2025-07-02 20:22:33 ¶ ●

Quick little Jonpreg incest fic I cooked up this morning <3

Warnings for:

- Incest (duh)
- Dubious underage (Jon’s age is not directly stated but. There are Vibes.)
- Pregnancy and lactation

Please do be warned I did Zero Editing on this. So ymmv re: quality.

Anyway I’m hungry and tired and I need lunch. Have fun with the fic!!

Elias felt a tugging on his sleeve. It was the middle of the afternoon, sunlight streaming in through the window, illuminating the dark wood of his desk. Really, he should be focusing. Next week’s schedule was hardly going to write itself. But-

Another tug. Elias looked down, a fond smile breaking out on his face when he saw Jon staring up at him, wide-eyed and pouting sweetly. He lingered for a few moments on the sight of Jon’s belly, heavy, swollen with the child his son was carrying. Jon’s gaze slipped away from him towards the floor, a shyness Elias hadn’t quite coaxed him out of. Ah, he thought, so that’s what this is about, then. Not that he was going to make it any easier on him.

He smiled, placid and expectant, waiting as Jon shuffled his feet, tried to get himself in order. “I…” he started. Trailed off. “I need you.”

Elias put his hand on Jon’s shoulder, thumb rubbing soothing circles into the soft cotton of his shirt. “Of course, darling,” he murmured, “whatever you need.”

Jon looked briefly, delightfully striken, as if Elias offering his help was somehow worse than him turning Jon away. He watched his tongue take a steadying breath, leaning in closer to his father. “I’m so- I feel full.”

It was to be expected, he supposed. The toy he had left in Jon’s home was rather large, and it was keeping quite a lot of Elias’ cum plugged up inside. But ordinarily he came to Elias when it wasn’t enough, when he needed his father’s touch, his lips, his cock.

Technically, he hadn’t actually asked for anything. But he had been very good, coming to his father for help when he needed it, and Elias supposed he could spare the time. He reached for Jon’s trousers, soft and stretchy to accommodate his changing body. He had barely begun to tug them down when Jon reached out to grab at his hand, stopping him. “Not… not there,” he said, licking his lips nervously. Instead, he began to slowly guide it upwards, placing it on-

Oh, Elias thought, mouth suddenly dry. I see.

Gently, he squeezed the round, soft breast in his had. Jon gasped, shuddering. His tits were wonderfully sensitive now, and his son made such delightful little noises when his chest was played with. But this- Elias had been waiting for this.

It took all his concentration to stand, to guide Jon out of his study and into Jon’s room. The building heat between his legs is demanding that Elias force him down onto the rough carpet and take what he wants, but he can’t afford to cede to it. Not now, not with Jon’s delicate condition, how difficult his first pregnancy has been on his young body. (And it is the first. Elias is going to have him just like this, again and again and again, even if he has to fuck another baby into his son himself.)

He laid Jon out on the dark green blanket and began to tug at his shirt, exposing long, gorgeous stretch marks painted across his heavy, swollen belly. He pushed it up further, revealing Jon’s chest. Then he paused, captivated briefly by the swell of his son’s tits, and the captivating trail of milk leaking from red, puffy looking nipples. “Jon,” he growled, hungry, anticipatory, predatory. Jon’s eyes were wide with fearful desire, but that was alright. He’d learned early on that Jon liked it best when Elias frightened him. What a perfect Archivist he will make.

“Please,” Jonathan gasped, and it was all the prompting he needed. He crawled across Jon’s supine body, one hand pinning him by the shoulder while the other groped one of his soft tender breasts. Tilting his head, Elias leaned in and began to suckle.

Jon’s milk was creamy and sweet and wonderful on his tongue, flowing easily into his mouth. Soon he was drinking greedily, barely pausing for breath, his world narrowed entirely to the soft tit in his hand, the taste of Jon’s milk as he nursed. Distantly, he was aware of his hips moving as he rutted against his son’s leg, sparks of pleasure lighting up along his length as he rubbed against the warm, solid shape beneath him. He could feel Jon’s own hips rolling up into nothing, seeking friction, a small leg hooking behind his thighs, trying to pull him closer. He shifted with thoughtless obedience, moving to press his knee against Jon’s cunt, heedless of the awkward angle.

Elias bit down on Jon’s nipple and groaned with pleasure as even more milk spurted into his mouth, swallowing eagerly. He moaned as Jon’s fingers tugged at his hair, pulling him into his chest. He could feel the vibrations of Jon’s desperate moans almost as much as he could hear them, high and wanton. The stream entering his mouth was slowing, thinning, even as Elias’ suckles got more and more desperate. Finally it stopped entirely, and Elias had to pull away with a sigh. He lapped greedily at the few droplets that had escaped him, tongue teasing over Jon’s sensitive areola.

Jon squirmed beneath him, hand still fisted in his hair as he tried to pull Elias to his other breast. “Please,” he moaned, “please, I need-“

Elias shushed him, warm and tender and so, so fond. “Of course, love,” he said, allowing himself to be guided to Jon’s other nipple. With a soft, pleasured sound he wrapped his lips around it and began again to nurse. Soon he was losing himself to the taste, the feel of his son’s milk flowing into his mouth, nibbling at the soft and sensitive flesh. His hips continued their motions as father and son rutted against each other. Pleasure and heat were still building in his groin, cresting inside of him, but that hardly mattered, not when Jon was so full still, his tits heavy with milk.

He barely noticed as he came, whining around the mouthful of milk as he spilled into his briefs, ecstasy flowing through his whole body. Distantly, he was aware of the trembling of Jon’s limbs as he continued to hump his father, his sweet little cry as he came with his cunt pressed to Elias’ knee and Elias’ tongue teasing his nipple. Jon’s body went utterly lax and pliant beneath him, even as the stream of milk slowed, then stopped.

Elias pulled back, panting as he tried to catch his breath even as he lapped at the milk trailing from Jon’s sore, abused nipple. Jonathan whined and writhed beneath him, overwhelmed by the stimulation. Finally unable to drink down any more, Elias rolled over onto his side, reaching down to pull his son in against him. “There we are,” he murmured, gently petting his son’s hair, “all better now?”

Jon let out an embarrassed little noise into Elias’ chest, but he nodded, fingers curling into the cotton of his father’s shirt. Love welled in Elias’ chest. Warm and indulgent, he leaned down to press a kiss against the top of Jon’s head. “Sleep now,” he said. “You need your rest, you know.”

Jon shifted, nestled closer up against him. His mind was already drifting off, his body pulled towards sleep. And although he had a great many things to do, Elias allowed himself to close his eyes, and follow.