#Incest CW

[incognitopolls]

Content warning: discussion of incest.

Hypothetical scenario: two middle-aged siblings, 2–3 years apart in age, decide to have sex with each other. They are full biological siblings, and grew up together with a normal, safe, and healthy home life.

They are both fully capable of consenting (no significant mental health issues, substance use, etc), and both genuinely want to go through with this. They are both single, have no known STIs, and it is impossible for this act to result in pregnancy.

We ask your questions anonymously so you don’t have to! Submissions are open on the 1st and 15th of the month.

[prettyboykatsuki]

caleb the type to talk you through your first ever orgasm </3 teaches you how to ask for what you want and makes you tell him where it feels good ☹️☹️ what else is an older brother for if not to guide his little sister?

inhales a puff of my cigarette

cw psuedocest, use of gege bc im a pervert, phone sex

you're just. maybe venting over the phone. crabby about something that has nothing to do with caleb at all. im picturing it over the phone for max sexual tension. you're just being even brattier with him than usual and he's like. gently scolding you about it. puts on that firm but kind voice he only does with you.

you blurt it out and caleb is like quiet for a while. and he's like well if you dont understand your body then of course it'd be difficult for you to do. and there's this underlying tension and you don't know what you're chasing. just that gege is safe and you can trust him with anything like you always have

so you just tell him you keep stopping. you get scared when you get too close and he laughs a bit on the other side of the line. you're scared because it feels too good? you're usually more brave than this.

you complain to him and he just laughs a bit more. but then eventually he tells you to focus on something else. and you petulantly reply like what? and caleb pauses. you hear him swallow over the line. just focus on my voice.

caleb wont say anything too crass. too vulgar. your knowledge of these things should be as limited as they can be. so its just... soft. gentle. doesn't use the proper words, skirts around everything. it feels good when you touch it lightly right? be gentle.

you get huffy. it's the tension. how on edge it already is. how you're trying not to notice the thick lust in calebs voice. how it makes you feel to not hear him or see him - but wonder anyone if he's aroused at all. if he's maybe touching himself to you, too. over the front of his jeans - just barely running his palm over it. as much as you want to think about, it's hard to picture it.

you can't picture him getting himself off, but for some reason it's easy to picture him on top of you. picture him inside of you—

im close you've never whined so loud gege, im—

shhhh. it's okay. just cum. ill take care of you.

you cum hard. its satisfying. stokes the flames of desire in the pit of your stomach and makes it easier to breathe. it makes sense, you think.

he already has so many of your firsts.

[pricegouge]

ohhhhh i’ll be thinking about apocalypse daddaughter for the rest of the day. what if uncle!nik joined the two of them??

i mean, it only makes sense, right? more mouths to feed but more survivalists have better odds.

i like the idea of reader not liking him. being upset when she first pulls into the driveway and sees his damn bird parked out in the back field. maybe he's been givong her the creeps lately. anyway. she gets over it pretty quickly. bigger things to worry about and all, but also she can't deny he's good to have around - especially early on when you and your father are still too upset to be any use. nik cooks and cleans. not well, but he does it. it's nice, even if his eyes linger.

you fall into a habit of cowering behind your dad pretty quickly, let him soothe you with pretty words and heavy hands. nik doesn't seem to mind, but you're starting to get a sinking suspicion that's due to him liking the way you look all wrapped up in the arms of an older man. they've always been close, enough so that even your mom didn't really like him very much. jealousy, maybe?

and come to think of it, isn't it strange he's here? your mom wouldn't have wanted him to join and it's not like she wasn't part of the picture even just days ago - right?

[unknownaurora69]

Well there you go. :P

cropping it down to this, printing it out and pinning it up somewhere i can see it when i'm writing the sexual fanfiction about them

[lizardsfromspace]

It's 2009 and you're an advertiser who just got assigned this sweet job for a holiday commercial. You know, family stuff was always hard for you to write as a only child, but you really think you nailed the dynamic here. Now to submit the final cut to Folger's and

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for 'outing' someone for writing inc*st?

I (20F) am in a moderately large fandom that got popular during the pandemic. Most of the fic for this fandom is gen and platonic pairings, which is a rarity and fantastic. One of the most popular creators in the fandom puts out a ton of gen fics that I really loved. Unfortunately, I learned after that they write fics on a different account, and not just any fics, but inc*st. I'm not talking about found family. These characters are literal brothers in canon. I can't believe anyone would ship them together, much less this person. I unfollowed them and now, whenever I see anyone talking about how much they love this creator, I inform them about the alt account and their ships. Ignorance may be bliss, but I felt awful when I found out and realized I'd been supporting them for so long and I don't want anyone else to feel that way. But someone replied to one of my comments calling me the asshole, telling me I was outing the creator, and to mind my own business. AITA?

What are these acronyms?

[t4tails]

in general i think we as a society fail victims of incestual abuse the more we talk about incest as just a kind of taboo porn category or type of fanfiction and not a legitimate issue. i think if one of the first things you think of when you hear incest is two anime boy twins kissing and not the abusive dynamic that is 99x more common irl you need to log off

[biracy]

Last rb also has me thinking on like. People conceive of sexual violence as like The Ultimate Form of violence, which manifests itself in two major ways in writing fiction: denying any possible subtext or allegory of sexual violence even in a story about many many many other kinds of violence, or shoehorning sexual violence into an already deeply violent and abusive dynamic to show how Super Totally Fucked Up it is now. And honestly I think tlt fans are "guilty" of like. both of these? There is a very obvious bloc of tlt fans who pointedly ignore the very obvious themes of sexual violence and misogynistic violence overall in the text (as if forcing the soul of the Earth into the body of a beautiful woman you then lock away forever isn't a metaphor for sexual assault), but I'd also argue there's a smaller, yet still present, subset of fans who like, don't seem to realize that grooming a) can exist outside of the context of sexual abuse and b) is still bad even if no sexual abuse is present. I'm not even necessarily against certain reads of like, Kiriona as her father's cavalier being potentially allegorically incestuous, but also I don't think there would need to be sexual violence there for that dynamic to still be abusive. John is, whether biological or surrogate, the "father" of the two teenagers he manipulates the most, and I think it's important to realize that the weaponization of fatherhood is always bad, even if it never "crosses the line" into explicit sexual violence. There are other kinds of abuse and tlt is full of it. Harrowhark is revolted by John's attempts to act paternally towards her because she has only ever known her own parents as forces of control and violence. Harrowhark's parents attempting to get a 10-year-old to commit ritual suicide is actually just as bad as any hypothetical sexual violence between John and Kiriona. In the same way that sexual assault is not "special" in that it should never be written about ever, it's also not "special" in that it is The Most Violence any story can ever have and you know it's Getting Hardcore Now when abuse "escalates" from physical or psychological to sexual

[natandacat]

Claudia talking to Louis while he's having sex with Lestat is still making me insane. How to better represent the complete absence of appropriate boundaries in rue royale. We all laugh at claudia' "two blood fat cocks" comment in s2 but in s1 she was fully having a conversation about how to kill lestat while he was balls deep in Louis. It's just another example of how enmeshed she is in Louis' sexual life despite his efforts to fulfill his protective roll at first (he's righteously upset at Lestat for first crossing that line by bringing her to the cruising spot to hunt and therefore being directly responsible for her sexual awakening).

Claudia's accusatory "which one of you is gonna fuck me" is not just a provocation, it's a sobbering and factually true assessment of her situation. The only times she explores sexuality outside of Louis' relationships (first with Lestat then with Armand), she is severely punished (first emotionally by lestat for Charlie's death then lethally by armand and the coven for the making of Madeleine). In her inability to make a companion or to control herself with humans, she fully depends on Louis for either direct sexual connection (talking to him while he's having sex with lestat or witnessing his fantasies of armand) or for the making of a sexual companion that she can safely engage with sexually (we see that she fears her lack of control around Madeleine's menstruation).

Incestuous dynamics truly are a product of isolation and lack of oversight that plague the nuclear family especially when they are as marginalized as the rue royale (a mixed race vampiric queer family) and later on claudia and louis as a single unit (codependent trauma bonded parent/child duo).

L'enfer c'est les autres, I'd even add l'enfer c'est la famille

[feyd-meowtha]

Some thoughts on Dune, media literacy and the way we interact (and do not interact) with difficult topics in fiction....

Buddy, imma say this with kindness in my heart.... If this gets you 'tweaking' then you aren't gonna like the ending of Children of Dune...

On the media literacy note.... big sigh.

It is explicitly said that Feyd and Paul were meant to marry and have a child had Paul been born a girl - obviously the natural reaction is to consider what the nature/implications of that would have been. The source material is EXPLICITLY telling you that they were made for eachother, destined to be together. This is also the text EXPLICITLY telling you that this relationship would be an acceptable thing in this world. Therefore engaging with this concept is not at all a reach and is very much backed up by the source material. People are not getting this idea from nowhere.

(Also if that still offends you, they're not actually first cousins but cousins once removed and 2 seconds of thinking about the family tree would have made that obvious, not that it really matters at all in the context of this story, but it is a very easy feat of inductive reasoning)

The fact is that this is a story about ruling families and (as they almost always do) it involves a degree of incest. This is ESPECIALLY true in the world of Dune where these people are being selectively bred like show dogs to have certain genetic characteristics, I hope I do not have to patronise anyone by explaining how that works. Especially given as Reverend Mother Mohiam says this, oh, 10 pages into the first book:

People who haven't read the literature love to lecture people on literacy, funny.

So, in conclusion, if this is how you feel then, with love, Dune is not the story for you. The fact is that a degree of incest IS normalised in this universe and if you're inclined toward tedious moralising based on writers exploring difficult ideas in fiction then I'm honestly surprised you ended up here in the first place. Dune is a story that constantly presents the reader with difficult ideas and invites them to critique and analyse them for themselves, including the morality of the Bene Gesserit breeding programme. In Dune no character is morally pure, no ideology is beyond corruption and no path is free of ugly choices. As adults we can engage with these difficult topics as we wish.

*Sigh* A few years ago these people learned the term 'media literacy' and they've been insufferable ever since.

[ihfmseatsoch]

I NEED DAD CURLY I KNOW U ALR DID THJS BUT FUCK. I’m a slut for curly🥹🩷 fem reader pls

haii sorry this took a hot minute.. im terribly sick -_- but i pushed through for dad curly #priorities. i should mention that the reader is OF LEGAL AGE ! even though they're still in school. they're supposed to be 18 or college age. Okay tyanks 👍🏻

genre: smut

word count: 3.3k

warnings/content: incest, age gap jealous curly, reader is daughterwife maxxing HARD, loss of virginity, inexperienced reader, rough sex, creampie, daddy kink? idk hes your literal daddy so. shrugs

–

Curly wasn't a jealous man.

He was always secure and confident in his relationships, never wanting to come off as an overbearing boyfriend who spit in the direction of any man that looked his partners way. He didn't see his past lovers male friends as competition, in fact, he was more than welcoming towards them.

Which is why he can't identify the feeling twisting in the pit of his gut, one that just felt plain unpleasant, when he saw you hug a boy from your class as you were leaving your schools parking lot. Curly had come to pick you up as he usually does, and he's commonly greeted with a kiss on his cheek or a warm embrace from you immediately.

Not this.

Curly has always been fine with his daughter being friends with boys. He trusted you enough not to do anything stupid, not to make the wrong decisions. You'd never even had a boyfriend before, so it wasn't like the men in your life were always in the back of his mind. So why? Why did he feel so shitty? Protective, even?

What on earth was different about this specific instance that made him feel like he wanted to pull you away and drag you straight to the car?

You finally make your way to the car, opening the passenger side door, plopping yourself in the seat beside him. You lean over to give him one of your usual kisses, right on his scruffy cheek. "Hi, daddy!" You beam, an ear to ear smile plastered on your sweet face.

Your affection does nothing to alleviate the ugly feeling of possessiveness inside of him. The fact that you look oddly chipper right now makes him suspicious. Was it the unnamed kid you were holding so close just moments ago that's making you so cheerful?

Still, he feigns casualness, giving your shoulder a light squeeze as a sign of his own love for you. Curly enjoys the way you still give him the title "daddy", even at your age. He's repressed his own realization that he likes it a little too much. "Hey, sweetheart." His mouth feels strangely dry as he forces a smile. With hesitance and an intense battle with his own common sense, in which his common sense lost, he continues, "So... was that a friend of yours?"

You blink in confusion briefly, before realizing who he's talking about. "Oh, yeah! For about a week, that is. He just moved to town, so I've been showing him around and stuff. He's super nice." Your giggle after you mention how "nice" he is makes him feel even more on edge. He recognizes a crush when he sees one. This isn't good. Not at all. His heart plummets into his stomach, sizzling in its acid.

"Ah. Right." He nods curtly, leaving the conversation at that, as he lost his previous strength to pretend he doesn't feel awful right now. His foot presses down in the gas pedal a little too hard. The car ride is unusually silent. Typically, he'd be asking all about your day right now, what tests you have coming up, how your friends are doing, and you'd talk his ear off about it in return. There's none of that today, besides the hum of the cars engine and the sound of him tapping his fingers against the steering wheel, feeling fidgety.

Curly feels terribly guilty, noticing your confusion at his behavior. He can't blame you, this is the most awkward you two have been with each other. He wants to say something, apologize for his attitude, but his throat swells up whenever he tries to speak. Is this jealousy? The soul crushing feeling he's heard so much about?

But why would he be jealous of his own daughter's relationships? He should be supportive. He should be a good father, push away these maddening negative feelings and talk to you. Physically, he can't find it in him to do that. Everything about this is irrational, he knows it.

You said you'd only known that boy for a week, so why does he feel... afraid? Scared that he'll take his precious girl away from him? Curly can't stomach the idea of you giving your love to some random kid instead of him. The thought that one day you'll give someone else a fraction of the adoration you give him is unbearable. His baby girl wouldn't need her daddy anymore.

Only when you're both halfway to your home is when you decide to speak up, "You okay, Dad? You're acting weird."

Your words ring in his ears deafeningly. How can he even begin to explain himself? He's a shameful excuse of a father. Clearing his dry throat, he utters, "I'm fine, hon. Guess I'm just tired. Pony Express has been kickin' me in the ass more than usual." Curly manages to come up with a lie on the spot. He feels even worse for lying to you.

The loving concern etched in your face at his fake excuse makes his heart hurt. Now he's made you feel bad for him. God, what is wrong with him today? He must really be losing it. This midlife crisis shit is no joke.

"You should take more breaks, daddy. I don't like you being a workaholic all the time." Your hand moves to tenderly rub his tense shoulder, his skin tingling with goosebumps from the contact.

Swallowing, he responds, "I know, I know," with a sigh, he runs a hand through his wavy blonde curls, some of the strands turning grey in his old age, which he tries to ignore when he looks in the mirror. "Overworking myself is just part of the job, babydoll." Curly holds back a frustrated eye roll at Pony Express's mistreatment. Maybe he was more stressed than he thought. Maybe that's why he's behaving like this today. Nothing more. Right?

"I still don't like it," You say with a shake of your head, aware of how corrupt the company your father works for really is. "I'll tie you to the couch if I have to, if it gets you to relax."

Curly knows you're joking, but for some reason, the faux threat sounds suggestive to him. His thoughts quickly become inappropriate. He can't help but think about how he would feel... completely at your mercy, restrained, utterly submissive. "Mm, that'll be the day." He replies, trying to inject his usual humor in his sentence, shooting you a soft smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes, showing off his subtle tooth gap, one of his teeth a little crooked in a cute, boyish way.

After he pulls into your driveway and you two hop out, you walk as close as you can to him, holding onto his arm, holding back from feeling up his muscles. That'd just throw you into a whirlwind of inner conflict.

"I'm serious, though." You continue onto your previous conversation. "You'd better not do anything but relax tonight, or you're gonna hear it from me." It's amusing how much you sound like you're his wife, making demands like that. It feels... oddly nice to him, to imagine you playing that roll. You already do, in a way, with how you consistently fuss over and take care of him. "Yes ma'am," he lets out a short chuckle, his smile genuine this time, "I'll be good. Promise."

And he doesn't break his promise, mainly because you absolutely don't let him. He thought of sneaking off, making a few important phone calls, but you keep an intimidating eagles eye on him. It's endearing how much you care. Any lingering traces of his earlier jealousy are nearly gone, that stupid kid long forgotten. He knows that he's the most important man in your life. He always will be. It was silly to think you'd ever leave him. He's your daddy, you'd always be his.

You cook him dinner as he leans back in the couch, the stress melting from his weary bones, the weight of his responsibilities nonexistent tonight. This is bliss, Curly thinks. His sweet little girl doting on him, making his favorite meal while he doesn't have to lift a finger for once. Maybe this is what he truly wants out of life. Domesticity. Not having to worry about a thing except being pampered.

You make two plates of food, one for you, and one for your beloved father. You curl up on the couch beside him, resting your head on his broad shoulder as you eat dinner together. The atmosphere is more peaceful than Curly's felt in a long, long time. His heart swells with love and gratitude for you, for the lengths you go to just to make him happy.

What did he do to deserve a daughter so perfect? So beautiful, sweet, and kind? He could go on and on with endless praise for you. Curly wraps one arm around your shoulder, leaning down to give you a gentle kiss on the top of your head. "Thank you, sweetheart," he mumbles into your hair, "You're too good to me."

"Nothing's too good for you, daddy." You give him a kiss right below his ear in return. "I love you. Just wanna take care of you."

The simple act of endearment has his face heating up, the butterflies in his chest fluttering wildly. Pull yourself together, Grant, he tells himself firmly. He's just pent up. Hasn't been with a woman in... he doesn't know how long. And since he doesn't do hookups, preferring something more meaningful, he's been stuck with his own, lonely hand. Curly has to clear his throat to find his voice, "I– love you too, honey."

You two are still cuddled up on the couch, long after you finish eating. Curly's mindlessly watching a cooking show, in which a woman only seasons her chicken with salt and pepper. Thankfully, your body pressed to his is distracting him enough that he doesn't grimace imagining the plain flavor.

He knows he's disgusting, pathetic, in fact, for being so flustered right now. As he slowly rubs circles on your back, he can't help but think how good your form feels in his hands, soft and warm. It's like he's a hormone-ridden teenage boy, except in reality, he's your dad, and you're his own flesh and blood.

Against his better judgement, Curly's hand trails down to your hip, giving it a light squeeze, as if to test the waters on how far he could go. You don't react negatively, only cuddling closer to him. What the hell is he doing? He mentally screams at himself to stop. Stop thinking about how much smaller you look against his large frame, how easy it would be to pick you up, or push you down, your pretty eyes wide and staring up at him as he towers over you, hunched over your body–

He's hard. And, officially, a sick fuck.

Curly desperately hopes you don't notice the tent in his pants, he prays to whatever's out there that you don't look down, please, don't notice how perverted he is. You'd never forgive him, he's sure. You'd never look at him the same. He crosses his legs, a pathetic attempt to hide his rigid cock.

It comes to a point where the discomfort in his groin and the lust burning his insides becomes too much it bear. Taking in a shallow breath, he finally decides on doing the unthinkable. "Hey... Sweetheart?" Curly sounds uncertain in himself, his confidence teetering on a thin tightrope. You turn your head to him, ever so trusting.

"Yeah?" You say, wondering why his body is so taut all of a sudden, and why his index and thumb is fiddling with the hem of your shirt. He struggles to look you in the eye as he continues, "Can... Can I ask you for one more thing?" His heart thumps in his throat.

You nod, always willing to satisfy his every whim. He's given you the best life he possibly could, you owe him everything in return, don't you? "Of course," You smile, "Anything."

That innocent look in your eyes only makes him feel guiltier. Curly stays quiet for a few seconds, just contemplating if he's really about to do this, if he's really willing to possibly ruin your relationship forever. His hand moves up to cup your cheek. God, it's practically bigger than your face, he notices. Baby blue eyes get lost in the sight of your lips, making him swallow from sheer temptation as he inches closer to you.

It takes your brain a moment to process what's happening, and when it does, strangely enough, you don't pull away. If this is what he needs, why would you deny him? He's your dad, the person you trust the most in the world. He wouldn't do anything that could hurt you. He bites back whatever self-control he has left, pressing his lips to yours, soft and experimental. The biggest spark he's ever felt ignites in his chest, your lips feel unlike any other woman's he's ever kissed. You're perfect.

You can't say you haven't thought about this. You've always found your dad handsome, and charming; more than the average daughter would. You've never kissed a boy before, and you're more than ecstatic that Curly is your first. You link your arms around his neck to pull him in closer, deepening the kiss, desire building up in your abdomen embarrassingly quick.

His hand gravitate towards your waist on instinct, the kiss which was originally sweet and tender turning into a full-on make out session. You let out a quiet whimper at the intensity of it all, his cock twitching in his pants at the cute sound. Fuck, he's never wanted anyone like this before, so ravenously. Curly makes himself pull away for air, too far gone to feel any semblance of guilt anymore, especially when you're looking at him so eagerly. You want this too. There's nothing to feel bad about.

"Is this okay, honey?" He breathes, chest heaving as he pants. "You alright with this?"

You nod silently, unable to find any words to say in your aroused state, your body overwhelmingly hot all of a sudden. That's all the consent he needs from you in order to lay you on your back, peeling off every article of your clothing with delicate care, marvelling at your bare figure under him.

You feel incredibly shy having him see you like this, covering your breasts with your hands, pressing your thighs together. "No, no. Don't do that, baby." he cooes, gently coaxing you to reveal yourself to him again, much stronger hands spreading your legs apart so he can get a good look at your cunt, glistening with slick. Knowing that he was the one who made you this wet so easily elicits a low groan from him.

"Look at you," he murmurs, sighing shakily at the very sight of you, "Dripping wet, just for your daddy." You whine as he runs his thumb along your slit, stopping at your puffy clit so he can rub the sensitive nerve in slow circles, his experienced hands making you gasp in surprise. A rough palm reaches up to gingerly fondle one of your tits, your father peering intently down at you from above.

"Fuck, you're so beautiful," he sighs, like he's in awe, "You know that? Such a pretty girl. Always have been." He pulls his sweats down just enough for his dick to spring free, and he hisses at the sudden rush of cool air against his tepid shaft, tip flushed red. Your eyes widen at its size. Massive, is once way to describe it. A thick vein runs down his length, pulsing with warm blood. Curly notices the intimidated expression on your face, and he presses a soothing kiss to your forehead. "I'll go slow. Don't wanna hurt you. S' gonna be okay, babygirl."

His tone is as consolatory as ever, and you can't help but believe him. Why shouldn't you?

It stings when he prods the head into your untouched, virgin hole, the ache worsening as he pushes in further. "D– Dad–" you whimper, eyes brimming with tears of pain, "It's not gonna fit, it hurts–" Curly shushes you, stroking your hair back to calm you down. "I know, I know, baby. It'll go away, I promise." His breathing stutters, a stifled moan erupting from his chest, your walls gripping him tighter than any pussy he's ever felt in his life.

When he's fully inside you, he tries his hardest to restrain himself and be gentle, lightly panting, his sweaty forehead pressed against yours as he thrusts cautiously, paying close attention to every nosie you make so he knows you're feeling good. "Takin' me so well, honey," he grunts, "Y' feel that? You're taking daddy so deep." He presses his hand to your stomach, where you can feel his cock prodding against your insides.

Your little whines and moans at every thrust inside you don't help his quickly diminishing willpower to keep your first time nice and gentle. He wants to be careful with his baby girl, he truly does, but you sound so fucking cute when he goes just a little harder, making you squeak in surprise.

You really can't blame him for ending up with your legs hanging limp on his shoulders, pushing them back so his cock can hit all the right angles, making your pussy clench and squeeze around him so tight, it only encourages him to fuck you as rough as you can take it. Your slick runs all the way down to your ass, his his balls making a wet slapping sound every time he rams into it.

"Dad– Daddy–" is all you can mewl, breathless, your brain short-circuiting from pleasure, practically going dumb from his cock. "Yeah?" Curly grins, relishing in the effect he has on you, "Daddy's making you feel so good, isn't he?" All you can do is nod stupidly at his question, eyes rolling to the back of your head. You abdomen pulsates with warmth, an unfamiliar tingling washing over your body.

"I f– feel weird." You tell him with a trembling whimper. "You're alright, just means you're close." Curly reassures you, simply. "Daddy wants to see you cum for him, honey. Don't hold back."

It doesn't take long for the build up tension inside of you to burst, your back arching as complete euphoria coarses through every inch of your body, a gutteral moan escaping your lips. "There we go, that's my girl," Curly croons, "Cum all over daddy's cock. You look so gorgeous right now, sweetheart."

Due to his age, he takes a little longer to get close to his own orgasm, continuing to fuck you through your overwhelming sensitivity. "M' almost there," he rasps, his head moving down to rest in the nape of your neck, leaving a trail of kisses along your flushed skin, "Nngh– gonna fill you up, baby– you want that? Want dad's cum inside of you?"

Your hazy state of mind makes it difficult to consider the risks, so you nod, agreeing to whatever he says.

"God, fuck– I love you, I love you, I love you–" he babbles, and with a throaty groan through clenched teeth, he spills his release inside of you, the warm and gooey substance filling your hole to the brim. Curly's legs give out, causing him to collapse on top of you, his broad chest pressed to yours, his body hair tickling your skin lightly.

When he finally catches his breath, he pulls out, and grabs a warm cloth to wipe away the cum that seeps from your hole. "You alright? Didn't hurt you or anything, yeah?" He asks, genuinely concerned, and a little guilty for not being able to hold himself back. "I'm fine..." You mumble, exhausted, "Just a little sore."

"M' sorry, sweet pea." Curly gives you a kiss on the cheek, as if it'll make everything all better. To be honest, it does help a little. So does his meticulous aftercare, and his cuddles.

You don't really want to think about the future consequences of your father cumming inside of you right now.

–

[incognitopolls]

Anon is not the one with incestuous desires in this scenario. They're looking for validation in feeling uncomfortable; be polite.

–

We ask your questions so you don’t have to! Submit your questions to have them posted anonymously as polls.

[prettyboykatsuki]

“caleb’s route has no incestual undertones.” he is called a siscon in THREE languages

[crow-cello]

Abel wearing a low cut top and Cain trying to resist the urge to pin him down and fuck those tits 💥💥💥

oh, you're tempting me to make a cain design just to see this drawn now 👀💥💥

as if abel's tits could even fit in a low cut without them hanging out from the bottom too!!!!

[pricegouge]

Also for the apocalypse if you’re still in the mood … Nik and his dochka who didn’t have a particularly healthy normal relationship to begin with, and toss in either a contagious infection or mutation-causing radiation, maybe some sex pollen type vibes. Nikolai locking his sweet girl up in her room after he’s exposed— needs to protect you from him— and he’s getting all of these sick urges… but he’s a strong man with an iron will, so he’ll be fine. You can stay in here until… until this wears off. Until there’s a cure.

His will may be iron when it comes to denying himself his own desires, but when it comes to you? It’s paper thin. He can only stand to hear your crying and pawing at the door for so long. You’re used to so much affection from him, he’s all you have left in a world that’s ending, you’re used to being able to crawl into his bed to sleep if you need to. You just can’t handle feeling so lonely, even if it’s what papochka says needs to happen to keep you safe. It hurts too much to be without him, you tell him as much, chipping away at his resolve. Not to mention the sweet scent coming from your door, like a siren call…

-🦷

I've said it before and I'll say it again. whatever the hell the opposite of dacryphilia is will always get me

cw: incest, obviously. grooming implied. dubcon due to consent being pretty meaningless but aside from that everyone is very happy to be here. i ended up adding a dash of religious guilt just cause i thought it added to reader's innocence. unedited and idek if it's hot to anyone else but like. gotta jump back on that smut writing horse sometime.

the worst part is, you want to be strong for him but you just can't seem to manage it. you know he's in pain, that he's scared for your safety. you want to be good, like he asked. because you're always good for him. but everything's been so hard ever since...

well, ever since.

(you don't like thinking about it, the incident. that first encounter, on the train, when papa had had to bloody his fist on a man's jaw because he'd gotten to close to you.)

they said it affected one's inhibition. made angry men violent, and lustful men like that one on the train... physical. in the streets, people had been reduced to animal instinct, but papa was not a sinful man so you didn't understand when he'd locked you away in your room, offering no real explanation beyond a general need to keep you safe.

yet there was no safer place than by his side, especially not when you spend every waking minute scared, jumping at shadows as the ghost of the man on the train haunts you late into the night. you'd tried to keep your cries muffled, but it was hard to do so in your sleep. twice now you've woken up to the sound of your father just outside the door, thumping his head against it as he tries to keep himself in check. keep himself away from you.

it only brings you more tears, fear and loneliness mixing until you can't even pry yourself away from the door, scratching at it like an abandoned puppy as you cry for the man who has always made things better, who's never once denied you anything until now.

he gives when you ask if it's the virus making him this way, if he's always wished to keep you locked away from him. "you're like that man, aren't you?" you sniffle, heaped next to the door one evening with your cheek pressed up against it, listening to him pacing on the other side. "acting on impulse. only, you don't want me." your voice creaks, fresh sobs building, but it's drowned out by the squeal of the hinges, the door falling away from you as it's ripped back, spilling you out into the hall where's papa's crouched to catch you, free hand heavy as he stokes it over your brow, down your cheek. with his forehead pressed to yours, he murmurs something about how stupid you are and then kisses you soundly before you can even get yourself worked up about the insult.

apologies follow, murmured against your skin in between the kisses he peppers across your face. he's sorry for locking you away, for ignoring your cries. he's sorry he left you all alone when he knows how scared you are. he's even sorry for calling you stupid, a notion that would make you giggle if not for the way his stubble scratches your skin, makes you arch into him, seeking more. he's overgrown, hasn't shaved properly in days. you wonder if that's due to a general lack of care brought about by the virus, or because supplies are going limited.

but it's hard to care about such things he's pressed against you so insistently, blocking out all other thoughts with a physicality you're unused to from him. papa has never been distant by any means (in fact the two of you have always had the close sort of relationship that's made your friends jealous. snide little comments and meant to drive a wedge between you. papa had never let you listen, assured you that your friends were simply misguided because their own fathers were no good.) but this feels different. his kisses have never lingered like this before, never been pressed into the crook of your neck, humid breath lingering on your skin as he breathes deep your scent. neither have you ever felt -. he's never been -.

"i'm sorry, milaya," he says again, aimless, like he doesn't even know what he's apologizing for anymore. generally, maybe.

there's no need for it, regardless. you hold his face between your palms and tell him it's okay and he caves, again, sinking against you with his lips sealed to yours until your knees buckle and he guides you to the bed. he keeps apologizing but you don't want to hear it, not when he's making you feel so good, so you distract him with more kisses, keep his lips busy another way. distantly, you know it's wrong, but what can it matter when the word's burning outside your window? when he's burning here and now, between your thighs, desperate for a relief only you can give him?

he promises to at least make it good, makes a sound like you've gut punched him when you say you know he will. he gets your skirt up first, lets you bunch it between your teeth when he draws embarrassing sounds from your lips, his own moving against your pussy with the same kind of ardor he'd shown your neck - desperate huffs and gentle, lingering kisses. it's… a lot, but not enough. makes you whine and squirm but doesn't make you mindless the way you'd thought it would, not until he groans in pleasure and digs himself deeper, panting against you with his nose pressed to your clit as he works you open on his tongue. he lets you get used to it, lets your pleasure build as much as it will, like this, dissatisfied and empty. he only moves when you're begging, fingers sunk into his hair as you try to pull him closer, deeper, anywhere -

of course he knows what you need. resurfaces with a deep, shuddering breath which he filters through the hair on your mound. his finger finds your hole as he mouths at you absently, too busy watching your reaction with heavy-lidded eyes. you take the first finger easily enough, cunt soaked with all his efforts. he gives you time to adjust anyway, digit gently probing against your front wall as he fucks it in and out of you minutely. it's better, but still not what you need, and he chuckles against your skin when you pout at him, trying to work your hips up despite the oppressive weight he's got leaned onto you.

"patience, dochka," he warns, no real heat. but it seems he's done denying you anything because his second finger lines up with the first even before he's finished speaking, blunt tip rubbing against your fluttering lips until they give, slight burn soothed by the way his first finger keeps rubbing against you. still, your father is a big man and it's a big stretch, forces a tiny gasp from you even as you try to breathe around it. and papa's at his limit for how much pain he can cause you.

his lips find your clit before you can even process the sting, long hot stripes that have you melting, legs falling away from him like a flower in bloom. he muscles impossibly closer in their absence, broad shoulders carving space for himself in the cradle of you. his free hand snakes over your hips, keeps you pressed against the mattress with enough force you couldn't squirm away even if you wanted. it's oppressive, being surrounded by him like this - even if you're not, not really, left lonely and open and embarrassed on your top half. it's good though, at least it is when you hide your face away and focus on papa's steady tongue, let him work you up until you don't feel the pain anymore, two fingers pumping into you with ease. you drift where he takes you, at his mercy as he reels you in and out of pleasure, distracted enough that you barely even register when he repeats the process with a third finger until his knuckles are bullying past your gate, earning another whine.

"i know, malýshka," he growls against your clit. "just a little more, hm? are you gonna be good for papochka?"

you're always good for him, nodding along before you can even fully register what he's asking. but that's okay because he makes it easy, sitting back enough that he can spit on your cunt, voice a low rumble of his native tongue as he watches you flinch at the sudden insult, hole clenching tight around his fingers before letting them ease oh so gently in, freshly lubed with his spit.

it gets easier after that, stretched so wide around his digits he can't miss any inch of you, scissoring you open with fingers that drag against all your most sensitive points. he doesn't go back to licking you yet, is too entranced by the way your mouth gapes, open and honest as he forces little whines from you, a heady overture to bass rumble of his voice, low enough you barely register when he switches back to english, a steady stream of praises which have you arching under him, always eager for his affection. khoroshaya devochka. that's it. there we go. give it to me. his thumb finds your clit and start to shake, falling apart at the seams.

"said i was like that man, dochka," he growls, a sudden vicious edge to his voice as he works you with singular focus. it sounds important so you try to listen, but he makes it hard with the rough pad of his thumb working you over. "durak. that man would have used you up. spat you out. not like him, milaya," he promises, kneeling back and dragging you with him, your legs pushed up and back until he could slot his hard cock up against your ass, lean his whole weight into you as he continued pumping his fingers into your abused pussy. your pleasure crests, pools in the basin he's made of your pelvis, brimming. spills when his free hand brushes your hair back from your face, that soft care you've always needed from him. "papa just wants to make you make you happy."

[heartofjasmina]

These ask games are so fun! How about Dabi + incest? With like, a sis or young aunt who may or may not know who he actually is. Like he def knows and thinks she doesn't and she either has no clue or she does but keeps that to herself.

(Sorry and feel free to disregard if that's too weird/dark/not your cup of tea! Still love your work!)

I absolutely will not disregard becasue this is EXACTLY my cup of tea

He couldn't fucking believe his eyes.

You walked into the bar, the same bar he went to to pick up girls and guys looking desperate enough to fuck a walking corpse. His aunt- the woman only 10 years his senior who was the only good fucking memory he had of that hellish place.

You looked good, innocent and sweet and all the things he didn't deserve anymore. You'd filled out from his memories. All lush curves now and empty eyes.

But he was a man now. You wouldn't recognize him, not looking like he did.

Why shouldn't he be selfish?

~

You thought there was something vaguely familiar about the guy who came up to you at the bar, all cocky and brash as he eyed you.

"What's a sweet thing like you doing in a bar like this?" It was a shitty pick up line, but he was handsome despite his many scars. Piercings and a long lean body didn't hurt either. And you were lonely, you could admit. Your family had become a hell you wanted to escape- ever since Touya had died the Todorokis were beyond fractured. You barely saw your sister or neices and nephews anymore. You worked, you went out to eat, and you went home.

This bar was just a last ditch attempt to feel something- anything.

He was awkward in the bar, childishly trying to impress you by intimidating other guys, and cocky. All the things you usually talk yourself out of because you know it won't result in anything real. But this time, this guy. Something about the way he touched you- like he was seconds away from begging you to stay- made you feel wanted.

So you let him talk you into bed.

And that was your first mistake. Because the way he touched you at the bar was mild in comparison to the way he devoured you once you were inside your tiny apartment.

He kissed you like you were something precious even as he was ripping off your clothes. Got on his knees like he was going to pray to his god when really he was just nursing from your clit like he never wanted to let go.

You had tears streaming down your cheeks from cumming so hard and he hadn't even fucked you yet.

When he was balls deep inside you, you clung to him. He let you was the surprising thing. Even though he fucked you nasty and messy, letting his balls slap against your ass as you creamed on his cock, he let you hold onto him like he was your boyfriend or something.

"Best pussy I ever fucked, might have to fucking keep you," he growled in your ear like he knew it would make you cum again.

"Messy girl- you gonna let me cream you on the first date?" He laughed when your immediate answer was yes.

It went on all night, round after round of him folding you in half and stuffing you full until you were dripping his cum onto your sheets.

It wasn't till the next morning when he tried to sneak out that you realized where you knew him from.

You watched him get dressed in his dark clothes, noticing the birthmark on his hip bone. The same one you used to blow raspberries on when he was a toddler and you were only 14 yet an aunt somehow.

As he left his number on your nighstand and slipped out the door, you tried to reason with yourself why you should get rid of the scrap of paper.

But deep down you knew it was too late. You were already craving his touch, his tongue, his cock.

You entered the number into your phone and told yourself you were mistaken.

Anyone could have that birthmark.

Right?