#tw: pseudo incest

[ihavenointerestinreallife]

family relations | 18+ mdni

everyone knew that where fred went, george was right behind him; even if nobody could tell them apart half the time, two identical ginger boys always signaled trouble. 

when you showed up–someone with a stark difference in look to the two boys–it immediately raised an eyebrow. while not rare to see the two twins apart, it was a sight to see them accompanied by someone other than another member of their family, often at least. 

with the amount of nosy students at hogwarts it didn’t take long until someone got curious. 

“she’s just a part of the family,” george would say. 

“she’s like a sister to us, really,” fred would add not long after. 

— 

holidays with the weasley family were always chaotic to say the least. it seemed every year a new person stayed for christmas in the burrow, most notably in recent years harry and hermione joining their best friend ron–this year, the family home saw you as its new addition. 

the weasley family home had been filled to the brim since the birth of ginny, and the addition of companions only brightened it with more love. 

on christmas morning, everyone who didn’t own one already (or miraculously lost their original) received their first of molly’s many knitted sweaters, all personalized with their first initial. you’d never forget the first christmas you reunited with the twins wearing their own sweaters. 

“did mrs. weasley make those so she could remember which of you is which?” you asked. 

“mother says she could never forget who is who, which i guess is why i’m wearing his sweater, and he’s wearing mine,” fred would reply. 

when the day came for you to receive your own, the twins had visibly outgrown the jumpers you first saw them in, instead adorning new pairs to fit their growing builds. 

“molly, it’s beautiful! i dreamed of the day i’d get my own,” you said, running your fingers along the woollen fabric. 

“i’m glad you like it dear- and look, now you match freddie and georgie.” 

your head whipped in the direction of the two boys to confirm her words, and she was right. you matched fred and george from the overall blue color to the yellow letter. 

the way they looked at you then, you knew you could get used to matching sweaters. 

— 

you were purely friends with the twins up until your shared sixth year when they went to the yule ball with angelina johnson and katie bell. sure, the way they looked at you for the past year and a half had you questioning everything you felt for them. and sure, having them next to you at every given moment–closely, at that–made you think things friends wouldn’t dare say out loud- but this was a whole new level. 

molly had sent all the hogwarts attending weasley children outfits to wear to the ball; ginny a bright pink and mint gown, ron a very explicit hand me down likely of bill or percy’s, and the twins looked dashing in their matching suits. but you knew they could look even better, each hanging off one of your arms. 

instead you had the pleasure of watching both fred and george dance multiple rounds with their dates, while you sat next to harry and ron, also bummed out by how terrible the evening had gone. 

“they wanted to go with you, you know.” 

you jumped, turning your head to hermione who seemed to be itching to escape the crowd. 

“don’t be silly hermione, we’re just friends.” you muttered as you chewed on your lips, effectively removing them of any color you stained them with. “besides, you saw how eager they were when they asked angelina and katie in potions.” 

“or they were just trying to tease ron, you know how brothers are.” hermione looked at you with pity, as if there was someone she had hoped would ask her to the ball as well. 

the moment you decided to guess who she’d hoped would have asked her, your eyes scanned the crowd for either fred or george. it was futile for a second, until on either side of the floor you noticed both twins sneaking a glance back at you, both still occupied in dances with their dates. 

“hermione,” you began, tone laced with shyness despite how loud the music drowned your words out, “how would i know if my feelings surpassed friendly?” 

— 

it only took a day for feelings to be admitted by all three parties, only taking half of another for you to find yourself sandwiched in bed by both of the twins. robes had been discarded by the door, and you weren’t even sure you’d be able to find your scarf considering how long it had been gone. 

the boys sat knee to knee with you straddling both their laps, george to your front and fred to your back. they worked together to pull your hair off your neck, and then to unleash your tie from its collar, effectively exposing your bare skin to them. 

it didn’t feel real when the warmth of fred’s lips ghosted your skin, not even a semblance of it when they finally latched on. the amount of times you dreamt of them touching you intimately could not have prepared you for the feeling. 

“does it feel good when he kisses you like that?” george teased knowing you wouldn’t be able to catch your breath in time to reply. 

“yes georgie- fuck,” you moaned as fred bit down and sucked like a man tasked with marking you as his own. “freddie, people will see..” 

“let them love, they’d put the pieces together soon anyways.” he bit down again only a couple inches away from the first love bite, effectively securing the notion of nosy onlookers creating their own story to tell off. 

and tell off they would when every week new patches would show on your neck. the twins took turns marking you in places just indecent enough to turn heads, but not enough to solidify any real narrative about the three of you. 

a couple of weeks of people swearing they saw you snogging both twins at once in the gryffindor common room had at least one person becoming bold enough to ask you how you really felt about fred and george:

“they’re like my brothers, really.” 

— 

happy valentines day <3

[archersartcorner]

Totally understand this isn’t everyone’s thing, but unfortunately for y’all I love fucked up family dynamics, SO

[problematic-maleslash-polls]

Do you ship it?

Problematic Reasons: Brothers + very contentious relationship

Propaganda: I believe that their relationship and love for each other is only enhanced by all the fighting in their youth and season one. In season two, they’re a great duo, and help each other out when possible. Their personalities contrast each other (Luther being very polite, Diego being brash), and Diego helps to save Luther from of the sheltered worldview he carried into adulthood. Growing up there was lots of competition— Diego wanted badly to be the strongest and trained accordingly, and Luther was just the golden boy, already perfect— and the both of them are still immature around one another in that aspect. There’s contrast to be considered regarding Luther’s self destructive tendencies and Diego’s “my body is a temple” attitude. Luther idolized their father while Diego hated him. They’re both just big dumb boys, and they both want to be loved so badly— why not find it with each other?

[lcvegasms-archive]

trigger warning : incest | don’t like, block

I’ve been consuming all the caleb content lately and it’s got me thinking…

being the best little sister and helping out your older brother caleb. letting him use you whenever and wherever he wants.

letting him use your pretty mouth, his thick cock tapping against your tongue before slowly sliding inside. threading his fingers through your hair, guiding you all the way down until your nose is touching his pelvis. he holds your head down for a few seconds, just to see your eyes water before letting you go.

when you’re sitting on the couch watching a movie, cuddled close and wrapped in a blanket, caleb pulls you even closer so there’s no room between your bodies. when you turn to look at him, he just smiles, using a half assed excuse of “I’m cold.”

his fingers play with the hem of your his shirt for a while before slipping underneath to trace random patterns on your skin. caleb places a kiss on your head, your shoulder, your neck. his teeth nips at your skin, leaving small bruises while his large hands continue to roam. he’s touching you all over but completely avoiding where he knows you want him the most.

“cal…please.” you’re all but grinding against him now that he’s work you up, desperate for relief. “hm?” he feins innocence but you can hear the smirk in his words. “did you need something, princess?”

“please,” you whine again, pushing your ass against his erection and this time he relentes, chuckling softly. “okay, pretty girl.” he slips his hand inside your panties, letting out a deep groan. “fuck baby. you’re soaked and i’ve barely even touched you.”

you’re laying in his bed getting ready to study…or you were getting ready to study until he walked in and saw you laying there all prettily. now your face is buried in the pillows while his is buried between your legs devouring your cunt like it’s the last thing he’ll ever do before he dies.

— slvttysage <3

[crybaby-bkg]

Flying the Coop

Gojo and Getou were supposed to love you as much as they loved each other. You even let them turn you into a vampire, so that you could all stay together forever. So why do you still feel like such an outsider?

Warnings: vampirism, human reader turned to a vampire, being referred to as nestling and little one, emotional manipulation, guilt tripping, coercion, cunnilingus, ass play, reader referred to as she/her, double penetration in one hole, cervix fucking, and lots of blood and biting. please let me know if I forgot anything and please enjoy!!

Word Count: 4.8k

Also available on Ao3!

Minors/blank/ageless blogs DNI!

Fuck Gojo Satoru and Getou Suguru. You didn’t need them anymore than they needed you, which wasn’t at all. They might’ve been the oldest vampires in the area, probably on earth, but you didn’t give a single fuck if they were only going to treat you like a pet. Not as an equal, despite your newly turned status, but as something they could gawk at and fuss over before pushing away to the end of the bed. Before you became something to grow tired of, before they fell back into each other, their love centuries older than you could ever comprehend, before you could ever fully mesh into their daily lives. 

As a human, you had been drawn to them since you were young and had heard tales of the devils living on the top of the hill. How they never grew old, how some of the townsfolk had gone missing over the years, how they only ever appeared at night, seemingly stepping right out of the shadows. But you weren’t scared of them; you never were. 

Although, you do tremble when you go knocking on their door one night, entire body lit up in anxiety and anticipation and worry for whether or not you’ll make it to the next morning. You try to hold your chin up high when the door creaks open ever so slowly—they always had a thing for the dramatics—and find two pairs of curious eyes meeting you on the other side. 

You ask to be their familiar, claiming to know what they are, how shitty they are at hiding it since you guys aren’t in the eighteenth century anymore. You fear that you might’ve said too much, become too snippy with such ancient beings, but they only laugh at you. Satoru did, especially, with his alarmingly bright blue eyes and shock of white hair, holding his stomach with his hand as he let out an almost screech of a laugh. Suguru had joined him with a smaller chuckle, shaking his head, his untied hair falling in thick strands across his face. 

And without much further preamble, do they let you in. Agree to let you become their familiar, even though they claim to not have had one in centuries, as humans lives are just so unnecessarily short. You should’ve known then that they were up to something, that the plan in the long run was never to keep you as a human pet. No, you were far too interesting, too new, too shiny, too pretty, for them to ever want to let you go. 

Five years into being Satoru and Suguru’s familiar, do they turn you into a vampire alongside them. You tell yourself that you wanted the transformation, but you start to think back on the idea now, wonder if it was ever an original thought, question when the idea first popped up on its own without their influence. The idea was always pretty cool to you; you could develop different and unique powers, you would be super fast, have pretty long fangs which was definitely a plus, but—

But you never truly wanted this for yourself, did you? A lonely nobody, exiled from their family for wanting to live with devils, turned away from by the people who used to love you when you were small. And now you had to walk the earth alone for the rest of your days, killing the people who used to look just like you, who you used to share bread with, spill blood together. And now, here you are; stealing it like the air from their lungs, greedy, your belly never truly full, always just on the precipice of starvation. 

Suguru says this stage will past eventually, that you’re just a nestling for now, still always hungry, still wanting to feed from its mothers mouth. But you have never known starvation to be so consuming, that all you can think about is filling your mouth with hot blood until it pools from your lips, only to follow the trail with your tongue until there are no traces left. 

You never really wanted to be a vampire, did you? You never wanted to live forever, to have to see all of your favorite people die, to learn to love new ones, just for them to leave you as well. You never wanted to hide in the shadows—the sun feels so good on your skin, its warmth, its softness a comfort against flesh that welcomed its heat. You miss the sun. You miss being able to go out during the day and laugh with others that didn’t cower at the mere sight of you. 

Satoru says this stage will pass eventually, that you’re just a nestling for now, still always yearning for a life that never served you any good. He tells you that you’ll learn to appreciate your new body, tells you how overrated the sun is, that being able to walk the streets at night without fear is better than any warmth the sun could give you. Besides, he had said, if you need warmth, I know a few ways to heat up the body? 

The undead body, you had to remind him, that never once inched up in temperature, that was always just a touch too icy for your liking when you were still human. And now look at you; as cold as them, thirstier than you’ve ever been in your entire life. It was selfish. The entire act of turning you was selfish. 

But at least you all could be a couple now, right? At least you would finally be one of them, on their level, despite the seemingly eons amount of distance of age between you and the other immortals? You would finally be more than just a pet, right? Right? 

How desperate you were to be right. How terrible that you couldn’t be more wrong. 

You were always just a plaything for them. Something they promised held an equal amount of weight in the relationship, but you were nothing more than a shared pup, something for them to love on and fuck and nuzzle against, but never something permeant, something more concrete. 

They had laughed at your outburst, only a few weeks after being turned. How your eyes had gone red and you started floating from the floor, your mouth stretched wide and your fangs bared so long. You only looked like a child throwing a temper tantrum, your fangs mere baby teeth that they couldn’t wait to coo over after ripping them from your head. 

“Little nestling,” Suguru had cooed, arms stretched open from where he sat on the expansive love seat, a tiny smile twitching at the corners of his mouth. “Stop making such a fuss and come lay down. You’ll tire yourself out much too quickly.” 

It was like you were talking to a brick wall, one that only ever viewed you as something tiny and petulant. Like you could be soothed by being cradled, rocked to sleep and easily taken care of, like your outburst and anger was simply a reason of your near constant hunger. Like you were less than them. (But you always have been, haven’t you? You’ve only ever been something so new and fresh and tiny? Never quite equal? Never quite measuring up?) 

“Cmon, little one,” Satoru had cooed next, his tone dripping in sarcasm, as he, too, opened his arms in invitation, mocking. “Come lay with mommy and daddy so we can make you feel better.” 

You could only stand there, floating back down to the floor as your anger washed away from you. A cold feeling sunk in instead, something detached, something so hurt and broken, that every unnecessary inhale felt like a sharp stab to your lungs. Their bickering about who was mommy and who was daddy fell on deaf ears, your eyes fading back to a normal color as you slowly turn away from them. 

They don’t even notice you’re gone, until your scent is only a lingering smell lingering by the front doors that you’ve left open. You hadn’t taken anything but the clothes on your back as you left, both hurt and angry that they didn’t come after you. That they let you wander for weeks and weeks alone. 

That was the curse of vampirism, wasn’t it? Needing companionship? Needing someone to be by your side? So why did they need you? Why make you when they already had each for so fucking long—why drag you into their arms, why hold onto you so tight, why—why did they let you go so easily? Why didn’t they fight for you? 

No other vampire would care for you as much as they did, not with their scent permanently mingled in with your own. Satoru and Suguru were some of the oldest, most strongest vampires to have ever walked the earth. Every other vampire knew not to fuck with them, nor the things that they staked claim on. It only made immortal life harder. 

You were still just a nestling, determined to prove yourself a fledgeling but—but hunting was so hard. You rarely had to do it on your own, always had Satoru catch the humans, Suguru dispose of the body. Now you had to do all of that without getting caught, without making too much of a scene wherever you went. You couldn’t—you couldn’t do it. 

Admitting defeat hurt more than you had expected it to, but you couldn’t remember the last time you ate, and you were only growing weaker by the days. Suguru found you, on the verge of being swallowed whole by the sun, laying on their front door steps, hand still posed midair to knock, too weak from hunger to do anything but lay there and die. 

Suguru only chuckled at the sight of you. Scooped up your limp body as if you weighed nothing, tutting at you the entire time under his breath, but you could just barely make out his smile. 

“Look at what I found decaying by our front door,” Suguru said after climbing the many steps, depositing you on the end of the bed that Satoru laid on, the curtains drawn to swallow the room in darkness. He lays you down gently, his touch cold, your body stiff, your stomach curling in on itself with hunger. 

“It took you too long to come home, little one.” Satoru had pouted, slithering down the bed until he hovered above you. He noted your chapped lips and faded eyes, how you kept easing in and out of consciousness. He smiled at the weak sight of you, holding his hand out as Suguru pattered over to the other side of the room, opening up the glass case that held too much blood for only two—three—vampires. Suguru hummed softly to himself as he poured a nice, heavy glass, passing it to Satoru as he sat beside your head, the blue eyed man grinning above you. 

“Do you want to feed, little one?” Satoru asks softly when you’re conscious enough to focus on his gaze, having the nerve to look just a tad bit scared, hopeless. You can only pout your lips the way you know he likes, always the one to concede so easily to your wishes. But Suguru tuts from beside you, positioning your head in his lap as he helps you sit up ever so slightly, Satoru pressing the rim of the cup to your lips. But he doesn’t tilt it, keeps the sweet smelling blood so close, yet so far from reach. You’re too weak to grab it for yourself, always so dependent on them, just the way they like it. 

“Then you have to promise to never, ever leave us again, little nestling.” Suguru says quietly, but his voice is firm. He holds your jaw tight in his hands, stops you from even getting a drip of blood between the cracks of your lips. He waits until you look up at him, his eyes a deep plum, his mouth set in a thin line. 

“Do you promise?” Satoru asks softly, teasing the cup to his own mouth, a threat to take it all away if you don’t comply, conform to their fucked up family where your only role is to always be chosen second. 

“I promise.” You croak out, coughing from the dryness of your throat, already starting to fade out of consciousness again from the lack of eating in so long. 

“Good,” Suguru hums, finally easing his grip from your jaw to allow Satoru to tip the cup to your mouth. “We’ll make a blood promise then.” 

You’re not sure if you hear the last part correctly, too busy wincing at how your fangs burst from your gums, how they bite into the glass cup that Satoru pours into your mouth. You try to sit up on your own, take the cup from him, but Suguru only nestles you into his grip, nuzzling you against his stomach, Satoru holding firm on the cup, controlling just how much you guzzle down second by second. 

“Poor little nestling,” Satoru coos with a chuckle. “Couldn’t even hunt on her own for a few weeks. You still can’t even hold your neck up by yourself, little one.” He presses gentle, soft kisses to the roundness of your cheek, watching the way you quickly start to gather your strength with every passing second, every swallow of the thick nectar. 

“But that’s okay, right, Satoru?” Comes Suguru’s teasing voice, running a finger down the slope of your neck, holding his palm there to feel the way you swallow. “She’ll never be able to leave us again. Our very own little nestling to take care of.” 

“Its time for us to take care of our little one now, don’t you think?” Satoru asks, pulling away the now empty cup, taking in the panting sight of you. You look so much like you did the day you left, all pouty and confused, wanting to be so big and strong on your own, not knowing that the umbilical cord was never actually cut. 

When you don’t answer, Satoru tilts your chin up to face him, Suguru dipping his head down to trace the faint lines of blood that escaped from the corners of your mouth with the tip of his tongue. You try to bite back a whimper, feeling much more like prey than you ever have, even when you were still human. 

“So weak and depleted.” Suguru hums, pulling you into his lap as he eases both himself and you to lay against the pillows at the top of the bed. He cradles your body against his own, your upper half curled toward him to lap at the blood that coats your teeth, your tiny little fangs. You pull away ever so slightly to watch Satoru crawl up the bed in front of you, akin to a snow leopard, all deadly predator with that glint in his eyes, with the way his smile curls up deviously at the corners. 

“What do you think, baby?” Satoru asks, but you’ve never had much choice in this relationship, have you? You nod, only to appease them, but you know they would’ve taken what they wanted anyway, in the end. And what they want—what they’ve wanted from you—was your pleasure. Even if it meant they never got off, even if it meant they would miss out on days and days of sleep just to torture you with their mouths and hands and cocks—its all they’ve ever wanted. 

Was it boredom, that had settled into their relationship? Is that why they had changed things up, brought you along with them? To be some plaything? To keep you needy and dependent on them, because what other vampires would worship you the way they did? What other vampires would spoil you? Hunt for you, clean for you, and fuck you nice and heavy after until you were drunk on being full, in more ways than you could count? 

So you lay there, and you take it. Let them do whatever they want to you, because they’ve always known whats best for you, more than you ever have for yourself, haven’t they? 

Suguru strips off his shirt as Satoru peels your own dirtied and tattered layers from your skin until you’re bared in front of them. Suguru guides your head to his chest, his nipple grazing your mouth as he forces your lips open, prying them apart with thick fingers. 

“You’ll need some of my blood, little nestling, to heal even faster.” He tells you, grazing his thumb on your elongated fangs until his skin splits open, dripping a few droplets of crimson into your mouth. “Bite me, right here, and feed.” 

You’re too high on the addictive taste of such old, powerful blood to care that he’s directing you to bite him right over his nipple, to suckle from his chest like the babe he’s always looked at you as. You’re too high on the taste of him to care about the sight you make; your head cradled in the thick bicep of his arm, his hair untied and casting a shadow over your face, his thumb caressing your cheek as you suckle around his nipple until his blood leaks from the corners of your mouth. 

Satoru only chuckles under his breath at the sight as he settles himself between your thighs, sticky and soft from the aphrodisiac that flows in Suguru’s blood. It was one of the special powers he was gifted after being turned so long ago, a secret that only the two of them share. It makes moments like these all the more intoxicating, knowing that you’ll be begging for both of them in mere minutes. 

Satoru bites you without warning, his thicker, longer fangs seemingly touching bone from how deep they reside in your skin. You whimper at the feeling, unable to pull away from Suguru’s chest as you grip the soft locks of Satoru’s hair. He bites from your stomach, to your inner thighs, your mound. His lips pull back from his teeth as he hovers over your swelling clit, in threat, in promise, laughing under his breath when you grip his hair even tighter and cry out around Suguru’s breast. 

“I’m only kidding, little one,” Satoru teases, pressing a bloody kiss to your folds, wet and loud and smacking. Your hips jerk slightly in response, body relaxing ever so slowly as you continue to swallow mouthfuls of Suguru’s blood, your head feeling light and heavy as the pleasure overcomes you. 

“So sensitive,” Suguru notes as he plucks your nipple from where he cradles you, how you whine in response, how you push your hips toward Satoru’s waiting, red mouth. 

He licks you, from your wet little hole to the tip of your clit, and when that isn’t enough, he repositions you until your thighs rest on his shoulders. Your ass doesn’t even touch the bed anymore, and thats the way he likes it, as Satoru carves a path from your rim to the top of your cunt. He licks you like that again and again until you’re dripping, slick and blood sliding from your pelvis to messy onto the old and expensive sheets beneath you. 

“Did you miss this, little nestling?” Suguru asks, cupping your cheek so that you could blink up at him through thick, fluttering lashes. Your lips are swollen from how much you’ve drunk from him, mouth red and pretty, draining him so much, but he can’t help but indulge you just a bit more. His baby, his sweet little thing. 

“How about this?” Satoru asks when you don’t answer fast enough, sucking your clit into his mouth as if the nub fills the entirety of it. He sucks at your clit the same way you’ve seen him suck Suguru’s cock; like its a mouthful, like the tip of it hits the back of his throat. But the pleasure is too good to complain, your eyes rolling into the back of your head as your hips cant against his face, mouth falling away from Suguru’s tit. 

“Yes,” you pant, holding onto Satoru’s hair as he swallows thickly like your clit fills his mouth, holding your hips steady to fuck the throbbing little thing against his thick tongue. “Missed you both so much. S’sorry, I’m so sorry for leaving,” you slur, blood still thick and heavy against your teeth and gums, but they only coo at the desperate sight of you. 

“Poor baby,” Suguru mockingly pouts, slipping his fingers into your mouth, coated in his own blood, fucking them down your throat. You can’t stop your gagging, nor does Suguru want you to, his cock throbbing at the way your throat closes around his digits. He fingers your fang as he pulls his own out, gripping it between his forefinger and thumb, a threat. 

“You know, bad nestlings usually get their fangs ripped out by their sires when they disobey.” Suguru says softly, so easily, you would’ve thought that he was confessing his undying love to you with that tone. You want to panic, you tell yourself to get up, rip yourself away from them, save yourself, but you feel too good to do anything but lay there. You’re so close to coming; Satoru’s tongue feels so good against your clit, Suguru’s fingers stuff your mouth so good. 

“What do you think, Satoru?” He asks, tipping your head back with his grip on your fang, leaning down to ghost his own over the swell of your cheek. 

“I’m gonna cum,” you whimper around his finger in your mouth, your voice lost beneath the slurping of Satoru against your clit, the teasing words of Suguru. 

“Be nice, Suguru,” the blue eyed man says quickly before attaching himself back to your clit, lashing his tongue against the swollen and fat bud. 

“Always so easy and quick to forgive, hmm?” Suguru teases, still not letting go of your fang, still holding you on the precipice of explosion. When he pulls ever so slightly, and when Satoru sucks your clit harshly into his mouth, do you finally tip over the edge. Cum so hard that your entire body spasms, your cries loud and echoing in the quiet house, trembling all over until you suck in a breath that you don’t need. 

As you come down from your high, you feel them moving you, rearranging you until you’re nestled between them, Satoru at your front as he kisses you sloppily with wetted lips. Suguru presses open mouthed kisses along your nape and shoulders, biting every so often just to hear you exhale shakily. 

“I’m sorry,” you mumble after a few seconds of silence, burying your face in Satoru’s chest. He hums, rubbing at your flank as he positions your thigh to hook over his own, Suguru nuzzling in closer as you feel his cock poke at your inner thigh. You should’ve known that this wasn’t over yet, that they wouldn’t let you off so easily with just one orgasm. It was barely morning yet. For your insolence, you’d be lucky if they let you free anytime in the next month. 

“Show us how sorry you are by taking both of us at the same time,” Satoru whispers into your hair, his own cock sliding against Suguru’s as they fight for the space between you. You open your mouth to agree; its nothing new, letting them fuck you at the same time, one in your pussy, the other in your ass. But only then do you realize, that they mean in the same hole at once. 

“I-I don’t—”

“I thought you were so remorseful about leaving us all high and dry for so long?” Suguru asks from behind you, sliding his cock between your slick lips. 

“I am, but you guys haven’t even prepped me,” you’re cut off again by Satoru this time, who rubs his tip against Suguru’s, your slick the lube for them. 

“This new body of yours adjusts and heals so much faster than your old one. Why not try it out now?” He asks, tilting your head up so that you’re fully consumed by his gaze, by the blood that still stains his mouth, the brightness of his eyes in the dark room. 

You’re not sure you’re even allowed to say no. 

So you let them do whatever they please with you, as you always have, so dependent on their word and how well they’ll take care of you. It hurts, the way they stretch you, both pushing inside of your too small cunt at the same time. You cry out that it won’t fit, that one of them should’ve entered first then the other, that your ass is still an option. But they ignore you, kissing each other over your head, swallowing their own moans and gasps of pleasures as their cocks kiss inside of you, nestled much too close to your cervix. 

You feel like your entire lower half is ripping and splitting itself into two from the painful stretch; Satoru’s cock is so long, Suguru’s is so thick. You think you can taste them in the back of your throat when they finally settle both of their cocks inside of you, filling you to the brim. Vampires can’t cry, they can’t breathe, but you take a wet, shuddering inhale as you bury your face into Satoru’s neck, wrapping your arms around him as you struggle to adjust. 

But then, Suguru’s bleeding wrist is thrust in front of your face, and your head is so light, you don’t think twice before drinking from him. Letting his essence flow into you, how it suddenly makes the pain subside into something pleasurable, how you suddenly feel like two cocks stuffed in your hole is just enough. 

“Fuck me,” you whisper when Suguru gently pries his wrist from your mouth, smearing the still leaking blood against Satoru’s parted lips. He licks them, grinning, giving Suguru a knowing look over your head as they communicate silently. 

Satoru moves first, quick and much too harsh if you were still a human. You were sure you’d break if so, with the way his claws dig into your sides and how he pistons his hips much too fast for any regular eye to see. Suguru follows him at his own pace, leisurely, but deep, his tip kissing against your cervix with every thrust, until you’re sure he’s close to fucking into your womb. 

The differences of their paces is otherworldly, makes your crying out and moaning a jumbled mess of chords amongst their own noises. Sometimes they’re both inside of you at the same time, their tips fighting to press against your cervix at once, and other times, only Satoru’s tip is inside while Suguru nuzzles deep inside of you. The differences of their sizes makes your head spin, feeling like they’re touching you everywhere, inside and out. 

Satoru’s mouth is on yours; Suguru’s stealing you from him, his fangs pressed against your tongue; Satoru reaches around to push a finger inside of your ass with a bloodied and slicked digit; Suguru presses around to rub your clit with thick fingers, stuffing an extra finger in your already full hole just to feel you tighten up around them even more. They’re mean, laughing at your whimpers and cries, using you again and again until you burst around them, squirting all over their cocks, making an even bigger mess on the already ruined sheets. 

“Fuck, I missed feeling you cum on our cocks,” Satoru moans, scissoring two fingers inside your ass as Suguru keeps fingering at your clit, making your hips jerk and spasm as you try to claw your way out of their grips. 

“Cmon, you got one more in there for us, don’t you, little one?” Suguru teases, laughing when you vigorously shake your head and claw at his arm, drawing more blood to messy the three of you. They don’t take you seriously though, knowing that they’ll force it out of you if need be. 

And they do exactly that; fucking you, touching you everywhere, with their mouths, their hands, their cocks, until you cum again, squeezing them so hard that they reach their own peaks. Neither of them pull out, filling you up so thickly with their cum, you think you can taste it in the back of your throat. Your stomach feels heavy, as you imagine it bloating from how much they spill inside of you, both biting at different parts of your body as they spill rope after thick, hot rope of cum inside your aching pussy. 

And even then, when you’re spent and aching and tired and dripping with more cum than you thought possible; its not enough. Nothing has ever satisfied them, and you’re not sure if anything ever will. Not until you break for them, just so they could build you back up, put your pieces back together again. Only then are you sure, that you’ll finally be enough for them and their greed.  

thank you all so much for reading! likes/reblogs/comments/asks are so greatly appreciated ♥️

[gladiatorcunt]

- DIRT IN CHAINS | X.

i can’t wait for the nights with you, i imagine the things we’ll do

cw: kinktober prompt (feet), semi crack treated seriously (he just comes back and says footjob. now.), pseudo incest (step brother & step sister), no shelly or chris 💀, set in the 90’s with brandon lee’s eric, small-ish age gap (reader’s in her early 20’s), fem ballerina!reader, random kurt cobain crush mention, implied inappropriate behavior when reader was 18 and after (nothing explicit but it could be seen as done with certain intent), attempted non con mention (not involving eric or reader)

please do not repost, translate, or feed this work to ai

kinktober 2024

Body of my body, flesh of my flesh, bone of my bone.

If you serve a chunk of still bleeding meat to a gruesome stray dog, then that is love. If you toss a coin to a crow with a glint in its beady eyes, that too is love. Even when you scoff and grumble at the perceived inconvenience and continue your jaunt down the muddy alleyway. You are assuring an animal that you believe it deserves to have its hunger sated and tended to like a toothache. don’t be surprised when gangrene sets in around your ankles and wrists, bracelets made of red jade. They bite for the same reason that you sharpen their teeth and beaks with roadkill and gemstones. It is life’s greatest gift to ever be well fed, such neglect can open a void from which there is no escape. If only your heart could plug up the hole.

The most painful sentences in existence are hypotheticals that start with if. That's why this will be nothing of the sort, hunting season will be successful.

Your step brother Eric was shot about a month ago the night before halloween, and you’re coping by robotically moving through life as if it couldn’t happen to you too. It’s all too easy to succumb to the panic and the grief but you’ve never been wired that way, it’s safer for you to retreat into a cocoon of numbness.

You don’t want to think about where the woman he saved from being raped is, as happy as you are that she’s okay. Knowing any of that would only remind you of the knife Eric got thrown into his back before he was thrown from her apartment window. He lived in the same building and like the good guy your step brother was at heart, burst in the room with the best intentions.

His good deed got him killed, and all you’ve done is play his music on repeat as you rot in your bed. He’d want you to continue your ballet career, hell, he showed up to your recitals and performances more than your own mother. You always ignored how his presence made you feel simultaneously relaxed and confident but also so stressed you’d be worried about pissing yourself on the stage.

Wide smiles and long dark hair that glistened in the theater’s warm lightning, he would always be the one to stand up and whistle first.

Eric’s favorite ballet was your ballet company’s Swan Lake. He kept a picture of you as Odette in one of the pockets of his leather jacket.

Your parents had only been married 4 years, but you’ve changed a lot from the starry eyed 18 year old that mooned over your older step brother and tripped over your pointe shoes.

Your dad started teaching you how to play guitar before he left, when you were 5 and your chubby hands plucked at the wrong strings. Eric wouldn’t leave you alone when you told him the story, and spent an entire weekend getting you caught up on your missed lessons until you both had a swarm of blisters on your fingers.

Now you’ll never see him again, never get caught in the rain when you’ve begged him to drive you home and wish you could tuck a strand of his wet hair behind ear, never hump your pillow and muffle your sounds into your balled up fists because he’s staying in the next room and you have to be quiet.

You’ll never see him with his band again, caught in that weird space between a groupie and a supportive family member. He liked to embarrass you, make big shows out of looking directly at you and coming to the edge of the stage to poke your cheek. He’d ruffle your hair and your cheeks would be so hot, one wrong burst of electricity from the wires attached to their instruments and you’d go up in flames.

You never told your mom but you always wanted a brother, you should’ve known you weren’t gonna have him for very long.

Hangman’s Joke. God, you wish.

“Hey, peach, ya miss me?”

Hand on your heart you think you’re dreaming at first, but you’ve never really had any dreams where Eric was front and center. He haunts all your other ones, regular strange ones where you’re running around department stores and fucking Kurt Cobain but someintes he turns into your step brother, sometimes you fuck them both.

You shoot up in bed, the straps of your lavender silk nightie slip down your shoulders so you pull them back. It’s the middle of the night, and your vision is blurry, but when your eyes focus properly you see him standing in front of your bed.

It’s Eric, your brother, you don’t even care if there was a gas leak overnight that’s got you fucked up or if this reslly is a dream. You can’t pretend to be fine anymore if he’s right here in front of you, suddenly there’s an umbrella over your head in the pouring rain again.

“Eric, oh my god, what the fuck! How are you even- I mean- How the fuck are you alive?”

He sighs, tonguing his cheek and shaking his head. “I’ll tell you all about it later, I promise, ‘m tired, peach. Missed my girl, didn’t she miss me?”

It’s a little cruel because of course you have, but the dulcet tones lull you into nodding. You don’t want to cry, and you’re scared to reach out to touch him because of the chance that he might disappear. Eric’s haunted eyes soften, and he intertwines his bizarrely muddy fingers with yours. There’s warmth, and maybe it’s just your hummingbird heart but you feel a soft rhythmic thumping under his skin.

It’s different, slow as molasses, more like the chiming of a grandfather clock. But Jesus fucking Christ he’s real.

Your sham of a facade shatters as you bring your joined hands down to your breasts, forcing his knuckles to press into your sternum.

Eric pushes you back down on the bed, his knees dig into the mattress on either side of your hips. His stare is intense, dark and enticing as he reaches down to curl his hand around your calves.

“I used to be obsessed with uh, vampires, ain’t that a bitch?” He chuckles, massaging your ankles and staring off into space. “All that mysticism and unimaginable power and all I could focus on was the way they talked about their cravings. How they get hunger pangs like a normal fuckin’ and it’s bearable until it’s not, it consumes them like they’re boilin’ from the inside out.”

You suck in a breath, Eric’s eyes flick over to you immediately.

“Then I look at you and i’m right back in rehab, toes curlin’ at the thought of getting high again. I think I know how those bloodsuckers feel.”

“Eric- Don’t say that.” Your heart seizes up, but you keep yourself from falling off the ledge.

He kisses your ankle, his black lipstick leaving a stain as he leaves a trail of carnage up to your toes. His lips split wide on a fox’s smile, slipping his tongue in the crease between your toes and sucking each one clean, almost like he’s trying to eat your flesh off the bone. He nuzzles his nose into the sole and inhales deeply, taking in the dirt you didn’t wash off in the shower, the plastic hospital smell from your bath mat, your cherry almond scented body wash.

“Yes, all i fuckin’ need, right here.” He whispers, staring at you dead in your eyes.

He flicks his tongue out to taste the high arch of your foot as his hand caresses your still bruised toes. But they’re faded, you quit ballet a long time ago.

“You have pretty feet, y’know that? Always liked helping you lace up your slippers.” Eric laughs “You’d get so fussy about me doin’ them properly but you’d kiss my cheek after, all sweet on me.”

He lavishes every inch of both your feet with his tongue in broad strokes, making out with your toes because he can’t resist sucking them into his mouth one more time.

You moan, fisting your hands in your nightie, your step brother’s back from the afterlife apparently and the first thing he wants to do is get a footjob from his step sister.

Eric tucks his hair behind his ears so he doesn’t have to bother with it for right now, you can tell that this is like one of those moments on stage, he wants your full attention.

He’ll always have it.

You’re the one that pulls your feet out of his grip to slide them down to his crotch. You keep eye contact as you massage his clothed bulge with your toes, rubbing your heel into his balls and applying light pressure here and there.

You blink up at him, too innocent and too worn down by life already all at the same time, “Like that, big brother? Does that feel good?”

Eric grunts, wrapping his hands back around your ankles and pushing your feet further onto his cock.

“Yeah, peach, feels so fuckin’ good, holy shit. Just like that, keep doin’ me like that, baby.”

You bite your lip, nearly tearing through the skin in your efforts to make your newly risen step brother jizz in his ripped jeans. You wish you had psychic powers and had the foresight to know he was coming over, you would’ve put on those socks with the frilly edges and a red rose stitched on the white fabric.

But he’s so worked up from this already, he’s breathing heavily and rocking his hips forward to hump your feet. He’s grinding his teeth together, already so close to unraveling from how much of a little tease you’re being.

You hum and turn your right foot to ghost the edge of your toenail around the tip of his cock. He groans as he twitches and a bead of pre seeps through his clothes, you can trace the outline of his length so clearly you know he’s not wearing any underwear.

The look in his crazed eyes reminds you of all the times he’d take you to the attic of his loft, making up scary stories and playing guitar with you. When you turned 21 he surprised you with a cheesy golden heart shaped locket, with a picture of you two at your parent’s wedding, joking about how awkward you look with each other there. Eric’s penguin style suit and your agitated face that’s partially covered by gaudy turquoise puffy cap sleeves.

He chuckled and said that every time you look at it, you’ll feel nothing but happiness for what those two losers are about to experience.

Part of that experience is you curling your feet around his clothed cock while giving him just enough of a view of your hairy pussy, you forgot to put a pad on so there’s some blood trickling out of you that Eric is just so utterly enraptured by.

His groans are death rattles now, long and pain stricken, at some point he stops humping your feet and lets you worship him like this. Eric kneeling above you, drooling deep in the back of his throat at the sight of his baby sister caressing his painfully hard dick with her cute dancer’s feet.

Your mind is filled with all the pretty shoes you can put on and do this again, you just got a new camera as an early birthday present too.

“You can come if you promise not to leave again, Eric, I'll hunt you down and kill you myself this time.” You promise, digging the ball of your feet into his perineum.

“I crawled out of the earth back to you, didn’t I? Couldn’t let my sweet peach perform alone, she gets stage fright.”

He comes in his pants and you continue to gingerly move your feet along his length, soaking up the cum that wets your toes like a sunflower does sunlight at golden hour.

[sunnyissweet]

IM BAAAAAAAACCCKKK <3333 hoping to gain my moots bacc

[sky-kiss]

Orin/GN!Durge: Pride (18+)

A/N: Look just. I dunno. There's that fun lil' solo-satisfaction challenge going around but this is NOT tagged for that because no one should be burdened with Orin lol. But like...I thought it'd be a fun character study? So... now this exists. I'm sorry.

Orin/GN!Durge: Look, by Orin Standards this is Tame

Pride drives her to her bloodkin's bed. They are gone again, off to do the slave-lord's bidding. It tears at her. The memory of their last exchange haunts her, heavy like a touch, like lips tracking up her spine, a tongue pressing to the small of her back.

"Off again, is it? You fly from our pasture so often these days. Our sheep whisper, bloodkin." 

They smile, so pretty, so pale, teeth white, white, white—she likes them better flecked with blood, sank deep into the throat of their shared kills. "And what do Bhaal's sheep say?" 

Pride is why she touches herself. Bhaal's Chosen needs reminding. Orin slips beneath their sheets, leaving her scent on them. She winces, fingers dipping between her legs and finding herself dry. She rarely takes pleasure in something so banal, and the touch is such a little thing. Not sweet like a blade, barely anything at all. 

But she thinks, rotates the memory in her mind, and there. Better. 

"That you have made yourself the Tyrant's toy. Bane's Chosen, they say." 

And her bloodkin had laughed at her. Foolish Orin, fool child—always kept in the dark about their plans. Father’s plans. Orin bares her teeth, twisting. The sheets catch about her legs, silk-slippery, too soft, all of it. Hollow thing, empty thing—and the fingers are not enough, no, no. She thinks of the knife again (their knife, and Orin's stomach clenches, a sharp pang of arousal tearing through her), but cannot find the will to move.  The world narrows to a single point: their laugh. It echoes through her damned skull, slips its tendrils into her flesh, and so she slips a finger inside herself. 

Bhaal's Chosen crooks a finger, making her cross the space between them like one of their supplicants.  

Her heart thunders against its cage of bones, threatening to snap them, as her bloodkin's hand settles at the curve of her throat. They press—delicious pressure until the world's edges go black and curl inwards. "Sweet kin…you doubt our Dread Father?" They trace her cheek with their nose, voice like honey, syrupy-thick. Their left hand comes up, fingers curling against her clavicle, scratching, tapping, in time with her heart. 

She swallows, snarling. Tear it free, yes, tear the traitorous thing from her chest. It ought to have beat for Bhaal alone, but it hungered for her Bloodkin's touch. Weak-flesh, pathetic thing. She lifts her hips to press deeper. The moment she breaks from the memory, the pleasure washes back out to sea, and she cannot will it back. Orin thumps her fist against the mattress, turning her face into the pillow as if to suffocate herself with their scent. 

"The Lordling calls you away, and away you run. He bleats, and you turn your ear." 

Bhaal's Chosen ignores her. "Look at you." 

Her bloodkin hums, curling their fingers, breaking her skin. Orin chews the inside of her cheek hard enough to taste blood. It aches to have them close—like her flesh is too tight. Like it should give way. Heretical thoughts flood her head—they are flawed things. Father made them incomplete. Orin's stomach twists. The answer is to tear them open, yes. Crawl inside, stitch their seams to hers—only then can they be truly whole. 

"Sweet Orin…my gift." 

Orin turns onto her belly, letting instinct wash over her as she sinks further into the memory. Her hand shifts, bones rearranging, stretching, setting until it's their hand. All its familiar calluses, nails sharper, threaten to tear at her insides. Good. Good...oh, it is written, decreed. It is Father Bhaal's will that they should tear one another apart.

"It will be you and I at the end of all things." 

They have whispered this same promise to each other over the years. They will drown the world in blood and carnage. They will build their citadels with its bleached bones and stand amidst the hollowed shells of its corpses. They will kill and kill and kill until it is only them. 

Pleasure swells, and she whimpers, dragging her nails up her belly to cup her breast. She clutches until the flesh gives way. She must imagine it's her bloodkin's nails, taking those few millimeters to press nearer to their heart. 

Orin thinks of the light leaving their eyes, burying her dagger in their heart. Perhaps she will pierce their lungs first, yes—swallow the last of their air…

The changeling shudders, fucking herself harder, gasping at the thought of her kin's knife finding its mark between her ribs. Yes, together. They'll go together, just as promised, just as…

Orin pulls taut, her cry short and clipped. The savageness of her orgasm and its suddenness catches her by surprise, her body clenching on nothing first and then gripping her fingers hard enough to hurt as they press back inside. The longing, the hunger, the emptiness…oh, all these wretched sensations remain…she is never enough to chase these things away. 

It will take more whispers in the dark, more blood, more promises…it will take their lips on her throat and the press of them between her legs as they bask in a fresh kill…

…it will take death, yes. Their blood and flesh mingled. And then Orin will be satisfied. 

[echoes-lighthouse]

Watching s6 of ricky and morty because I erased all but one episode from my brain by accident- can’t believe rick proposed to morty in front of tony hawk. lovely beachfront wedding. good work everyone.

[shockinglysubmissive]

The Video

Shigaraki needed some porn, and Dabi was willing to provide it, at a cost of course.

Warning: pseudo-incest (video of sibling), masturbation, degradation, unprotected sex, humiliation

Solo Shigaraki and Dabi x Karuna (OC)

Word Count: 1.3k

Tag list (let me know if you want to be added/removed): @dabislittlebeaniebaby @daniidil @dabislittlemouse

Being a villain means having to go deep into the shadows. That means, no internet for months at a time.

"Come on Dabi. You brag about all the sexy videos the mystery girl sends you. Share. I need something good to beat my cock to." Shigaraki practically whines, gloved hands reaching for Dabi's phone.

"Fine. But I'm warning you. You will regret this in the end." The devious smirk on Dabi's face doesn't deter the scrawny man. Scrolling through an album of photos and videos, he finally selects his favorite. It was the longest one in the collection. "I'll show it on one condition. You aren't allowed to cum until..." His finger drag across the screen, zooming through the video. "25 minutes 46 seconds."

"Whatever. Just give me it!" Shigaraki wets his lips with his tongue, hungrily waiting for the video.

"I'm not showing you until you swear. And trust me, I'll know of you lied to me." Dabi says firmly, holding the phone away from his boss.

"Fine fine. I promise. Now give me." He snatches the phone and runs off to his room. Moving so quickly, he didn't notice Dabi appearing amused, which would have given him his first clue to be concerned.

The preview of the video shows a stomach bulging out due to Dabi's cock buried deep inside them. Unable to wait any longer, he presses play, the video loading and suddenly spread legs fill the screen.

Black lace panties cling to a torturously wet pussy. "Go on. Told ya, bitch. You're not getting my cock today unless I get to film ya. Make it entertaining. You owe me for being a fucking brat." Dabi's voice growls from behind the camera. Eerily familiar manicured hands creep into the frame and slide the sticky panties off.

Shigaraki fights to take his belt and pants off with one hand, the other tightly gripping the phone, not wanting to miss a second of the twitching pussy showing on the screen. Growing frustrated with how long it is taking, he raises a gloved hand to his mouth, biting a finger to remove his hand from inside. With his lower clothing now nothing more than dust, he grips the base of his cock.

Turning his attention fully to the video, a grin spreads across his face as a dildo, too large for her tight hole, appears. Broken sobs, not even close to forming words fill his ears as inch by inch, the toy is sucked into her needy cunt. Only half of the toy was filling her, but babbles of "too much" and "gonna cum" are repeated over and over again.

"That thing is no bigger than me. Come on. You can take more." Shifting into frame slightly, a fully clothed Dabi leans over, gripping the suction cupped end of the toy, twisting and pumping it slowly. Heavenly whines, and desperate pleas to cum fall on Dabi's deaf ears. Ending his slow torture, he gives the toy one sharp thrust before burying it deep inside her. "Don't you dare fucking cum. I'll fucking cover your entire body with scorching hot cum if you even think about it. Now entertain me."

Shigaraki's eyes focus on the way her body tries to push the toy out, Dabi backing away to leave the frame again. Timing the jerk of his wrist with the shaky thrusts of the toy, he already feels himself nearing his release. Not wanting this to end, his fingers wrap tightly around his base. Feeling safe to release himself, he moves his hand down to roll his heavy balls.

His fingers massage his balls while the video plays, broken sobs ringing in his ears as she loses track of how long she's been fucking herself without release. Her legs started shaking minutes ago, and sweat glistened on her body before Dabi gave in.

"You want to cum bitch? Yeah, bet you do. But your only allowed to cum on my cock. So drop the toy." The sound of his belt being tossed aside is the only sound as her shaking hands toss the toy next to her on the bed, showing her puffy lips and clenching pussy. 

The camera moves, showing her full body, minus the fucked out face Shigaraki was desperate to see. Heavy breast bounce with each panting breath as Dabi settles himself between her legs. To his slight disbelief, Dabi hadn't been lying when he said the toy was about the same size as him. The biggest difference between the two were the lines of metal balls on each side of his shaft where his piercings were. 

The manicured hands trail gently over her chest, swirling mesmerizingly around the pert nipples. Shigaraki's mouth waters as he imaged how soft the skin would feel between his teeth, how pretty her pale skin would look with his teeth marks scattered around it. 

On the lower part of the video, the head of Dabi's cock disappears, a groan leaving his lips at what Shigaraki could only imagine was the softest walls pulling him deeper. A scarred hand grips one of her plush thighs as he bullies himself deeper, until every inch is nestled deep inside her. Judging by the way she squirms, the tip was pushing painfully against her cervix. 

"This must be where the thumbnail of the video came from…" Shigaraki thinks out loud, seeing the familiar stomach bulging once again. 

"I can feel you spasming. Don't fucking cum. You only cum when my seed is in your womb." Dabi growls, the hand previously on her thigh now gently smacking her clit. He gives no time for a response before fucking her the way her messy hole deserves. 

Covering the part of the video where Dabi was visible, Shigaraki fisted his cock in time with the wet slaps of skin, imagining he was the one causing the girl to fall apart and beg. He wanted to be the one who she was begging to fill with cum, not the burnt villain currently in that spot. He was getting dangerously close to the edge again, checking the time. 25 minutes 2 seconds. Just a bit longer and he will be able to cum. 

Dabi's thrusts became sloppy and rushed, the perfect cunt below him too irresistible to not breed. Smoke rises from his fingers, which had found their way back to her thighs. Shigaraki ignores the deep grunts as Dabi cums, choosing to focus on the soft whimpers as the girl realizes she's going to be allowed to cum now. 

The smoking fingers press against her clit, slowly teasing it just enough to push her over the edge. 25 minutes 43 seconds. Shigaraki pumps his cock faster hearing her riding out her high, coating his hand with his own cum. The camera pans up to the fucked out face of Karuna. Her black and blue hair fanned out on the pillow behind her head. 

A disgusted wail leaves his lips as he throws the phone to the foot of his bed. From behind the door, a deep laugh can be heard. Dabi walks in an grabs his phone from the bottom of the bed. 

"Thanks for that boss. Been needing a good laugh for a while. Now, I'm gonna go show this to your sister while I make her beg for my cock again." Waving the phone, Shigaraki finally notices the small red light indicating he had been filming himself the entire time. 

"Have any videos of her sucking dick? With all the shit she talks, bet you've fucked her face a few times. She look good covered in your cum?" Shigaraki asks. 

"You're a real pervert, boss. I'll send you the pictures later." Dabi winks before leaving the room to make Karuna deal with the throbbing erection he's been sporting since Shigaraki took his phone. 

[andimlonely]

I am thinking about siscon Mickbell..

TW: incest ofc, possessiveness, size difference, unhealthy attachments/codependency, a tiny bit yandere?

////spoilers for Mickbell's backstory, fem reader

considering how attached he is to Kuro, who is basically his only family, I can only imagine how protective and clingy Mickbell would be if he had a pretty girl for a companion. So instead of finding Kuro alone, you're already by his side when Kuro joins your small- now a little less small- family.

Although he canonically has a sister, I kind of like the idea of found family tall-man! reader who is a little younger than Mick and also was left to fend for herself as a child. He probably meets you in a similarly dire situation to how he found Kuro, and though he got by on the principle of 'every man for himself' up until then, he's swayed by your endless stream of tears, the way you tug desperately at his shirt and plead him to help you, the way your position mirrored his own.

Since you're not a half-foot, you end up far outgrowing Mickbell, but he still takes to his role as your big brother, never letting you out of his or Kuro's sight, eating less when necessary to make sure you have plenty of food, snatching pretty things he thinks you'll like, fussing over you, discouraging your naturally trusting nature and reminding you the only one you can really count on is him (and Kuro, but him first). On the battlefield, Mick lacks the ability to properly protect you, but he makes sure to always at least hide where he can always see you, and orders Kuro to prioritize your safety. You, in turn, remain vigilant over the other two, and since you're proficient with a bow, you take it upon yourself to compensate for your brother's lack of self defense.

I like to think that growing up with you by his side has made him a little more considerate and courageous, but he's largely still stubborn and petulant, and in some ways less mature than you despite the age difference. That said, he's still more street smart than you are, and insists you stay close at all times. You trust Mickbell more than anyone, so you always do as you're told - mostly.

You know that you can't just trust anyone, but you also don't want to believe that everyone is out to get you either. You know that your brother is only looking out for you, but you think he's being overdramatic by insisting you don't get close to anyone else, and you want to show him that it's okay to rely on others too. And while his reluctance to trust anyone else is a major reason he dissuades you being friendly with others, it's not the only one. In reality, he's just as anxious about the possibility of you taking a liking to someone else and leaving him to join them instead.

Though he doesn't admit it to you, Mickbell is hyperaware of how ill-equipped he is to protect you, how you would be better off with someone of a different race. He's especially paranoid that you'd prefer a tall-man for a companion, and is especially insecure around any competent and good looking tall-man your party encounters. It doesn't help that other people make snide comments about the two of you, about how for a "big" brother, Mickbell is far less mature and dependable than you are (and yes, smaller than you). You always wave off their comments, reminding everyone that he saved you, and Kuro, and that even if you aren't actually related, he's a great brother, and an important member of the team. Your defenses always have Mickbell grinning smugly or sticking his tongue out at his detractors. Likewise, if anyone ever has a problem with you or even suggests anything negative about you, he'll defend you really fervently - even if the criticism was valid and put gently.

When you first joined Kabru's party, it was a bit of an adjustment for both of you. You weren't used to being around anyone but Mick and Kuro regularly, so you were a little nervous about making a good impression. Thankfully, everyone gets along well and before long, you could even say you're friends with everyone, growing particularly close to Daya and Holm. You're relieved that Mickbell also transitions into the party pretty easily. Still, the decrease in time with only each other is difficult at first, and means you have to find any opportunity to spend time together. Any time you aren't in battle, you're always at each other's side, your hand in his when you walk. Whenever you're sitting around the campfire, one of you is usually wrapped around the other - Mickbell's favorite is when he sits on something that elevates him enough so that when you're sitting on the floor in front of him, he can drape his arms around your shoulders while your party converses.

It's something your party has taken note of. Your closeness was of course expected, but sometimes it surpasses what most people would expect from siblings. Technically, they reason, it's not really that strange since you aren't actually related, but it still has your party members exchanging fleeting glances or avoiding eye contact at times.

Eventually Mickbell realizes it would be easier if he just didn't refer to you as his sister. Maybe if he called you his childhood friend or just a companion, no one would think twice when they saw you sharing a bed roll. But to call you anything less than his family would just feel.. insufficient. More than that, it wouldn't change the way you feel about each other when you're alone. You're everything to him, it's only ever been you and him. You're each other's first companions, first protectors, first kiss. And while you two are mindful to not be too affectionate around the others, when it's just you two, he reminds you just how much he adores you. Just how much it doesn't matter if you're taller or bigger than him, how much you've grown - he's still your big brother and he still knows how to take care of you best. And of course, he needs to make sure he's still your favorite.

[problematic-maleslash-polls]

Do you ship it?

Problematic Reasons: Huge age gap. Pseudo-incest too, probably, but I've not met anyone beyond myself who ships these two

Propaganda: The backstory's too long to get too into detail, but basically Sanzu's estranged adult older brother was in a gang with Shinichiro and Shin was a better older brother than Sanzu's actual brother, so of course he got attached. Also Shinichiro jumped off a bridge right in front of Sanzu despite his pleas to stop and left him with no one.

[eros-heartache]

You Don't Need Anything When You're With Me

Pairing: Debra Morgan/Dexter Morgan

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Word Count: 942

Warnings: N/A

@multifandom-flash // Beehive Bingo Round 3 // Heartbreak and Ice Cream

[diejager]

Imagine trying to run away from makarov (dad) because you don't agree with his plans....

(nsfw??? if you're not comfortable i understand)

Cw: DARKFIC, DUB-CON/NON-CON, INCEST/PSEUDO-INCEST, kidnapping, tell me if I missed any. Note: you could be related to him by blood or not, that's up to you to decide.

His hands hurt you, their slow caress down your shoulders and hips burning your dirty and sensitive skin, all red and scratched up from your struggle against him and his men. The softness of his gestures reminded you of happier times, the calm, morning dew on your floor-to-ceiling windows, the warmth of your bed, and the loving embrace of his fatherly love. You’d never assumed much from his kisses, the little pecks on your cheek and hands, making you feel like his little princess, or the placement of his hand, low on your back, around your hip and shoulder. it had always felt like a protective gesture, from one father to another, where he vowed to keep you safe the second he brought you into his mansion.

You never and could have never thought it more than that. He’d always acted as the doting father, pampering and spoiling you with whatever you wanted or wished to have. Makarov was the perfect parent —but he kept you in the dark about many things, things sealed behind a firewall of codes and threats towards his allies. You’d been told that it was for your protection, for your security, sanity and conscious that it was kept from you. Oh, how right your father was, the moment you found out what he did to achieve his wealth, you were horrified.

So you ran, tearfully squirreling away from your home and your father, lost and confused and terrified of the world you were sheltered from. You had hopes you could find safety among people, hidden away from your father and his company, but you were naive, so, so naive to think you could hide from him and his nation-wide read. You only managed to stray away for a day or two before his men found you, their hold rough and painful despite your father’s orders to not harm a hair on your body (father would probably kill them once they bring you back).

He hounded you back into your room the second you were back in his sight, stored away behind a locked door and under him, his lips painting a searing line down your jaw and teeth latching onto your neck. His once parental care turned into something dark and seedy, groans muffling your whining protests while he felt you up and down, the course pads of his fingers that you’d associated to comfort turned into disgust. Tears clung to lashes, falling with each flutter, staining your cheeks with the sorrow you felt —the betrayal and revulsion that oozed from you.

Your fist pummeled against his chest, pushing him as much as your feet kicked, slamming down onto his back, but your father seemed to be none the wiser, hands unraveling you from your sullied shirt. Either he didn’t care, or he was oblivious of your repulsion and rejection of this, he continued to strip you until you laid naked under his wandering hands and watchful eyes. He drank you in, small and squirming, twisting and struggling to find safety under your covers, and simply hide away from the darkness that swirled in his eyes.

You felt sick, a heavy feeling in your abdomen knotting up and pushing its way up your throat —you were inches away from puking on your bed sheets. You were sick and afraid and sad, but none of it compared to the amount of betrayal you felt. All you had known was him, you’d seem neither hair or hide of your mother or siblings - if you had any - and you never knew if you were related by blood, father had never let you entertain the idea because if he deemed you his daughter, you were his daughter.

Perhaps that was why this act hurt you so much, going against his words of protection and safety as he touched you, his burning fingers pulling at your being and shoving you off the edge over and over without guilt or hesitation. It hurt and he didn’t stop, not until you were a twitching and strained puddle under him.

[bachibabe]

pairing: bachira meguru x fem! reader

wc: 300

warnings: pseudo-incest, fem! reader, obsessive tendencies, just filth I’m thinking about right now 😞

18+ → minors / blank blogs dni

I can’t stop thinking about sister fucker bachi and it’s causing me physical pain at this point

He’d be such a good big brother. He takes care of you, treats you so sweet. Makes sure to cook you dinner every nights and draw you hot baths. Ah, he loves the baths every night. Even though he promises to leave alone, every night he finds himself slipping in behind you. Gently washing you, cleaning your hair.

He can’t get enough of you. Your pretty skin, your gentle touch. All of it is perfect.

He’s so obsessed with you. He’s so obvious with it too. Clings to you every second he gets, wrapping his arms around your shoulders while you try to talk to your friends. Making you cling onto his arm, tits pressed so tight against him. He kisses all over her face. You always pull away when he tries to peck your lips in public, too embarrassed to let other people see. But every once and awhile he can steal one when you’re not paying attention.

His favourite was when he pecked your lips right in front of your crush. He kept his eyes locked with his, smiling into the kiss as he holds your chin in place. Not letting you pull away. That guy never talked to you again

He doesn’t care about what everybody else thinks. He wants everyone to know how much he loves you, wants everyone to see how he looks at you. How good he fucks you. Who you come begging to in the middle of the night. Who you belong to.

You’ve been together since you were little, and you’re gonna be together until they’re both dead and buried <33. He loves his baby sister so much and he wants everyone to know. He would never hide his love for someone he cares for so deeply. Someone who he’ll be with until the end.

He’s truly the ideal sister fucker, I think. <33

[justaneedle]

Guys, guys! Mostly so-called proshipers, how about we're explore the whole ‘gods have no DNA, but demigods from one cabin still can't date’, cause feelings doesn't work like that.

People who didn't grown up with each other wouldn't considering some random guys as siblings just because.

CHB should be flooded by demigods who hate themselves and think they're creep just because they got a crush on half-sibling, who are NO ONE to them.