Cute Collage I Made

all i think about is incest. all day everyday 24/7 everywhere my brain is thinking abt incest

Me sucking mommy’s titties when I have a roughy day at school

“what happened to your arm” idk i cut it ? fuckin retard

"a woodland lake" by henri biva and a photo i took back in june 2020

[ playing doctor with my sweet little sister ]

helping her up onto the table, sneaking a peek at her little pink undies below her skirt as she crawls up~

“That’s it, sweetie. Okay, are you ready for your checkup? Good, good.. now it’s important you listen to everything the doctor says, okay honey?” making sure she’ll play nice when the ‘doctor’ needs to take a closer look.

taking my time, inspecting every pretty part of her body. hand on the soft skin of her cheek, fingers tracing her dimples and jaw.

“You’re so pretty, sis. You know that?” I mumble, edging closer so that I stand between her parted thighs and legs dangling off the table.

my cock throbbing incessantly in my pants, desperate to grind against her and feel her sticky wetness bloom through her cotton panties.

“Now, I need you to take off some clothes, okay sweetie? The doctor needs to be able to get a closer look-“ unable to stop my breath from hitching as I consider seeing her bare skin, soft and supple.

starting with her top, lifting it over her head and stifling a gasp when her perky little breasts come into view. Instantly reaching out to take one into my hand, despite doing my utmost to take it slow

rolling her soft nipple between my index and my thumb.

“This all-.. looks good..” *I mumble, trying to stretch out the time I can touch her tits without her catching on.

a shiver runs down my spine in anticipation for the next inspection. my eyes flick between my pretty little sister and the kitchen door (it was the only place we had an ‘operating’ table!) nervous our dad might walk in, might hijack my checkup!

“Now- uh-“ clearing my throat, almost surprised by my own boldness.

“Can you.. pull down your skirt for me?” I ask as the anticipation inside of me wells up to a bursting point.

watching as she obediently drops her skirt, it’s soft pink fabric falling to the floor over my black leather boot.

the feeling of my big-brother-cock tenting against my pants. seeing my perfect little sister exposed, only her tiny undies preserving her dignity.

getting down on my knees, eyes level with her sweet little covered cunt. my hands running up and down her thighs. knowing exactly what I am doing as my hands dance towards her inner thigh, waiting patiently as that perfect wet patch begins to form on her panties.

glancing up at her constantly, checking her expression as I grow bolder and bolder in my advances.

fingers stretching ever nearer to her most sensitive spot on each pass of her thighs, finally, letting my fingers push past the hemline. the perfect little blush on her face telling me all I need to know, telling me this is exactly what she needs.

and I’m so ready to provide, just as a good big brother doctor should.

“I’m gonna get a little closer now, ‘kay sweetie?” I ask, not waiting for a response

I hook my index under the hemline of her undies, pulling the wet fabric to the side to expose her slick little cunt. feeling her shiver as as the cool kitchen air hits her wet slit.

‘p e r f e c t i o n’

“Cold, baby? Don’t worry, don’t worry, pup. I’ll fix it. Leave it to big brother.”

not wasting another moment as I bring my lips to her cunt, kissing sloppily with an open mouth. drinking her essence greedily as I listen to her pretty noises and whines.

pushing forwards as she leans back on the table, her legs instinctively coming up over my shoulders. lacing my fingers with hers, thumb stroking reassuringly over the back of her palm.

my tongue pushing deep into her untouched slit, my freehand slipping down to rub my aching bulge, desperate thoughts to whisk her away to my room at conflict with those that just want her to feel good and love her big brother~!

Windmills at Haaldersbroek, Zaandam by Claude Monet (1840 - 1926)

a/n: bcs childe would absolutely benefit from dating a lawyer (also a repost from one of my other accs!)

“finally!” childe exclaims, fist-pumping the air as he hops to his feet. “i was starting to think you’d all forgotten about me.”

tartaglia aka the eleventh harbinger aka childe had been the subject of multiple meetings you’d attended in the last few days. with him finally in custody, immunity void, everyone wanted their pound of flesh.

you roll your eyes, nodding your head for the guards to open the cell. “you’ve only been in holding for three hours.”

“three very long, very boring hours.” he briefly stretches his arms above his head, rocking on the balls of his feet as he blinks down at you. “so i take it you’re my lawyer?”

“that's correct,” you confirm, telling him your name and stepping back as the guard cuffs his hands, shoving him forward as his partner leads the two of you down the hall. you pretend not to notice as the harbinger studies the manacles, smirking as if he’s already figured a way out of them.

normally, you preferred to stay as far away as possible from the fatui— especially one as dangerous as a harbinger. as the liyue qixing’s main legal advisor, you’d already had a handful of run-ins with the snezhnayan “diplomats,” as they called themselves. while pantalone hadn’t been as cutthroat as childe in the literal sense, his wit and business savvy were just as fearsome.

yet here you were, actually representing a harbinger in court. a major conflict of interest, yes, concerning your current affiliation, but with the harbor temporarily closed for travel and public defenders up to their knees in (fatui) clients, they’d had no choice but to have you take him on as a temporary client.

a gesture of goodwill, lady ningguang had called it. so her majesty knows we gave him a fighting chance in court. our best for her best.

so yes, there was that, and there was the fact that no one else wanted to represent him.

you’re led into the interrogation room, childe moving to pull your chair out for you. “c’mon,” he urges when you hesitate, setting your bag on the table. “i may be a criminal, but my mother taught me my manners.”

you pull out the chair next to it, sitting down and leveling him with a stern look. “pulling out a chair does not cancel out the multiple felonies you’re about to be charged with.”

“please,” he laughs, taking a seat himself when you opt to drag another chair to the table. “you’re giving me way too much credit, babe. i only committed maybe one or two.”

—

“gross negligence, disorderly conduct, destruction of property–”

childe clears his throat loudly, ignoring the glare you send his way. the one that says i told you so.“technically it was lady ningguang that threw the jade chamber at osial, not me. i wasn’t even there.”

the butt of xiao's weapon hitting the floor makes a terrifying sound. that's all it takes to silence the harbinger as ganyu turns the page.

“–desecration, assault, and attempted murder. these are the charges that can be brought against your client by the liyue qixing and the liyue adepti.”

childe pushes out of his seat, slamming his palms onto the table. “attempted murder?”

“please sit down,” you urge, but your attempt to placate him is unsuccessful as he shakes off your hand. “you haven’t been found guilty yet–”

“that makes me sound weak. i got way farther than just an attempt!” he exclaims, ignoring you completely.

“archons, help me,” you mutter, averting your gaze to the heavens for strength. “ganyu,” you interrupt before your client can further incriminate himself, yanking his arm until he sits back down. “could i please have a moment alone with my client?”

“i will give you one minute,” she agrees, but while she turns to leave, xiao remains stubbornly rooted in place.

you smile sweetly at the adeptus. “xiao, if you hear me scream, you can come in here and do whatever you want to him.”

the adeptus chuckles at that (albeit very slightly) as he flashes out of the room, and childe makes an offended noise. "hey, aren’t you my lawyer? you’re supposed to be protecting me!”

your sweet smile immediately drops from your face. “i'm only here because of your right to an attorney, and because almost all of liyue harbor’s public defenders are busy representing your subordinates. ganyu only agreed to meet with us before your arraignment because she owes me a favour, so be nice.”

“well, you’re all wasting your time,” childe shrugs, alarmingly calm for someone in his position. “because i’m a snezhnayan diplomat. i have rights!”

“do you?”

“uh…i think i have rights?”

“you had rights,” you correct sharply. "you forfeited diplomatic immunity the second you decided to commit multiple, very serious criminal offences. so shut up and stop incriminating yourself further so i can do my job.”

“and you could argue that i was just doing mine,” he quips, drumming his fingers against the tabletop. “hey, how long do you think it’d take me to break out of a prison here? ‘cause i’m thinking a week at most.”

cocky bastard.

rubbing your temples, you make a mental note to never agree to represent a fatui harbinger again, even if the pay is as good as it is. “are you really looking to add felony escape to your rap sheet?”

he winks, and you question all your life decisions. “it's only felony escape if i get caught.”

“you will get caught,” you deadpan. “do you seriously think that xiao or the other adepti will let you live if they see you in anyplace but a jail cell?”

“so what? i can fight.”

they might as well convict him now.

you send him one last warning glare as ganyu and xiao return, the latter looking more disgruntled than usual as ganyu says,

“the charges against you have been dropped.”

both you and your client are silent for a moment, because—

“what?”

“holy shit,” childe exhales, nudging your shoulder with his. “you're pretty good.”

you are good, yes, but not this good. “ganyu—”

she holds up a hand. “mr. zhongli sends his regards. you'll be compensated at double your current rate for your time.”

that shuts you up, and the room falls silent at the consultant’s name.

(you wonder if childe knows. it was his purpose, wasn’t it? to draw rex lapis out and steal the gnosis.)

the awkward silence is broken when xiao clears his throat. “while it’s been maintained that the charges be dropped, the qixing and adepti agree that community service and a hefty fine shall suffice in place of a conviction.”

“sounds fair to me,” you agree, because there’s really no better deal than this. you take the contract that the adepti hand you, giving it a quick read before sliding it over to your client. “mr. tartaglia?”

childe simply hands his cuffs to a stunned guard next to him, grinning as he takes the quill from your hand. “where do i sign?”

__________

the relatively peaceful stroll back to your condo is interrupted by the sound of quick footfalls behind you. you don’t have to turn around to know it’s childe, here to make your night even harder.

“don’t you have a community to serve?”

childe bounds up next to you, an annoyingly pretty smile curling on his lips. "can’t i start with taking a pretty lawyer to dinner?”

you hope the heat you feel creeping up your neck stays hidden by your shirt collar. “it’s two in the morning.”

he grins sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. "ah, right. how about a drink then? i know the owner at third-round knockout.”

your pace slows as you glance toward chihu rock. the idea of going home to have a nice, long soak in the tub tugged at you, but you could use a strong glass of, well, anything after this absolute shitshow of a week.

“alright, fine,” you agree tiredly (partly because he doesn’t seem like the type to take ‘no’ as an answer). “just one drink, tartaglia, and only if you’re paying.”

_____

childe liked to watch people.

not in that way, mind you. bold and battle-hungry as he may be at times, he had always preferred silence, and by proxy, silent observation. he was never one for the long-game, but sometimes sitting back to watch and listen to those around him simply proved more beneficial. it was fun to see how people reacted to certain things, especially if the catalyst was an event he’d manipulated.

his people-watching made him an expert at reading between the lines to discern one’s true nature. he tries to apply it here, sitting with you. he doesn’t sense anything particularly hostile (other than your understandable passive aggressiveness), but your silence is heavy with distrust, and the slight the crease between your brows is marring your pretty face.

you’re hiding something. or maybe you think you are.

“stop staring at me,” you mutter without so much as a glance in his direction, the corners of your lips downturned as you sip from your glass.

undeterred, childe leans in, amused when you immediately lean away. clearly you have a good sense of self-preservation. “i’m not staring. i’m…gazing.”

“well, stop,” you warn. “it's creepy.”

a grin curls on his lips. “you like it.”

the noncommittal noise you make isn’t a ‘no,’ so childe decides to take that as a win.

“so…” he starts slowly, a finger tracing the rim of his glass. you’ve had three glasses of liquor by now, definitely not enough to warm you up to him, but hopefully enough that you’ll accidentally tell him what he wants to know in an effort to prove him wrong. “how do you know mr. zhongli?”

instead of answering, you immediately pivot with, “how do you know mr. zhongli?”

“work,” he replies with a click of his tongue. “how does a lawyer become acquainted with a funeral parlour consultant?”

“how does a harbinger become acquainted with one?”

the smartass answer would simply be to gesture to himself. death was his business, his trade, his currency— just like a funeral consultant's.

but he has a feeling the smartass answer won’t earn him more than a smack upside the head so instead he settles for, “like i said, work.”

whatever you mutter under your breath is accompanied by a roll of your eyes, so childe guesses it’s an insult. he scoots his seat closer to yours anyway. “you're from around here. what do you know about him?”

“that depends,” you shrug, swirling the amber liquid around in your glass. “i can’t tell you what i know unless you tell me what you know.”

“and i can’t tell you what i know unless you tell me what it is you know."

"hm. then i guess neither of us will know what the other knows.”

childe knows that you know (he doesn’t really, but he has a very strong feeling that you do). he doesn’t even really care if you’ll admit it or not. he just wants to find your line and see what it’ll take to get you to cross it.

which brings him to his next endeavor.

“anyway, are you single? if you are, then great! If you aren’t, i can definitely take ‘em.”

he’s not sure why you choke on your drink like you’re shocked.

“seriously, childe?” you ask, shaking your head slightly.

“why not?” he shrugs, gesturing to his mussed-up hair and scuffed clothes. “are you really saying you wouldn’t take a run at all this, given the chance?”

if looks could kill, you’d definitely be the one being charged with attempted murder. “i wouldn’t even take a walk at it."

something stirs in his frostbitten heart because, archons, you’re mean.

he’s so into it.

“i’ll grow on you eventually,” he assures you, surely almost losing a few fingers as he plays with a strand of your hair. “especially if you come work for me. i’ll double whatever the liyue qixing’s paying.”

he’d get pantalone to sign off on it somehow.

you wrinkle your nose with distaste. “work for the fatui?”

“no, no. you’ll have your hands full with just me. i commit so many felonies that you won’t have to take on another client ever,” he corrects, leaning in until his lips brush your ear. “and honestly? i don’t like to share.”

“not interested,” you say, and he laughs when you shove him away, downing the rest of your drink. “i’ll meet you tomorrow morning to get your community service hours sorted. goodnight, childe.”

all right, you're playing hard to get, childe thinks to himself as he turns back to his drink. but that's okay. the only thing more satisfying to him than catching his prey is the thrill of a good chase.

if you notice him flinch slightly when you pat this hand, you don’t notice, rising from your stool to leave. you can’t leave yet! he hasn’t weakened your defences with his wily charms and roguish good looks. “hey, wait—”

it's embarrassing how long it’d taken him to realize his hand had been stuck to the bar.

frozen to the bar, to be specific. it's even more embarrassing that he hadn’t noticed the cryo vision sitting just above the curve of your ass.

he stares at the ice cocooning his hand in genuine shock and awe. It’s crystal clear, free of any cloudy impurities. he’s from snezhnaya, he knows his ice. “this is— this is hard to do. you’re really good.”

he wonders, briefly, if you’re any good with a blade. he pictures it (fantasizes, actually), but quickly snuffs out the vision because he’s starting to get a little turned on.

but super hot, slightly homicidal guys must not be your type, judging from the way you brush off his compliment and turn on your heel, leaving him with a two-fingered salute.

“see you tomorrow, harbinger.”

he may not be your type right now, but, yeah, he’s definitely gonna change that.

a/n: if you found this on ao3 then congrats! you found my ao3. also if you made it to the end!! pls tell me what u think childe would do for community service in liyue LOL i would love to discuss

“I dunno, it feels kinda weird,” you say, leaning your head against your arms as you curl on one end of the couch. Your older brother, on the other end, lets out an exasperated groan. You hope it is an exasperated one, anyway.

“C’mon. I’m not asking much from you, here.”

“…Except for…” your eyes drift down his body to the blanket on his lap. It fails to cover the rhythmic movement of his hand, and you wonder why the two of you ever thought it would.

“…Well. Sitting here and being a… an… inspiration,” you grit through your teeth and tear your eyes away from him entirely.

“Ok, yeah, fair point,” he grunts, and from the corner of your eye, you can see him reach his other hand under the blanket as well, “And you know, I’m— I’m thankful, really…”

He hisses something under his breath, “fuck” most likely, and you try to keep your eyes strictly on whatever 80s horror movie you have playing on the TV. Some guy just got stabbed by an Alice Cooper -looking hobo, probably possessed by Satan, but you still find yourself glancing where you shouldn’t.

You hate that you can’t even blame this idea completely on him. Obviously, it’s him out of the two of you who wants to jerk off to the sight of his sibling. He begged it from you, assured you that you’d be safe, that he wouldn’t touch you — and truthfully, he hasn’t. But it’s you who gave it the go, talked about him letting it out, once and for all, an exorcism of the feelings that plagued him.

“But it would make this quicker, y’know?”

When you turn to look at him, there’s a wry half-smile on his face. You make the mistake of glancing down, at his lap, at his hand moving up and down under the blanket, stroking—

There’s teeth in that smile when you look back up at his face.

“Unless you want this to last longer?” he asks, the teasing grin and wiggling eyebrows unable to hide how hopeful he sounds.

“Wh- No! Christ! Of course not!” you cry out, indignant and your face too hot. You have half a mind to hit him with a pillow. Of course you don’t want this to go on any longer than it has to, what kind of person would?! It’s already bad enough to know that your own brother is looking at you like that, that even now he’s probably wishing he could just press you down on the couch and—

No. None of that.

“Why do you even need me to call you that? I never call you ‘big bro’. No one calls their brother ‘big bro’.”

Is his hand starting to move quicker?

“‘Dunno. Sounds hot,” he says heavily, “C’mon… Just say it. Please?”

He’s leaning forward on the couch, and his eyes are fixed on you so intently that you can’t look away. Some part of you fears that if you do, he’ll just… pounce on you, like some stupid dog that thinks looking away equals submission equals permission.

You do want this to be over with sooner rather than later, don’t you?

“…‘Big bro’,” you mutter. It sounds awkward. Stilted. Reading the lines of a teleprompter.

“Like you mean it.”

Something knots at the bottom of your stomach. Something inside you quivered just now to the deep, growling cadence of his voice.

”Big bro,” you repeat, like you would say his name, and you watch eyes wide as his flutter closed for a second, and a throaty whine leaves his throat.

“Yeah, yeah, keep saying that…”

“You… you want me to just repeat it or… or keep talking or what…? Big bro?” you ask, and try to keep your eyes on his when they open again, and not an inch lower.

“I’d have thought that that would just make it weirder for you, like, just underlining that we are family, how—” your words halt with a realisation, and you curse under your breath, “Fuck. Fuck…”

He blinks, eyes suddenly just a bit darker and more intense as he stares at your shocked face.

“You like that?” you ask, your voice fragile, a question you don’t want an answer to but you have it before the words even leave your mouth.

“…Can’t say I mind it.”

The understatement of the century.

“You like being reminded that we are siblings?” the words feel sticky on your tongue, but they rise unbidden before you can stop them, “I thought you’d have wished that we weren’t, so it’d actually like… like theoretically be possible for us to— but you actually like it, don’t you? You like that you’re not— that I’m not just some… some random pretty girl but your sister, big bro?”

You don’t understand where these words are coming from. Judging by his wide eyes, he doesn’t either. A grin, giddy and apologetic in equal measure, spreads on his face as his hand starts to move faster under the blanket, and you begin to fear it falling, having to see what you are causing, him with his cock out and hard for you.

“Fuck, yes, don’t stop…!”

You fear what that sight would do to you. It’s already bad enough that you can’t tear your eyes off of your big brother, how that familiar face twists into an expression you have never seen before, and shouldn’t have ever seen. His eyes almost flutter closed, but not quite, their dark gaze burning and never leaving you. His mouth hangs open, not quite an ‘o’ shape and more like the open-mouthed grin of a canine, piercings and teeth glinting sharp in the cold light of the TV.

“Jesus— Fuck, this is really what turns you on? Making your little sister watch as her big brother jerks off to her?” you hear yourself whimpering, your voice sounding breathier and much less disgusted than it should. You hate that you find yourself wondering what marks that wolfish mouth would leave, and you hate the longing, warm ripple between your thighs.

He’s cursing under his breath, in between the animalistic groans and whines. Strings of “fuck, fuck, fuck, baby sis” interspersed with your name. His hips are bucking, you can even see his leg kicking under the blanket. And when he leans back, his spine arching against the back of the couch more beautifully than you’d have ever imagined from him, you can barely breathe.

“Is your baby sis making you cum, big bro?”

You have your answer in his eyes, wide before they roll back in his skull. In his hips that stutter up, in the wet, growing stain on the blanket. In the tongue that lolls out from between his sharp teeth, a red carpet for all the throaty, helpless sounds of a man cumming his brains out.

He slumps against the couch, boneless and exhausted, a stupid, drunken smile on his lips. You just made your own big brother cum his brains out.

And when he turns to look at you, bliss written all over his face, you know it won’t be the last time.

snezhnaya toy salesman

p/s: please watch "toy salesman" if you haven't!