Wakey wakey, the Bianchi family's morning routine

The Morning Ritual

The Bianchi household stirred to life in the hazy glow of dawn, sunlight filtering through half-drawn blinds, casting golden streaks across the tiled bathroom floor. The air was thick with steam from the running shower, curling in lazy tendrils around the cramped space where the family moved in an unspoken, synchronized dance of morning routines.

"Was it all a dream?"

Jessica stood at the sink, the mature woman's silk robe clinging to every curve of her voluptuous body, the fabric damp where water had splashed from the faucet. Her fingers worked the toothpaste tube with practiced efficiency, squeezing a minty stripe onto her toothbrush.

"No way... W-We didn't really do that."

In the mirror’s reflection, she watched Michele beside her, his lean torso bare, sleep-mussed hair falling into the young man's eyes as he leaned over the counter to spit into the basin.

The sight of him—her son—half-naked and drowsy, sent an unwelcome flutter through her stomach.

No.

She **** her gaze away, focusing instead on the rhythmic scrape of bristles against her teeth.

But the ring on her finger pulsed, a slow, insistent throb that matched the sudden heat between her thighs.

"You can look," it seemed to whisper. "You can want."

Her breath hitched.

Michele’s reflection smirked.

The Shower

The shower curtain rattled as Stefano stepped inside, the water cascading over his broad shoulders, his muscles flexing as he reached back to adjust the temperature. Rebecca followed, her lithe body slipping past him with the ease of someone who had done this a hundred times before.

"Move over, Dad," she murmured, the redhead vixen's soft contralto still thick with sleep.

Stefano chuckled, shifting to make room as she ducked under the spray, her fiery red hair darkening to a deep auburn as the water soaked through it.

Jessica’s grip tightened on her toothbrush.

She shouldn’t watch.

She shouldn’t stare.

But the steam fogged the glass just enough to leave tantalizing glimpses—Rebecca’s slender back, the curve of her ass, Stefano’s hands as they reached for the shampoo bottle.

Normal.

Innocent.

Except—

Stefano’s fingers lingered a second too long as he passed the bottle to his daughter.

"W-What the fuck is happening there?" A soul fragment, the middle-aged family man smirked as his throbbing cock brushed against the pale vixen's pussy, her erotic contralto now thick with playful lust,

"Hehe, that tickles daddy!"

Rebecca’s wide hips swayed as she turned, her nipples pebbled under the hot water, the young woman's lashes fluttering as she tipped her head back into her father’s waiting hands.

"Let me," Stefano murmured, his voice low, intimate.

Jessica’s pulse spiked.

Michele’s elbow bumped against hers.

"You okay, Mom?"

His breath was warm against her ear, his body too close, too warm.

Jessica swallowed hard.

"Fine," she lied.

The Illusion

Stefano’s fingers worked through Rebecca’s hair, massaging the shampoo into her scalp with slow, deliberate strokes.

"You’re tense," he observed, his thumbs pressing into the base of her skull.

Rebecca hummed, her slender body leaning back into his touch.

"Long night," she murmured.

Stefano’s lips curled.

He could feel it—the thrum of her arousal, the way her pulse jumped when his fingers trailed down the nape of his daughter's slender neck.

The Osiris Ring hummed against his skin, its power threading through his thoughts, amplifying his influence.

Breed

Corrupt

Dominate

With a thought, he pushed—just a little, just enough to make her breath catch.

Rebecca’s lashes fluttered.

"D-Dad—"

"Shhh," he soothed, his hands sliding lower, kneading the tension from her shoulders. "Just relax."

His fingers drifted lower.

Lower.

Rebecca’s breath hitched as his thumbs traced the dip of her spine, his touch just shy of inappropriate.

"Daddy not now," she whispered again, her voice trembling.

Stefano smirked.

"You’re so tight," he murmured, his lips brushing her ear. "Let me help."

His hands slid around her small waist, the incubus' fingers splaying across her toned stomach, his thumbs dipping lower—

Rebecca gasped, her hips jerking forward, the young woman's back arching against him.

"Fuck—"

The water pounded around them, drowning out her whimper as Stefano’s fingers pressed between her thighs, his touch firm, possessive.

"That’s it," he coaxed, his voice rough. "Let go."

Rebecca’s nails dug into his forearm, her body shaking as pleasure crested, her release crashing over her in waves.

Stefano held her through it, his own arousal a heavy, insistent throb between his legs.

Good girl.

The Mirror

Jessica’s reflection stared back at her, her cheeks flushed, her lips parted.

She hadn’t realized she’d stopped brushing.

Hadn’t realized she was leaning into Michele’s warmth, her body swaying toward his like a flower toward the sun.

Michele’s hand settled on her lower back, his touch burning through the thin silk of her robe.

"You’re distracted," he observed, his voice dark, knowing.

Jessica’s breath stuttered.

The shower was still running.

Rebecca’s soft moans barely audible over the spray.

"I—"

Michele’s fingers dug into her hip, turning her to face him.

"Look at me," he ordered.

Jessica’s gaze snapped up, her heart pounding.

Michele’s eyes were dark, hungry.

"You want this," he murmured, his thumb brushing her lower lip. "Don’t you, Mom?"

Jessica’s lips trembled.

The ring pulsed, its voice a velvet purr.

"Say yes."

And Jessica—

Jessica broke.

"Yes," she whispered.

Michele’s mouth crushed against hers, his tongue plundering, his hands claiming.

Behind them, the shower curtain rattled, Stefano’s low laugh curling through the steam.

"Good morning, family," he murmured.

The corruption was beautiful.

And it was only just beginning.