oph!

You’re such an annoying little slut of a sister by the time night comes.

Except he doesn’t fully believe that, not really. Maybe just on the surface, the parts of him that he’s allowed you to be privy too, about as far as he lets the average person into his life. Right there is where his annoyance rests, feather light. But deep down in the pits of his being, the truth of his feelings towards you bubble into butterflies in his chest, lungs tight with unspoken fondness and quiet yearning. The kind of attachment shared only between siblings, that no one else gets to share but him, and unfortunately, you.

Being your big brother affords him plenty of benefits. Such as first dibs on quite literally anything he wants, pulling out the big brother card at every opportunity he gets, just to wipe that stupid smirk off your pretty face that he adores oh so much. Being older means he gets to boss you around as often as he’d like, too. And like a dumb little girl, you follow along so obediently, like a good dog, simply because he’s older—and therefore wiser, right? Not exactly true, but he’s not about to tell you the truth in that regard, is he?

But just as he has his strengths, you also have a few of your own, right?

Like when you crawl into his bed, so late at night that there’s barely any traffic outside his window now, and all he can hear is the creak of his old floorboards under your weight. Curtains barely shut to allow as much wind in as possible to cool him down, but closed enough to hide the moonlight from his eyes. There’s enough glow emanating from his phone that he lazily scrolls on anyway, idly thumbing at the screen with absent attention—he’s not really looking, and hasn’t been for the past hour or so… It’s just that he can’t sleep, caught up in the late night thoughts that so often plague his weary mind, yawning into the night air with heavy bags under his eyes, no doubt.

And of course, there’s you, too. Hidden under his sheets, stealing all of his body warmth like a selfish brat as he gets more comfortable on his bed, shuffling around until he’s half sitting up, propped up by a folded up pillow behind him, one arm flung behind and around his neck to help support his weight. Relaxing into the night, with a small sigh escaping his tired throat at the feeling of your tongue finally flattening against his leaking tip.

Can’t sleep… you pouted upon entering his room. Need some help… you continued, ignoring his frustrated tone and reprimanding words. Stupid slut, he knew exactly what you wanted from him the moment you entered his room—at 2am? There was no doubt in his mind that he understood the assignment correctly, nonetheless letting you sneak under his sheets despite his adamant protests. Because part of being a big brother means that he’s supposed to look after you, no matter how annoying, or otherwise needy you’re being right noe—it’s up to him to look after and care for you regardless of the hour. And to be honest, it’s not like he isn’t benefiting from your late night snack seeking behaviour anyway, widening his legs for his own selfish comfort as you get more settled between them, tonguing at the slit of his cock juuust the way he likes, fuck…

While you might be one of the more aggravating fixtures in his day to day life, getting to spend time with you like this, in the privacy of his bedroom, when everyone else snores soundly not just in the house, but in every house of town, might make your annoyances more manageable in the long run. His gaze settling on the lump of sheets where his cock is currently getting sucked, hypnotised by the gentle bob of your head up and down, just barely taking in much of his length past the tip due to the hour. But you’re still making him shiver as if he were cold, cutie. And he can’t quite find the strength to genuinely complain at your lewd actions tonight, rolling his eyes affectionately at your sleepy attempts to get him off. Or, perhaps more aptly, your late night bid to suckle yourself to sleep—he’s not sure if his pleasure really comes into the equation, but is rather just a happy accident. But still, you suck on him ike a fucking baby, God… You just need a little bit of big brothers cock to be able to sleep at night, right? Sucking on him for your own benefit, as opposed to his. And he guesses that’s cute… If the fat glob of slick that rolls against your tongue to leave a salty trail of pre is any indication, that is. His head gently tapping back against the headboard of his bed in cuteness aggression, happy that you can’t see the way his cheeks heat up in the moonlight for his cute baby sister…

Praise for you crawls up his throat, and he very almost lets it spill for you. His heart skipping a beat at the soft sighs and slurps he hears from between his legs, muffled by the sheets as you assumedly get as comfortable as possible, nuzzling your cheek against big brothers hairy thigh with your little hands wrapping around his legs to keep him pinned in place, of which he has no choice but to allow. But all he’s able to sound is a choked moan. Eyes squeezed tightly such at how utterly adorable you’re being right now, relying on big brother to help you, to make you feel all better again… And even when he attempts to open his eyes again, they flutter shut in sheer bliss at the feeling of your warm, wet little maw tightening around his cock. Lips pressing firm around him, with your tongue gently, so slowly it almost hurts, swaying from side to side against the underside of his cock. As if trying to lull yourself to sleep, taking advantage of the opportunity his heavy bones provide you by lightly sucking every now and then, right around his tip, just to swallow down all of the copious amounts of precum that throbs out for you. And fuck, this might be his favourite part about being a big brother…

To be used, to be depended upon so deeply, so intimately, knowing that no one else but big brother can do it like this for you. Though it helps that he’s immediately within reach of your wanting mouth too, easy access for your wants and whims. Pavloved himself into expecting some head whenever you enter his room at this point, due to the nightly rate you require his assistance nowadays. And though he might appear to hate this little bonding ritual on the surface, it’s because he simply cannot bear the utter weight of admitting to you, to the world itself, that he’s a filthy little sister fucker. So completely in love with you it’s stupid, his heart hammering against his chest when you lazily start to play with his balls too, adding to the pressure building in his stomach at the way you completely need him. Self soothing with his cock, nursing on his milk to help ease you off to sleep. And he selfishly cherishes these early hours alone with you, where you’re greedy with him, selfishly doting on your bully big brother to allow him the space to be kind back, even if only a little.

And you get him so hard, baby… Frustratingly so, considering he’s always left right on the edge on nights like these. Waiting impatiently until he hears you snoring before he carefully pops his cock out of your wanting mouth, hoping and praying that you don’t accidentally wake up with that cute little petulant whine as you seek him out again, torturing him for another half hour as his balls grow taut and heavy with blue. But he lets you off on your selfish attitude, only because the orgasm he’s able to fist fuck out of himself afterwards are always the fucking best, staring down at you once more as his shaky hand raises to where he assumes your head must be, lightly patting at it to communicate his brief thanks for your little sister torment. Cute little mouth sucking harsher at his touch, causing his hips to fuck an inch deeper down your throat, and it’s impossible for him to catch the gasp that crawls up his throat. Trailing off into a pitchy whine as he does his best to hold back for you, tries his hardest to treat you well. But you make it infinitely more difficult for him when you accept the extra inch, producing more saliva to drool down his cock, making him all sticky and messy with spit as he loves, prompting his thighs to shake with how hard they tense with restraint.

You’re so perfect like this, he thinks to himself. Soft and pliant, so sleepy that the only thing you can entertain is pacifying self regulation. Calming yourself down on big brothers cock, just to be able to sleep at night. And though he’s so more than happy to provide his services to you, considering he’s doing nothing more than laying there and feeling good as you busy yourself with teasing his tip, shit, he’s so sensitive with your spit… He’s always prepared to lend you his cock. Though, he thinks he deserves a little something for putting up with you this late at night, early in the morning with insatiable greed resting in his twitchy hips, so he takes a deep, steeling breath in. Exhaling only after you’ve sucked once more, as if reminding of that he’s allowed his fun too—it’s only fair, right?

Big brothers get some benefits too, he’s assured by your slowing huffs of air.

… Fine, fuck it. If you’re going to spend most of the night nosing against his skin, getting as comfortable as possible under the hot sheets with his fat cock lodged down your throat, then he’s not gonna let this prime opportunity go to waste. Though he doesn’t want to disturb you too much, eager to spend the night doting on you in a private display of complete and utter affection, he can think of at least one way to get his well deserved reward. Considering he’s sat so relatively nice and patient for you, spare some light humps and small wiggle of his hips, he thinks he’s earned it.

So as carefully as possible, sluggish with his loving in fear of waking you, restarting the process of suckling tonight—which feels so fucking good, God… You make it difficult for him to sit still, stirring his tummy nicely with the tip of your tongue—he tenderly lifts the sheets on his bed. Peeling them off his skin, seeing as he grows tacky with sweat thanks to the addition of your body heat warming against him, just for a quick peek to satisfy his curiosity, he tells himself. To satiate the burning ball between his legs, wincing at the way the fabric rustles to life, threatening to rouse you from your nightly need for big brother cock, and oh…

Oh fuck…

He’s made a mistake, immediately flexing his legs at the mere sight of you down there, hips tilting to aim his dribbling tip further down your pretty little sister throat cunt as a reflective seeking of more. To reward you for looking so pretty, such a cute little thing between his legs, fat cock just barely peeking out from between your docile little sister lips, swallowed up by your wanting tongue as it blindly continues to stroke him off. Softly slurping along his veins, letting him throb and pulse inside your too cute mouth because you don’t know any better. So fucking pretty, it pains him, to be honest. Chest tight to leave his lungs gasping for air, stunned into silence over just how perfect you look when sucking his cock to sleep.

So pretty, in fact, that as his reward, he feels compelled to take a photo of you down there. A memory of how much you love your big brother, to use against you when he’s bullying you in the very near future, no doubt. And for his own selfish, seedy pleasures. Adding it to the collection of grossly intimate pictures he already has of you, for use late at night, just like this, just like you’re using him right now. Adding a new entry to his most private spank bank featuring his favourite pornstar, his very own beloved baby sister, seems like a fitting reward, don’t you think? And if you disagree, well… It’s not like you opinion matters right now, considering you’re fast asleep on the end of his throbbing erection.

And it’s just so natural, the way his phone is already still in his hand, camera app just one thumb tap away as he pitches the covers just a little higher for the perfect shot. Cooing down at you in the privacy of your snoozing, he fiddles about for the best angle for a few more seconds until… There, that’s the shot he needs! Up close and personal, with the best light the night can offer—all that’s left to do is to snap the actual photo, and—

A bright white flash immediately fills the room, and he automatically curses out of upset and fear, worried about the results of the photo given the fact that he instantly jerks his phone away in the hopes that he hasn’t accidentally woke you up.

But of course, as luck has never been on his side, he hears you choke. Humming on his cock, popping off of it with a drowsy mewl sounding your upset for the rude awakening.

He’s quick to drop his phone in favour of soothing you though, locking his now free hand around the base of his cock to guide it back between your lips as urgently as possible. Hushing you as calmly as his racing heart allows him in hopes of helping you sleep some more, smearing some precum across your spit covered lips in the process with a moan hidden behind his movements.

“S’okay, shhh, c’mere baby. S’right here, see? Go back t’sleep, it’s all right.”

And despite the fact that you quiet happily, and eagerly accept his cock once more, he’s frustrated. Looking to where his phone has landed, he deeply exhales a rushed huff that only he can hear.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You can thank him for that.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Which is exactly what he wanted, of course.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You’re crying.

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

If only you could ask.

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

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

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

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

Holy fucking shit, holy fucking shit, fuck me—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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