content: incest/twincest. regulus and reader are twins. specific physical descriptors will be used.
a mewl tears from your throat, soft and arousing in your twin brothers ear. your arms are wrapped around regulus’s shoulders, your legs encircling his waist. the identical tone of your skin placed atop his blends perfectly, your nails the only indicator of where you begin and he ends as your vision blurs from tears of pleasure. “reggie, please…”
“mhm,” he replies, voice strained as he nods lightly, his hips moving with passion, slow and deep. “I’m trying.”
“try harder,” you whine, impatiently pulling his hips flush to yours with your legs. “want more…”
regulus huffs but obliges, thrusting a little faster. “y/n,” he grits. you feel his muscles tense above you, his dark curls mingling with yours as they fall into your face, his forehead lined with sweat. he leans down to kiss your pout. “I won’t last.”
you grumble as you kiss back. you start to give in to the pleasure again, squeezing him tightly but continue to complain. “you never last.”
regulus scoffs, thrusting harshly enough to make you gasp. “yes, I do. I just,” he pauses, leaning down to bite your cream colored throat harshly, “haven’t seen you in a while. I forgot how,” he grunts, “tight, you are.”
you meet his gaze, his identical silver eyes boring into yours. you speak, voice taut with jealousy. “hmph. sleeping with that girl again?”
regulus sighs and rolls his eyes, his hand slithering between your bodies to rub quick circles on your swollen clit. your breath hitches and you squirm, your nails digging into the lean muscles of his back. “you know I have to. we’re due to marry, you know.”
you scowl, irritated. “I know that. that doesn’t mean you have to keep ditching me for her.”
regulus looks guilty. “you know I don’t want to,” he kisses your lips despite your unwavering scowl. “she’ll get suspicious.” he smirks as he looks down at you. “she saw your hands on my cock, you jealous thing.”
your pale cheeks turn pink, a small moan leaving your lips as he thrusts into you just right. “so? what does she know? I could’ve been reaching into your pocket.”
he raises a brow, his dark curls sticking to his forehead. “you were groping me.”
you flush darker in embarrassment, pulling him down and nuzzling into his neck. “you’re my brother. my twin. you’re supposed to be mine.”
i want to tear my skin off and drain my blood, it means nothing to me
molecularly structured as a reminder that hands never differ, lines blur and im perpetually trapped in a filthy body with a dying mind that doesn't know the difference between a good and bad touch
imo dick pics are okayyy… i’m not really moved by them..
but bulge pics when ur doing something casual or at work but you still want me to see how heavy ur packing for me is so slutty of you and i’m immediately pregnant looking at you thank you
It's not that I crave you hurting me, I just want you holding a knife to my neck and applying enough pressure to draw 1...2...3 droplets of blood because at that moment my life is no longer in my hands it's in yours and there's something erotic about giving up every ounce of me and asking what you'd do.
When I hand you the blade we teeter on the edge of "will this be my last breath" and when you drag it across my thighs ever so gently it makes me tremble and at that moment I understand why it makes my chest ache, it's never been me seeking the pain it's been me seeking the ability to give someone else the choice between my life or my death, it's always been the yearning for that anxiety that builds only to dissipate as you choose my life and kiss the blood off.
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