wooflixer

woofy 20 she/he/they writing blog

[wooflixerr]

✪ hii this is my sideblog, my name is woofy, im 20, and i like to write. but i never write for 1 fandom OR consistently so this is kinda like a dump blog. u get whaatever i wanna post. also will rb fanfic i like. minors dni ✪ u can request me if u wanna! rn i'm kinda focused on the degrees of lewdity n stardew fandoms so i'm most open to writing for those.

✪ will write for most kinks EXCEPT ddlg/mdlg/daddy/mommy kink , any sort of sexual ageplay + regression, scat, pegging, cuckolding + cheating, anything w/ pregnancy (this includes most instances of breeding kinks), + anything else that might make me uncomfortable

✪ i like to write for dubcon/noncon, yandere characters, dollification, predator/prey, humiliation, kidnapping, manipulation, dumbification, coersion, bondage, sibling/stepsibling incest, mind control, mind break, sadomasochism, animalgirl!reader + power imbalance

this is mostly temp i will work on aesthetics later.. am lazy

[neetily]

Cestember Day 4 (Ropes) — Kylar DoL

— ✧ pairing: M!Kylar / F!Reader — ✧ genre: smut 18+ — ✧ word count: 6,038 — ✧ warnings: incest, little brother / big sister, noncon, ropes, bondage, brief suicidal ideation, titjob, creampie, pregnancy mention, yandere, dacryphilia, cervix fucking — ✧ synopsis: He’s been staring for approximately four hours and twenty three minutes… Give or take a few as he was getting set up in position, sitting right on the edge of an old, almost broken wooden chair. — ✧ cestember masterlist

— ✧ A/N: Kylar is such a little freak, I truly think that incest would be something he's unironically into, out of everyone on the masterlist. I wanna kick him into the sun I love to hate him.

He’s been staring for approximately four hours and twenty three minutes… Give or take a few as he was getting set up in position, sitting right on the edge of an old, almost broken wooden chair. The one he’s used—and seen you use once or twice—when contemplating life itself, picked specifically for the occasion as a sense of comfort in these trying times. Anxiety still resides in his leg, bouncing up and down with copious amounts of nervous energy from the moment he sat down on the rotten stool, and his heart is no better. Racing, beating so hard that he’s convinced he must be experiencing a heart attack or something…

Or maybe this is just what love is supposed to feel like?

You’ve always been so pretty to him… All the time, every day, no matter the circumstances. Like when you’re getting dressed for school, sorting out the torn and tattered uniform you can’t afford to upgrade, bullied into further poverty as a result of simply being his sister. But he likes it. He loves you. Thinks you’re so pretty in your uniform like that. And you’re pretty when you get home late at night, exhausted from the various twists and turns life in town throws at you, the various wandering, dirty hands he witnesses touching you from two steps behind. Battered with bruises that the warm bath water you slide into every night does very little to clean you off, and even now, he can spot the odd purple and yellow adorning your arms, a few on your legs too. It doesn’t matter what you do, does it? Still the marks remain, prompting him to frown as you start to stretch and wake. Slowly, sweetly.

The only remedy for removal is replacement, right? Then you’ll be even prettier, he thinks.

But you’re such a good girl, the best big sister he could ever hope for! Trying so hard to make it good in this shit town, for better or for worse, and he knows you better than anyone else—enough to know that you wont accept his treatment without kicking and screaming along the way. Because it’s in your blood, it’s daily life at this point, isn’t it? To bite before barking, it’s better to be alone and safe than anything else more threatening—he understands you intimately. More than you’ve yet to know, really. And he’s just so eager to show you otherwise, to prove himself to you because he loves you, he loves you, he loves you so much that he can’t hide the stupid smirk that’s currently tugging on his lips as your eyelashes flutter awake, and the giddy excitement residing in his chest makes his throat feel tight, closing at the mere sight of you alone.

You won’t find love like this anywhere else, he thinks to himself. Not a fucking chance, in this shit-hole town? You’d have better luck finding a ghost, or a spirit… So you should feel thankful that he’s even giving you a fucking chance to receive his affections tonight.

And besides, you’ve looked after him all these years, so it’s about time he repays the favour, right?

Curiously, he watches you. Doesn’t dare move, lest he triggers your fight or flight response, and you put up more of a fight quicker than he expects. No, instead, he bides his time. Stays as quiet as he possible can despite the overwhelming urge to giggle at the way you struggle to stretch, prompting your brows to furrow cutely in obvious confusion as to why you can’t achieve the perfect morning stretch you’d like.

You can thank him for that.

It’s rather early, somewhere around 2am, though you needn’t worry about school anymore. At least not for today, if anyone but him even notices your disappearance, that is. As such, time might as well not exist to you right now as far as he’s concerned. It’s your morning, your time to rise and shine from the sleeping pills he’d slipped into your supper when you disappeared to the bathroom for a second or two earlier. Silly girl, see, this is why you should be thankful that it’s him that loves you this much, and not anyone else! No wonder you come home all battered and bruised every day, limping into bed like nobody loves you… Just to do it all again the next day—what a sad little life! Thank God you have such a loving little brother to perk you right back up, right? To show you exactly, intimately, desperately, just how much he loves and adores you. And why, out of everyone, you should be picking him, and not some useless lowlife who’d merely use and abuse you, without understanding how to properly love you.

Sprawled out on his bed, unable to move more than a few inches of your frame thanks to his handiwork, he tilts his head at the way your eyes start to widen. Blinking rapidly to no doubt grow accustomed to the dark light of his room, illuminated only by a single lamp atop the bedside table, and his computer screen that flickers with various apps and programs on two screens.

He thinks—no, quickly decides that he knows—that you’re prettiest like this.

Bound and gagged, lips stretched around some scrap cloth he has tied around your head, unable to remove the fabric yourself from the way you’re starfished to each of the four bedposts. Right now, when you’re prone and unable to escape, is when he finds you the most pretty.

And his cock immediately agrees too, twitching to life the second your sleepy eyes land on his, his gaze dropping after a second or two to the ruined skirt that’s shifting up your thighs the more you wriggle around.

“Good morning,” He smiles at you, tone just as giddy as his heart demands for you, unable to hide the utter excitement he has coursing through his veins, and to his cock, when realisation slowly creeps up on your face. “Or night, rather,” he swivels his body around to look at the time on his PC, though it’s unnecessary. He’s been checking it often, since he effectively knocked you out. “Happy two-oh-three!” He settles on, chuckling to help ease the awkward tension from his bones when you do little else but blink back at him slowly. Swallowing thickly on some saliva, testing the limits of the rope he has secured around your wrist with gentle, automatic tugs.

That is, until you wake up more. Maybe it’s the rope burn that frightens you? Or maybe, it’s the way he’s smiling at you. His cheeks hurting with the grin he holds, cock pulsing with life in his otherwise tight skinny jeans—they offer some nice tension to twitch against in the meantime, whilst you grow accustomed to your fate. But sooner rather than later, you seem to pick up on part of what’s going on. Realising the extent that your body will let you gain understanding, anyway. Big bright and wide eyes stare directly at him, through him, and he can’t stop the soft coo that escapes him at the way you continue to furrow your brows at him, though this time in anger, probably. He’s not surprised, and he thinks you look so fucking cute when you’re all mad like this—fuck, he hopes you cry tonight too! Like you usually do when you’re really upset, yeah? God, he’s fucked his fist outside of your barely cracked open bedroom door too many times to count when he’s caught you sobbing, the memory of your tear stained cheeks has him already needy, gnawing at the inside of his cheek before poking at it anxiously, soothing over the new wounds.

He can’t help himself, offering you a wide, toothy grin at the way you assumedly tug as hard as you can to escape your confines, laughing at the way you head snaps towards your wrist, noticing the rope that digs into your soft skin, and still yet you try. Choking on a hiss from the pain that no doubt runs through your arm, from both jerking your muscles uselessly, and from the burn of fiction from the rope.

You’re so pretty like this, he feels like he’s gonna die from excitement.

“Hey, hey—!” he tries to calm you down, standing up far too quickly for his own good as he promptly grows dizzy, stumbling for a second or two until he regains his composure, continuing to gently laugh at your feeble attempts to escape his affections. Nothing will stop him from getting to you now, not even his own body. “You’re only gonna hurt yourself further if you keep—“ interrupted by a muted moan coming from your silenced throat, and despite his general social anxiety, he knows better than anyone what annoyance sounds like when tainting your words. And his cheeks hurt to stretch his smile more at the sound, because any reaction is a good reaction to him. “What was that?” he takes a step closer, eyes flitting over your barely dressed body, worn shirt and torn skirt hiding very little from his half lidded gaze. “I—I couldn’t understand you, s-sorry…” stuttering now that he’s inching closer to you out of sheer anticipation, ignoring the way you attempt to kick and flee from the bed as he takes one step at a time, unable to focus much on what he’s actually saying because he’s too busy concentrating on how well your tits bounce when you tug, and the small glimpses of red marks he gets peeks of from under your rope squirming. Always so fucking pretty, it’s unfair!

He just wants to repay the favour. Wants to look after his big sister tonight, because no one else will, right? S’not like he wants to do anything bad, he just knows you so well! Understands that you struggle with affection, and that’s okay! He loves you anyway, and would do anything for you!

Even if that means he has to force you to accept his adoration.

And he’s genuine in his apology, because he would much rather not have to gag you too. If only you could understand him from the get go, and not require some amount of taming… But that’s okay, that’s fine. He’s more than willing to put any amount and more effort into loving you, because you’re worth every single second of this. This… This flailing, pulling and twisting, trying to turn on the unwashed sheets of his bed, slipping from the pillow as you fight his approach—but he’s real good at tying knots, right? So good that you haven’t managed to move much at all, staying right where he left you like a good girl—all you’re really accomplishing is tiring yourself out, dummy!

Which is exactly what he wanted, of course.

You’re just so cute when you’re struggling! He’s seen it plenty times before, obviously. When he’s been tailing you, sneaking several steps behind you when bad men appear and take you into dark alleyways, cock in his hand to jerk off to the sight of you struggling. It’s about time he sees it up close and personal for himself, palming away at the leaking tip of his cock over his stretched thin pants when you meet him with that same look of fear. So wide and cute, glassy and confused… What your little brother may lack in raw strength and agility, he surely makes up for in sleight of hand, and desperate planning, right?

The rustling of bed sheets slowly starts to calm down, knowing that he’s just waiting, standing above you with his cock pressed against his hand, finger toying with where precum starts to seep through the thick fabric of his jeans, staring, hazy with his gaze as he simply watches you struggle. Desperation suits you so well, he sighs to himself, wasting no time in unbuttoning his pants and helping tug them down enough to expose his rock hard little brother cock pointing directly at you. A wet patch forming right where his tip twitches against his boxers, made worse by the fact that he stretches the nights waiting away and inadvertently smears the salty mixture with an unintentional buck of his hips. Casual despite the circumstances, because loving you is so normal, no instinctual to him.

And he’s waited so long for this. Not just tonight, but every night. You’re the only one who puts up with him. The only one who is even remotely kind to him, sometimes, when no one else is looking. You’re the only one he’s ever felt true, raw emotions for—that’s real, that is. He doesn’t like to count his body pillows—not when he secretly tapes your face to them now, salivating over the picture enough to melt the colours, fuck hole thoroughly stretched wider now that he imagines it’s you, the love of his life.

“Forgive me,” he begins, pinging the waistband of his boxers down so that his cock is able to spring free, hissing into the thud of his tip against his meek stomach, now tacky with a fat glob of precum. “I— um, I love you…” he admits bashfully, laughing awkwardly at the end of his words as he starts to crawl up and onto the bed, doing his best to avoid the obvious—but useless—kicking motions you make towards him. “Like a lot, and uh…” with your starfish position, it’s exceedingly easy for him to slip between your legs. Shuffling closer on his knees until they press against your supremely soft thighs, and he chokes on a moan at the connection. “And—and I wanted to thank you!” he looks up at you for a brief moment, noting the way your saliva soaks the cloth between your lips, and his balls ache to replace the cloth with his cock. Maybe one day. “I wanted to show you how much I love you…” his words are muffled behind his top, removing it with a complete lack of care as he tosses it somewhere to the side. It’s not gonna matter tonight anyway.

“You can hate me for it if you want,” he heaves urgently, tickling his fingers against your inner thighs, causing his breath to catch in his throat. Hitching at how squishy they are, pinching and prodding gently so as to not scared you too much, despite the way your body instantly shivers against him in response. “As long as you stay here. Hating me wont change the fact that I love you. More than anything and anyone. I love you.” He leans forward. “I love you,” he plays with the hem of your ruined skirt—you wont be needing that anymore. “I love you,” fat beads of precum roll down his cock, past his balls and onto the sheets, a few more drips coming into contact with your most perfect thighs. “I love you,” he leans further forward, until his hands are stabilising beside your waist, and his nails dig into the sheets for purchase when you continue to writhe and whine. “Wanna be good for you,” he confesses, crawling further up the bed so that he’s able to straddle your hips now, cock front and centre with your eyes as it bobs for more of your pleading attention. “Wanna be a good little brother, okay? I jus’— jus’ need to help you see that, that’s all! It won’t hurt if you stay still, I promise,” nervous energy usually makes him ramble, embarrassingly so. But he finds it difficult to feel shame this time as he babbles because his nerves are as strong as his love for you is. And he’d never be ashamed of loving you too much. Promptly unbuttoning your shirt, one button as a time, with careful consideration for the way you twist and tug, making him sway with clumsy attempts once or twice. But he gets there. Managed to expose your front to him with a stuttered gasp caught in his throat, and then a thick, steeling swallow.

“I’m gonna love you, because no one else can.”

Beloved big sister, stunned into silence as he shifts up once or twice to get into a better position. You aren’t wearing a bra, and he’s seen your tits more than a few times both in and out of the home. But this close? Up and personal—he can see the way your chest heaves for air with his weight pressing down on you—fuck… He’s so happy that this is the first time. That he can share a first time with you, of fucking each other for the first time, feeling good together for the first time, his hips automatically rolling against your chest and between your tits as he drools over the sight alone.

With curious intent, his hand reaches out to one tit at first. Gently pawing and squeezing despite your best efforts to dismount him, creeping up to your nipple just to pinch and ping at it a couple times for good measure. But you sound so pretty when you attempt to gasp, wincing away from his touch, so he brings his other hand up to do the exact same to your other nipple, and hums in awe at the way you squirm under him. Allowing him to use you for stability for the most part, wriggling around in both pain and pleasure if the quiet little squeak at the end of your whines is anything to go by.

But he’s always been greedy, hasn’t he? You’ve called him as such on more than one occasion, spat the word out at him when he steals your food for those yummy indirect kisses he loves oh so much. And though he loathes to not be able to shove his tongue so far down your throat that you can only taste him for weeks to come, there’s a certain sadistic enjoyment that rolls down his spine upon hearing your muted moans from under him. Like your body is betraying you, giving away your enjoyment so much so that you’re incapable of hiding it, even behind the makeshift gag he’s got stuffed in your mouth. Poor thing, he’s got plenty more for you!

“Y’know,” he resettles on your midsection, wriggling around himself until he’s comfortably perched right above your tits, and his cock leaks down between them. “They’ve always looked so soft…” he nods down at your chest, gleeful with the makeshift scowl you send back at him. Just for him, yeah? Just for your little brother… And left unsaid is: I’m happy I finally got a chance to feel them myself! But instead, he simply kneads on them some more. Really leans into the squish of them, toying with how soft and plush your big sister tits are, and how he urgently wants to milk from you.

But more than that is the hard throb of his cock, begging for some much needed attention as you’re force to simply lay there and take it. You should be used to that by now, right? So he expects you not to complain too much as he drags his balls in front of him, resting them on your chest, and places his cock firmly between your perfect sister tits. Helping to keep his cock in position by unceremoniously grabbing and pushing at the sides of your tits, until his cock is squeezed between them and safe and sound.

You make some sort of sound in response, a hidden protest to his grabby hand actions, but you’re in no position to deny him now are you? And more than anything, he’s so proud at how quickly you’ve calmed down! Perhaps it’s because you’ve seen him creeping on you when he’s grown sloppy—or more aptly, falling further in love—with you. Already prepared you to an extent, dulled your already broken mind to his misbehaving like a good little brother does, yeah? Maybe that’s why you don’t put up much of a fight, because you’ve already learned to love him to a degree, letting him have his fun and show you just how much you mean to him because little brothers always get their way in the end, right? You’ve lived with him long enough to know that, so what difference does having his cock currently squished between your pretty tits really make?

Without really realising it, he starts to push your tits closer together. More than necessary, until it feels like his cock is drowning in your tits, enveloped by a feeling of warm softness, and his eyes roll to the back of his skull with fluttering lashes the second his hips dare to buck forward the smallest amount. A slow automatic back and forth because he can’t stop thinking about you, romantic if not for the circumstances, but full of love and affection for him. Doing his best to hold back for you, to take his time, even if only to selfishly indulge in the beloved big sister he’s been pining after for as long as he can remember. Even his voice drips with love, a deep yearning pleading for him to continue, keep rocking gently between your tits because God, you already feel better than anything he’s had before.

“Feels good…” he pants, hot and heavy as his skin heats under your scornful stare back up at him, drooling around the gag enough for some of it it spill around the edges, and as if hypnotised, he promptly leans down to lick it back up for you. Swallowing slowly when he sits back up for your viewing pleasure, showcasing his devotion to you, and keeping the pressure nicely on your tits to fuck his cock between. “I’ve wanted you for a really long time… Couldn’t k-keep away— haah—” obsessed with how well his cock slips between your tits, dribbling precum all over to help him glide in and out more easily, hanging his head low so that his hair dangles in front and his pathetic expression of enjoyment is hidden from your view. Selfishly enjoying. Fucking forward faster. “And—and I— fuck,” a moan tumbles from his chapped lips, open mouthed and whiny, like a bitch in heat. “And I’m sorry, it’s jus’, um, f-fuck” the words are lost on him with the quicker pace, his back arching like an actual dog as he mounts and fucks against your bouncing tits harder and deeper. Like a filthy virgin, heaving above you as he struggles to keep up with himself, can’t clear his mind when his big sister is making him feel so good, can he?

Not that he doesn’t try, babbling nonsense as he humps from his holier than thou position, squeezing his legs around your ribs almost as tightly as he squishes your tits around his cock. Keeping you pinned in place as if the ropes weren’t enough for his own selfish indulgence. “You’re— you’re mine.” Escapes him, surprising even him when he practically growls the words, digging his nails into your tits with newfound need, greedy with desire as lust pools in his tummy, making it all light and twisty with butterflies. “My big s-sister, making me feel so, so good—!” he whines, loud and clear now as he bucks his hips fervently, desperate for you, to share his love of you, to feel this fucking good forever.

And maybe if he makes you feel good, you’ll actually want to be his too. Forever and ever, locked away from the world together all alone. Able to explore each other together, never leaving the other, wrapped around the other in sibling love for as long as he lives, and—

“I—” his hips start to slow, lifting his gaze just as gently to look directly at you and, ah…

You’re crying.

Big fat wet tears lining your lash line, sparkling in the glow of his computer. A few of them spilling over to roll down your cheek as you sniffle away to yourself, no doubt pleading up at him for something, anything, whatever you want, it’s yours.

If only you could ask.

Instead, he tries to decipher the meaning for you. Which doesn’t take long, a mere split second as his hips stutter between your tits some more, rocking unevenly as the intimate sight only confirms to him that you do want him in the exact same way he wants you. Otherwise why would you be so vulnerable with him right now? So pliant and defeated, refusing to fight back now that he’s shown his dominance and affection from literally right above you.

And oh, “God, you’re so hot when you’re crying…” he admits, bringing a thumb up to swipe away some of the stray tears, dunking that same thumb between his lips to suck at a little as he begrudgingly draws his hips back and once again settles between your legs.

The taste of your tears has him fucking the air. Bucking against nothing.

He’s already a little close, all thanks to you. He always cums quickly when it’s your doing, even if he’s just watching you from afar like some sort of pervert. But to be hovering above your skirt clad cunt, so dangerously close to the ultimate act of love itself, has him already gripping at the base of his cock to help stave off the inevitable. Rhythmically squeezing and stopping the waves of pleasure that keep his cock twitching as he watches you sob, gently, like you were scared of him right now. And the tears only get bigger and wetter when his hand snakes under your skirt, knowing full well that your shared bully, Whitney, has already demanded you wear no panties. Letting his dirty nails drag up along your inner thigh, pinching his way along to your cunt, feeling the heat emanating from it the closer he gets, but stopping short of touching it to instead flip your skirt up over your thighs, just for him to almost immediately fold in on himself.

Holy fucking shit, holy fucking shit, fuck me—

The most perfect cunt he’s ever seen. Angelic, especially with how she already leaks slicks for his throat to dry at the sight of. Puffy and cute, tiny little hole for him to inspect as his shaking hand tugs your lips apart, just for him to drool spit down onto your pretty little clit, and fuck he’s an immediate goner.

“Keep— Can you please keep cryin’ for me…” he bubbles, voice unsteady and failing him as he flickers between looking at your slit, and back up to your scrunched up tearful face. “Makin’ me so hard, fuck, you’re so pretty…” he basically purrs, tone whisper light as he struggles to find his voice, lining his cock up to your hole without a second thought because he’s been waiting so long, and he loves you so much, and he just wants to show his big sister just how devoted he is to you, and you deserve a reward for playing so well tonight, and to be honest he’d rather die than not be buried balls deep in your tiny sister cunt right this fucking second, so—

So he catches his well slicked up tip onto your hole. Almost effortlessly, if not for the way he practically falls into you upon first content, bucking wildly inside of that tight, wanting little hole in an effort to impress his big sister. To love her the way she deserves, choking on a moan from the way your cunt so eagerly accepts him, sucking him in and off as well as you can from your pinned down position. Not that you’ve got a choice, nor have you any fight left in you, right? Resolved to meekly laying there, muscles tense as he’s sure your bones must ache from stretching in the same position for a couple hours. So he promises you a soft, but loving, I’ll be quick. It’ll be over soon.

And then there’s tomorrow too. And the day after. And the week after. And the month after. And for as long as you’ll have him, he’ll be kneeling between your legs, slowly pushing his little brother cock into your tight little hole, commending you for how unfairly good you feel with a deep inhale, exhaling into a shiver down his spine with a matching darker moan. You feel so good, actually… Much better than all of his dirty fantasies combined. Nothing could ever, or will ever, hope to compare to the feeling of how warm and wet you are around him. Stroking him off so nicely with the little humps he makes until he’s all the way in, and his balls plap back against your ass, a sound you will absolutely be getting used to in the coming days.

Looking at the mess you’ve made for yourself, a mix of all kinds of fluids, he finds himself yearning more. Curling on top of you, hunched as if he were in pain in an attempt to fuck his cock deeper if at all possible. And he can’t hide his utter pleasure of finally being able to show his favourite big sister exactly how he feels as copious curses spill from his bitten bruised lips, mumbling various words of praise as he lets you get accustomed to his size and stretch. “So pretty,” he whispers, troubled by how you’ve already ruined him. “Gonna show you how much I care, how— ah, how only I can love you…” He promises. And the drool that spills from your gagged mouth coaxes him into drawing his hips back, until only the tip remains. And the tears that roll down your cheeks convinces him to push back in, all the way to the hilt again, with a satisfied sigh. And the way your slick just gushes around his cock, evidence that you love your little brother just a little too much too, right? Reciprocating his feelings in the most personal way possible, begging for him to repeat the motion. A lazy in and out, back and forth, feeling every sordid inch of his throbbing cock as he strokes himself off inside of your cunt, running every vein along the soft and squishy walls of your hole, until the sight alone is all too much for him to bear and he snaps his hips against you. In love with the gurgle you let out at the brutal fuck forward, keeping up the cruel pace because he simply can’t stop. Can’t help himself, not when it comes to you, wanting to make his big sister feel so good that you can no longer deny his feelings for you.

Or until he breaks you enough that your denial no longer matters.

He’s eager to prove that getting pinned down and fucked by him, your little brother, isn’t as bad as when strangers do it to you. Pounding his fat cock into you at such a high speed that he’s making the bed squeak from under the weight of his every greedy thrust. Like he’s got one chance only to win you over, which isn’t true. He could keep you tied up for weeks, hanging off the end of his cock until you decide to give in to what belongs to him by blood, if that’s what it truly takes. But with the way you shake under him, tits bouncing for him to grab at absentmindedly, mind turned to mush the second he started fully fucking into you with rushed moans and feminine whines for more, he thinks he might be able to fuck you onto his side. Using your tits for stability again, he adds some pressure on your nipples to help push himself up a little, fucking his cock right up to your cervix with the new angle as his balls continue to slap! against your ass and thighs—sticky, tacky with slick and pre that spills out of your warm sister cunt with every fast fuck forwards, leaving him breathless, completely stunned into relative silence besides the grunts and groans your cunt squeezes out of him, and at least he knows that your body is enjoying his sweet assault too. Cunt squelching with how wet she is, so cute, welcoming his urgent thrusts like a homecoming, and he supposes that’s fitting.

Nobody knows you better than your very own little brother, and that must include your insides too, right? Humping into you frantically, clinging onto your tits for dear life as he feels his balls already tightening, further proving his intrinsic point that you do belong to him, just as he does to you, and he can’t help but to stutter into you. Shuddering through the tight suck of your cunt, adopting a lovesick little grin at the way your hole barely allows him to leave before he’s having to push back in again. And he loves you so much, loves your pretty little cunt too, and how well she sucks him off. How soft and squishy you are, so perfect and welcoming of his intrusion, wrapped around him as if you were molded specifically for him, and he’s all too happy to fuck his shape into you over and over again, repeatedly knocking against your sweet spot to have your insides squirming and contracting around him so sweetly, fuck—you’ve got him so close, baby… So near that sweet edge, pouting down at you as he repeats your name like a prayer, a mantra of affection as he fucks your cute cunt so unfairly hard and fast, you’re practically bouncing back on his cock at this rate.

“It’s—fuck, you’re so good, I— I can’t—!” he sighs desperately, unsure as to what he supposedly can’t, but nonetheless he feels it in his bones. Right down to his toes, where they scrunch up with his thrusts, fucking into you like he’s never fucked before in a hasty attempt to show off, to be good, to make you feel just as good as you’re making him feel right now, linked not only by the familial bond, but by the way his balls bounce off you, and the way his cock throbs inside of you, dribbling precum with every draw back and fucking it back into you with every fall forward. It’s just—it’s not his fault, yknow? That you feel so good, so heavenly, perfectly perfect, causing him to fall more in love, dropping one hand off your tit to instead grip tightly onto one of the ropes holding your arm up and in place, doing his utmost to remain in control, but…

“I’m s-sorry, sorry, I love you—! You’re—you’re the best big sister in the world, feel so good, I’m—”

Briefly, he wonders what you might say in response to his pleading. A quick glance at your face shows more tears welling, a small shake of your head no. And it’s this look of utter contempt, mixed nicely with the harsh suck of your cunt as he fucks as fast as he can for a few extra strokes that has him spilling inside of you. Falling completely over so that his sweaty body sticks to your own, and he can continue to hump into your perfect angel hole as thick ropes of sticky white hit against your cervix, filling you up for the first time tonight with a broken whine escaping his burning throat.

And he keeps thrusting as he cums, apologising for the surprise creampie as he had intended on pulling out, but you can’t blame him for being unable to when you feel that good, right? Stuttered and misplaced, sloppy with his fucks as more seed dribbles from his tip, some drops dripping down to your ass no doubt from his continued movements, but he offers you such full fat fucks that he’s almost positive that he’ll impregnate you sooner or later, and then you’ll really be forced to stay with him, right?

So maybe it wasn’t such a bad idea after all, because you can hate him all you like. You’re supposed to anyway, to an extent, as his big sister, right?

So long as you never leave his side, carrying his baby.

[fictional-angel-deactivated2026]

Thinking about whitlar this morning, but with a little twist hehe...

TW: incest, cheating. WC: 646

Imagine with me, if you will... You've been dating Whitney for quite some time now, only because you didn't have a good enough reason to decline their advances... Like, might as well accept their feelings at this point, y'know? And like it's fun. They're fun, for sure. You've got no complaints, really.

But little brother Kylar's cock just feels too good to give up :^(...

Cradled in his arms, he's always been a clingy little thing. Won't let go for the life of him to be honest, even as you beg and plead for him to hurry the fuck up because Whitney is on his way to your place to pick you up for the night, and you don't wanna be caught taking your little brothers fat cock so deep and well :^(....! But he's squishing you so tightly against him, whole body wrapped around your own so that you can't escape his cock, and his cock barely exits your tight little hole before he's burying himself balls deep again, and he's drooling all over you and ruining your makeup and he just keeps apologising. Over and over again, speech slurred and breath hot— m'sorry, m'so sorry big sis, can't—can't stop, don' wanna—

And you don't want him to stop either, not really... Because it feels so good to be full of your little brothers cock, right? He knows you so well, can fuck right up against your sweet spot with such natural ease, like he was born just to make you feel good... And here he is, begging and sobbing to do just that, forever n ever, tight arms locked around your back to keep you from escaping whilst he bullies his little brother cock in and out of you at such a pace that all you can hear is the sweet wet squelch of his pre lubing you up, and you barely catch the call from Whitney demanding your attention, answering it from afar before Kylar redirects your silent moans with a sloppy kiss. Hot and heavy, like he'd die if he didn't suck on your tongue right now!!!

"Where the fuck are you, slut?" Whitney's voice would reprimand you through the phone, but you're too busy swapping spit with your needy little brother to immediately reply. You're just being a good big sister, making sure Kylar has enough to drink before pausing briefly enough to reply to your partner.

"Be—" Kylar is just so greedy, though. Fucking into you faster, attempting to prove his worth to you by forcing you into some more cheating kisses. Fervent, desperate smacks of lips before you have to finish your lying excuse. "Be out in— in a second, Whit. I—" You sound like you're getting fucked, it's soooo fucking obvious, from the way you struggle to catch your breath, to the way Kylar pathetically whines loudly at the way your cunt sucks him off even better than before now that Whitney is witnessing just how good you take his cock. "I jus' need t'do my makeup, and then—"

Kylar would momentarily let go of his grasp around you to instead tug at your wrist, letting the phone fall still on call with a helpless look in his eyes.

"Me, me, pay attention to me big sis..." He'd pout, locking an arm around your neck so that your face is pushed into his own so that your moans are sent directly down his red hot ear. "S'me makin' you feel s'good, c'mon, pay attention t'me, please, please—"

And in the background, you can hear Whitney say something, but the opening and closing of the front door is all that's necessary to push you into giving up the lie.

Your little brothers cock is just too good to give up on cheating for. Maybe you should date him instead? As he's been begging for since he learnt how to talk.

[neetily]

thinking about ummmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm wolf whitney.

tw: hybrids, public sex, exhibitionism, knotting, humiliation

idk there's just something about whitney that screams wolf to me. not just because it looks nice with ww (wolf whitney) but i also think it'd speak to his territorial nature!

thinking about how he'd love to claim you so publicly... and how he'd love to humiliate you by putting you on a collar. like he might be the dog in this relationship, but he's got a pretty little human pet on collar and leash to parade around town, keeping you on a literal tight leash so as to not let you stray too far from his side, just in case he wants to fuck with you in any public space.

thinking about him taking you walkies, and how others would gawk at you and call you a bad owner for letting your pet wolf act so bad... but he's so much better than you are!! in every respect!! faster, stronger, more agile... you could never win against the big bad wolf, and now here you are going out on your daily walk with him as he takes to stripping you one layer at a time the further he walks you. sneering at you the whole time, flashing his pearly fangs as a threat to do as he says, or else there'll be trouble.

trouble not even when he gets home, because he's not opposed to providing you the consequences to (admittidly unfair) actions right where he stands. tail swishing with lust fuelled attention as you attempt to cover yourself up. again. and he's given you enough chances already, hasn't he? all that snarling, and chewing, and tail smacks have done very little to dissuade you...

sitting naked on the park bench isn't unsual by now— it's one of his favourite places to punish you. plenty of people to watch what a slut you can be when under his command, spreading you wide open as he forces you to sit down on his wolf cock. and oh, how fat and needy it is too... swinging between his legs for pretty much the whole walk, eager to be buried fat balls deep in you... and you're so easy to exploit too, a little nuzzle here, and quick peck there, and you're practically melting in his sharp claw hold.

he's always loved how soft and squishy you are when compared to him. pinching at the fat of your thighs as he uses his sheer animalistic strength to force you into boncing up and down his cock. humping into you from below, making sure everyone in town gets a good view of how fucking soaked you get when he fucks his precum into you. you like getting humilated like this, right? don't you just love all of the flashing camera lights, and jeers, and wolf whistles? doesn't it feel nice to be dominated by a wolf like him, pretty baby?

and God, the way he would make sure to leave his wolfish mark. coiling his scruffy tail around you to tickle your tits as they bounce with his fucks, chomping down on your fragile little neck with the threat of danger, licking big fat stripes of saliva all over your stupid fucked out face, leaving claw straks all alone every inch of skin he can unfortunately reach. just so that everyone knows that you belong to him, and not the other way around. sealing the deal with the fattest fucking knot, God, bulging so big against your too tight little hole enough for you to whimper and plead, but that only gets him throbbing harder </3

but also i just think he'd be pretty. with a long textured tail and cute pointy wolf ears... or whatever...

[neetily]

Slow Down — SDV (Alex)

— ✧ warnings: discussions of sexual trauma, hurt/comfort, fingering, consent checks — ✧ word count: 4,336 — ✧ genre: smut 18+ / hurt&comfort — ✧ synopsis: With you is when he feels most at home. Most vulnerable. An opportunity to relax and truly be himself, without the pressure that the mundanity of daily life typically brings.

— ✧ A/N: THIS ONE GOES OUT TO ALL MY SEXUALLY TRAUMATISED READERS 🤪🤪🤪!

but for real. it wasn't your fault.

please take the warnings above seriously. the whole premise of this piece is that i wanted alex to comfort me through some trauma, so as such, this piece is highly personalised and might not tailor 100% to your tastes. and that's okay! we all heal differently. i just refrenced my own life because i wanted to be indulgent, and it's okay if you'd rather the events in this fic went differently.

be safe and look after yourself, okay?

The weight of your body on top of him was always the most comforting thing in the world. Like a warm blanket, having you wrapped around his own so gently, so snug. It reminded him that there was good yet in the world— the simple act of trusting him to keep you warm, with his own arms wrapped lazily around your back to keep you pressed snugly against him, the top of your head well within kissing distance for him to dote upon with spatters of light pecks. By virtue of simply existing, you make him feel whole. Accepted, most of all. With you as his sole audience, he knows that he doesn’t have to preform. No approval seeking, or admiration to attain. To lay there with you on top is the only role he feels is worth playing.

With you is when he feels most at home. Most vulnerable. An opportunity to relax and truly be himself, without the pressure that the mundanity of daily life typically brings.

“I love you.” He whispers so easily, tumbling from his lips like good morning. Followed by a contended sigh as he rolls you over to the side, wanting more than anything to look upon your pretty face with utter devotion. Tracing the smile lines at your lips with his half lidded gaze, barely rubbing his nose against your own as a way to further communicate I love you. I love you. I love you. It’s a fact of the universe, I love you.

He mimics your smile when you whisper I love you too back at him, big cheesy beam stuck on his face at the simple thought that he is loved.

All he wants to do is make you happy, more than anything he’s ever wanted before. It’s his life purpose now, etched into his teeth as he bares his pearly whites to you, dripping from the way his fingertips lightly float up and down your exposed shoulder, whispering affection with each pass. He can think of nothing better than to comfort you, as you so often do with him. To provide you with a happy, healthy life. Something mundane and— God forbid— normal. It’s what you deserve, really. It’s what he’s strived for since day one of dating you.

And oh, how he hopes you give you just that and more. Especially tonight, in the bedroom, hidden under soft sheets together with your legs already tangled in his own… God does he hope to comfort you. In as many ways as you may want or need— he’s your perpetual lap dog.

But he thinks he knows a good place to start.

Hand dropping onto your thigh, he shuffles under the sheets to settle it on your hip. Immediately tugging on the waistband of your panties—his favourite bedtime wear—almost absentmindedly. As if loving you was an instinctual need, borne out of his most primitive mind. Downright homesick for you, despite resting right by your side. He can never get enough of you, not ever in a million years; a fact he feels as though he’s known forever, too. And somewhere, probably hidden within his bones, and muscles, and tendons, is the truth that he was made for loving you.

It’s second nature for him to squeeze at your waist, the intimacy of being known. Like how he naturally smooths his thumb over your hip just the way you like, and how he knows he’s done good given the resulting heavenly sigh you let out.

If he had a tail, it’d sure be wagging right about now.

“’M so lucky t’have you.” He sighs with you, pinching lightly at your hidden but bare skin, because he can. Because he loves you.

And he knows you’re gearing up for a lovingly cheeky reply when you smirk before responding, shifting your weight from under the covers in an attempt to grow closer to him. To test his limits, no doubt.

“You have me?” You quip, raising a brow at his innocent assumption. “Isn’t it the other way around?”

He can’t argue with you there, folding immediately upon hearing your knowing giggle, because he’s so beyond happy to have been caught by you. To be yours is a privilege, he thinks, and one he doesn’t take lightly. Unless it’s with his touch, of which he’s the most gentle, of course. Ghosting against your hip, trailing feather light down your thighs to leave goose bumps in his wake.

His love is reliable, like the sun. How it rises every morning with your pretty sleepy face, sunlight soft and warm to the touch. And you, the light of his life, turn him into the most devout sun worshiper. Toiling day in and out in an effort to express just how much he loves you, how he simple adores every inch of you, especially as he lets his hand lay flat against your waist with a playful little squeeze. A reminder that he’s there, and he can think of nothing better than to lay in bed with you all night long with giggles and crinkled sheets and—

Well, he can think of one more better thing, actually.

It’s only natural, as so many things are when it comes to you, for his hand to dip a little lower. His body shifting up the sheets so that he’s resting his head in his bent at the elbow palm, supporting his heavy weight as he dotes on you from above. Affection oozing from every fluttering of lashes, there’s no better sight than your sunny smile. “You’re so pretty tonight.” He mumbles, mostly to himself. But he’s happy that you caught onto it too— Reliable. Like the sun you are.

“Tonight?”

“Every night,” He corrects himself with a huff, though he nonetheless beams back at you when you match his adoring gaze. You never fail to have him feeling like a little kid again, giddy upon looking at his crush. “Always. Always and forever. Most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen.”

Part of his heart sinks upon spouting the truth, because it doesn’t matter just how often he compliments and reassures and dotes and loves upon you, it never feels like he’s doing so enough. Especially when his clumsy lips spill out all the wrong words in all the wrong order, just for you to tease him about.

You’re not the only one who can tease, though. And he’s always been better when talking with his hands, hasn’t he?

Just a dip further, barely noticeable to be honest, and he’s playing with the front band of your panties more purposefully. Not so much pinging the fabric back against you, but rather, rubbing the fabric between his fingers as a means to flirt. It’s soft, he immediately finds himself musing. And then, but you’re softer, a deep yearning in his aching heart just begging for him to explore the thought further, instinctively brushing his knuckles against the squish of your tummy with loving affection. So light and gentle, like he was afraid of hurting you with all of his trained for strength. He needn’t do much else to communicate his intentions, not when they’re so clear from the way his hazy gaze settles from your pretty face, down to where he assumes your equally as pretty pussy must be hiding under the sheets, but he pauses nonetheless. Offers you a small little smile, an attempt to ease you into the transition he’d like to go tonight.

“Is this okay?” He questions you wholeheartedly, with as little pressure as possible. Just love. Simple affection.

“Mhm…” You mumble back at him, which certainly sounds like approval, but he’d like to seek more. His hand still idly pressed under the sheets, against your half bare body, waiting for the further confirmation his raised brow is seeking.

It’s a game he’s played often with you, so a second or two is all you really need to pick up on what he’s putting down. A shared connection; communication without communicating.

“I mean, yeah. Yeah, it’s okay. More than, really.”

“That’s better,” He praises you, once more returning to tugging mildly at your panties, staring down at you with that boyish grin you so easily force him to make. Like the pride that’s swelling in his heart over simply laying next to you is spilling onto his warm cheeks, never mind the sheer joy that comes from being given permission to touch you— God, that’s a dream come true every. Single. Time. “Jus’ lemme know if y’want me t’stop, and—”

You cut him off with an exaggerated sigh, and the faux annoyed eye roll you send his way only makes his smile grow larger. Cheeky girl, you wear confidence so well. Makes his cock all twitchy, actually. A bead of precum rising to the tip, solely from admiring you command him so easily, without words at all. And he’ll follow you every fucking time, all your whims and wishes, they’re all his privilege to obey.

“Jus’ gonna move down a bit, okay?” He alerts you, waiting for you to nod before committing to lowering his hand under your panties, an inaudible gasp escaping him at the feeling of the warm wet that greets his fingertips upon petting at your slit. Slowly, like a prayer, a lazy up and down from bottom to top, and then top to bottom, just to help ease you into the sensation of him touching you. Not that you aren’t aware of what that feels like, but because he likes to take his time with you. Really savor the moment with you, for both his and your own pleasure. Teasing, lightly edging his way further between your lips until he can almost dip a digit into your hole before he stops, and the cycle continues.

You sound so nice when he’s playing with you like this. All light and airy— pretending to be shy, coy little thing… You know just how much fun he has playing these games with you, don’t you? And you’re so eager, aren’t you? The quickening up and down of your chest, the cute little lip bite you greet him with behind peering lashes; you’re so fucking attractive to him without even really trying. Excited for what the night might bring, how he might look after you tonight. As he’d love to every night, mind you. Hand down your pants or not, that doesn’t matter to him. So long as he can make you smile all pretty like you are right now. Dopey and sunny, just the way he likes you.

Just the way his cock likes too, apparently. Bobbing against his worn out boxers, threatening to spill out from the plenty holes they adorn from just how much he utterly adores you and your cute little face that’s staring back at him so lovingly, so expectantly, and fuck if he doesn’t want more than anything to preform so well for you tonight. Playing his favourite role— your lover.

You feel nice, like always. Laying down beside him, looking up at him like he hung the stars in the sky. And his cock twitches with pride, among other things. Beyond thankful to be right here with you, curled up so late at night, with his cock rock hard and twitching against his tummy whilst his rough finger pads explore your pretty little pussy. You’re his gorgeous girl, and he intends on providing you with the princess treatment you properly deserve tonight.

“So wet…” He coos down at you, lovesick little grin tugging at his lips when you mewl so sweetly back up at him. And the way you sound has him absolutely fucking certain that he’ll never get over you. Not for as long as he lives, endeavored to love and support you forever more— including by taking care of your sexual needs, too. “Wanna make y’feel so good,” He practically whines with affection, letting his lashes flutter shut briefly as his fingertip finds home on your clit. Tender with his touch, treating you like glass from how he ghosts over your clit so smoothly. His hips soon following suit with his movements, itching to be buried inside of you already. And he’d be embarrassed about it if he wasn’t so routinely honest with you, words and body in mind. “I swear—” he laughs with you at his immature thrusts, ever eager to please, he muses to himself. “The things y’do to me… And yer jus’ lyin’ there!”

But it’s true. You could do literally nothing and he’d pop a boner. Sometimes, just the mere thought of your cute little face, or of your pretty smile, or fuck— even just the sound of your voice sometimes is enough to get him going. So whipped, in fact, that he’s quite happy to get off simply from getting you off, really. Letting his finger rub small circles against that puffy little clit he oh so adores, his throat suddenly drying at the sweet squelch of the movement. Something hidden under the sound of your meek whimpers and whines, but something he does his best to hone in on— because God, he loves hearing just how wet you are. Loves trailing slick up from your sopping hole and back to your clit, just to aid in how badly he wants to make you feel good.

And he doesn't mean to, honestly, but he gets a little too lost in the moment. Enjoys himself a little too much when it comes to getting you off, the finger he has pressed nicely against your clit instinctively drags down as he leans in for a brief kiss, his chest tight with the amount of lust and love he has pooling in his tummy, but he doesn’t mean to move so fast. Unaware of his mistake until his lips press hungrily against your own, and he’s met with… Well, what feels like confusion. Not a press back against him, but a barely there recoil. A wash of grey overtakes him, and he pulls back as fast as he can to assess the situation.

His finger rests idle against your hole, slightly dipped in before being met with refusal. And your lips, pressed into a thin tight line, only communicate the same. Time seems to stop for a moment or two, and all he can do is dumbly stare back at you, until you make the smallest little whimper and he finally manages to catch up to your concern.

Immediately, he softens. In both cock and gaze. And he instantly retracts his finger from your cunt, even going so far as to pull his hand out from your underwear completely.

“Fuck, babe… I’m so sorry, I—“ He fumbles, tone panicked and heart just bursting with apologies left muddled and tangled together. He’s not so good with words, but he hopes that his furrowed brows and the distance he places between himself and you communicates enough. Your joy is his joy, just as much as your pain is his pain, and he has to fight with himself not to touch you in response to your absent gaze. To not accidentally make things worse for you— though he wants to hug you so tight as soon as possible. Naturally, in his very bones, he wants to pull you closer and kiss you all better. Wrap you up in his big strong arms for protection— from him? “I should’ave asked, ‘m sorry— A-Are y’okay?”

There’s brief silence between when he questions your wellbeing to when you answer, and he worries he’s done more wrong. But he remains quiet— he doesn’t want to overwhelm you when something has clearly gone awry. His feelings come second rate right now, he needs you to understand.

“Uh, yeah. I’m fine.” You eventually deadpan, and he doesn’t think he’s ever heard someone more unfine than you are right now.

“I don’t think y’are, babe…” He seeks out more reassurance, hovering a hand above the sheets and hip. “Is it okay if I touch you? Like this, I mean.” He nods towards his hand, hoping to let you know that you can say no. He’d never force anything upon you— God, he hates the fucking thought.

Almost as much as he hates the thought of accidentally harming you. In any way, shape, or form; guilt seeping into his expression, and he regards you with complete acknowledgment.

It’s as though you’re no longer present, given how long it takes you to eventually nod, and his palm squeezes reassuringly at your covered hip. “Sorry, I… I dunno what happened, I just…” The way you trail off into nothing with your words, staring out at nothing in particular despite him being right beside you, breaks his fast paced big heart. He wants to comfort you so bad, needs to make you smile again, but only on your own terms. He wouldn’t force even that upon you, no matter how hard the instinct itches. “Sorry.” You finally look at him, and his heart only breaks some more at the cracked tone of your voice.

He hushes you gently, like a mother might when consoling a child. Not as a means to patronize you, but to comfort. I’ve got you, I’m here for you, and I love you. “It’s okay, you can think about it if y’want.” He offers you, his nerves getting the better of him as he continues to squeeze and tug at your waist. “But I don’t feel comfortable continuing t’night.”

“Yeah, um… Gimmie a minute.”

And God, the way you sound. So distant and unsure, like trapped under a bubble of obscurity. He could cry if he didn’t feel the need to be stronger for you right now.

He can’t help but to feel as though he’s failed you somehow, struggling to swallow the lump of upset that’s caught in his throat as his breath hitches, uncertain as to how to best proceed. Deep down in the sickly pit of his stomach, he hopes you know that he meant you no harm. And perhaps the anxiety choking his mind isn’t serving him very well, given that your eyes beg for him to remain seated when he attempts to move back to give you some more space. And all he can think is: Thank God, thank the Gods that he knows you well enough by now, inside and out, to pick up on your unspoken cues. Seemingly far better than you can yourself— or perhaps more willingly is the correct wording?

You asked for a minute, so he supposes he should give you that at least. At least. Several, in fact, until you feel more comfortable opening up. He’s in no rush, simply staring down at the sheets, idly rubbing soothing circles against your hip. And to be honest with you, he’d stay like this all night if you wanted him to. Unmoving, stable in his support of you.

But it seems as though you’ve sorted through your thoughts enough to bless him with some reprieve.

“I wanted to,” You start, and it feels as though his throat is closing some more at just how small you sound. Trigger fingers pleading to wrap you up in a tight, comforting hug. But he doesn’t want to push you so far— listening is enough. “I still want to… Continue, I mean.”

“I know, but—” shit, he didn’t mean to interrupt. Peering down at your little pout, he wonders if you can hear how scared his heart is. “Sorry, uh… Please continue, I’ll shut up now.”

You shuffle closer, shifting under the sheets to bury your head against his chest, and he’s unable to fight his instincts this time. Immediately his arms wrap around you as a means to protect, to shield and comfort you from the big bad in the room.

He really hopes it isn’t him.

“It felt good, really! But then… God, I don’t know how to explain it… I just, I couldn’t relax. Like, despite wanting you to keep going, I— I think I got scared?”

“Oh, my baby…” He can’t help but coo down at you, sniffing apprehensively in the wake of your revelation. “’M’so sorry… I didn’t mean to frighten you, I just—”

“No, no,” You rush to cut him off, and he loves you so fucking dearly, of course he gives you the floor with a tight squeeze of his arms wrapped around your shoulders. “It wasn’t you that scared me, promise. I promise, Alex, it wasn’t you…”

The panic in your voice, as if you had done something wrong, and not the fact that sometimes your brain isn’t so kind to you, and how badly he wants to pick out all the bad, one by one, until there’s nothing left but good to fuel you, and how he can feel you slightly shake with residual fear, even in his protective arms, and how he wishes so much to hurt and harm those who even dared to make you feel this way, and how he wants to wrap you up forever and ever so that no more harm can come to you, and—

“It wasn’t you.” You drag him out of his thoughts. And there’s that crack in your words, the sliver of tears the line your lash line— he can feel them wet his bare chest.

Until now, he didn’t know that his heart could physically ache with how much he feels for you.

“I know,” he swallows his own tears, hushing them away. “It’s not your fault.”

“I didn’t mean to get scared,” You frantically attempt to soothe the assumed hurt, and he doesn’t know how to appropriately communicate with you just how much the hurt has never stemmed from you setting boundaries. “I wanted it, I promise.” The fawning. He hates the fawning. Not you, but what those people made you feel forced to do.

“It’s not your fault.” He tries again, sterner, this time.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—”

“Baby,” He sighs adoringly. “It’s not your fault,” He hums down at you, gently rocking you in his iron grip because it’s all he feels he can do for you right now. I want you to be okay, that’s all. “’M proud of you actually, for speaking up. That must have taken a lot out of you.” He continues to soothe, making sure his touch remains soft, in spite of how hard he grips onto you. Safety, no threat. You can leave at any point, and he’d thank you for it.

You turn further into him, and he takes it as an invitation to keep holding on. Face squished against his chest, wet with your fear. “But,” you sob, and he’s patient. He waits for you to cry some more before speaking. “But I didn’t, I was too scared to do even that, and—”

He lovingly hushes you, pressing a kiss to the top of your bed head of hair. “You’re talking now, that’s all that matters I think.”

This, at least, soothes you enjoy to simply sob. Right against him, seeking comfort from him despite your past and your issues, and he’s never felt so proud of you before— truly! To have the strength to speak up, and to seek help, even if it took some little pushing. You got there. You managed to work up the courage. You were able to articulate your boundaries for him to respect. You’re so strong, baby. Much stronger than he’ll ever be, he thinks to himself.

Ah, but he wishes you needn’t have to be so strong…

If he could, he’d make sure you never had to worry again. If only he knew you a few years ago, God, he’s sick with it, honestly. With the want to protect you from the past, sorries spilling from his fingertips as the rake lightly down your back, providing shivers of promise. I wish I could have helped, so that you may not need help now. He loves you, almost as if he were trying to make up for lost time.

You’re here now, he reminds himself. Safe in bed with him, with no expectations surrounding you. Surely, that’s what matters most.

“I love you.” He whispers above your head. Intended solely to soothe his own aching, bleeding heart, but he’s happy to hear you repeat it back to him through sniffles and coughs.

And hidden behind his words is: I’d do anything for you. Yes, even that.

His eyes close with contentedness as you start to calm down in his arms, body relaxing in his hold enough for him, too, to loosen his grip. See, you’re in control, always. He’s happy to simply follow suit.

“Every part of you, I mean,” he yawns with the night, though he’s more than determined to stay awake for as long as you may need. Whatever you require, he loves you like a dog. “Even this. Especially this,” his body buries deeper into the sheets with you in tow, tugged under to get comfortable together for the (hopefully) long night. You deserve a good rest. “Thank you fr’trustin’ me.”

So beyond enamored with you, even nights like these are a genuine pleasure to endure with you. So long as he has you, and you’re willing to allow him to help, he’ll be there. Happily. Lovingly. You take a moment to reply, inhaling and exhaling heavily as if to calm your nerves. And he suddenly thinks to himself— he’s so lucky.

“I’m sorry, Alex… I really wanted to continue.”

Sometimes, it helps to say the same thing over and over again, right? Like repeating yourself slowly puts the puzzle together, piece by piece, per each repetition. It’s okay, he doesn’t mind reassuring you to the ends of the Earth and time itself if he has to.

But as per his life mission statement: “Your comfort is the most important thing to me. There’ll be other nights. Jus’ wanna cuddle t’night, s’at okay?”

“… Please.” You nod, but he can hear the smile in your words, too.

[kurtwagnermorelikekurtwagnerd]

sickens me to my stomach. how dare this guy get to live my dream.

[neetily]

I JUST HAD AN IDEA FOR A SUPER YUMMY SCENE!! IMAGINE ALEX AND HALEY CORRUPTING PENNY TOGETHER ❤️

the dasterdly duo....... the dream team...... the jock and the bimbo.........

them both having a wee crush on penny... and by wee, i mean massive!!! pining over the shy little book nerd who sits by herself in corners, huddled and giggle to each other over what they'd like to do to her, how they'd like to taste her, make her feel so good that she comes out of her shell just a little bit. there's something so attractive to them about corrupting her, making her just as dirty as their thoughts are about her.

and i imagine they'd be competitive about it too.

haley with her face shoved between pennys legs, tongue flat against her slit with a cheeky smile on her lips. promise to make you feel so good, she'd whisper against her thigh, pressing her tongue against the cute little pure clit before her.

and alex, behind and/or under her, cock twitching against her cunt with the threat of entering, rubbing eagerly against her tight little hole with promise. i'll make you feel even better, don't worry.

their little rivalry shining through in how hard and fast they fuck her, how they tug and tease on her nipples, taking momentary breaks in their competition to instead suck on her tongue, praise her for how good she's being, such a good girl, look at you, you're so pretty, don't you feel so good? all in an effort to break her in to their lewd touch and love.

because for as much as they're eager to come out on top, they also work so well together too, don't they?

[neetily]

hi neet! i’d love to see how you would write a sam/seb/fem!farmer kidnapping story 🫶🏼 she just kept leading them on, y’know? she was just asking for it!

love a good sambastian duo x

warning: kidnapping, noncon/rape, creampie, restraints, gag wc: 2,617

Never in the many dreams he's spent restless nights alone with only the thought of you to keep him company did he ever imagine that you'd look so nice draped in silver.

It's chunky. Maybe a little too big for your size, but pretty nonetheless, he assures you! Shining nicely under the dull light of Sebastians basement bedroom, and the glittering that sparkles under your soft squirming around pairs nicely with the attire he found you in tonight— that being of your barely there to begin with pyjamas. Short shorts and simple top, breezy in the mooonlight, an invitation, right?

The frantic clink! of the chains wrapped around, well... Pretty much every part that they can wrap around—your neck, your ankles, your wrists—the sound of your squirming gets him excited. Makes him feel powerful, a sickening joy settling thickly in his stomach at the sight of your new jewellery. And the desperate pleas spoken in metal drags him out of his self indulgent thoughts to instead bear witness to how well you wear fear as Sebastian tugs playfully at those very same shorts.

It's a pity Sam can't hear your likely pretty begging and whining behind the makeshift gag adorning you. Can't listen to how nicely you'd sob stop. Can't have you asking for help, can he?

"You should go first," Sebastian mutters, though Sam can quite clearly hear the smirk in his words. Like an excited child, the act of peeling your shorts and panties from your goose bumped skin looks similar to a child opening their Christmas presents. "You put in most of the work securing her, it's only fair."

They'd spoken about who should go first countless times, y'know. Because you're so special to them, even if they talk about you like you're not even there. A mere object, right? Spent hours mulling it over to be honest, going back and forth on several different points. Like who loves you more. Or who's wanted you for longer. Or, more immaturely, who's older. And though Sam is more than happy to be the first to touch you tonight, already hard before getting a mere glimpse of your puffy pretty pussy, he figures he's got a better idea for how tonight should pan out.

You can thank the expression of dread you greet him with for that— it's soooo cute. Turns him on so much, y'know...

And it's not his fault that he finds you attractive, right? You should feel happy, thankful, that his cock is rock hard and pointing directly towards you right now. He just wants to keep you looking so pretty. Fuckin' hot when you stare up at him with those big doe eyes, body trembling under his watchful eye, begging without having the words for it. You should keep looking at him like that— it only turns him on further.

And that's the sole reason for his change of plans. To keep you scared. Keep you soft and pliable and fucking scared.

"Nah," he sighs, almost idly if not for the way his hooded lids remain trained on you. "We should go together I think. Have fun at the same time."

"Y'don't gotta tell me twice." Sebastian hums back at him, taking advantage of your captivity by digging his nails into your flimsy pyjama top, and tearing it right down the middle. Sam would like to say that they'll get you a new one, but after a sharp suck of air at the sight of your exposed chest, he's not so sure about that.

The panicked, though muffled behind the poor gag, sob you let out only earns some barked laughter from Sam, who kindly explains the situation you've now found yourself in.

"Couldn't rightly take it off nicely, could we? Not with those chains in the way..." He pouts, adopting a tone one would when telling off a child. Complete with a waggle of his finger. Like he's toying with you. Like he's having fun tormenting you. "S'the only way to do it m'afraid."

"It's okay," Sebastian quickly reassures you, though Sam is just as quick to pick up on the true mocking tone underlying his gentle petting over your now exposed tummy, and the slight tut to his words from looking down at you. "We can play nice from now on. Promise."

Maybe you can, Sam thinks to himself. But he, on the other hand, is practically ready to burst from the sight of your heaving chest, quick fast paced breaths that give your true feelings of terror away from just a quick glance. The shaky closing of your legs as if doing so would somehow keep your dignity intact. And it's exciting, like hunter and prey. Except he's already captured you, and he intends on enjoying his reward to the fullest extent— starting with drooling over your pretty tits.

So cute, especially with your laboured breathing. Bouncing a little with your fear, and oh, so, kissable. A shared thought, no doubt, given how Sebastian seems to immediately latch onto a nipple. Eager to show you his held back affections— though perhaps a little too eager, shown in the way your back arches in an attempt to get away from his sharp teeth and rough claws that paw and pad at your unattended tit.

Well, Sam thinks. Time for his reward.

You've got no idea just how long he's been waiting for this, really. Him and Seb, plotting together like two thieves in the night, intent on stealing you away. And more importantly, your innocence. Your sense of safety, turning you into nothing but an object for them to love— which is what you are, right? A pretty little thing, writhing under Sebastians lewd touch, wide eyes begging for Sam to do something, literally anything to help.

You're lucky that he loves you so much, because he knows just the thing to help.

The floor isn't the place you deserve to be fucked, but it'll have to do for tonight. You'll learn to love it regardless, maybe even gain enough courage to ask for better treatment eventually. But he doesn't mind helping you along that way in the meantime, ignoring the way tears well in your eyes at the sight of him unzipping and pulling his pants down, because if he stares for too long at your spilling tears then he's sure to bust a load before even getting the chance to prove himself to you. Tugging his pants and boxers down just enough to have his cock spring free, the tip slapping back against his toned tummy with a soft thud, leaving behind a string of precum as another beads to the surface.

"Leave some for me." Sam laughs at Sebastian, though he nonetheless bites down on his bottom lip as he catches sight of the way Seb palms at his fat bulge hidden under his tight pants, getting off merely to pleasing you.

Sam understands. Intrinsically. Intuitively. They're the same. And by that, he means greedy, perverted to the bone.

And he's got one just for you, baby. Rock hard and throbbing at the sight of your tear stained cheeks, bobbing along with his movements as he crawls closer towards you, hovering right above your puffy cunt as Seb makes room for him with a pop! off of your pretty nipple.

All it takes is a look. A shared delusion, spurred on by how desperately you attempt to escape your chains. Which, of course, you know is impossible. So the only other reasonable explanation for your squirming must be that you're aiming to turn them on more, right? Looking to rile them up, of which you're doing so so expertly, prompting Sam into sighing with horny frustration as he lines himself up to your wanting hole, tugging your legs open further far too roughly if your high pitched squeal is anything to go by.

"Keep cryin'," he huffs, clearly excited by the broken sounds he rips out of you. "Yer only gittin' me harder, baby..."

With the faux pout of his words, he hopes to communicate just how much he adores your sweet sobs. Especially as he rubs the tip of his leaking tip up and down your sopping slit— your body gives you away, poor thing... All that teasing Sebastian was doing must have prepared you well, huh?

"C'mon," Sebastian goads him, rushed breaths and all. "Take it, take her, she's practically beggin' fr'it."

Sam always knows when Sebastian is really into it, the slur of his accent showing is tell tale enough. As if the hidden bulge his friend sports isn't evidence enough.

But it's with this prompting, the enticing offer to give you exactly what you're wanting, that he finally gives in to his selfish desires. The ones he's been holding close to his heart, and even closer to his cock, pretty much since you moved into the valley. Sebastian too, he's sure. And he did want to fuck you as a duo, but you've got him feeling so selfish baby... Cause it's his cock that he wags against your hole, teasing your entrance with rushed breaths and cocky tuts. It's his cock that he dips the tip into your wet little hole, his hips instinctively bucking at the immediate warm heat that envelops him. It's his hips that push deeper, further into your little sopping slit with tense huffs and sighs. Tense arms too that hold him upright, lest he falls right on top of you as a full body shudder runs through him at just how tight and perfect you feel.

He immediately wants to fuck his shape into you.

And he barely gives you enough time to grow accustomed to the sudden intrusion before he's already fucking it in and out of you— fully intending on a slow pace to help ease you into it, but the way your hole so eagerly squeezes around his fat cock upon burying himself balls deep has him weak in the knees, makes his hips buck at a too fast pace for him to settle into, in spite of your whining. Perhaps because if your whining, if he's being more honest with himself.

"Oh, fuck—" he shivers above you, doing his best to take in the sight of your scrunched up face— pain or pleasure, he's not sure. And he doesn't really care either, to be honest. "Tight— tightest fuckin' hole, God—" his tone is pitchy himself, whines out from his closing throat as he endures the nice suck of your hole, plapping against you as his balls smack back against your ass with every greedy thrust.

"She good?" Sebastian asks, as if it's not fucking obvious. But Sam is too busy rutting away inside of your pretty captured pussy to do anything but dumbly answer back with a quick yeah, yeah, yeah. Mind numb thanks to how well you take his cock, hynoptised by the sight of your pretty tits bouncing in time with his fucks. You're perfect, you're perfect, you're so fucking perfect— Like you were made to take his cock, confirming that he and Sebastian made the right choice in stealing you away tonight.

And other nights, because is he fuck letting this tight cunt go any time soon. And once Sebastian has his turn, he's certain that he'll agree with this assertion. If he ever gets a shot of you that is, because shit, if you aren't half convincing him to keep you all to himself tonight.

Little cunt sucking him off so well, yeah? Tight with fear, squeezing his fat cock just right, good enough to leave him gasping for air above you. A little drooly too, salivating over the sight of you trying your hardest to play hard to get. With eyes tightly squeezed shut every time he buries himself balls deep into you, bullying his tip against your squishy walls like they were his to own. And at least for tonight, for right now, they are. How could you not be? Given the way you dribble saliva for Seb to lick up too, spotted from a mile away under the dim shine from the failing cieling light, a sudden jolt of pleasure coiling in his tummy when Sebastian takes to slobbering all over your face in response. Kisses, maybe, but it looks more like he's trying to eat you alive. Leave his mark on your somehow, somewhere, with fat drops of tears only adding to his friends salty pleasure.

"Don't— haah," God, the sound of your squelching cunt leaves him more than a little breathless, the muted whines and cries you crack out are so cute too, like you're struggling to breathe. You'd look even cuter actually choking, he bets. "Don't hear y'askin' for us t'stop, huh?" He mocks you from above, matching his harsh words with even meaner thrusts, inevitably fucking you up the cold hard wood floorboards from how greedy he is to feel good.

"S'right..." Sebastian coos against your sticky cheek, though nonetheless eyes up your sticky cunt too. Coated in Sam's precum, your own slick just gushing out of you with every fuck to give away how you truly feel about their assault tonight. Drooling all over his cock, yeah? Mindlessly babbling and sobbing to yourself as if that isn't the hottest thing either of them have ever fucking seen. "Almost as if... You want this, right? Want us t'be a little rougher, baby? D'ya like it when Sammy fucks you? Feels good, huh? Bet you—"

It doesn't matter what Sebastian is yapping about, because Sam catches you feebly trying to shake your head no, God, no, and he can feel himself grow infinitely closer to the sight alone. Nevermind the fact that Sebastian is knowingly turning Sam on just as much as he's attempting to make you wetter, and it's fucking working. The thought of filling you up faster, harder, humping your tight little hole silly all night long, until he's nothing but a mess of fluids and you're left dumb on the end of his cock, the thought of it all has his balls tight and his tummy flipping. Filling with butterflies of desire as he pounds your shape into the floorboards below with so much speed and force that he can barely keep up with himse. He's never been the best at holding himself back... Or accountable, really.

Which is why he makes no effort in pulling out of your perfect little angel cunt as soon as he feels himself tipping over the edge. Nor does he warn you, really, save for a slight stutter in his imprecise thrusts as he seeks only his own end for now.

There's plenty time to look after you later, right?

A brief fuck escapes him as thick ropes of sticky seed paint your insides white, tacky and fucked in and out of you with lazy thrusts as he milks himself fully into your pretty pussy— and the way you continue to squeeze around him? God, he never wants to leave. Making sure to push his hips flush against your ass and thighs as if attempting to plug your hole full of his cum, better not let any of it go to waste! Or he might just need to fuck another load into you, yeah?

And he's barely got time to catch his breath from abusing you before Sebastian is tugging him off and out, a silly whine escaping Sam at the loss of heat and tightness as his cock pops! out of you.

"S'my turn," Sebastian slurs with as much restraint as his sly smirk gives away. "The look on your face, Sam— gotta feel her fr'myself."

Whether you like it or not.

[sashiavi]

SashiAvi's 2k Follower Prompt Event #2 - CatHybrid!Sebastian - Begging & Cunnilingus

Warnings : 18+ Smut | Cat Hybrid Sebastian - Kemonomimi Ears & Tails | Mentions of ruts, heats and other animal/hybrid tendencies | AFAB Reader | Power Switch | Domish to Sub Reader | Begging | Oral | Dirty Talk | Sebastian has a rough tongue <3 | Word Count : 3.6k

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It starts with a nudge to your knee. A scruffy head of dark hair rubbing an affectionate push against your skin, soft feline ears flattening with the nuzzling movement.

A beat skips. Only a huff cutting through the air as another bullying head bump presses further, now a nose adding to the mix as your pushy cat boyfriend attempts a nip to your inner thigh. His cool eyes silently glare up at you, a pout pursed into his expression, fangs pressing a subtle intent into the plumpy plushness of the skin.

"Yes?" You acknowledge him, turning your attention away from your phone screen, a hand coming down to scritch and massage into his ears. Despite the rumbly-soft purrs that bubble up his throat, Sebastian keeps the tight squint of his eyes on you. His tail flicks behind him, a swift swish curling right at the tip, a rhythmic little movement.

He doesn't verbally reply to your question, instead opting to nose further against the inner of your thigh, lips pressing a warm kiss into the skin before he stops short and looks up at you again. A silent plea shining a glitter in his eyes, glinting against the cool grey-blue of his iris. His hand brushes up from your knee, smoothing his palm over your tender-soft and sensitive skin, giving a gentle squeezing grope. A wave of warmth bubbles from your chest, the intentions of your needy cat-like boyfriend clear in the air.

You give a sly side-glance, petting his ears, forcing them to plane down with each brush of your fingers, your legs carefully readjusting into a more modest position.

"What's up, Baby?" You try again, feigning innocence, playing dumb at Sebastian's quiet advances - He had a voice, and you think he could use it more often.

"Mrmmm.." Sebastian trills sound, face morphing into a pouty frown, cheek squishing as he presses his face against your hip- Your legs now properly closed, hindering his advances. His arms wrap around the thick of your bent legs, around the muscle of your thighs, snaking his fingers between them in a careful attempt of prying into the warm squish of flesh. You look at him expectantly, unmoving and unwilling to budge on the matter, waiting for Sebastian's words- Despite the subtle throb between your legs aching at all the ideas of what he could possibly want with you.

"Please.." It's all you get- Barely even phrased as a question, the statement layed out from his tongue with another nip of his teeth. His tail swished side to side, pupils blowing darker with excitement- some monologue running in his brain making him react in such a way.

"Please what? I can't understand you~" Your voice sings, a playful and scruffy pat to his hair coming next, messing up the fur of his ears. Sebastian scowls, more purrs rumbling from his chest, his touch becoming handsy - Gropey and squeezy, a gentle attempt to pry your thighs open. "You have to properly ask, y'know." You both knew he didn't actually- You being more than happy to let him take to you any other time; Fingers stuffing under the fine grip of your shorts waistband, bending at the hip over the Saloon pool table so his greedy cock could slide between your thighs- Heck, even the quick bouncy ride on his lap while Sam ran off to the bathroom during a session of Solarian Chronicles.

But this was fun, you were having fun. Teasing him, urging him to ask and plead- Yoba to beg, even.

"You smell nice.." His words are vague, actions telling you more than what he was dropping. Nice - A simple descriptor, sweet even, if it weren't for the way his nose presses against your skin, nuzzling in an attempt to get closer between your legs.

"Do I?" You tease, a hand coming to carefully scratch under his chin, fingers curling as if you were petting a real Kitten, yet instead of soft fur, you're met with the barest grain of his shaved face on his otherwise smooth and clear skin. It still earns you a tilt to his head, his melty reaction making your heart feel oozy with gooey affection. "How nice?" You were probably playing a dangerous game, poking back at Sebastian with a smugness stuck to your tone, prompting him with your teasing.

"So fucking nice.." He breaks a little with that hot taint of profanity, ears twitching, fingers groping a squeeze into your flesh. His tail swished with his words, flicking a rigid motion before its back to that lazy sway. “God- Gonna make me spell it out?”

“Hmmn.. I just think it’d be cute if you begged.” You bite into your lip, a feeble attempt at stifling your teasy smile.

He bristles at that, hairs standing on their ends, the fur of his tail and ears puffing up as a shiver surely crackles down his body. A sigh leaves his lips, breath trickling out until it forms into a soft pur, his head tilting up at you with a dazzly sweetness in his eyes-

-

“Please- Fuck.. hahh... Seb- Baby, please-!” Your own sobby pleads tumble from your throat, lips stuck in a perpetual frown, fingers tangled through Sebastian’s murky black hair as his tongue attacks the bud of your clit.

Sebastian's ears twitch with a mock flick of annoyance before he's coming up for air, sinking the dagger point of his canines right into the sensitive tendon connecting your thigh to your drooly cunt. You can’t help the whimpery noise that keens up from your throat, a high and shaky sound, stuttered and long as you breathe out. The hybrid dares to purr, nuzzling his nose into your bare skin as he marks you up, suckling a hot bruise, breaking those delicate blood vessels into a stingy bloom of a mark.

His pink tongue peeks out to soothe the area with licks - like it does much; the roughness of his tongue born up from his secondary feline species making your body tense with a sickly sweet sting, his lapping reminiscent of a milk-starved Kitten. Yoba, don't even start on the bar lodged in the flesh of the muscle, the metallic ball of a tongue piercing shining a soft glint in the low-light. Bites turn to licks, nibbling suckles agitated more with the grate of his kitten tongue, paired with those deep, sharp eyes of his, angled up to look at you with a glint of cockiness. 

“Sebbyyyy..” You give a whine, already missing the hot warmth of his lips wrapped around your clit, all cold and twitchy as he hums back at you, mocking a sobby noise of complaint as he sinks his teeth into the ever so sensitive skin of your inner thigh, leading away from where you needed him. He calls your name back to you, all muffled and slobbery, mimicking your drawn out cry before he suckles another mark - Pinchy, stingy, only making your poor pussy drool more of a mess. “Y-You’re mean.. Come backkk-” You whine at him, lips pouty when he shakes his head ‘No’, popping off of the fat of your thigh to admire the bruise he'd suckled into your skin. “Why?” You give a bratty huff, just wanting to feel the passions of Sebastian's tongue, how eager he was minutes before, rubbing up against you with his purring and nuzzles.

“I just think it’d be cute if you begged” He parroted that same sentence that had started it all, once spouted so cockily from your own now trembly, wobbly lips. The bar in his tongue knocks against his teeth as he plays and fiddles with it, those canines pointed with the beginnings of a cat-like grin, completely amused with his teasing. You sniffle a pout, fingers curling to give a tug to Sebastian's hair, pulling at his delicate ears, making his tail twitch and puff with a shudder. Another nip, one meaner and laced with a warning; “Words, Princess.” Another sharp flick of his eyes, hypocrisy dripping off of him, as if he hadn’t wordlessly poked at prodded around you to get you like this.

“I..” You breathe a frustrated sigh, a prick of tears starting to sting right at the inner corners of your eyes. You gasp into a swallow, a permanent pout tugging at your lips, “-Can’t think of words..”

“Nawh..” You know the sound is something completely faux, the tut of Sebastian’s tongue kissing his teeth just another mean thing to add on to the pile. He presses a warm kiss to the bloomed up hickey he’d bitten into your thigh, dragging his lips over the tender spot before he speaks, “Guess you should find some words then, hm?” His tail flicks, eyes flicking to a sickening slit before they bloom into those blown out, kitten-sweet excitable pupils.

You’re sure you’re one more tease away from a genuine sob; Something pitiful and entitled, so tired of Sebastian giving you a taste of your own medicine. God, you should give in- Plead and beg with the meany between your legs, play sweet and nice and ah! Another sink of his pointy teeth in your flesh, making you squirm and frown, molars digging into the inside of your cheek with frustration- 

“Please-” Your cry is short and wincy, “I need you, Sebby..” You baby at him, voice pitched higher as your pleadings begin.

An eyebrow raises, a soothing yet spiky lick lapped over the skin of your thighs, edging just a smidgen closer to your core. He hums a long ‘Mmhmm?’ of acknowledgement, urging you on with a slight grin twitching at his lips. 

“Really want you.. Need you back…” You glance down, biting into your bottom lip.

You’d at least earned something with the sweet tone of your begs - It was a start, Sebastian licking a fat, performative stripe up your cunt, gathering the creamed up slick that weeped from your hole. The action was near pornographic; Pretty and pink, covered in slick, that metal ball of his piercing coated and glinting with a sick mix of spit and cream - God, you twitch against him, clit jumping as the grate of his tongue brushes over the neglected bud, your fluttery entrance joining in, throbbing with a stingy pulse of arousal. His eyes are on you, behind thick lashes and his dark brow, those fangs of his glinting as they just poke from behind his upper lip. It was a taste; For both you and him, a teasing ease of what was to come and a milk-sweet treat he could savour as he smacks a kiss to your clit. 

He looks at you expectantly, those sharp pupils blown wide and black as his nose nuzzles at your mound, ghosts of his breath brushing warm kisses against your poor pussy. Your breath hitches right at the back of your throat, hiccuped a spike of adrenaline thrumming through your arteries, your lips dare to wobble, mouthing around the syllables of his name in a pitiful little “Sebby..”

“Hmnn?” He sounds almost nonchalant, as if he were completely unaware of the effects he had on you, playing into something cool and collective- Mean, that's what he is, a big meany messing with you, threading the beads of your desperation through threads of arousal that had your thighs twitching a flexing fidget. 

“Fuck- Sebby, please.. I need you, need you so bad I’m-” The pointed look he gives you tells you, you’re not quite close enough. Specifics were what he was after. 

Humiliation twists in your tummy as you string out a pathetic whine of pleas; “Need you b-back on my..” Your cheeks flush hot, unable to properly get your mouth around the dirty words he wanted you to speak - “Don’t wanna say it..”

“Nawhh.. But… You have to if you want me to eat you out, Silly.” His words roll off of his tongue easily, a scrunch to his nose and a twitching grin pulling at his lips as they speak against your warm skin. His tail sways behind him, cheeky and amused, a tell-tale sign that he was finding enjoyment out of all of this.

You try again.

“Please- Use your tongue on me.. ‘Wanna feel good- Tease me n’ make me all needy n’ squirmy I don't care-!” You suck in a breath, exhaling with a wobbly frown, “Just want your mouth- Mouth n’ fingers and whatever you wanna do t’me..-” You hum a long sound, all sweet and frustrated.

Ahh, Third times the charm, right?

“Sebby.. P-Please eat me out-” It burns to say it out loud. “I just- I need your tongue on my clit..” You can’t help the internal cringe, a tight squeeze vice-like and shuddery, something coursing a dangerous chemical of embarrassment-turned-arousal, sending a flinch to your dribbly pussy. “See? Need you.. Want your mouth on my c-cunt..” You’d surely lost it, that last ounce of sensibility that rested in your gut, forgotten with the way you part your legs wider, biting your teeth into one of your fingers to ease the nerves, your free hand coming down your tummy to barely brush above your heat, as if to direct Sebastian right where you wanted him.

Finally, he seemed satisfied, ears perking up on his head, through the moppy strands of sable-black swept hair, a pur rumbling from the depths of his throat before he gave you what you needed. He was practically pouncing on to your pussy, with his palms against your thighs going in for the attack – Once crescent eyes blown wide and ink-jet black, tail swishing in absolute satisfaction – That rough tongue of his laps messily against your folds, purposeful in movement, thrashing meanly against your clit-!

“Ahhn- Hahh, Seb-!” You can only cry out, muffled by your fingers as you hide your face, finding comfort in your knuckles pressed against your frowning lips. Your eyes flutter closed, a crease forming between your brows, a tight-knit scrunch of pleasure washing over your face accompanied by the hot sting of a blush flushing against your cheeks and over the bridge of your nose. Sebastian huffs a sloppy chuckle against your core, breath sucked back in with a slurpy lick through your folds.

“Hmnph.. C’mere-” Sebastian’s voice muffles, a grumble to his timbre that wasn’t truly something of frustration – Completely laced up with a mockingly hot purr of endearment. The comfort of your hands are yanked away, fingers threading through his own, all long and grabbable- Perfectly moulded to engulf and grab, urging your fingers to brush strands of hair up and out of the way of his eyes, of his tongue, showing off the bridge of his nose and thick, dark brows behind the mound of your cunt as he laps and feasts. Your fingers twitch a pull, tight against the roots of his hair, making the man let out another low purr, “S’ better- Hmmnh?” His tongue cuts up his words, lulling through his speech pattern as his affections continue. Ahh, you could see him now, relish in the view of him between your legs, strands of hair escaping your fingers to lace over his forehead, those sharp eyes right on you.

He lets the bead of his tongue stud jab into your clit, swirling around and around hoping that little metal ball glints with the light, sparkles with the mix of his saliva and the addicting juices of your cunt. His fingers massage and sink into your thighs, giving little stingy nail-tainted squishes as a reminder to Keep. Watching.

Watch the flutter of his tongue and nipping suckles he makes into your clit, look into that subtle swirl of blue in his eyes as he laps a long, strong lick on your cunt right before he musters up a hot glob of saliva to spit onto the twitchy bud of your clit. All bubbly and thick on his tongue as he lapped it right back up before you could start whining up your complaints again. You had begged enough for him, right? Spilled those filthy wants and desires out for him, dealing with the residual ache in your chest, all flushed from embarrassment – Fuck, could you even breathe? With that constant string of breathy whines that fall from your lips as his tongue abuses your cunt, thrashing and jamming meanly while those pointed canines carefully sink into your flesh as he suckles a mess.

He was practically making out with your pussy – Tongue filled kisses all swirly on your clit, venturing further to sink into the supple clench of your hole, feeling each and every twitch on his tongue and flex of your bud against his nose. He looked a mess – Spit and cream dribbling down his chin, smeared up on his nose, lips pursed and plump with use, face surely sticky with your essence- Ohh, but he didn't seem to care. Sebastian relished in your sticky-sweetness, indulging in your pretty scent, happy to make a mess of himself if it meant you were whining, tugging on his hair and petting at his ears, praising and hiccuping begs of “Don’t stop don’t stop-!” Fueling up his ego as he shakes his head against your cunt in indulgence. 

How could he stop now? Fucking the fat of his tongue against your weepy hole, lapping up all the cream you drooled up for him - All wet and mushy, the press of his tongue against your cunt earning up a string of slick and clicky noises, hot spit he can’t help but salivate up adding to the mess between your legs. His licks are rough, spiky in pleasure, moulded around the smooth relief of his piercing, the repetitive sensation bringing you closer and closer, nearer to the threat of your release, and he hadn’t even begun the abuse of his fingers-

It's easy to jam two deft fingers into your cunt with how dribbly-drooly you were for him, sweetly creamy like milk pooling around his knuckles, combined with his bubbly spit to make a filthy mess. Your fingers card through his hair to gain a new fistful of something to ground you, tugging the sensitive strands that laid by his silky ears, the fur tickling up against your wrist. Sebastian’s precision was a deadly thing – Knowing exactly where to curl the pads of his digits, hitting that sweetly spongy spot inside of you that had your hips craning, arching to meet with the suckle of his lips and the slow, fucking curls he makes in your cunt.

Your sweetness wraps around him, the ring of your stuffed hole twitching kisses against his knuckles, taught and squeezy with every fuck he makes. It only makes you dribble more for him, squelchy and wet, more of a mess for his tongue to mop up with a loud and obnoxious lapping suckle.

“Sebby- Seb, Seb- R-Right there- right there rightthereplease-!” You have to gasp to catch your breath, feeling the quick build of your threatening orgasm. Sebastian moans, his hot breath and warm purring doing wonders for your arousal. His eyes catch yours, seemingly just as desperate as you were, looking like a milk-drunk kitten who’d nearly had his filling, greedily smushing his face into your cunt, the tip of his nose crunching with the motion, fingers squelching in your wetness with a newfound fever.

“Ohhh~ M’cummin- cummingcummingcumming-! Seb, ohmygod!” You don't mean to slur your words but God-! Sebastian was just too good. 

Your hands clench in his hair, tugging the strands right at his scalp, thighs jerking with an aching hard twitch, snapping Sebastian into a snuggly trap as you finally let go. You squeeze on his fingers, pussy fluttering quick pulses as you cum, clit jumping against his tongue while he drags out his licks, coaxing you through the hot brunt of it all. Fuck, you makes a mess – A pretty and wet orgasm gushing against his rough tongue, enough to bring up a prick of tears at the corner of your eyes, accompanied by a silent plea barely piping up from your throat. Sebastian’s free hand soothes the outside of your thigh, carefully bending your leg at the knee to free himself all while he peppers sweetly soft kisses against the wet of your cunt.

“Hahh..S-Seb-” You mouth a silence swear, voice whining in your throat as he keeps playing even through your high – Milky-wet kisses pressed into your twitchy core, a string of dribble and slick connecting his plump and pinkish lips to your folds, that rough tongue of his licking up the mess, the ball of his piercing glinting as he licks his lips clean. The man chuckles soft, hearts in his eyes as he looks up at you, more and more of those teasy sweet kisses landing around; To your mound, inner thigh, that sensitive tendon he’d bitten mean kisses into, right against the soft of your tummy. He was nuzzling like a cat, tail swaying in a happy manner, ears folding around the clumsy pats you make to them, hums purring up his throat as he slinkily climbs up.

The rough denim of his dark-washed jeans presses against your wetness, surely forming a decent patch of slick and spit into the fabric, your breath hitches, chin tilting up as Sebastian nuzzles his nose right below your ear;

“Beg for more?” You shiver, and he huffs a breathy chuckle. 

Who were you to deny him?

•··········•··········˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖··········•··········• Number 2 for my prompt event ^^ I struggle a bit with Sebby, I hope my next ones come out way sooner!!

I'd love to know if you enjoyed! Reblogs, comments and asks are an amazing motivator ! Thank you so much for reading <33 •Property Of sashiavi - writing & banners created by me

[neetily]

not sure if i'll meet the request deadlines buuuut but. stoner big brother whitney... i think that it'd be sooo hot if his little sister expressed interest in smoking weed but he insisted it would only be with him. anddd he holds them in their lap for them to smoke his joint or from his bong and lets them get wayyy too high and then they get frisky. idk i listened to an audio on reddit abt this once and it has ruined my mind since i will never not think of whitney when i think of lowkey predatory stoner brother

this one was so much fun ough... i really like the direction it went, and would love to write more about this or a continuation or something at some point :D... tysm for your patience!

warning: incest, drug use, dry humping. wc: 2,647

His bedroom is hot.

Hot already from the setting sun that filters through his drawn curtains, leaving an orange hue to glow from the windows, across his admittedly messy with clothing floor, and finally setting upon your chubby cheeks in a way he'd almost describe as pretty.

Which must mean that he's pretty high himself, he scoffs internally.

Its not just the low sun that has him heated though, because the weight and the warmth from having you perched so politely upon his lap is also causing his cheeks to flush. Hopefully hidden by the puff of smoke he blows in your direction, stinking of green and clouding you from his view briefly— a welcome break from the otherwise gorgeous view curiously tilting her head towards him.

He appreciates the sight of your genuine wonder for a moment or two, perhaps a second too long given who he is and known to be. Far too doting in his expression, but also far too relaxed to give a shit about it at the moment. His reactions are lagged thanks to the drug coursing through him, and he bets you can pick up on the strength of it too due to how kind his smile is when he coos back at you, as opposed to the usual scowl he so often regards you with.

Once or twice, he pats your thigh absently, peeking dow at the sliver of skin you've got revealed under your quite frankly barely there to begin with skirt. It's cute, he thinks to himself. Thought as much when you were getting ready for school, too. You suit it well, he continues to himself, toying with the fabric of it idly as he takes another lazy puff from the joint between his marked fingers— they never tell you that your skin will be permenantly stained when you first start smoking. A tinge of yellow on the inside, an exhale of green from his lungs as he aims the smoke away from you this time, though you no doubt end up inhaling a bit yourself anyway.

"You sure?" He mutters, mostly to himself. Eyeing you up and down with a heavy sigh as you eagerly nod bak towards him, clearly excited at the prospect of smoking with your older brother. You always did look up to him... Perhaps he should have been a better influence for you. "Have y'even smoked anything before?"

You take a moment to collect your thoughts, something about lying, maybe? But he appreciates the break nonetheless. Lets him appreciate just how pretty you are for a few extra seconds. "No, but I trust you. Trust big brother." You pout so prettily towards him, leaving him momentarily breathless in the face of your utter contentedness. It feels good to have your trust, though he isn't so sure that he's earned it. "You'll keep me safe, right?"

"Uh, yeah. Sure." He stumbles over his words, hoping to hide the heating of his cheeks from your view with a forced cough into his elbow. Because he can't let you know just how much you affect him, or something stupid like that.

Though, he's always thought you were pretty. Even before he had an inkling as to what that might have meant for him. But to have you perched so sweetly upon his lap, weight pressing down so close to his crotch, fuck— he thinks you might look prettiest here. Waiting. Begging, to an extent, for big brothers help. And, don't get him wrong, he knows that he shouldn't be feeling this way about you. Understands that the pit in his stomach is attempting to communicate as such with him, pleading for him to stop, she deserves better.

And yet still, you beg. And who is he to deny his soft, sweet, shy little sister anything she may desire?

"Just a little," You smirk at him, lopsided and cute. You know that he could never truly say no to you, and he hates just how much he loves being taken advantage of by you. "Just wanna see what it's like."

He doesn't blame your curiosity, drawing smoke from the joint once more with a lazy drag himself. It doesn't matter if he's explained the effects to you on more than one ocaasion, he was new to it once too. He understands why you wanna try it for yourself, and how nothing else will satiate that burning question in your stupid little sister mind.

So, with an exhale of smoke, emptying his lungs enough to prompt him into gasping for more air, he prods the offending item towards you. Lit end pointing him, the other hovering so close to your lips that he's left a little dizzy at the sight.

A soon to be indirect kiss.

"Here," He leans back with his words, resting against the chair in a more comfortable position given your added weight on top of him. Though, he inadvertently ends up jutting his growing bulge against your thigh, and if you noticed, he's thankful that you refuse to admit as such. "Y'wanna suck on this end, and hold your breath for a few seconds," His gaze flits up to your own eyes, fluttering lashes staring back down at him so attentively. Adoringly. "A-And once yer done, jus' blow it back out. S'easy, promise."

The stuttering is embarrassing, but you make it all worth it by oh so gently taking the joint from big brothers fingers to instead place in your own. Awkwardly, might he add, but it's endearing nonetheless. Something akin to watching his beloved baby sister grow, to take matters into her own hands right before his very eyes.

And that's so fucking attractive to him, fuck sake.

"Take is slow..." He warns you, biting down on his bottom lip to avoid spluttering out more nonsense like that's it, take it. Such a good girl, aren't you? Plagued by lewd thoughts as he hazily watches your plump maw open up to receive the drug. Slow just like he'd suggested— or is it demanded? He can't decide, his mind reeling at just how hard his cock twitches against his pants at the relatively tame sight before him.

Perhaps it's simply because its you, his little sister. His pride and joy. Following his instructions so well, relying on him to help guide you through your first time.

God, he hopes he can help you through your other first times too, if you have any left. You're so hot, he couldn't complain if he was late to the game.

"Okay," You assure him, no doubt steeling yourself for your first experience with weed. It's not so scary, his sweaty open palm rub lightly against your tacky thigh. Big brother is right here, his lazy grin communicates, nodding towards you as if giving permission for you to continue. "I'm gonna try now."

Good, he finds himself mouthing. Go on, let big brother take care of you, yeah? Sat so nicely on top of him, gently pressing against his eretion without a care in the world— he wouldn't be surprised if you're already a little high just from being in the room with him. Mind numb and senses dulled just nicely, right? Enough to let you fully enjoy your time with big brother without any distraction, his warm hand squeezing at your inner thigh as he watches you attempt your first inhale, and...

Of fucking course you end up in a coughing fit. Hacking it back up with inexperience for him to laugh at. Deep and genuine, enjoying the sight of your struggling just as much as he enjoys the sight of you pouting back at him: a wordless beg for some more help.

Don't worry, he's got just the thing for you.

"Gimmie it." he huffs at you, though he nontheless snatches the joint back before you have a chance to re-attempt smoking it incorrectly— he doesn't want you to cause any real damage to yourself.

"But Whitney—"

God, your whining is so hot right now. Complaining about the fact that he's only wanting to care for you the best way he can, as a typical little sister would.

"Shut up," he seethes. "Jus' wait a sec..."

See, big brothers always know best. They know how to lead, how to take control of situations. Especially when their bratty little sisters are involved, petulantly crawling up his lap to get closer to the joint he so carefully place between his lips again. And he'd complain about the way you're acting any other day, if not for the fact that your wriggling and squirming about is rubbing nicely on his fat hard cock, and that you don't seem to mind the hard length between your squishy fat thighs, as if it were to be expected. Like it was normal, just some shared sibling love, right?

It only embolds him some more.

After a quick inhale, sucking up as much of the drug as he can into his aching lungs, he grabs you by the scruff of your neck with his free hand like the little pup you are and he pushes you closer towards him. Until your nose bumps against his own and your lips part in a gasp and fuck, he can barely see you from how bleary and red his vision is, dizzy with desire, but he just knows that you must look so cute and confused right about now. Beause despite the amount of drug he's got soaked into his system tonight, he's still faster than you, you dumb little girl. Which means that it's so easy for him to press his open lips against your own the second he's got you right where he wants you, exhaling the smoke back down your own lungs to leave you burning on his lap. But he doesn't let you escape just because he's done— that'd be too easy.

No, his tongue pokes out too. Presses insistently against your own to swap saliva, his lips closing to seal the deal with a kiss before he gives you another. And another. And another. And, oh— his hand is slowly travelling down your back, finding home on your ass to prompt you into minor movement. Just a little, your back arching your pretty tits against his heaving chest, the feeling of your tongue gliding against his own in such a slow, lazy manner causing his hips to buck back up against you. And it feels so nice to have you exhale back against him, the stink of green taking over his senses in such a pleasant way when paired with your clothed cunt rubbing back and forth against his twitch bulge. So nice, in fact, that he drops the joint into the ashtray beside him (he hopes anyway, because is he fuck pulling away from your wanting mouth for even a fucking second to double check), and he cups your ass with both big brother hands. Manhandling you into the sweet and slow pace he'd like for himself, angling his hips against you so that you hump right against the tip of his leaking cock and God, he could cum just like this y'know. Panting with you, grasping onto you.

Could cum just by forcing his willing baby sister to grind her cute little cunt against his hidden cock. Humping each other so softly, so tenderly, as dictated by the weed in the air. And it's nice, passionate, even, given how eagerly you kiss him back. Tongue down his throat, his own collected spit dripping more saliva down your own to help ease the burn of smoke— and he's just so fucking hard. Rock solid under your weight, making sure to fuck his cock back against your clit as you settle into the sweet pace enough for his hands to instead rise to your lower back to pull you in tight, effectively trapping you against his chest for the foreseeable future, where you belong to be. It just feels so right, doesn't it? To be pressed against your big brother nice and snug like this, getting off using his cock like a toy.

He certainly thinks so.

And he doesn't need to breathe, he also thinks. So long as you keep making out with him, humming moans down his throat for his brows to furrow at, feeling how hard your heart beats against his own chest as he expertly humps and grinds back against you.

Compliments rest at the tip of his tongue for you, eyes squeezed shut in utter enjoyment for the way you circle your hips on top of your big brother, his arms tightening around your waist from how pretty you sound every time the chair squeaks under his grinding motions back. You did good relying on him to teach you, wordlessly picking up on the quicker pace because his hips demand you do, squishing your face against his own some more simply because he refuses to let you leave.

And he wonders if you're thinking about how it'd feel if he were actually fucking into you. About how his big brother cock would split you in two, humping that surely tight little hole silly— because he's sure as fuck thinking about it right about now. How he bets your pretty pussy is nice and tight, tightest he'd ever fuck, he bets. He's thinking about how warm and soft and gooey you'd be inside, wrapping him up so well that he'd never wanna leave. Could you imagine? Never letting big brother leave your tight little sister cunt, would you be happy about that, baby? To always have him buried balls deep in you to fuck whenever you want, all nice and warm and safe.

Don't stop, his tongue begs against your own, the wet smack of making out only has his cock throbbing even harder, trembling against his jeans that he hopes are providing a nice humping experience for you. That's it, good girl, his cock presses against you more insistently, compressed nice and tight against him that it's almost as if he's fucking against himself at this rate. Simulating sex with his baby sister is so sweet, feels so fucking good to be mindlessly rutting against each other, like a couple of instinctive animals in heat, right? Spurred on simply by the want to get off, whining down each others throats in the heat of the moment as he desperately clings onto you for stability.

You only get half way in warning him of how close you are before he's automatically shoving your face back against his own, needing just a little more tongue sucking and fervent kissing to get off himself too. The sudden change of pace from slow and sweet to needy and demanding comes so naturally to him, desperately humping your little sister cunt as if his life depended on it because you feel so so fucking good it's almost unfair— and he knows you're close anyway. Can feel the way your whole body shakes against his own, and how you sigh so nicely into his greedy kisses.

He's not long behind you, to be honest.

Both gasping for air— it's the only time he finally lets you free enough to catch your breath from his assaulting lips. His gaze instantly zeros in on the way your head gets thrown back with your orgasm, his hips stuttering against your slower humps like a man starved. And he can hardly care about the way his fat load shoots right against his clothing to leave them stained when this is the best fuck he's had all week, and he wasn't even inside of you..

Just high with his little sister.

Gross, he smiles at you when you eventually gain the courage to meet his gaze again.

"Wanna try again..." You bite your lip at him, and he doesn't have a good reaosn to say no, really.

[neetily]

feel free to ignore this if you don't take requests from your askbox but uhuhhmhuhm,,, always liked the idea of sam hooking up with a reader who's a higher up/representative from joja or something the appeal of a janitor w/ like, a rich office worker is just so funny to me hdawdhaiwu

i was surprisingly really into this when i started writing, so ty for helping me get out of my comfort zone!! it was a lot of fun x

warnings: power imbalance, worker/boss, semi public sex, masturbation, quicky wc: 1,949

The old staff room all the way at the back of JojaMart was always a little stuffy, ever since he gained employment, really. Dusty, with cobwebs hanging from every corner of the ceiling, long since forgotten about items for sale hidden in even older boxes— it really could use a good deep clean, Sam’s always thought. Not that he’s ever cared enough to do the cleaning himself, as he much prefers taking his breaks outside of the staff room, right around the back of JojaMart where no one else can see him, and where he feels like he can actually breathe in something other than rust and dust.

He thinks he might feel more inclined to clean it some more before you show up again, however.

The best he could offer you for the time being was the staff bathroom. Tucked away in a hidden corner of the break room where no one else should come to see. And besides, you’d told him to be quick, right? If he’d have been given just a little more time, he’d have cleaned the place up for you better. But the bathroom is the nicest place for now, he thinks. Has to be, otherwise he wouldn’t use it. Shane’s gotten on his back enough times already about keeping it as presentable as possible— rightly so.

But even in the clean(er) bathroom, he still finds himself struggling for air. Stretching over you to crack open the tiny little window at the top of the tiny little bathroom just a smidge more, gasping with the motion as he grows incessantly closer to you. He’d love to offer you something better, something that you deserve, but for now: this’ll do, right?

He doesn’t exactly hear you complaining about it, anyway. Not too much, spare for a few disparaging comments earlier, but those were aimed less at him and more at his immediate boss. Something about deducting points from the review given the state of the store? He wasn’t really listening, if he’s honest. Far too enamored by how tight your business attire was, and how pretty you sound when spouting judging reprimands. All tight lipped and disapproving— fuck, he can feel himself grow harder at just the thought, honestly.

From how easy it is for you to look down upon him, despite being shorter in reality. Demanding he tower over you, shield you from the grime and the dirt in his arms instead. He’s just doing what’s expected of him, right? Doing what you, the big boss, as Shane so affectionately calls you, want him to do.

It’s not his fault that that includes cupping your ass cheek, holding you up in the air with his other palm flat against the bathroom wall to stablise himself, hips pressed soooo tight and snug against your own… It’s not his fault, is it? After all, he’s just trying to give the store a good score. Just trying to help the big boss out, isn’t he?

“Faster, Sam—” you whisper shout down his ear, though it sounds louder than it should given how tight knit the bathroom really is— as small as legally possible, he bets. Your cheek presses against his own, arms wrapped nicely around his neck to let you dig your pretty nails into his back and God, you feel so fucking good. Unfairly so, really, given the nature of his position right now. So warm and tight, hot breath fanning against his warmer skin to leave him all dizzy and light headed, and shit, it’s so hard to breathe with the pace he’s already fucking into you with, never mind if he gives you more of what you want.

Though he so badly wants to, you must understand. More than anything, he wants to fuck you into next week. As fast as you want, as hard as he can. But you’re already so fucking wet, sopping all over his cock to leave a dripping mess of slick and pre to form a puddle under him—which he’ll have to clean up after you—and his balls are already slapping so sweetly back against you with every eager thrust that he’s afraid to go any faster. Worried that he might get you caught out in such a lewd situation, nervous about the fact that if he is caught with his pants literally down by his ankles, that he’ll never get to see you again.

And your little bossy cunt is squeezing his cock too good for him to let that happen.

“Can’t—” he gasps, quick and hiccuped, his breath hitching at the way your cunt sucks him off just a little tighter from hearing the utter desperation in his tone. And the way your tits bounce back against his heaving chest briefly catches his attention, leaving him momentarily dumb with just how good he feels. “Wanna,” he continues, punctuating his sheer need to give you everything you want and more with an unfair, tempting thrust. Giving in just a little, because he can’t help himself when it comes to you. But the resounding wet squelch of his fat cock stroking against your insides hard and fast is enough of an answer, though he always strives to be employee of the month. So he goes above and beyond to offer a proper explanation.

“See?” his hips stutter into you, faster still. Enough to leave you clawing at his back some more, his knees bending so that his cock humps right against your sweet spot, and he has to shove his shoulder against your open mouth just to shut your pretty whines up. Unfortunate, really. “Wanna go faster too, but, God, you—” there’s so much he wants to say. You might be the love of my life. You better give us a good score for this dicking down. You’re so fucking hot I could cum on the spot I bet. But he settles on a stuttered, and breathless, “You— y’need to be quiet, please—”

God how he’d love to listen to you moan and whine all day long, actually. Fill you up without the threat of getting caught— though isn’t this exciting too? Huddled over each other like two teens in heat, both his hands now placed firmly on your ass so that he can fuck you back down his cock just as much as he fucks up into it, determined not to let his balls slap against you too much lest he fucks too much noise out of ya, but he inevitably gives in to his selfish instincts once or twice. The resulting sweet sucks of your cunt just gushing around him, as if begging for more and more, has him reeling. His chest tight with so much affection for you, doing his best to prove himself to you because you’re his boss. And this is so wrong on so many different levels, which also only turns him on some more. Has his cock leaking more precum out, fat bubbles of it fucked against your insides to help him more easily glide in and out, and he’s feeling so fucking good that it’s a bit frustrating, to be honest.

Because he knows you’ll have to leave after this little private meeting. Understands that as soon as he pushes your back up against the bathroom wall for stability, his thumb meeting your clit in a fervent plea, instinctively rubbing frantic circles against the sensitive bud hidden between two bodies, he knows that you’ll have to go back home or to headquarters or to wherever the fuck it is you need to go after your little inspection. But what truly matters is that you’ll be away from him, and that’s annoying, because you make him feel so much better— not even his hand feels worth the time at this point. God, he fucked his fist silly last night to the mere thought of you showing up in store, giddy from the moment Morris had muttered your name at last nights team meeting.

And maybe, if he flicks your clit good enough, and if he fucks against your sweet spot fast enough, pinching at the fat of your ass nice enough, you’ll feel more inclined to stay. At least just a little longer, yeah? Let him treat you, take you out to the saloon before you have to head home and maybe let him eat you out a little or something.

It’s the least he could do.

You deserve so much better than the cramped JojaMart staff bathroom anyway, that’s for sure. And he hopes that by messily stroking your puffy clit in time to match his imprecise, faltering thrusts, he hopes to convince you to give him a chance. Just a small one, if you’d please. Isn’t he making you feel so good right now? Curled up into him, body begging for release as he feels your little hole tighten up around him, sucking him off so good that he has no choice but to fall further into you with hushes gasps and sighs. Got him so close, right on the edge of creaming your perfect little pussy right up, fuck— so he doubles down. Slows his hips to a roll to instead focus on getting you off with fast flicks and shuddered hips, whimpering down your ear as he’s forced to bite his bottom lip closed in an effort to remain hidden.

“That’s it,” he coos down at you, still yet holding your weight against the bathroom wall. And he can feel just how close you are too, especially given the way you desperately hump his cock for more— but he’s a good employee. He doesn’t make messes. “C’mon, please— gimmie it, ‘m so close, and—”

Before he can fully get his words out, he’s besotted with the feeling of your tight hole convulsing around him. Contracting and pulling him in, all gushy around his throbbing fat cock, and fuck… His balls ache to give you the same treatment.

But he’s a good boy. He’s trying to impress you.

And so rather begrudgingly, he draws his hips back. Making sure to let you down as gently as possible as he takes over fisting his cock. Bucking his hips into his paltry palm as you come down right before his bleary eyes, vision hazy with desire as he humps his fist to completion, aiming his cock down to the floor beneath him so as to not ruin your already crumpled attire any further. Thick ropes of seed meant for you, wasted on the sickly blue tiles of the staff bathroom— he’ll never forgive himself.

But to jack off in front of you feels pretty good too, especially when you offer him such a sneaky, satisfied smile. Enough thanks in its own right, he thinks to himself. Sending you a dopey lovesick grin back with a twitch in his eye, drawing out his orgasm for as long as possible so that you’re forced to share the same stale air as him for just a little longer.

“Sammy…” You call to him so softly, so sweetly, and like the loyal JojaMart dog he is, he instantly perks his ears up to you.

“Yes ma’am?” He sighs, still yet trying to catch his breath before you.

You’re fixing your outfit out, straightening the tight skirt and buttoning up your shirt all proper again. He thinks you look pretty all done up, but perhaps his favourite look on you is one of getting fucked out.

“Be sure to clean this mess before you go.” You point down to his feet, his gaze following down to the puddle of mixed fluids creeping closer.

He’ll have to try better for the next review.

[neetily]

SEBASTIAN BEGGING AND PLEADING FOR IT slightly forcing you into it please :3

this one is weird, maybe. but i really like creepy pervert sebastian the most </3... warnings: lying, dubcon, begging, masturbation, face humping, facial, cheeks..... wc: 2,506

It’s just because he’s bored.

That’s all— he’s just bored. A lazy Wednesday afternoon, Sam is busy working his shift at JojaMart, and Abi is… Well, he doesn’t rightly know where Abi is. All that’s important to know is that she isn’t here, and neither is Sam. Leaving just you, and him, all alone in his basement room after you supposedly dropped off some materials for his mother, and he bets it was his moms idea to have you come down to visit him just now too, right? You’d rather be anywhere else but here, huh?

Go say hi, would you? He’s not been out his room in a little while, and I think he could use some company!

Or something like that anyway… An unnecessary outing you likely felt obligated to complete out of sheer social pressure. This is why I don’t leave my room, mom.

But he’s thankful— Really! Happy that you felt the burning weight of niceties upon your weary wood carrying shoulders to kindly pay him a visit, even if only to make his mom happy for a brief moment. He’s glad that you’re seemingly unable to say no, not to his mom, and certainly not to him as he inches closer to you with a forced smiled tugging at his lips. You're in the perfect position for it too, unfortunatel.

“C’mon,” he leers at you, eyeing up the way the fabric of your clothes cling to your frame from the heat of his basement. “They’re just… They’re so cute, I can’t help myself…”

The art of acting casual never came easy to him, anxiety palpable on his face no doubt. But he isn’t lying at least, and that’s gotta count for something, right? His heart racing at the cute little pout you sport in response to his over eager affections, an expression that he’s sure wouldn’t be present if only he knew you a little better, took time out of his day to visit you and hang out with you beyond surface level hello’s and goodbye’s.

He’s trying now. Because he’s bored.

Or so he keeps telling himself, conveniently ignoring the plenty sleepless nights he’s spent fisting his cock merely to the thought of you. The sly glimpses he gets of you throughout the day burned into his mind, behind cracked door slits when you visit his mom, or behind crowds at the saloon every Friday night. It’s easy to forget all about just how much he loves whimpering your name into his cum stained sheets every night when your resting upon them right now, attempting to avoid his grabby hands as they creep closer, and closer, pretending not to hear the way you protest his touch.

“Jus’ a little…” He slurs, nonetheless approaching nearer to those chubby lil cheeks that have taunted him oh so much, oh so often. “Please,” he begs, pouting down at your pretty scowl with a twitch in his pants— he just hopes you cant see exactly how much your distaste turns him on. That'd be embarrassing, as if he wasn't being so already. “It’ll be quick, jus’— ah, jus’ lemme pinch em a little…”

It really shouldn’t sound so creepy, right? All he wants to do is squish and squeeze your cute chubby cheeks to his hearts content— as they’re begging of him right now. It’s only right that he gives your body what it’s asking of him, especially since you seemingly don’t realise it yourself. He’s just helping…

You mumble his name, but he’s a little too enamoured by the way your bottom lip wobbles as he grows closer, slowly creeping, until his fingertips hover above the apple of your cheeks and he’s so fucking close to making contact, and his cock drools a little bit in excitement over being so close to you, looming over your trembling frame, and— “Sebastian!” he hears you gasp, and the slight hint of annoyance present in your tone sends a shiver down his perverted spine. Followed by a sharp inhale of his own to recover the way you so easily knock the wind out of him, begging for his attention to which he so happily gives to you with a lazy smirk.

“Promise t’be quick, please.” He continues on regardless, unwilling to hear you out in favor of pressing the pads of his fingertips gently against your cheeks, soon followed by his thumbs, and oh you’re just as soft as he’d imagined as he presses them together… A little too squirmy for his liking, as he has to fight with the way you wriggle around in an attempt to free yourself from his grasp, but he’s not letting go so easily. Not any time soon anyway. Not when he can so readily position himself to be fully on top of you—silly girl, you should never have accepted his proposal to sit on the bed for a nice chat—straddling your hips before you have a chance to stop him, really. All so he can squish and pinch your cute, chubby little cheeks all night long if he wanted to. Because he’s bored. Because he can think of nothing better to do than to tug and tease your skin to his hearts content.

Because it’s fucking hot, actually. Obviously, rather. But he’s doing his best to hide that ugly truth, and hopes you’ll be thankful about it.

Because it’s much easier to hide behind the pure and simple want to squish your cheeks because they’re cute, rather than admit where his fault lie. And they are, don’t get him wrong. The cutest ever, actually. But it’s getting increasingly difficult to hide his hard on from you, because for as much as he ends up tilting your pretty face up to meet his half lidded gaze, you just as strongly attempt to fight back, and the way your body squirms from under him— God, he could cream his fucking pants on the spot to be honest with you. Just by looking at the prettily forced pout you’re forced to wear with his paws on your cheeks, cute kissable lips begging him for a taste, all nice and wet just for him, right? And the way your brows furrow together so cutely, sweetly knitted for his own personal enjoyment too. And— And fuck, how soft and squishy you are under his teasing touch... Pliantly allowing him to tug and pull on every inch of your cheeks he can reach, until you playfully, briefly, escape his grasp, only for him to find you once more.

“See,” He huffs down at you, unable to hide the wide smile you always seem to pull out of him. “Just teasing, s’all, promise—” a breathless laugh follows his lie, cock bobbing above you in his pants when you refuse to settle under him. If only he could just— just squeeze you a little more, y'know? Get rid of his boredom by pinching at different pockets of fat, a flash of your hips entering his mind and well, he's much faster and sneakier than you are.

It doesn't take much to get him going, and the squeak of surprise you immediately let out upon his grubby hands coming into contact with your hidden waist proves as much. Prompting a light sigh to escape him, though he's quick to recover to save face when around such a cutie like yourself. And more importantly, he was right. This is more fun, a faster cure for his boredom.

"Sorry, sorry," lies tumble from his lips, bitten before you to try and hold back on the lewd moans he so badly wants to let out for you, to show you exactly just how much fun he's having with your body right now. "I didn't mean to, I just— You're so cute and I— I mean," he can babble as much as he wants, he knows that there's no hiding the gross grin he sends your way, if your desperate recoil further into his dirty sheets is anything to go by.

"Couldn't help myself..." he finally mutters, like a dog. A broken record stuck on replay, mumbling the same excuses over and over again because all the blood in his body is rushing down to his cock and he can't make sense of anything beyond just how badly he wants to touch you. Grope you. Feel you. Do anything with you so long as his hands are on you. Like a filthy fucking pervert.

"Seb, I think— Think that's enough, right?" Your voice comes out as a quiver, a shaky sigh at best. Something so easily ignored, he thinks.

You should learn to speak up around men like him.

Because in truth, you're probably right. It's not like you consider him a friend as such, more like a welcomed acquaintance, right? And yet here he is, straddling your lap with his nails digging in to your soft sides, hard cock standing tall and proud before you as it trembles behind the layer of cloth barrier his jeans provide, and you're doing very little to stop him from going further.

Which means you must want him too, right?

Not that it'll stop him begging for it, mind you. Relenting in his prodding and touching only to be able to unzip his pants, his fat bulge spilling out for you to gasp at in the meantime. "Can I, just a little, if it's okay," He starts, practically drooling at the way you cower from him, like a coy little thing. "Can I get it out, please?" it's not really a question, seeing as he's already tugging his boxers down just enough to let his cock spring free before he even finishes asking, a fat bead of precum rolling from the tip and onto your front to stain your clothes all sticky. "I just need to, only for a bit. Hurts, see?" He begs for your attention, following your gaze down to the way his cock throbs and jerks against his barely there touch, all hard and wet because of you.

"I, I see, but—"

"C'mon, please! It won't take long, not if it's with you. Promise for real this time." He shuffles with his words, soon straddling your chest with his cock twitching right between your eyes, and the way you squint up at it, unable to decline his advancement only has his cock pulsing harder.

And without even understand exactly what he's asking for—not that he gives you much time to anyway—he sees your very nod. Meagre at best, like you'd rather just get this all over and done with as soon as possible as opposed to any active involvement, but he's not about to complain. Cock rock hard and leaking all over himself just from feeling your breath fan against his balls, and God, you can't blame him for angling his tip down against those soft and squishy cheeks to smear plenty precum across them, especially when you let out the smallest little whimper, and despite being unable to decipher if it's enjoyment or fear, he's still fucking done for either way.

"God, I'm so sorry, but—" his hips buck against you, involuntarily but more than welcome given just how fucking good it feels to graze his cock upon your face. "But you're so pretty, and— and I really like you, and, oh fuck—" he thrusts again, this time placing his hand hard against the top of his girth, so his cock in turn rubs harsher against your face in the faux pussy he's simulating right now. Your face, his cock, and then his hand. A stupid sandwich that feels oddly intimate to him, in a way that his has balls taut and his cock drooling all over you some more, as if his aim was to be as messy as possible.

And he's not lying, he really does like you. It's one of the only truths he's said so far tonight actually, proven by how he almost immediately settles into an unfair fast pace against your cheek, humping and grinding recklessly despite the squeak of his bed under his weight. An added bonus to living in the basement— nobody but him can hear the way you stifle whines and swallow moans.

It's just that you suit his cock so well.

"Look, I'm sorry," he exhales shakily, slowly, trying to keep up with the silly speed he's set for himself, but the feeling of his balls slapping against your chin is so nice, and the wet squelch of his cock gliding against your lips and your cheek and up to your squeezed shut eye— "Let me feel good, let's feel good together, okay? Please?" it's too much as he continues to plead with you, because it all feels too fucking good to be using you like this, to have you willingly sit there and let him rut like a bitch in heat whilst he begs for your forgiveness, because he's nothing but a stupid mutt with a horny cock and he can't. Fucking. Help himself.

Can't stop feeling good, not even if he tried. Drool pooling behind his teeth at the way you try your best to sit still for his rutting, but the soft scowl you wear when his precum dribbles down the side of your cheek is tell tale enough. It's gross, isn't it?. He's being nasty right now, isn't he? But he thinks that that's whats getting him off the most.

Your dislike for him and the situation he's begged himself into.

"'M close—" he intends to warn you, but this yet again sounds like some sort of pleading. An imploring to sit still and be nice. "Please please pleasepleaseplease, fuck please—" he whines, all high pitched and feminine from the way his back arches into every thrust, really angling his cock tip to squish against your cheek with his humps and fucks until finally, after you exhale long and disapprovingly against his girth, he manages to show you just how much he likes you.

Thick fat ropes of cum shoot from his tip, inevitably painting your pretty face all white and sticky with seed. Fat load fucked right against your face, coating across your eye to glue it shut as a reminder of what's just happened, if you might have second guessed it later. And even then, after he's covered you in as much cum as he can, he absently spreads his stain all over your used cheek, aiming a few shots down at your lips so that you can taste just how much fun he's been having.

Though he's not done there, not even as he begrudgingly removes his cock from your sticky face and once again straddles your waist. No, still he waits for you to say something, only so that he may interrupt with another beg.

"Um... Sebastian, can you—"

"Please let me have a taste—" he cuts you off with a pounce, planting his lips firmly against yours just to share the sweet saltiness he's just rubbed into your face.

[neetily]

ahh so happy to see your requests are open! i love your writing so much 💜 would you perhaps be willing to write something where whitney’s bullying reader and it’s becoming increasingly obvious that the more degrading things he says to her the more she’s squirming and pressing her thighs together and he makes her beg him to make it better, because such a needy little slut has to beg for it if they want his cock 🥵 no worries if you’re not feeling it or if you feel it would be too similar to previous works, i just thought i’d ask! either way you’re amazing and i love seeing all your posts whether it’s writing, rambling, or just random things you share, you always make my day a little better mwah

yippeeee !!! thank you for sending this request in, and for you kind words !!! i hope i fulfilled your request well <3 it was a lot of fun getting into writing smut again with it, and i hope it reads well because it's been a while LMFAO x

warnings: degradation, bullying, cigarette burns, sadomasochism, spit, name calling (slut, whore), impact play, dacryphilia, blowjob, throatpie, masturbation, orgasm denial wc: 4,611

It takes him a moment to notice the quick flash of a lewd expression upon your otherwise scowling face, but he’s nothing if not perceptive. Especially when it comes to you, the object of his frustrations. You can count on him to catch everything you do, whether you like it or not. And that includes your terrible, downright disgusting misfortune— displayed only briefly, but it was there. He’s absolutely fucking positive about it.

Which, unfortunately, only emboldens him some more. Tightens the already too tight ball in his stomach to leave him momentarily gasping, fingers itching in his slack pockets to pet himself a little. Just a small amount, unnoticeable by pretty much anyone who may walk by, let alone you with your downcast eyes and wobbly lips. Just to relieve some of the built up tension your pathetic display of want has prompted inside of him a little reward for himself seeing as he’s put up with you for so long today.

“You’re squirmin’.” He states matter of factly, exhaling long and steady, as if preparing himself for something greater than. But really, the only reason he’s sighing so heavy is because the tip of his fingers have just made contact with his hidden girth, and your useless excuse for an existence has got him sooooo fucking sensitive babe…

Not that he’d ever tell you as such, no fuckin’ way. You don’t deserve such niceties— and he bets, given the way you’re currently reacting to his harsh actions and mean words, that you’d much prefer him to keep his secrets too.

A needy little thing like you, of fucking course you would. So pathetic and stupid, there’s no way he’d treat you with anything other than utter contempt. Because it’s frankly gross to witness the way you shiver and wriggle around in place in response to his unfair treatment, kicking you down to the ground in a quiet school hallway— you should be in class right now, not getting off to the way he lazily dabs ash from his cigarette above your head, or the way he snarls down at you with teeth bared to exude his dominance over your pitiable frame.

“Disgusting,” he sneers down at you, smiling into the word when you’re unable to meet his gaze in return, instead staring dumbly down at the ground beneath you as if it were far more interesting than him. Which is an insult, really, and prompts him to jut your chin up to face his leering with his dirt covered shoes. “Fuckin’ freak— you like this, huh?” He calls you out, clear as day, taking another slow inhale of his cigarette just to exhale the dirty smoke right against your stupid face. And the resulting cough you let out is cute, albeit another indication of your perversion when you soon shiver when the cloud clears.

He supposes it makes sense. He’s been bullying you for long enough, he can imagine that the roughness and harshness he exudes would soon rewire your brain into seeking the mistreatment out under the mislabel of love or whatever. But it’s funny, he thinks. Unable to stop the light laughter from exiting his pursed lips when he mimics the ugly pout you wear when staring back up at him. Funny that despite knowing better, you still seek him out like this. Like a dumb dog, you deserve nothing but the bottom of his boot, right?

Which is precisely what you’ll get.

Without much warning besides a twitch of his eye, he stubs the cigarette out against your neck, swift in his movements so that you’ve got no chance but to endure the stinging sizzle of his ash, and the resulting sob you squeak out—all cracked and high pitched, and fucking pretty—has his cock twitching in sheer delight. Pulsing under his greedy fingertips as he takes a better hold of his cock from his pocket, running a finger as close to the tip as he can get, a shuddered breath escaping him at how well you wear pain.

You didn’t even fucking flinch, you weirdo.

“Aww…” his tone is patronizing, babying, to an extent. Cooing faux sweetly down at the bubble of tears that line your lashes, inhaling sharply as a means to steel himself against how much he enjoys the sight of you in pain. Treating you exactly how you’re acting right now— like a dumb slut. A stupid fucking whore, one he bets would like nothing more than to be used and abused beyond recognition right about now. And he’s all too eager to give you what you want— so eager that it honestly frustrates him a little. To be giving in to you, treating you paradoxically how you need to be treated, in spite of the bullying nature. It’s annoying that he wants that just as much as you do. Struggling to keep composed and in control when you’re pouting up at him so prettily like that, body simply begging for his abuse like some sort of addict.

God, but that’s so fucking hot, right? He did that to you. It was him who made you a sobbing, begging mess of a whore by his feet. Tiny little fists balled by his boots, like you’d ever have a chance of fighting back. It’s truly fucking pathetic to watch you squirm around for more, breathing heavily in the face of his hard on pointed directly at you, hovering above and hidden in his pants, casting a shadow reminder over your ugly stare up at him that you’re nothing but his favourite punching bag. But you like that reminder, don’t you, slut?

He hopes the cigarette burn leaves a permanent reminder that you wanted this too. A constant mark of him, forever and ever scarred into your soft skin. Following you long after you realize just how shitty he’s being to you right now, and you suddenly want better for yourself. Even then, he’ll be with you. And if that doesn’t get him rock solid at the mere thought, God…

“Look at’chu…” he mocks you some more, enjoying the way you huff and sigh with every bullying remark just a little too much, his chest tight with unneeded affection for you. Because he’s sure you’d enjoy this interaction much more if he genuinely hated you, right? But he can’t find it within himself to truly dislike the sweet sighs of pleasure that tumble from your bitten bruised lips, or the way you seek more, and more, and more, and—

You’re just like him, deep down. And he can sympathize with that. A match made in Hell, captor and captive.

If it’s pain and degradation you’re seeking, you’ve came to the right guy for it. So right, in fact, that he knows not to give it to you handed on a silver platter. That’d be too easy, right? For you and him. All the trembling and panting you’re doing before him, acting like some sort of bitch in fucking heat as he considers his options, he knows better than to simply give you want you’re so obviously seeking.

No, pain sluts like you need more, ain’t that right? A constant seeking of more, an insatiable need to be pushed further against the ground, to exceed your previous limits until that stupid little brain of your can fully switch off and you’re able to act in the purest of forms. Sheer instinct alone, a mere puddle of disgusting fluids, yeah?

You’re nothing but holes to him, he understand. It’s what you want, ain’t it?

So really, he’s doing you a favor. And without much care for consideration, he exhales a heavy, condescending sigh, and grabs your chin with his free hand. Still yet petting his throbbing cock from his pocket, he taps a thumb against your lips absently and almost cums on the spot from the way you flinch away from his touch. So fucking hot, God, a shiver running through his spine at your victim hood.

“Open up.” He commands nonchalantly, for there’s no need yet for convincing. His slut doesn’t need any sugary sweet lies, or demanding dominance. He’s simply treating you as you deserve, evident from the way you slowly widen that pretty maw as per his mumbled instruction.

You shouldn’t be so eager to prove him right, slut.

A good fight is enticing, always. But there’s something so special about the way you so easily and willingly give in to him. The dead eyed stare back at him to communicate that there’s no fight left to give, and the little glint that sparkles in your eye when you watch his adam’s apple bob right before you tells him that deep down, you want this too. Even if it’s gross, dirty, disgusting, and deplorable. You fucking slut, he oughta leave you right where you pathetically squirm, surely pressed right against the cold hallway floors to cool off the sore little cunt— bet she’s begging for him, huh? Aching to wrap his cock up all warm and tight, suck him off in an attempt to keep his unfair hands around your neck just a little longer.

But he’s got much better plans for a whore like you.

Like: Collecting plenty saliva behind his teeth, making sure to gargle it a little for a worthless hole like you, before spitting it out and down your own throat with no warning whatsoever. He’s always loved having the upper hand over you.

You cough, and gag, as expected. Beautiful little sounds that make his cock twitch and leak pre for you. But nonetheless, all it takes is a single, stern stare before he bears witness to your own swallowing efforts, and he’s never wanted to fuck you within an inch of your life more than he does right now. Like a light switch, a tug in his tummy that simply begs, fucking implores him to put you in your rightful place: beneath his beating boot.

“Nasty fucking girl—” he seethes at you, taking a rough grab of your collar only to slam you back against the nearest wall, pure instinct, remember? The resulting cry you sound, broken and distraught over the likely pain radiating from your head down to your neck only has him throbbing harder, and he has to struggle with himself to unzip his pants fast enough to let his cock spring out from the little hole in his boxers and against your chubby little tear stained cheeks.

“You’re almost cute like this,” he huffs, agitated with the sheer amount of lust coursing through him, all balled fists and toothy snarls. “Cryin’ an’ snifflin’— shit, it’s almost a fucking improvement.” He barks laughter down at you, pinning you in place with such ease as his nails dig into your scalp— just enough to offer you that soothing pain you’re seeking, but not enough to deal any real damage.

Pain sluts like you are hard to come by, and he’d rather not damage you beyond repair just yet.

He’s quick to act, something about leaving you with very little time to grow accustomed to your misfortune. It’s more exciting that way, right? Gets you wetter just thinking about all the ways he could abuse you right now. And he briefly wonders which way you might favor, and how he could ruin that for you.

But at the end of the day, there’s only one thing on his mind right now. And it’s that wobbly lipped little maw you’ve got, making those sinful little squeaks and sobs, and just how badly he wants to shut you up so as to not alert anyone else to your small private undoing. You’re all his for the time being, and he won’t tolerate you showing off how much of a perfect pretty slut you can be to anyone but him.

With a tightening of his fist at your hair, and a growled tut that crawls up his dry throat, he unhands his pocket cock to instead favor gripping your chin. Pulling it as open as he’d like because he knows you enjoy that. Dirty slut, useless fucking whore— and you allow him to touch you however he wants too. Letting your jaw turn slack in his unfair hold, even lolling your tongue out a little for his own erotic enjoyment.

But he’ll be damned if he lets you get the better of him, even if the sight of your squishy tongue and saliva strings make him more than a little dizzy. Cock tip leaking more bubbles of precum for you, dripping down to the floor where you knees rest and tremble. Thighs pressed and rubbing together to give away just how much you’re actually, disgustingly, enjoying this display of debauchery, even as he fish hooks the corner of your mouth to widen your jaw some more. Lemme see everything, his dirty paws implore.

And he eyes you up for a moment or two. Really takes in the sight of your stretched wide lips, pretty pink tongue poking out just a meager amount— but it’s enough to get him going. God does it get him going, fuck… To view you in such a vulnerable state, so fucking wanting to hurt. You’ve never looked better to him than you do right now, covered in snot and tears, peering up at him from behind fluttering lashes in a silent plead for more. He wants to make you cry some more, to see more of those fat tears roll down your cheeks simply because he’s selfish, and it makes him hard to know that he’s hurting you in some way.

His cock presses insistently against your cheek at the thought, poking and prodding his hot pre into your skin, only for him to smear it all over your dumb face with a thumb at the base of his cock to guide.

“Think y’deserve this?” He questions you, though it’s rhetorical at best. A test, more likely. Teasing his tip against your tongue that he fishes out from your mouth, pinching at it to place it into position for his own twisted enjoyment. “Think you’ve been good enough for a taste?” He continues, jutting his hips closer to your face so that his cock slips and his full length pushes against your face, tip leaking directly against your forehead, balls twitching against your nose.

He only pulls away to hear what your muffled answer was, though the vibrations sent across his balls almost convince him to stay. To hump your face silly until you’re sobbing for release yourself. But alas, he’s too curious for his own good.

“I— I think so…” You manage to babble out behind gasps and sighs, and that’s exactly what he’d hope you’d say.

Too fucking bad, he thinks to himself, tugging on your hair hard enough to have your neck crane back into an uncomfortable position, his cock hovering just out of reach above your open wanting maw. “I don’t need you to fucking think,” He reprimands you, tone hushed so as to not give away just how excited he truly is at the fact that you’re playing your victim role perfectly. “I jus’ need you to be a hole, can you do that fr’me?” He mocks your pout again, talking down at you with barely contained glee. “Or are you so useless that y’can’t even do that, huh? S’that why no one else will touch you? Dumb little slut can’t even be a hole properly, s’at it?”

It’s not your fault that you’ve became so secluded. That’s his own doing, he knows. Intimidating any and all who try to get closer to you, because he doesn’t need them convincing you that he’s really fucking bad for you, honestly. But being mean just comes so naturally to him, truth be told. And being mean to you specifically comes even easier, the broken half sobs that you let out upon his bullying are all too enticing to ignore, his rock hard cock just pulsing with delight and oh so close to your puffy lips— he’d fucking kill for you. Even if he isn’t acting as such right now, the fact that you not only accept his rough and unfair treatment with nods and smiles, but actively seek it out from how you practically bounce in place for a mere chance to taste his cock, it’s enough to have him keening for more of you despite already being promise as such.

He’s just as choking for it as you are, believe it or not. He’s just better used to handling needy sluts like you. Had plenty practice, you see.

“Beg for it.” He huffs down at you, letting go of your hair only to see how well you behave without the threat of more pain, and so that he can jerk his fat cock off right above you— a light tease for a stupid slut such as yourself. Ignoring the fact that he’s almost at bursting point himself given your lewd display of tears and shivers, he has to make you beg for it. It’s what you need, isn’t it?

And the immediate confusion upon your dazed face, hypnotized with the up and down jerks of his fist along his cock, throbbing nicely for you alone to witness— it’s all very stupid. Gross, nasty to be getting off to his denial, really. But that’s what’s got him so hot and bothered, hand wrapped tight around his heavy cock to try and alleviate some of the built up tension your mere existence causes him to endure. The absolute least he could do as thanks for getting him so fucking hard that it almost hurts, is to give you the pleasure of denial. The embarrassment of gulping down your pride with a hard swallow, appearing cock eyed as you do your best to stay focused on his twitching length, and forcing you to beg for a mere taste.

It takes you a moment to gather yourself well enough to answer, and almost a moment too long given how tight his balls grow against your chin from all the stroking he’s doing. Masturbating against you, above you, to you. Fuck, he’s just as fucking pathetic as you are at this rate. And that’s annoying to admit.

“I— Um, p-please…” You miserably mumble, and he wonders if you have any idea as to what you’re actually begging for right now. “Please Whitney, I— I promise to be good, please, just—”

“God, would you fuckin’ shut up.”

Before you have a chance to point out his contradiction, a thinly veiled question just to be able to bully you some more, he flattens your tongue with the tip of his cock, pushing it down your throat just enough to have your lips automatically seal around him, and he rests there for a few seconds. Lets you thankfully get used to the feeling of his weighty girth sitting upon your squirmy little tongue, before exhaling heavily with a boyish grin tugging at the corners of his lips. You’re either too stupid, or too slow to realize exactly what’s going on here right now, and he’s all too happy to exploit that to his own forever benefit.

He waits until you just start showing restlessness about warming his cock tip before he takes control again, unceremoniously making sure that your head is pushed right back against the wall behind you, and his thighs stand at either side of your shoulders, effectively pinning you against the wall by way of the cock stuffed down your throat.

“Don’t fuckin’ move,” He warns you, genuine and quiet, so you know just how serious he is right now. A threat in its own right— he could so easily remove the tiny bit of tip he’s allowed you from between your pretty pursed lips at any given moment, but he’s being kind enough to use you right now, so you better fucking behave. “Or I’ll give you something to really cry about.”

He doesn’t miss the way your eyes widen and light up at the misunderstood promise. Though he’s not opposed to being even rougher with you in future, he fears he’s already reaching his limit from just how on edge you’ve had him all day, and how depraved you’ve acted in the hallway, and the way your tongue swirls around his cock oh so sweetly, shit— he’d better get a move on before he embarrasses himself any further than he already has.

So, with as much care and attention that he’s afforded you thus far, he steadies himself against the wall behind you with one open palm, his other hand coming down to grab at the base of his cock; though it’s difficult to ignore just how shaky his hold is, already so close to the edge from previous petting. But through sheer willpower alone, he takes a final steeling inhale, and plants his feet firmly on the ground.

“Be good,” he exhales. Then, almost lovingly, “You look best with a mouth full of cock.”

It’s a genuine compliment he offers you, but that slight twinge of honesty is quickly overtaken with utter need, lust fueled hands pressing harder against the wall as he takes to stroking the remaining length of his cock not yet swallowed by your greedy maw, forcing you to endure the feeling of continuous pre spilling out against your tongue, without the satisfaction of a good face fucking. And he knows, deep down in the pits of his butterfly filled stomach, that you will be good. Knows that underneath it all, you so desperately want to be so good for him that he’s left with no choice but to rely on you in future, to need you just as much as you appear to need him.

And, well, he’s almost there baby…

It’s soooo difficult for him to keep his hips still, fighting with the urge to hump your face so fucking fast to full completion with a dirty load straight down your throat. But he wants to prove himself to you, show you just how well he can bully you into submission, so that he has the pleasure of doing so again, and again, and until he’s either bored of you, or dead.

But with the way you grow hearts in your eyes as he drools more pre down your throat, body relaxed enough for him to bully and abuse to his hearts content, he figures that there’s no way he’d ever grow bored of not.

Never ever. How could he? You respond so well to his teasing touch, knuckles brushing harshly against your chin with every stroke up and down his needy cock. Pulsing and throbbing so nicely against your tongue, yeah? Poor thing, all you gotta do is warm his tip for him— let him do the rest. Ain’t he just soooo nice to you, yeah? Jacking off inside one of your holes, allowing you the privilege of tasting his salty pre whilst taking care of himself. You should be fucking thankful that he’s even allowing you that, flicking his wrist on every upward stroke, squeezing every time he reaches the base. And fuck, it just feels so fucking good to be using you like this, with little care or regard for your own wellbeing. You’ll be getting off to this mistreatment regardless, right? Doing everything in your power for even just the smallest amount of friction whilst he does his best to ignore the squirm of your tongue, or the suck of your lips, or fuck, the way you shiver on top of his cock like that—

“More spit—” he means to demand, but his voice comes out listless. Breathy, even. A moan hidden between the lines despite his best efforts to keep his lips sealed. But God, he had to say something. Regain control somehow in the face of your complete and utter perversion, and how you might just rival his own.

But you just so happen to heed his request expertly, for better or for worst. And he knows as such because despite avoiding looking down at your stupid face, he can fucking feel how sticky with spit his knuckles grow. Can hear the echoing slap of his wet balls smacking sweetly against your chin, probably to your own sick enjoyment, yeah? Little fucking pervert, but fuck if he isn’t happy to find someone who matches his own desires. Fully enjoying just how much saliva that spills from your corrupt little mouth with squelchy fist fucks, full length strokes up and down the cock left out of your mouth cunt that he can barely catch his breath. Furiously masturbating inside of your soft, warm little hole as if it were the only thing that ever matter to him right now. Forgetting entirely about the fact that he’s in school of all places, tattered uniform hanging loosely to his frame as he’s more busy getting off inside of his favourite sluts throat, the tell tale wet smacks of skin on skin surely ringing through the hall and into nearby classrooms— it’s all too easy to forget about anything other than how fucking good you’re making him feel right now, and all you’re really doing is sitting fucking still like he’d told you to.

It’s too much for him, honestly. The complete obedience you display for him, submitting with such ease that he can’t help but to fuck himself to completion far faster than he’s used to— but he blames the copious amounts of dangerous foreplay you’ve had him endure since meeting you in the hallway for how quick he’s been today. Giving in to the need to fuck your tongue just a little on a whim, but it’s that little bit that fully sends him off the edge, still yet fisting himself even as he cums straight down your surely tight little hole that he privately swears to violate at a later date.

Thick ropes of cum shot directly against the back of your throat, and fuck sake you sound so good when gagging on it all, a breathless laughter escaping him with moaned words of “Sluts don’t need to breathe—” as if he’s any fucking better himself. Struggling to catch his own breath after such a thorough teasing, making sure to milk himself completely empty against your tongue as some sort of reward for acting nice and pliant for him.

And then the embarrassment hits him. Like a fucking truck; he’s just given you exactly what you want. A nice fat load down your sticky throat, abused you so well that you’re left in a lust induced dazed by the time he pulls out and tucks his softening cock back where it belongs. He hates that, cannot fucking stand to admit that he might like some useless slut like you more than you’re worth.

“Fuckin’…” He’s unable to find the words to communicate exactly how he feels now, staring at the absolute state he’s left you in. All messy and dizzy, still coughing a little as cum yet coats and clings to your throat. “Fuck off, slut. Got no more use left in ya.” He tuts down at you, pushing himself off from the wall abruptly, so that he can go smoke in the school bathroom to try and figure the fuck out exactly why his heart stutters at the sight of you so pretty and ruined.

He’d feel bad for leaving you like this if not for the fact that you’re nothing but a filthy whore, right? And what do sluts like you appreciate the most? Being left high and dry. Orgasm: Denied. Ruined for you. The perfect ending, don’t you think?

[neetily]

gonna try and finish up a request today to get out <3 here are the current warnings. it's a whitney fic :D

[neetily]

lil snippet from it !!

“Open up.” He commands nonchalantly, for there’s no need yet for convincing. His slut doesn’t need any sugary sweet lies, or demanding dominance. He’s simply treating you as you deserve, evident from the way you slowly widen that pretty maw as per his mumbled instruction.

You shouldn’t be so eager to prove him right, slut.

[wooflixerr]

yan!kylar x reader

cw for: sibling incest, rape/dubious consent (line is blurred a lot), cutting and references to self harm and destructive behavior, blood, references to bullying and sexual harassment, and a general dead dove do not eat this is not for the faint of heart

_________________________________________________________

The whirr of the bathroom fan did nothing to comfort you as you curled up further into the cold walls of the bathtub, hiccuping softly as you cried. Your life was awful. Your friends didn’t seem to want anything to do with you anymore, Whitney bullied you on the regular, and it seemed like the harassment from other students as well was neverending. Anything that took your mind off of it was your solace. First, it was alcohol from your parent’s liquor cabinet, then it was prescription pills, and now it was cutting yourself. Fiddling with your blade, you graze the sharp edge against your thighs before trying to dig it in and cutting yourself. The first slice felt awful. The blade was dull; it felt like trying to cut yourself with a pair of children’s safety scissors. More pain than it’s worth, you thought. If it didn’t even leave marks, how would people take you seriously? You needed something to draw blood, cut you down to the second layer of the dermis. You wanted to see the milky white of styro before blood pooled over it. Your current blade wouldn’t cut it. It was weeks old and dull, and if you wanted to get anywhere, you’d need something sharper. Baby cuts and scratches weren’t enough. Dull razor abandoned on the sink, you sneak into your brother’s room to grab one of his boxcutter blade refills. You had done it once before. You didn’t think he’d notice it. He didn’t seem to care about it.

Or you.

You knocked first. It was impossible to tell when Kylar was home because he rarely ever left his room. The two of you would occasionally cross paths in the hallway, but that was the extent of your interactions outside of having dinner with your two parents. You chalked it up to his social anxiety affecting his familial relationships; you knew it ran in the family. You suffered from the same affliction, preventing yourself from reaching out to him. That same feeling drove you away from your friends. Sydney texted you often to ask if you’d come to the church sermons like you used to. Robin’s calls were left unanswered, his concerned voicemails echoing in your head, asking if you were okay, if you needed anything, if you felt like playing games together. 

Whatever. 

If they cared so much, they should have stopped you when you first started drinking. They don’t care, they would have stopped you when you started cutting. Why should you care about them when they don’t care about you?

Your self-deprecating thoughts aren’t interrupted by Kylar peeking through a cracked open door, asking what you want. Prying open his door slowly, your eyes dart across his messy room. You hadn’t been in here in what felt like years. Maybe the last time the two of you hung out together in his room was to play Mario Kart. Kylar always started off kicking your ass, but before long, he conceded when you got whiney about him being too good. You missed that. You missed your brother. You missed when he’d hug you like you were the only two in the world. He left you alone when you needed him. 

You hated him. 

You’d steal his blades and cut yourself.

That’ll show him. That’ll make him sorry. You’ll make him feel sorry for you, make him regret ever even thinking about abandoning you. 

You found the drawer near his PC setup with the boxcutter blades and took one, but as you closed the drawer and put everything back in place, the door slammed open, startling you as Kylar’s wide eyes locked with your own.

“What are you doing in my room?”

The only option was to hide the boxcutter blade in your sleeve. Kylar couldn’t know about this. Well, deep down, you wanted him to know. You want him to pity you. Give your attention again. Care for you like he used to. He hated you, that must be why he stopped paying attention to you.

You hated him.

You’ll show him what hate really means. But will it be worth it? You’ll go to the hospital if he tells your parents. He can’t do that. You’ll be alone. Then what good was this all for? Finally, your voice broke through the silence, feeling like you hadn’t spoken in years, rust caking your vocal cords like a doll’s voice box damaged by its lack of use.

“I was looking for your phone charger. Mine broke.”

Kylar steps towards you, his bright green eyes seemingly piercing through you. You were an animal being dissected under his gaze, pinned down, flayed open for all his scrutiny. You wondered what he’d do to you. You didn’t care. Because he was paying attention to you.

“You’re lying. I just bought you that one. It shouldn’t have shorted out this soon. Show me your hands.”

You shake your head. What does he think you stole? He doesn’t know. He doesn’t know about this. You were always careful. Careful enough to leave the door cracked open to watch the hallway. Careful enough to make sure he could get a glimpse of your perfect, smooth skin before you cut yourself open for him.

“Show me your hands. Please.” 

Kylar begs, grabbing both of your wrists. You try to squirm away, but the razor drops from your hands to the floor. He bends down to pick it up, holding it between his fingers carefully so as to not cut himself. 

“You’re stealing these? Why?”

Tears threaten to flood your eyes. It feels like your mouth is stitched shut. This is what you wanted, right? Then why does it hurt so badly? 

Kylar grabs you by the wrists again, and you think it’s over. He’s gonna tell mom and dad. It’s over. It’s all over. You’re being taken away from him all over again, and it’s his fault. He hates you, but you love him.

“For the longest time, I thought I was the only one who did that. But I guess we’re more similar than I thought. Haah…” 

Kylar pushes you back into his unmade bed. He straddles your waist. Your wide eyes stare back into his all-seeing green ones. 

“If you wanted to be hurt so bad, you coulda come to me. I miss this. I miss you. I held myself back, but now I know you’re a masochist just like me. We’re both the same kind of fucked up on the inside. It runs in the family, huh?”

This wasn’t how this was supposed to go. If you got caught, he was supposed to dote on you, mend your wounds, kiss you, hug you, pick up your broken pieces, and put you back together. Not break them more. Kylar’s pinning you to the bed. You’re his specimen. He’s got the scalpel. 

His hand movement is so quick that your tears blur it completely. You feel the burn of a cut on your thighs. Then another. Then another. They blur together into a throbbing, pulsing pain on each of your thighs. You’re sobbing hard, and he’s putting his mouth on yours. You lay there, his broken, cracked fucked up porcelain doll. Kylar kisses you like it’ll make you better, all the while he’s making you worse, his grip further breaking you apart. Blood pools down your thighs onto his bed, mixing together with the dark stains on his sheets. The same kind you have. 

“Ah fuck, you’re such a cute little sister. It was so hard, trying not to get too close again. I didn’t want to make you like me. But look, I didn’t do anything. I didn’t do anything, you’re just messed up like me. We’re too messed up for the world, but we have each other.” 

Kylar leans down to run a tongue across your cuts. It stings. You hiss. He smiles, the widest you’ve seen from him in a long time.

“I thought when I saw you do this in the bathroom once that it was just a one-time thing. Experimenting. But you kept doing it and doing it, and it got me so fucking hard each time. See?”

His hand moves yours to his crotch. You can feel how hard he is through his sweatpants. 

“I jerked off after watching you that first time. Then the next time. Then the next. I knew you started picking apart your own razors for their blades. I knew you took one from me, and now you’re here. You’re addicted. You can’t get enough. But I’m here, and you don’t have to do this to yourself anymore, okay baby sister?” 

He presses a kiss to your neck, nipping you in the process.

“‘Cuz I’m here to hurt you instead. Break you apart, and then put all your fucked up pieces back together. That’s what family is for, right?”

Dread pools in your stomach, heavy, cloying, weighing you down as you try to push Kylar off. It doesn’t work. He pins your wrists to the bed and pulls his pants down, along with his underwear, freeing his cock. You don’t want to get pregnant. You’re in high school. You’re siblings. But this fear would never come to fruition, not right now, as he instead presses the cuts between your thighs together and slides his dick across them.

What the fuck. 

The stinging.

It burns. 

You’re begging Kylar to stop, but he steals away your breath with a kiss. He’s rubbing your clit through your panties. You think you see your own blood on them, too. Everything melds together, but not enough for you to ignore the pain. Every thrust stings and makes you cry out while Kylar’s fingers rub soothing circles into your clit to try and calm you down. It’s almost working. This is the attention you wanted. Wrapping your arms around his neck, you open your mouth, deepening the kiss. Kylar’s tongue shoves itself into your mouth, it feels like he’s a wild animal trying to lick you clean. It’s disgusting. It’s hot. You want him inside. The feeling of him fucking your wounds isn’t enough. He needs to fuck all your pain away. When the two of you separate for air, a string of saliva connects the two of you, glistening in the dim light from his PC monitor. 

“Mhm, fuck I knew you wanted this. Haaah, you’re perfect for me. It’s why we’re siblings, right? You were made for me.” 

You don’t answer. 

Your mind is reeling with all the pain and pleasure, but you don’t protest when he pulls down your panties, which are tinged with blood. Kylar slaps your cunt, and you jolt, but before you can chastise him, he’s spitting on your clit, and burying his face in your pussy. His tongue circles around your clit enthusiastically, and distantly you wonder if he’s trying to repeat something he saw in a hentai once. Writing his name? The technique was off, sloppy, and shaky, but his enthusiasm made up for it. He was eating you out like a man starved, seemingly unable to decide if he wanted to lap at your clit, or delve his tongue into your pussy. Eventually, he made up his mind, taking his index and middle finger and shoving them into your sloppy cunt without prep. You could tell his sex ed wasn’t based on actual experience, especially with how rough he was being.

You wanted to protest, to let him know that this hurt, but his tongue on your clit was shutting down all of your thoughts. Eventually, your hand traveled to his hair, gripping his dark black tresses. His green eyes met your own as you stared down at him, his pupils blown wide like a cat. His fingers curl inside you, meeting the spongy spot inside that makes you see stars, and you cry out. Spurned on by your moans, he doubles down his efforts in fingerfucking you brutally, licking at your clit in tandem. It only takes a few seconds for you to cum around your brother’s fingers, and when he pulls away from you, you notice that he shoves them into his own mouth to clean them up, holding eye contact as he sucks all of your jizz off his digits. The reprieve after Kylar eating you out is short lived, because as soon as you begin to catch your breath after your first orgasm, he’s pinning you to the bed again, grinding himself against you. Precum coats his cock as he strokes himself, leaning in to kiss you again. You can taste yourself on your tongue.

Bitter.

Tangy.

You don’t enjoy it, but maybe you can sacrifice some things for your brother’s attention. It’s suffocating, though. His attention, his kisses, you’re drowning in him. He pulls back from the kiss almost reluctantly, but he takes your breath away in another fashion as he begins to push his dick into you. 

“I’m sorry, sis, I can’t wait. Lemme fuck you. ‘M gonna fuck my cum into you over and over again, we gotta make up for lost time, okay?” 

Kylar’s leaning over you, panting, and at this point, you don’t think it would be unjust to compare him to that of a predator. You can imagine him as a wolf bent over you, maw drooling and snapping at you as you lay bare, an injured sheep, wondering if it would survive this encounter or be devoured. Despite everything, despite the pain as he pushes his cock into you, despite the feeling of being filled up beyond your limit, you wrap your legs around him, pulling him deeper.

At least the two of you are bonding now, right?

This is the first amount of care and attention you’ve received in what felt like forever. Even if it’s your brother pounding into your pussy like this would be your last time together, it isn’t so bad. His dick reaches all the spots that your fingers don’t and feels warmer and more filling than any dildo you own. He pushes against your cervix, the ache hurting and feeling good all the same. This moment feels like the pinnacle of your existence, the intoxicating cocktail of pain and pleasure melting your brain to nothing, and it pours out of you as Kylar fucks the life out of you. His fingers circle your clit, as you moan out, begging him to fuck you harder. 

“I didn’t know my lil’ sis was sooo damn slutty, no wonder Whitney was always gawkin’. You’re addicting. Fuck, I get why he bullies you. I get it. Who doesn’t want you crying around their dick?” 

Those words would hurt you if you could think. But instead, you cry out as one of his hands meets your throat. His grip tightens, and your vision starts to go a little fuzzy as he continues to pound you. You’re reaching your limit at this point, and you can feel yourself tightening and quivering around him, nails scratching at his back as you try to ground yourself.

“I’m gonna cum, please, please. Don’t stop.”

You can barely get the words out before Kylar’s mouth is back on your own. He doesn’t need to say anything for you to understand what he wants. He’s close, too. He wants the two of you to cum together. It only takes a few more brutal thrusts and your brother spilling deep inside you for you to cum around him, your body falling back and going limp as the ache of sex pulses through you. 

Kylar seems disappointed to pull out, and you can see the cogs in his mind turning, seeing if he could make it through another round. Noting the tiredness in your eyes, he opts instead to part your thighs once more, bringing his mouth to clean the mixture of your cum and his own from your cunt. Thinking that was it, you begin to lie down but are suddenly stopped as Kylar grabs your jaw, forcing his lips on your own and spitting his load mixed with your slick in your mouth. 

Ew. 

Rolling over, you convey that you are tired, your thighs hurt, the blood has dried, and moving them feels like shedding your skin like a snake. Reluctantly, he lies behind you, wrapping his arms around your midsection, running his hands over the soft skin of your stomach, and then traveling lower to your brutalized thighs. His whispers fall on half-asleep ears as you begin to doze off, naked in your own brother’s bed.

“Everything’s gonna be okay, alright baby? Your big brother’s gonna take care of your needs from now on. Maybe next time you can let me cum on your cuts. Or I can cut my own thighs and you can grind yourself on them. You don't need to cut yourself alone anymore. 'M here for you.” 

You opt to ignore that, choosing instead to find solace in your brother's loving grasp.