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twotimeloli · 5 days ago

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.TOUGH LOVE (part 1?)

By rena | Shyent

-Big brother Scara <3

-Non-con

-incest

-spanking

-degradation

-a tiny bit of fluff sprinkled in

Note: Don't like, don't read.

Scaramouche shoves you against your desk and without allowing you a moment to fight back, forces apart your thighs and presses his crotch against yours. You groan and attempt to kick him off of you, However, he thrusts his hip hard against yours, eliciting a shriek from you.

“What kind of punishment will it be this time, huh–?”

You barely had the chance to finish your sentence when he flips your skirt over your ass, kneading his fingers into the supple flesh.

“Wait, what are you-”

You didn't register your brother's hand pulling back, but what you did immediately recognise was the searing sting on your rear and the sound of his palm smacking against your ass cheek. You yell, fear and contempt present in your glare to which Scaramouche returned with a scornful one of his own, his lips curled into an ugly scowl.

You felt so bare, and you didn't realise how cold the temperature within your room was until he bent you over and flipped over your skirt. Or perhaps, it was the self-consciousness that overcame you at the fact that you could feel the zipper of your brother's shorts pressed up against your underwear. Regardless, it was cold and embarrassing.

It wasn't the exposure. You never minded being naked around your brother regardless of how broken your relationship was with him even after puberty because, at the very least, you were comfortable with being in your own body around him.

However, the sensation of him pressed up against you like this?

You open your mouth to reprimand him, but that's when Scaramouche grabbed you by the roots of your hair and pulled back before slamming your head against the desk, leaving you disoriented. In all honesty, it wasn't even the force of the slam but rather your mind trying to grapple with what he was doing.

It wasn't the slamming of your head that was out of the ordinary for you, no. You'd already come to accept Scaramouche's more violent tendencies as your new normal in the years following him having to take the initiative to take care of you and the growing intensity of your altercations…at least, you think you did.

Regardless, aside from the hitting, this is just…not normal, right? It wasn't normal, no, the way he threw you against the table and bent you over. It wasn't normal, you don't think, the way he situated his hips between your thighs. It wasn't normal, you know, the way he wasn't yelling at you yet. It was gross, wrong, not right. Not right.

Did he…what is my brother going to do to me?

“You think that you can get away with disrespecting me?” Scaramouche growls, pulling your head back up, rolling your neck harshly in his grip.

Scaramouche sounded incredulous as if what you told him was so ludicrous. As if YOU were in the wrong for reacting to his provocations, his jealousy, his possessiveness, his intrusiveness. He continues, leaning in to mutter spitefully into your ear,

“You think that you can insult me, spit in the face of my goodwill and treat me like I'm stupid and useless while you're dressed like a fucking, ungrateful whore and…get away with it?”

He lets go of your hair in a swift motion—your head dropping on the table—before his fingers wrap around your neck. His grip was tight yet forgiving as you were allowed the mercy of being able to breathe through the pressure, however strained. Scaramouche’s tone was scathing, and you imagined his expression to be just as condescending.

“Well, I guess that's my fault, isn't it? I was too nice, wasn't I? I suppose it's your big brother's fault for letting you off the hook for so long, so easily, wasn't it?”

He slaps your rear again.

Scaramouche coos, squeezing the fat of your ass. “Well, I ought to apologise for that, yeah, baby sis? I'll take responsibility and teach you a lesson. You'd love that, wouldn't you? For your brother to punish you for being such a bad girl?”

He permits you to speak, loosening his grip on your neck. When he did, you gasped for air while trying to hold back a sob in an attempt to sound firm when you spoke, denying to yourself that he heard when your voice shook, "What the fuck are you doing, you fucking pervert?"

Perhaps the disgust expressed in your tone and on your face would make him falter. Yet…

He doesn't even dignify you with a sign of defensiveness; he had you just where he wanted you, the need to take offence was lost to him, and that scared you. “That's all you have to say for yourself? Don't want to mend your way out of this?”

“I have nothing to apologise for, you petulant, narcissistic baby.”

“If you say so…y'know, I almost felt bad for punishing you, but it seems to me that you're practically begging for it, aren't you?” He snickers, his eyes narrowing as he gazed down at his crotch pressed down against your pussy. Almost lovingly, he was caressing your cheek with his right hand, pinching you hard, causing you to whine before it left your body.“Well, if that's how you'll have it…but just so you know,”

Scaramouche grabs a thick, pink wooden ruler from your desk's surface and double taps your ass with it, causing you to twitch and stiffen, “From here on out, it's big brother to you, okay?”

“Sick pervert-” He taps harder.

“Okay, my whorish, adorable little sister?”

“...okay," all you had to do was to let him get his guard down, right?

He hums, “That'll work for now,” he taps your ass with the ruler with a bit more pressure, “move for me.”

You try to turn your head to look at him, but he presses down on your neck, effectively holding you in place.

“That's not what I want, puppy. I said move.”

“Move? You're in the way!”

“Move in a way I know you’re familiar with, aside from trying to escape your punishment. I'm sure you've done it with your little guy friends, haven't you? Sway those hips for me, pet—you have 4 seconds.”

Your mind went blank, but before you managed to process his command to at least express your utter disgust at what your brother was demanding of you,

“Four seconds…how many hits do you think you deserve?”

“None-”

He wacks you and you flinch, hard.

“Wrong, try again.”

“...four?”

“We'll add two more for the second offence, okay?”

"But I-"

"Ten."

"…What the fuck, Scara-"

"Like I said, you're practically begging for it, I don't have to remind you of how you should refer to me…stop trying to fight back."

Scaramouche brushes your right cheek with the ruler, once, twice. And without another moment to spare, he swats your ass, and you didn't think that it could get any worse than the ones prior, and yet…your body jerks forward against the desk and you wiggle against him.

"Stop it! Why-" he pulls his arm back and lays another one of the same, unforgiving speed and ache. A whine escapes you and your eyes prick with tears.

"Beg, apologise, whine or cry. Otherwise, I'll interpret your words as a plea for more."

And thus, began his assault. He hits you again and again and again without a moment to recuperate, to recover a bit, to get used to it. No, he wanted it to hurt. Your gasps and groans grew louder and louder each time as he swatted one after the other on your increasingly sensitive ass, and all it did was egg him on.

Left, right, left, right.

"Normally when you cry, I find it annoying, y'know?"

You tried to articulate a response of your own but you couldn't find yourself getting used to the buzzing excruciating throb on your bum, you felt as if each swat was throwing your mind off its balance. Scaramouche's laughter did not cease to piss you off, and fucking terrify you. You always banked on the pity and guilt to palliate his punishment, but this time, why did it seem like he was enjoying it? You weren't counting, but you were sure that this was way past ten.

"But like this…you're fucking adorable. You fight back against me so viciously and talk with such a potty mouth, I thought that my adorable little sister from years ago was lost to me…I didn't realise that all it took was to bend you over."

He sighs blissfully, your legs kicking behind you as you try to push back. He didn't reprimand you, he knew that it was only natural.

"Next time you act up, I'll set up a camera, okay?"

"Wha-eek!"

"Just like that, you sound so fucking cute. I love the way you're shrieking and crying, kicking and wiggling under me like that…it takes me back, thought 'punishments' were more innocent back then."

Your cries and snivelling was music to his ears. Scaramouche watched as your rear got redder, more sore, and bruised under his dominance, at some point, he focused more on the right side as he dug his nails into your left, twisting your ass-cheek for the sake of hearing your choke on your sobs. He'd been so focused on your vocal reactions, that it was only a few moments later did he notice the dampness in your underwear. His eyes widen and he ceases his swatting, his brain buzzing.

You sniffle and open your eyes, was it finally over? The thought was thrown out the window when he grinds more rhythmically, intentionally against your clothed pussy, the ruler caressing your ass with an occasional tap.

Before you knew it, he'd pull your panties aside to expose your throbbing pussy, running his fingers along your clit before hovering over your hole. You didn't think that your face could get any hotter and you've never felt so fucking mortified. This was your own brother touching your pussy. You tried to perish the mere thought of you being aroused by this whole ordeal, but the clenching of your walls around nothing and your wetness made it impossible to ignore. He wouldn't ignore it, you will not forget it.

“...you sick fuck.” He laughs, pressing his thumb against your hole that you knew was getting increasingly wetter by the moment. “I knew that I was fucked up in the head but who woulda thought that you would finish just from a little bit of spanking? You enjoyed it?”

“N-no I-”

“Shh, don't lie to me, feel this?” Scaramouche slips a digit into your hole and curls it, and he didn't think that he could get harder before you tightened around him.

“You're so fucking wet, did you feel how easy it was to slip it in?" he inserted a second finger followed by a third, pumping them into you. "It's like you're begging to be filled up, aren't you? You'd like that? Do you want your big brother's cock inside of that cute little hole of yours?”

“No…please—hic—Scara I-”

“I'd like you to shut up and think about what I told you; it's big brother.”

Scaramouche undoes his pants and pulls down his boxers before tapping his aching cock between your raw, sore cheeks.

“Feel that? Tell me, how does it feel?”

“...Heavy, you're so—hic—heavy and hard and—please don't do it, it's-” wrong.

“What, it's immoral? Don't feign innocence here, your pussy is weeping for my cock, isn't it? I'm not even holding you down anymore, now am I? And we both know you've never missed an opportunity to run away from something you didn't like…you want this," he mocks, rutting against you.

“But it'll hurt…”

“I don't want to hear excuses from a cute little slut like you…I wonder how many guys you allowed to use you like this. Do they know how much of a masochist you are?” He aligns the tip at your entrance. “Did they even know how much you enjoyed being played with and treated roughly like a sex toy?"

A moan rumbles in your chest as he pushes his head into you, making circles.

"Oh! Now would you look at that? Did you feel how easily I slipped into you? How does that feel, little sis? How does your brother's cock feel?"

You moan a muffled apology and he lets it slide, reaching his free hand to pinch your puffy clit. Your hips reflexively jerk back in response in a futile attempt to pull away from his touch, and in response he lets go of his dick, smacking your raw ass.

Don't move, he didn't say.

“Did those inexperienced fuckers even know how to pleasure you? Did you fake your orgasms? Or did you come through just fine when they buried their little dicks into you? Did it hurt, love? Did you like it?”

He groans shamelessly, slowly pushing in his dick, mercifully giving you time to adjust as he admired the way your legs quaked and stiffened as he filled you with his length with ease. In his mind, as his balls met your ass as his glans met your cervix, he thought that the two of you were a perfect fit.

You truly were made for him.

He slaps your raw cheek with his palm and whine, "I didn't hear an answer."

"Wh…what?"

Smack!

"Weren't paying attention, were you?"

“Please…”

Smack! Smack! Smack!

“Please please please,” he mocks. “Do you know how pathetic you sound? Can't you say anything more intelligent than that or is all you know how to do is beg and moan?”

“...B—hic—big brother…”

“Now that's a start, what is it?”

“...please get it over with.”

“Now that sounds better…but I'm sure that there's another way to phrase it, yeah?”

“P-please,” he was about to slap you before he heard you. “Fuck me big brother…please punish me.”

Oh, fuck.

“...now would you look at that," Scaramouche muses. "I didn't know that you can be so…fuck."

He grabs you by the hips and pulls out until only the tip remains and without warning, he slams into you.

“Archons, you're so. Fucking. Wet.” He accentuates each word with a hard thrust before trying to find his rhythm.

“You're loving this…you wanted your brother's cock to be buried into your pussy, right? You wanted me to use you and I know that you wanted me to punish you…that's why you're always provoking me, huh? Always talking to boys and walking home with a new one every week. You wanted to piss me off—haah."

“You were begging for this…I'm sorry, I was dense, wasn't I? I should have–oh, gods–punished you like this sooner. Right, little sis?”

All you could do was mewl and hic, standing on your toes as if you were offering yourself to him. As he rocked you back and forth against your desk, degrading you and fucking up your insides as your needy pussy drooled all over his cock and formed a small puddle on the floor.

He buries his fingers into your hair once more and pulls your head back. Your tears, sweat and saliva streamed down your face, a pool of it where your face lay. Not only were your cries and gasps more coherent, no longer compromised by your face being buried into arms, but you grew whinier, eyes half-lidded as your dribbling tongue lolled past your lips. You were a fucked up, pretty sight for sore eyes and he felt his cock twitch inside of you.

“Now, who does–mmph…oh fuck, haha—this pussy belong to, huh?"

Impatient, he smacks you another three, "Huh, huh, huh?"

You did not know whether or not it was intentional, but the line between pain and pleasure never felt so close and entwined.

“To my big brother! It’s yours!”, you babble.

“What a smart little girl.”

Eventually, Scaramouche abandons the pace he'd set. After all, wasn't this your punishment to begin with? If you came again, he'd get to make fun of you further. If you didn't, then that is for you to settle on your own, no?

“I'm sorry, I'm so sorry I- ah~ fuck please please please, it's so good I'm gonna cum I'm gonna–” your eyes roll back and your hips buckle against him, white-hot pleasure exploding behind your eyes as you came all over his dick.

And that sight was enough to send him over the edge, he pulled your head back to an unnatural and painful degree, and with one last spank and a final thrust, he buried himself down to the hilt, shooting loads of hot cum into your pussy.

You both were a unit of sloppy messes, panting and sticky with sweat and shared essence, rutting against each other and he bent over, gently letting down your head as he rested his chest against your back, his head over your shoulder.

He pants and moans against your forehead as he plants a kiss on your temple, to which you breathily hum. Your eyes were closed, but you had yet to fall asleep, you intended to move to bed if he let you but at the moment, you were just trying to recuperate, your body still twitching and spasming.

He didn't remove himself from inside of you, perhaps it was the orgasm, but Scaramouche felt the need to express his affection for his little sister a bit more differently. He barely removed his lips from your forehead when he tilted his head, his breath tickling you.

"…You know I love you, right?"

You sniffle, your eyes fluttering open, "I do."

"And that I only did this because I care for you and I missed you, right?"

"Yes…"

You both fell silent, and you didn't know how to describe the absence of noise itself, comfortable? Static? His hand wanders down to your sensitive backside caressing it despite your flinching before sliding down to rub slow, gentle circles into your inner thigh.

"Sca…big brother?"

"Yeah?"

"I love you."

He snorts, "I love you too, little sis."

Author's note: Honestly, a teensy tiny weeny bit unsatisfied, but like, I needed to use the bathroom since 5 years ago right now but I sat here and did this for you😣💓

Hope it was okay, I greatly accept praise. If there are any errors, please point them out to me.

I mean it! Critique and advice is very much welcomed into my asks.

I'm also looking over and editing and screaming and dying rn

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