#Incest CW | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

prettyboykatsuki · 7 months ago

Text

BLOOD FEUDS, ANCIENT AND MODERN | RYOMEN SUKUNA.

✮ tags ; no curses au, blood incest, use of honorifics (oji-san) abuse (mostly verbal / emotional), classism, grooming / generally predatory behavior, large age gaps (20+ yrs), blood feuds, imbalanced power dynamics, white collar crime, afab + fem!niece!reader, uncle sukuna, the word rape used in text, non/dubcon (not noncon necessarily), fingering, petnames (little one, kid, little lamb), thigh-fucking, and other things, very horrible and gross sukuna behavior 18+

this is very dark and it deals BRIEFLY with sukuna being very predatory to reader when she's UNDERAGE / young. nothing explicit happens WHILE she is underage, but sukuna does leer at reader and it is mentioned. please proceed with caution !!!

PLEASE HEED THE TAGS BEFORE YOU PROCEED!!!

✮ wc ; 10.3k (???????????)

✮ a/n ; thank you vic @saintshigaraki for always indulging my nonsense and also tomfoolery. kissing you.

i'll be honest lads this one got away from me BAD jksdfhjs. i think its interesting at least.I KNOW THE TAGS ARE WICKED but i promise its like. kind of sexy at least.

also yes the title is from the rdr2 soundtrack shhh

✮ synopsis ; blood is thicker than water. resentment, you think, is thicker than both.

Bastard.

An intimately familiar title, lacking tooth and effect. It's meaning eroded with time and usage - and a moniker you've wielded proudly for as long as you can remember. You don't recall much of your life before it became part of you.

The daughter born of wedlock. Bastard daughter. The only remaining stain to your family's reputation aside from your late father.

Your mother often tells you that you were her hardest child to birth. When you were littler it was a story relayed to you with affection, and but now it's with such bitter hatred you can feel it lodged in your throat.

The most important element is the predestination in it. You came into the world kicking and screaming, throat hoarse and violent. From birth, you knew you were half-forged with bad blood and came into the world trying to be absolved of it. It's shaped your life, your relationships, everything about you.

The other half of your DNA, the good half, is from your father. Before you were a bastard, you were your parents' only child. Your father was a good man. The best you know. An average, humble man. From a generation of other working class men with a tough job in construction. Your best memories come from when he was still alive.

A quiet life, untainted by the residual bitterness of your mothers heritage. You lived away from it, outside of it. The mother in your memories from back then seem like a dream now, some mirage from long ago - disinterested in anything but you and your father. Your mama and papa. Your father took good care of you both, and your mother loved him madly.

You lived as a normal family in a small apartment just outside of Gifu for the first seven years of your life. You attended a small local school and had friends with crooked teeth and messy hair.

Your childhood was mostly happy if you break it up into pieces like that. Blissfully uneventful.

There's a concise break of change of what your life was versus what became of it. Your fathers death the splinter in the wood, separating the two halves.

The worst of your childhood, of course, came in your fathers passing. Not just because of the loss, but what it made of your life. His funeral welcomed people of all walks of life with the most notable absence of your elusive mothers side of the family.

Another old memory you have with your mother is looking at her face during your fathers wake. The deep darkness of her eyes, sunken in and hollow. The first time you ever found her terrifying instead of comforting. While the world mourned your father, your mother—you think—mourned her life.

Forced into single motherhood with no prospects and no career, your mother decided it was best for the both of you to return home.

You think the worst of your life started there.

Your mother's side of the family has never welcomed you with open arms. You wouldn't come to know why until much later. You were a child then. There's no way you could've known about feuds that deep.

The only thing you knew was that you were hated vehemently, and nothing could change that.

Your grandmother's estate was always frightening to you in your childhood. You've yet to grow out of that feeling despite living there for the last fifteen years. It's remained unchanged since you moved in and the lights in the hall never seems bright enough. Jade green painted walls and white tile floors. Some rooms have classically Japanese flooring and heirloom paintings from the Heian era. Others modernized with sterile whites and grays and house plants that add no life to it at all. Stretched wide with tens of rooms, and easy for a child to get lost in.

A sinking abyss. A terrible place. A dark labyrinth. Anxiety inducing to even think about now. No place for a child your size or your age.

The best way to describe your childhood after your father died was cold. Removed from your life in the suburbs and placed among other rich kids, you became overtly self-conscious of the differences between you and them. Them being anyone who grew up wealthy and your other extended family. You were constantly reminded of your place as the bastard child. Later learning how your mother left her fiance many years ago for your father, your poor and worthless father.

(You theorize any warmth that your mother had for you was buried in your dead dads casket. Living there, among them, made sure she'd never find it again.)

Your mother is the most complicated part of your life. You don't have a time for when she gave up on raising you. There was a year when she tried, you think. For the most part, you lived in that house utterly alone.

At first that abandonment was miserable (as it would be to any child, certainly) but a time came where you were glad you saw so little of her.

Your mother, who you had once loved and thought highly of, became a pitiful prey animal in the four walls of your grandmother's house. Small and anxious and utterly hateful. A bunny born with some cosmic knowledge and horrific understanding that its destiny is to become food for a wolf. Viciousness between her siblings, no doubt fostered by your grandparents and their establishment, tore apart the aspects of her your father mended and ruined her. You were too little to stop it.

Blood feuds that ran bone-chillingly deep plagued most of the interactions with your extended family for as long as you've been a part of them. Your mother has exactly four siblings. Two sisters between her with her as the middle daughter, and two brothers. One of which is estranged so completely you don't know his name.

And the other being your Uncle Sukuna.

Your hatred for your aunts and their children came to you rather naturally. For every gala and ball and charity fund your worthless bloodline ever raised, came catty arguments and verbal abuse from the shallow mouths of your beloved cousins. You had nothing to prove to anyone in that house. You were detested since your birth and your grandparents made no small effort to show you through as much neglect and verbal lashing as they could get away with.

Rotten girl. Cursed daughter. You're the reason your mother is like this. You're the reason she is miserable. You should've been buried with your father.

Compared to the experience of your grandfather ripping into you at age ten for simply being alive, your cousin's commentary on you was remarkably uninteresting. You resented them for being nuisances, though, with the exception of maybe one who bucked it out of that place as soon as they could. Just like you planned too.

For a long time, Sukuna wasn't around enough to have a real presence in your consciousness. You tried not to think of your extended family more than you had too. You got used to not knowing about your relatives living there, but there was no one so elusive as him.

It was as if, increasingly, you heard whispers of his name at everything you were forced to attend.

The first time you ever meet your Uncle, you're freshly sixteen. It's the birthday party your mother throws for you each year in an effort to show how close the two of you are to the rest of your relatives.

The first time you see Sukuna in person, the only thing on your mind is how much he stands out from the rest of your relatives. He's a head taller than the tallest person there, and he's...bigger. He's not clean or neat, scruff lining his chin. Old, dark eyes. Visible tattoos that reek of disgraced son and hardly of prodigy.

At sixteen, you understood intimately what your family considered to be gold standard. Your uncle was antithetical to it. His very existence a paradox to the ideas you've had been hammered into you for years. Dyed hair, piercings, tattoos - his suit jacket undone to expose his chest. Lacking respect and formality and dignity.

He was a lot like you. You got that impression, somehow.

When your eyes met with your uncles for the first time, you had your second fully formed thought about him.

Dangerous. Like an alarm. Like a ringing bell, throbbing through your skull and pulsing through your teeth. Some part of you just knew that he was a very dangerous man. Not just a wealthy one.

The first conversation you ever had with your uncle proves to be the most significant. Brief, yet - tonal in all ways. The gold standard for how he viewed you. How he would view you.

How he would treat you.

("So you're the new brat,"

Your uncle is an imposing man. You are sixteen and slightly tipsy, which is the least horrible thing you could be since your other cousin is coked out in the bathroom upstairs. You sway, staring at him. You think that's disrespectful.

He's the kind of man who might kill you for that. Might hit you. But you don't find it in yourself to challenge your defiance when you're far from sober and even father form happy. You lean your weight to one side and hum.

"New bastard," You correct him, and take another sip of the flute of champagne in your hand. "My worthless fathers, worthless daughter."

Sukuna pauses, his eyes widening before his lips break out into a grin. You wonder if it's because you're drunk. You think he's staring at you. Your eyes are too blurry to tell but you think he's gazing down the low dip of your top. At the curve of your chest. Leering at the body you've yet to even grow into.

"Tenacious," Your uncle says, and takes a long drink of his sake. You stare at the edge of his glass, carmine eyes gazing so deeply at you - you think you'll throw up. "You're your mothers daughter. Through and through.")

The night of your sixteenth birthday, your uncle announced he'd be opening a business venture in Tokyo. All this time he'd been doing work overseas, but seeing family helped finalized his decision. You remember the look on his face when he announced it. Remembered his eyes searching on you through the crowd as he held the mic up to his lips. How he named you the main reason, one conversation and he grew so fond of his little niece. That you were a clever girl, and that even though he hadn't known you long - he was sure you'd go so far.

Happy Birthday to you, little lamb.

You remember best the feeling afterwards. How the crowd went nearly silent. Hundreds of eyes darting your way in seas of strangers. All the attention people hadn’t paid suddenly mattering, all the congratulations. You remember how they crowded you and how your uncle came to your rescue with a cheeky grin and air of nonchalance.

You remember feeling sick. You remember the chill creeping up your spine, bile in your throat - all wet eyes and nausea.

Your uncle is a dangerous man. And you, the uninteresting bastard daughter, had caught his full attention.

The next four years of your life would pass so slowly, you often wondered during them, if you died that night and you'd live through these days as punishment for the crime of existing.

A little after your birthday, your uncle moved back to Japan permanently - in a residence not far from your grandmother's estate. He became a permanent fixture in your life. Many things came with that reality, none of them being especially pleasant.

You learn three things in the four years you spend with your uncle in your life.

The first is that your uncle is more powerful than you can really understand.

Through conversations at your kitchen table about his escapades abroad, you learn nothing of the work he actually does. Only what it involves, who it involves - foreign governments and people much more powerful than your family. Your uncle has ties to the Gojo family, and the Zenins'. Your time here teaches you that they make up two halves of private militarized arms and they work domestically and internationally. The only thing you need to know about them is they are filthy rich, richer than your own family and twice as corrupt.

And Sukuna works with them. Knows them rather intimately, from the pictures you've seen of Sukuna and Gojo Satoru drinking together - two prodigal sons with silver spoons and unsettling demeanors.

The second thing you learn is that your uncle's power and influence extend past all borders and include your grandparents and relatives. In the years he'd been away from home, he's garnered a formidable reputation. You never cared to notice it before, but it's all you can see now. Every arrogant, vapid relative you have the displeasure of calling family sees your uncle as some sort of king. The golden ticket to grandparents approval. A wishing well for all their hopes and dreams - so long as they appease him.

They fawn over him. Sukuna knows it. But they're all so busy trying to get on his good side they never catch his subtleties. Never seem to notice the cold sarcasm and biting edge to his questions. They pander and peacock to him constantly, but not one of them has sense enough to understand him a little deeper. Except you, incidentally. That's part of your problem

The third thing you learn about your uncle is that he takes pleasure in your cleverness no one in your life has since.... who knows? Since your father died, you think.

And you are clever. A head smarter than the rest of your family and a try-hard in all aspects. You graduated highschool top of your class and got scholarships into better schools. It was never about proving your worth of course, but about survival. You wanted away from this place, and the only way to cut your ties completely is to carve a life for yourself. Academia, education, using your name to make connections - you've been working silently on it since you were in middle school.

The only person who'd ever noticed your accomplishments was Sukuna. In between his work, he'd visit you in your room. You grew close in one sense of the word. It was a secret kept between you - but Sukuna often reminded you of it. That he saw you for who you were when no one else did. That his interest in you exceeds your own understanding, and it'd be in your best interest to remember that.

Some half-way between threats and affection, for four years - your uncle remained at your side. Uneasy as you were, he'd never try to advance on you while you were still in highschool. Some part of you knew he wasn't above it. Rather his interest hinged on getting to know you.

Your uncle is above all things manipulative.

Rather he preferred to keep you on your toes during the duration of your time together. To get close but not too close. To get to know each other openly. Your uncle made sure everyone in your family knew of his fondness for you. He'd keep you close to his side or follow you around, always in public places with a million eyes. He'd whisper to you, laughed and asked questions.

You hated being the center of attention, so Sukuna turned it on you any chance he got. It made it hard for you to refuse him, but mostly it made it hard to go under the radar without his protection. It made it hard for your relatives to insult and berate you.

You hated it. You hated accepting his kindness, because you know your uncle well enough to know that everything in the world came with a cost. And that this protection is little more than luxury, promised to you as long as you played nice.

And you always did play nice. But you were cautious. Never alone too long in the same room. Never somewhere too late. Never drunk, never high. Always within distance of a door. Sukuna was a dangerous man, and you may be a bastard but you're no fool.

It'd work for years. You evaded any real alone time with him for years. Years.

Until earlier this year where your mother had made arrangements for you to spend the summer with your dear old Uncle - in his villa, far from the safety of Japan's main island.

In the years of your uncle's favoritism towards you, no one has been more pleased than your mother. You've come to hate her for it. Your relationship hasn't been good in years and for her to suddenly attempt to be your mother again felt like a mockery.

(It mostly felt like a betrayal. You didn't think she could betray you a second time after she all but abandoned you the minute she stepped foot in that house.

Like something possessing the corpse of the mama in your dreams, your seething hatred towards her started then you think.)

You'd spent years indifferent to her, but it was this change that made you hate her down to your bones. You were furious about the decision. Furious she didn't bother asking, furious about all of it.

About everything.

An entire summer alone with the man you know to be most dangerous to you. You wouldn't put it past Sukuna, to plan this around you - but it didn't make it any less frustrating.

("You'll be going with your uncle," Your mother says, hardly listening to you. There's a baby on her hip, your half-brother and a vacant look in her eyes. You feel your jaw tighten. "We've already made plans. Your stepfather,"

"Your husband." You correct. Your mother gives you a tight-lipped smile.

"We are going on a family vacation. Your grandparents wouldn't tolerate you here alone , so you're going and that's final."

"I don't need to live with you," You seethe, fighting the urge to grab her and punch her. You've never been violent. Your mother makes you homicidal. "I can find my own fucking place, I'm twenty I don't need-"

She slams something. Your half-brother makes watery eyes. She stares at you distantly, righteously angry. Whether she's earned that anger or not, it makes your mood worse. .

"This is the least you could for me. For us." She hisses, turning around. You think of killing her. "For all the shit you put me through."

"What I put you through? Fuck you," You admit, your throat burning like a star falling through the atmosphere. Then, through a shaky breath"There's something off about him, mom. Do you understand what I'm fucking saying? Where you're sending me?

Three expressions pass over her face. The ghost of grief, some kind of solace and then more vacancy. She swallows, turns around to keep folding baby clothes. Her voice trembles. She knows she's sending you to your doom. Knows what waits for you as soon as you go.

"You're going. We need this." She says, and still doesn't turn to look at you. Her voice is so frigid it doesn't sound like hers anymore. "That's final."

You shouldn't be shocked by it anymore, but it doesn't make it easier.

You slam the door on your wait out. You hope their plane crashes on the way there.)

You tried your best to worm your way out of the situation before the semester closed out. But Sukuna, three steps ahead of you at all times, made sure that wasn't possible. Your uncle owned a villa out on an island, private - and the bags had already been packed. You'll like it there, he assured you so many times, it's comfortable. There's a good view and the kids in the place will remind you of the kids you grew up with.

(It's hard not to notice the ways in which Sukuna tempts you into wanting to go. Though there's nothing, truly, that could make the experience a pleasant one - it's posed to appeal to you. A place to remind you of your childhood. You try not to think about it.)

Despite your protests, despite your vehement frustration - there was nothing you could do but go. If you didn't go with Sukuna, it'd be enduring 3 months alone with your grandparents. You could try to crash with friends but the friends you've made so far wouldn't dream of being so polite and you dare not think of burdening your childhood friends with your family problems. They deal with enough as is.

The last option was running away. You're desperate enough to entertain it. You do, several times - considering what the worst outcome could be. All scenarios end with Sukuna coming to find you, because he's crazy and connected like that. Even if he's deliberate in not displaying those parts of himself, you know his apathy to be a facade.

You know him well. He knows you well. It feels like a competition to see who can outsmart the other that you were forced into with no say.

So, come the end of your third year of college - a driver picks you up right as your finals are finished to take you to the airport. A private jet, a nauseating display of wealth just for your uncle to torment you with you're sure.

On the plane ride to a small island on the coast of Japan, you think to yourself that all gods in the world must've abandoned you before you were ever born.

The first few weeks of your stay in the island of Nii-jima prove to be uneventful.

For a small island, it's still governed through something related to Tokyo. It's not the city or even the country, some quiet and relaxing in between. There are people here who've lived for generations and others who are only touring. Your uncle's villa though, is far from all life - and a few miles out from a beach.

You can hardly understand what a single man needs such a big house for. There's staff there too, though less than at your grandparents place which you're grateful for. You've met six of eight, two of them people who take care of the yards and garden.

Sato-san is the woman you see most often. The one cook Sukuna has and the woman who's been working longest. She is kindhearted and sturdy, often bringing her grandchildren with her. She's quiet and motherly - and so warm you're unsure of how to behave around her. Your uncle is seemingly fond of her which is saying a lot. She speaks highly of him.

It's been so long since you've experienced something like maternal warmth, you're awkward around her. You try to not be too attached, try not to be fond of anything in this house because you know something horrible and dormant lies within it and you do not want to stay. Don't even want to entertain the idea of staying.

But Sato-san is good to you, with wrinkles and sunspots and a bright laugh. Her grandchildren are so well-behaved you wonder about how they were raised. A girl about seven and a boy about four, always quiet and inattentive. You've grown fond of them too, despite how bad you normally are with children. They're easy to be around.

You're frustrated mainly because you don't hate being here. The people are kind and welcoming and everyone locally is pleasant and good. You've been in the city too long, with insane people too long, and everything feels refreshing. The bus here is free and you can be at the beach whenever you like. You've made friends here - organically, with no strings attached. .

For the first time in your twenty years of living, you even have a guy you think is cute. It seems small, but back home everyone knows who you are. You've never had a relationship work out for one reason or another, but here? Here no one knows you, and the boy you meet at the beach with his friends is just a boy.

You don't want to like being here, but you do - and you don't want Sukuna to come back and he will. Nothing ever works out for you.

The worst of your luck you think builds on the edge of that thought.

You come home tonight doing a lot of things you would not normally.

For one, you've gotten yourself drunk. The reason being the cute boy aforementioned invited you down to the beach with his friend. You justified going thinking if you were going to be miserable all summer - a single good memory wouldn't kill you.

You had fun. Your swimsuit is underneath your short skimpy clothes, and you sat in his lap and made-out with him all evening. Got to pretend you were a normal girl and you got to kiss for the first time. You still reek of alcohol and his cheap cologne. Blissfully uneventful.

When you stumble into the foyer of the house with blurry vision and hear the T.V. playing, you know it instinctively that peace is going to be short-lived. You know that your uncle is home, and that he was waiting for you.

All the hairs on your neck raise. A shift in the atmosphere makes it hard to think clearly. Your lungs barely get enough oxygen in them to keep you upright. You think of leaving. You think of running up marble stairs to your room in hopes he won't catch you.

"Brat," Is yelled from the living room. Right, as if you'd ever get so lucky. You jump in your skin. "You home?"

Your stomach churns. You feel sick.

"Come to the living room."

You go obediently when Sukuna calls you, trying not to stumble over your two feet.You don’t think there’s more options than fearful compliance.

Your uncle is watching Scarface on the big flatscreen on the TV. The subtitles are on in Japanese though you don't think he needs them. He only barely turns his head to look at you, his interest piqued when he sees what you're wearing.

You feel sixteen again, self-conscious of your body and womanhood. He hides it even less than he did the first time - the leering. He notices your skimpy shorts and top, the bottom of your bikini. And he grins, and stares but doesn't say anything.

"Oh?" He says, calm and casual, glancing back at the T.V. "Finally went and had some fun did you? Thought all that studying turned you into a bookish little shut-in permanently."

You don't say anything, arm clutching your other self-consciously.

"Did you need something?"

He snickers, low and predatory. "Come on. You're here to spend time with me so let's spend time together."

You don’t bother asking where he’s been for the last few weeks. Your gut churns, feet heavy as they drag you to the far end of the couch. Sukuna stares as you sit hesitantly. You have no doubt he's going to make you move, but he's kind enough to leave you alone for now.

"Have fun on your..." He gives you another knowing look then laughs. "Outing?"

You aren't sure how to respond. "Just drank with some friends."

"Friends," He mimics, feeling the words out in his mouth. "The kind of friends that smudge the lipstick off your mouth, huh brat?"

You flush suddenly, embarrassed - and Sukuna barks a laugh. You don't know what he's expecting you to say there so you opt for nothing.

"Sorry," Is the only thing you can manage. Placating. He lets out a puff of air through his nose and relaxes further. There's an air to him, of nonchalance, that unsettles you more than if he was angry or unpleasant. Your throat bobs.

"You're a big girl now," He comments - sleazy and indignant. His indecency towards you, about you glints like a star. A sharp canine and piercing red eyes examine you from his peripherals. "Now that you're showing off it's only natural boys flock to you, hm?"

You can't explain the way this comment makes you feel. So much said with so little. The gap between is and has always been miles wide except sometimes it's not. Your uncle is unusual. Cold-blooded, manipulative, ruthless. There's no warmth in him in a comfortable, loving way.

There's even less of a normal relationship between you.

But you both exist in this space with... similar awareness. Of the world. Of yourselves. There's a conscious intelligence to him that's reflected in you - that you are both fractured parts of your grandparents bloodline in two separate bodies. That self-awareness affords him a presence. In your mind. In your fear.

You are undoubtedly related. Sukuna revels in that.

It’s rare to see that kind of awareness in your family. You’ve never felt threatened by people dumber than you, even if they had more power or money. Vapid and shallow and useless - there’d never been anything that could win you on. It might sound cocky, but it’s true. It’s been true.

It’s why Sukuna frightens you. He has everything, but above all - he’s smart. And hard for you to read.

You swallow, shakily - your eyes looking down at your hands. In a profoundly long beat of silence, the movie plays. A fair bit of gunshots echo through the loud speaker and they startle you.

"You scared? Come sit closer, then." He tells you, less than asks you.

You stand and sit next to him, still a distance away. Sukuna remains unmoving. You don't know what to do with yourself.The silence seems to stretch for miles and minutes. Sukuna just watches the T.V. and stares at his phone - occasionally answering messages. You stay like that for a long time.

"Need a smoke," He says, and it's not really directed at you. "Maybe later. Wouldn't wanna make you sick."

"People smoke around me all the time."

"Do you smoke?"

You shake your head, too tipsy to lie. He laughs at that. "Not even weed?"

You don't bother mentioning legality, you both know it doesn't matter between your lineage.

"Don't like the taste."

"How interesting. What a straight-edge kid. Most I've seen you get is drunk and this is the drunkest I've ever seen you. Still sober enough to talk clearly though."

"I just drink socially,"

"Ohh," He says, and then grins a little sharper. "A little shot of courage to fuck that little college boy then?"

This makes you jolt. "We didn't fuck—"

"No?" He looks genuinely surprised at this, though it's mild. "Poor kid must've wanted too if you came around him wearing that. Unless he came in his pants soon as you sat on him. Boys that age do stuff like that,"

The comment about his age reminds you of how old your uncle really is, and something in your chest flares hot.

"It wasn't that either—I've never-"

He cuts you off. "You're a virgin?"

You flush, stopping yourself from answering and he laughs.

"Ohhh, that's good. Very good," He grins, so genuinely pleased it makes you shiver. "I like virgins. Easy to please."

"That's—It wasn't for you."

For the first time in your relationship, Sukuna bridges the gap between you. He sits up and forward, his hand finding the bare skin of your knee. He rests it there, his thumb circling the flesh.

"Don't touch me," You hiss. Sukuna tightens his grip, but not threateningly. He turns to look at you that time, and you can't help but look back.

There's something in his degeneracy that horrifies you. It's fondness, you think. Genuine fondness.

"You sure?" He licks his teeth in a way that reminds you of a wolf. But not one that's starving. There's no desperation in his actions, but a self-assurance. Wolves don't often survive alone, but Sukuna has. And he hungers with the confidence of a predator who has killed all that stand before him. That's never been told no to what he wants to eat.

Your heart stops. Your voice a low whisper. "Stop,"

"You say that but you came in the house looking all desperate for sex and approval. You always look like that. Have for a little longer than what's normal for a girl your age,"

"I don't look like that!"

"You would've fucked that little college twerp if you stayed wouldn't you? Nothing wrong with honesty, brat."

Before you have a chance to understand what goes on around you, Sukuna changes position. You've never gotten a chance to feel and experience how strong he is - not like the way he's manhandling you now. You gasp at the arm around your waist and back. He pins you to the couch in a swift motion, not sure how he's done it, the alcohol making you dizzy.

Sukuna has never crossed the boundary with you like this before. Your heart is thumping loud, beating against your ribs. The source of it eludes you. If it's fear or discomfort or some other thing entirely causing such noice.

There's a certain blase in his attitude that makes you forget momentarily about the taboo and gives way just to the tension between you. You feel it for the first time with his body pressed against you, all hot and heavy. He smells of cologne, but it lacks the acidity cheap ones tend to have. There’s strong hints of cigarettes and aftershave accompanying it. Appearance wise, he has lines in his face like a man in his forties.

You don't know what's wrong with you. With a relationship so fucked up from the start, you thought crossing this line would feel different. You think you want to throw up, but you're completely calm.

You want to be disgusted. You want to thrash and kick and scream and fight. You squirm away from him, the threads of what's left of your moral conscience urging you to do so. Like a last ditch effort to keep you sane.

But there's just. Something. Something so inevitable about it that your heart doesn't beat at all. The panic itself feels hollow in nature. You are a rotted log and Sukuna has ripped the soft wood out of you with relative ease. But you’ve been that way for a long time, and nothing hurts. Not really.

It's relieving in the worst way.

"Get away from me,” You whisper again with noticeably less fight. Sukuna looks at you bright-eyed.

"You're a good kid," He says. The genuine praise knocks the air out of your lungs. That disgusts you more than anything else happening between you so far. "Interesting. A lot brighter than the other kids in our family."

Our family. You wince. .

"Stop, this is—" You don't know what word to use. He's your uncle and you're his niece and he's been gazing at you like this for god knows how fucking long. "Stop."

"You've got something going on behind your eyes at least, even if you're still just a wet-nosed and angry little housecat," He says, staring down at you. He's so imposing. His facial hair and his various tattoos. Everything about him, down to his bones. "But I can't tear my eyes away from you at the same time. You know that?."

You do know that. You cast your gaze away.

"I applaud how cautious you've been. But it didn't make a difference in the end. You know that too, right?"

You don't say anything.

"Clever little lamb you are, indeed. I like that about you." He hums, leaning down closer to you. His face is inches from yours. "You should be smart enough to know how this ends. But you know, you've been so entertaining to me this whole time I feel like I should at least be a little nice. So I'll offer you something. A deal of sorts, we can even write it on paper."

This catches your interest and he knows it does. He knows. You’re cut from the same cloth. And this place has made you lose your character, just like it always does. So if it means your survival and sanity or your morals, one comes before the other.

He grins at you.

"Come stay with me. Here in Nii-jima and back at my estate at home. I'll take care of your expenses and whatever else. I have better connections than the old hag," He says, leaning down even closer to you. You can smell him. He's intoxicating "You can be away from everything. I'll even let you have boyfriends and girlfriends over. You can throw sleepovers. I don't care. You can do whatever you want."

"What's in it for you?"

You can feel his knee press up against your cunt through your shorts and you gasp, hand going up to his shoulder. "This. Been thinking about this tight little cunt for a while now. You'd have to be at my beck and call. We'd be the closest uncle and niece in all of Japan," He snickers.

You wince at the reminder. You hate yourself for considering it. "Why me? There are plenty of women who are dying to fuck you."

He scoffs a little.

"Once we get you a little farther from the trenches kid, you might start to understand me. Wealth, fortune, fame - all of it's fucking boring. I came back to Japan prepared to leave again but you made me stay. Not much more to it than that."

"You're fucking your blood-niece out of curiosity? Your sister's daughter?"

"My sister never did anything good with her life except marrying your father and making you." Sukuna says, and laughs lightly. You hate how validated it makes you feel. Your skin crawls. "I'll have to thank her for it. She'll be pleased.

You make a face at him, uncertainty. Apprehension. Fear. Frustration. Everything you’ve been compartmentalizing comes bubbling to the surface and making your head feel weighted with lead. You want to kill everyone and everything including him. You want to run away from this place. You want to go home, though you don’t know where that would be anymore. They demolished your old apartment years ago.

You think spending a few years getting fucked and used might be less miserable than the suffocation of living with your mother and your baby brother and your grandparents. How much abuse you’ve endured already vs. what awaits you when their true heir starts to walk and talk horrifies you.

You look at him.

“You’re horrible.”

“Tell me something new.”

“I hate you. I don’t…want this. Any of this. I want to go home.”

You’re just venting. Really. You’ve made the choice already.

“Has there ever been a time where it’s been about what you want? I doubt it. But if you stay with me, appease my wishes for a while, well,” He laughs confidently. “You’ll get something, at least. Better than what you have.”

“The contract. Are you serious about that?”

He laughs at you. “Sure. If it makes you feel better, you can draft it and I’ll just have my lawyer sign. Bring your defenses. Whatever. Don’t really care as long as I get what I want.”

“And that’s me?”

“Seems like it,”

You purse your lips. It seems like a rash decision to make in the moment, but truthfully your heads never felt so clear. Even with the alcohol.

“...Fine.”

Sukuna hums when you agree. It feels anti-climatic somehow. Not that he’s not expecting your yes but that you’ve come to accept it so easily. It’s not like this takes away from the coercion, from the awful feeling of being violated. Sukuna was going to rape you whether you liked it or not. This way, at least, you get something out of it. This way it’s something you choose. Something tangible results from your inevitable doom - the fate your mother damned you to.

It affords you some plausible deniability too. In truth, you’re afraid for yourself. You’re afraid of what will happen when he finally does cross the line completely. You’re afraid you’re going to accept it, that it’s going to feel pleasurable, that years of repressing yourself will come back to make sure you never return to normalcy.

What will become of you when Sukuna has his way with you? Will you become a more apathetic version of yourself? Is it possible? Will you sober and feel like scrubbing your skin clean in the shower?

The worst outcome, you think, is nothing so horrible happening. The worst outcome is knowing you’ve fallen far enough for none of it matters at all.

Sukuna grins down at you. “What a well-behaved niece I have. Good girl. You’ll do well living with me.”

You make a displeased face at him, but your breath catches in your lungs soon after. Your uncle leans in to kiss you and you close your eyes trying to get away from it. But it’s true that your body has been burning up from the inside since you came back home - a dull throbbing between your legs turning you all kinds of stupid.

When Sukuna kisses you - your first thought is that he’s unexpectedly gentle.

You didn’t think he’d care about kissing to begin with. In your head you thought he’d tug off your shorts brutishly and fuck you without any prep. You were readying yourself for tears and pain, for screaming and crying - the sharp sobs of your own voice piercing your ears.

A gentle press of lips startles you from your drunk haze. You can feel the scruff of Sukuna’s face on your own, your arms wrapping around his neck instinctively. The taste of cigarettes and something else mildly smokey fill your mouth and make you dizzy. Sukuna tastes like kissing a man - or what you might’ve imagined that to be like. Not a boy, but a man. You feel his strength, your hands splaying at the base of his neck and feeling the faded undercut of his neck, the texture of his dyed hair. His weight shadows you, his strength making you feel fluttery.

He doesn’t tease you all during the kiss like you’re expecting. Nothing goes the way you expect. He kisses you in slow, short pecks and escalates to his tongue dipping against your lips - a little added element to his deep kisses. He kisses like he’s been doing it for longer than you have, with experience and finesse. You’re all but too conscious of everything little thing. About the sounds you make, about knowing when to breathe, about trying not to get wrapped up in the pleasant euphoria.

All you can think about is how good he is at it. Effortlessly good. You think part of you latches onto it to avoid thinking about what’s happening. Denial feels pleasurable at least.

You kiss like that for so long, your lips have swollen - sticky with spit and saliva. Sukuna has a self-satisfied smirk on his face when he pulls away from you, laughing at the flush in your expression.

You hit him lightly, looking away from his face.

“It’s a wonder you’ve kept your virginity,” He says, chuckling. “A kiss and a dirty old man like me could’ve taken it from you.”

“Shut up,” Your reply is weak. He laughs against your mouth, and you can’t get over the intimacy of it. You hope you’re deluding yourself but then he kisses the corner of your mouth. Hot, warm air tickles against your jaw and neck when he presses his lips there too and suddenly it occurs to you how real it is.

You don’t think your uncle is capable of warmth or love or anything that doesn’t come from coercion. But fondness. Maybe fondness.

He spends more time doing that than what’s comfortable. Relishes the feeling of you in his arms, his bulge grinding against your clothed cunt but not forcefully. Just with enough pressure to make you gasp once in a while when you don’t have a mind to fight it.

“I won’t take your virginity tonight,” He says declaratively. It surprises you. “You’ve got three months with me. It’d be boring. I’ll give you something else.” He looks at you then, then grins impishly. “What do you want?”

Your eyes widen, suddenly unsure of yourself. You push away, brought back to reality by the questions.

“How would I know?”

He blinks at you. “I know you said you were a virgin, but did you really mean in everything?”

You pout at him all of a sudden. “So what. I didn’t have that kind of time.”

Sukuna barks a laugh.

“Huh. I thought you were a goody two-shoes out of necessity but you really don’t do a damn thing in that house. Not even a boyfriend to do hand stuff with?”

“Ugh. No, alright? I don’t have time for that kind of thing like I just said.”

He laughs a little breathless, sitting up for a minute. You’re wondering what it means for you. Sukuna pulls you up along with him. He sits down again with his legs spread before looking at you. He pulls you into his lap with relative ease, until you’re half-way pressed into him with your legs over his thighs. You stare at him, feeling more exposed in this position. You get a closer view of his neck tattoo, realizing how far down his back it must go. You go to ask him what he’s doing - but he’s undressing you before you can.

Confident, large hands trapeze down your back as he finds the end of your overwear and pulls it off - leaving you in the microkini you wore to the beach. It barely covers your nipples. You made the choice to wear it, yet seeing Sukuna examine it so closely leaves you wallowing and regretful. Still, he’s silent as he does something similar with your jean-shorts. A hand lifting your legs up enough to roll the cheap, denim shorts and discard them right on the marble floors.

You’re still half-way over his lap - sitting on his thighs but you’re naked now.

You feel yourself growing self-conscious. Never mind that it’s the first time anyone’s seen you this naked, who exactly you’re showing it to makes you want to throw up. He stares for so long you wonder what he’s thinking, a lazy grin splitting his face. A hand nudges your thighs apart, moving your leg to give Sukuna more access to you. With an arm around your waist, his hand cups your cunt, rubbing it softly. You shift nervously. His thumb moves then, rests at the hood of your clit, pulling up to look closer at it. You hold back any noise as he examines you, bent pointer of the opposite hand brushing over the hair on your skin with a laugh.

“Unexpectedly, it’s pretty,” He says and your eyes shoot wide open. “Good job brat.”

“What are you,” You pant, your breath hitching as you close your eyes.”staring so much for it?”

“It’s mine to stare at.”

You don’t think of your uncle as particularly possessive. It’s more like he believes in that so much, so unshakingly nothing else could be true. You wonder if there’s more to it. He didn’t seem angry even after you told him about seeing a boy.

But comparing the two, Sukuna outclasses him in all ways that it should matter. He must be confident about that.

He spreads your thighs a little further. You’re half tucked into his side now - an arm around the back of his neck and shoulders. Sukuna ducks down a little, nudging his nose against your neck and scraping his teeth lightly against your throat. He doesn’t do much other than… touch you. Not directly. His other hand, the one not secured around your waist, rubs at your pussy but not in an attempt to pleasure you. It’s exploratory and intimate. He’s just touching you in a way that’s making you restless. And the angle he’s bent down, the proximity gives you a better view of him. From the side where you sit in his lap, you can see the tattoo again.

You shudder then, pussy suddenly clenching in a way that leaves you ashamed. Your uncle notices, though he doesn’t look up.

“Thought of something, brat?”

“No.” You deny, vehemently. He spanks your pussy but not hard. You jolt in reply, a shock traveling up your spine.

“C’mon now,” He hums, predatory. “Don’t lie. That’s not fun.”

“Y-your tattoo,” You say, suddenly feeling the influence of alcohol in a way you hadn’t all evening. “It’s…big.”

“Into bad boys or something, kid?”

You frown. “You look like a yakuza.”

This makes him laugh, more genuinely than you’ve ever seen him laugh. “Getting warmer, I guess.”

You don’t say anything to that. Instead spurred by the sudden confidence. “Why aren’t you…touching me?”

He looks at you surprised then tilts his head. “Is that what you want?

“I don’t want any of this but it,” You squirm again. “Feels weird.”

“Sounds like you want something, at least. Go on, tell your oji-san what you want.”

You scrunch your nose up at him, a familiar feeling of disgusting flitting through you. It fades as quickly as it comes.

“I’ve never put a-anything inside,” You admit, suddenly feeling self-conscious.

“That so,” He hums. His middle finger slides down the wet seam of your cunt as you tell him this. You nod but you don’t think he’s really listening. His hand is warm, and big - and his fingers are thicker than yours. One of yours may as well make two of his, no end to how imposing he is. You don’t protest as he starts to touch you. You simply take a deep breath, holding onto him a little tighter.

With your head turned towards him, Sukuna leans in again to kiss you. It’s deep from the beginning this time, and a little rougher. He bites lightly on your lower lips as his middle finger dips down towards your sex. Your insides are throbbing, hot and wet as you feel some friction. It’s the first time anyone else has ever held you in your life, every touched you directly like this. Against your will, your body is sensitive to the stimulus. Everywhere he touches you goes alight, and the kiss makes your tummy flutter. A tender feeling of want spreads you open, tears you apart right in front of him.

With parted lips and a heavy head, you kiss him as his middle finger dips down low enough to penetrate you. A soft gasp pulls from your throat.

It doesn’t feel unpleasant.

“I thought it was going to hurt more.” You admit, feeling him inside of you. It’s a new sensation but it’s not bad.

“It shouldn’t hurt if you’re aroused enough. And wet enough. You seem to be both.”

You frown at him, face pinching. It’s washed away quickly by the sensation of him pushing deeper. It’s hard to describe it as anything other than feeling something inside of you. Deep in a place you didn’t think it could go. You shake a little, trying to get adjusted. Sukuna does it carefully, slowly - thrusting in even strokes and keeping you focused on kissing so you’re not too conscious of it.

He’s not thoughtful, not really - but you can tell that he’s going slower for your sake and that makes your heart stammer uncomfortably. The last word you’d ever use for him is kind but he’s not being horrible and it’s unsettling you.

Once one finger goes in and out smoothly, your uncle starts to add another. You feel it that time, the stretch of it - gasping hard at the sudden sensation. Your breath catches in your lungs, hand clutching at his shoulder for purchase. He pulls away from your mouth, his breath near your ear.

“Easy, little one. Give it a minute.”

“It feels different. It’s,” You can’t form the words as two fingers penetrate you in full, slowly being eased inside of you until Sukuna is knuckle deep. Your breath hitches. “Not like it hurts.”

“It’ll feel good in a second.” He says assuredly, voice smooth and raspy against your ear. You feel combative at his confidence, but then a minute passes of him rubbing along your insides and something strikes against you like lightning. You pause, blinking confused as Sukuna laughs. “There it is,”

“There what is?”

“C’mon kid, I know you’re too busy with school but you don’t know something so basic about your own body?”

“What is it, oh.”

His other hand toys with your clit, rubbing it in slow circular motions as he gauges your reaction to the touch. You jolt from the sudden pleasure, getting used to it slowly. You didn’t realize how badly it was throbbing to be touched until he does it in full. Your mouth dries up immediately. Little shocks of electricity spark up through you as his hands go full in on your body. The combined pleasure starts to uptick, something building slowly but surely. It goes from not feeling like much to feeling like something. Feeling physical.

Your mouth drops open in sudden shock, eyes lidded as you moan unabashedly - unable to keep the sound at bay. You own a vibrator, use to cum quick and hard just to curb the feeling. You’ve had orgasms on your own but nothing has ever felt like this before. It’s undeniably satiating, mimics the feeling of eating something and nearly making yourself sick on it. You go slack-jawed, your nerves on fire.

Two fingers curled against your silken walls and another two toying at the sensitive bundle of nerves between your legs leaves little room in your brain to think. The only thing your body seems to remember is how to moan and whine - make these pathetic little noises you’ve never heard in your life. You didn’t even know you could make. Oddly enough, Sukuna is quiet through it. He makes grunts and little affirmatives but he’s mostly silent. You mostly hear the sound of your own voice.

The sound of your own wetness. You can feel the sticky sensation of your arousal but you can hear it even better. It’s lewd to listen too, wet smacks mixing with the pathetic bleats of your voice make you feel hot all over. Skin prickling with heat and sensation.

“I knew you were sensitive but haah. If I would’ve fucked you today, you would have cried.”

The thought drifts idly by about his cock and your whole lower half reacts to it by going weak. It aches just thinking about anything bigger or longer entering you than his fingers.

“Figure an insolent little kid like you isn’t much of a crybaby. I’m sure I can make you one.”

You don’t even think about asking what he means.

“Feels,” You make a gasping noise, body suddenly going tense. “Hngh, fuck. Feels so good, holy fuck.”

He groans a little. “I’m being too nice to you. I really should be balls deep in your cunt already and I’m not. You gonna cum for me, huh brat?”

You nod your head dumbly, unable to retort. To think of anything but the sensation washing over you.”Go on. Do it. Cum for your perverted oji-san.”

Something about the depravity of it sets your mind numb. Your body goes tight, every nerve firing off at once as you grip onto his shoulder and let the feeling of euphoria wash over you. Your whole body is so stimulated it’s numbing. The feeling of pleasure crashes into you, leaves your spine arching - mouth dropped open and nearly screaming. Your sanity melts, fades off completely and your brain feels like it’s gone empty. You close your eyes so hard little splashes of white show up in your vision, like you’re seeing T.V. static.

You think you scream. You don’t know. You just know that you’re cumming, hard, just from his hands and you’re terrified of what else he’s good at. You don’t think it boils down to sensitivity as the waves of your first orgasm ripple through your body.

You lay in his arms, sweaty and limp. Your vision is blurry with tears as you open them to look at him. Sukuna is rubbing your side, taking his fingers into his mouth. You look at him surprised as he does. He grins.

“Tastes good, kid.”

You flush. “Shut up.”

“Don’t think I’m done with you quite yet.”

Sukuna guides your hand to his pants, over his bulge. You gasp a little at it. His size through clothes is astounding to you.

“I’m not so generous to leave with nothing, you know.” He pats your thigh, moving you from his lap. “I’ve got a better idea than trying to teach you anything today, so try to hold still.”

You don’t know what he’s talking about until he guides you on the floor. You’re confused until you feel him position you - facing towards the couch with your knees spread on the floor. In doggy, you realize a little too late, your upper-half supported by the couch cushion. You feel more confused than you felt a moment ago.

Sukuna positions himself behind you. You can’t see him, but you can hear the soft rustle of his clothes moving as he stands on his knees behind you. More than that, you can feel his cock resting on your bare ass. You gasp, feeling the weight and size slide against your curves. Sukuna does a breathy little laugh at your reaction. He’s huge.

“Don’t cry kid. I told you I wasn’t gonna put it in tonight and I meant that,” He hums. His hands come to your hips, all of a sudden pushing them together. “Push your thighs together as tight as you can.”

You listen to him. You can do it with some effort despite how weak your body feels. You lean forward on the couch for support, bringing your knees together and pressing your thighs. You don’t understand what it’s for until something hard pressing along your spine moves down the curve of your ass. You gasp aloud as his thick cock pushes between your thighs, tip catching against your swollen clit. Your whole body is covered in goosebumps. Sukuna moans low in his throat, resting his head on your shoulder.

“Fuck, that’s it.” He hums, sounding pleased. “Keep them tight for me, alright girl? Try to at least.”

Sukuna is wordless as he grips your hips, your flesh dimpling under his bruising grip. You're silent, your voice threatening to spill again as you try your best to listen to him. You keep yourself tight and firm, your hands gripping the couch cushions as Sukuna pushes his cock between the fat of your thighs and starts a pace.

The angle makes you gasp, body feeling weak at the way it touches your clit with each bump. Sukuna doesn’t hold back at all. You’re not being penetrated but the weight behind each of his thrusts makes you feel like you’re being fucked. The bruising sensation of skin against skin - the hard muscles of his own legs smacking against the softness of your thighs.

Most embarrassing is the way the position makes you conscious of your uncle's cock. You knew he was huge before, but the way he’s thrusting. Where it reaches when he does thrust makes your throat feel nearly tight. You can’t stop thinking about the fact it’ll be inside you. You can’t imagine taking it in your hands - the girth and length of it fucking impossible. And he wants to fuck you with it? Take your virginity?

He’ll stretch you so open if he does. You can barely think of it fitting in you. When you do, your whole body shudders in a horrible and pathetic way - a new wave of arousal striking a strange chord. As he bumps and ruts against your clit and your mind fills with such lewd images, a new wave of lust starts to pour through you.

It’s unhelped by the feeling of Sukuna’s cock - getting so close. The throbbing with each thrust and the low, throaty groans he keeps vocalizing against your ear. All of it proves to be too much for you. It shocks you when you feel yourself grow hot all over again. Not even being touched directly and so soon after your first - a mere few minutes.

And you find yourself with all your muscles tight, your hand reaching back for Sukuna as you plant your face against the cushions and let him fuck hard between your thighs. You feel incoherent, stupid and so fucking horny. You’ve never experienced it. You can’t think of what to moan, so you choose his name.

This makes him laugh as he bends over you, his teeth biting your shoulder blades.

“Gonna cum again from this brat? Aren’t you fucking easy? Come on, cum with me. Just like that, take it. Fuck, that’s it. Good. Good girl.”

It’s the last bit of tension that pushes you over the edge, whether you care to admit it. Your voice breaks as a second orgasm washes through you - more intense but much shorter than the first and you nearly fall limp. You only barely manage to hold yourself up as your uncle keeps thrusting relentlessly.

You can feel him twitch hard between your thighs when his orgasm finally hits. You shake as you feel him squish the tip between your thighs - hot ropes of cum spurting against the swollen mound of your cunt and dripping down your thighs as he finishes. He smacks your ass as he finishes, making you yelp. Your whole body is rife with exhaustion, finally coming down from high-highs and low-lows.

“We’re gonna have a lot of fun together for the next few months kid,” He says, almost affection in his words. You’re too exhausted to reply, looking at him over your shoulder. “Let’s get along and do our best.”

“You’re a sick-fuck, oji-san.”

“And you’re a whole lot like me, aren’t you kid?.”

#sukuna x reader #jjk x reader #sukuna smut #jjk smut #writing tag #dark content cw #incest cw #dubcon cw #abuse cw #grooming cw #<- kind of sort of not really hes just gross.#THIS HAS SO MANY TRIGGER TAGS .. SORRY

2K notes · View notes

feyd-meowtha · 8 months ago

Text

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.

#dune #paul atreides #feyd rautha #dune part 2 #dune part two #timothée chalamet #austin butler #dune meta #feydpaul #dune spoilers #paulalia #tw incest #incest cw

886 notes · View notes

incognitopolls · 14 days ago

Text

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.

#polls #incognito polls #anonymous #tumblr polls #tumblr users #questions #polls about relationships #submitted june 19 #polls about sex #nsft #tw incest #incest cw #incest mention

265 notes · View notes

punkeropercyjackson · 1 month ago

Text

Why Batcest is not only harmful but also dosen't work with the characters

Jason has explicitly stated he's disgusted at the thought of kissing his brothers(any of his four brothers was his exact wording i.e Batcest!Jason is debunked but core Batkid!Duke is canon)and shown dislike for older men on the basis of being older men at multiple points,ntm he's implied to have a daddy kink on the recieving end but he's also anti-sa(pushing a man off a roof as Robin for running a sex trafficking ring and killing a pedophillic teacher for abusing one of his student's)

Dick is romani,Cass is an easian woman and Damian is arab and there's stereotypes about inherently being into incest against all three of those groups

While this rarely happens,Duke Batcest is racist too because of the deep,DEEP history behind incestous abuse on black people by antiblacks and incest fetishes presented as 'gay culture' are a result of the whitewashing of queer history to exclude and demonize black people and include incestous white abusers

Devin Grayson has apologized for her B.rudick writings and said it was a bad coping mechanism on her part she should've never written that only hurt her further and was offensive to other survivors on her part,especially ones of color

'Batman and Robin are a gay metaphor' is not something actual comics writers belived and was simply an innapropriate rumor spread by the pedophiles of the time looking for validation and the actual comics writers created love interests for Dick and Bruce to dispell the rumors because they were correctly disgusted and offended at the implication they were writing an adult man as dating his adoptive elementary school aged son and the fact the LI in question were female is irrelevant and not 'homophobic' as they were trying to avoid homophobic stereotyping with them in addition to the decent human being thing called 'hating pedophiles in all contexts'

While T!mcass was indeed canon at one point,this was all pre-Cass adoption when they weren't completely concrete on where her character was going but post-Cass adoption,these elements of implied romance between them were removed and completely ignored

Bruce's dynamic with Dick is described as a mix between brothers and father and son,Jason,Tim,Cass and Duke textually view Bruce as good as a biodad,Bru.dami has zero canon incarnations and with the exception of Stephanie,The Batkids all have multiple instinces of refering to eachother as siblings both individually and as (a) group

Relatedly(lmao),Robins 2022 was mid and a waste of paper for the exact reason of the Duke exclusion to pander to the Four Batboys + 'Token' Stephanie fanonization that is universally present in Batcest fake fan content.There's no Robins without Duke and there's no Batkids with Batcest.The BatCREST is the FAMILY legacy for a reasons sweetcakes

219 notes · View notes

pricegouge · 13 days ago

Note

Absolutely drooling at the thought of stepcest with price.

Like imagine him meeting and marrying your mother in a whirlwind romance while you’re out of the country. Like most military men it was a speed run through the stages of the relationship and he has a ring on her finger within 2 months.

Because of this, that and the other you weren’t able to make it to the wedding but you’re home now, so eager to meet this new man in your moms life who has her glowing and over the moon at every little thing he does.

It’s a shame he’s such a fucking pervert.

The first time you meet he lights up, a smile so wide it makes his eyes crinkle and you see a mouthful of teeth. He comes in for a hug that lasts a hair too long but you don’t even notice, too caught up in everyone’s infectious energy.

It only snowballs from there. Touches start lingering, hands are placed either too high or too low to be completely innocent, innuendo dripping from every word.

It’s mortifying how it makes you drip.

You’re in your room with your hand shoved down your pants, biting the knuckles on your other hand to try and keep yourself quiet, rubbing/tugging furiously trying to keep your mind from wandering to what John looked like this morning when he was cooking breakfast—shirtless giving your eyes plenty of real estate to land on. His strong body covered in a healthy layer of pudge and hair alike which made you want to lick him.

So now you’re rubbing one out trying your hardest not to think of your stepfather as you make yourself cum.

It works until he opens the door right as you’re hitting that wave, “Hey kiddo, do you—“

The John! that slips out was supposed to be admonishing, a chastisement and demand he leave all wrapped in one word. What actually happens is your voice hitches on a moan as you spasm and it comes out as a long, drawn out Johhhhnn as you cover your fingers, maintaining eye contact the whole time.

You see him swallow roughly before he takes a step inside, closing the door behind him, “You need help with something, sweetheart?”

I’m 🫠🫠🥵

<33

cw: f!reader (chubby if you squint but mostly size neutral). stepcest, implied agegap (reader is legal), dubcon but reader is definitely into it. masturbation. infidelity/cheating. daddy kink. bratting but john is not looking to tame it, stuffie humping, dacryphilia, overstimulation, fingering. slut shaming, if you squint (john is a brat and a slut enthusiast.) some angst, as a treat. abrupt ending

christ but you hate him. the immediate drop you'd felt when you'd, the high of thinking your mom had finally found someone to make her happy (even if it all seemed a little rushed) to the low of returning from your gap year abroad to find that pervert sitting at the kitchen table, knowing instantly he was no good just based on how he leered at you. you're no stupid, you've seen that look before, but your mom's completely oblivious, doesn't see the way his heavy mits linger on you, doesn't believe when you say he's no good. honeymoon stage, you figure; she'll come around, she's a smart woman.

but john does not let up as time lingers on, and your mom carries on with her blinders in place. you're not sure what's worse, watching your mother continue to delude herself, or returning from break every semester to find a warmer (if not far more inappropriate) welcome in john's arms with each passing instance.

or how it makes you leak like a sieve when he eyes you from across the dinner table your first night back every time, hunger growing with each passing month. you're ashamed to admit you think about it sometimes, the way he chews through your mom's too-though steaks while pretending to listen to you chatter about your classes. his heavy fist flexes around his steak knife when his eyes inevitably flick down to your chest - like clockwork, every fifth mastication, chords of his neck flexing. he breaths heavy through his nose, half-hearted huffs when you say something funny, always a beat too late because he's not listening, but he shares a patronizing smile with your mother when she turns to see his reaction every time and she simpers, always delighted to have her little family all gathered 'round.

she's conveniently absent in all your little fantasies, nowhere to be found when you're biting your knuckle to suppress your gasps, teetering on the edge of another frustrating orgasm in your childhood bed. it's always the same, the release so baddirtywrong good it leaves you breathless and shaking, better than any drunken hookup or tenderhearted ex. but the drop when you realize what you've done (again) kills you every time, drops you down a ravine you struggle to find your way out of for days. you take it out on john, usually, snide comments and pissy frowns. he delights in it, annoyingly. sometimes, much to your horror, he even adopts his concerned father figure voice and asks what's on your mind, kiddo? anything i can do to help?

he knows.

maybe that's why you're a little louder one evening, your mother gone out for some girl's night paint and sip thing you'd avoided like the plague. john looks at you like he knows what you're after when you beg off, but he can't because it's not a thing yet, right? he certainly keeps to himself once you retire to your room, banging around downstairs in his own little corner of the house. so you're not chancing anything when you unmute your video, and there's no real harm when your muffled gasps start leaking past the knuckles pinched between your teeth, dribbles of spit and drool slicking your lips. you're close, fingers working furious circles over your clit when he enters, the tail end of the question he'd had for you leaving in a quiet huff when he registers the sight before him, the way his name sounds from your lips - different here, breathy as opposed to the whines he's used to you spouting off.

it's the last thing you need, his eyes on you. shock and embarrassment seem like distant concepts to you here, at that earthshattering peak you always stave off as long as possible, your pleasure pulled from the man you swear you hate. (your mother's man.)

john takes advantage of your comedown, that mindless period after you've wrung yourself out thinking of him when you're good for nothing but twitchiness and achy, empty whines. he shuts the door behind him, lock pin turning into place loud as a gunshot. it's still not enough to rouse your senses, not when his voice is so low and soothing, his hands so heavy where he drags his palms along your flank like a spooked horse.

"thought i heard you calling for me. you need help with something, sweetheart? need daddy to fix it?"

you're not even sure what you're agreeing to when you nod, chin wobbling because that terrible well of emotions you usually fall into after nights like this is looming. you cling to him like a lifeboat, fingers finding purchase on the band of bare skin at his forearms. his muscles flex in your grasp when he pulls you into his lap, the bunching of his tendons never hardening - barely even trying.

the way he holds you is achingly sweet, not at all the rough treatment you'd always envisioned. it hurts worse somehow, the tenderness feeling undeserved. he doesn't seem to notice your dilemma, or perhaps is better at recognizing it for what it is.

"not what you need, is it? c'mere, let me show you something. good trick for those nights when you're on your own," he winks, far too jovial and conspiratorial as he plucks your big stuffed bear from the foot of the bed and lets it flop pitifully on it's back in the middle of the bed. it's stupid thing, a dumb souvenir he got you when the three of you had last visited the zoo. you're too old for it and you were a complete shit about it when he buckled it into the seat next to you on the drive home, but that doesn't stop you from giving it a place of honor on the bed.

secretly, you'd even named it after him, but you weren't going to make a peep about that.

his palms linger when he guides you to straddle it, some hard grained reaction in you flicking a low simmer of annoyance on in your belly. logistically, you know you're both past that point now but old habits die hard, and revulsion has always been easier to process than -.

well.

"let's see you ride it, sweetheart. show daddy what you've learned off at uni."

"stop calling yourself that," you bite, but it's rendered toothless by the soft feeling of the bears fur against your sensitive clit and john only laughs at you.

"yeah? you wanna sing my name for me again instead?"

fuck it. you'd rather his hands on you anyway, anything but this embarrassing display. "you gonna make me?"

frustratingly as always, john doesn't rise to the bait. "wanna see if you can even get yourself off properly first."

"fuckin' -," you hiss, hips working harder against the yielding fabric. it's not enough, but you'll be damned if you ask him for help, not when you're still balanced precariously on the edge of that deep pool and he's not helping.

john just tuts, swats your ass lightly, like he does when you're in his way in the kitchen. "language."

he doesn't take pity until you're whining, tears of frustration and an unspoken neediness spilling from across your cheeks. he's behind you when he notices, watching your movements with his chin tucked over your shoulder and bull-like breaths spilling across your tight nipples. his face tilts toward yours, soft lips against your temple as he murmurs encouraging words when he tastes the salt on your skin and tilts your head to him with a big palm on your neck, fingers framing the hinge of your jaw. he inspects you a moment, tears shining like jewels in your lashes and the spacey look in your eyes he manages to catch before your gaze flits away. he tuts again, softer this time - aimed at himself.

"oh, honey. can't do it can you? that's okay, i'll help. what you wanted from the start, isn't it? was daddy being mean?" but he's not, not anymore, words more like kisses high on your cheek, palms heavy but gentle as he grips your hips, grinding you down harder against your stuffie. he cants your hips back, arches your spine. it pushes your puffy clit further into the soft fabric and you whine, chasing it with his guidance. when he pulls you back for every downstroke, you can feel the heft of his erection between your cheeks through his jeans.

he says he'll make it up to you, but he lies, his ministrations only serving to drive you more insane, your clit dragging uselessly until your back is arched so hard you've managed to bend yourself back up against him, your shoulders knocking against his broad chest. he's murmuring more nonsense as he licks your tears away but you're beyond listening, too lost in the rumble of his voice and the way it twines with your pathetic begging - his cock, his tongue, his hand, anything.

"you gotta say it first, baby."

you're beyond asking for clarification, but john doesn't seem to need it.

"gotta use your big girl words, ask daddy for help if you can't do it yourself."

"oh, fuck you," you hiss, tension in your spine snapping, letting you sag down to the bed.

john doesn't stop moving your hips, just sidles up closer behind you to rub your seam against the placket of his trousers. "only if you ask pretty. i hear you up here, panting and moaning when you think you're being quiet. think that's the best you can do, sweet pea? won't let me teach you better?"

he's smug when you look back over your shoulder at him, leaning over your with one fist planted on your bed. he looks just as fuzzy as your stuffie with his sleeves rolled up and his chest hair poking out at his throat. you know from watching him mow the lawn shirtless how it carpets his chest and belly, how the plush skin there tightens with hidden muscle when he rakes. you wonder if it would feel as good to ride his belly as it does your bear.

"see you looking," he rumbles after a moment. "you wanna touch me, baby? you can, just gotta say -."

"daddy." john's bushy eyebrow arcs expectantly.

"was that so hard?" his voice betrays how long he's waited to hear it, and despite yourself you cave.

lying, you tell yourself you'd put up more of a fight if you weren't already crying. "daddy, will you fuck me?"

"oh sweet girl," he coos, laying down over you and crushing you into the mattress, his arms folding under your chest to hold you close so he can shower your face in kisses. he's still fully clothed, buttons and flies digging into your skin. "that how those boys you've been with do it? gotta ask for my fingers first, sweetheart. here, i'll show you."

you roll with him when he does, wind up with your back pressed against his front as he spoons up behind you. his calluses catch on the sensitive skin of your thigh when he hooks it over your hip but you're too worried about how exposed you are to mind, your hand ducking to cover yourself futilely before he bats it away. he says he wants to see all of you while groping handfuls of every inch he can reach, wants to see how well he's been taking care of you.

that neediness in your chest pulses with your cunt and you can't help but whine, fresh tears collecting unbidden.

john gentles you with more kisses, sneaks a lick to the pads of his fingers between them. "okay," he soothes, "okay, sweet thing. quit fussin'. i'll help."

and he does, fingers at once gentle and strong as he works soft circles over your clit. you're soaked but he dips down to collect slick anyway, rubs it into your swollen flesh like medication. despite only cumming once, your skin feels overworked and sensitive and his free hand locks like a bar across your hips when you flinch away on instinct, holding you still so he can make you take it as he finally works you through your second orgasm, the crest of pleasure coming embarrassingly quick and leaving you a panting, sweaty mess in his arms, a litany of daddy's the only comprehensible thing you can manage because now that you've said it you can't stop because it's him, it's john.

patience finally (finally, after all these years of testing it) snapping, he doesn't give you much time to recover, his voice gravel-rough and saw hewn as he spouts praises, contrasting his sweet words with a thick, threatening finger at your entrance. you hiccup when he slides in, tears flowing freely down your cheeks because it's sogoodtoomuch and he zeroes in on the spot that has your very womb clenching in record time, two fingers buried so deep in your cunt you can feel his wedding ring when it slips past your lips. it takes you by surprise how good it feels but it shouldn't, not with john's voice in your ear muttering about the boys you've been with being too small and eager to find it.

"but that's okay, sweetheart. daddy's got you now, doesn't he? he'll show you. gotta teach you so no one takes advantage, don't i? show your worth. show you how a real man treats his princess, hm? and we'll have to talk about what a slag you've been later, sweetheart. just a little reminder you can always come to me if you want to try out so much stuff. daddy'll keep you safe."

#stepcest cw #incest cw #stepdad!price #price x reader #dddne #asks

197 notes · View notes

branwinged · 2 months ago

Note

what do you think about the argument that the incest and dragons make the targaryens so much worse compared to the other houses that the comparisons between them are basically useless?

i will address the incest first, but i'm not interested in any argument arising from disgust. disgust has no moral value and should not be the basis for any ethical/political positions. incest is often predicated on abuse which is the material reason for why it's bad.

so, the argument is that targaryen incestuous marriage is innately more harmful than your average westerosi non-incestuous marriage. the strongest point in favour of this is: when your in-laws are also your natal family, there is no possible recourse for the bride in the event of abuse. i agree with this, maybe ned and brandon would've aided lyanna against robert, but that's one isolated (hypothetical) example. this is not the reality of many women in the main series. not for cersei and not for lysa. in fact, i don't think there is a single instance where the bride's family moves to interfere with a lawful marriage. the martells couldn't do much when rhaegar humiliated elia at harrenhal and then again when he disappeared with lyanna. hoster did nothing when catelyn's new husband returned from the war with his bastard son and shamed her with his decision to raise jon at winterfell. one can hold up margaery as the exception to this, olenna seemed certain that loras would've been outraged enough on her behalf to immediately kill joffrey and to avoid this eventuality they poisoned him beforehand. which was good for her, but why was margaery in such a position to begin with? because she was used as a commodity by her family in their political maneuvering, first with renly and then again with joffrey/tommen. and understand that the tyrells' chief worry here was loras becoming a kingslayer, any concern for margaery's prospective abuse was still secondary.

and this is why the argument doesn't work for me. because within the culture of westeros all women are a commodity, valued entirely for their reproductive capabilities, exchanged by men to maintain the male line. this is the very basis of patriarchy. which is why the real evil here is the institution of marriage. yes, we've established that targaryen women are trapped within their endogamous marriages, but noblewomen in exogamous marriages also have very little hope for recourse. they don't have anywhere to go but pray for their family's aid (which happens rarely or never, as i've pointed out) or their husband's death. this is not me going to bat for incest, just that there really is no significant material difference between targaryen incestous marriages and other westerosi marriages. but to speak of the former as a unique kind of evil, one has to tacitly go to bat for normal westerosi marriages. and that obscures what the text is communicating. the targaryens are not an aberration. westerosi society as a whole is built on gendered violence perpetuating systems of gendered oppression. rarely is anyone not brutalising their daughters. the targaryens do it by keeping daughters within the family structure for consolidating dragon power and the other houses do it by trading their daughters for political power. both cases involve using young girls to bolster male power. and as i've said before, intergenerational violence is an overarching series theme.

now, the dragons. and inevitably this notion of 'valyrian supremacy'. incendiary take, but i don't think it's a useful concept. the targaryens are obsessed with their bloodline, but it's not a fundamentally different type of obsession than that of the starks, the lannisters, or the baratheons etc. they all believe in the inherent superiority of their bloodlines, it's impossible not to when their inheritance is dependent on a continuous line of ancestry which they can trace back to remote times. yeah, then what of the doctrine. the doctrine of exceptionalism is actually doing something else. the doctrine is in-universe propaganda. (most) these people aren't simply egomaniacs with delusions of grandeur, they're shrewd political actors. this is a conscious play to deify themselves in the eyes of their subjects, as royalty is wont to do. there is historical precedent for this with the ptolemies whose sibling marriages were equated with that of zeus and hera and isis and osiris. grrm is very interested in exploring power structures and how they derive their legitimacy. giving his crown family dragons (and then taking them away) is a fantasy extension of that pursuit. see, "dragons are fire made flesh and fire is power". this is a world where the kings are in possession of terrible magic which they claim is their divine mandate.

grrm is using the targaryens to investigate the realities of kingship in his fantasy world, not to make a didactic point about this one noble house being the enemy. as the crown family they must be narratively distinguished from the rest, this he does by introducing the dragons, and as a result of that the incest. both simply heighten the violence already present within feudal power structures. devastating war campaigns for the benefit of the nobility have always existed, the dragons just make it possible to spread that devastation on a more massive scale. the dragons in itself aren't the problem. if that was true, dany—the last targaryen wouldn't have had her entire arc based around recontextualising them as a means of liberation. the power which previously served the authority of kings, now serving the dispossessed.

#posts that warrant seeking witness protection. well.#right that's all i have to say rn #not sure if this is necessary but ->#incest cw #melnibonean expys #asoiaf #valyrianscrolls #*[🫀]#asks

295 notes · View notes

tiktaalic · 1 year ago

Text

i dont think jensen ackles is grateful enough to destiel shippers. you do know that without annoying gay teenagers everyone in your m&gs would be annoying middle aged people who wear buttons that say wincest and proud. don't you. i dragged you out of the wincest tag. i can throw you back in

#etxt #incest cw

995 notes · View notes

foone · 6 months ago

Text

So people often ask if having sex with yourself (in a time travel/magic/etc situation) is masturbation (or occasionally if it is gay) but the real question is if it's incest?

I mean, you both have the same parents. You're basically siblings with yourself.

In any case you probably shouldn't have any kids with yourself. The kid won't be genetically identical to you, but they will have a far greater chance for harmful recessive genes. I could probably calculate the chance but I am slightly high at the moment and statistics wasn't my strong point ever.

#Incest cw #Incest mention

221 notes · View notes

am-i-the-asshole-official · 10 months ago

Note

AITA (I don't have time to unpack everything into a single question)

First things first, I am a supporter of consang AKA consensual sanguinity AKA consensual incest. I'm not interested in practicing nor is it a kink thing, I just believe there's nothing wrong with two consenting adults in a relationship, related or not. Any relationship can be abusive and some are more prone to abuse than others bit that's not an excuse to condemn all of them, blablabla, all arguments against inbreeding are literal eugenicist talking points.

Anyways, disclaimer aside.

I'm in this moderately big server where I chat once a week or so. But I do check the blacklist whenever it updates. And this new person had added incest to it. Which, well... I'm not against because I know for many its a triggering topic. But I still believe being against it is a form of bigotry and I can't necessarily just bring it up to anyone, so I try and determine who in the server I can bring it up with.

There's this other girl in the server I've chatted with once or twice, and I know the country she's from has comparatively high rates of incest compared to other countries. I send her a DM asking how she feels about the new person in the server, totally neutral. She says she hasn't talked to them before and asks why I'm asking and I just say (again, trying to be neutral) that I'm wondering what her opinion on their "stances" are. She catches on that I'm asking about how they hate incest, and ask what that has to do with her. I admit that I thought that she'd understand given where she lives. She doesn't respond, and the next day I discover I've been banned from the server.

I mean it when I say I handled the conversation as respectfully as I possibly could, and I wasn't asking out of ignorance because it's right there in the statistics. I myself am a westerner, but that doesn't mean I think the beliefs surrounding consangamoury in western countries are correct, and I thought she would understand that. AITA for approaching her?

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole #incest cw

918 notes · View notes

t4tails · 10 months ago

Text

okay yeah actually this gets its own post. if youre going to be anti-censorship you have to go all the way and let people talk shit. i dont want writing incest porn or whatever to be illegal, thats impossible to enforce, but if i think its done in a way that is disgusting and insulting to irl abuse victims, i am going to call it shit. i am going to say its fucking bad. and you dont get to hide behind the idea of your writing being uniquely personal and "just done for fun!" to try and make yourself immune to any criticisms people may have. you dont just get to have freedom of expression for yourself and not any of your haters.

#og post #incest cw

974 notes · View notes

prettyboykatsuki · 1 month ago

Text

brocon | a. oliver

✮ tags ; afab + fem!reader, unrequited love (from reader but not to oliver), presence of honorfics (nii-san mostly), incest (incestual roleplay and one sided incestual affection lol), oliver is not the older brother but he wishes he was, Too Casual About Incest in this one, oral (m!recieving), mentions of cervix fucking + deepthroating, cream pies, casual sex, 18+

✮ wc ; 2.5k

✮ a/n ; im reading too many doujinshis. everyday i become a little more insane. i miss you all. i also hate this guy.

c. consider this like a prelude by the way. im definitely going to expand on this universe rip.

also im dead fucking tired so tenses are all over the place. im gonna skip class tomorrow i think lol

✮ synopsis ; oliver is not put off by your brother complex. he probably should be.

Oliver isn’t very meddlesome.

He’s a captain, but that’s as far as he’s ever willing to extend himself when it comes to getting deeply involved with other people. He loves soccer, loves strikers, etc. Annoying shit is tolerable if it’s for the love of the game.

So in terms of his willingness to interfere, it starts and stops at soccer.

The same is not true for relationships. Never has been really. He isn’t sure if he’s always been like that. He got his heart broken in high school, before his career took off and get much time to think about what he wanted after.

He’ll never claim to be paragon of morality. Whether or not he’s pre-disposed for it, he’s been around the block and doesn’t take anything too seriously. A lot of what he’s down for just depends on where he’s at and he stands to gain.

But, he’s always been straightforward about it so whatever.

From experience, he prefers dating women with a lot to lose - career driven types. Long term, they’re the easiest to break up with because they rarely chase after him and have little desire for the spotlight. He likes cute, innocent types too, for different reasons - but it can get messy easily so he has to be off season to fuck them or date. His type in men depends on what he’s feeling. He likes getting topped by quiet, stoic men and likes topping slutty pretty boys.

Case and point, Olivers type is whoever wants to fuck him and he wants to fuck too. It’s not complicated and isn’t defined by any particular thing. When it comes to appearance and personality - well he’s fine with whatever. He’s not really interested in being exclusive. He likes to have fun and like freely, or something like that.

His only real criteria for sex and partnership are: discreet, sane, want to fuck him.

You fit one of those parameters for sure. You’re very discreet.

But while you and Oliver are sleeping together, it’s not him you actually want.

Oliver met you a few months back. You were by yourself in the bar of a nice motel and dressed to the nines, crying alone over a drink. The game plan was simple. He would chat you up, console you, and bring you to bed. You both get to feel good, and you get to forget for a while.

An attempted act of kindness and sincerity.

He did just that too. Slid up next to you easy, bought you a drink. You were mostly sober - told him you had to drive early the next day. Alcohol was just to soothe your broken heart. You broke down after that. Red-rimmed watery eyes, barely keeping it together - it didn’t take much effort for Oliver to get you to open up. Apparently someone you loved had just got married. You even gave a speech for the wedding. Sobbed a little about how you’re happy he’s happy but you’re devastated.

Oliver offered you a shoulder to cry on. Whispered in your ear real sweet about licking each others wounds for the night. How he’d be happy to help you forget. You went back to your hotel with little fuss. And he’s a half decent bastard after all, so he didn’t go too hard on you during the sex. Gave you boyfriend treatment as a consolation prize for your efforts. Foreheads pressed together, arms around his shoulders, lots of kissing and making eye contact.

That kind of sex is fun sometimes, at least when it’s not very serious.

You had great compatibility in bed. Some post coital pillow talk also revealed that your mutual interests meshed pretty well - so you decided to see each other again for the purposes of fucking. Oliver needs a reliable partner who won’t try to ruin his career and you need a shoulder to lean on and forget about your true love.

It was working out well for him really. And like he said, he’s not really the type to pry into other peoples affairs.

For better or for worse though, having frequent sex with someone usually gets you acquainted with random aspects of their life. The friends parts of friends with benefits usually means you’re seeing some part of them you didn’t sign up for.

It took three months of sleeping with you, around the 8th time you met up for sex, for him to realize who your unrequited love actually was.

He thought it might’ve been someone off limits from the way you spoke about it. Though you tended to avoid the subject altogether.

Had he known he was going to get involved with a girl that has the worst brother complex he’s ever seen, he would’ve reconsidered seeing you again.

Maybe. Or maybe not.

Truthfully, Oliver is less bothered by brocon thing than he thought he’d be. He hadn’t realized because of anything you told him. Just that once, you were laying on his chest when you got a call in the middle of the night from your older brother.

You’re not the sweet type, to put it bluntly. Oliver would categorize you as the working professional sort with a lot to lose - high spec and calculating. Aside from the night he met you, he’d never seen you act in a way he would consider needy or childish - even after sex. Or ever, really - even when something happens that might garner that response.

Seeing the way your eyes lit up, the way your whole demeanor changed as you spoke with him on the phone. It didn’t take a genius to figure it out. He didn’t have plans to confront you about it at the time. It wasn’t really his business, or at least that’s what he told himself.

At a certain point though, he felt like he couldn’t dance around it.

He brought it up on a whim one night. Regretted it because he liked your current relationship and didn’t want it to end, but he felt it had to be done.

He doesn’t know what exactly he was expecting, if anything at all. He thought you’d cuss him out or something. Tell him to fuck off and mind his business. Tell him to not be gross, maybe.

But he didn’t expect tears, nor did he expect the childish sadness that came along with the mere mention of you beloved nii-san.

That had made him wanna pry.

It wasn’t hard to get you to open up about it. Frankly, he didn’t actually give a shit about the incest part, so you felt safe enough to tell him when he asked. Your older brother was basically your whole life. You’re half siblings, abandoned by the same parent. You had a rough upbringing but your older brother took care of you and sacrificed a lot. You realized you were in love with him in middle school and kept it in since. He’s about four years older than you and his wife is a very gentle person.

Oliver isn’t concerned about the details. He’s nosy - so he asks but he wouldn’t’ve forced you if you didn’t want to talk about it. But it seems like you really did, since you were happy to tell him anything on your mind.

You were…different after that. After he knew, you relaxed considerably. He didn’t think of you as guarded until you stopped being that way and started acting more… docile.

Oliver doesn’t mind that change either, which is shocking for him. Usually you’re far off but after you cum, you soften up and act kind of… cute.

You’re a little clingier, and generally speaking - sweeter to him when you’re guard is down. It’s not like you’re doing it on purpose. You never ask Oliver to treat you any softer or get demanding with him. And there’s never an instance where he has to worry about if that’ll change because as nice as you are to him, it’s clear as day that no one in the world will ever surpass your affection for your older brother.

(Once, after sex, Oliver asks you what you like about about your older brother. The question comes as a shock to you both, but mostly to him because he isn’t sure why he thinks to ask. You’re happy enough to answer it though. According to you, he’s perfect.

He’s kind and thoughtful, gentle and doting, tall, strong and handsome. You’ve got little hearts in your eyes when you say all this. You add towards the end that part of the reason you sleep with Oliver is because they’re so different you can forget all about it.

He laughs at that, but he isn’t sure how sincere it is.)

As time goes by, Oliver never gets totally used to the change. As soon as you get a call or text from your beloved nii-san, you perk up like all the life has been breathed back into you. He hears you talk sometimes and it’s clear that your brother also probably has a bit of a sister complex.

You’re more open around Oliver sure - but it pales in comparison to when you get a call from him. How could a person be so different? He assumes the answer is love, but he can’t wrap his head around it having that much impact on your character.

Oliver tries not to think about it.

You’ve continued sleeping together out of habit and as time went by - you started to hang out for no real reason. It’s remained casual. You never want anything from him except dick and sometimes attention, but its clear that it isn’t from the one sided hope of becoming his girlfriend. And he knows almost too well that you don’t care for him in a special way because he knows what that looks like on you - and every kindness you’ve shown him is just who you are.

It’s not like Oliver isn’t keenly aware of all of that.

But it doesn’t stick until he offers up roleplaying with you on a whim.

He suggests it to fuck with you really. And maybe because he’s a little irritated by it. He wants to upset you a little, petty as it is. See how you react. He was expecting you to get pissed off, maybe even cuss him out a little over being a jerk.

That is not the reaction he receives. Instead you flush all over. Your hands fist on your knees and you get shy over just the prospect. He’s had you bent in every position known to man but he’s never seen you more embarrassed then the very idea of uttering the name nii-san in relation to sex.

You do have a moment of sobriety after the fact, hit him with your pillow and tell him not to be a dick.

But then, he can’t let it go. So he grabs you by the wrist and says it’s fine. It’s what he’s here for isn’t he? Always has been.

Only seeing it does it start to really click.

It’s the most intense sex you’ve ever had , and it doesn’t feel profoundly fucked up until you take his dick into your mouth. Hearts in your eyes while he strokes your hair, swallowing his cock - nuzzling it, kissing, it and being so devoted he doesn’t know if he’s the most unlucky man alive or the least.

You’re always a sight for sore eyes when you’re hoping to please him somehow. You’re a little haughty in bed in a way he’s into—

But fuck, it’s different when you’re doing it for your big brother. He’s never seen you so horny in his life. Touching yourself so desperately while you’re deepthroating his length, eyes rolling back into your skull as you swallow him all the down to the base. Moaning into it even as you gag and hiccup and spit.. Drool clinging to your lips, stretched all the way to the corners - wetness sliding down the curve of your neck and chest. Your face flush, damp tears clinging to your lashes while he strokes his thumb against your cheek and tells you the same few words over and over.

Nii-san’s so proud of you. You’re being so good for your me. Over and over, reinforcing it again and again. Hearing the words and just thinking of it seem to be enough for you.

It’s about the same when he does finally fucks you. Oliver gets into it at the end. Puts you in a full nelson and fucks you stupid, the head of his cock battering into you and demanding to be let in. You feel good split apart on his dick - pussy stretched so tight it barely fits him.

You always do your best to take him, but he sees what the affection does to you. You get so horny that you spread your legs without being fucked open on his fingers first. Your body is responsive to it. He almost feels bad for your brother, not getting to know what it feels like. Oliver is only playing pretending but your cunt squeezes his dick so tight, holds onto him like it doesn’t want to let go. It’s not even the real thing yet your body is keen on milking him. Built and bred like it was made for your older brother to fuck.

He’ll never get the chance too. Oliver relishes in it more than he can be honest about.

Once he’s inside, you tell Oliver in a lust drunk haze that nii-san can have whatever he wants. That’s when he knows you’re running on nothing but lust. And by then, he is too. You whimper when he moves - say yes when he hisses that he’s gonna fuck you deep enough to flood your cervix. Nod desperately when he offers to fuck your cervix open too.

It’s nothing but filthy bullshit but the words come out easier as his cock keeps slipping out of you from how wet you are over the thought alone.

It finally settles in when when you’ve nearly fucked yourself unconscious. Riding his cock with your tshirt pulled up over your tits, eyes closed and legs wobbling - saying it over and over. Begging for your brother who you love so dearly while you fuck on him with all the strength in your hips.

Seeing that makes him realize that he’s not a stand-in.

Only because it’s an impossible outcome in the first place.

It’s the first time he cums inside of you, and the first time you cry after sex. Oliver holds you afterwards. You whisper a thank you so sincere to him afterwards he loses his fucking mind, all soft and watery and needy. Don’t protest when he pulls you into a bath or holds you.

You stay with him through the night and he realizes right about then that he’s completely and utterly fucked.

It’s his karma, he assumes. Wanting a girl who has a severe brother complex is Oliver’s own special hell - hand crafted to make him feel as fucked up as possible.

But damn does he want you bad anyway.

#tw oliver aiku #oliver x reader #bluelock x reader #oliver smut #bluelock smut #incest cw #im delirious as fuck sdkjhsjdflmkj #writing tag #me when i post this in the middle of the night and disappear HEKSDJKSD

245 notes · View notes

yoichichi · 5 months ago

Note

hey what’s up what’s going on. sorry about this. so anyway big brother reo who wants to share you with his treasure and best friend nagi sooooo badly. you haven’t given into reo yet more than loaded glances you take when you think he isn’t watching you (he’s always watching you) and awkward moments when he’s practically cornering you; you’re too busy for that, clearly, always with some new boy that obviously isn’t good for you (no one will ever be good enough for you to reo). still, you get along with nagi really well, treat him sweet and dote on him and fall asleep on his shoulder on the occasion you both knock out on the couch. it’s cute! makes reo’s heart sing and dick twitch! he knows nagi would probably agree that they should share you but for all of two seconds he’s hesitant about it — what if nagi says no? or gets upset? or wants you all for himself instead? reo doesn't know what hed do. but something changes that — your new boyfriend, he fucking sucks. the worst one out of them all, not kind enough to you, not spoiling you in the way you deserve. it’s when you leave the house in the middle of a hangout with reo and nagi because of a fight with him that reo hears it — nagi, voice soft as ever, still focused on the game on his phone, “they could do better than that”, and it’s like reo’s entire world gets a little bit brighter. and when you come home, tears lining puffy eyes, they’re there to comfort you and show you just how much better you could be treated 💜 your boyfriend doesn’t have to know anyway.

Bambi……………. Putting this in my inbox is nothing but sick and twisted of you ..

Subject of my Adoration

Stepbro!Reo x gn!reader x Nagi

MINORS DNI

cw: incest, slight "somno" (reader thinks reo & nagi are sleeping, they are not), short pwp, reader has no pronouns/no body descriptions but has painted nails mentioned only once briefly, reo & nagi makeout, reader is a bit of a spoiled brat and a little annoying about it but it’s all Reo’s fault and he loves it, dark content - don’t read if you don’t like !

“He’s just so… so…” a sob gets caught in your throat as tears boil over and spill down your cheeks before you can finish your thought.

“I know angel, I know. It’s okay, we’re right here.” Reo coos softly onto the top of your head and leaves a kiss, Nagi humming in agreement against your back.

Your boyfriend sucks, same with all the other ones if you were to ask Reo, but this one really sucks you swear. Who texts their date at 2 in the afternoon, “be there at seven, wear something nice ❤️”, just to take them to the movies?

Losers, that’s who.

You wore your absolute best (you know you did because Reo told you all about how lovely you looked for your big night out up until the moment you left), had him rub the sweetest smelling body cream you owned onto your skin for what felt like hours just so you could smell your best through the entire night, and you even made Nagi help pick a new color for your nails (and help paint them too of course).

All for some cheesy action flick that was more blood, guts, and guns than dialogue. There was barely even any kissing.

What a loser. How dare he waste your time like that?

Naturally, it was all tears and whines the minute you walked through the door, Reo’s warm arms wrapping you into an embrace not seconds after.

Now you’re here, cuddled up nice and close between the pair on the couch, crying into Reo’s chest all about how stupid and awful and lame this guy is.

“Poor thing, huh Nagi?” His friend hums again, continuing to rub your sides softly and leave the occasional peck onto your clothed back.

You squeeze yourself closer into them and inhale deeply, letting their combined scent wash over you and comfort you the way they’d want it to, the way they hope it does.

Sleep begins to make your eyes struggle to stay open, and your body feels so warm and heavy, but Nagi’s continuously wandering hands and Reo’s random, soft kisses and gentle shushing is making your stomach stir. You move to adjust your position on the couch but find yourself stuck and unable to properly move between them. Not on your own at least.

“Something wrong, angel? Are you not comfortable?” Reo speaks softer to you like he’s making an effort to not wake Nagi, but you know he’s not sleeping with the way his grip gets slightly tighter on you.

You let your eyes wander across his face before you shake your head and bury yourself back into him, into them.

Why can’t your boyfriend be like him? Reo knows you so well; knows how you should be, rather how you need to be taken care of. He’s so tender and caring with you, taking the time to make sure you’re only feeling your best. And it’d help if they were as handsome as him, too.

The familiar twist in your stomach comes back, pulling and churning until you’re squirming in your spot again.

“C’mere.” Nagi sighs quietly, moving and readjusting with Reo’s assistance until his leg is slotted between yours and Nagi’s, arms wrapped around you both as Nagi engulfs you from behind. You’re sure Reo isn’t fully on the couch anymore, but before you can suggest moving to a more comfortable place to rest, you feel how warm and thick his thigh feels between yours. That in itself isn’t surprising, but the way you throb against him is.

You feel like you can’t breathe, can’t move, can’t think.

“Better?” Nagi’s breath on the back of your neck nearly makes you gasp, when did he move up so close?

He’s so warm.

You nod, unable to bring yourself to speak, and hope they’re feeling the same lull of sleep you were just a few minutes ago.

Moments pass and the quiet grows until you’re sure they’re resting, the steady rhythm of their deep sighs persuading your body to rest itself.

But the pulse between your legs and heat from Reo’s thigh won’t let you.

You bite down on your bottom lip hard as you try to find a less intrusive way to lay with them both, but it’s only making it worse. The friction and pressure pulls a sigh from your lips.

There’s no way you’ll be able to move without waking them up and asking them to, which isn’t an option. There was no decision or request you could make without getting an onslaught of questions from Reo. You don’t mind of course, you know he only wants to understand the things you need so he can be there for you without you needing to ask next time, but how would you be able to explain this?

You could never get away with lying to your big brother, he’d see right through you. And you don’t want to.

Thick yearning is growing heavy in your stomach.

Their breathing stays steady, and you’re a little shocked your wriggling hasn’t made either of them stir.

You feel sick as a thought passes your mind, but you swallow the thick nausea quickly creeping up your throat and remind yourself that Reo wouldn’t want you uncomfortable. He wouldn’t want you to be hurting like you are now. And Nagi wouldn’t either, Reo wouldn’t be best friends with someone who wouldn’t want the best for you.

Relief comes as you start to rock your hips gingerly, your body instantly hot from the embarrassment and pleasure.

Reo’s shirt bunches up in your fist. You’re gripping onto him harder than you probably should be, but you need him so bad. Need him to hold you and tell you how it’s all okay, how he’s here so there’s no need to fuss, you know your big brother will always be there to take care of you.

Your core starts to burn from the careful way you’ve been moving your hips, and you’re getting tired, but you’re not close enough yet. You need to finish but you’re struggling more than you’d like to get there.

Your level of frustration (sexually and just from the events of today) becomes more apparent as the familiar feeling of tears pricks at your lash line.

God, why did you have to be such a crybaby?

Reo's shirt feels soft against your cheek as you lean in and let your hips relax, abruptly deciding to give up on your earlier efforts. You press further into his chest attempting to soothe yourself (and wipe your face) with the soft and expensive fabric while you sniffle. He's warm. And he smells so good.

This isn't helping.

Before you can fully shut your eyes and get comfortable, gentle and familiar hands previously resting on your waist slide down to now sit on your hips.

"Angel,", Reo's soft voice hums against the top of your head, "is there something you need?"

You feel your heart race at the sound of his voice. When did he wake up? Did he ever fall asleep? Is Nagi still awake, too? What would you say to them, what could you say?

You crane your neck to look up at him with wet eyes, contemplating what to say. His eyes look heavy, but not tired, not exactly. Just... focused, you could guess.

Too many moments of silence pass as you try to think until a growing dread begins to bloom in your stomach.

You could never lie to your big brother. You couldn't even try.

You nod your head haltingly but turn your eyes down to stare at the wet patch from your tears on his shirt.

What else is there to say to him besides yes, you need him.

Without hesitation, the same familiar pair of hands grip your hips tighter, beginning to wiggle you back and forth on the soft meat of his upper thigh.

Reo always knew what you needed without having to ask.

The pit of dread blossoms into a thick yearning, and you let the small smile of relief that comes stay on your face, Reo would want to know you're feeling good. You can never hide that from him, that's your one rule.

Always be honest about your happiness with me, because how else will I learn to take care of you?

"You still awake, Nagi?" A hum between your shoulder blades and a gentle pinch to your sides serves as his response, effectively pulling you out of the foggy haze overcoming you, and instinctively making you jump.

Taking that as the okay, Nagi's own large hands rest over Reo's, letting him see how you like it best. You look down to watch the way they're both gripping you, how good Reo is at teaching Nagi the right pace, all while Reo was learning himself, too. Nagi's hand caresses his friend's, his fingers rubbing along the tops of Reo's absentmindedly.

"Reo, do they like to be kissed?" Your face gets hot at the implication and the way Nagi speaks about you like you aren't in the room, all while still staring right at you.

Without saying a word, one of Reo's hands slides away from your body to tug his friend by the chin towards himself gently, regaining Nagi's attention quickly before slotting his lips between his. You can tell they've done this before from the seamless way Nagi exhales and slides his tongue into Reo's mouth, like he's been waiting for the same relief you have.

"Mhm,", Reo hums as the pair pull apart just far enough where their lips still brush as he speaks, "they do, just like that."

You say nothing as Nagi's big eyes stare into yours, letting him adjust and get closer until you're engulfed by him.

His tall, wide frame encompassing yours as he kisses you slowly. He's more gentle than you were expecting, more careful, taking his time to taste you without making you feel so intruded upon.

You feel like you're on fire. Everything is hot and stuffy, Nagi's spit mixing with yours as two pairs of hands roam freely across your body, no longer caring where they travel to.

As wrong as the voice in the back of your mind kept telling you this was, nothing was louder than the growing ache between your legs. The one you knew Reo could quiet. At least temporarily.

All you need to do is ask.

"Reo."

His eyes roam across your figure.

"Shh, I know."

Warm fingers sneak between yours and Nagi's bodies, intertwined, to rub you where you need him most. You breathe a soft moan into Nagi's mouth.

"There you go, Reo. Looks like they like that." Despite his choice of words, he almost sounds like cocky. Like he knows Reo knows you're feeling good, he just likes saying it.

He continues to kiss you, moving until Reo can reach you more comfortably, kissing down your neck until your thighs start to shake and attempt to clamp shut. You didn't realize how pent up and close you already were.

Your lips feel cold as Nagi pulls away, the whine close to spilling from your lips swallowed by Reo as he leans down to take his spot, groaning lewdly at the feeling of what it's like to finally kiss you.

Nagi watches you come undone. He twitches at the way you sigh and tug at Reo, rolling your hips into his palm and mindlessly repeating thank you as you catch your breath.

"It's my turn now, right?"

——————

271 notes · View notes