it can be alarming and taboo. and weird. but to the three of you, it became the most sexually satisfying and almost natural relationship to be experienced. at first, the arrangement was hard as you navigated the uncharted territory of sharing your heart, body, and soul with two vastly different men.

but once the initial hesitation melted away, a world of unparalleled intimacy opened before you. chris and matt became your twin flames, each illuminating unique facets of your deepest desires. with chris, passionate trysts of unbridled lust set your very being ablaze, his insatiable hunger to possess you leaving you breathless. matt, in contrast, worshipped you with a tenderness that rendered you amazed, cherishing every inch of your form as if it were a masterpiece crafted solely for his reverence.

you existed in a realm of pure ecstasy, the three of you inseparable as you reveled in the delights of your unorthodox bond.

"need some help baby?" you ask and he wastes no time shuffling closer to you, your face now directly in his crotch as he tugs the towel down, eager to feel your mouth on him.

matt picks up speed a little as you feel him deep inside you and you whine as stick out your tongue, sliding it along the side of chris's cock before smushing your wet lips against it. he groans and lets out a deep moan, his jaw slackening as he watches you.

he grips your hair tight in his hand and pushes his cock into your mouth. "did my sweet girl get off without me, hm? being all needy with matt while i was in the shower" he says with a smirk.

his words cause you to moan around him, the vibration sending waves of pleasure through his body. you look up at him with the most innocent of expressions, and he pants as your lashes flutter, taking him deeper into your mouth and down your throat.

"fuck.. you're so beautiful.." he groans while his hands find their way to your breasts, kneading them gently, as your hips rocked back and forth, meeting matt's every thrust. It was a symphony of lust and desire, with the sounds of skin slapping against skin, accompanied by your muffled moans and chris's whimpers.

"damn, you're so wet..." matt groaned, his voice raw with lust. "I bet you've been dreaming of this, haven't you, baby?"

you moaned in response, too consumed by pleasure to form coherent words. matt's angle changed, hitting that spot deep inside you, sending electric jolts of pleasure shooting through your body.

your orgasm is fast approaching, and between their combined efforts, it feels so damn good that you think you might just pass out from pleasure. you clench around matt so tight he's seeing stars and your muffled cries are heard as you cum around his dick.

through it all, you manage to keep your head bobbing sloppily on chris, his hands still holding your hair as you suck him off as best as you can with matt pounding into you from behind.

"shit baby, feels so fucking good.." chris says and he shudders, his seed spilling onto your face, as matt slammed into you one last time, filling you up.

all three of you are spent and panting, your bodies covered in a mix of sweat and arousal and once matt catches his breath and cleans you up, he goes to run the shower again, letting you know to join him when you're ready.

chris holds you close to him before you go, pressing sweet kisses to your cheek. "that little fucker is crazy if he thinks i'm not getting my own fuckin' fancy camera to make our own private movie. better than whatever mediocre shit he filmed..."

a/n: in conclusion im a whore for chratt im sorry 🤷🏻‍♀️

taglist!! <3

@sturniolopepsi @tillies33ssss @whicked-hazlatwhore @riasturns @christhopersturniolo @junnniiieee07 @seahorsie11 @inveigledvex @mattslolita @certifiednatelover @glassesmattsbae @eryismum @sturncakez @wh0resstuff @ribread03 @sturniololoco @75sturn @mattscoquette @jnkvivi @h3arts4harry @chrizznmetswife @bambi-slxt @streamermattsgf @mattspolitank @sturnsxbitvh

[iwaasfairy]

Daddy Toji using his daughter at a placeholder for his late wife. Obsessed with breeding her and making her into the perfect housewife

tw incest, dirty talk, daddy x daughter, grooming and traditional role stuff, age gap, slight size

You’ve got your back to him when you bend at the waist and hum, distractedly glancing between your work and him when he clears his voice. “Oh, daddy! I’m almost done here. Could you call Megumi nii to the table too, pretty please?” Your hair sways over your back when you straighten up, place the gloves on the stove and go to get some plates from the cabinets — for which you have to stand on your tippy toes. A few seconds of trying where your approximation of a shirt rides up even higher on your sternum, and he gets comfortable in the doorframe.

He’d hate it more if you were going out dressed like that for anyone else. Luckily for him, you know your place. You’re a good girl. “What’re you doin’, squirt?” He asks, crossing his arms over his chest. Not that it really matters. “Come here.” After a few more moments of fluttering around the room, you finally cast your pretty eyes on him, and let them catch his gaze. You bite your lip, then let his hand pull you in by your neck to snuggle into his chest.

You lean up to kiss under his chin, tickling the stubble, and drag your face down his throat devoted as you are, until your face can rest onto his pecks. “Made dinner for you and niichan! You forget to eat if I don’t, so I thought it’d be good.” Heat creeps up onto your face when he trails his fingers down your neck to loop under your spaghetti straps, arms still looped loosely around his waist.

“That so?”

“Is that okay?” You quietly ask then. Your eyes search for approval so blatantly, and your lips puff out in a little pout that makes him smile. Instead of an answer, he pulls you closer by the base of your neck, and pushes his lips to your crown. Your hands smooth over his forearms, picking at the hair of them absentmindedly. He doesn’t mind. It’s cute.

“‘Ya like helping out in the house like a good little wife?” He can feel you nod against him, and the way your lips brush against his heartbeat through his shirt. “Yes, you like helping? Or yes, you’re trainin’ to be someone’s little housewife.”

Your arms wrap a bit tighter, and a puff of air comes through the fabric. “I wanna be good for you and Gumi nii, is all. If daddy asks me to do something of course I will… But as for being someone’s housewife…I don’t- I…” When you turn your face to look up at him, you’re only inches apart. He can see the thought before it comes, and you go to pull onto his shirt where his heart is. Tugging for attention, for him to put you out of your misery. He knows it means ‘help me, daddy’, even if you can’t say it out loud.

He can’t help the grin that tugs at the sides of his mouth, and he squeezes your soft cheeks between his fingers to keep you in place. And you basically melt. “You got someone in mind who you wanna serve like that, then? Is it Megumi nii?” His low voice makes you shiver, and bite back a noise of your own- but only barely.

“Agh, d-daddy.”

It’s cruel. But you’re just so fucking adorable when you’re tripping over yourself in need of his approval. “I think you know exactly what you want in return for all this, hm?” His mouth hovers close enough to yours to feel your breathing on his lips, count every speck in your eyes. You’re burning up, and your hands start gliding around his chest like you’re searching for purchase. “Do you know that little housewives also serve in other ways?”

Your eyes flutter when he whispers. “I know that.” Your voice is whiny already, throwing on a winning pout that he knows for sure works on Megumi. You might not be fully conscious of it, but you’re a little vixen in the making. Which is exactly why you’re not going anywhere without him. “Daddy~” You whine when he lets the silence linger with his hand on your face, and your fingers finally dig into his biceps to pull yourself closer to him. You’re basically melting yourself to his front before he allows you another bit of give, and his lips brush against yours.

“What’s it you want as a thank you?” Just close enough to make you look so frustrated you might cry. Instead of responding, you bite your lip, and shift between both legs, pushing them together. You can’t quite say it, but you’re not subtle. The grin travels up his cheeks, he can’t help it. “Wanna show daddy you know something about serving, s’ that it?”

There’s an unintentional glint in your eye. “That’s it, ain’t it, baby.” The way you open and close your mouth like a fish out of water has him walking you back until your thighs hit the table, and you let out a noise that has his brain tingling. If you didn’t make it so fucking easy, maybe he wouldn’t tease you like this. “Tilt your head back. Let me see your pretty, little body. You’re such a daddy’s girl.” Maybe he’d be content letting you fly out of the nest on your own. But you stare up at him dumbly, embarrassed eyes flicking all over the room, as your breathing pinches. “Who knew you’d grow up to be such a little whore…”

“Daddy.”

You know what you’re doing. Panting it with such a little whine that it's making his groin all hot, blood rushing down. He can feel his balls pull, and how his cock twitches to life when you moan. “Daddy- love you.”

His lips slide from your forehead straight to your neck, ignoring the way you crane your head to get closer. Instead he wraps one hand around your thigh, and pulls it up to make room for his waist between your legs, as he places a kiss on your throat. “D-daddy, I-,” heavy breathing punctuates your struggle, and you whimper, “my body f-feels- weird~ And I’m lightheaded.” There’s another little noise, before you press your center back against him instinctively, and he places teasing kisses down the skin, dragging his stubble where it makes you shiver. “Tell me what to do, please.”

“Nothing,” Toji chuckles instead, “let it happen. You wanted this, right?” He pushes you down onto the table until you’re squirming and kisses become tongue and teeth, and your hands start grabbing at his wide shoulders. Your whimpering only increases, and his center needs the friction your body can provide. He could feel shame about the precum dripping down his cock even without proper touch. But he’d be pretending. “You wanna serve daddy like a real wife would?”

He wants to, too. Daddy wants to feel that little daughter pussy squeezing around his cock too. Crossing that line is as easy as breathing, when it's you. His fingers drag up the inside of your thigh until you freeze up entirely when he drags them over your panties, pulling back to watch.

You look so fucking cute innocent and unknowing and woefully underequiped to handle any of this. Embarrassment plays in your eyes in the form of big, glittery tears that wobble on your lash line as he pushes a little more on your slit, feeling the wetness seep through. And you swallow. This is making him so hard. Your pants, faint and desperate, make his cock rock solid in his sweats.”Y-yeah. Wan’it.”

“If you don’t say it properly, I can’t help you. What do you want?” The look he gives you doesn’t leave room for discussion, and you squeeze him a little closer with your legs. Voice desperately trying to hold back the whines. Thick fingers grind the panties into your slit to rub circles over your clit, before he peels away the undies to let them snap back. “The food’s getting cold, we’re running out of time.”

“Daddy~ Please!” You pant, pulling his hand closer to your pussy. It takes a few seconds for you to think over the possibilities, before you finally let out a cry. “Wanna see daddy’s body. Please. Wanna touch it.” You pull at the elastic of his sweats, and look between your two bodies with unfocused eyes. Your bitten lips are puffy and full of blood when you release then from between your teeth. “Wanna be rewarded like a ‘good little wife’ would. Please? Please.”

That’s all you had to say, doll. He pulls your panties down just enough to reveal your glistening pussy to the warm, kitchen light— before smiling down at you. With one hand he pulls up the shirt over his shoulders, while the other grips his hot, throbbing cock through the already sticky, dampened fabric. A few dry pumps, before he’s pushing it down until his thick cock jumps out. Reddish, hot, and twitching in his hand. “Open your legs more. And give me your hands.”

You let him wrap your hands around him so easily, whispering pleas when his cockhead kisses your pussy. “Now lead daddy inside you… That’s it~”

[rinhaler]

😩🤌 HOLD OOOOON JEALOUS UNCLE SUKUNA PLEASE? Extra Rough with a Sprinkle of loving

I got carried away but when don't I get carried away tbh also this is super icky sorry in advance hehe

warnings: 18+ MDNI, fem!reader, incest, kinda cheating?, vaginal penetration, anal mention/slight teasing, degradation, pet names, jealousy, possessiveness, hair pulling, spanking, squirting, creampie.

words: 4.3k

There are eyes on you that you don’t feel. For the first time in your life, you don’t feel them. You’re engrossed in your phone as you swing gently in the hammock chair on your porch. The one that’s been continuously taken care of and maintained by him.

He watches you as you smile and bite your lip, your thumbs moving a mile a minute as you send reply after reply and wait with bated breath for a response in return. Even clearing his throat does little good. Is he really so invisible to you, now?

“Who is he?” he asks, muttering to your younger brother as he stands at the entry gate in your front yard. Your brother is confused, unsure of who he’s talking about. He looks around, until Sukuna looks at him directly. “You aren’t that stupid, are you? Look at her. Who’s the idiot she’s texting?”

Your brother looks in your direction, the cogs coming to life in his brain as he realises what he’s talking about. He smiles at him, but it soon fades as he sees your uncles disgruntled expression.

“Oh, she’s been bringing this guy around a lot called Megumi but she keeps saying they’re just friends. We all think it’s bullshit but—”

“That’s enough.” he groans. He puts his finger and thumb into his mouth and whistles loudly. Your eyes dart up from your phone, your giddy expression soon changes to one of surprise. “Hiya, princess.” he greets you, disappointed expression unchanging.

You get up from your seat, dropping your phone, and walk over to him. Even with both of his hands filled with gift bags, he wraps one around you and holds the small of your back. He kisses your cheek sweetly, pulling away to look at you properly.

“You’re getting prettier by the day, sweetheart.” he finally smiles. “You should drop out and become a model.”

“Looks fade, uncle Ryo, I’ll be a lawyer ‘til I’m old and grey.” you smirk. “You got us gifts again? You didn’t have to.”

“Speak for yourself.” Yuuji mumbles as he walks by you and into the house.

Your uncle shakes his head at him, a warm smile returning to him as he looks at you. You allow him to guide you inside, your phone a distant memory while his hand holds your shoulder.

You join Yuuji in the front room, sitting beside him on the couch while your uncle places the bags in front of you both. He sits nearby, in your dad’s old chair, while he watches you both sift through your gifts.

Well, you assume he’s watching you both. But those ruby eyes of his remain perfectly fixed on you. They wander to Yuuji every so often when he expresses gratitude for the gifts he’s received, but all he cares about, truly, is you.

“Is this a new laptop?” you ask, jaw almost dropping to the floor as you see it. “This must have cost a fortune. You didn’t have to do this.” you smile.

“It’s fine, I got you both one. What’s the point of my sister having kids if I can’t spoil them? Where is she, by the way?”

“Wait,” you stop him as you go through the rest of your gifts. “New stationary, bags, files. You got me all of this stuff for college? Thank you.” you beam. You jump up and sit in his lap, wrapping your arms around him and squeezing tightly, the intensity makes him wonder if you’ll ever let go.

Unfortunately for him, you do.

“She texted me a few minutes ago saying they’ve changed her shift and she won’t be back until late.” Yuuji says nonchalantly as he continues looking through his stuff.

“What?! She said she’d give me a ride tonight. I’m gonna have to get a taxi, where’s my phone?” you ask, leaping up from your seat in your uncle’s lap as you check all of your pockets. You head towards the front door to check the last place you’d been with it, when you suddenly feel his hand encase your wrist.

“Talk to me.”

“She’s meant to be taking me to the movies for my d- uh, I’m meeting a friend.” you explain.

“Boyfriend, you mean.” Yuuji mumbles before coughing loudly to cover up his comment.

“Shut up.” you snap back. “But I’m gonna have to book a taxi and start getting ready now in case I’m late. Thanks for the gifts, uncle Ryo.” you smile as you turn away to leave. But he squeezes your wrist hard, pulling you back to him.

“I’ll take you. Alright?” he tells you. “Just let me know when you’re ready to go.”

“Really?” you smile. “Thank you.”

“… What are uncles for, hm?”

Hours pass, time spent doing your makeup and choosing an outfit with texts sent to Megumi in between. Sukuna’s foot has been tapping incessantly as he waits for you, resisting the urge to check in on you every five minutes. He’d give anything to be in your room while you dress, allowing him to approve of your attire.

But instead, you appear hours later in a pair of shorts that would make him lose control in his younger years, but even now, he feels stirring in his slacks. A slight tightening that he’s fighting to ignore.

“Not leaving anything to the imagination, are you?” he grumbles, looking you up and down. You’re too irritated by his comment to notice the fact his eyes linger on your bare midsection and rake over your chest. Your little crop top almost looks too small for you, to him, with the way it accentuates your tits. “It’s a bit much for a movie.”

“Don’t start, I’m not changing. It’s so hot out I just wanna be comfy. Can we go?”

“Move, then.” he scowls.

You scoff, walking out ahead of him. He watches as you walk away before trailing after you. You’re mistaking his rage for sulking. You’ve never seen your uncle angry, not really.

If only you knew, he’s seething.

You spend twenty minutes in the car with him, panicking that you’re going to be late. You’d hate to picture Megumi there, waiting for you all on his own. You’ve texted him a few times to let him know you’re on your way, but you’re yet to hear back from him.

“Can you, like, do something?!” you ask before gluing your eyes back to your phone.

“What?” your uncle responds, teeth clenched as he looks over to you. His anger brewing further as he sees Megumi’s name with a bunch of heart emojis at the top of your phone. “Should I pick up the car and carry you it through the streets for you, darlin’?”

“If it’ll get us there faster, yes.”

“Tch.” he scoffs. “You know the world won’t end if you put your phone down for five minutes.”

“I’m letting him know I’m gonna be late! Is that alright with you?!”

“Him. The boyfriend, not friend. You lied.” and before he can stop himself, he speaks without thinking. “You should be ashamed of yourself.”

Your eyes widen at his words. And you can’t decide if you’re furious or devastated. Ashamed? Is he ashamed of you? You don’t know why he would be. He’s never said anything so mean to you before. In fact, you don’t think he’s ever said anything cruel to you in your life.

“What’s your problem?” you speak, your volume a little louder than intended.

“You are. I don’t even recognise you. Throwing yourself at college boys and dressing like a little slut. I thought I brought you up better than that.”

“You didn’t bring me up. Just because you visit with gifts every few months doesn’t mean you’re my fucking dad, Ryo. You’re barely an uncle.” you bite back. There’s more you could say, but you’re silenced by an incoming text from Megumi. “FUCK! I’m so stupid. Take me home, I got the time wrong.”

He grunts, turning the car around roughly before he parks down a nearby alleyway.

“Get out.” he orders.

“Huh?”

“Get out of my car, princess. You think you can disrespect me like that in my own fucking car? Get out and call a cab.”

Your heart sinks when you realise he’s far from joking. He actually wants you to get out of his car. In fact, he’s waiting for it. It’s hard to know if it’s genuine, if he’s legitimately planning on leaving you in a creepy alleyway all on your own and driving away. You hope he’s just trying to scare you, but the air is getting thicker.

His stare becomes harsher.

Your heart beats faster.

“I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to disrespect you…” you pout. “Don’t make me get out, please. You’ve been so… off with me today. And I’m embarrassed I got the time of this date wrong and—”

“So it is a date after all, huh?” he sighs.

“We’re, ugh, we’re friends but—” you cover your face in embarrassment. “We keep talking about taking things further, but it’s just a movie I don’t know if it’s a date. Maybe we’re just gonna be friends forever and he isn’t interested at all.” and with that, you’re officially sulking, humiliated that you spilt your little secret to your uncle of all people. You feel his eyes on you, but you don’t want to look.

If they’re the same harsh eyes that told you he’s ashamed, you don’t want to see them ever again.

“Is that why you’re dressed like an easy whore tonight? Hah? Thought he’d be more interested if you put more on show.”

“Why are you being such a dick?!” you yell. The silence is too much, his bewildered face catches you off guard. It’s like he hadn’t expected you to raise your voice. You both maintain your silence, equally at a loss for words. But it goes on too long, and unintentionally, you feel the need to fill it. “What, are you jealous? Bet it’s been a while since you got any action, old man.”

“Old?” he scoffs. “What are you talking about, action? You wouldn’t do that… would you?” he asks, there’s venom coating his tongue, but it’s overridden by curiosity.

“Why do you think I dressed like such a… ‘little slut’, huh?” you laugh as his expression changes once again, he’s uncomfortable, so you decide to poke the beast. “We got seats in the back row… I don’t even care about the movie, it’s just an excuse to put our hands down each other’s pants.”

“That’s enough.”

“Why?”

You watch him as he unbuckles his seatbelt with haste. If you had blinked you would have missed it, and it’s not long before he does the same to yours. You’re weightless as he pulls you from your seat and into his lap, a few pathetic ‘ow’s’ leave your lips as he positions you over him.

“What are you doing?” you ask him, a combination of worry and curiosity overwhelming you.

“You really wanna get felt up at the movies by a little college boy? How pathetic you are… I thought you were better than that.” you’re too stunned to speak as his words consume you. Has he always been so protective of you? Has he always had this side to him? You don’t want to move. You barely want to think in case he doesn’t like how your thoughts sound. You gulp, nervously, and he smirks in amusement.

His fingers trail lightly across your chin before he holds it carefully between his thumb and forefinger. He licks his lips as his eyes examine your features. There is hunger in his ruby irises, a starved man sizing up the meal he’s worked so hard for.

But he’s patient.

He thinks it’ll be fine, nothing he does will make you object.

Though he can’t be too careful. So he proceeds with caution, allowing his fingers to carry on tracing downwards. Your wide eyes turn to a heavy lidded gaze as you feel the pads of his fingers softly dance across the column of your neck. His eyes follow the path they take, looking up once or twice to make sure you still aren’t opposed to his touch.

You gulp, again, when you feel him touch atop your breasts, and his eyes stay fixed on yours for a moment longer. But he’s greedy, now, unable to withstand the growing bulge in his pants or the thoughts he has about you in order to cure him.

He hooks his index finger into the low scoop of your crop top and pulls downwards. You’re unable to stop yourself from shuddering, and he looks up at you with a sympathetic stare.

“This is… wrong.” you speak, a slight whimper in your voice.

He grins, though he tries to hide it from you.

“How can it be wrong, sweetheart?” he asks. He holds your hips in heavy hands and pushes you down onto his clothed erection. “Feel how good you make me feel? Let me make you feel good, too. Megumi won’t satisfy you, I promise you that.”

“Ryo…” you sigh, soon stifled as he helps you roll your hips onto him. “It’s wrong… you know it is…”

“Well, maybe I don’t care,” he hisses, his cock leaking from the friction between you. He allows his head to droop back against the head rest behind him, smiling up at you as he realises you’re beginning to move all on your own. “I don’t think you do, either.”

Your eyes fill with water, and you bat your eyelashes in a bid to dismiss it. How did this happen? How did you get to this point? Maybe you’ve been waiting for Megumi for too long. Maybe some part of you knew you’d end up here with him. And maybe you want it just as much as he seems to.

“Naughty girl… give me a kiss,” he demands, fingers caressing the column of your spine before he pushes you down towards him.

A little whine escapes your lips before you submit to him. The feelings of his bulge nudging against your clit is enough to make you lose all sense. It’s clumsy and uncomfortable, a chaste kiss as if you were kissing your uncle turns into a sloppy, tongue tangling kiss as you soon dismiss that familial bond.

He pulls away, groaning slightly before he yanks down your crop top and exposes your bare tits.

His jaw tenses as he looks up at you again, as if he were withholding something he so desperately desired to say. But instead, he silences himself, taking a nipple into his mouth and sucking experimentally.

Your eyes roll back into your head, your hand carding through tufts of pink hair. It’s been a while since you’d been intimate with anyone like this, the sensation making you weak and needy. The slightest touch feels enough to make you cum, though you hold back, savouring the way his hand holds your other breast and rolls your nipple between his finger and thumb.

You wonder if he sleeps around a lot, you wonder if he’s gotten laid recently. You want to know how good he is. You’ve heard from girlfriends that older men do it better, but you’ve never experimented so cavalierly, you wouldn’t even know where to meet one.

Little did you know you’ve had an older man vying for your attention all along.

“How do you like it?” he asks, breath fanning across your drool soaked tit before he swaps which one he suckles. You hiss a little as he grazes your perked nipple purposefully between his teeth.

“I— It’s good,” you say, shyly, body heating up further when you hear a small laugh leave his lips.

“No, baby. How do you like to fuck?” he asks again. You think you might pass out from the shame. Though it’s shameful enough that you’re allowing your uncle to suck your tits. You screw your eyes shut before opening them again, hoping that this could possibly be a bad dream you just need to wake up from. But he’s still there when you open your eyes, still looking up at you with a cocky grin as he observes your embarrassment consuming you.

“I don’t— I don’t really—”

“You’ve proven yourself to be a little slut, so you must have a preference. What happened to that mouth of yours, huh? You were so desperate to talk about your little classmate touching you up later.” he reminds you, and you pant from the humiliation. Any attempt to wriggle away is halted by him wrapping his arms around your torso and keeping your body glued to his. “How many little pricks have you let slut your cunt out, sweetheart?”

“Ryo…” you gasp, breathing becoming erratic. It’s too much, he chuckles as you start to fan yourself. “I don’t know anymore. I can’t think.” you explain.

“Have you lost count, princess? That’s disgusting, don’t you think?” he tuts, mock repulsion lacing his words. He only half means it. He’s disgusted that so many useless little boys have felt you wrapped around them without any inkling of how to truly satisfy you. “They don’t matter, now. No one will make you feel as good as I’m going to, you won’t want anyone else when I’m through.”

“This is… it’s a one time thing. Okay?” you tell him, and his smug smile only grows wider.

“We’ll see,” he starts, his fingers dig into the flesh of your ass as your shorts ride up. A pathetic yelp flees from you as his stinging palm lands on your body. “I don’t really care how you like it, I was just curious.”

“… how do you like it, Ryo?”

“It depends, princess.” he bites his lower lip. “But if it’s just this once, you’ll let me fuck you how I like. You’ll be a good girl for uncle Ryo, won’t you?”

You blink a few times. Are you really so easily manipulated? Are you really still grinding down on the throbbing bulge of your uncle? Your silence speaks volumes, to him. And with his patience wearing thin, you find yourself being thrown awkwardly into the back seat.

He takes a deep breath before stepping out, from behind the wheel and opening the back door.

You watch him as he unbuckles his belt, and he smiles when he notices you watching. He slows down the action, allowing you to savour the sight of him undressing. He stops after his cock springs free, slapping off his abdomen and leaving a pretty trail of pre on his pristine white shirt.

“Have you never seen a big dick before? You look scared.” He chuckles. You don’t say a word, and without realising you’re shaking your head. You thought you had, but apparently they were nothing in comparison to actual big dicks. You’re terrified, almost horrified, but you can’t look away.

Not until he tells you.

“Sluts take it from behind. Turn around.” he orders, and you immediately position yourself onto your hands and knees.

You squeal when his fingers curl into the waistband of your shorts and yank aggressively. He doesn’t pull them off, they remain around your thighs and keep your legs perfectly pressed together. His cock throbs at the sight, holding one of your ass cheeks and moving your lower half from side to side. You’d decided to forgo panties, and he couldn’t be happier.

The sight of your drooling cunt makes up for what has felt like an eternity of patience.

You scream, again, as you feel a multitude of spanks in quick succession. He thinks he might legitimately lose it at the sight of your holes clenching, and surprise rips through you as you feel a thumb pressed to your puckered hole. You cover your mouth to stop you from yelping at the unexpected touch, but he merely groans.

“Have you taken it here before?” he asks.

“… no… I h—aven’t,” you answer honestly. He hums in contemplation. He spits down onto your asshole and rubs his thumb across it gently.

“Next time, hm?” he muses to himself. Despite his words, he guides his cockhead to your tight hole. The thick tip rubbing teasingly against it. He doesn’t breach it, but the teasing alone feels pleasant. “I think you’ll like it…”

And with that, he moves from your rear entrance and plunges brutally into your drooling slot. You cry out, the unexpected entry taking you by surprise. He hushes and coos as your walls adjust to his girth.

The intensity of the pressure gives away to pleasure soon enough. Internally, he wants to be rough with you. He will be rough with you. However, he can’t ignore the fact that you are and always have been so precious to him. The thought of hurting you is hold him back.

But a deeper, darker part of him with a bruised ego overrides his conscience.

His fingers grab your hair harshly and wrap around his hand as if you were a dog on a leash. He pulls you until your back arches gloriously for him, and he uses the leverage to fuck into you harder.

He’s all too aware of the risks he’s taking. If anyone were to walk by they’d see exactly what he’s doing and has made no attempt to hide. Standing confidently outside the car with your ass on full display for anyone who’d dare to look. He could get arrested, your family could find out.

But it’s been too long of a wait for this taboo coupling for him to let something so trivial deter him from this. From you.

He’d like to hold off in favour of extending your pleasure. He’d like to see you cum and make a mess of his cock before he fills you to the brim with his creamy load. He’d like to see your pussy twitch and struggle to hold in his kids after he fucks them into you.

But he’s just a man, after all.

He doesn’t care if you cum anymore. He did, but this is for him. His heavy tip rocks repeatedly into your sweet spot and your raucous moans are bound to catch attention sooner or later. He’d love to stifle you in some matter, whether by covering your mouth or shoving his cock down your throat. But he can’t. His hands are still filled as one remains wrapped around your hair and the other keeps a bruising grasp on your hip.

He wants to tell you to shut up, he wants to tell you you’re being too loud and you’re soon to be spotted. But he can’t, he’s proud of you. Your pussy begins to suck him in and pulses around his thickness.

He chuckles and further fuels your shame as your pussy begins to gush from the pressure. Clear liquid jets out of you, dousing his cock, your shorts and his leather seats as you cum from the staggering sensation of being ploughed by your very own uncle.

The sight has him gritting his teeth as he uses your quivering cunt to reach his own satisfaction. His head falls back as he spurts stream after stream of viscous white cum into your womb. The warmth makes you hum contently, giggling as his movements slow, still determined to fuck his seed deep into you. He doesn’t even want to pull out, but the chill of the night air brings him to his senses.

You’ve been lucky to get away with this.

He pulls out, admiring the sight of his sperm dripping down into your shorts as he tucks himself away.

Your body is tired, but you find the strength to pull up your now soiled shorts before slowing making your way back to the passenger seat. You sigh, taking a few deep breaths as you contemplate what just happened.

“You look tired.” your uncle says casually as he starts up the car.

He’s right. You look at yourself in the mirror before you fold it back up, too disgusted with yourself to even look at how dishevelled and smeared your perfectly applied makeup has become. It’s all ruined. There’s no point in seeing Megumi, now. As excited as you were, you can’t go like this. You can’t let him see you like this.

Whenever you see someone walk by as your uncle drives you home, you can’t help but think they know. When your car stops at a red light, you think the people in the car beside you know. If you go and see Megumi tonight…

He’ll know.

YOU: sorry Megs, can we reschedule? My uncle just got to town x MEGUMI: of course. don’t worry about it, have fun with your uncle x

He reads your messages out of the corner of his eye, and does all he can to supress the satisfied smirk desperate to break out across his face. The tension in the air is thick enough to cut with a knife, he understands. You did something wrong. But that isn’t why it’s so quiet.

You’re quiet, and uncomfortable, because you liked it.

You can’t make eye contact with him, because you liked it.

And you can’t talk to him normally, because you want to do it again.

Your body language tells him all he needs to know. He’ll be in town for as long as you need to wrap your head around this. As long as you need to confess how desperately you desire him once more. It’ll only be one more time. Every time you tell him, beg him, crave him to make you feel good again, you’ll say it’s the last time.

But that one last time will never come.

Poor Megumi, he has no idea just how much fun your uncle intends to have with you.

© 2024 rinhaler

[jamespotterismydaddy]

Spoil of War

dark!aegon x niece!reader

summary: aegon enjoys his time with his prisoner of war

A/N: my bad y'all, it took me forever to get this up

TW: MAJOR DUBCON, smut!!, bondage, incest, violence, kidnapping, degradation, body worship perhaps

word count: 2,245 words

You sit in your childhood bedroom, stewing with your thoughts. It was all so quick, the battle with Daeron, the demise of your dragon. You should be grateful; she spent her last moments cushioning your fall so you wouldn’t die on impact, but you can’t help thinking that you would be better off dead. There’s hardly anything worse than being a prisoner of war, except being Aegon’s prisoner of war.

Speak of the Devil, Aegon has the guards open your chamber doors and the smug bastard strolls in. “Ah, my sweet niece. I finally have the chance to lay my eyes on you.” He regards your nightgown with great interest. You haven’t had a chance to dress yourself for the day yet. “You’ve been quite the subject of controversy as of late.” He says with a light smirk.

“Which part is controversial, the fact that you’re keeping me prisoner, usurper?” You say back to him with spite.

“Oh, don’t be so melodramatic. It’s a temporary situation.” He says, unconcerned as he walks over to your dining table of untouched food and picks up an apple, taking a bite of it. “Once your mother bends the knee, i’ll return you to her. It’s as easy as that.”

“Or they’ll take control of King’s Landing and Daemon will slaughter you where you stand.” You’ve never heard your voice filled with such hate before as when you speak now.

“Come on, the threats are hardly necessary. You are safe with us - for the time being.” He makes a stupid joking cringe face at the second part of his sentence. “You could do with being more amicable.”

“Amicable? I’m your fucking prisoner and if her Grace the Queen doesn’t bend the knee to your spoiled, traitorus ass, you’ll execute me.”

“War doesn’t often give you many options. And you, my dear niece, are a very valuable bargaining chip.” As he speaks, you know he takes the utmost pleasure in you being in his control. You want to wipe the smug grin off his face.

You reach for the piece of glass you had hidden, ever so slowly. You feel your hand clutch it and your gaze is filled with rage as you launch yourself at him. “You traitor!” You aim for his throat with the sharp point but he catches your arm. The broken glass barely grazes him, leaving only the thinnest line of blood as proof of your attack. He twists your arm and the piece of glass clatters to the floor. Your uncle releases you only so he can backhand you so hard that you fall to the floor.

“Gods, you’re a feisty little thing, aren’t you?” He wipes the drip of the blood off his neck. “Clever girl, going for the throat.” He laughs at you. You just tried to kill him and he laughs at you.

You glare up at him, your face distraught and full of vengeance. You quickly reach for the glass that you had dropped but as soon as you manage to grip it again, Aegon kicks you in the stomach. You curl into yourself, whimpering.

“Okay that’s enough of that. Guards!” The guards immediately enter the room, ready to defend their king. “Restrain her. Use… rope.” He has a certain look on his face as he says the last word, seemingly pleased with himself as he struts out of the room.

You’re left on your knees, by the fireplace for an hour until Aegon returns. Your hands behind your back, the bindings keeping you in place. There is, what you consider to be, an unnecessary amount of rope tied around your body that is seemingly for decoration, for your uncle’s pleasure.

“Are you calm now?” He asks as he strides back into your chamber with arrogance. “I wasn’t sure what the cool down time was for Strong bastards.” His stare is hungry as he looks upon you. “What a pleasant sight, my combative niece tied up at my feet.” He almost mumbles the last part.

“I will be calm when I watch your body burn.” There is heat in your words, your threats.

“That is a lot of big talk for a girl who is kneeling for her king. You’re much more desirable like this… when you’re helpless beneath my gaze.” His fingertips graze under your chin, tilting it up so you have to look at him. You jerk your head away.

“Don’t touch me!” You spit at his feet.

“Silly to say such things when you’re at my mercy.” He kneels down to look at you better, his fingers run along your soft hair. “I’ve never been more tempted. And i’ve been tempted many, many times.” He leans in to whisper in your ear. “I had forgotten how divine you are.”

You know where he’s going with this, what he wants. His finger trails down your nightgown, to your breast, giving it a light squeeze. “You’ll burn in the Seven Hells for this!” You say as you fight against your restraints.

He ignores your words. “If I were a more brazen man, i’d ravish you right here and now… oh wait.” He chuckles at his own joke.

The fire burns bright behind you and his dagger gleams in the warm light as he unsheathes it. He cuts one of the cap sleeves of your nightgown. “You have no right.” Your eyes flare bolder than dragonflame as you speak.

“Oh, my lovely sweet niece, I absolutely have the right because you are under my protection. If I want to rip that nightgown off and ravage you, who’s going to stop me?” He says sadistically… lustfully as he cuts the other cap of your gown.

“It’s not a proper way to treat an important bargaining chip.” You say softly. To be truthful, younger you would be preening at the chance to be so close to Aegon. Up until now, you had thought that part of you had died with Luke. Now, he’s so close, so... alluring.

“It’s not, but when have I ever been known to behave properly?” He then cuts your nightgown off of you, down the middle and as swiftly as he can without cutting through your bonds, leaving you naked other than the smallclothes that barely cover your lower half.

His eyes darken as he takes in the sight of you almost completely naked. His hand falls to your thigh, rubbing the smooth soft skin. “You’ve always had such a lovely figure, niece.”

You flinch and squirm some more. And then you begin to scream bloody murder. Aegon winces before grabbing part of your torn nightgown and shoving it in your mouth. “Such a noisy girl. Now, that’s better. You shouldn’t scream so much. I only intend to show you a good time. I promise you’ll love it.”  He smirks again. “Well… i’ll love it.”

His other hand trails up your navel, to your breast, giving it another squeeze. He then pushes you back on the flocculent carpet and what a sight you make with your hair splayed around you and your pretty mouth gagged. The pillows are strewn about you, in place so you can sit as close to the crackling fire as you wish. Now, it has become the perfect scene for Aegon to take you. He looks at you as if you are the maiden herself, descended from the heavens to be gifted to him. To him, your fairness outmatches Psyche… it outmatches Aphrodite. 

“You don’t know how long I have waited for this, princess.” He then rips your remaining small clothes off, leaving you completely nude. His eyes just rake over you for a moment before he speaks.  “Ah, a sight I could get used to.” He leans down to kiss your breast, focusing on your nipple, focusing on making you feel good? He litters little marks all over before moving to the other and giving it the same attention. He then begins to methodically kiss down your chest, to your tummy, past your navel. You know what he intends his final destination to be. You keep your legs clamped firmly shut, not fully because you want him to stop, and partly because of the wetness that lies between your thighs.

“Hm, a little shy, are we? How sweet…” It isn’t difficult for him to pry your legs open and he grins at the sight of you dripping for him. “Naughty little girl, all wet for her uncle.” 

You turn your heat to the side so you don’t have to make eye contact with him. He grabs your chin and turns your head back. “No. You will watch as I fuck you with my tongue.” You try not to groan as he licks up between your legs, his eyes on yours as his pupils blow wide. He kisses, licks and nips at you, taking you to places in pleasure you’ve never been before. When his tongue pierces your entrance, you can’t stop the whimper that falls from your lips. You hope the gag muted the sound enough that he wouldn’t hear, but your hopes are dashed when he lifts his head.

“I think I want to hear all the pretty little sounds that you make. No more screaming though. Unless, they’re screams of gratification.” He pulls the torn cloth from your mouth but you keep your lips stubbornly sealed. He shakes his head and chuckles before he is between your thighs again. The man eats you like you’re his last meal but you don’t let a single sound out, much to his displeasure even if he can tell that you don’t do it with ease. 

“Why must you be so difficult?” He asks exasperatedly.

“I want you dead.” He rolls his eyes at the statement. “Perhaps you aren’t as good at pleasuring women as you believe.” That pisses him off.

“You’re such a little liar.” He flips you over so your ass is in the air and your chest and face are squished into a cushion, your hands unable to hold you up due to their bindings. “Perhaps I need to fuck that bratty behaviour out of you.” He says and you hear the rustling of clothes behind you. You know he’s undressing and you know there’s no way you can stop him from taking you now, not with how you have pissed him off, not with how your cunt is so deliciously presented to him. But it won’t stop you from trying.

“Aegon don’t you dare.” You say with all the confidence you can muster. You don’t fear your maidenhood being taken, you fear the possibility of a bastard being put in your belly.

“Don’t you ever presume to tell me what I can and cannot do, wench.” With that, he shoves himself inside of you, all the way to the hilt. You let out a strangled moan and he laughs. “No keeping your sounds to yourself now.” He then begins to piston himself into you, the head of him brushing your cervix with each thrust. You feel so full every time his hips meet yours. “Gods i’ve never felt a cunt so tight and wet.” His hands grip your hips roughly so he can bring them back with each thrust, making it feel like he’s hitting deeper inside of you. 

“Aegon…” You whine out and squeeze a little around him.

“You like it, don’t you? You like it when your uncle fucks you. I’ve taken you as a prisoner and now you’re moaning in pleasure as I use you. What would your brothers think, what would your mother think, if they saw you taking my cock so well?”

You just whine his name again in response, your head too cloudy to give him an answer.

“I want you to say it. Say how much you love having me inside you.” He fucks into you so deeply that all you want to do is obey.

“I l-ove it, uncle. I love it when you fuck me.” You whimper out again as he stretches you so perfectly.

“That’s what I fucking thought.” His finger comes between your legs to rub your clit and you almost scream. “God, you’re such a little cockslut. Am I your first, little niece?”

“Y-Yes…” You say softly and he grins.

“I thought so. Nobody gets so worked up like a maiden.” He rubs you harder, so fast that you see stars. You begin to squirm a little as your walls begin to squeeze around his thick cock.

He grasps your hair at the roots and pulls your head back so you have to look him in the eye. “That’s right, cum around my cock, baby. Do it.” You fully reach your peak with his command. He watches your face contort with pleasure as you finish around his cock, drawing out his own orgasm. He gives a few more hard thrusts before spilling his seed in you. “Good girl.”

You wince as he pulls out, feeling empty now. He easily manoeuvres you back to your knees and stands up with you at his feet. He tilts your chin up so you have to look him in the eye again.

“I’ll be visiting you much more often now. You don’t have the kind of cunt a man can handle only fucking once.” His thumb strokes your cheek. For the depravity he speaks, his voice is surprisingly soft

“I hate you.”

He smiles gently. “Hate me all you want. I can take it.”

taglist (comment to be added): General: @valeskafics @urmomsgirlfriend1 @girlwith-thepearlearring @darylandbethfanforever9 @lovellies @juhdoche @papichulo120627 @watercolorskyy @ophelialaufey

[targaryen-dynasty]

HEAVY IS THE HEAD THAT WEARS THE CROWN.

Daemon Targaryen x niece!Reader

WARNINGS: SEXUAL CONTENT - MINORS DNI; canon typical incest/targcest (uncle and niece), kinda non/dub con, p in v, semi public sex, doggy style, degrading, slapping, possessiveness, jealousy

WORDS: 1.5 K

NOTES: This is something I had written and posted on another blog when I (rightfully so) didn't feel accepted and wanted in fandom. So, if any of you remembers this, it was written by me. This is Lingo Jam High Valyrian (it is what it is).

❗️𝐚𝐝𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐲 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭!

It’s way past the Hour of the Owl as you stand in the Throne Room all by yourself, all the tables for the guests of your coronation feast having already been cleared and stored away by the keep’s staff, leaving the room to be eerily quiet and empty. 

You stand in front of the intimidating Iron Throne, looming in the dim light of the candles around you, your fingertips barely brushing the sharp swords that were used to forge it by your ancestors, reminiscing about all the times you’ve seen your father sitting on it. 

Unlike your grandsire and father before you, you chose to wear the Conqueror's Crown and wield his sword, the big, square-cut rubies complimenting the red and gold gown you wear. 

The heavy doors leading to the intimidating chambers open behind you, but you don’t turn around, knowing all too well who intrudes the silence and serenity. His footsteps are heavy, bouncing off the thick columns and walls on his way. 

“Skoros iksis ziry ao jeldan naejot ȳdragon naejot nyke nūmāzma?” you ask, but before you’re able to turn around, the weight of your husband’s chest against your back pushes you forward, the ostentatious crown on your head toppling to the ground at the impact. What is it you wanted to talk to me about?

Both your hands immediately seize the armrests of the Iron Throne for support, more so when Daemon’s hand falls to the place between your shoulders to keep you exactly like you are, bowed forward with no chance to move. 

“Hm,” he hums, applying just a bit of pressure to your back. “How about the wanton farce you put up for that cunt of a Lannister?” he growls, and it’s clear it is not a question but an accusation. 

There is not one breath wasted when he rucks up the skirts of your gown and bunches it around your waist, fisting it with one of his large paws. The matter clearly is serious, and has occupied him for quite some time now, considering he prefers to answer you in the Common Tongue rather than High Valyrian. 

But it’s not like you have much time to really process the meaning behind it, considering he has the skirt of your dress in his hand in one moment, and your small clothes pulled down to your knees in the next. Your cunt is exposed to the chilly air of the Red Keep, and to anyone that chooses to intrude on such an intimate and disgraceful scene, and much to your husband’s surprise, you’re soaked with anticipation, which earns you a condescending scoff from him. 

He has quickly figured that there isn't going to come any reply from you, too caught up in the heat of the moment and the little predicament you’ve found yourself in, and forces a gasp from your lips as his hand not-so-gently collides with your bare rear. 

Your body slightly lulls forwards to escape the stinging pain that blooms on your skin, but to now avail. “I–I don’t know what you’re talking about!” you press with despair audible in your voice. 

But he just scoffs again. “Oh, I’m certain you don’t,” his voice is sharp, and the words underlined by another slap to your arse. “Need I remind Your Grace who they belong to?” The title is spoken in a way to make a mock display of his courtesy, displaying how little care he holds over your status at this moment.

You’re not quite sure what he is up to when you feel and hear him shifting and fumbling behind you, although you have a mild guess, until you feel the tip of his hard cock pressing against your soaked cunt. He pushes in even before you can answer, any words or pathetic protests dying on your tongue and replaced by a moan. 

“That’s what I thought,” he says more to himself, his tone suddenly taking on an air of smugness. His words are followed by a groan that flows into a heedless sigh as he bottoms out completely, his heavy stones pressing against your pearl. 

It’s a side to Daemon you haven’t seen or experienced before, despite growing up around him, his several liaisons and wives. There has never been something akin to jealousy coursing through his veins before. Yes, Daemon has always been a little too rough, too impatient and resolving matters by force rather than diplomacy, but you’ve never seen his blood run this hot. 

His upper body slightly bends forward and towers over yours as he rests one hand on the backrest of the Throne, the other still on your hip with your skirts tightly secured.

“What–” the words catch in your throat, replaced by a whimper. “What if anyone sees us?” 

“Jaelan zirȳ naejot ūndegon,” he growls. “Jaelan zirȳ naejot gīmigon bona iksā ñuhon.” I want them to see. I want them to know that you’re mine. 

The whine you release at that is nothing short of desperate. While the thought of anyone catching you two frightens you to the core, you enjoy the possessive side of him, reveling in his desire just for you since you’ve shared it most of your life with your younger sister. 

Pulling out of you almost completely, the tip of his cock is the only thing that remains buried inside of you. While the feeling of the sudden loss makes you whine and push your hips back to force him inside again, it also earns you another harsh slap that’s served to your arse. 

“Ao sagon ñuhon se mazemā skoros nyke tepagon ao, iksis bona shifang?” You're mine and you take what I give you, is that understood?

Daemon then slams his hips into yours as a warning, filling you up in a swift thrust that has you gasping, and knocks the air straight from your lungs. “Gaomagon daor mazverdagon nyke ivestragon ziry arlī,” he snarls. “Gaomagon. Ao. Shifang?” Each word is punctuated with a harsh snap of his hips.  Don’t make me say it again. Do. You. Understand?

“K… kessa,” you hiccup. Yes. 

The pace of his thrusts is nothing short of ruthless, and he uses the grip on your hip to pull you back onto his cock for your bodies to meet halfway, the most obscene sounds of skin slapping on skin echoing off the walls of the Throne Room.

His stones are heavy and the fleshy pouch they sit in slightly sagged, hitting your pearl perfectly each time he fills you to the brim, and sending shivers to the soles of your feet. 

Daemon forces your hips higher until you’re standing on your tiptoes for him, your body barely supported by his fingers digging into your hip. The angle changes with that, allowing him to shove his cock into you even deeper than before – a change that has him groaning and grunting over and over again. 

Your eyes lull into the back of your head, and the heat in your belly doesn’t diminish, causing a renewed wave of arousal to leak out of your core. 

Not caring if the skirts of your gown are riding down again, he grips the back of your neck firmly enough so you can’t turn your head, fucking you as if his life depends on it and knocking every breath clean out of your lungs. 

Daemon forces his hips into yours with such determination, he is close to shoving you up against the Iron Throne with the force of his need, your arms almost buckling under the weight he puts onto you. You can tell he’s racing for completion, effectively pulling you with him in the process. 

With the pace of his hips not faltering once, your peak washes over you in an ambush. The pleasure in your body gets intense enough for your legs to tremble, his hand that rests on the Iron Throne coming down to seize your hip to support you. Your walls clench around his cock tight enough for him to draw in a sharp breath, but the assault on your cunt doesn’t cease. 

“Qilōni gaomagon ao sytilībagon naejot?” Daemon groans, pulling you back onto his cock and fucking you through your peak. Who do you belong to? It’s almost as if he’s asking for your reassurance, wanting to be sure of your feelings for him. 

“A… ao,” you hiccup. “Ik… iksan aōhon.” You. I’m yours.

His peak crashes over him with your reassurance, his throbbing cock spending itself deep inside of your cunt. His hands trail up and down your sides in nothing else than pure bliss, and when it’s all over, he releases a sigh of relief, almost as if the pressure has fallen off his shoulders. 

He cups your arse with both hands, and squeezes your flesh. When he doesn’t make any move to pull out of you, however, it’s clear that he is relishing the way your drenched cunt embraces his flaccid cock.

“No one will make you feel as good as I do, dōna ābrazȳrys, and certainly no Lannister,” he rasps. “He would not know how to handle the Blood of the Dragon. You were made for me, and you belong to me. Always have, always will.” Sweet wife. 

Daemon Taglist: @hypocritic-trash-baby @schniiipsel @avalyaaa @baizzhu @yn-jackson

[sharkenedfangs]

— ☆ “IT’S ALL IN THE FAMILY.”

#. — synopsis : because you — you stupid little fuck, should have known better than to assume the worst out of this sick family you’ve been unwillingly forced into from your parents unfaithful divorce. well, guess what? you were fucking right, and now — you only have yourself to blame, baby brother.

#. — content warning! incest, step-cest, dub-con at best, non-con at worst, brief mentions of bullying and violence, alcohol intoxication, big brother whitney being a creep, whiny little sister kylar, daddy bailey being bailey, virgin male reader, semi-forced blow job, cream pie, shit writing and shittier plot with two disconnected scenes.

#. — word count? wait, you guys count the fucking words and don’t raw dog it in the notes app? like, real long, I guess. checked, it’s 7.5k w, jesus fucking christ.

#. — asher’s unhelpful note. “I did it purely for the sister fucking. so I had to churn something out. something filthy — and I mean fucking disgusting shit, y’know? (keep in mind, this is a repost of my old writing from around may, so if it’s dog shit then my writing has progressed from dog shit to even shitter dog shit.)

Divorces papers hastily signed away, the ink dotted onto the lines promising that this was indeed reality along with leathered suitcases packed to the brim. Family problems never were easy, much less when it had all happened far too quickly. To your parents separating, the familiar grip of your mother’s hand stringing you far away from the house you had grew up in, it all seemed like one bad dream. Unfortunately it wasn’t, no. This was the harsh reality of things, hands clasped on your shoulders as you were forced to introduce yourself to the man she had vowed to marry and the children he bore.

Fuck, if only your mother hadn’t remarried.

“This is stupid.” You muttered beneath your breath to which your mother, sharp as ever had somehow heard.

“Oh please, this is necessary. Unless you wish for us to keep on living in that cramped apartment? I am only doing what is needed for us to survive.” She sharply retorted back, not leaving much room to argue with as it was the truth. Your lives had been much more difficult since the divorce, selfish father that took everything else with him and went away to god-knows-where, probably off to spend it all in one go at the sleazy brothel in town. Filthy bitch.

Yes, it had been hard, but if you had been given one more year, finished school for real, graduated and got a job — Perhaps then, you would’ve been able to provide for the two of you and—

“Why don’t you introduce yourself, dear?”

Breaking out of your reverie, you had faintly registered then that you had arrived into this overly large establishment your mom referred to as your new home. Standing before you was probably the man she had fussed about so much during the uneventful drive. Dark, slicked back hair and stern eyes that dragged over your lips down to the curve of your throat, almost as if to criticize. His outstretched arm and hand stuck out waiting, that was probably for yours to shake which you reluctantly did.

“It’s nice to meet you, sir..?” You uttered coolly, enduring the firm grasp he had on your fingers till he finally was the first to pull away.

“Bailey.”

“Bailey.” You repeated back the unfamiliar name as if to slowly get used to it, knowing you wouldn’t.

“Whitney, Kylar, come down here and properly greet your brother.”

One boy — you assumed to be Whitney, a little older than you, stood at the top of the oaky staircase, perched over the banister. Ruffled blonde hair and sharp blue eyes hidden behind his fringe, eyeing you with disinterest as he made his way down the creaking steps and over to you.

“Nice to meet you.” He grinned, taking ahold of your hand in his with what was evidently a faux smile, one that didn’t quite reach his mean eyes that matched his father, a lingering streak of maliciousness in them. Even his grip, barely restrained in its force, threatened to crush your hand before ultimately letting go.

“You too.” Forcing a smile back, both of you knew then, the stifling tension that brewed in the air — Neither of you were going to get along here.

“Hey freak, it’s your turn.”

Another, you had barely noticed, a smaller girl scuffling about in the background, anxiously fiddling with the ends of her oversized sleeves, skittish green eyes purposefully avoiding your gaze whenever you so much as glanced her way. That must be the only daughter, Kylar. Cute thing she was, though your mind couldn’t allow yourself to continue that stray thought any further considering the implications that’d involve after meeting your soon-to-be-step-sister. Fucking get your mind straight, will you?

“P-Pleasure to meet you..” In contrast to her brother’s confident strides, she shuffled towards you before clasping your soft palms together in a hold, weakly shaking it.

“..Pleasure is all mine.” You replied, matching her weirdly formal way of speaking.

Well, she didn’t seem so bad compared to the rest.

The introduction didn’t last very long, lacking any real warmth usually found between two shared families merging together as one. It felt more stiff than anything though you couldn’t spare the thought to think it any further, an ushered murmur said to make yourself at home.

As you made your way over to your new room, hauling your hefty luggage up the wooden stairs, something within the depths of your guts stirred from the shared eyes that bore into the shape of your back, intently observing your every move.

The walls here felt unbearably bare.

Like the people that lived in it.

Ironically enough, your new room was much bigger than your older one, leaving little room to complain as you did when your mother had announced you’d be moving into a new place. All the reasons, no matter how good had earned nothing but a gentle shake of her head, dead set on her decision to drag you along. And to say you hadn’t even told Robin you’d be moving away, best friends since childhood that shared everything between the two, except for this apparently. Imagining his freckled face, worry etched across his features had you wanting to go back to the town you knew, knowing you couldn’t.

Sighing lowly, you sat down onto your bed, hearing the slightest crinkle beneath your weight as you felt an uncomfortable, sharp lump underneath it. That.. Reaching for the covers, you threw aside the thick blankets that covered the suspicious looking lump, revealing fresh packets of condoms haphazardly scattered across the sheets and an old, raunchy magazine displaying a cute-looking school boy getting brutally fucked against the lockers by his own bully.

Heat burned your face at the lewd sight, quickly shoving your little “gift” under your pillow so you couldn’t spare another glance at it. Fucking bastards and their sick jokes, “gifting” you shit like that.

You weren’t like them. Fucking perverts.

Were you?

—

Whitney was the first to change that.

From the first time he laid his eyes on you, you knew then what he thought of you, distaste apparent over his features, the slight curve of his upper lip curled into a snarl. It was obvious, your step-brother didn’t like you. Shit, maybe hate would be a more appropriate word for the things he’d do. Whitney had made it clear from the get-go, the empty names you’d call each other were utterly meaningless, rarely slipping past his own lips. ‘Little brother’. Fuck, you were a pain in his side more than anything else, dropping by unannounced into his life just like that simply because your shitty mother happened to divorce, meeting his dead beat father who then strung up with yours.

The blonde didn’t attempt to hide his obvious disapproval of your presence in his house, blatantly knocking his shoulder into yours whenever he passed by, mouth cruelly drawn into a snide grin as you toppled down to the cold, hard, wooden floor with a dull thud. The bullying didn’t stop there either, often encountering the delinquent in the school hallways, surrounded by his usual cronies that stuck to his side like a bunch of desperate, panting puppies, eager for his approval. They simply wouldn’t leave you alone, went through your damn locker too, ransacking everything that sat in there before carelessly throwing aside the remnants into a nearby trash bin, left to fend for yourself.

Weak, useless. That’s what you were to him, and nothing else. Soon enough, he’d get rid of you, have you snap and run away, it was merely a matter of time.

Well, that was the initial plan he had made up in his mind — Too fucking bad for the poor bully that life didn’t go always as planned, not when he caught you fresh out of the shower, worn towel snugly tucked around yours hips, a bit lower and he’d catch a glimpse of your— Fucking snap out of it, Whitney! The fresh droplets of water that’d trickle down the curve of your back, cascading over the smooth surface before gently dripping onto the fuzzy carpet below. Fuck. Didn’t help that he was staring a tad bit too hard, forcing himself to tear his gaze away from your bare form shamelessly displayed before him. You were doing this on purpose, weren’t you? Tryna get him all distracted, fill his thoughts with nothing but your thighs sticky with his cum, your lips lightly parted to obediently suck on his fat cock, lapping away at the beads of pre-cum that trickled over the curved length.

Knew he had cracked the second his hand had reached for his cock, fisting his dick for all it was worth, hem of his shirt roughly held between his teeth as he jerked himself stupid to the thought of you. His annoying little brother, fucking bitch, oblivious to the effects you had on him whenever he came with a stifled curse, several strings of cum that’d messily splatter across the curve of his toned stomach and his cotton sheets, staining it.

You, of course, lay ignorant to his frequent glances trailing over your frame, mistaking it for the hostility he had shown you over the past few weeks. You were partially right, except this time it was out of frustrated lust, cock stirring beneath his ripped jeans at the mere sight of his younger sibling now. God, not even the dumb whores that’d sloppily suck him off in the grimy bathroom stalls between classes did it for him anymore, eyes shut in a haze to imagine it was your mouth instead wrapped around the tip of his cock.

Dumb slut. Dumb fucking slut you were, didn’t know what he had in store for you. Take it as payback from having infested his mind with thoughts of you that stray to other thoughts and to other.. that’d eventually end in the same scenario, fucking your slutty mouth wide open.

Yeah.. Actually having you choke down on his cock didn’t sound half-bad now that he thought about it.

So why not make it happen?

It had been a mistake then to accept his offer over drinks, get to know each other better, he had cheerfully claimed with a friendly arm wrapped around your shoulder. Bullshit. Think he gave a shit about that? The only ache in his mind had went straight down to his slowly hardening cock underneath his grey sweats as his plan was brought into motion, insistently pouring more and more of his friends stolen bottle into your cup until you had lost track of the exact number. Prideful as ever, you had gulped it all down, unrelenting despite the nausea that had crept in your guts and the dizzying blur of your vision.

A hint of a rosy flush had started to spread throughout your skin, lightly dusting your cheeks with half-lidded eyes intently gazing back at your older brother’s slouched form atop the cushioned couch. The dribbling liquid sloshed lazily in the glassy bottle that threatened to spill from your weakened grasp on it. TV faintly flickering in the background, playing some outdated show that had since long been forgotten by the two of you, leaving the remote abandoned on the coffee table.

“Cmon, don’t be such a baby.” Whitney would taunt whenever you hesitated in your sluggish movements, silently observing the rhythmic bobbing of your throat as you took quick shots from your half-full glass. Lightweight, he mused in his mind.

“I’m not a baby.” You retorted back with that fucking cute pouty expression he adored.

Fuck. That’s the look. That goddamn look of yours he was waiting for. Nothing better than some arrogant slut all fucked up, practically begging to be taken on his own fucking couch.

“Yeah, sure. Whatever you say.”

“Whitney?” Shit, the way you’d call his name all whiny too, slipping past your own lips. Had his cock twitch like fucking hell, painfully aching between his spread legs.

“Hm? What is it?”

“Why are you so mean to me all the time?? What did I ever.. What did I ever do to you?? I—I just don’t get it.” You hiccuped pathetically, stumbling over your own words, already half-drunk from the fizzling alcohol in your system.

Ah, so you didn’t seem to get it at all yet, did you?

How cute.

“‘Cuz I wanna fuck your noisy mouth, that’s why.”

“..What?”

Blinking back at him, you didn’t even get the chance to register or mutter out another word before he was upon you. Knees firmly planted to each side, increasingly aware of his encompassing frame that towered overs yours as his clothed crotch faced your drunken expression. If it had been any other time, perhaps the blonde would’ve paused then to greedily drink in the sight before him, but this was Whitney after all and he never liked to waste time on silly notions like foreplay, preferring the rougher options that came along with it.

So, fuck it all, right?

With practiced ease, he hurriedly shucked down the elastic waistband of his grey sweats past his hips, hefty cock confidently springing free from the constricting confines of the cotton fabric as it lightly smacked against the curve of his bare stomach. Fuck, you haven’t had the slightest idea how long he had waited for this. Merely a matter of a few weeks for you, though for him, your older brother was dying to sink his dick in that whorish mouth of yours. Looked like you’ve never taken a real cock either, snugly shoved down to the hilt of your inexperienced throat that he’d train till it became a sixth sense to you, gratefully swallowing down his salty cum.

Calloused fingertips tenderly dragged along the swollen flesh of your bottom lip, bloodied cut reopening from the time the bully had split your face open on his fists for the whole school to see in the busied courtyard on a particularly rainy day. Licked his knuckles clean too after that rough beating you took, savouring the heady taste of the crimson mess you left behind, groaning all the while. Had him stupidly hard for the rest of the day, itching to relieve some tension once he got back home. Great times, really.

Now would’ve been the time then, probably— to sputter out your firm opposition over this, resist somewhat. Maybe kick the motherfucker in the balls, satisfyingly watch him writhe on the floor in agony before scrambling up the ancient staircase to hysterically yell about how you nearly got raped by your aforementioned step-brother, to your dozing mother. Christ, that would’ve been the sane decision to do then yet, the bubbling drinks coursing through your veins had thoroughly taken its effect on you, blood rushing down lower to the wrong region, the sinking realization nearly making you bolt upright.

Fucking fuck— you were hard.

And Whitney hadn’t failed to notice.

“Shit, are you getting hard from this?” The delinquent snickered hoarsely to himself, making a show to lightly tap at the growing bulge underneath your own jeans, all too visible despite the rough fabric that covered it. “Should’ve known you’d be into it. Your body speaks for itself, y’know. You want this, you cock whore craving slut.”

No, no. This was all wrong. Must’ve been. You liked girls, didn’t you? Squishy cunts and fat tits you could easily slip your cock into — god. Didn’t like guys and if you did, your step-brother who treated you like nothing but shit would’ve been last on the fucking list.

But you secretly do like being used this way, don’t you? Baby brother.

“I’m n-not fucking—“ Attempting to deny the harsh statement, you cut yourself off from the sudden intruding tip eagerly pressed against your lips, flushed cock head leaking thickly and smearing sticky pre-cum all over.

It wasn’t an order nor anything else that hung heavily in the air, a simple gesture, a subtle thrust of his hips that had his actions speak louder than any words would’ve been capable of. Either you do it or not, the delinquent couldn’t have cared less regardless, always used to getting what he wants and by god, if he wasn’t going to fucking get this. Because the signals alarmingly ringing through your head felt faint in the face of this, shakily inhaling the musky scent of your big brother’s throbbing cock subtly twitching in response to your feathered breaths against it, dribbling out more translucent pre-cum that melded with the scarlet stain of your bloodied lips.

Out of your damn mind — That’s what you were. To even properly consider the implication at hand here. Yet your lips won’t stop from parting, from sticking your pink tongue out, clumsily imitating the gestures those submissive girls in the cheap porns you’d watch underneath your thin covers late at night, shamefully enough. Always thought you’d be on the receiving end of that one day, dutifully patting at the soft hair slotted between your thighs however here you were, shyly pawing at Whitney’s naked hips instead to steady yourself.

All your fault, all your damn fault so shut up and take it, alright? Shouldn’t had led him on like that, now you’re only reaping what you sow, slut.

Felt more like he was plainly fucking your mouth than you were sucking him off, sharp, punishing thrusts meeting your open mouthed lips to drive himself deeper in that warm throat that reflexively tightened around his length whenever he hit a particularly sensitive spot — drawing another string of adorable, strangled whimpers from you. “Shit, you sure this your first time? You’ve got the mouth of a — hah, fuckin’ filthy glory hole.” Heat prickling up the nape of your neck at the direct statement uttered, the brief realization of your inexperience being taken away like this, from a blowjob. On the giving end. A first, that will mostly likely not be the only first after this, not when you’re unconsciously getting off to the thought for more in store despite your haze filled brain begging you to reason. Ah, fuck. He’s gone and got you stupidly cock drunk now, didn’t he? The bastard. Slurred mutterings tumbling out above you, almost hasty in how he handles you, wanting to truly savor this never-ending moment when his body can’t stop on its own, too eager to be fulfilled of this yearning pleasure he sought out from you firstly. Thankful for your lack of gag reflex that somehow has you forcefully endure the ruthless slam of his hips, struggling grip straining onto his thighs for leisure, promising to leave a fresh set of bruising marks on the tanned flesh.

A delighted sigh softly escaped from the blonde as you finally gave his dick some much needed attention, experimentally running the flat of your tongue along his leaking slit, coaxing out more dribbling fat globs of pre-cum before slowly and carefully taking his full girth in the warm depths of your tight, wet mouth. “Ah— Fuck. Yeah, that’s good.” No way can he hide the barely restrained, high-pitched, almost needy whimper that threatens to slither past him as you so prettily suck him down to the base, slobbering all over his throbbing balls that has him huffing out a cursed moan of satisfaction, eyes rolling back. “F-Fuckin’— god.” Can’t help the sheer guttural groan that slips out from how tightly his baby brother’s virgin lips sweetly glide around him, the uncertainty in your movements making it all the more endearing as you struggle to take him all in, saliva dripping over your chin to land in varying wet dots on the cushioned pillows. Looking so damn pretty like this with a mouthful of cock, your big brother’s pulsing cock specifically. So don’t blame him then when his hips automatically snap back, slender fingers instinctively reaching for the back of your head to entangle themselves through the soft strands of your hair, ruffling it.

It’ll be more than that though, the sick realization dawning upon him of this opportunity handed to him on a silver plater, free of his taking, of course. Not some other replaceable slut he can find anywhere else by chance, but one forcefully bound to him whether they like it or not since what can you possibly do? Come running with tears in your eyes to your mommy about what your big, mean, older brother did to you? His father will certainly not be one to help you for that matter, that’s for damn sure. Who the hell will believe you then? No one. Fucking nobody. Inadvertently handing him free range to do whatever he so pleases with you, whenever, where the fuck ever. Oh, but it won’t only stop there, y’know. Ruining you fully for the sake of his own selfish pleasure, corrupt that naive view of yours that has you blush bashfully at a bunch of lewd illustrations plastered onto the printed pages. Soon enough, the majority of your days will be lazily spent in his room, leaking cock dribbling profusely from the kitten licks you’ll so cutely give him then while he absentmindedly scrolls on his phone, grinning proudly as you inevitably beg for more of him. And shit, Whitney isn’t one to disappoint either — he’ll have you rightfully rewarded for such behaviour, in public to be exact. Clip a nice, leathered collar around your neck along with a leash too, tug at it a bit to show off his newfound pet, his loyal little brother that sloppily sucks him off and happily sinks onto his hefty cock at a mere snap of his fingers. Drives him fuckin’ crazy merely thinking about it.

That’s right, suck on your big brother’s fat cock to selfishly earn his twisted love, his blind adoration and protection of your being. His pet. His slut. His beloved baby brother. His now blood, flesh and soul tainted throughly by him himself. Personally service him on your knees like the whore that he knows you are. Fucking get on your knees and earn it.

All too soon, despite wanting to stretch this further solely to ingrain the addictive noises of your stifled whimpers and drooling mouth inside his perverted mind, visibly struggling to take him all in as he shamelessly used your throat like some sort of flesh light stretched to the hilt — He can feel himself reach the brink of his limit, confident hips stuttering in their steady thrusts to greedily bury the tip of his quivering cock into the back of your throat one last time. “F-Fuck. Stay like that — just fucking stay like that.” He hissed sharply between strained curses, head thrown back like some cheap virgin whore who’s just received his first ever mind blowing blow job. The familiar overwhelming heat curling in the curve of his belly, like a coiling string on the verge of popping. Balls tightening in need, pulsing spurts of his fat load squirting out of the head of his cock to messily splatter across the surface of your pretty fucking face, ruining you for his own amusement.

Should’ve busted his load down your throat just to hungrily watch you swallow it down, though he supposes that the cum stained look adorning your pretty face is a sight to behold on its own, taking a good minute to appreciate the mess before him.

A blank, pristine canvas that he had helped ruin and stain with the filth of his very own actions.

It suits you, really.

“That’s a — hah, good boy.” Whitney heaved roughly between ragged breaths, the uncharacteristically gentle praise laced in his tone differing from his usually sadistic nature. If it weren’t for the sticky mess that obscured your vision along with the heat of his sweating palm placed flat across your forehead, you’d notice the strange fond, warmth that had settled into his softening gaze, a sort of reverence in of itself. “My good fucking boy.”

“So good for big brother, aren’t you?” He smirks knowingly at your hitched gasps of breaths, struggling so stupidly to form back a snarky insult as per usual.

Ah, he gets it now — really fucking gets it, glazed over eyes settling onto your evidently hard, twitching cock still tented pitifully against the front of your jeans, frantically humping at the air like some sort of rabid, horny, untrained puppy in heat, tongue lolling out. Aw, so fuckin’ cute when you’re cock drunk and needy for big brother. Makes him wanna do it all over again.

For that, he should be properly training you then.

“Whitney— fuckin’ cmon, please.” Whining so pathetically in a way that sends a jolt straight down through his spent cock, immediately standing up to attention once more. You’re really asking for it, fuck.

So damn cute, but so impatient too. Maybe he should fuck your virgin ass next, stuff it full of his cum and see what happens to that bratty mouth of yours then. Shut you up a bit.

“Yeah, yeah. I got it. Just— keep still for me.”

Well, can’t be having his little new pet go frustratingly neglected like that, can he?

—

Kylar, your precious little sister, all too eager to be the first, but the second to sink her mark into you. Convince you a bit more.

Needy as she was, she wasn’t as bad as the rest that inhabited this sick place you reluctantly called home, a flicker of warmth among the distant coldness that resided in this house. Much unlike her brother, the dark haired girl didn’t seem to dislike you in the slightest, often shooting you the smallest of smiles whenever you two briefly locked eyes at the dinner table or in the shared hallways by mere coincidence.

‘Course, she did have her questionable moments whenever you caught her rifling through your drawers, namely the ones where your underwear lay neatly folded in the cubicle space. Promptly muttering out an unbelievable excuse as to why she needed your boxers before bolting past your stunned self, red in the face. Or that time she had decided to curl up onto your bed, lovingly burying her nose into the warm sheets that you slept in, relishing in that sweet scent of yours she’d catch a whiff of as you drew closer next to her at the table.

..Yeah, she certainly had unresolved issues, but it beat the constant poking fun at that Whitney would do. The rough shoving into the metallic lockers that’d clank heavily from your weight, the shared snickering that came along with it and the forced blow jobs that you had somehow eased into over time despite yourself. Fuck, why were you even thinking of that asshole?

Freak or not, she didn’t harbour any of the senseless cruelty this town had to selflessly offer and that was good enough. Enough so that you had found yourself increasingly spending more and more of your time with Kylar whenever you weren’t forcibly dragged along to some shoddy place your big brother roped you into, leaving the loner to her own whims for the day.

So it was no surprise then when the two of you grew closer, a little more than you had expected so to be the one sat onto her worn out bed, her hideaway — she’d call it, a moment of respite from the constant teasing she had to go through from her older brother. A means of escape, perhaps? And for you, it was no different either, all the same. Gladly listening to her overexcited rambling about this and that, about the fine mangas she had newly bought at the local, dusty library, the half priced anime figurines she had found on display beyond the glassy windows that separated them — matching pearly bracelets made of shiny gems and rocks carefully picked at the park she’d sow together to gleefully tuck around your wrist, whining sorrowfully at her own being too loose for her delicate wrists. Cute. Your little sister was real fucking cute, more so than you’d like to admit at times.

So much so you couldn’t ignore the growing knots in the pit of your stomach whenever your knees fortuitously bumped against each other, a sign — a silent, repetitive warning of your shared proximity that was crossing past the treacherous line of two mere siblings. Yeah. Okay. So you found her cute, so what? Big fucking deal. Plenty of guys found a girl cute, didn’t mean jack shit, didn’t mean they wanted to fuck her till she clenched pathetically around them, sniffling miserably at being fucked brutally by their kind, soft-spoken big brother they naively put their trust into. Right, that’s what you were. Nothing more. A responsible big brother she could certainly put her faith into since her other piece of shit brother couldn’t bother with that shitty role, something you’d curse him for on the daily. One she could seek out at a moment’s notice, spend time with to her heart’s content like a normal, unsuspecting relationship between siblings should be.

Not some perverted creep of a big brother who’d steal periodic glances her way, instinctively trailing down to the soft, plump and pink flesh of her parted lips, glistening sinfully from the wetness of her saliva — a habit she unconsciously did despite claiming not to. Gulping thickly, you hadn’t registered how her seamless chatter had ceased to a stop, deafening silence befalling upon the both of you as you stared at each other like some sort of stiff actors awaiting for the next act on stage. Wait, were you staring? Fuck, you were — and she hadn’t failed to notice by the looks of it, blooming flush adorning her pretty, pale cheeks you’d like to press gentle, reassuring kisses to, squeeze under the weight of your palm. Maybe have her spill a few stray droplets of tears across the rosy surface while you’re at it, make her cry the same way Whitney did.

Oh, you’re such a fucking bastard for this one.

“W-What is it? Do I have something on my face?” Her sudden squeak had you stilling in your tracks, twisting the spread sheets without meaning to from the timid pitch of her shrill voice. Look at her, trying to hide behind her torn sleeves in attempt to draw attention away from her bashful blush, becoming a fidgeting mess under your gaze.

Fuck, no. It was more than that, Kylar. It was the pout of your lips that you wore, the black strands of hair that framed your face so beautifully, the exposed sliver of skin of your thighs from that short skirt you slipped on. It was all you, but dammit all — fuck.

“Hm? No, it’s nothing — really.” Liar. Drawing back to create a manageable amount of space between you both, a reminder not to act upon those disgusting urges of yours, better not to. Bad idea to be thinking with your dick, no man’s ever made a reliable decision with that one. Even so, Whitney did it with you and — nothing particularly bad happened, did it? Would it be so wrong, if you were to do the same? Selfishly grasp for what you so dangerously desire, drop meaningless hints here and there to care for her wants, such a gentler option than any boy could ever treat your dearest little sister?

Would it?

Too lost in your endless train of thoughts, your eyes falling upon Kylar’s green own that bore with such intensity you hadn’t seen before, almost as if contemplating — no, waiting for something to happen. Though you couldn’t tell what it was, her actions were enough so to speak on their own with how she shifted considerably towards you, used mattress dipping from the creaking weight over the wooden floorboards. Ah, was she..?

“Ky—?”

Before your mind was even fully given the chance to process it, like the leap taken before the shuddering dip of a waterfall, her inexperienced, virgin lips clumsily smashed into yours, knocking the wind out of the both of you from the abrupt step taken by your little sister. Sweet. So sweet. Pink tongue tentatively swiping along the scarlet cut of your bottom lip, ushered gasps accompanied by startled squeaks as she timidly gave you what she thought was a simple kiss, but felt more like a pornographic make out session with how she so desperately shoved her tongue deeper. More. Wants more of this, more of that honeyed taste she yearned to savour, to finally enjoy while her other dumb brother so greedily took you away every time she wished to be the one at your side instead. It wasn’t fair, not fair at all! He’s so mean, so why does he get to string you along whenever he so pleases? Should be her, only be her to fill that solemn space. Only her, only her—

“W-Wait, wait— Kyl— fuck.”

As if struck by the weight of what she had just done, the loner recoiled back instantly in a fit of panic from the sheer brashness of her actions. Oh, how could she let herself so easily fall to such temptations? What if you hated her now? Or worse, were repulsed by the kiss? Wouldn’t be able to live it down then, quivering lips and bubbling tears threatening to spill freely down the length of her flushing cheeks from her overreactive imagination running rampant — because she’d rather die than to have you loathe her so.

“I-I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to— umm.. I thought that maybe you.. wanted me to—“ The girl stuttered uselessly, trailing off in an aimless direction only to shrink back in her unbecoming position. Silence only answered her in return which she took as the harsh reality of rejection, mustering up all the courage she possibly had in her lithe frame to at the very least subtly peek at the current expression painted along your face. Would it be anger? Disgust? Disappointment even? Surely if you hated it that much, you’d have plainly kicked her right off the bed by now, right? Storm out in a fit of shock and never so much as glance her way again.

The sight to greet her instead wasn’t an unwelcome one though — no, far from it actually, her gaze deliberately falling upon the blazing flush of your face down to the evident bulge straining painfully between your legs, palm nervously placed over it in a half-assed attempt to keep your dignity at bay — shit. It’s one thing to be kissed by your younger sister but to get fucking hard from it is like shameful admission on its own, a visceral reaction that could not be denied no matter what reasonable excuses may tumble from your lips. “..It’s fine. I don’t mind, actually.” You’re really no better than Whitney in that aspect, but when an opportunity presents itself, it’s only fair to mindlessly grasp for it, is it not? More worrying is the debauched idea that forms in your mind in regard to the enamoured expression worn by her wobbly lips and wide-eyed look, not-so-subtly rubbing her plush thighs together in a hint of arousal. Oh, so that’s how it is. If the sloppy kiss itself didn’t confirm it then this surely did, a surge of confidence rushing momentarily through your body at your next actions.

“Like I said, it’s fine, Ky.” That fucking nickname again. Unable to stop yourself from dragging your cute little sister closer towards you till she consequently found herself comfortably placed onto your lap, blinking stupidly at the bold move done by her normally gloomy, big brother. Silly girl.

“Siblings do it all the time, it’s not weird. It’s natural.” Lying through your goddamn teeth with a certain ease that even surprises you internally, but oh, is it so worth it as her viridescent eyes glimmer brightly to the whispered reassurance in your casual tone, acceptance easily slipping through. “But Whitney and I don’t—“ She starts, only for you to immediately latch onto her endless questioning with the seed having already been planted, too late to fucking back out now. “You and I are different. I’m nice to you and you’re nice to me, so it’s normal if you want to. We can do that cuz’ everyone else does it, alright? You don’t have to be shy with me about it, Ky.” Every carefully measured word to make it seem as though this was the norm, knowing fully you’d be seen as freaks and degenerates by your peers attending the nearby school. Not that they didn’t already think so with Kylar, the rumors having grown out to such an unhealthy proportion that it pestered the poor girl at every corner in the narrow hallways. Poor thing.

So isn’t it your job as her big brother to make it all go away? Make her feel better.

“Shh, just let me..” Soothing circles rhythmically rubbed in a recognizable pattern along the edges of her skirt, repeated affirmations of want so to ease her chattering mind over the possible morality of this newfound situation. Could’ve said no if she didn’t secretly desire this, though her actions seem to say so otherwise with how she earnestly complies, willingly tucking her arms to her sides to let your hands do the rest. Good girl. So docile, like a porcelain doll, sharpening breaths noticeably deepening from the careful tugs of her short skirt, revealing the confirmation of her depraved wants as the wet patch of slick soaking through her plain, white panties is bared. Your adorable little sister isn’t so innocent as you thought, is she? Contrary to her modest choice of underwear. Getting fucking wet solely from being leered at so openly by her step brother, even going so far as to spread her soft legs for better viewing.

“See? Isn’t it frustrating to be left all worked up like this?” Agreeing nods promptly interrupted by the press of your thumb against her clothed slit, such a sweet, hitched gasp elicited from the lazy circles traced onto her swollen, twitching clit. A free view of your younger sister’s scrunched up expression morphing to one of pure, unadulterated pleasure, scarred fingertips tightly clutching at the fabric of your shirt, but that’s the least of your concerns at the moment, really. “This good?” There’s no real need to ask when you can naturally rely on the shivering of her dainty figure, breathy moans of y-yes and feels good! along with the guiding of her needy fingers, flush against her slicked heat. A flick of your thumb is all it takes to have her turn into a babbling mess, bucking her hips up to meet your cupped palm, incidentally grinding onto your aching hard-on. “S-Shit, okay. Look at you, hah — so fucking wet already.” Barely able to discern the own pitch of your voice, but who the fuck is supposed to properly maintain their composure when your little sister is so prettily begging for your cock?

Effortlessly peeling away at the sticky fabric of her cotton panties, slipping it down the length of her legs to thoughtlessly throw away onto the wooden floor beneath. No time to fucking think, not with how cute her cunt looks, pink and dripping with slick coating the smooth surface of her inner thighs. Ah, and she’s already impatiently fumbling with your belt too, smiling so happily once it loosens to eventually tug your own underwear down too, leaking cock eagerly springing free from its restraints. “Want it that bad, lil sis?” Fuck, does it feel wrong to even be calling her so in your current predicament, yet so damn right too. The pleading nods, urgently clinging to your frame to press against as she grinds her sopping cunt along your flushed tip, whining whenever it knocks just right up against her puffy clit, squelching from the melding fluids. “W-Want it, want it inside, please.”

“B-Big brother—“

As much as you like the high-pitched mumblings of your dearest Kylar, there’s really only so much edging you can take before promptly snapping your hips up in tandem with her own, relishing in the slippery warmth that lovingly welcomes you, stretched folds accommodating to the sheer girth of your length. “Oh, fuck — Fuck, just relax for me. You feel so.. hah, so good.” Collectively sighing in relief at the intrusion of your pulsing cock squeezed so nicely by her constricting walls, having to steel yourself from the tight suck of her cunt snugly wrapped around your tip. “You’re doing so good for me, taking me so well.” Softly hushing her breathy whines intertwined with a mix of pain and pleasure, fingertips digging harshly in the tender flesh of her hips to guide her quivering frame up and down the length of your cock. Isn’t this what she wanted after all? Such a quick learner too, steadily bouncing to match the pace you had set, your wandering hands slipping past the hem of her loose shirt to greedily palm at her perky breasts which prompts another moan to exit her parted lips. Uncaring for the increasingly noticeable squeaking of the worn mattress when your little sis is so cutely riding you, doing her very best to satisfy your immoral urges and have you mark her slicked insides with your seed.

“What a good sister.. So good, aren’t you?” Cute, pink tongue poking out, begging for another messy kiss pressed onto her swollen lips which you dutifully oblige with another muffled groan. Sloppily planting your own against hers, treasuring every shuddered gasp to swallow down and stifling her open mewls. It’s borderline disgusting how desperate you are, savouring every thick inch engulfed by the sloppy suck of her baby sister pussy, reappearing briefly only to bury yourself balls deep once more into her defiled cunt. Isn’t really your fault with how fucking tight she is, is it? Barely grasping the reality of the situation which is the very high possibility of being heard from outside her room right this moment, but fuck — you can’t slow down, not right now, not when you’re already on the verge of spilling your cum deep inside. Damn Whitney, the bastard. Damn to hell your parents, your indecisive mother and her new husband, this is heaven itself right here. “I’m close—“ You huff out in a sort of warning, though it’s more of an invitation to Kylar, an opportunity for you to shoot your thick seed in her wanting hole, practically locking her legs tight around your waist.

Anything for you after all, huh? Her beloved. Her darling. You just didn’t know it yet! And to say it came true on its own, openly enjoying the sensation of your fat cock instinctively fucking into her tight, little sister hole. So close.

“Cum inside me, please. Let’s finish together, big brother. I-I’m close too—“

And that’s all you really need, precise thrusts upwards hastily turning into erratic humps to lazily grind against her ass, wanting nothing more but to see the dumb, drooling, fucked out expression painted across her adorable face, the convulsing of her cunt stuffed full of your length when she does have her first ever orgasm. A few clumsy circles drawn over her used clit is all it takes to have her cumming, slick trickling out of her fluttering cunt to drip over the base of your cock and stain the pristine sheets beneath. “Ah— God, you’re so fucking tight.” Fuck, fuck, fuck — Shoving the hilt of your cock as deep as possible into your little sister’s stretched out hole to rightfully mark her pink insides with your seed, spurting out thick, white strings of cum while you fuck yourself deeper into her womb and downright have her experience her first ever accidental cream pie too. It’s only then when she pitifully whines for you to stop that you do eventually pause, hips drawing back to stare in awe at the dribbling globs of cum spilling out of her sore cunt. “S-Sorry.” You mutter out apologetically with a sigh, the tension easing out of your muscles once she giggles softly in response to your strained apology. “It’s okay. I-I liked it a lot too.”

“Did you?”

“Mhm, I did.” Kylar sleepily mumbles back with drowsy eyelids, the exhaustion washing both over you all at once from, well.. all the movement involved. Let’s leave it at that, actually. Plus you deserve the rest, don’t you? Wouldn’t be fair to leave your adorable sister all alone in her twin bed without her older brother’s body to warm it with too, yeah? It’s fine to lay yourself down next to her curled figure snuggling closely against yours, drape an arm over her waist to remind her of your presence close by, make her feel secure and at ease. A silent, ushered promise to clean her up later once you two awaken, affectionately pressing a single kiss atop her head one last time before sleep takes her first. It’s your role to as the big brother, after all, isn’t it?

“..Good.”