thinking about religious reader and stepbrother!sam (with corruption kink) going to catholic school together
18+, smut, Catholic!Reader x Stepbrother!Sam, stepcest, slight dubcon (if you see manipulation as dubcon).
I've been having an awful block so I hope this is good ;)
“Give me my notebook back.”
“No.”
“Give it to me,” You repeat, launching your arm over your head in an attempt to snatch it off Sam’s hand, which is pointless. His soft chuckle infuriates you, to him, everything is just a game. “Sam, I’m being serious. I need to finish my homework.”
“Lemme just borrow it,” He insists, like he has been doing for the past ten minutes. “I’m just gonna copy your Classical Studies homework.”
“No!” After another failed attempt, you give up, defeated arms falling, frown forming. “No one is going to believe you wrote that. You are not that smart.”
This time his chuckle bounces sarcastically around your walls, looks like he isn’t giving up. Sharing a household with him is already bad enough— share school, classes, work is just the cherry on top. Sam can be quite a pain in the ass if he wants to; with little effort to continue his studies, the only reason he agreed to join a religious college was because it was his only option. Join or get kicked. Bothering you is just a plus.
Stubborn, dense and miserable, Sam is quite the fit. Sticking like a sore thumb, he enjoys how you lower your eyes and hide your face behind your binder every time he drives you both home. Is easy to read what's going through your mind, how you wish the world just swallowed you. People talk— the more religious, the more toxic is their venom— something that is part of Sam’s everyday life. Not yours.
You hide under long skirts, friendship bracelets and psalms. The role model that would never be able to break a plate or hurt a bug. The kind of girl you'd see every Sunday; which only makes it more entertaining to taunt you.
“Give me a kiss and I’ll give it to you,” He smirks, leaning down. Your eyes admire his piercings, the dark circles under his eyes— pure sin. The juxtaposition of your disgust and his amusement is enough to pump blood… all the way down.
“Ew,” You squint. “No.”
“Fine. Then show me your tits and I’ll give you the notebook.”
The request alone brings a wave of discomfort down your spine— but surprisingly you find yourself considering it. The thought lasts no longer than a few seconds, barely even acknowledged by your mind. Sam notices. Blue eyes drinking your expressions, how your eyes zone out for a moment, perhaps he hit a soft spot, or perhaps he was truly experiencing God’s blessings.
“Give me a kiss or show me your tits. Either way you'll win,” Threading carefully, there’s a purpose, a chance.
You pout, a habit of yours that indicates frustration. “I’m not going to kiss you.”
“Oh yeah. I forgot you are saving your first kiss for your husband,” Dangling the notebook over your head, Sam leans down. Just keep pushing, he repeats to himself. Just keep pushing. “Look. Showing me your tits isn’t that bad. I’m not going to touch you or anything.”
“It's just as bad!” You argue, biting the inside of your cheek. “If I’m saving myself for marriage, no one should see me.”
Gears working at maximum speed, you ignore how his eyes change focus. “ Now you are wrong, little sis. Your husband is the one who will touch you and enjoy your flesh. I will simply watch,” His words aren't even convincing, far from truthful, close to deceiving. “Just lift your grandma’s dress, I know you wear those fucking briefs underneath. I won’t look anywhere else.”
“How can I know that?”
He is so close. He can almost taste it.
“I swear to God.”
This is the first time you have ever heard Sam say that.
With a regretful tremble, your hands find the hem of your dress, lifting it slowly. Your eyes stay glued to the door, praying that no one walks in. He says it is not that bad— yet it feels like it. Your heart is racing, palms sweating, as if this wasn't supposed to happen.
“Well, if it helps, I think your bastard future husband will be more than happy.”
Not sure if his compliment is a backhanded comment, the second your eyes meet Sams, he lifts them, agreeing to break contact with those round, precious pieces that he thinks are in fact a blessing. A beat goes by. You know you should let go of the fabric now, he got what he wanted, right?
The notebook hits the carpet with a muffled sound just in time for Sam to launch forward. Pushing you down with strong hands on your shoulders, you let out a choked gasp, wondering when did you stop staring at his eyes to now focus on the white ceiling.
His tongue flicks your left nipple teasingly, the sudden jolt of pleasure both terrifying and exhilarating. “I said no touching,” He whispers, the devil’s voice dripping down his lips. Circling your nipple with said lips, you arch your back, surprised by your own response; the soft suckle is enough to drown your loud thoughts. momentarily, at least. “But I didn’t say anything about sucking.”
