hi ‧₊˚ ☽ ⋅ i'm ruby, 26. welcome to my quiet corner of the internet. this blog is a dddne account — expect the dove to be extremely dead at all times. do not eat.
this blog with explore extremely taboo topics such as dubcon & noncon, incest. please do not interact if these topics make you uncomfortable or trigger you in anyway. i do not condone these things, i simply am interested in writing about them and exploring the dynamics. writing is art, and art heals.
mdni !! please be responsible for your media consumption.
Envy 01. “Why does he/she get your smile when I’m the one who deserves it more?”
♡⸝⸝ pairing | brother!lance tucker x sister!reader
♡⸝⸝ summary | your jealousy over a rival manifests while lance stretches you to your limit
♡⸝⸝ warnings | MDNI 18+ | DDDNE | incest, reader is a gymnast and as such is flexible, slight allusions to smut, lance being a dick, everyone is of age JUST LIKE YOU SHOULD BE IF YOU CONTINUE READING
♡⸝⸝ word count | 482
♡⸝⸝ bunny purrs | we're onto a new sin of the beautiful @theoracleofsin's summer of sin event !! who better to personify envy than lance 'the fucker' tucker??
please note that just because i write about it doesn't mean i condone it. you are responsible for your own media consumption and i've stated the warnings. turn around now if anything here makes you uncomfortable. this is a work of fiction and should be treated as such. hate comments will be met with sarcasm + wit + a strong hammer ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა
"you're going to get permanent frown lines if you don't quit pouting," lance scolded, holding your calf to his chest with one hand, and keeping a firm grip on your opposing thigh before leaning forward. the ridiculous gold cross that always fell on his perfectly muscular chest dangled down, cooling your skin where it landed.
the line between your eyebrows deepened as you released a breath, feeling the ache along your hamstring increase the harder he pressed. "i'm not pouting."
"you're going to need botox next year to fix it at this rate. what's got you so angry, little sis, huh?" he pressed, nose getting closer to yours, that infuriating smirk never faltering, even as you tried to wiggle out of his grasp.
lance briefly pressed your knee to your shoulder, satisfied with the level of flexibility you were still able to exude, and released your leg to the mat.
"i'm not angry," you reiterated, trying to get up so you could start work on your floor routine, but your big brother was both faster and stronger. still flat on your back, lance grabbed your ankles, spreading your legs as wide as your hips would allow - which, thanks to years of honing your body under lance's coaching - was nearly to the floor.
"you think i can't tell when you're all pent up?" a low warning that he wasn't going to let you out of this position until you gave a good enough reason. and with you needing to practice for nationals, you really didn't have time to play these games with him.
"you smiled. at that other girl who wants to get coached by you. and not like a regular smile when you try to fuck some of the moms, a genuine smile." it suddenly felt foolish that you were complaining about this. that you could be so jealous of someone who hadn't even ranked in last competition when you knew lance only coached winners. "i deserve it more, i won gold for fucks sake."
lance's laugh started small, bubbling into something almost condescending as he looked down at you, spread eagle under his strength and at his mercy. "oh you were jealous." the tease washed over you, making you feel much smaller than you already felt with his frame hovering above.
another smooth motion found your ankles resting on his shoulders, and his chest meeting yours. he pressed into you with most of his weight, a welcomed blanket against insecurity. and every time you ended up in this position, feeling the growth of his erection directly on your clothed pussy, heat mingled with revulsion at the desire that bloomed between your bodies.
his forearms braced on either side of your head, caging you in to make a point. "and you're the only one that gets this dick on the regular, i think that should be a bigger accomplishment than some smile."
thank you for participating in the Summer of Sin event!
i am not sure how to explain this into words but Lance Tucker is so brother coded...... like he feels the perfect mix of fucked up, greedy, arrogant asshole who would love to fuck his sister behind closed doors.
another delicious piece! and he is right... getting that dick on the regular means more than just a genuine smile.
♡⸝⸝ pairing | nick fowler x reader
♡⸝⸝ summary | in the aftermath of too many drinks, you show nick fowler what it means to truly beg.
♡⸝⸝ warnings | MDNI 18+ | smut !! | edging, drinking, reader is said to be inexperienced, age gap mention but everyone is of age JUST LIKE YOU SHOULD BE IF YOU CONTINUE READING, slight leg humping, nick has a bush and sometimes has a hard time getting it up, one word in romanian that is translated in brackets
♡⸝⸝ word count | 500
♡⸝⸝ bunny purrs | day three of the beautiful @theoracleofsin's summer of sin event !! please disregard that this is late...i never was a punctual bunny, i do apologize. my first dove is alive fic, i hope you enjoy 𐔌՞ ܸ.ˬ.ܸ՞𐦯
please note that just because i write about it doesn't mean i condone it. you are responsible for your own media consumption and i've stated the warnings. turn around now if anything here makes you uncomfortable. this is a work of fiction and should be treated as such. hate comments will be met with sarcasm + wit + a strong hammer ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა
"fuck."
the curse was mumbled, nick's voice strained from being brought to an edge that you were keeping him suspended above, letting him think over and over that this was going to be the time you showed mercy.
but mercy wasn't currently in your vocabulary. not when a man who routinely folded and bent your body to his will was now yours to command.
starting so simply after far too many alcoholic drinks, when whiskey beget truth and honesty flowed much easier than thin lies. nick fowler, notorious double agent, and a man who so many feared let slip that he never begged. and you, with far too much inebriated confidence for someone so inexperienced, said that you could make him, if he wanted to test the theory.
surprisingly, he had obliged. still tipsy, you settled between his thighs with your head resting on the strong muscle watching in hazy appreciation as arousal took hold. consider this your favourite part of dating an older man. flaccidity took far longer to eradicate, giving you a true performance instead of the main act already being present when you were just arriving.
with the slightest touch of your fingertips, you drifted along the thickening ridge and the blooming veins. met with a strong twitch that had you already biting your lip in hopes of hearing a single syllable word. lost in the hypnotic, steady drip of clear fluid from the tip, smearing along the soft dusting of salt and pepper curls at the base of his stomach, your thigh draped over his. no sense in also prolonging your own pleasure.
you took to circling the sensitive head with your thumb, shuffling up so your tongue could give small playful swipes at the slit that had tremors radiating below you. your hand then enclosed on the velvet length with barely any pressure in a movement so languid it was like your body was moving through water.
your own hips bucked against the straining muscles of his thighs, your own breathy moans wafting across the slick mess on his abdomen. a giggle you couldn't suppress bubbled from your chest at just how quickly you taking your time was his undoing.
another deep hum followed by a string of curses in a language you didn't know, until the briefest of whispers from the man under you was please. halting the torturous strokes your head tipped up to meet his dark gaze.
"and here i thought begging didn't suit you," you murmured, triumphant, as you crawled up his torso until your knees bracketed his hips and his cock nestled neatly between your folds.
knowing he had conceded the challenge, a floodgate opened. garbled pleading in what you suspected were every language he knew. his hands - usually controlled now shook as they gripped onto the plush of your hips. nick lifted your body with ease, flushed red cock easily finding your entrance to slowly lower you down. "suits me when an ispită [temptress] like you bends my will."
Prompt: “Hit me again. I’m just waiting for an excuse.” | WRATH week of my Summer of Sin event
Pairing: Ex-boyfriend's dad mafia boss!Nick Fowler x Female reader
Word Count: 555 words
Tags: age gap (not depicted but it’s there. both are adults); slapping; physical violence; toxic dynamics; reader is depicted to have been physically hurt by her ex-boyfriend; anger & jealousy; heavy sexual tension; nick fowler is in the mafia !!
In a desperate fit of anger, you slam the door in this man’s face the second you see him standing there, impeccably dressed in a dark coat that screams money, a duffel bag in one hand. Nick Fowler, father to the boy (not a man) you decided to date for a few months before you realized that he preferred the company of hookers to your own, catches the door with a firm palm before it can latch, and steps inside your apartment like he owns the place.
“I’m not here to cause trouble,” he says, his voice all too smooth, quietly closing the door behind him. His blue eyes scan your bruised cheek and the split lip which he recognizes immediately as remnants from the fight with his son last night, and a muscle in his jaw tightens. “I came to drop some clothes you left at the house. And… sincerely, to apologize for my son. That’s not how a real man should act toward a woman who has never wronged him. I’m sorry.”
The audacity makes your blood boil. Sorry? You’ve heard stories. You know Nick has put his hands on women, left them worse than you are now. The difference, apparently, lies in the fact that you have never wronged his son, and still ended up with shattered glass on your living room after months of being treated like property.
“You’re sorry? Your son came after me like a rabid dog and you show up with laundry and a half-assed apology?”
Before you can think, your hand flies out and a slap cracks across his cheek, sharp and, quiet honestly, very satisfying. His head barely moves, but the sound echoes in the room.
But when he licks his lips and looks at you again, faint red mark blooming where your palm struck, he looks more intrigued than any other dangerous feeling.
“Hit me again,” he says, stepping closer until you’re backed against the couch. “I’m just waiting for an excuse.”
Your heart stammers. Terrified, is what you should be; after all, this is Nick Fowler, a man who pulls strings that topple empires. He could hurt you, really hurt you. Instead, you feel blinded by rage and so you slap him again, harder this time, and his head snaps slightly to the side. He sets the duffel bag down without breaking eye contact, then braces one large hand on the couch beside your hip, the other coming up to cradle your chin, thumb brushing your bruised lip with surprising gentleness.
“Good girl,” he murmurs, crowding you fully now. “Get it all out, sweetheart, I can take it. Unlike that poor excuse for a son I raised.”
You’re breathing hard, chest brushing his. The apology, the clothes, are bullshit excuses, you realize. He came for you, to see you crack under the tension that had always simmered between you in stolen glances over family dinners.
“You think you can just walk in here and—” Words are cut off when he leans in, lips hovering inches from yours, pink, wet, calling your name like a siren song. Kiss me.
“I think you’ve been wasting time on the wrong Fowler,” he says quietly, and you swear his lips brush your top one for a millisecond when he says his last name. “Maybe it’s time you stop.”
Would you ever write Dad Sebastian Stan CHARACTER X Son?
If you don't do X Male, my apologies!
You're an AWESOOOOOME writer BTW!
hello, my dear 😊 thank you for sending this ask!
i have actually never tried my hand at writing x male fanfiction, but i would be totally open to trying :3 so feel free to send any requests you have my way and i will sure try my best. any sebastian stan characters are fine 💕
and thank you so much for the compliment, i am so glad you like my writing :3
Prompt: “You wanted a monster, so stop screaming now that I finally became one.” | WRATH week of my Summer of Sin event
Pairing: Dad!Lee Bodecker x Daughter!reader
Word Count: 526 words
Tags: DDDNE (dead dove, do not eat); incest; graphic violence (not towards reader); rough sex; p in v; unprotected sex; breath play/choking; emotional manipulation; corruption kink; violence as a love language; lee is one possessive & jealous bastard; one use of baby girl and one use of sugar bun as petnames; reader calls Lee "daddy"
Author's note: i know i am so late with these fics. truly, deeply, sorry for making you all wait. also decided to change the coloring of my moodboard halfway through, but really who CARES, the oracle can do what it pleases. thank you all for sticking around. :)
Cowering against the wall of the old shed behind the farmhouse, rough wood bites into your back as your father looms over you. Sheriff Bodecker’s uniform is smeared with dirt and flesh blood, badge glinting faintly in the lantern light. Knuckles split raw, with half dried blood, from the beating he had just unleashed upon the man who dared look at you too long in town, come up to brush your arm.
“Daddy, please—” your voice cracks into a sob as you glance at the crumpled body in the corner, no longer conscious.
Lee’s large hand grabs your chin, forcing your eyes back to his, maybe an attempt to force you to face his stormy blue eyes, or maybe to protect you from the bloody sight on the floor.
“Ya’ wanted a monster, so stop screamin’ now that I finally became one,” he drawls.
Tears spill down your cheeks. For years you craved him in all of his corruption, while he kept you tucked away, not letting any boy your age touch you, never letting you stay out of the house for any longer than necessary for school or church. It wasn’t unholy, at first, only an overprotective father keeping you safe from the evils that lurked outside the walls of your home. Much later, when you were already an adult, late nights when your mama was gone became different, with rough hands pushing up your nightgown, whiskey breath hot against your neck as he whispered how you were his good girl, his only girl. That’s when you had begged for more while letting him ruin you, because the sick pleasure of being wanted by him in the same measure that you wanted him drowned out everything else.
“I did it for you. Sorry son of a bitch thought he could have what’s mine. My daughter, my fuckin’ everything,” he growls, pressing his body flush against yours, one bloodied hand yanking your skirt up while the other pins your wrists above your head.
A whimper makes its way past your lips as his fingers shove between your thighs, demanding, just like every time he’s taken you since you were too naive to know better. But your body betrays you anyway, slick and aching for the man who made you.
“Daddy, I didn’t mean for any of this—”
“Shut your mouth, baby girl,” Lee hisses as he frees himself and thrusts into you in one hard stroke, pining you harder against the shed wall. “You wanted a dad who killed for ya’. A man who’d burn this whole damn county down to keep ya’ in his bed. Don’t go actin’ scared now.”
Every thrust rocks you against the wooden wall as he fucks you with raw need, fingers digging into your plush muscles to keep you close, before one hand comes up and lazily wraps around your throat, squeezing just hard enough to make spots dance in your vision while he buries himself deep.
“Say you're mine, sugar bun,” he rasps into your ear. “Say you're daddy's girl, and no one else's.”
“I'm yours, Daddy,” you choke out, the words drowned between broken sobs and moans.
Prompt: “I would burn down this entire world just to feel, for a single second, what it’s like to be preferred.” | ENVY week of my Summer of Sin event
Pairing: Bestfriend!TJ Hammond x Bestfriend!female reader
Word Count: 557 words
Tags: DDDNE (dead dove, do not eat); depictions of self-harm; suicidal ideation; drug addiction & substance abuse; codependent relationship; unrequited love (yk, TJ is gay......); hurt/no comfort; reader & TJ are childhood friends; unhealthy coping mechanisms; mutual toxicity; reader is kind of an enabler
Author's note: please, PLEASE pay special mind to the tags in this fic. there is heavy mention of different triggering subjects. do not read if any of the tags make you uncomfortable. this is always true for all of the fics i write, but specially for this one. entire fic is under a read more for this reason. please take care of yourself <3
Sitting in the uncomfortable bedside chair with your nails digging bloody crescents into your palms, you watch the monitor beep steadily. TJ looks the way you imagine death to look like; pale skin, dark circles blooming under his eyes. Nurses had to pump his stomach again earlier today.
Third time this year.
When his eyes stir open they look glassy, still under heavy influence of the drugs leaving his system. “Hey. You came.”
You’ve known TJ since you were both seven. Back then, you shared secrets and scraped knees; now you share this, his deliberate self-destruction and your obsessive love for a man who will never want you back that way.
“Don’t be stupid. I’m always going to come,” you whisper. You’ve cancelled two jobs, ignored your family, and lied to mostly everyone just so you can be here every single time, watching the boy you’ve been in love with since you were children destroy himself.
TJ laughs a wet, ugly sound. “Mom stayed for ten minutes. Told me she had to leave for some campaign bullshit. I mean, I get it, I do, the job’s important. It was always important.”
Your chest burns. There are remnants of you crying in the hallway that leads to his hospital room for the last hour, sleeves pulled low to hide the fresh cuts on your wrists, parallel lines you made last night while thinking about him letting some stranger fuck him in a club bathroom again, hours before you learned about him relapsing again. Time and time again, cruel feelings overpower you. Being the girl who would die for him, always put to the side while exciting men leave him bruised beyond repair, you just sit there, letting jealousy coil in your gut like venom. TJ’s glassy eyes find yours again, and he notices how you’re slightly hunched over, the tremor in your hands.
“Come here,” he murmurs, and you obey instantly, dragging the chair until your knees press against the bed frame. One of his hands reach out, brush your wrist, pushing up your sleeve before you can stop him, but he doesn’t say anything about what he finds. “I’m sorry that I can’t always be there for you,” is all he says.
“I’d burn down the entire world just to feel for a second what it’s like to be preferred by you,” you tell him quietly.
Despite the tears pricking at the corners of your eyes, TJ still smiles at you, somehow.
“You keep coming back when I’m like this. You know I have no one else but you. I need you here. You like it when I need, you, don’t you?”
Tears spill freely down your cheeks. You do like it when he needs you. You’ve started keeping pills in your bag just in case he needs them, you’ve thought about taking them yourself so he’d finally look at you the way he looks at the people who enable his addiction. “I hate you for it. I love you so much it makes me want to die, TJ. Just… choose me once. Need me. Even if it’s only because you’re too weak to be alone.”
TJ pulls you closer by your arm, presses his lips weakly to your forehead before he lets you rest your head on his chest. “I’ll always need you, sweetcheeks. Stay here with me.”
𓂃 𓈒𓏸 wrath i
pairing: lee bodecker x f!reader
prompt: “You wanted a monster, so stop screaming now that I finally became one.”
warnings: 18+ MDNI, smut, outdoor sex, non/dubcon, prone, dom!lee . . .
word count: 649
a/n: im back to my roots, i miss my husband so much man :") usually i like to write him all lovey dovey bc im self indulgent and adore him but i tried going mean here (though in my mind hes doing this shit becauussseee he loves you) lol
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You've always wondered how far the forest goes. How the trees envelop the horizon, how they wind together, forming blankets over the sky and ripple beneath soil. Only now, you realise, the roots tangle at your ankles like shackles, like hands of the damned pulling you beneath the surface.
You laid prone, unable to move with the sheriff's body knelt over your thighs. Knees bracketing, sunken in the soil, one big, rough hand roaming up and down the expanse of your back, as the other held your face to the floor, cheek pressed to the damp leaves.
He pressed inside of you without alarm. That sharp smile of teeth, nicotine stained with coffee still plastered to his tongue, watching as he entered with a few heavy taps of his cock on your ass, letting your tight walls clamp around him, holding still, groaning at every squeeze you give at the intrusion, at the warmth he gives while you laid, thighs already shaking, debauched in the dead of night.
"I-I didn't…" you choked, swallowing thickly, trying to gather the words on your tongue while soil stuck to the corner of your mouth. "Lee, please, I didn't mean to!"
A chuckle ruptured from above, making his shirt clad belly, jiggle atop your ass. "Oh no, sweetheart. But you did," he cooed all too casually, entertained by your restless squirming. "Now, I gave you instructions, remember? Even made you repeat 'em to me."
The reminder he teases makes your eyes squeeze shut, mouth sweet and sour with the recollection, the ghost of his 'atta girl' in your ears, and his orders to the inside of your cheeks. But the words don't form. Can't, even. With the heavy weight of his body into your own, holding down, inside and out, everything feels so perfectly fuzzy.
"Didn't I?" Lee pushes, voice louder, tugging at the tufts at the back of your neck, making you squeal.
"Mhm, fu— yes, yes." You groan. The sharp sting of the pull shooting down your back, pulsing around his cock.
"An' you remember what I said," he sneered. "About the repercussions?"
You didn't.
"Yes… Yes, sir."
Another yank back, and a yelp tears past your lips. Jaw slack despite your intention to grit your teeth a bear, just like he'd taught you — too bad you were never a good student.
Your vocal chords rang, echoing amongst the crowd of trees that enveloped you both, voyeurs to this ritual, shielding you both from the outside world, and it nearly covered his own shout. Hot and accusative on your shoulder. Not a bite, but harder. Bigger. A gash that dripped blood like a waterfall of wine.
"Liar!" His voice breaks at the edges, like it hurt to point and frame. But it's as his fist gripped tighter, tugging at the follicles you could almost hear the stretch of each strand, your body shook. Arousal, likely. But he noticed the tears streaking down your cheeks, all messy and dappled in dirt and leaves. His pristine, sweet angel, all sullied and debased underneath him for all of the trees to see.
Lee laughs, a wheeze that sticks to your skin. "You see what you make me? You see what your little dumbass makes me do? You realise I can do worse, you know that?" He leaves space for you to speak, or groan, or perhaps clench around him. "Of course you do, I know you — I fuckin' know what you're like. Runnin' into the woods, makin' me lose my fucking mind…"
Leaning down, you can just about feel the graze of his teeth on your neck. "You got what you wanted, darlin', got my fuckin attention. All to get my cock wet," he sniffles carelessly, pushing you back into the ground without ceremony and eased back. "Wanna hear you scream for help, see if anyone hears… Seems like a nice spot, huh, baby?"
Thank you for participating in the Summer of Sin event! Sheriff Lee is a perfect addition to this event, he feels like sin incarnate every time... and of course he was oh so mean to reader, but it seems to me like she doesn't fully mind.
AN: Envy 01, for @theoracleofsin event Summer of Sin: “Why does he get your smile when I’m the one who deserves it more?”
AN2: Divider courtesy of @saradika-graphics
🚨WARNING🚨DDDNE (Dead Dove Do Not Eat) The following work deals with stepcest. The author also trusts that you know your own triggers before you proceed. PLEASE READ RESPONSIBLY.
🚩Content Warning🚩 language, implied sexual relations between family members (stepbrother/stepsister) when teenagers **NOTE: not depicted! Bucky & reader are legal consenting adults in this story.
If the above makes you uncomfortable in any way, please do not continue. Your mental health should always be a priority.
The string quartet hums through the beach reception, fairy lights twinkling like secrets in the summer dusk. You’re thirty-two now, wearing a deep emerald dress that hugs your breasts and the sway of your hips. Your date, Mark, drones on about quarterly reports beside you, his hand limp on your lower back like a polite afterthought. You’d only brought him for the plus-one. He’s safe. Boring. Nothing like the storm you’ve been avoiding for fifteen years.
Then you feel it… him. Bucky Barnes, your stepbrother. He’s two years older than you and leaning against a marble pillar in a tailored black suit that stretches across his broad shoulders and thick thighs. The same powerful body that once pinned you down in your childhood bedroom while your parents were out. Teenagers sneaking touches that turned filthy and desperate, his mouth on your neck, your hand reaching for his fly, promises whispered like sins. You hadn’t seen him since the blow-up that split the family. He looks older, sharper, those steel-blue eyes locked on you like he never let go.
He crosses the room in long strides, ignoring everyone. Mark barely registers before Bucky’s there, voice low and rough like aged whiskey. “Look at you, doll. All grown up and still lighting up every damn room.”
Your pulse hammers. “Bucky. It’s… been a while.”
“Too long.” His gaze drags over your body, possessive and dark, the kind of hunger that never faded. He nods curtly at Mark. “Boyfriend?”
“Just a date,” you mutter. Mark excuses himself for another drink, oblivious.
Bucky steps closer, his hand brushing your waist, thumb pressing just hard enough to remind you. Heat floods your skin. “You brought him here? Smiling at that empty suit like he earned it?” His breath ghosts your ear, sending shivers straight down. “Why do they get your smile when I’m the one who deserves it more?”
The words hit like a claim, dark and raw. Memories crash in— his fingers exploring under the covers, your muffled moans, the way he’d growl mine even back then. You’re adults now, but the pull is the same: twisted, obsessive, forbidden. His grip tightens on your hip, pulling you subtly against him so you feel how hard he still gets for you.
“I never stopped thinking about this,” he murmurs, eyes flicking to your lips. “About us. Tell me you haven’t either, doll. Because I’m done pretending. One word from you, and I’ll steal you right out of this wedding. Mark can even watch for all I care.”
Your breath catches, thighs pressing together as old fire reignites. The past clings like smoke, teenage nights of stolen pleasure, bodies learning each other in the dark. Now it’s darker, hungrier. Bucky’s always been the one who saw every inch of you and wanted more.
The music swells. Your date is nowhere in sight. Bucky’s smile is all teeth and promise. “Dance with me.“
The dance floor is a soft glow of candlelight and swaying couples, but all you feel is Bucky’s hand, large, warm, and way too familiar, settling low on your back, right above the curve of your ass. He pulls you in close, chest to chest, your breasts crushed against him as he leads you effortlessly. Your boring date is a distant blur at the bar.
You tilt your head up, heart racing, and hiss under your breath, “We can’t, Bucky. We’re family. We were dumb kids back then. It was stupid, reckless. A mistake.”
His grip tightens, fingers digging in just enough to make you gasp softly. Those blue eyes darken, a possessive storm brewing as he leans down, lips grazing your ear. “Family?” he chuckles low, the sound vibrating through you like thunder. “That’s rich. Is that what you tell yourself at night, doll? When you’re lying in bed remembering how my mouth felt between your thighs, how you used to beg me not to stop even though we knew it was wrong?”
Heat floods your cheeks and your pulse thunders between your legs.
Bucky’s free hand brushes a strand of your hair behind your ear, thumb tracing your jaw like he’s memorizing you. “Dumb kids? Nah. We were honest. I’ve had plenty of women since, but none of ‘em ever smiled at me like you did. None of ‘em had a pussy that took me the way yours did—greedy and so wet. I can still hear you chanting my name like a prayer, when I made you come.”
The song shifts slower. Bucky’s forehead rests against yours, eyes burning. “Your move, doll. Run… or let me ruin you right.”
Thank you for participating in the Summer of Sin event!
Another delightful piece, with one of my favorite prompts of his event. Bucky definitely knows the effect he has on reader and how to use it against her... even after all these years, the flame burns all the same. I wonder whether she'll give in or not...... but i think we all know the answer to that.
AN: Pride 01 for @theoracleofsin event Summer of Sin: “You should be grateful I chose you. No one else is worthy of my touch.”
🚨WARNING🚨DDDNE (Dead Dove Do Not Eat) The following work deals with consanguinity (incest). The author does not condone such behavior. The author also trusts that you know your own triggers before you proceed. PLEASE READ RESPONSIBLY.
🚩Content Warning🚩 language, fingering, oral sex (female receiving), dubcon, sexual relations between family members (incest/consanguinity). If the above makes you uncomfortable in any way, please do not continue. Your mental health should always be a priority.
AN: Some lines in the story are direct quotes from We Have Always Lived in the Castle, by Shirley Jackson. Such quotes will be denoted with italics.
The candlelit dining room crackled with unease. Merricat’s sharp eyes darted between you and Charles like a cat tracking prey, her fork stabbing into her plate with unusual force. Constance kept glancing over, her gentle smile faltering into nervous little frowns as she refilled glasses.
Charles’s foot slid up your calf under the table, pressing firmly between your knees. “You look especially ravishing tonight, cousin,” he drawled, gaze locked on the deep cut of your dress and the generous swell of your breasts. “You should be careful; you could cause a man forget his manners.”
Constance’s hand stilled mid-pour. “Charles, really,” she said softly, cheeks pink, but her voice wavered with discomfort. Merricat leaned forward, her face sullen and wary. “He’s been staring at her like that all week. Like she’s dessert.”
You squirmed, heat flooding your face, but Charles only chuckled darkly and reached across to pass the wine. His fingers deliberately brushed the side of your breast, lingering with a teasing squeeze. “Can you blame me? She’s always been my favorite.” His eyes flicked pointedly toward Constance, then back to you with raw hunger. “Some things are simply… worth obsessing over.”
“The Amanita phalloides... holds three different poisons. There is amanitin, which works slowly and is most potent. There is phalloidin, which acts at once, and there is phallin, which dissolves red corpuscles, although it is the least potent. The first symptoms do not appear until seven to twelve hours after eating, in some cases not before twenty-four or even forty hours. The symptoms begin with violent stomach pains, cold sweat, vomiting-,” Merricat spoke to no one in particular.
Constance fussed with her napkin, murmuring, “This isn’t proper dinner talk. Please, let’s just eat,” but her worried glances kept bouncing back to you and Charles.
“I wish Charles would just put food on the fork and put it in his mouth and strangle himself,” Merricat continued.
Charles narrowed his eyes at Merricat. “Is that how one is to speak to family? Constance, Connie, darling, please send Merricat to her room. She is excused.”
“Charles, please, Merricat doesn’t mean that at all,” Constance defended.
Charles swallowed the remainder of wine in his goblet in one gulp. He grabbed a cloth napkin and wiped his mouth before pushing away from the table and standing up. The movement caused the chair to scrape against the floor, making Constance flinch.
Charles called your name, and jutted his head towards the doorway.
“Excuse me,” you murmured.
Charles gripped your elbow and steered you toward the library with a low, “Now.” Heart hammering, you barely had time to breathe before the heavy door clicked shut behind you.
He pinned you against the shelves instantly, breath hot on your neck. “You should be grateful I chose you,” he growled, voice thick with possession. “No one else is worthy of my touch. Not Constance. Not anyone. Only you, my perfect cousin.”
“Charles, they saw— this is wrong,” you protested weakly, but his hands were already everywhere—palming your heavy breasts, pinching your nipples until they ached.
“There'll never be anyone like me. Who's gonna love you? Nobody. Nobody's gonna love you. Is that what you want?”
He shoved your skirt up, fingers plunging deep into your soaked pussy, fucking you with relentless strokes while his thumb circled your clit.
“So fucking wet already,” he taunted, curling just right to make your hips jerk. Merricat’s words and Constance’s nervous glances still burned in your mind as he dropped to his knees, throwing your thigh over his shoulder. His tongue devoured you, lapping greedily, sucking hard on your swollen clit until your legs shook and you were right on the edge.
He rose suddenly, freeing his thick cock. The blunt head nudged insistently against your dripping entrance, hips poised to thrust deep inside.
ruby in: I know I have quite a few SummerofSin fics that I still need to reblog. I was genuinely not expecting that anyone joined me at all in this event, and seeing several people joining and writing has been so, so gratifying. Thank you from the bottom of my heart 🥹 I have a busy weekend ahead but I will do my best to reblog the fics you guys have already posted 🤍❣️
Prompt: “Must be nice to never have to beg for a single scrap of affection.” | ENVY week of my Summer of Sin event
Pairing: Brother!Lance Tucker x Sister!Reader
Word Count: 598 words (yes ignore the fact that it's like almost 3 times the supposed word max., i had a lot of fun with this okay)
Tags: DDDNE (dead dove, do not eat); incest; jealousy; sibling rivarly; degradation kink; mirror sex; dirty talk; breast play (brief); fingering; lance tucker is an asshole (what’s new); some mentions of lance fucking other girls
Author's note: first time writing lance tucker... so please be gentle. i wanted to challenge myself to write as many sebastian stan characters for this event, and it's working just right! it's also inspiring to see that other people also participating in the even are also writing for more characters than just bucky. <3
Glass of the full-length mirror in your childhood bedroom, the one your parents left behind when they moved up north, is slightly fogged from the shower you have just stepped out of, a towel barely clinging to your damp skin. Behind you, your brother Lance has his chest pressed flush against your back, his usual cocky smirk plastered across his face reflecting back at you like he owns the world. Which, lately, it seems like he kind of does.
“Got another sponsorship,” he murmurs against the curve of your neck, lips brushing your skin as he trails open-mouthed kisses downward. His hands slide under the edge of your towel, wandering carefully over your hips, pulling you back against the growing hardness in his sweatpants. “They’re calling it the highest-paying deal in gymnastics right now. Everyone says I’m untouchable. Gold medals, magazine covers, pussy on demand…”
You watch it unfold in the mirror, his messy hair, the sharp line of his jaw as he nips at your exposed collarbone, how his eyes flicker up to meet yours with an arrogant gleam. Lance has always been like this, awfully magnetic and impossible to ignore. Meanwhile, you were the sister who stayed behind, scraping by with coaching gigs at the local gym while he jet-setted across the globe.
“Must be nice,” you whisper, voice sharp, while his fingers dip lower, teasing the sensitive skin of your inner thigh, your body arching into him despite yourself, “to never have to beg for a single scrap of affection. The entire world already loves you.”
Lance pauses, lips still hovering over your pulse point. Then he chuckles and straightens just enough to lock eyes with your reflection, one hand sliding up to cup your breast while the other holds your hip in place.
“Aww, is that jealousy. I hear?” He nips at your earlobe, tugging gently before releasing. “Poor little sister, always watching from the sidelines with big brother gets the glory. It’s gotta suck, huh? Everyone wants a piece of me. Fans, sponsors, that cute blonde interviewer who couldn’t wait to drool on my cock last week. And here you are… still my favorite secret.”
A weak attempt to try and twist way is stopped by the way he holds you tighter, grinding against your ass slow enough to make you even more frustrated. Then the towel slips a little lower, one breast spilling over the fabric, and heat floods your cheeks, turning them a dark shade of red.
“Don’t act like you don’t love it,” he whispers, voice dropping into a mocking drawl that always gets under your skin. “Begging for my attention since we were teens. Sneaking into my room after gym classes, riding my face while I told you you’d never get anyone better than me. Pathetic… but so fucking hot.”
His hand slips between your legs then, fingers stroking with expert precision, drawing a reluctant moan from you. Lips parted, eyes glassy, you have enough consciousness to see yourself in the mirror crumbling under his hold while he grins like the devil himself.
“You get more than scraps, baby. You get all of me,” Lance continues, kissing down your spine as he bends you slightly forward. “My money, these hands that win gold… they’re yours. Even if I make you beg for it.” He pushes two fingers inside you then, curling just right, and you huff because you hate how easily your body yields to him.
“Fuck you, Lance,” you spit, gripping the edge of the mirror. He laughs again, already shoving his sweats down.
when you’re whining and about how deep his cock is and each thrust is practically knocking the wind out of you yet somehow he can find more space to go even deeper plunging so deep inside of you that it really does steal your breath completely
Asking him if he still loves you while he's balls deep in a post-orgasm bliss and he just groans and goes "christ, I bought a ring last week" and that's how you find out he was planning to propose 👍
