#non con incest

[melaniem54]

Review: Fool Me Twice (Court of Pain Book 2) by Ariana Nash

Rating: 4.5 🌈 Well, that was brutal. And ultimately satisfying. It’s been a while, from the beginning of the year, since the first book of this two story series was released . So it took me a while to mentally catch up on the events that Fool Me Twice opens up on. That the cliffhanger that Fool Me Once ends on and this novel opens up with. Our three characters , Lark, Arin, and Draven,…

[diejager]

somnophilia with big brother simon?..😵‍💫

Cw: somnophilia, DARKFIC, INCEST, DUB-CON/NON-CON, creampie, unprotected sex, PinV, cockwarming, tell me if I missed any.

Slotting himself against you, he slipped into you without any struggle, basking in the warmth of your gummy walls. You were still slick and stretched from earlier, bending you over his desk and fingering you until you stopped squirming, compliant and soft under him, your cunt clenching around his fingers while you bucked backed and mewled softly. You fit so well in his arms, pressing your back to his chest as he spooned you, panting against your nape and mumbling little praises.

He rolled his hips, the fat head of his cock tapping your cervix, making his groan in pleasant appreciation. Pulling back, he gave a shallow and hard thrust, plunging back into you with a wet slap, his balls hanging from the side of his thigh. He soaked in your slick, feeling it drizzle down the thick base and wetting his groomed hair. You writhed in your sleep, walls fluttering around him, pulsing with a hot and strong beat, little moans slipping through your closed lips.

He fucked your slow but roughly, pulling out gently, throbbing inside of you before he rammed in, his tip kissing your cervix. It pulled sleepy mewls from you and grunting moans from him, his eyes closing in the sheer ecstasy of you. He missed this, feeling your sweet cunt milk him dry and pumping you full of cum, or pounding you into the mattress of your bed, but you’d been on a month long Op away from him. His little sis was taken away from him by another Task Force needing a temporary medic for a specific mission, gone for a month with little communication for classified reasons.

He’d shut down, the ice that had thawed had frozen over again, and he couldn’t jerk himself off when you were gone, leaving him to stalk the walls with heavy balls and a thick and neglected cock that demanded your attention. His mouth thirsted for a taste of your lips and your tangy slick, his hands itched to grip your hips and thighs and his cock ached to find the warmth of your cunt and hands. Nothing he’d done would soothe him, neither sleep nor pleasuring himself to the thought of you, naked on his bed, but it flet blasphemous to think of you in such ways.

What a hypocrite —a disgusting hypocrite. He would damn himself for imagining you in such ways despite being unable to control his thought and his actions when he ploughed into you, fucking his cum deeper. He felt you stir when he gave a particularly harsh thrust, jerking your whole body and wrenching a whimper from you.

“Si..?” Your voice was lathered in sleep, raspy and tired from just returning from your mission.

“ ‘m taking care of it, lovie. Don’t worry,” he groaned, gasping and rutting against you, his cock’s throbbing growing in strength and pace.

“Ah- o-okay.”

Without any struggle, your eyes closed and you went back to sleep, mind succumbing to your exhaustion and his manhandling, letting him do as he wished with you. Giving a few short and hard thrusts, growling in your ear, little praises about you being so good for him, he came after bottoming out, his balls tightening and cock twitching. Spurting cum from his sensitive slit, he felt your walls clamp down on him, pulling and coaxing all the load he had to offer you. He softened, limp shaft laying snugly inside your tight, painted cunt, mumbling incoherent words before he calmed down.

“Thank you,” he gasped, breathing loudly in your ear, “Thank you.”

[dilucs-princess]

hey princess, i've got a quick idea i want to send before i head off for the night.

with what you said about sae, rin and reader yesterday, think of the reader and sae meeting for a first date where the reader spikes sae's drinks or food, and when sae realizes it and tries to get home safely, he luckily runs into rin nearby. sae is too dizzy and too close to unconsciousness to ask rin why he's in the area, just grateful that he can help him get home safely. but when they're inside the house, reader just walks in like the house belongs to them and rin, who planned it all with them, lets them have their fun with his brother before it's his turn

- 🦥

Oh yes. You and Rin had planned this for weeks. He felt too guilty to drug his brother so he asked you to do it for him, providing you with the drugs ofc <3

Ofc you put aphrodisiacs in his drink too so he can't deny the pleasure you and Rinnie give him <3

Rin tells you what to do the whole time you rape his brother, asking you to be gentle with him, to try and jot hurt or ruin him too much! You just roll your eyes but do as you're told as you force Sae to eat you out. Sae is too out if it, giggling on a high and too pussydrunk to do anything about it, just sloppily sliding his tongue around your cunt.

Rin grins as you orgasm, gently pushing you away to kiss his brother desperately, rubbing at Sae' neglected cock. Sae knows somewhere that this is is little brother Nd it shouldn't happen, pushing him away very gently. But you grab Sae's wrists as Rin starts to prep him.

Sae can only cry as his baby brother forces himself into him <3

[wastemanjohn]

but isn't it fun if dean *isn't* a good obedient boy when he's getting his brains fucked out by john

isnt it so fun to think of dean clawing john's back to pieces, splitting his skin raw and bleeding, leaving those marks to sting and chafe open again under his clothes for days to come

and isn't it so fun to think of dean biting like an unhinged dog when he's worked up enough, craning his head with its shut tight-eyes off the pillow to sink his teeth deep into that fragile spot of john's between his neck and his collarbone, or his arm, or his shoulder, or whatever his wild panting mouth can reach

and gah so fun to think that sometimes dean pushes back a little, like sometimes he doesn't *want* to keep the noise down when they're fucking somewhere risky, he doesn't *feel like* getting himself ready in advance so john will have to do it instead, like he seems to be doing whatever he can to make this harder on them both

... and like... isn't it so SO fun to think that john lets dean get away with all of it... because john knows he deserves hell's top special for doing this to his boy in the first place, and that this is the closest dean can get to saying no.

[negans-lucille-tblr]

Look What You Made Me Do | Step Dad!Negan | Dark Oneshot

Summary: Negan’s there to welcome home his step-daughter after her first date, but he doesn’t like what she chose to wear, and decides to show her what the consequences of dressing like a slut might be. 

Rating: 18+ (Dark smut)

Pairing(s): Step Dad!Negan x Step Daughter!Rachel

WARNINGS: non con, forced sex, step-incest, dirty talking, p in v, daddy kink, forced blowjob, slapping, victim blaming, forced loss of virginity, mentions of blood, crying during sex, pain

WC: ± 2K A/Ns: This was commissioned by the lovely @ruewritesstuff, and it almost made me feral. So enjoy &lt;3

Negan Masterlist || Want your own commission? Find out more here!

Negan’s fingers bounce on the arm of the couch as he watches the time, the second hand on the clock ticking around, the minute hand drawing closer and closer to the twelve. The house is practically silent, not that he’d hear his wife from where he’s sitting, anyway. Their house is fairly large, and there are about four doors closed between them right now. He’d encouraged her to go to bed after her fifth yawn sitting beside him, and he knew it would be a matter of minutes before she was knocked out on the Xanax she needs to take to help her sleep. He’d insisted he could wait up until her daughter returned home from her date, but now he’s growing impatient. 

He hadn’t been there, still stuck in work when whatever college boy showed up to take his eighteen year old step-daughter on a date. What business has some college boy got with her, anyway? Negan’s fairly sure she’s a virgin, and she’s not had a boyfriend that he’s been aware of in the two years he’s been in her life. But then Negan scoffs to himself. Of course a college boy would be interested in a naive, virgin senior. Even Negan finds himself interested. But that’s different, because he’s older and wiser, and he can protect her from all the boys that wanna fuck her and leave her heart broken. The thought of someone taking her innocence away and not even having the common decency to call her back makes his skin crawl. Though, if Negan’s truly honest with himself, maybe that’s just the jealousy talking. What he wouldn’t give to be the one to take her innocence, and he’ll be fucked off if some frat boy beats him to it. 

He hasn’t gotten his dick wet in months. His wife hasn’t shown an interest since she half assed giving him a handjob on his birthday, and the longer he goes only thinking about sinking his cock into someone as tight and warm as his little girl, the more desperate he is for relief. He would go out and find some random slut to fuck, but he wants to save himself for her, just like she’s been saving herself for him; she just doesn’t know it yet. 

Negan’s attention is once again drawn to the clock, and he notices that it’s eleven PM on the dot, and as if on cue, he hears the rumble of a car engine and rises to his feet to see a guy opening his passenger door, and Rachel climbing out of it. She looks good in the mini skirt and shirt she decided to wear, her red hair tied up as Negan imagines wrapping it around his fist as she chokes on his cock, and he grunts when the guy takes her hand and walks her up the garden path to the front door. Negan stalks to the door and opens it just before they can kiss, and he’s secretly elated with his timing, and far less impressed with theirs. 

“You’re late,” he grunts out, and Rachel blushes, clearing her throat. 

“I’m sorry,” she mumbles. 

“It’s my fault, sir, I didn’t realize the time, we were star gazing.” 

Negan’s nose crinkles at the very idea of Rachel and this boy laying on some shitty picnic blanket looking up at some fucking stars like they’re in some rom com, bet the pervert even tried to get his hand up her skirt. Maybe he even succeeded, and just the thought has Negan slamming the door in the boy’s face the second Rachel crosses the threshold. 

“I’m not even five minutes late,” Rachel argues, narrowing her blue eyes at him. 

“I don’t fucking care, late is late,” he growls, noticing her lipstick is far more faded than it probably should be, and he wonders if she wore it off by kissing that low-life, or maybe even worse; sucking his cock. “What the fuck are you even wearing? You look like a whore.” 

Rachel looks down her body and tugs on the hem of her skirt, only blushing more violently, and she swallows thickly. 

“Mom said I look nice,” she mumbles, looking around as if to seek out her mother. 

“Well your Mom doesn’t fucking care if you get fucking raped in the back of some college boy’s shitty Sedan then, does she?” 

“Callum wasn’t like that,” Rachel insists, stubbornly. “He didn’t even kiss me.” 

“Yeah fucking right,” Negan scoffs. “Look at the fuckin’ state of you,” he growls, reaching out to smear her lipstick some more. “Bet you sucked his cock the whole fucking ride home.” 

“What?” Rachel blinks, shaking her head as horror washes over her face at the very accusation. “No, nothing like that happened, I’m still a virgin.” 

“Mhm,” Negan nods, pretending to believe her, the idea that she might not be only making him angrier. “Of course you fucking are. You think you can fuckin’ lie to me?” 

“I’m not lying, Negan, I swear,” she whimpers, tears filling her eyes. “This was only our first date… my first date,” she explains. 

“Well if you didn’t fuck him you were still fuckin’ asking for it,” Negan accuses. “Weren’t you?” He prompts, making her shake her head. “Of course you were, look at you,” he goads, reaching forward, playing with the slightly open neckline of her shirt. “Your tits are fucking hanging out, and your skirt is so fucking short, I can nearly see your panties, if you’re even wearing any.” 

He can’t help himself from lifting her skirt to find out for sure, and sure enough he can see simple white cotton panties, and she whimpers, pressing her thighs together. Instantly, his cock begins to harden, and he resists the very real urge to tear the cotton from her body and bend her over the couch, fucking into her so hard she’ll feel him for days. Maybe he should do that, maybe then she’ll think twice about letting some random boy take her out. 

“Do you even fucking know what you’re doing?” he asks. “Do you fucking know all those thoughts you put into men’s heads when you dress like this?” Rachel weakly shakes her head, and Negan’s cock only throbs harder. He reaches for her hand and instantly presses it against his crotch. “This. This is what you fucking do to us. Do you think I want to be this fucking hard for my own step-daughter?” Rachel’s tears now stream down her cheeks as she shakes her head and her hand trembles beneath his. “No, of course I fucking don’t, but you don’t fucking care about that, do you? You just want to wear your slutty little clothes, and it’s gonna get you into real fucking trouble one day, sweetheart. Maybe I should teach you a lesson. On your fucking knees.” 

Rachel is now crying aloud as she slowly lowers herself to her knees, and Negan wastes no time freeing his aching cock from his jeans, reaching down to once again take her hand and force her to wrap it around his cock. He works her hand up and down his shaft to show her what to do, but quickly realizes she won’t do it unaided, so he keeps his hand wrapped around hers. 

“I’m sorry, Daddy, I’m sorry,” she begins to sob, and Negan grunts at the feeling of her skin on his, and the sound of ‘Daddy’ on her lips like that’s going to save her. But the name only turns him on more. 

“You fuckin’ will be,” he promises, “Open that mouth.” She whines, squeezing her eyes shut, and Negan instantly reaches forward and tugs her hair hard, slapping her across the face, making her cry out in pain. “I said open that fucking mouth.” 

With a shaky jaw, Rachel complies, and he wastes no time pushing his cock into her mouth, fucking into the back of her throat, making her gag and splutter around him, spit already indignantly dribbling down her chin and front as it mixes with her tears. 

“Look what you made me do,” he snarls, gasping for breath with each punch at the back of her throat. Fuck, this feels better than he could’ve imagined. “This is all your fault and you fuckin’ know it.” 

Rachel continues to cry, but the sound of it only seems to stir Negan on more, his cock throbbing between her lips, and when he pulls back completely she gasps and splutters for air, dry heaving. 

“Time to find out if you were fucking lying,” Negan tells her, yanking her to her feet by her arm, shoving her over to the couch as she stumbles. He spins her around and forces her to bend over the arm of the couch, throwing her skirt over her ass, seeing that the white cotton panties are actually a thong, and her round, bare ass is right there for him. 

“Rachel,” he tuts, disappointment dripping off of his tongue. “Who the fuck do you think you are wearing panties like this, hm? You think you’re a big fucking girl, don’t you?” 

Rachel doesn’t reply, she just continues to cry, and Negan eagerly pulls the material to one side, exposing her pink, unused pussy, all tight and closed up, yet to be ruined or spoiled by anyone. He’s going to be the first, and if he gets his way, the last, too.

“Have you ever touched yourself?” he asks, looking at the back of her head for any sign of a reply. She doesn’t reply, which gives him his answer. “Have you fucked yourself with toys before? I bet a fucking whore like you has toys.” She shakes her head ‘no’ this time. “Fingers?” Another shake of her head tells Negan everything he needs to know. “Poor baby girl, you have no fucking idea what you’ve gotten yourself into.” 

Negan spits on his fingers and roughly pushes them between her folds, forcing them inside her as she screams, and he rushes to cover her mouth with his free hand. Not that her mother will hear her through all those walls and Xanax. Such a shame. He forcibly fucks into her cunt with his fingers, scissoring them in a bid to open her up just enough to take his cock, but he’s doubtful he’s going to fit without a lot of force. He’s still willing to try, though. He spits onto his cock, once again spitting on his fingers too, spreading the wet around her slightly opened hole. 

“No, no no no,” Rachel starts to panic, reaching back to push him away, but Negan’s strong enough to have her trapped there, and even when she tries to stand back up, he only has to push down on her back to get her to double over once again. “Please don’t, please, I’m a virgin, Daddy, please,” she begs. 

“Imagine this was Callum, hm?” he reminds her, teasing the tip of his cock against her tight opening, wondering if he’s going to manage to get inside. He pushes forward, making her scream once again, his hand once more silencing her. “It could’ve been. Could’ve fucking raped you on his backseat. Dropped you home with his cum dripping down your fucking legs and never called you again. You would’ve been just some dumb fucking whore he got to fuck,” he snarls, getting inch by inch inside her slowly. Blood smears over his length and he smirks at the sight, happy to have taken his little girl’s virginity. “You’re fuckin’ lucky it’s me, sweetheart,” he tells her. “You’re fucking lucky it’s someone who loves you.” 

Want me to write your idea? Find out more here!

[dilucs-princess]

Reader n Rin drugging n non conning Sae <3

[sleepysheepiiee]

I don’t think not so savory stuff should be barred from cotl fanfics and art, since it is a game about cults. However, I don’t think it should be glamorized or written as a good thing.

[furious-haste-of-malice]

We’ve already discussed this in the DMs but here’s an official prompt/request: Manwe forcibly feminizing Melkor and messing with his fana to give him a “purer form”

Go wild.

𝑳𝒐𝒗𝒆 𝑳𝒐𝒏𝒈 𝑫𝒆𝒏𝒊𝒆𝒅

"So you even admit that you would deceive me!" Manwë exclaimed, yanking the comb out of his brother's matted hair. "Not only have you denied me your love for ages out of cruelty and misplaced revenge, but you also insist on attempting to poison our memories! Why, brother? Have I not loved you enough?" 

"Not enough, yet at the same time too much," Melkor sighed. At least if he meant all the things he said to me and wasn't just pretending to please Father.

⊱ Characters: Melkor, Manwë ⊱ Pairing(s): Melkor x Manwë ⊱ Synopsis: Even after ages of Melkor rejecting their bond, Manwë is determined to love him and create the relationship he always dreamed of - by force, if necessary. ⊱ Featuring: Hair brushing, "bonding", sibling "love", ⊱ Warnings: Smut, non-con, sibling incest, forcibly feminized fána/non-consensual body modification, obsession Oneshot (~4.1k) Also available on AO3

𝑨𝒖𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒓'𝒔 𝑵𝒐𝒕𝒆: Apologies for taking so long, but I went all out to make up for it. Let's go.

"Do you see how beautiful you are?" Manwë's voice vibrated with excitement and his hands rested on his brother's shoulders as if to embrace him from behind. 

Melkor stared at his reflection in the mirror, frozen in disbelief. What he saw resembled the form he had assumed so long ago, but it was not quite how he remembered it. His skin, formerly icy and ashen like the lands he used to dwell in, was smoother now, with a warmer, creamy complexion; his hair had grown throughout his captivity, its tips now reaching down to his heels; his shoulders were smaller and his limbs daintier, a good amount of muscle mass seemingly lost to time; yet what caused him the most discomfort was the soft roundness of his chest and thighs, reshaping his silhouette into one distinctly feminine. 

It was, admittedly, not the first time Melkor had seen himself thus. In his youth he had changed fánar as easy as breathing, experimenting with great delight and curiosity until any given form had reflected his current mood and need, yet this one he didn't recall choosing for himself, neither in the past nor through any recent efforts. 

The only thing he remembered was sleeping in his brother's bed while Manwë sang to him and stroked his hair, healing him as he had claimed. Neither did he have any memory of putting on the frilly blue nightgown he was currently wearing, its thin, sheer fabric leaving little to the imagination. 

Melkor frowned. "Did you change me?" 

"Changed you?" Manwë, seemingly oblivious to his brother's discomfort, was smiling. "I fixed and improved you, so you may be beautiful again like you were in the beginning, when we were one." 

"This is not the form I chose for myself," Melkor insisted. "What have you done to me?!" 

"Now that is no way to thank me," Manwë chastised gently. "You are now whole in body and soon you will be whole in spirit as well." 

It was only when Melkor pressed his lips together that he noticed how soft and plump they had become. 

"What. Have. You. Done. To. Me?" he repeated, hissing through gritted teeth. "Why wasn't it enough to heal me? Why do you need me to be "beautiful"? I am your brother, not your wife!" 

Manwë's talons gripped his shoulders harder, leaving red marks on his skin. 

"You were my beautiful, wonderful, flawless, perfect brother," he whispered with such fervent insistence that Melkor flinched away from the sound of his voice. "Do you not know how much I missed you? How much my heart was aching for you? I need you to be like that again. I need my brother."

"I don't know what you remember, but I was never like this," Melkor said coldly. 

"You lie to me just as you lied to yourself, twisting your own memories to convince yourself that you hate Father and I – but no more." 

Manwë finally let go of his shoulders, one hand trailing down his arm almost tenderly to take his hand.

"Come. Let me take care of you." 

"What if I don't want you to take care of me? I don't remember asking." 

"Of course you want to." All stubbornness and urgency had vanished from Manwë's expression and he smiled at his brother with his usual serene, wide-eyed innocence. "I know you were lonely out there and missed having someone to care for you."

"I had others." 

Melkor's instincts were screaming at him that arguing about this might once again bring out whatever strange behaviour he sibling had exhibited earlier, yet he couldn't help himself; his pride and curiosity alike had always been too strong for his own good. 

And indeed, his statement caused Manwë's soft, cloud-like brows to furrow like a storm forming on the horizon and blue fire lit up within his gaze. "You didn't have me." 

With that, he pulled his brother over to the bed and made him sit down, positioning himself behind him again so he could see the mirror. A lazy wave of his hand summoned a small gust of wind to fling a hairbrush and a comb directly into his grasp, and Melkor groaned in annoyance as he realised what Manwë intended to do. 

"Leave my hair alone." 

"No, brother. I need to take care of it." 

Thrice defied, perhaps even more. Melkor couldn't remember any other instance of his brother being this stubborn; in the past he had usually folded rather quickly, acquiesced just to appease and placate him, or had required the intervention of other Valar to argue on his behalf. Yet whatever this charade was, Manwë was determined to see it through, and the thought was more unsettling than he wanted to admit. 

Had he underestimated him after all? 

Melkor watched in the mirror as Manwë began to untangle the knots in his hair with the comb, starting at the tips and slowly but steadily working his way to the roots. His hair was, and had always been difficult, like it had a will of its own. Not even Mairon had managed to constrain it enough for even a simple braid, and many brushes, combs and hair ties had been destroyed over the ages. 

Now, however, Melkor's hair had lost its life and lustre, limply hanging in Manwë's grasp and enduring the vigorous combing in silent defeat. Whether it would recover or not he couldn't tell, and he wondered if he should attempt to cut it once he had the chance; though the chances of him getting his hands on any sort of blade or other sharp object appeared rather slim. 

Maybe if I break the mirror – 

"You always had such beautiful hair," Manwë's voice interrupted his thoughts. "Pitch black as if to trap all light, but when it shone upon its strands, it shimmered in many colours. I loved looking at it and playing with it." 

Melkor squinted at their mirror image, contemplating his words for a moment. Despite his earlier insistence on the accuracy of his recollection, he now searched his memories for anything close to what Manwë was describing. 

"You never played with my hair," he said finally. "I never played with you at all after Father made you. You wanted to, but I didn't." 

Manwë shook his head vigorously. "You always act like we were never close or had any relationship at all, but it is not true. We were brothers in Father's mind, and he made us as such." 

"Father can think so all he wants, yet it doesn't change that I didn't want any of it and remember full well what I did and didn't allow you to do," Melkor countered. 

In his ire, he flashed his brother's mirror image a cruel smirk and added, "Maybe you confuse me with Varda, Ulmo and the others that Father made just so someone would keep you company. Maybe you wanted to play with my hair, but I didn't let you and you got upset. If you're trying your hand at deception, Manwë, maybe don't try your luck with one who mastered it long before you." 

"So you even admit that you would deceive me!" Manwë exclaimed, yanking the comb out of his brother's matted hair. "Not only have you denied me your love for ages out of cruelty and misplaced revenge, but you also insist on attempting to poison our memories! Why, brother? Have I not loved you enough?" 

"Not enough, yet at the same time too much," Melkor sighed. At least if he meant all the things he said to me and wasn't just pretending to please Father. 

He had always assumed that it was all a lie and performance. Perhaps it made things easier for him to push his brother away and sever the bond before it could be fully formed; most certainly it made them simpler. Disown the impostor, despise the false king. Yet now it occurred to Melkor that there was one factor he had miscalculated, one aspect he had underestimated: Manwë's determination to reform their bond and receive the love from him that he had always wanted. 

No. Saved from the Void or not, Melkor still felt betrayed. He was not going to give it to him, he was going to deny him until the bitter end. 

Warm breath tickled his neck, and he felt Manwë's forehead resting against the back of his head. The comb lay discarded on the floor. 

"I will make it up to you. I will love you enough," his voice whispered in his ear. 

Melkor remained silent, waiting for the moment to pass. 

The very air inside the room seemed to stand still until Manwë sighed and picked up the brush to continue his work. Even as his hair was thoroughly groomed, it didn't regain its usual shine, instead remaining a dull, charcoal black as if it had been burned. Again, Melkor contemplated telling his brother not to bother and let him cut it, yet he knew he wasn't going to listen; not today, not anymore.

"Would you like something in your hair? I heard you like diamonds," Manwë asked with a sweet smile, putting down the brush to admire his work. 

He did indeed, though it seemed too good to be true. Wordlessly, Melkor shook his head. 

"Do you want me to braid it then?" 

"I never wear braids. Leave it." 

"Very well." Manwë nodded, his mien betraying nothing even as Melkor eyed him closely in the mirror. Yet another thing his so-called brother didn't know about him. 

You will never know me like Mairon does, he wanted to say, to hurl the cruellest insult he could think of at the Vala whose affection he had refused and despised his entire life. 

But he was no fool. If Melkor hadn't managed to break their sibling bond after ages of trying, what could he do or say now that he hadn't done or said already? 

The sickeningly sweet scent of roses assaulted his nostrils when Manwë pulled a flask out of his robes, poured a small amount of watery liquid on his hand and began to rub it into every inch of bare skin he could reach, most notably his neck and chest area.

Melkor let out a warning snarl. "Stop that!" 

"Don't you want to smell nice?" 

"I smell like myself, and that will have to be enough." 

"No." Manwë began to draw tender circles on his cheeks. "You smell like... evil. Like all the dark things you have seen out there. I cannot bear it."

"My hröa is not yours to mess with! I have to live in it, not you!" 

Once again Melkor's protest was ignored. 

"You used to smell like home," Manwë sighed, resting his head on his brother's shoulder and inhaling the offending flowery scent. 

"I... cannot fathom where you even got this idea." 

Melkor was upset. Bit by bit his chosen shape and attributes were altered and stripped from him against his will, just to fit some twisted vision born from Manwë's desire to be close to him. The way his brother described it was also strangely intimate, as if he had created an elaborate fantasy of their relationship and interactions in his mind. 

Worry crept up on him. Perhaps the damage done to his sanity was greater than he had ever known. 

Manwë wrapped his arms around him from behind and smiled at him in the mirror. "Do you like it? Are you happy that you are beautiful again?" 

"You know we always had a different understanding of beauty," Melkor said coldly. "You made me ugly." 

"You simply need to get used to it, then you will see. Though, maybe you need me to show you just how pretty you are?" 

The grip around his waist tightened, and Melkor's eyes widened in disbelief when he saw Manwë's reflection turning his head to kiss his cheek. His hröa began to feel numb from shock, so much so that he barely registered the sensation of lips upon skin. 

"Never kiss me again," he warned.

"But why? You are my brother, and I love you." 

"Do not. I mean it."

"No... you don't." 

Before Melkor could squirm out of his brother's grasp, his head was suddenly tilted backwards, and Manwë kissed him on the lips. It was, to his horror, neither a symbolic gesture nor a cheeky little peck, it was a long, passionate and deep kiss, brimming with enthusiasm and, worse yet, desire. He pressed his lips together to deny entry to his mouth and attempted to push the younger Vala away, but his current form lacked the strength to do so. 

With surprising dexterity, Manwë manoeuvred him into a lying position and climbed on top of him, shamelessly pressing their bodies together. 

"What in Eru's name are you doing?" Melkor hissed between kisses. 

"Loving you." 

"Manwë, I am your brother! Go find your wife –" 

He was silenced with another kiss. 

Good for nothing as usual, both of them, Melkor raged inwardly, the only thing he could do to process his shock and disgust. 

When Manwë withdrew from him, a small string of saliva hung in the air between them, binding them like a thread of fate. 

"Don't even try to pretend that you weren't thinking of me when you brought Túrin and Niënor together," he breathed, his eyes glowing with a fey light. 

"You do realise that didn't exactly end well for them?" Melkor countered. 

"Yes, but we are not mortal. The love between Ainur has always been free from such burdens." 

"You are sick." 

But Manwë wasn't listening. He appeared to be mesmerised by Melkor's angrily heaving chest and began rubbing his swollen pectorals, causing his nipples to harden. 

"Stop that!" 

"Are you afraid of enjoying this?" Manwë's expression was entirely too calm, too serene, too loving. "Do you want to keep lying to yourself?" 

"I don't –" Melkor was interrupted by a sharp gasp as his nipples were cruelly pinched by merciless talons, nearly puncturing the thin fabric of his nightgown – reminding him how easily it could be torn to shreds and leave him defenceless. He shivered. 

"Ssshhht. Let me love you." 

Manwë was almost pleading upon seeing the Dark Vala struggle against him; unfortunately it was but a farce, another attempt at acting like the sweet and lovable little brother he had always wanted to be. He continued toying with the newly discovered delights of Melkor's altered shape, rubbing, tugging, pinching and rolling his swollen nipples between his thumb and index finger. 

"You know, I did always wonder how it would feel to touch you," he breathed, utterly engrossed in the illicit touches he was bestowing upon his squirming and struggling sibling. 

"So at least you admit I never let you do this," Melkor snapped, trying to slap his hands away. 

Manwë managed to seize both of his wrists in one hand, courtesy of his long, curved talons, and held him down while his other hand began to pull up the skirt of his nightgown. 

"I wondered if you would like it," he continued, ignoring Melkor's attempts to argue. "Whenever I imagined myself touching you, it was just like this... you would try to brush me off, ridicule me, lie to me, curse me, fight me... yet in the end you would enjoy it because you yearn to be loved."

Determined, Manwë pulled the nightgown over his head, leaving his brother naked in front of him. Melkor glanced down at his body, dread filling him as he beheld those softly rounded curves, reddened, hardened nipples and his cock stirring between his legs. 

"You want this," Manwë whispered, eyes darkening with desire, "you want me too." 

"No. No. Give me my clothes back." Melkor tried to press his legs together, turn to the side to hide as much of himself as he could, free his hands to grab the blanket. Anything to escape the hungry gaze of blue eyes so much like his own. 

"Don't make me bind you with Angainor again," Manwë pleaded. "Let us enjoy this together!" 

"Never!" 

The feeling of metal encasing his wrists was familiar at this point, and Melkor contented himself with vicious warning snarls and fruitless kicking and struggling while he was restrained and his hands bound to the headboard. Manwë made sure his head was comfortably resting on a pillow, skillfully evading his attempts to bite him, and made gentle cooing noises to calm him. 

"Are you going to scream?" he asked, calm as if it was a normal and trivial question. 

"If you keep touching me? Yes. And I hope your wife hears me," Melkor said venomously. 

Manwë sighed. "I truly wish you didn't make me do this, but at least you are being honest about your intentions. I shall take it as a sign of improvement." 

Melkor's eyes widened when he felt all air leave his lungs. He tried in vain to inhale, gasping soundlessly as breath continued to elude him, and Manwë leaned down to kiss his quivering lips. 

"Worry not. Your current form does not depend on my element, it is but a reflex. I will let you breathe again as soon as you stop using your words to hurt me." 

With cruelty once thought impossible for him to conceive, he left Melkor silenced, breathless and helplessly twitching in his bonds and forcibly spread his legs to devote his attention to the most intimate part of his anatomy, intrigued by the mystery he had uncovered after ages of innocent curiosity turned depraved desire. He took his brother's cock in hand like he would take up his sapphire sceptre, examining and admiring it before beginning to stroke. His fingers were more than long enough to wrap around it completely, yet his hand – white like clouds and too dainty for war, having held quills rather than swords – seemed out of place, ill-fit for such an act of dominance and lust. 

Melkor tried not to feel, to ignore the sensation of being touched and pleasured by his brother. Yet no matter how desperately his mind sought to force his body into unfeeling, uncaring submission, his flesh at last betrayed him. Delight and fascination lit up Manwë's usually serene mien upon seeing his arousal, and he closed his eyes, unable to witness the continuous violation of the form he was trapped in. Perhaps his spirit at least could escape to a better place, pretending that it was but a bad dream or imagining someone else in his brother's place. 

A finger began prodding his hole with unabashed curiosity, and Melkor tensed. Talons retreated back into flesh to avoid drawing blood, but it made the touch no less unwelcome. 

"I assume your virtue has long since been lost," Manwë lamented, "and I must say that it pains me to imagine you giving yourself to another so readily while refusing me even the smallest gestures of affection." 

He was right, but Melkor wouldn't have told him so even if he'd been able to speak. Countless nights had he spent in the arms of others, most often his beloved little flame, and to Mairon alone he had granted the privilege of taking him when he was in the mood to receive the love of another. These moments had been profoundly intimate and intense, requiring ages of trust, patience and many soothing words from his partner; for he was a being of power and control, and to relinquish it was no easy feat. 

Melkor was afraid of what would be done to him, and his worst fear came true when Manwë pushed his finger inside of him – and his body wasn't resisting like it should. Neither spit nor oil had been used to ease the way, yet it entered him smoothly and with little to no pain. 

He noticed then how strangely wet his insides were, responding to the unwelcome intrusion by leaking all over his brother's hand. 

"W-what have you done to me?" he asked through ósanwë, almost pulling away instantly when he was met with exuberant joy. 

"I made you more receptive to my love," Manwë informed him. "After all, I wouldn't want you to be in pain."

Melkor bit his bottom lip. As much as he feared and hated being in pain, it might be preferable over yet another act of humiliating acquiescence perpetrated by his own body. 

He didn't see Manwë leaning down to lavish his hard, leaking cock with even more attention, only realising what was about to happen when warm breath tickled his skin and wet lips closed around his flesh. 

I'm not taking pleasure from my brother... I'm not taking pleasure from my brother... I'm not...

Yet no matter how often and desperately Melkor repeated the mantra in his head, the truth was that he was experiencing pleasure. Manwë appeared to not possess any gag reflex whatsoever, taking in his whole length like a seagull devouring its food and sucking him off with great enthusiasm; and his finger, now joined by another, had discovered a hidden pleasure spot inside of him, stimulating it with unending delight. 

"I wish I could hear you moan for me, brother." 

It was too much. It was wrong and forced and sickening, but it felt too good. Melkor attempted to suppress and delay his climax as long as he could, but was soon forced over the edge with a soundless sob. Manwë moaned around his cock while drinking his essence, not letting a single droplet escape. 

"You taste so lovely, just like I thought you would."

The sound of rustling robes caused Melkor to open his eyes in alarm, panicking when he saw Manwë hastily undressing himself. 

"I need you," he breathed. "Eru, I cannot bear to be parted from you any longer..."

"Father wouldn't approve of this," Melkor tried to protest, desperate to avoid what was about to happen, but he was ignored. 

"Don't be silly, brother," Manwë admonished, throwing his discarded robes on the floor. "Father made us to love each other and bonded us himself." 

He grasped Melkor's thighs and pushed his legs towards his chest to admire his helplessly twitching hole, then forced his cock inside. It was hard without needing to be touched, unrelenting in its pursuit of unifying their bodies, and despite the earlier preparation, it hurt. 

Had he been able to use his voice, Melkor would have screamed. This couldn't be happening. It was simply not possible. He had truly fallen so low that another Vala could force his will upon him, and worse yet, his own brother - smiling, innocent Manwë, always gentle, always agreeable, always forgiving him. Out of all his enemies, he had thoroughly deceived him, making him underestimate what he was capable of. 

And now, he was being mercilessly speared by his cock, used to fulfil a fanatic fantasy of brotherly love. 

In his despair, Melkor tore down the mental walls he had so carefully raised to protect his spirit and flooded their bond with his anguish, but Manwë didn't relent. He lay down on top of him and embraced him, whispering endearments in the ancient language of their kind to soothe his pain even as he continued his assault. 

The only grace Melkor was granted, whether by his indifferent father or not, was that it didn't take long. Manwë came inside him as soon as he forced him into another kiss, this time successfully pushing his tongue down his throat. Feverish praise and words of affection drowned out every other thought they might have shared in that moment. 

Exhaustion took hold of Melkor then, and he only realised that he was breathing again when he heard the sound of his own cries and sobs. 

"I know," Manwë cooed, kissing him again. "It was a lot. You are not used to being loved anymore. 

"N-no... you..." 

But he was out of words. What could he even say? That he had been physically altered, assaulted and raped by his brother under the guise of love? That he, despite the lack of connection and affection, still felt betrayed? That he was hurt and wounded in hröa and ëala in ways Ainur were never meant to endure? 

Manwë remained on top of him, tucking his head underneath his chin as if they were merely cuddling – as if nothing had happened. 

"I love you, brother." 

Melkor was silent. 

"I missed you so much. I am glad we are together again now." 

The walls around his spirit rose like thorny vines, shielding him from the twisted love Manwë was projecting through their bond. Evil or not, Melkor had known love throughout his existence, and this was something else entirely. 

Had pity and tears alike not escaped him, he would have wept for what his brother had become.

[somnophilia-fantasies-the-sequel]

Streamy delights

summary:

Brother streams the 'game' he plays with his sister. He blindfolds her and has her taste things on camera. Last item is his cock!

The chat also adds requests and he accepts to allow someone to come in and eat her pussy while she sleeps and he films it.

Word Count: 1254

Kinks: sibling incest, incest, somno, oral sex, vaginal fingering, non con, non con voyeurism, non con drug use

Ever since her brother got into gaming she’s been feeling a lot more lonely and left out of things. So when he asked her to play a game with him she immediately agreed, not caring at all what it was. 

That’s how she ended up with a blindfold over her eyes and being led somewhere. She’s sat down and as she feels the chair she’s on, she assumes she’s in his room. She had no idea she was in front of his computer set up, in front of the camera, about to put on a show for his audience. 

If she weren’t so innocent and naive she might have thought of something sinister being off when her brother massaged her tits through her tank top. But before she could ask what he was doing he said, “We’re going to play a game. You’re going to stick your tongue out and I’m going to put something on your tongue. You have to guess what it is, alright?” 

“O…okay.”

“Stick out your tongue.”

So she did. The first thing she tastes is a banana. Not her favorite, so she pulled back and made a face. “Gross…”

“I know. Here, now this.” 

She tasted something sweet. Wrapping her tongue around it, she guesses it’s a lollipop. 

“What flavor?” he asks. 

She licks more, tongue circling around the sweet before she goes, “Cherry.”

“Good girl…stick your tongue out far now.” 

She accepted his order and stuck out her tongue. She feels something on her tongue but she doesn’t recognize the taste at all. She had no idea that her brother had taken his cock out of his basketball shorts and placed the tip on her tongue. 

She pulled back and said, “I don’t know what that is…” 

“Stick your tongue out again,” was all her brother ordered. She did. 

He slapped her cheek a bit with the cock, mostly for his own pleasure. He knew she was too innocent to know what it was. He placed his cock back on top of her tongue and pressed forward a bit. Instinctively she took in the head like she would a lollipop. He moaned when she wrapped her tongue around it, still thinking it was a guessing game. 

He grabbed her head firmly and kept her in place as he began to thrust his cock into her mouth. Even when she gagged he ignored it in favor of chasing his pleasure. He didn’t go too deep though, but fucked her mouth shallowly until he felt he was going to come. 

Pulling out, he stroked himself until he came and covered her with thick ropes of come. 

“Fuck…” He muttered. After panting a bit he said, “Stay still while I clean you up then you can go back to your room.” 

She did as he said and when he told her to go, she didn’t question him. Or notice how fast his chat was going or that she’d been the star of his latest stream. 

***

She remembered her brother coming into her room and sharing a drink with her. It tasted weird but she wanted to have fun with her brother and accepted it when he told her to drink it. They played video games on their Switch but she doesn’t remember a lot of it before she seemingly passed out. 

When she woke up she was in her room but it felt…off. 

Her private parts felt tingly in a way it never has before. She decided to go and take a bath. While it was filling up she was checking her messages and that’s when she noticed a new notification. 

Checking it, it was a video. 

In the video, it began with a show of a stream message with some amount of money. The message being ‘I want to that pussy!’ 

The video then clipped to her. She was asleep and in her bed, lights on and she recognized her brother’s legs. He was filling her. 

Someone else stepped into frame and she had no idea who it was. The man wore a ski mask so she had no idea what he looked like, but what he did was what had her attention. He sat between her legs that he’d spread and pulled down her Hello Kitty panties. 

He pressed his face against her pussy and her brother got closer and zoomed in. She saw as the man’s tongue dove between her folds. First slowly, languidly, before going faster. The man’s mask was lifted up above his nose and he pressed his face deep into her cunt, sucking on her clit. 

The video clips out again and then it’s just her…and her brother behind the camera. The camera’s zooming into her pussy again. It’s glistening and her brother’s hand is on screen again, spreading her legs, spreading her pussy folds, his finger slipping into her hole. Slow at first before the pace picked up, his fingers working hard until she squirted a mess onto her bed. 

Her brother’s cock was on screen now, slapping her pussy, slipping the cockhead between her pussy and he teased her hole a bit, slipping it in a bit but not all of the way. He made his way up her body and she watched as he slipped his cock into her mouth while he played with her boobs. 

***

Later that night she couldn’t sleep. She tried but couldn’t. When it was around 3 am she huffed and went toward her brother’s room. She crawled onto his bed and sat next to his head and stared at him. 

She poked him until he stirred. 

“What…what do you want?” He demanded, groggy and irritated to be woken up. 

She didn’t reply because she didn’t know the words she wanted to use. So instead she grabbed his head and pushed it against her private parts. She rutted against him. In theory, she knew he was stronger than her and could easily push her away, so when he didn’t she rubbed against him more, trying to get the friction she wanted. 

Soon he laid back down and she threw her leg over and rutted against her for a bit. She only stood for a moment to remove her panties and then sat back down on his face. He licked her cunt eagerly until she was a mess who needed more but she didn’t know what that was. 

She slid down his front until she was on his lap. He cupped her tits, pulling and tweaking her nipples before he pulled her shirt up to expose her tits. Leaning in he suckled on each of her tits for a few minutes before he manhandled her on all fours. She felt something pressed into her pussy and moaned the deeper it went. 

When he began to thrust, she whimpered but then moaned as the pleasure she never felt before coursed through her body. She collapsed when she came while her brother gripped her hips and continued to fuck her until he came. He didn’t pull out and came deep inside of her. She felt the come leak between her legs as he collapsed next to her. She cuddled into him and he held onto her.

“Who was that man?”

“...our neighbor. He’s had a crush on you for the longest time.”

“Oh. That’s nice.” She knows he works from home, he’s told her a few times they’ve chatted while she did outside chores. Maybe she’ll go over and visit him when his wife isn’t home. 

[born-to-lose-writing]

Pretty Baby

Pairing: Uncle Ernie x Tommy Walker

Summary: Uncle Ernie has always wondered how cute Tommy would look in lingerie...

Tags: smut, canonical non-con, canonical incest, a tiny bit of fluff at the end if you squint

Words: 1,781

A/N: My friend got the idea of Ernie dressing Tommy in lingerie and I expanded a little so here you go 👀

Ernie loved how cute Tommy looked with his golden curls, big blue eyes and always parted lips. In short, looking like a beautiful doll with no thoughts - which he was, to him at least. Maybe if he hadn't been so handsome, he wouldn't have felt the need to play with him so often. It felt good to have an attractive lad all to himself, more attractive than some of the women and men who had rejected him previously. However, he had been wondering for a while now how adorable his sweet boy would look in skimpy feminine clothing rather than the button-up shirts and long pants he usually wore.

One day when Ernie came home, he brought lingerie, standing in the doorway and holding the set up as if to present it to Tommy despite him not seeing what he had for him anyway. With a wide grin, he grabbed the younger man's hand and went straight to the bedroom.

Pushing him to sit in the armchair, Ernie took off Tommy’s pullover and unzipped his jeans, pulling them down his legs, which he unwillingly made easier as he tried to fight against it. He didn't try too hard, but not because he wanted to be used, rather he knew his uncle would be even rougher with him if he acted up too much.

“Thank you,” Ernie smirked and leaned forward to press his lips to the blonde's neck, freshening up the old hickey which was starting to fade. He slowly ran his hands down his shoulders and arms before reaching behind him to get the clothes he was excited to see on Tommy.

He shuddered under his touch, but gave up on fighting back. Judging from his somewhat gentle behavior so far, he hoped tonight wouldn't be as bad as some others.

While Ernie loved having his boy naked for him, he couldn't wait any longer to dress him up. He took Tommy’s hands and put them in front of him to help him slide the light pink silk bra up his arms. As he closed the clasp at the back, he admired how the white lace straps and hems complemented his hair, before readjusting the extra straps above his chest. Then he took the long silk ribbons, wrapping them around his abdomen and tying them together nicely in the front.

He knelt down to pull the panties of the same color over his legs. The sides and back of the pair were sheer so only the absolutely necessary was covered, and there was a little bow in the front. When he reached the top, he realized they were a little too small for him as some parts struggled to fit into the panties, but he didn't really try to make them fit. The sight of that was perhaps even more enticing and he licked his lips while scrutinizing Tommy.

However, he wasn't done with him yet. As cute as he was already, he still looked too naked - something Ernie never thought except for now. Stockings were the perfect addition, so he lifted up Tommy’s feet one by one to put on white stockings with ruffles above the knees. Adjusting each of them, he caressed his thighs in such a gentle and nearly loving way that the young man almost enjoyed the touch.

Ernie picked him up and placed him on the bed with his back against the headboard and his stocking-clad legs elegantly angled, looking like a centerfold model. He ran his hand through Tommy’s hair and cupped his cheek, murmuring, “God, you're beautiful.”

Of course he couldn't hear anything, but Ernie was not a quiet person and he still wanted to praise him for being so good and letting himself get dressed by his uncle, even if Tommy only felt his touch and smelled the beer on his breath.

Then he sat in the armchair in front of the bed, simply staring at the boy full of lust. Watching him shift in an attempt to fumble with the lingerie because it was obviously uncomfortable felt like watching a striptease to Ernie. Yet he didn't want Tommy to take it off, so he jumped forward to stop him when he tried to open the ribbon below his chest. “Uh-uh, we don't do that,” he said, taking off the belt of his trenchcoat to tie the blonde's hands to the bed frame above his head.

After making sure it was tight enough, he returned to his seat, grinning at the sight of Tommy struggling to free himself at first but then giving in. Ernie leaned back and started slowly stroking himself, looking his toy up and down with increasing arousal.

He could feel Ernie's eyes on him as well as the lust that hung in the air and he squeezed his thighs together, trying to hide as much as he could from him to not egg him on further.

“Aw so desperate, baby boy?” he feigned pity and got up to sit at the foot of the bed.

Dragging the left stocking down with his teeth at an agonizingly slow pace, he forced Tommy to feel every inch he moved lower and left him unsure of whether he wanted Ernie to just take them off already or to keep them on. Sitting there in tight lingerie and thigh highs was embarrassing enough, but he didn't prefer to be naked and completely on display for this dirty old man either.

Once the first stocking was down, he reached out to stuff it in Tommy’s mouth, not to keep him quiet, but because he liked the way he looked with something in his mouth that would serve neither of them. The humiliation of not being given Ernie's cock to suck and only his own stocking turned him on.

Then he took off the second stocking the same way, holding Tommy’s left leg in place while his teeth were brushing against the right one on the way down. With this one, he gathered his luscious hair in a ponytail, wishing he could see himself how much of a slut he looked like.

Ernie spread his nephew's legs and knelt between them, taking his cock out of his pants and jerking off in front of him. He stopped for a moment to lick Tommy's bulge through the fabric, getting his head kicked in response. Deciding not to give him anything at all for now, he just played with the hem of his panties while continuing to masturbate, speeding up at the sight of the boy squirming and writhing.

Finally, he came on Tommy’s face and chest with a loud groan. Satisfied, he collected some cum on his hand and took the stocking out of his mouth, replacing it with his fingers. The way he started sucking immediately made Ernie feel like he was just waiting to taste him and he started grinding against Tommy’s crotch, which had gotten harder compared to earlier.

“I've never seen anyone as needy as you,” he laughed and grabbed his ponytail to yank his head up, sliding his saliva-covered hand down the other man's chin and neck.

He straddled him and carefully opened the ribbon under Tommy's chest like he was unwrapping a delicate present before snapping the extra straps above against his skin, leaving red stripes behind, which he licked to soothe the pain.

When he reached around to unclasp the bra, his breath was on Tommy’s neck again and he bit down on his shoulder. The younger man cringed away at the feeling of his teeth digging into his skin and raised his hand to try and push him off, but it didn't help in the slightest as Ernie just bit him harder. He loved leaving marks all over his body and he made sure there were enough when the old ones had gone away over time.

Ernie untied his hands to take off the bra, shaking his head at the cum stains on the silk and holding it up for Tommy to lick off.

He shuffled to sit between his legs once more as he dipped his fingers into the waistband of the panties and pulled them down, releasing Tommy’s dripping dick. Seeing him leaking after so little action made Ernie doubt he actually didn't want this as he so often acted like.

Now he couldn't wait any longer to fuck him. The blonde's hands weren't tied anymore, but he laid there just as helpless and submissive as usual. Ernie grabbed his thighs and kept them parted while pulling his hips closer. He pushed into Tommy’s hole, not needing to prepare him anymore after everything he had taken up until now.

He brushed his fingers over Tommy’s tip, which made him twitch and try to squeeze his legs together, but Ernie's position was too steady to be bothered by it. Still, he dug his nails deeper into his skin to stop him from resisting as he thrusted faster and harder. Over time, he would grow to like it, he was sure.

One thing he didn't like about his nephew being deaf was that he couldn't properly order him around and deny him his orgasms. What he wouldn't give to make him edge himself while Ernie would watch. At least he could still stop moving and touching him whenever he felt Tommy was close, and he could punish him for not being obedient later.

However, he didn't feel like doing that today, after all, he had been such a good boy for him posing in his new lingerie. So he continued and didn't slap Tommy for coming before he was allowed to. Instead, he buried his fingers in his curls, massaging his scalp in praise. He leaned into his touch, breathing heavily and shaking as Ernie's movements sped up and the vibration of his moans sent shivers down his spine.

When Ernie was done, he got off the bed and disappeared but came back quickly with a towel to clean him up. Then he pulled the covers up from under Tommy's legs and laid next to him, wrapping an arm around him. The boy was surprised because Ernie would usually sleep elsewhere and just leave him like this after his sessions. He very rarely shared a bed with him and when he did, it was only due to him passing out immediately, but he never got this close to him physically afterwards.

Tommy rolled to the side and shuffled closer to him for some warmth and to be near the kind of unpleasant yet familiar smell of his uncle. Ernie's muscles tensed at first, but he held him tighter and pulled the blanket over them before falling asleep.

[searenbound]

Time for work but all I want to do is talk about artists!Bakugou who can’t figure out how a poses works so he gets his sister to model for him. Does it have to be nude modeling? Probably not but she doesn’t need to know that does she?

[diejager]

Maybe maybe…….. Makarov has a strange relationships with his daughter………..(like Ghost with his sister…………..)

Cw: INCEST, DARKFIC, DUB-CON/NON-CON, implied smut, manipulation, power imbalance, tell me if I missed any.

Makarov was… odd, as most people who knew him would say. He had an uncanny way of making others afraid or break out in cold sweat, fearful for their lives and terrified f being the bearer of bad news to a man that held so much power. He was a man paved in beautifully dangerous marble, sculpted from skilful hands and all-seeing eyes, and that made Makarov much, much more dangerous than any usual man. He was sly, conniving, confident and a strategist, but he was still a man.

He had a heart, softness in his cruel being, vulnerabilities, weaknesses —he had you, his sweet, sweet girl. You turned him soft, a man with a bleeding heart that would bend at the knee for you and got you anything you wanted. He pampered his sweet girl because he loved you, gifting you whatever you wanted at the drop of the hat. His word was law, but your word was God.

But even God had to give. Makarov was nothing, if not an exemplary father, teaching you that everything had a worth, that everything had a balance. To take was to give something away —at least between you both, the father and daughter. He taught you that affection was paid in affection; that material gain was paid in physical touch; and that favourability was paid in love. He was your protective and strong father figure, and you, the daughter that lived under his titular and shield.

For everything he gave you, he expected you to kiss him, to feel your soft lips on his rugged face, trimmed beard itching your tender skin every time he seeped the kiss, his tongue invading your mouth and pushing down your throat. He pulled away only when you’re panting and breathless, eyes rolled back with weak knees and mind dazed over. He never takes a single kiss, bowing to steal a third or fourth kiss, tongue dancing around yours and pulling mewls and moans from your mouth, swallowing them up.

He spent his nights with you, whispering praises and reaffirming these acts as just acts, what you should give to him in exchange for how well he took care of you. He took you apart from the seams, choking down sobs and eyes bleeding adoration, Makarov bent you in half as much as he split you in two, only to rebuild you with precise and careful touches, putting you back from your broken and writhing form to his precious girl.

He would pull you to his lap in meetings, have you press yourself into him and doze off while he worked, listening to you huff and pant, nuzzling into he crook of his neck, scenting him and demanding for some bit of attention. He ignored everyone’s eyes, their uncomfortable and disturbed gleam when Makarov pressed kisses down your neck, teeth sinking into the meat of your shoulders until you cry out and squirm on his lap, moaning as you rut against his thigh.

He made it into a show - a habit - of taking you in open areas when he could, a power play to show his allies how his own daughter listened to him. The best show of your obedience and his power in with loud bangs and echoing cries to disgruntled men emanating from his office and the struggle of his desk and scattered paperwork and maps.

[danpuff-ao3]

The Love of Family

by Celadine. Draco/Scorpius. Rated: E. Words: 14,731. Father/son. Infidelity. First time.

Scorpius enlists Al's help to seduce the illicit object of his affection.

Because We're Malfoys

by cruisedirector, LdyBastet. Draco/Lucius. Rated: E. Words: 6,022. Father/son. Public sex. Spanking. Quidditch.

Lucius takes Draco to a Quidditch Match to learn how to score.

The Malfoy Way

by DepravedDesires. Draco/Lucius. Rated: E. Words: 301. Father/son. Non-con. Extreme underage. Extreme dub-con.

The time has come for little Draco to learn the Malfoy way, and it won't be pleasant, but it must be done. *Drabble*

My Little Dragon

by Elf_Herself. Draco/Narcissa. Rated: E. Words: 820. Mother/son. Extreme underage. Erotic breastfeeding.

"Narcissa almost frowned, thinking of Lucius's coarse pawing, so different from Draco's delicate touches." I am so going to hell for this. (Someone had to fill the missing "erotic breastfeeding" niche in Potterfic, right?)

Holding On

by Elfflame. Draco/Lucius/Scorpius. Rated: E. Words: 3,091. Grandfather/father/son. Threesome.

Malfoy dynamics.

A Love for His Own Form

by Elfflame. Draco/Lucius. Rated: E. Words: 3,999. Father/son.

There was always something missing in his other lovers.

Daddy Dom and the Pureblood Prince

by Ephemeral. Draco/Lucius. Rated: E. Words: 8,745. Father/son. Daddy kink. Size kink. BDSM dynamics. Virginity loss. Dub-con.

Draco knows he shouldn’t want his father to pound him into the mattress. But after seeing how very good Daddy is at it, the boy will do anything to get his way — and gets so much more than he ever dreamt of. [Set in the summer after fifth year.]

Drucius Drabbles

by Ephemeral. Draco/Lucius. Rated: E. Words: 3,808 (and going!) Works: 14 (so far!) Father/son. Various kinks.

Daddy Lucius does many filthy things to his son. A collection of prompt fills from Discord. 🔪🕊️Join our shame-free multi-fandom discord server centered around Dead Dove content - for creators and consumers alike: Dead Dove: Do Not Enter (18+)

The Black Family Shield in Malfoy Manor

by Felix_Phial. Draco/Narcissa. Lucius/Narcissa. Rated: E. Words: 8,155. Mother/son. Fuck or die. Femdom. Breeding kink. Cuckolding. Threats of rape/non-con. Threats of violence. Humiliation. Praise kink. Hurt/comfort. Protectiveness. Manipulation. Bad dirty talk. Aftermath. Mutual non-con.

With Lucius traumatized from his recent stint in Azkaban, it’s up to Narcissa to save Draco’s life. And for something this serious, it’ll have to be one hell of a show.

Legacy Reborn

by greenmegsnoham. Draco/Lucius. Rated: E. Words: 24,840. Art by A_Loveunlaced. Created for Fear Fucking Fest 2022. Father/son. NSFW art. Extreme dub-con. Internalized homophobia. Background relationships. Marriage contracts. Courting. Rough sex. Painful sex. Breeding kink. Daddy kink. Infidelity. Numerous other tags & warnings.

The Malfoy name was tainted, and it would be up to Draco to save them—even if it meant giving everything he had to a life without love.

Poison Dart

by Hijja. Lucius/Scorpius. Rated: E. Words: 2,115. Grandfather/grandson. Potions. Consent issues.

Scorpius Malfoy has been poisoned at Hogwarts. His father and grandfather come to take him home.

Toy

by iamisaac. Draco/Lucius. Rated: E. Words: 2,708. Draco/others. Father/son. Non-con.

Post-HP books AU, in which Voldemort won. The Malfoys, however, remain in great disfavour, and Draco’s position as a slave/toy/sex object is punishment for his family’s sins.

Longest Night

by Indigo_Scarf. Draco/Narcissa. Rated: E. Words: 1,121. Mother/son. Underage. Hurt/comfort.

In the bleakest winter of their lives, Narcissa and Draco find comfort in each other. Mind the tags.

Abraxas Malfoy's Guide to Grooming an Heir

by just_a_whorecrux. Abraxas/Scorpius. Past Abraxas/Draco and Abraxas/Lucius. Rated: E. Words: 1,608. Written for Cest Fest 2023. Great-grandfather/great-grandson. Past grandfather/grandson & father/son. Underage. Extreme dub-con. Grooming. Virginity loss. Painful sex. Other kinks and warnings.

Every Malfoy heir is born to be bred, and Scorpius is no exception.

Ambrosia

by just_a_whorecrux. Draco/Lucius. Rated: E. Words: 1,589. Father/son. Non-con. Extreme underage. Pedophilia. Past Abraxas/Lucius. Rough sex. Blood and Injury. Bittersweet ending.

Lucius indulges in his nightly feast of ambrosia.

Desperation

by Max_Write. Draco/Lucius. Rated: E. Words: 1,475. Father/son.

In the middle of the night, Draco has a sudden need to be near his father. Hey, he’s only returning the favour.

Butterfly Boy

orphaned. Draco/Lucius. Rated: E. Words: 3,036. Father/son. Extreme underage.

Draco loses one of Lucius' rings which he's mercifully been given permission to play with.

Mummy's Milk

orphaned. Draco/Narcissa. Rated: E. Words: 2,073. Mother/son. Breastfeeding. Masturbation. Extreme underage.

Narcissa enjoys the time together with her cute, young son. Especially when it's time to breastfeed.

Seducing Your Father - A boy's guide to the art of seduction by Draco Malfoy

orphaned. Draco/Lucius. Rated: E. Words: 2,701. Father/son. Humor.

Ever wanted to seduce your father? Draco Malfoy's got the know-how!

Guiltier Than Him They Try

by paruaque. Draco/Lucius. Lucius/Percy. Rated: E. Words: 3,724. Father/son. Dub-con. Infidelity. Sexual coercion. Polujuice Potion.

When the cat's away, vice will play.

Confessions at Sunset

by Pinkelephant42. Draco/Lucius. Rated: E. Words: 713.

Each night Lucius seduces Draco, and each day, Lucius prays at Narcissa’s grave for forgiveness.

Passage to Eden

by Rushlight. Draco/Lucius. Rated: E. Words: 7,417. Father/son. First time.

The seduction of Draco Malfoy. Lucius introduces Draco to some chemical relaxation, and Draco learns that paradise is often in the eye of the beholder.

Purity of the Blood

by TheSlytherinGurl. Draco/Lucius. Draco/Narcissa. Rated: E. Words: 2,929. Father/son. Mother/son. Non-con. Underage. Breeding. Implied mpreg. Non-consensual body modification. Non-consensual drug use. Extreme dub-con. Implied/referenced underage prostitution.

Narcissa walked in on Lucius sexually assaulting Draco. They begin to question whether the punishment they have dreamed up for their son can be used to get back into the Dark Lord's good graces.  Takes place just after the events of Order of the Phoenix.

Demons Unleashed

by snarkyscorp. Draco/Scorpius. Minor Draco/Albus Severus and Scorpius/Albus Severus. Rated: E. Words: 4,894. Minor character death. Rough sex.

All Draco can think is how Potter got to Scorpius first, how Scorpius called for him, how the firm slap of Potter's palm connected with the taut flesh of his son's arse…

A Different Kind of Heir Training

by spicysin. Draco/Lucius. Rated: E. Words: 2,084. Father/son. Non-con. Extreme underage. Somnophilia. Grooming. Breeding. Drugged sex.

Like all Malfoy heir’s before him, Draco is about to begin his training. Although, this is a different kind of training than estate management and etiquette. This is his sexual training. And his tutor? His father, Lucius Malfoy.

The Black Family Way

by spicysin. Draco/Narcissa. Rated: E. Words: 3,489. Mother/son. Underage. Mommy kink (if you squint.)

His Mother was nothing short of a goddess and he wished to bend at the knee and worship every inch of her flesh. OR With the war ramping up and his house invaded by the Dark Lord, Draco is faced with the task of being the man of the house while his father is in Azkaban. But his mother is suffering in her own home and as a Black, the well-being of his family comes first. However, this wasn’t exactly what he had planned when he decided to cheer her up, but he also wasn’t going to pass up the chance to love his mother like a TRUE Black.

It wouldn't have to be this way (in a perfect world)

by spicysin. Draco/Lucius. Draco/Harry. Rated: E. Words: 5,327. Parent/child. Non-con. Daddy kink. Size kink. Mpreg. Imperiused sex. Written for HP Cest Fest 2023. “We’ve decided to try for a baby!” Lucius felt his thoughts grind to an abrupt halt at his son’s words, even as Narcissa began giving suggestions on how to handle things like morning sickness and Draco admitted his worries about carrying. His every movement ceased, cutlery still clutched in unfeeling hands as he tried to comprehend what he had just been told. His son, his pride and joy, was going to sully his heritage by carrying Potter’s spawn? No. There will never be a mixed blood Malfoy if it’s the last thing he does.

Innocence Lost

by torino10154. Draco/Scorpius. Draco/Lucius. Rated: E. Words: 800. Father/son. Dub-con.

Thanks to J for the once (or twice) over.

Into Temptation

by torino10154. Draco/Scorpius. Past Draco/Lucius. Rated: E. Words: 1,270. Father/son. Underage.

A father knows what's best for his son. Especially Draco's father.

Pride, Restored

by torino10154. Draco/Lucius/Scorpius. Rated: E. Words: 702. Grandfather/father/son. Non-con/dub-con. Humiliation. Bondage. Sex toys.

[No summary given, but can I just say I need more of this threesome in my life???]

Beautiful Boy

by worshipped. Draco/Narcissa. Rated: E. Words: 765. Mother/son. Consent issues.

“You look so like your father,” Narcissa says.

[silvashapeshifter]

sliva, I heard from Miles that something happened regarding proshippers, r u okay?

that's very kind of you to worry, but it's okay ! I didn't get harassed or anything, even if the amount of proshippers answering to tell me i'm wrong in the comment section of a post of an actual proshipper did scared me at first. I'll block the ones who are disrespectful, that's all !

if anything ever goes wrong/makes me deeply uncomfortable, i'll report it, don't worry 👍