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hoseoksluna · 5 months

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VAPOR, pt II. | jjk ft. myg

pairing: boyfriend!jungkook x steam!oc

genre: smut, a great dose of angst

word count: 11.9k

summary: hard times ask for extra care and like the healer he is, jungkook doesn't fail to give you his absolute best.

pinterest board: vapor | playlist: vapor

warnings: heartbreak, lots of tears, oral sex (f. and m. receiving), praise kink, sucking fingers, female masturbation, fingering, oc is extremely wet and jk is rly rly hard for her <3, squirting, multiple orgasms, jk tells her off kinda and it's hot, pet names, raw and rough sex, the abandonment issues are heavy in one part, mention of a sex toy

note: hi, my loves. this was absolutely painful to write, but i know i made a good decision. unfortunately for those who are waiting for the next series—i'm sorry, but this will have another part. it's already so long and if i kept going, it'd have probably like 20k plus words and i don't want to take up your time. i think i can manage to post the last part THIS week, so look forward to this. one part of the happy ending done. <3 i love you, guys, i hope you like this. don't hesitate to let me know; i worked hard and i want validation skfjslkfjsklfs. enjoy, my loves. <3

A dead man for the fifth time, Jungkook finds the unfolding of the events quite ridiculous now. And he’s not surprised, how could he really be at this point, that there’s radio silence within the chambers of his heart.

The food court is muted, the lights are ever still bright, but the corners of his eyes gain peculiar shadows that cling to the side of your face as you swirl your spoon in your hot soup. His phone is ringing and its obnoxious sound is but a vibration in his hand and the only thing that’s delaying him from sliding his thumb across his device is some sort of consent in your solemn, yet saddened features. He can see translucent threads lining your rounded lips that have sown your mouth shut, preventing you from speaking out your tender heart and it’s predominantly this thing, among the obvious other ones, that drives him to make a scene in front of all of these people crowded around him.

If he has to, he will rip those wisps. Make it as painless as possible because whether he likes it or not, he needs you right now. Needs your word of advice, needs your consent in order to do what the entirety of his organs yearns to do. And if you say no, he’ll willingly turn his phone off and refuse to speak to his once-closest friend.

Just for the sake of your mental health. Just to outrun fate and grasp her wrist to stop her from furthermore scarring your heart.

You have enough of them and he has only one pair of lips to heal them.

Lifting the spoon to your mouth, you keep your gaze on its silver coat and it unnerves him—the fact you won’t look at him, the fact that you so evidently don’t want to be in this situation. Your own boyfriend is chasing you around town, even though he transmitted waves of nothingness your way when he had you under his roof. He doesn’t fucking understand it. Doesn’t understand how he’s capable of doing such a thing and fury rises in his gut, soars high to his throat, which constricts around it so tightly that it forbids him from inhaling any oxygen into his lungs. And he fears that if he speaks, it’ll soak you. Make you even smaller than you are and he’ll hate himself for the rest of his life for it.

However…

He needs to talk to you. Time is pressing down on his shoulders once again and here and now, he’s too burdened, too fragile to bear it. His stoicism has long been fractured, its shards cracking cacophonously under the soles of his sneakers and… the singular tear rooting on his pale cheek hasn’t even dried up.

“Tell me what to do, sweetheart,” Jungkook says, his voice a soft, deep murmur; a plea. His surroundings gain volume, little by little, the lack of air in his lungs causing his mind to spin. His body grows cold and, unwittingly, he bounces his leg underneath the table. “If you don’t want me to pick up this call, I won’t. It’s your decision.”

He knows that whatever it is that will come out of your mouth and change the trajectory of his fury, he’ll protect you nonetheless. No matter what, no matter what it takes. He’ll unleash what’s been swarming in him for a long time in private sometime later if you ask for it—he’ll gladly tell his organs no and they’ll have to listen. That’s certainly not an issue.

What will be an issue is if you remain quiet. He doesn’t know what will happen to him under that circumstance. He has very little trust in something that’s out of his grasp and he has strong disliking for the looseness of it all. Doesn’t feel right.

A quick, soft slurp of your soup. A lift of your weary eyes. A kick in his heart. “I don’t want to make any decision. If you want to pick up the call, you should. I don’t mind. If you don’t, that’s fine, too.”

He must be dead because he’s staring at his own reincarnation.

You’ve walked so far on your pathway of suffering that you reached the point that you don’t care anymore. Don’t care that there’s a risk Yoongi will see you or hear you. Don’t care about what’s going to happen when he does and about the events after. It’s as admirable as it is disturbing and a faint pulse begins to sound in his chest. Thrill nips at his skin; a sense of responsibility uncoiling within, linking to the surety of his instinct to protect you. To stand up for you. To make things right in a way, way different manner than he’s ever tried before and it’s those inclinations that drive his thumb to swipe across the screen.

Though he doesn’t look at Yoongi. No, he looks at you, studying your features. It’s not that he doesn’t trust your words, he does and vehemently so, but this is a difficult situation that you’re both in and it would be only understandable if the gravity of it washed over you all of a sudden and you weren’t comfortable with this anymore. He wouldn’t hesitate to end the call right away. Fuck what Yoongi thinks.

But nothing changes about your weariness. It’s a still pool of water, unmoving and utterly impenetrable, like the pond behind his cabin during cold, winter times. When this is over, he promises to get warm and dip his fingers in, permeate your skin with rosiness and coziness. Stall the change of seasons unfurling in you.

And Jungkook pleats that promise into the palm of your hand as he takes it, his thumb against your head line. Watches you stuff your mouth full with noodles. His own stomach churns, the fury half parting, making a way for his hunger to suffuse his senses. He’s so happy you’re eating that all he can think about is how he’s going to make your life better with this one singular video call.

He leaves you to it and focuses his gaze down on Yoongi. His once-close friend is driving in his car and despite the shit view he has of him, due to his service and the way Yoongi’s phone is angled, he can still see the way he’s swathed by murkiness. The purple marks under his eyes are a stark contrast to the pallidness of his skin and his hair is a mess, tufts of black strands sticking in different directions as if he had been on the verge of ripping his hair out. He has one hand on the steering wheel, while the other runs over his upper lip. Over and over, back and forth, waiting, patiently, for Jungkook’s attention.

He starts speaking once he knows he has it.

“Sorry to bother you, I didn’t know who else to call.” He sighs and explains that he’s calling because of you, the mention of your name causing his voice to crack. “I drove up to her apartment, but she’s not there. She told me she was going to her place when she… when she… left.”

So he heard you loud and clear, and yet he didn’t have the decency to respond to you, make you know that you were heard. Jungkook looks at you and this time you look back at him, too. A tight, painful exchange of glances. He squeezes your hand, even as Yoongi continues.

“She’s not picking up the phone. I’m worried about her—”

Jungkook is swift with his words. “You should’ve thought of that before you let her leave,” he snaps, his whole body tense, hanging yet again by the thread. He keeps his hold over your hand gentle, despite it all—despite the fact that his form yearns to explode. “You’re too reckless. Leave her alone.”

Your eyes widen while Yoongi’s narrow, but he doesn’t regret what he said. He knows there’s utmost truth in them, something that should scramble his brain until he comprehends it. Yoongi’s mouth purses in a tight line and his fist clenches before he places it on the steering wheel with a thud.

“Don’t talk to me like this. I don’t need this,” Yoongi mutters, pulling out his hyung card and while it angers Jungkook even more, he also thinks that’s the biggest load of bullshit that has ever come out of his mouth. “I need to know where she is.”

He gazes intently at you as he says, “It’s none of your business.”

And those big eyes of yours round in a good emotion that he can’t really recognize and slowly, you swallow down your noodles. Speechless, he deduces. A tendril of adrenaline courses in him, strengthening his responsibility and protectiveness over you, kissing it ever so sweetly when you squeeze his hand.

A validation.

Jungkook could stay like this. He wouldn’t mind at all—it feels too nice. Feels like you’re his. And perhaps at this very moment you are.

The feeling is so overwhelming that he doesn’t give two shits about the fact Yoongi is detonating on the other side of the screen. He keeps his eyes on you.

“What the fuck do you mean it’s none of my business? Is she with you?”

It’s at this moment that a proud smile curls Jungkook’s lips. And it’s joy that absorbs his organs, his heart beating loudly and clearly. Even the people around him seem happier in his peripheral vision. He thinks this night tops in the best days he’s ever had.

Tension has grabbed a hold of you, too. But he will make it better. He’s got you.

He continues with the truth and he’s not afraid of it. Not at all.

“Yes, she’s safe with me.”

Those words, most peculiarly, soothe Yoongi’s rage. Silence fills his car, one that forces Jungkook to flick his eyes to his phone because he truly can’t believe what’s happening. Yoongi runs his hand down his face and nods once, the murkiness loosening a fair bit before it pulps him. It’s now that he becomes small. A tiny boy, at the hands of his own repercussions. Displeased, but relieved. A strange, strange sight.

“Good,” Yoongi says and Jungkook’s stomach drops. “She should be with you. You’re better than me in ways I could never be. She doesn’t need me anymore.”

Your mouth parts and a vexation of your own clutches you. Enough for you to drop your spoon and lift your hand, palm up. The adrenaline in Jungkook’s system thickens. “Give me the phone.”

Yoongi's head turns to the screen at the sound of your irritated voice and Jungkook’s smile widens, handing you the device. He knows what you’re about to say will put an end to this difficult situation and he’s eager to hear it, eager for it to happen.

“Careful, don’t make him crash his car,” Jungkook whispers, ever so smug, just for your ears, but on the other hand, he doesn’t care if it finds a way to your boyfriend’s as well. You gaze at him most solemnly, fleetingly, and he can’t read shit in your expression. He’s not troubled by it, however; he wants you to let loose in whatever form of your choosing, of your liking. You deserve it, to be boundless like that. It’s been a long time coming.

His phone in your hand is too large and he finds it so cute that it helps him relax. Without withdrawing his hand, he hunches over his soup, getting his utensils ready.

And his first taste of his meal is as good as the first words you hurl at Yoongi.

“Are you joking right now? Is that all you have to say after everything? You’re actually unbelievable,” you spit, shooting daggers at the screen, your brows furrowed, a lethal glare directed at him. Yoongi doesn’t say anything, but he hears him sigh. “I’d like you to know that it’s my decision that I’m with him. Not yours. You’re not in control of it and you never will be again. I’m with him because I want to be with him, not because you let me be with him or because you think it’s good.”

Your voice rises in volume ever so slightly, respectful of your surroundings, but untethering your heart free nonetheless. A tortured pain coats it, despite the fact you’re holding yourself strong and it drives Jungkook to let go of his spoon, unable to eat when he feels your agony in all its raw immensity. You struck his awe and all he can do is watch you make order of your life. For your sake and also, most remarkably, for his. A beautiful, beautiful sight.

Love unable to be real turning away, slowly, from the dead end.

“So, we’re over?” Yoongi asks, small—small voice. Jungkook has never heard it before and butterflies zap his stomach with the strongest electricity they could come across.

Your face doesn’t change and you don’t hesitate to unleash your next words. “I think you should go see other people and heal from this mess. You’ve grown too attached to your own fucked up impressions and you need a reality check.”

Such coldness, such brutality. Jungkook can’t breathe—finds it hard to believe this is happening right now, that angels are by his side, keeping his bloodstream flowing. He feels as though he’s dreaming again due to the speck of vagueness in your answer. Yes, you’ve told him to go see other people, but he’s also aware that Yoongi needs the raw truth on a silver platter. If there’s anything he hates with all his being, it’s the abyss of obscurities. It’s the space in his brain for him to make up for the emptiness of your words.

Jungkook intertwines his fingers with yours, his thumb fondling the crook between your thumb and your forefinger, giving you the little strength he possesses in him—the last of it, all he has.

Are you breaking up with him or are you taking a break?

Jungkook longs to know, perhaps he needs it, too, even though both options are more than merciful for such a wretched dreamer like him. A dreamer that has stumbled upon gold in a poor, poor world.

“Honey, please.” Yoongi breaks into sobs and it’s now, now as Jungkook hears the sound of a raw emotion from such a detached person that he softens, his fury snuffed out in a blink of an eye, and he can’t feel his arms, nor his legs. He realizes, most strangely, that it’s his friend, one he spent the last ten years of his life with. The aftertaste of copper pools in his mouth again and his own eyes wet. Yours, too, your chin quivering the more you take in his devastated state. “I can’t do this without you. I–I don’t know how to.”

Despite your tenderness, your words remain firm. “I think you’ve managed quite well these past few days. You’ve pushed me away, needed space. So go have it. I won’t suffer through it, though. I’ll do what I want, you should, too. You need to heal in the only way you know how. Alone.”

Yoongi sniffles, taking long breaths to seemingly calm his shuddering lungs. And pity enfolds his heart, pity for his friend that he’s become such a wreck and that he’s a witness to it, more than the cause behind it. He puts the latter to the side, now is not the right time for it.

He knows what will happen to him once he breaks the dam of self-blame. It’s not what you need right now and he will make sure to keep that dam of your own safe and stable. It’s his duty.

“Will you wait for me?” Yoongi asks and Jungkook feels that question curl around his gut. With a light layer of sadness, he returns to his food, his stomach grumbling.

You sigh, swiping your fingers under the skin beneath your lower lashes, perhaps so Yoongi doesn’t see your weakness. Jungkook watches you as he slurps on his noodles, nervous—terribly, terribly nervous.

“I don’t know if I’m able to trust you like that again,” you conclude, taking a big breath and Jungkook chokes on his food, coughing so hard that you untangle your hand from his and slap his back. “Gotta go. I’ll call you later.” You end the phone call and gently lay down his phone, rubbing his back soothingly as Jungkook splutters. “Are you okay? What happened?”

What happened? You gave him life. Made a pathway for his dreams to come true. Gave him a leeway to walk upon this earth with no weight on his shoulders. Turned something inaccessible accessible.

Love unreal becomes real, running headlong in the opposite direction of the dead end.

The last of his aching coughs emit out of his throat and he swallows, lungs heaving with freedom and easy, easy breaths. The air is different, the oxygen much sweeter. You put his tall glass of water into his hand, encouraging him to drink, never letting go of him as Jungkook takes a big sip, the cold liquid washing away all of those dark ashes left from the fire of his fury. His vision blurs once he looks at you in this new, shifted reality and there’s a smile to his face, calmness surging through his body, exhilaration most needed twining around it.

“You tell me,” Jungkook says, almost out of breath—out of his mind. “What just happened?”

You go back to your soup, squeeze your fried egg open with your chopsticks. “I’m not letting him hurt me again. I don’t have to be strong and take it, do I?” With the yolk spilling in, you push the entirety of the egg white into your mouth, huffing in delight, rolling your eyes back and chewing, cheeks puffed up like a little squirrel. His own utensils go slack in his hand, watching you enjoy your food, his heart enlarging. But then you furrow your brows and stop chewing. “Fuck, it’s cold, but it’s so good.” You sigh and resume chewing, your eyes flicking across the table, your body bouncing excitedly in your seat. You act as though you didn’t just break your own boyfriend’s heart—as if you led a normal conversation with him, in which he was just checking up with you. Jungkook’s awe is so struck that he can’t speak. Can’t eat. Can’t do anything but watch you with all that love abounding in his being for you. And then you flick your eyes to his and the wrinkle between your brows deepens. “Why aren’t you eating? Is it too cold?”

He calls your name, firmly. Leans back in his seat with a big sigh. Rubs his eyes with his fingers. “What just happened?”

There’s simply no way this is real.

You devour your noodles, swallowing spoonfuls of soup. “I ended things with him, Jungkook, and I’m not coming back to him.”

His mouth dries, heart picks up speed. How are you saying this with such ease? Isn’t your heart split in two? Your devotion clung to his guy with every breath you took and back at his cabin, you wouldn’t let him play with you unless Yoongi was present. How come it seems like you’re anything but heartbroken right now?

“Are you okay?” Jungkook asks in all honesty, confounded by your behavior.

You push away your bowl, cradling your full belly. “Yes, I’m okay.”

He doesn’t really believe you. Losing your appetite was proof enough. “Positive?”

You look over to the side and your chin begins to quiver. There it is. Your hand flies to your face and you hide the rupture of your pretense behind it. The corners of your face, the only parts he gets to see, flush in red and Jungkook grabs your things with a heavy, sinking heart. Walks over to you and gives you his hand.

“Let’s go home, sweetheart.”

The weeping clouds have migrated not just to your eyes but to his, too. The night is deep and Jungkook feels it, ardently, coming to rest beneath his skin, floating on its back upon the stream of his tears that he’s stifling. He’s holding your hand and your purse as he’s leading you to his place. You didn’t want to see the face of your apartment. As a matter of fact, you couldn’t stand anything that reminded you of Yoongi and you begged him to take you somewhere you’ve never been before. Jungkook only nodded, brushing away the tears that managed to escape. Thought he’d bring you to any place you’d ever ask, just as long as you stuck with him.

He’s gained what he wanted for a long time, but at what cost? The two people he loves the most are broken. One, his dearest, he’s grasping tightly so she wouldn’t fly away. The other is becoming but a memory, ten years going down the drain—never to be seen again, never to be continued.

He has you, but he lost Yoongi. And the realization hangs, heftily, over his clavicles, swinging back and forth, kicking into his chest.

He can’t stand the sight of him either, however. How strange.

Once inside the warmth of his apartment, he can’t help but rid you of the hideous flannel of his that you’re wearing, bunching it up in his fists and throwing it away to the corner of his bench on the side of his wall without you knowing. With his hand on the small of your back, he guides you to his living room and he lets you skim your sight all around it, slipping his fingers under the hem of your tiny top, just touching you there. White walls, brown leather couch, a TV that takes up the most of the space alongside the kitchen with a plain dining area consisting of an old wooden, rectangular table with four chairs. A huge singular space of nothingness that has never felt home-like, not until you’ve stepped inside.

Now, all of a sudden, it has colors. Vibrant, yet soft-toned with each inhale of his breath. You bring your oxymorons everywhere you go and they stay where you reside, even if you move someplace else. The evidence of it is in his very body. While he feels at his most fragile, he also senses himself to be strong. Strong enough to take care of you right at this moment, be there for you and give you anything you’d ever want. And while his eyes are still wet, cheeks bedewed by his softness, he also wants to break this place—self-blame creeping in, threatening to emerge from the hidden spots somewhere within the battlefield of his chest.

This is his fault. Had he never said yes, you wouldn’t be in pain and neither would his friend be. But in that scenario, he wouldn’t know you existed. Wouldn’t have you. Would lead a forlorn life, with his paints and his alcohol.

You would be happy with Yoongi. Radiant, glowy. With your glitters, your little dresses. Your nighttime robes and your little lingerie.

Would you? Has he ruined your happiness? Has he ruined you?

Jungkook turns you around to him. He needs to ask you; he needs to have the certainty, otherwise he won’t sleep tonight. Won’t even close his eyes—the thoughts would eat away his drowsiness. Leave only wakefulness in their wake. Jungkook presses his lips against your forehead, lingering there, formulating his words, carefully. His hands clutch your shoulders. Your frail, slender shoulders.

Yoongi devastated your appetite enough that you lost all your soft fleshiness. He took it away and he doesn’t even perceive it. It was clear to him by the way you pushed your plate away, when your emotions rushed through; you didn’t have to say a word. And although he grieves the personal loss, still this is something he’ll never forgive him for.

“Would you have been happy if you never knew me?” he asks, subduedly, torment clawing at his vocal cords. “Would you have been happy with him?”

A teardrop spills down your cheekbone, plopping onto the material of your top, soaking it. You furrow your brows, seem angry at his choice of words and he regrets them, enough that his mouth rounds in a tender emotion that he’s too weak to stifle back. And then you bunch up his T-shirt, just like you did earlier in the dressing room, and there’s a tendril of relief that maybe he didn’t fuck up so majestically. He wants to weep; holding them back pains him too much and that ease, that repose is all he wants. It’s not that he’s shy or unwilling to let out his feelings—it’s just that he’s putting yours above his, deeming them more important. He wants to be strong for you, someone you can lean on—and how can he do that for you when he’s crumbling on the inside?

“How can you say that to me?” you ask in disbelief and Jungkook wants to rewind back the time. Wants to keep quiet and just hold you through this fateful night. He winces, looking away, his own chin quivering this time and he can’t—he can’t hold back. He possesses no strength. A tear trickles down his cheek, one full of agony, hot against his skin and he whimpers, he whimpers when you cradle his face in your hands, step on your tippy toes and press your lips against his. Your mouth is so warm and he’s shivering with cold; silky while his are ruined by the constant biting he did in the car. He is a ruination—how can you want him? He ruined your relationship. And now even his tears have stained your angelic, pure face.

“I feel like I’ve ruined everything,” he admits and his chest hurts, lungs tight, body trembling in that persisting cold. “I’ve ruined your relationship. I’ve ruined your life. Yoongi’s. Caused so much pain, so much trauma. Only because I let my friends convince me into going out when I came back from the military.”

The wrinkle between your brows smooths down and you pout, caressing his face. Jungkook can’t halt the rivulet of his liquid emotions. Not when he feels your love so awfully intensely, embracing him around and around, tightening, giving him a sense of safety.

“Can I tell you something?” You take his hand in yours and Jungkook already misses your warm touch on his face. He nods. “Where’s your room?”

He leads you there and you crawl onto his bed, patting the space beside you, curling on your side. He mirrors your position and you prop the side of your leg on his, intertwining your fingers with his on the bedding, moving his hand to your mouth.

And your words seep into his fist.

“We were together for five months and I never met his family. Never met his friends, except you. I never really thought about it in depth because he kept me busy, despite the fact all we did was fuck. It was enough for me, I guess, because I’d been alone for a long, long time before I met him. And I’m a bit of a loner myself so I didn’t mind that we spent all of our time in his apartment, fucking and watching movies. It wasn’t until I met you, Jungkook,” you pause, taking a big breath in, fondling his knuckles with your thumb, soothing him, soothing the drowsiness that is suddenly falling upon him like a blanket, waving off his tears, drying them. “That I realized it’s not really supposed to be like this in my life. I remember that night when he was out with you and I was in the bathroom. I thought about when was the last time he took me out and I shivered. I shivered, Jungkook. It was the first seed sown and I didn’t know. And when you came into my life, I spent my weekends out with you. You took me to your cabin, you took me out to dinner dates. Even today you took me to the mall. I realized it’s supposed to be like this. Yoongi never did that.”

Your words tingle across his fist and he’s quick with his own. “But were you happy?”

So are you. You don’t hesitate. “I thought I was, but the way I’m happy with you can’t compare to the way I thought I was happy with him.”

The truth wafts in the air, sweetening it and another onrush of tears come out of his tear ducts. He leans in closer to you, nose to nose, sniffling, sobbing quietly and you kiss his hand. Over and over, breathing against his skin. Light opens in him as the truth unfolds—with the little time he had with you, he managed to make you happier. Not just happy, but happier.

“I had a lot of time to think about this. It wasn’t just today that he didn’t speak to me. He barely did throughout the week, but today was the worst of it all and I couldn’t take it anymore. It hurt, it hurt so much,” you continue and Jungkook knows how much it pains you, when Yoongi abandons you over and over, clawing his fingernails in your scars. He’s glad, brims completely with that gratefulness that it also rolls down his cheeks, mingling with his tears, that you were strong enough to put a stop to it—as hard as it was. “And you know what I think? Yoongi needs someone like that. Someone who’s a much bigger loner than I am. Someone who’s okay with staying home, with keeping things casual. He needs a friend and I’ll continue being that for him, but not in the way he wants. I’ll be there for him, but not as closely as he was used to, you know? It has to be a process. I can’t just disappear out of his life. I don’t have the heart to do that.”

Extending his arm, Jungkook invites you to rest your head against his bicep—only because he yearns to touch you. Without untangling your intertwinement, you lay against him, breathing in his scent and Jungkook wraps the same arm around your shoulders, cocooning you in. Body to body, his lips against your forehead. You look up at him and he looks down at you, a profound exchange of glances. The reality shifts once more, the energy deepens, filling it with something beyond affection and love—fate thickening the air, intense, earnest and impassioned. And submitting to it, Jungkook raises your chin and kisses you, deeply, slipping his tongue inside just briefly. Kisses your cheek, your neck, your shoulder, hides himself in that crook, breathing with you and nothing else.

A brand new reality.

He can’t help but think about how smart you are. How admirable, how good. How well you handled everything, how well you made an order out of your life and ultimately out of Yoongi’s, too. Like Jungkook will take care of you, you will take care of Yoongi—not leaving him on his own with his shattered heart and mental health. He just hopes that sometime soon, he will be able to have a part in it, too. It’s his utmost wish. No matter how upset he was with him, how strongly he disliked him in certain moments, it’s still a person he loves, a person he spent the last ten years of his life with. A family, almost.

“Do you think he’ll ever forgive me?” Jungkook whispers, squeezing you against his body, drawing you closer until your lungs and his gain that singular synchronization. Your leg straddles his torso and he grows greedy, needing you even closer. Needing to get underneath your skin.

“I’ll try my best to make it happen,” you whisper back, running your fingers through his hair. The light that shines in your eyes faintly illuminates his shadowy room and it’s precisely the one he longed to see. Something tells him it’s here to stay and it drives his thumb to caress your wet lashes, the skin beneath your eyes, your rose-kissed cheek.

Jungkook trusts you. You’re such a badass that you will succeed in anything you set yourself out to do. And he tells you. Asks you if you want to take a bath. Thinks it will distract your heart from what it knows, from what it’s used to. Teach it something new—something you will connect only with him.

And your reaction enlarges his heart to the point that it breaks his ribcage. Your eyes widen, its light erupting, blinding him, and you gasp, lifting your whole body and grabbing his shirt in your fists. He chuckles in endearment.

“You have a bathtub?”

And your eyes almost fall out of their sockets at the sight of it once he carries you to his bathroom and sets you down. He kisses the back of your head, his hands on your hips, guiding you closer to the bathtub, reaching over to lift the tap and let hot water pour down. You both need it after such an emotionally-exhausting day and Jungkook is eager to get in with you.

“Stay here. Don’t strip. I’ll get your candle,” Jungkook says, lowly, squeezing your hips once and caressing your bum as he turns around and heads to the kitchen.

He wants to be the one who takes off your clothes. Plans to do something with you he hasn’t done in a long while, something he deems you deserve after everything you’ve been through. He grabs your mango-scented candle, your bag of cheese balls, a lighter and a chair and returns to you.

You’re crouching by the bathtub, your hand flowing in the hot water, its steam curling, tenderly, your hair cascading down your back. Jungkook pats the back of your head to announce that he’s come back and you smile up at him, your eyes big and twinkling, so magnificent that he grows weak in the knees, butterflies fluttering their wings in his stomach.

Lighting up your candle, you watch as he does it, each three knots flaring up to life and suffusing the air with a balmy, tropical scent. He sets it down on the chair and, helping you stand up to your feet, he doesn’t waste a second. His fingers hook under the hem of your top and fling it out. And because he knows you’ve never bared yourself like this before him, he hides your nakedness by pressing you against his chest, your soft breasts a pleasure, his digits sliding beneath your leggings and dragging them down your hips, looking over your shoulder. You shimmy out of them, moving your hips ever so delightfully and before he knows it, he’s on his knees—kissing the apex of your thighs as he takes your feet out of the pant legs. And he thinks he could stay here all his life.

Jungkook looks up at you as he removes your socks, kissing your knee without breaking the gaze, and he hopes that you can sense his love for you in it, the unyielding stability that he will cling to you with his body and soul—simply, with his entire being.

Rising slowly, he kisses his pathway up, leaving behind the translucent evidence of that love. Your mound, which makes you giggle, a celestial symphony to his ears, your full tummy where he hopes your invisible rose tattoos still are, both sides of your ribs, the middle of your breasts, your sternum, your collarbones, your throat, your chin—up and up until his lips find yours. And he devours them. With such vigor that you hum into his mouth, your hands reaching for his shirt again.

Oh, you want him to get in as well. Very well.

He wanted to be the witness to your relaxation, but if it’s your desire that he shares it with you—by all means. He lets you take off his shirt, lifting his arms for you, and you’re quick to allow your hands to discover the parts they don’t know. His mole beneath his left pec that he caught you staring at shortly after that turn of events at the cabin. You press your mouth against it, unravel your love for it there by grazing your teeth against it before you lick it over with your tongue, going as far as marking the spot right beside it. Jungkook sinks his fingers in your hair, reveling in it, tummy tingling, holding you like that as you do what you please. Your own digits descend to his pants, setting him free from them and when you get on your knees just like him, his cock tightens in your face.

And he dies, angels know for how many times today, when you rub your face in this intimate part of him, his heart bursting.

Not now—he can’t let you do that now. He wants your muscles to relax first before he can strain them all over again, in a much different way.

“My sweetie,” he starts, sighing, rubbing your scalp. He takes you by the back of your neck, sliding his hand underneath your armpit, and drags you up. A healthy, radiant flush adorns you and he’s glad for the paleness to be gone. Glad his body is the cause of it. It makes his heart happy. “Not now. Let’s get in the tub.”

Your stiffened nipples brush against his bare chest and he almost doubles over, loving the feeling of it. The sigh that leaves your mouth, so akin to his, too.

“But you’re hard,” you whisper, tugging down his boxers until his cock springs free and you immediately wrap your small hand around it, squeezing him lightly.

He can’t help but to grunt, the faint pleasure dizzying. He missed your hand, missed your touch. Haven’t had it in so long. It fits so well in your fist and he believes, in all seriousness, that it belongs to you. It’s yours.

He brushes his lips against yours, but he doesn’t kiss you. His brain malfunctions a little bit, the pleasure you’re giving him zapping his dominance. “You like holding me like this?”

You fondle his tip with your thumb and he hisses, sparks of electricity coursing down his body and he hums at the aftershocks. So good. He feels his arousal drip for you; feels himself lengthening in your hand. You nod, watching it happen, and while it feels nice to be looked at like that, he wants your eyes on him. He cradles your face in one hand, making you look at him, and he pecks you. At the contact, you finally nod your head. Jungkook envelops his palm around your fist and guides you to squeeze him harder, groaning onto your mouth.

“You’re such a good girl,” he praises and embraces you, hiding himself in the crook of your neck again, inhaling you. Petrichor, mango, your personal scent. It’s all he wants to breathe in for the rest of his life. It’s what heaven must smell like. Actually, heaven must be what he’s hugging.

You whimper and for it Jungkook tightens his hold around you. Skin to skin. He’ll never get over it. “I love being good for you.”

He hums his approval, following the cascade of your hair down your back with his palm, rooting at your bum, grasping the flesh. “You’re the best girl. Let’s get you clean.”

The loss of contact aches and he can see it even on your face, an adorable pout forming on your mouth. Helping you get in the bathtub, you wait until he joins you and it’s only then that you sit down, unsure of how both of you are going to fit in such a small space like this. Knees in between his, you exchange a few giggles in the awkwardness of it all before Jungkook kisses them and leads you to lean back against him, your spine against his chest, your body getting lost in his.

Turning off the tap, the water is scorching but pleasant, his muscles relaxing, the very little remnants of the fight of his self-blame tearing apart at last. It must be as enjoyable for you because once you settle in and you take in the heat, the effect of the candle, the dimmed light and the soft shower of rain pittering against the windows, you let loose completely, your head slack against his sternum, breathing steadily, eyes fluttering closed. Jungkook wraps his arms around you, your breasts pressed against them, and he loves the feeling of your raw femininity in his hands, in such a nonsexual context. His arousal might be alive and longing for you, but that feeling, somehow, overweighs it in a way he’s unable to understand.

He doesn’t mind; he could stay like this.

And both of you do for some time, feeling each other’s top halves of bodies, resting, thinking of nothing, until you tip your chin and, puckering your lips, you ask for a kiss. Arch your back until your breasts bounce free from his hold. His cock twitches against your back from the sight and you smirk.

Sly little girl. He cages them once again, though this time quite differently. One hand grabs the flesh at the base, the other sneaks to your chin, your other breast nudged in the crook of his elbow. His finger traces the lines of your lips, flattened now, kissing it every once in a while. And as if it was a signal for you to open up when he stalls his movement in the middle, you open up for him. And the feeling of your tongue, the suction of your lips, the sound of it all—it drives him to head down the path of absolute madness.

He might have just found his ultimate weakness.

Jungkook adds a second finger in, when you angle your body, so he can have a good view of it, your head propped against the bathtub wall, lidded eyes fixed on him.

So much for relaxing. He pulls his fingers out of your mouth, swiftly, causing your brows to knit in confusion. It humors him, but you’re not getting your way that easily.

“You should relax,” he scolds in a teasing manner, not meaning a word of it. “You’ve had a long day of shopping.”

You laugh through your nose, a soft smile gracing your lips and for a split second, Jungkook wonders if he didn’t ruin the moment again by altering the reality again, bringing back the memory of what’s happened. If he didn’t invite in your guilt, perhaps. You’re here with him, about to be made love to, while the person you still love is dealing with brokenness on the other side of the city.

And he tells you in the form of a kiss sunk into your cheek, drawing your body closer to him, cradling the back of your neck, squishing you against him. It causes you to turn your body to the side, slightly, and Jungkook hikes you higher, letting you lean your face against his cheek like that, pecking you over and over again. There isn’t enough body of water to overspill from the tub, but your shifting caused small waves to lap at your body and Jungkook finds himself transfixed by the sight of it. It seems as though the ripples are worshiping your body and an inkling to do the same, to do better, rises in him—as well as the impulse to tell you with words this time.

He should verbally communicate with you. Just to be safe.

“Did I remind you of it again?”

Your fingertips follow the valleys of his abdomen, half dipped in the water.

“Remind me of what?” you say and there’s a striking gentleness to your voice, some kind of blissfulness that feels terribly foreign to him. “Of my freedom?”

A bearable tightness clutches his chest, interlaced, most heartily, with the simplicity of his shock. Freedom. With his directions, you set yourself free. It should be something to perhaps honor and rejoice over—so why is there still a morsel of pity swarming in him? He needs you to tell him.

A streamlet of tears blurs his vision. Because his clinginess to you intensifies with each move forward, for the most part. Because he feels bad for his friend, for the lesser.

“Why do I feel so bad for him?” Jungkook questions, pressing you harder against him until there isn’t any more space to push you into.

You plop your body onto his. Chest to chest. Tummy to tummy. His cock, a bit soft now, against your femininity. Nonsexually, in all its beauty. You drag your thumbs under his waterline, collecting his essence of pain. His heart constricts.

“My freedom is his,” you say, still holding him like that—both palms on his cheeks. “We’d be stuck in a circle like this. We’d go round and round until one of us would burst and end things eventually. He’d never fully heal in this environment. He’d never look past his own insecurities, not when I’d continue to enjoy myself with you the way I always did.”

He thinks the merry go round had already begun the moment he and Yoongi made up and tried again. And considering the last thing he said to him on the phone today, there’s nothing left to do but to accept it.

Your freedom is his. Those words ring in his headspace, settling there. By unbuckling yourself from the seat of that ride, you did the same for him. And while you got off, Yoongi still remains seated.

For now.

He’ll get out of there. Jungkook believes in him.

“I’m meant to be with you,” you say and his heart goes wild, violently, under your forearm. For you. You’ve said it. You’ve made it official. Brought it into this new reality and Jungkook could weep again—and he does. Touched by his emotions, you kiss his tears, sighing against them. “I’m yours, Jungkook. Have been the moment I looked into your eyes the very first time.”

Your bare, boundless truth drives him to reveal his, too. Such power you have, such strength.

“You know I have feelings for you, right?” he murmurs, an allusion to the way you wept together in the dressing room, brushing your hair back, feeling his tenderness radiating off of his eyes, immensely. How easy it is, to tell you something groundbreaking like that, even as absurdly as he did. “Don’t let go of me. Don’t let go of those feelings. Keep them safe.”

Your own tears pool in your waterline and you nod, a smile glinting upon your lips. So you knew, felt the love like he did, enkindled by your mutual release. He wasn’t wrong. His heart pounds and for the first time upon this trajectory, this doesn’t feel unreal. It feels real. Alive, possible, full of life.

“I do, too. Held them in for so long. Never admitted it to myself for his sake. But that’s over now. I’ll keep it safe. All of you, Jungkook.”

You love him.

His sobs gather in his sternum, his lungs too small to capture them in place.

You love him. And it’s real.

Gripping your hair, he kisses you, deeply. And both streams of tears turn into one river—and both of you can’t halt the hunger creeping in. The hunger for more, for your love to burst at last and absorb your reality. Tongues mingling, tasting something new. Teeth clashing, lips tingling. Breaths hard and ragged. Jungkook can’t take it. Can’t hold back his body from lifting off of the rounded wall of the tub, the water sloshing and splashing all around.

And then you say something that grazes his madness ever so unmercifully.

“Put it in.”

He groans, biting your bottom lip, fingertips making dents on your small waist. Horny girl, asking for something you can’t handle. He swears, his arousal awakening yet again in full speed, taking over him wholly. “I haven’t stretched you out yet.”

You grind your femininity against his tightening cock and he’s done for, feeling your pulse. “Stretch me out like this.”

He squeezes your ass hard, making you moan onto his mouth, in effort to make you listen to him and submit to his better knowing. “It’ll hurt, sweetheart.”

Your breath wafts over him as you close your lips over his, sucking. “I can take it.”

Such a stark contrast to the words you uttered in the dressing room. His madness heightens. So much that he moans into your lip lock, dipping you in the water to make you laugh, clutching onto him as you yelp, your adorable laughter vibrating through the bathroom, bouncing off of the walls and sneaking, in the long run, into the chambers of his heart, coming to live there.

This is happiness.

And the vibrations are too, too much for him to handle. So unusual, so beautiful.

“Hold onto me,” Jungkook commands as he wraps your legs around his torso tighter and rises, stepping out of the bathtub and reaching for a towel in his cabinet while his other hand holds you steady by his forearm under your bum like a child.

Leaving you to your own strength for a second, he wraps the large fabric around you both, bunching the ends in his fist on your back, exiting out of the bathroom and laying you down onto his bed. Your hair sprawls on his bedding and he thinks you look like an angel, maddened just the same by something beyond lust, by something way purer. He kisses your lips, fleetingly, and begins to focus on your neck, unfurling his love there. He sucks your wet skin, licking it all over, scattering his hard kisses there—the ones that drive you wild, moaning loudly and bravely, deservingly so. And he marks this victorious day there with pretty, pretty colors of red and purple. Doesn’t stop. Not until you beg him, writhing underneath him, excited and eager.

“Please, Jungkook, take me.”

Such sweet, innocent words. He listens, cooing, dragging you further up on the bed, so he can lie on top of you and take his hard kisses further down, marking all the places where your invisible tattoos are, bringing them to life all over again. Above both of your nipples, especially on the right one, where that frilly rose was, covering the peak. And he feels you melt, feels you soak his lower abdomen when he sucks on that nub, flicking his tongue, making you cry out so beautifully, so desperately that his arousal for you rigidifies. And when he looks at his artwork, fists propped on either side of you like his knees, it steals all of his breath.

“You look so beautiful like this. All mine.”

All his, wet with the last drops of water, with the pearls of his saliva, with your essence coating your folds. Adorned with red tattoos. He has his own on his arm and hand, except on his chest and he thinks the one he gave you make up for it. Thinks they’re his as much as they’re yours and it causes his length to twitch against his stomach, so terribly needy for you.

“And you look beautiful like this. All hard for me,” you mimic his words and he grows feral, even more so when you continue. “It’s all mine, isn’t it?” You take him into your hand again, but he pins both of your wrists down, above your head. And the smile you grace him with—it makes him yearn to make love to you like this. Bound, while the rest of you would remain the quite opposite.

He growls, kissing you. “All yours. All yours for you to take and come around. All yours, my sweetheart. Always has been.” He kisses you harder and you whimper. Pulls away just to swirl his tongue around yours, open mouth and all, before closing his lips down again in a profound, warm and homely lock. “Spread your legs for me. I’m gonna get you ready for it.”

He does it himself, folding you in half, the glistening of your folds visible even in the slight lack of light in the room. Oh, he can’t have you like this. Reaching behind himself, he turns on his bedside lamp, bathing you in a soft, yellow light that suits you the most. You’re holding your legs apart for him and he places wet kisses on the back of your thigh, ravagedly, to reward you for it, trailing them down until he’s face to face with your drenched princess parts. And it’s a groan of relief that emits out of him when he’s this close to you, hands pushing your knees down, spreading you even more to gratify his hunger.

He’s starving. Terribly starving.

And he rolls his eyes back when he takes the entirety of you into his mouth, tongue dragging upon your slit, up and down, drinking your dew, penetrating only a little bit just to tease you, just to mess around with your madness. And when he flattens his tongue against your swollen clit, you cry out. Surprise him when you grip his hair, enough to cause him to flick his eyes to you. Your mouth is parted, but grinning nonetheless, your own eyes heavily lidded, emitting light and joy and Jungkook simply decides to make this experience better for you.

He lifts your hips in the air and devours you, lapping at your clit over and over again, letting you see what he’s doing to you without taking his eyes off of you, nose pressed against your shiny mound. You whisper your vulgarities and he’d let it pass if he didn’t consider this a holy, spiritual occurrence. He withdraws and it doesn’t go unnoticed by him, the way your slick trickles down your clit and your mound, rooting in the squishy part of your lower tummy. He hums, delighting in the sight.

“Be good,” he scolds, smiling down at you and your grin widens. You nod your head, your hands still crossed above you without his to hold them down. Scratch his words—you’re already the best girl. He licks up the trickle of your essence trailing down your clit, making you writhe again. “Feel how wet you are for me.”

Carefully, you skim your palm down your soaked belly, gasping, until your fingers reach your nub, the concoction of his saliva and your arousal seeping into your skin. He encourages you with noises of approval to keep going, bending you even more in half, your back leaning against his thighs, the pads of your fingers circling your center, eyes wide at the discovery, able to see just how celestially aroused you are for him. So beautiful. He bites onto the flesh upon the side of your thigh, only because he can’t help it, soothing down the sting with his tongue. And he hums at the sound of your moans, at the sound of your slipperiness when you drag your fingers down to your clit and stop there.

“Hm, yes, sweetheart, rub that pretty clit for me,” he murmurs and his chest explodes at the principle that he’s able to say that to you. That he doesn’t need anyone’s permission or approval. That he can do whatever he pleases with you without any consequences to reap. That he’s free. You must be thinking about this, too, but in a different way, because you hesitate. He’ll destroy that dubiety. It won’t show its face again—as long as he lives on this earth. “You can do it, my love. You’re free.”

The reassurance washes over you and rids you of that fleeting negativity. He understands this is new for the both of you—there’s some still getting used to, so it’s completely normal. He’ll try his hardest to make this as much of an easy ride for you as he can. It’s his duty.

“Don’t be afraid,” he continues, adding your name, softly. “You’re here with me and you’re safe.”

Jungkook leans over and kisses you. You nod into the kiss and he returns to his position, catching you rubbing your clit, slowly, with two fingers, the other spread on your folds. And both of you moan simultaneously.

“That’s it,” he whispers, enthralled, making way for the sound of your slick to overpower the atmosphere. “That’s my good girl. Make yourself feel good for me.”

You whimper his name, buckling your hips in his hold, squeezing your eyes shut and Jungkook can see the waves of pressure charging your tender body. Now is the time for his participation.

He sinks his middle finger inside, making your eyes pop open and stare him down, just for you to submerge yourself under the surface of that sea of lust and let your irises whisk back. Your walls clench around him and he waits until you speed up your circles to join his other finger, biting his lip to push back his desire to sink himself inside you. He tries to pay little attention to the way he drips for you.

But then you use the rest of your fingers to bring yourself to your climax and Jungkook takes it as a sign. Another finger in, he curls them, fucking you the way you like. Fast, grazing your sweet little spot that beckons your sweat out of your pores and when your pussy drools even more for him, he adds another. You gasp and he knows exactly how you’re feeling, how good this is for you.

“You feel so full, sweetheart, don’t you?�� he coos, jackhammering his hand harder and you drench it, completely. He flattens his fingers, allowing you to see the thick sheen and you mewl, a litany of his name spilling along. “You’re so wet. So horny for me, aren’t you? You’re gonna come?”

You scream your agreement, squirming, strumming your fingers harder and this is it for him. He changes direction. Fucks his fingers up and down and your toes curl, chest heaving heavily and you just keep on screaming. A delightful sound.

“Come for me, then. Like the best girl you are.”

You clench around him. So much that he can barely move his fingers, sunk in so deeply. He just flexes them, drawing out your orgasm and you give it to him.

And you’re wet all over again. Sprinkled by pearls upon pearls of your pleasure. He is, too, and it worsens his desperation for you.

You’re panting, but he’s not done with you. Setting you down, he laps up the violent evidence of your orgasm, making you twitch in overstimulation and he eases the pressure of his tongue for you. Sucking on your folds, he decides to mark you there. Just below your hip bone, too. Such intimate places. Perfect for a temporary keepsake like this.

Hovering above you, he circles his tongue tinged with your taste around yours, forcing you to moan again. And he kisses you softly. “You deserved that orgasm.”

You whine, red all over, and Jungkook understands you need more. He pulls away, clutches himself to line up at your entrance, but you stop him.

“I want you.”

He smirks, longs to hear you be more specific. “How?”

You huff. So adorable. “In my mouth.”

He chuckles. Should’ve asked where, but he’s at your service—he’s willing to give you anything you want. “All right, but just for a little bit, okay?” You nod, vehemently, and he pats your cheek. “On your knees.”

Oh, he’ll never tire of the view of your submissiveness, of your hunger for such a private part of him. He makes a mess for you on the towel, dripping more than he ever has, and he holds himself at the base, grabbing your jaw in his hand. Brutality, the one he’s obsessed with, swims past your irises when you gaze up at him. A feral animal, an angel in hiding—he’d love to embellish you with the sticky traces of his fixation, but he shouldn’t, no matter how much he craves it. He can’t stain you, not today. Can’t ruin the holiness. He’ll let you play with him before he seals it for all eternity.

Tomorrow he will. Smear you with it until it’s all your pores know.

Jungkook traces the lines of your mouth with the tip of his length, just like he did with his finger in the bathtub, and you hum, liking it. He can vividly see your yearning to rub your face against him again and he lets you, encourages you in fact, pulling you closer until you nuzzle your nose against his girth, his skin caressing your cheek, and you kiss him all over. Place your hands over his and suck him inside your mouth, drinking his precum. Only to withdraw right away, sit back on your legs without lifting your hands, and look up at him with the vastness of your overbearing innocence and love.

“You’re mine,” you purr, fucking him with your fist.

Jungkook nods, just once. Doesn’t even feel his butterflies anymore, too numbed by you, by the pleasure you’re giving him. “That’s right, my love.”

You suck in a breath, biting your lip hard as if it took all of your energy not to make him come at this very instant. And you lengthen your spine, asking for a kiss again, and he bends at the waist, kissing you nastily, pushing your head back to his cock, inciting you to do what you truly crave to.

And you take him so well, your cheeks hollow, and he’s unabashed, free to let out his male noises, whimpering for you, panting heavily as you bob your head, slurping him, spitting on him. You toy with his tip, tugging at his length, colliding into his fist and it isn’t until you rub your face against his balls that it becomes his undoing. He stalls his orgasm, strains to do so, just to please you and he pries your hands away from his length, lets you focus on his sack. The least he could do to last. But then you grab it into your fist, sucking his balls, one by one, into your mouth, even try to take both of them at once and that’s it. He can’t breathe, his heart wringing painfully with all the love that brims in him for you. No one has ever done that to him.

You flick your tongue against them, your other hand wrapping around his tip again, tugging and he nears dangerously close to the bursting of his orgasm.

“That’s enough.”

He draws you away from his cock, using all of his strength, and pins you down. A splutter of your giggles waft in the air, your chin wet with your spit and he moves his mouth so rapidly against yours that you struggle to kiss him back, growing calm all of a sudden, as if overcome with the gravity of it all.

He looks at you for a long while. Puffy, red mouth, that he craves to bite onto—and he does. Darkened eyes, full of freedom and exhilaration. Neck, chest, tummy and the rest of the delicious parts of you scattered with hickeys, with his own personal keepsakes. He loves you so much that he becomes frustrated, needing to let it out somehow. All of his muscles tense and he clenches his grip on your wrists.

“You want me to die? Is that what you want?” he hisses, speaking of the sloppy blowjob you gave him, gliding his wet cock across your seashell. You lose a breath, drowsy eyes fluttering, spreading your legs for him. No wonder you’re tired—you gave it your all. He sinks his teeth hard into his bottom lip, his frustration rising, brows knitted. “You can’t play with me like that. I was seconds away from coming all over your pretty face.”

“I wanted you to,” you say, loud and clear, and Jungkook is hot all over.

Turning you over to your side, he squeezes the flesh of your bum until it hurts as a punishment, knowing you’re not ready for the full thing. It’s too soon. Your wincing breaks into a low, alluring moan and it fills him with adrenaline. And then you smile at him, light flashing in your countenance. You’re anything but punished; you’re pleased.

Looks like you need another form of punishment.

Fuck it, fuck all spiritual aspects of this. The angels in heaven need to look away for now and cover their ears. He’s going to make love to you in a way they’ve never witnessed before and it’s good that they never will.

“What did you say?” Jungkook feignedly questions, pinning you back down and burying himself in your heat. Having stretched you out well enough, he gives you his half right away, but he doesn’t stop there, not when you lift your chest off of the mattress, not when you lose yourself in the sudden fullness and the music of your mutual moans. You grip him so tight that he forgets, for a split moment, what he’s punishing you for.

You stammer, seemingly forgetting, too. And when his mound kisses yours, your words falter altogether—a crescendo into silence. Eyes wide, unblinking, taking him most courageously. Jungkook hums, immensely proud of you, slowly pounding you into the mattress with hard strokes.

And when he gives you a particularly unmerciful one, you scream, shaking all over in his hands.

“Yes, sweetheart, that’s what you get,” he purrs, grinding his hips, loving the way he toys with your senses, your peaked nubs digging into his chest, and you can’t catch your breath, your whole body tense. “Too deep?”

You nod. “Too deep, baby, I can’t take it, fuck. It’s too much.”

Cooing, he kisses you. The pet name, your tightness—he’s losing his mind and it’s your fault. Your wonderful, wonderful fault. You don’t even let him pull out, you keep him caged in, your walls fluttering against him and he whimpers, shaking like you, unable to continue kissing you.

“Relax, my love, or you’re really gonna kill me,” he croaks out, ascending to heavenly places where they don’t, in most certainty, don’t want to see him. Sitting back on his feet, he thumbs your clit, helping you calm down. “Good girl. Feels good, stuffed full like this? My thumb rubbing your sweet little clit, hm?”

It is a miracle, the way he knows your body and knows what to do with it because your walls loosen, enabling him to fuck you, sloppily, your slick squeaking along with your quickening breaths. You scream out your yeses, driving him to give you his all.

“Just like that,” he whispers, approving, his balls tightening already, the pressure in his lower tummy becoming bigger.

You deserve the full thing, though. Jungkook places your knee on his shoulder. And with each stroke, his mound stimulates your clit, getting you nice and fast to his level.

He cradles your blissed-out face, the heel of his palm putting pressure on your throat. And onto that expression of elation, he uncoils his love for you, brutally fucking you until your whole body ripples beneath him.

“Whose are you, huh?” he moans, driving into you, rearranging your guts. Sweat drips off of his forehead. “Whose pretty girl are you?”

Your own sounds of pleasure rise in pitch and volume and he senses, he knows you’re about to come for him.

“Yours, Jungkook, yours,” you choke out and he’s so proud of you that he hums, his balls slapping against your bum, and he kisses you, giving you his tongue. You suck on it, getting him right there to the edge of his orgasm.

“Fuck, such a good girl. All mine. You know that I love you, right?”

And the once reappearing absurdity of his choice of words pushes over that edge and you squeeze him, squeeze him hard, milking his cum out of you and he growls into your mouth. You take over each and every one of his senses, making them yours, and he fucks his cum into you, his mouth smacking against yours, as you whisper your I love you’s and he swallows them down.

Heaven or something beyond. You created it and he wants to spend the rest of his life there.

Panting, he kisses your jaw, marking you there for the last time. Unbelief grasping him that he finds himself in such a place glazed with love. “You love me?”

You whimper, shuddering all over, your orgasm still seizing you. “I love you so fucking much.”

He licks into your mouth, ending your release. “My best girl. I’ll take care of you. I’ll never let you go. You’re never getting out of my sight again.”

Jungkook lets go of your wrists. They must be cramping, tingling and he massages them in the air, sitting back, his length still inside your homely heat. Your eyes wet again, sobs break out of your mouth and he shushes you most affectionately, his heart twinging. He lifts you and sits you down on his lap, hugging you close to his chest. Skin to skin. You cling to him with everything in you and he holds you together, so you don’t fall apart.

“You’re my savior. My healer,” you wail, gripping his hair. As if your breaking wasn’t enough, your words hit him hard and his vision soaks along with yours. You’ve never told him that before—never told him the roles he has in your life. He appreciates them so much, holds them dear to his heart. Never wants to forget them. “Don’t ever leave me, please. I beg you.”

It’s him who now breaks. Right there on your shoulder, beneath the waterfall of your hair.

“I could never. You’re my life. You’re my everything. How could I ever leave you?”

You sob harder, lifting your head, and the sight of your rawness makes him fall even more in love with you. Jungkook smooths down your hair and wipes away your tears. Kisses you, deeply, and lingers there. And along with the kiss, you and him exchange your last I love you’s for the night.

Tub drained, candle snuffed out, cheese balls devoured, the rain finishing like that chapter of your life—Jungkook feels himself entering a brand new one with you, one where Yoongi isn’t present, as he dresses you in his clothes. For panties, he slinks your legs into his boxers, keeping them warm with a pair of his own joggers. Then, he tugs his hoodie down your head, pushing your arms through the sleeves. Smirks at the way his clothes fit you well. As if they were your own. At the way he matches with you.

He overflows with a thrumming life.

A brand new chapter filled with myriads of different, ecstatic possibilities. And you seal them to completion, when tucked in bed, lying on his chest, you sleepily utter the first prospect that you want to bring to life.

“Will you take me to your cabin tomorrow?”

His breath hitches in his throat. He never thought he’d be returning there so soon, especially not with you. His mouth quirks up, body suffused with a foreign excitement, and right away he deduces the reason why you want to go there.

“You really want that dildo, don’t you?”

You merely laugh through your nose.

Oh, he’s calling in sick tomorrow. Will take you there first thing in the morning. Will do absolutely anything for you.

“I’ll fuck you hard with it until you completely drench it, then. Sleep for now, so we can get to tomorrow.”

You kiss his clothed chest. Nuzzle your face in it. Whisper your thank you. Jungkook pretends he didn’t just get hard all over again.

“Good night,” you say.

He pecks your hair. “Good night, sweetheart.”

BACK to masterlist

#jungkook x oc #yoongi smut #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #jungkook smut #bts smut #bts imagine #jungkook imagine #jeon jungkook #bts scenarios #jungkook scenarios #jungkook fluff #btscreatorscorner #kpop smut #jungkook one shot #yoongi x oc #yoongi x reader #yoongi imagine

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smoooothoperator · 4 months

Text

What Was I Made For?

01: Crossfire

Charles Leclerc x driver!OC (Dafne Morelli)

childhood enemies, forced proximity, accidental pregnancy, enemies to lovers

a/n: Hi!!! First chapter! Are you guys excited? What do you think that will happen?

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Every way of feedback is very welcomed

Monza. One of the two most important races for Ferrari in the calendar.

And my home race as well.

The weather is still warm at the end of August, the sky is blue and every house has a Ferrari flag hanging from their windows. Every person that lives in Milano or in Italy knows that this weekend is important, that this weekend is their weekend.

“Do you think they will give you a chance to be the priority today?”

Erica, my older sister by only two years. She was completely different from me, with blonde hair and skin easily tanned. She always came to my races, being the one that takes care of my flights and to rent cars to have during the weekend. Not like Soleil, who was actually a little version of me and my nutritionist.

“I mean, I'm ahead of Leclerc. They should” I said, shrugging my shoulders as I ate my breakfast. “The only person in front of me is Max, I don't think they want to risk and fuck up things right if front of all the Tifosi. They are idiots, but not that much to make me and Charles switch positions just because I'm the second driver”

Erica looked at me with a smile, nodding as she tied the strap of her dress in the back of her neck. Every time she came to the races she made sure to be dressed with the colors of the team, always wearing red since I was contracted by Ferrari and then white, red and black when I was in Haas. Today, for my homerace, she was wearing a nice cherry red dress from Meshki, a brand I made collabs with some months ago.

“If they were smart they would do a good job and instead of letting Charles fight, they would order him to defend you from Lando” Soleil pointed, helping Erica to tie the dress. “Is not the first time they order you do that for him, and for once that you are in front of him they should give you a chance”

“I just want to end on the podium, that is the goal today” I sighed. “What Charles does is all his business”

“At least you should talk about the strategy…” Soleil sighed. “Only to make things clear. This is your home race, he should respect that”

“Hah! Sure” I laughed. “It was my home race last year too and he didn’t think twice to overtake me in the last lap even if his engineer was screaming in his ears to not do that. That’s even more cruel that overtaking me in the middle of the race”

“But last year you two didn't have a warning like this year” Erica sighed.

“Whatever, he’ll be an asshole anyway”

My sisters looked at each other and rolled their eyes, probably tired of the rivalry between Charles and I. But they don’t understand, they don’t understand how it feels to always be challenged by him since the first time he saw me. It was like he was a bully and I was his victim.

“You two are twenty six, when will be the day you two fix things?” Erica asked.

“When one of us dies” I stated, making both of my sisters groan.

“Drama queen” Soleil sighed.

“Yes I am”

Getting out of the hotel was something that took us half an hour, being stopped by fans that waited for the drivers to start their way to the track. They called my name and the nickname they gave me when I got famous.

“Princepessa”

The good thing about being half Italian was that they didn't care if my other half was British. They cared about my Italian roots, feeling proud that someone from their country is driving for Ferrari. A Tifosi driving for the Tifosi.

“Today will be your day” a fan said. “You'll win this race”

I smiled at them, letting them put the friendship bracelets on my wrists and taking pictures with them, somehow wanting to believe all the words they said.

Some meters in front of me was Charles, signing caps and shirts on his way to the car. I recognized Andrea (his personal trainer), Joris (his photographer) and then a girl, probably his new fling. They were waiting for him already inside of the car, the three of them looking down at their phones.

“Is that his new girl?” I whispered to Erica, looking at the car Charles was walking to.

“I think so, she was in the hospitality yesterday” Erica answered, nodding. “I would say she's nice, but the only things she did was make tons of Tik Tok videos and pictures for her Instagram”

“Are we gossiping about his new girl?” Soleil smiled, stepping between us. “She's not nice. She thought I was one of the restaurant crew and just ordered me to bring her a coffee! And her manners? Uhg, non existent”

“His taste in women is really suspicious” I joked, looking at that girl, who actually looked like me.

The three of us walked towards the car that was waiting for us, walking in front of Charles' car and looking at the girl that was sitting in the front seat on the passenger seat. She was looking at her phone, recording a Tik Tok probably, while Joris and Andrea tried to not make obvious eye rolls.

“Yeah, neither his friends like her” Erica pointed.

I sighed, walking to the driver seat of my rented car and got it, turning on the engine while my sisters got in the car. People noticed us and started to wave at me, all of them holding the shirts and and even flags and waving them as I drove next to them.

“They want you to win” Soleil said excitedly, watching the Tifosi wave their hands.

“They want Ferrari to win” I corrected. “They don't care of it's me or Charles”

I heard them sigh and I just shrugged my shoulders, driving towards the track while the police guided us, somehow making sure neither Charles or myself suffered an accident before arriving.

If we have an accident during the race it’s no longer their problem.

After I parked the car, I saw Charles parking right next to mine, opening the door and looking at me. He sighed, rolling his eyes when I waved at him and immediately placed his hand on the back of the girl that was with him in this race.

I walked with my sisters, just a little faster to enter the paddock first, and when I looked at his girl I nearly laughed right on his face.

She was dressed with a top that only covered her front side and a skirt that had an opening on the side and let you see all her leg.

“I think you went to the wrong place” I smiled at that girl. “Coachella was on April and Tomorrowland was on July”

“It's fashion” she frowned, her voice sounding too high. “You wouldn't understand”

“I do understand. At least I went to the Met Gala” I smiled, walking away and pressing my Paddock Pass on the ID scanner.

I could feel Charles' eyes on my back, probably thinking about ways of how to take me off of the track in a few hours, or how to poison my lunch. He would do anything to make sure I won't perform better than him.

Cameras and reporters followed me, making my sisters walk some feet behind me, taking pictures of me and asking things related to the race, which I always replied with the same answer.

“I'll do everything I can to win. It's an important race for me and for the team”

When they were satisfied with my answer and after they had enough pictures of me, they walked away to focus on other drivers that were around the paddock too.

As soon as the red building was close enough, the media managers and content creators of the team started to fly around me and soon after Charles, asking questions and doing the trends that were famous on social media.

Let's start the act.

The smile on my face was half real, half fake. Having Charles near while we were inside of the hospitality meant that the rivalry we had since kids had to be left outside the building, making us act friendly and fake just to make the team and sponsors happy.

“Hey Daf!”

He knows I hate that nickname. He knows that every time he called me like that I ended up screaming at him, telling him that he's not allowed to call me that way, only one person and he is dead.

“Charlie!” I smiled, fakely, watching how he fought to not roll his eyes or look daggers at me. “Those jeans again? How many of them do you have?”

In moments like this I enjoyed teasing him, giving him nicknames he hated and making sure he couldn't fight me.

“This jeans, dear Dafne, are my lucky jeans” he said, smiling.

“Mhm, I wonder when are you going to burn them” I said. “But seems that your girl has the same taste as you, now makes sense”

I saw him clench his jaw and fists, taking deep breaths and looking at him with his eyes furrowed. He knows he can't do anything, so he simply smiles and nods, walking away to his room followed by that girl.

“What was her name?” I asked Soleil. “She has face of Karen”

“I think it's actually Karen” she laughed. “I wonder where he met her”

“I'm sure it was on Raya” I chuckled. “Maybe a summer fling that stayed for too long and he doesn't even know how to say no to her”

“I don't know who I should feel sorry for” Soleil sighed. “Him because she clearly is with him for the money, or her because she will probably be replaced soon”

I shrugged my shoulders and looked at the room with his number on the door, wondering what they would be doing. Ignoring each other? Her looking at the phone and taking pictures while Charles got changed? Probably that, or she would even be using him to take pictures of her so she could post them on Instagram, hinting that she's with him.

“Whatever, they are adults” I sighed, getting up.

When I opened the door of my room and sighed, hearing how they talked, or most likely argued.

“What is her fucking problem? Why did she talk like that to me?” that girl exclaimed. “How dare she?”

“Come on, it wasn't that bad, Melanie…”

“Are you going to defend her or me?” her voice was too high, piercing into my ears. “Charles!”

“What! Fuck off, Melanie! You knew where you were coming, don't cry now. I told you what clothes you had to pack and, as always, you did whatever you wanted” he groaned, and I could hear how he closed the door of his closet.

“God, sometimes you are so stupid”

“Whatever”

I smiled, changing my clothes to my racing suit and folding my clothes, stretching my back and arms before walking out of the room, just at the same time as Charles. His jaw was clenched and I could see the vein of his temple a little swollen, something that always happened whenever he was angry or stressed, and probably now would be both reasons.

“Next time you bring a girl, make sure she knows where she's coming” I whispered.

“What about you won't open your mouth next time I bring a girl?” he frowned. “You are giving me a headache”

“Oh really? That's nice!” I smiled, winking at him and walking away. “You should have a painkiller, anyway”

“What I should have is a good race without you in front of me” he groaned.

“Too bad it won't be possible” I said. “Get used to it, I plan of being in front of you as much as I can”

That smile.

God, I hated that smile.

I hated that she always knew what to say and how.

“We'll see soon” I frowned.

She rolled her eyes and walked away, making me follow her with my eyes. Melanie walked out of the room and stood next to me, never letting go of her phone.

“Should I go to the balcony? I think there are nice views of the… How do you call it?” she said, making me take a deep breath and fake a smile.

“Paddock” I said.

“Oh yeah! That” she smiled.

“Look” I sighed. “I have things to do, I'm not your photographer”

Before she could say something I already was walking away towards the restaurant, sitting on a table and looking at my phone. Just a small lunch before doing interviews and then getting ready for the race, an ice bath and some stretch outs.

“Where did you leave that girl?”

I turned around and sighed when I recognized Erica's voice. She sat next to me and placed the cup of coffee in front of me.

Dafne's older sister always tried to be out of our arguments. When we were kids, she always avoided our fights and stood away with my brother and Jules, ignoring us. I always believed that Jules and her would end up together, and somehow maybe they were for some time.

Maybe that's why she always tried to befriend me too, to make me feel that Jules was here too, and for her to have someone that reminds her of Jules.

“Last time I saw her she was asking me to take pictures of her” I sighed, grabbing the cup and drinking it slowly. “She was getting annoying”

“And why did you bring her, then?” she sighed. “I thought you were smarter”

“Did Dafne send you so she could just use this against me later?” I said looking at her, watching how she shook her head and smiled weakly.

“I came here because I care for you, Charles. I don't care if my sister and you can't stand each other” she said, resting her back on the chair and crossing her arms in front of her chest. My eyes went to the small tattoo of her wrist, one of many she has. The little 17 was facing me.

“A guy has his needs” I sighed. “And she was there on vacations”

“Sure, but you know what she has been doing while you were out of the hospitality?” she sighed, but I already knew the answer. “She thinks she's your girlfriend, Charles, only because you let her be in your bed”

“And what if she is?” I frowned, and somehow that tattoo got darker than it already was.

Jules would be disappointed, right?

“Look, I just…” I sighed, but immediately shook my head. “You wouldn't understand”

Of course she wouldn't. Because I don't understand it either.

“Then explain it to me, hm? I might be Dafne's sister, but I'm your friend too” she said.

“Not now, okay?” I sighed. “I have things to do, a race to make”

“Alright” she sighed. “Good luck today, Charlie. Just… don't kill my sister”

She stood up and walked away, not after she messed my hair softly.

Jules and her would have made a really beautiful couple.

I took a deep breath and sighed, getting up and walking to my room again. I looked inside Dafne's room and frowned when I saw a fruit basket on her table, finding a big amount of peaches on it.

“Fuck” I sighed, walking in and grabbing that fruit.

I might hate her, but I don't wish her death.

“What are you doing?”

I tensed and took a deep breath, turning around and finding Dafne leaning on the door frame, watching me with the peaches in my hands.

“Nothing” I said.

“Putting a fruit you know I'm allergic to in a basket?” she frowned. “I thought you were stupid, but this? This is crossing the line”

“No! Hey!” I frowned. Did she really think I put them on purpose? “I just grabbed them because I know you are allergic to the peel of the peach, asshole. You are welcome”

Before she could say anything I walked out of her room and went to mine, locking the door and groaning.

The Italian anthem echoed through the stands of Monza, reverberating in my chest as I stood in front of the grid. My heart pounded in time with the fervent claps and chants of the Tifosi, their energy a palpable force lifting me higher. The sea of red around the circuit was a sight to behold, with their flags waving, faces painted, the roar of their passion almost louder than the melody of the anthem.

This was my home, my people, and today, I was going to give them a race to remember.

After the final notes finished, I walked back to my car, in the first line of the grid, next to the navy blue Red Bull. No one was in front of me, the only car to beat was the Red Bull. I looked to the car behind it, the other red one of the grid, Charles’ car. I felt his eyes on me, and the only thing I did was put on my helmet and remember that today was my day, not his.

This is my race.

The formation lap felt like an eternity, each second stretching as I warmed up the tires, feeling the grip, the balance of the car. As we lined up on the grid once more, the tension was almost unbearable.

Five lights.

Four.

Three.

Two.

One.

Lights out.

I launched off the line, my tires gripping perfectly as I sped towards the first chicane. Max had a strong start, but I was right on his tail, the slipstream pulling me closer. Behind me, I could feel Charles trying to find an opening, but I shut the door firmly at every opportunity.

Lap after lap, I pushed harder, feeling the car’s every response. I stayed within striking distance of Max, waiting for my chance. And then, halfway through the race, it came. Max made a slight error going into the Parabolica, his line not as clean as usual. It was all the invitation I needed.

I dived down the inside, my heart in my throat, and for a moment, we were side by side. But I had the better exit, my car flying past him down the main straight as the tifosi erupted in a deafening cheer. The lead was mine.

Now it was a matter of maintaining it. Every lap felt like a battle, not just with the track but with my own nerves. I could feel Charles gaining behind me, his pace relentless. But I focused forward, hitting every apex, every braking zone perfectly. The laps ticked down, and with each one, my confidence grew.

The final lap was a blur. I could feel the tears in my eyes, barely letting me see the track, but I kept driving, pushing and turning the wheel until I crossed the finish line.

“Dafne Morelli, you are a race winner!”

I did it. I finally did it.

As I parked the car in the pit lane and got out of the car, I heard the roar of the crowd, all of them waving the Italian flag over their heads. I saw my team, all dressed in red and jumping, cham¡nting my name. I felt pats on my back and helmet, some drivers coming to congratulate me.

But I felt that gaze too, the one that always burned me alive whenever I won him.

And it felt so satisfying knowing that I won against Charles Leclerc.

taglist

@racinggirl @elisysd @alltoomaples @ssprayberrythings @rach3164 @yvonne-dump @deliciousfestsalad @janeh22 @hc-dutch @ninifee1802 @kakorrhaphiphobia @ssararuffoni @itsjustkhaos @scaramou @tapedeck-hearts @apollosfavkiddo @sltwins

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55sturn · 8 months

Text

✮ BACK TO YOU

pairings: chris sturniolo x fem!oc, reader x unnamed male!oc, chris sturniolo x fem!reader

summary: in which no matter where they are in life, chris and y/n find their way back to one another, despite knowing that it never really works, until day he gives in and stops fighting what he knows is meant to be.

warnings: swearing, angst (a whole lot of it), verbal arguments, chris and y/n are toxic, implications of chris cheating, fluff if you squint, suggestive implications.

THIRD PERSON POV

in every culture and every religion, there is some sort of evidence of soulmates existing. the person your soul is forever tied to, setting you up for heartbreak along the journey looking for that one person. love is at the root of the structure of every belief system. the person that has been so perfectly tailored to your heart and soul, meant to love you in the ways you spend your life searching for.

look up: invisible string by taylor swift, for a beautiful depiction of a soulmate inspired love song.

the only issue with having a soulmate, is that nine out of ten times, you don't know who your soulmate is. which often leads to you spend hours upon hours and years upon years searching for them, inevitably experiencing various stages and forms of heartbreak in hopes that once you do find your soulmate, your forever person, they are able to heal and fix you.

but in chris and y/n's love story, them healing each other wasn't always the case. they were the fairytale from hell, they were a wrongful depiction of soulmates, two souls tethered together by an invisible red string that who, instead of loving each other, had a tendency to tears each other's hearts into millions of pieces each time they tried to love one another.

they were two souls so delicately similar that it caused them nothing but pain and frustration. they loved one another in the wrong ways, but they were determined to make it work, albeit at the wrong times.

PRESENT TIME

chris sighed as he felt his phone vibrate in his pocket, with a quick roll of his eyes, he fished the thin device out of his pocket, knowing full well who was texting him as he made his rounds through the crowd of friends and acquaintances at the party he attended.

groaning, her named flashed again in his notifications, he hovered his thumb over the text before pressing down, begrudgingly opening the conversation he had wished hadn't started, despite deep down wanting her to reach out to him.

IMESSAGE TEXTS BETWEEN CHRIS AND Y/N

Y/N: guess u forgot to tell me that u and ur new bitch of the week would be here🤣

CHRIS: don't start tonight y/n

Y/N: i'm just shocked is all, didn’t think she’d fuck with these ppl just by looking at her

CHRIS: "she" has a name, y/n

CHRIS: it’s gianna

Y/N: you act like i give a fuck

Y/N: it’s nice to see you tho

CHRIS: please y/n, aren’t you tired of this shit?

CHRIS: you and i don't work, we literally never fucking do

CHRIS: and i really like this girl

Y/N: if you genuinely mean that, why are you spending so much time explaining it to me? sounds like you’re just tryna convince yourself that you feel that way.

Y/N: but if it’s real, then i'm happy for you, it's just weird that you and i aren't here together.

chris rolled his eyes at her second to last text, the way she could see right through like he was made of glass, even through a text, was something he’d never be able to understand. or run away from. there was never any sense in him even trying to lie to her, she could read him like a book. and chris was her favourite book, she would read that book ten times over in one sitting if she could.

but chris willed up all the self control he had in his entire being to not seek out the girl he's loved since he was a tiny boy in middle school. he told himself that it was done for good. that's the thing with playground love, it doesn't always last for ever and ever and chris was finally starting to accept that.

he pocketed his phone and forced himself to look for gianna, his eyes briefly meeting y/n's as she spoke to some random influencer, the smile on her face not reaching her eyes as she focused on the boy in front of her. he soon spotted the girl he arrived with, her hand flirtatiously resting on vinnie's bicep as he spoke to her. with a less than enthusiastic scoff, he downed the rest of the drink in his cup and turned around, walking in the opposite direction toward the girl he called home.

once he was in earshot, he smirked to himself as she pawned her cup off onto the poor boy fighting for a chance with her in front of him. once she waved him off with a bittersweet smile, she turned back to chris. she tutted playfully as he rolled his eyes, her hand reaching up toward the back of his neck, pulling him flush against the front of her body.

"what happened to "i really like her"?" she chuckled, her arms wrapping around his neck as his hands fell to her waist, pulling her into a hug, his lips meeting her jaw as he sighed.

"vinnie got to her and she was all over him." he spoke against her skin as her nails gently scraped against his scalp, bringing him down from his emotional high as his shoulders slumped in her arms.

"wanna get out of here? go for a walk?"

"nah, m'tired and just wanna go to bed, you crashing at mine?"

"of course." she spoke, her hand slipping into his as they walked toward the door, nick and matt meeting them there soon after chris texted them, neither of them surprised to find chris leaving with y/n instead of his girlfriend.

"i'm so happy you're here y/n, chris is a different man when you're not around." nick snorted, climbing into the seat behind matt as y/n sat behind chris, his hand slipping between the two front seats as her fingers threaded through his again.

"i'm glad to be back for however long chris needs me to be." she whispered, her words cutting deep into chris' heart, knowing that she wouldn't be around permanently, their dynamic and ways of communicating only allowing them to be together for a short period of time. they’d spend most their days tangled in chris’ sheets, professing their undying love for one another, knowing very well their time would be ending once again, and that it’d end soon.

they found that while they loved each other so deeply, they showed it in all the wrong ways. instead of gentle and soft spoken words, their love for one another was reminded in the clashing of teeth and tongues during heavy make-outs, and wandering hands with their nails digging into the soft flesh they roamed.

their rekindled romance was once again called off when chris' girlfriend, gianna, had come back into his life a week later, apologizing for her behaviour and explaining that she had been a fan of vinnie's for a long time and the fan girl in her caused her to make questionable decisions.

with a meek smile and a backhanded comment about chris’ infidelity, y/n packed her bags and moved out of chris' room sadly bidding matt and nick a brief "see you later", which left them sighing as they were no stranger to watching y/n move in and out of the house a couple times every few months.

it wasn't long before chris had found himself missing the girl that knew him inside and out, that knew his heart like the back of her hand. a month after gianna came back, spewing excuses upon excuses, chris had broken up with her, claiming that his heart would forever belong to someone else and he couldn't bear to put her through the pain of not loving her the way she deserved to be.

chris knew that he should take this grace period and be alone instead of running back to the girl he always did, but he knew she was it for him, no matter what. he didn't understand why they couldn't love each other properly. he always looked at it in a way where they had too much love for one another and they just didn't know what to do with it.

he tossed and turned in his bed, his thoughts unrelenting and holding his ability to sleep hostage as his phone read 3:32 in the morning. groaning he unlocked his phone, his thumbs maneuvering their way to her conversation from muscle memory at this point before typing out a quick couple messages.

IMESSAGE TEXTS BETWEEN CHRIS AND Y/N

CHRIS: y/n come home

CHRIS: please

CHRIS: i cant sleep without you

CHRIS: i love you in a way that makes it hard to love anybody else

CHRIS: you are like a drug that i cant go without, you're deadass my soulmate bruh and i'm done denying that. you are the only person i want. the only that actually knows who i am, inside and out. the only person that can make me feel good the way you do. i want you. no more fighting it. we’re meant to be.

Y/N: i'll be there in 10.

every time y/n fell back into chris’ arms, it felt devastating and bittersweet. this time, it felt right. it felt like they had finally found solid ground and that the had found the way they were meant to be together. there was definitely some uncertainty about the longevity of their relationship overall, but they learned over time that they need to communicate. whether they stayed together or not for the final time, there was no doubt that they would always be intertwined in each other’s hearts.

taglist: @dylsdunbar @soursturniolo @4sturns @sturnsclutter @spencerstits @meanttomeet @bluesturniolo333 @graciereid @abbie13sworld @ghostofbrock @l9vesick @mylifeisevenstranger @bethsturn @ifilwtmfc @verosivy @themattgirl @lovingmattysposts @lacysturniolo @freshsturns @forevergirlposts @sturniolo-fav-matt @cupidsword @strawberrysturniolo @lustfulslxt

#Spotify #chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #chris sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo x fem!reader #chris sturniolo x you #chris sturniolo x oc #chris sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo imagine #chris sturniolo oneshot #christopher sturniolo x reader #christopher sturniolo x fem!reader #christopher sturniolo x you #christopher sturniolo x oc #christopher sturniolo smut #christopher sturniolo imagine #christopher sturniolo oneshot #sturniolo triplets

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mintaikk · 6 months

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Alastor & Roo Theory

OKAY, HEAR ME OUT

Before Lilith was revealed to be in Heaven, we all thought that Alastor made a deal with her and that was the leash he was referring to. But, now that we know Lilith is in Heaven, there's a lower chance of it being her. While it COULD still be her, I want to play around with this theory.

What if the chain Alastor is under is Roo?

For those who don't know, Roo was an old OC Vivziepop made, and she was the root of all evil.

Originally I thought this concept was scrapped but in Hazbin Hotel, when Charlie talks about Heaven, she says that they "shielded all from evil" and when she says evil, a being with a face appears, which I think is Roo.

I think that Heaven was protecting itself from Roo, and when Lucifer gave Adam & Eve the apple, that set her free because it was someone actively disobeying Heaven, which planted her roots of evil into the physical world. Goes into the hole "planting the roots of evil" idea because it was a fruit given to Eve. A red fruit, the color associated with Roo, and with seeds in it, for the root of evil.

Perhaps Roo already lied in the fruit tree, which is why it's red. Perhaps it was her prison to keep her from gaining power and interfering with Earth, and Adam & Eve weren't allowed to touch it because doing so would bring evil. Heaven probably never explained to Lucifer why he shouldn't give them the apple because they're so used to blind obedience, but Lucifer was a thinker and thought that knowledge and free will would be a great gift for mankind, not knowing that Roo was the one lying in the tree.

And when Earth is shown to gain evil, the hand that surrounds it looks like literal roots.

Roo lied in the tree already, and Lucifer handing the apple to Eve is what set her, the Root of all Evil, free.

Hope I got my point across, I tend to have trouble saying my thoughts.

Why do I think it's Roo controlling Alastor? Right now, she's the only being powerful enough to overpower Alator that isn't Lucifer, Lilith, Charlie, The Sins, other Overlords, and The Goetias, as non of them seem to really cause any fear in Alastor. Sure, he hates Lucifer because he's more powerful than him, but that was more pettiness and not genuine fear, and Lucifer hadn't even met him before all of this! Sera wouldn't make a deal with a demon, and Emily wouldn't either. So, I think the one that he made a deal with was Roo.

Not sure how new this theory is. Looked it up and got an animatic made 2 weeks before I even thought of this. Absolutely love this animatic, please watch it. But, I really like this and I'm honestly so excited to see who is controlling Alastor.

#hazbin hotel notes #hazbin hotel theories #roo #hazbin hotel roo #roo hazbin hotel #alastor hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel alastor #alastor #hazbin hotel theory #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel eve #eve hazbin hotel #adam hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel adam #lucifer morningstar #lucifer #hazbin hotel lucifer #lucifer hazbin hotel

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kaythetrashcan · 3 months

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I made a Termina oc.

My attemt to recreate Miro's style

Reference sheet

Some doodles

Her character history and her moonschorched form (Gore and nudity warning) are under the cut

You were raised in an orphanage in East Bohemia. Your caretakers were neglectful at best and downright abusive at worst, which led you to look after other children. You:

- Helped sick children (gain 1 blue vial and 2 cloth fragments)

- Stole food for others (Gain Lockpicking skill)

- Shielded others from harm (Gain Protect = ability allowing you take damage in place of another party member)

As the time went on, you developed a fascination with the Old God Sylvian. She became a comfort in your life and asylum grew up, you decided to pursue her further. You:

- Studied her academically (Gain Loving whispers)

- Explored on your own (Gain Masturbation skill)

Eventually, your studies weren't enough and you ended up joining a Sylvian worshipping cult, adorning bunny masks and dancing in the meadows. You:

- Enjoyed company of your fellow bunny masks. (Gain Dance of the rabbits skill = All party healing spell outside combat, doesn't work on Daan)

- Pleased curious strangers (Gain the Sylvian prayer skill = Can regrow limbs at the cost of mind)

Eventually, you stopped coming home. Your life became that of worship as your mind and memories deteriorated. You had forgotten so much, even your own name, with only your medailon remaining as a reminder of your past.

That blissful life, lacking worries came to an abrupt end, as the Secong Great War started. Your group got caught in a crossfire and you were one of the few who made it out alive. A group of Voroniyan soldiers rescued you and place you in a brothel.

Life wasn't too bad there. You came back to your roots, helping others and making them happy. You made sure to fulfill every client's wishes and fantasises. They deserve the best. One man especially took a liking to you, even taking you home a few times. He was:

- A rich business man (gain 10 shillings and 1 lucky coin)

- A lieutenant (gain the lugr pistol and 6 bullets)

- A pharmacist (gain 2 pep pills)

Your work at the brothel made you quite desirable. A certain man payed a small fortune to spent his business trip with you. You are heading there now. What did you take with you:

Food (gain 2 dried meat and 1 moldy bread)

Alcohol (gain 1 vodka and 1 beer)

Something to read (gain Sylvian skin bible)

(If gun isn't chosen as a starting choice, Ofelie will have her whip and the ability Whip crack)

#fear and hunger #fear and hunger termina #oc #funger oc #marina domek #olivia haas #daan von dutch #caligura #samarie #henryk klimkov #fanart #digital art

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toji-sweetheart · 3 months

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I loved your other jean one-shot!! I’d like 34 with jean for your kick off event 🙂‍↕️🫶🏾

18+ only content - mdni

thank you so much! I haven't realized how much I missed writing for my other fandoms and Jean is so handsome 😫😫 - kick-off event

tags: fem reader + explicit smut + oc! sister and her kids

Soft threads of Jean's light-ash hair tickled your shoulder as he hugged you from behind as you stood in front of the kitchen window that faced the backyard where your nephew and nieces played.

Their giggles made your heart flutter with contentment seeing your babies by extension happy. "They sound like their dad." Jean hummed in your ear nipping the lobe to elicit a giggle from you.

He also wasn't wrong.

"They look like my sister though, she hit the copy and paste button on them." You replied before handing him dish by dish to dry off and put away, it was an efficient way to get it all done sooner.

When you turned around to look at Jean to ask for a favor his eyes instantly dropped to the swell of your breasts, the wet white fabric of your shirt clung to them giving him a good view as well as your nipples that peaked pushing against the material.

You glanced down and pouted. "This is why you shouldn't wear white while cleaning." You hummed mostly to yourself before leaning in to kiss Jean reminding him to take dinner out to thaw for tonight.

Not even halfway down the hall, you could hear your husband behind you closing the distance. "I told you not to wear anything when you clean or do anything for that matter." He teased you with a groan.

Jean pressed you against the wall gently pulling a soft gasp from you as you gripped his biceps. "Jean, the kids." You whispered even though it was just the two of you.

His lips split in a wicked grin as he crouched down to tug your shorts down. "They're active kids at ten and twelve, they're going to be out there for a while, we have to make this quick." He groaned seeing the dark patch on your panties that made his cock twitch even more.

Your eyes fluttered shut as you buried your fingers in his hair tugging on the roots as he pushed your panties to the side, his tongue lolling out to lick a wide stripe across your pussy that wept with slickness.

Wet and loud slurping filled the hall as he dove in deeper wanting to drink from you, your pussy was more than addicting and Jean had a problem keeping his hands or mouth to himself when it came to you.

His nose nudged against your clit when he pulled back to trace your slick hole pushing the tip of his tongue in before his fingers slid in easily making you gasp and tug harder on his hair grinding down.

Pleasure made your heady fuzzy at the edges as he grazed your g-spot just in time for his tongue to all but wrap around your clit before applying just enough pressure to make you hiss out his name.

You kept fucking his mouth and fingers moaning and panting feeling the strap of your tank top fall down your shoulder as your orgasm rose higher and higher crashing over you. "Jean!" You cried out keeping his head still as you gushed in his mouth that he ate up.

"Have I ever told you how pretty you look when you cum?" He asked when he stood up letting you lean against him not caring that his shirt was getting wet.

feedback such as comments and reblogs are highly appreciated, those kind words mean a lot to me and encourage me to do more writing ♡

#💌mail #kick off event #Jean smut #jean kirstein smut #jean x you smut #jean aot smut #aot x reader smut #aot x reader #jean x reader #jean kirstein x reader #snk x reader #jean kirstein #jean x y/n smut #attack on titan x reader #attack on titan x reader smut #attack on titan jean smut #jean x you #✍🏻minx writes

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seireitonin · 5 months

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Quick rant on some stupid discourse

“This fandom doesn’t take horror seriously!1!!1!1 it’s just a bunch of ocs!1!1!1!1😡” Bro, Creepypasta has always been goofy af. Even the word“Creepypasta” sounds goofy. Literally every Creepypasta Character is someone’s oc, made my a traumatized angsty teen or young adult in 2011-2016. You expect us to read some silly shit like Jeff the Killer and be shaking in our boots? (Still like Jeff btw) Get real. I like the “realistic and scary” portrayals of the Creepypasta characters too! But I also love fanon. This fandom was literally based off fun. I hate when ppl come with this “im better than you” mindset bc they don’t like fanon/ want them to be scary only. I really can’t stand it. This fandom has always been based on fun and comfort. Everyone made the popular Creepypasta characters for fun and sometimes to vent/ be a self insert. Ppl are acting like we didn’t have comics and fics where they lived in a mansion together and chilled like a family with a y/n insert because ppl were comforted by these characters , myself included. Ppl act like we didn’t always have goofy/ silly fan art. Ppl act like these aren’t vent characters that brought comfort to lots of ppl. Ppl act like the creators themselves didn’t make silly, goofy fun content with their own characters. (Laughing jack, ticci Toby, bloody painter, etc for example all their creators drew them/ portrayed in fun ways in content I still rewatch) Let’s not forget our roots. Creepypasta (the character based side of it) is still so loved and popular because of the fun stuff like that that people can look back on fondly. Why does it make you so mad that ppl want to use the characters differently than you/ make fanon content? So these “ocs” are only decent/ okay when you use them your way and have your seal of approval??? Please be serious. This is coming from someone who likes Fanon and canon. One isn’t better than the other. You’re not better than everyone else because you want to make them “realistic and scary” let that mindset go. Let people have fun. Let people find comfort where they want. Seeing people having fun and being comforted shouldn’t make you mad. The block button exists and is free. Just block them and only interact with the side of the fandom you want to see. There’s multiple sides of it. I block content I don’t want to see all the time. Doesn’t mean I hate these people or their content, I just don’t want to see it personally. But I don’t go around unironically shaming people for content I don’t like. Because that’s dumb. (Unless it’s something awful like using offenderman, demonizing mental illness etc I have called people out for this, semi - respectfully before) Shaming people for not portraying Creepypasta characters made my angsty teens and adults in the way you specifically want to see them/ be portrayed is just so silly. This fandom doesn’t revolve around you and what you want. Or anyone for that matter. Respect other people. No one’s “better” than anyone. Because everyone sees and uses and portrays the characters differently and that’s always been the best part of this fandom. The freedom, creativity, fun and comfort. That’s how it’s always been. Nothings changed.

#creepypasta #creepypasta hcs #creepypasta characters #creepypasta fandom #creepypasta headcanon #crp #seiretonin #creepypastafandom #rant

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sordidmusings · 2 months

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Sweetly Scented Secrets - Intro (Reader x CYOE Various)

Summary: On a stop to a new island, you managed to find yourself at a witch's stall. Despite yourself, you actually bought some things. The purchase that vexes you is a perfume that could supposedly urge confessions out of those it targets.

Word Count: ~1.8k

A/N: this is some good ol’ Nonsense that came from this ridiculous video of a man spraying himself with perfume then seemingly being unable to keep divulging So Much so suddenly 💀 I have been told that he frequently dissociates into a state of info dumping. I will choose to believe the perfume compelled him. And thus it will compel the blorbos. Some will be sfw and some nsfw (and tagged accordingly of course). All will likely be goofy. I will play with which is which and who happens based on my fancy unless requested! This gets out first cuz it was p much done Forever Ago so all I had to do was fill it out and edit it and make a mood board then set it to come out on a Monday cuz Fuck Em

Warnings: gn! reader (I tend to write from afab perspective since that’s what I am so if something slips please let me know 🤍 this goes for all my gn!), a wild OC appears! Take her in all her cringy glory 👌🏻, I just always wanna write witches man, can’t decide if magic (largely in the modern western esoterica sense) being legitimate counts as canon divergence, if so then this is canon adjacent 🤷🏼‍♀️

~ ~ ~ ••• ✦✦✦ ••• ~ ~ ~

A spiritual crisis was not how you wanted to start your morning.

You were stuck between the deep-rooted desire to believe in magic and every skeptic you’ve ever known talking down their nose at you. It felt like a very unbalanced war between the two. The weight of scorn had tamped down your wish for magic to be fact for years, but a wanting pit in your chest still clung to “what if”. That pit had begun to grow roots and stems as the Grand Line showed you places and life beyond the scope of your imagination. What explanation was there for Devil Fruits besides magic? Though, magic, it seems, was only for Gods to deal out. Earthly life must keep trying to use science to catch up or fight for what scraps the Gods toss their way.

You continued to stare dubiously at the carved stone bottle in your hand. Delicate, swooping letters decorated its soft pink label, spelling out “Affection’s Confession” in deep violet. Gold accents brought out their curves and matched the shimmering golden wax that sealed the bottle’s cork and dripped down to crawl on the translucent fluorite vessel. It sat heavy in your hand, each second passing with it in your palm adding another gram to it then another and another. You sighed and placed it back on your dresser to stare some more. The light dancing through the sloshing clear liquid, bouncing and glimmering through lines of blue and green and purple, only made it more enticing to you.

Your hesitation was exacerbated by the perfume’s seller. Well, maybe potion was a better word? Saying “potion” made you feel silly though, even if it was given to you by a witch. And that brings you back to the whole problem.

The last island you’d visited was known for its strange customs and belief in the arcane. Most weren’t living by the practice; just knew of its validity as yet another mundane fact of life. Finding the actual practitioners was much harder, or it was supposed to be.

You would’ve had to have been blind or willfully, stubbornly ignorant to see that woman and think anything other than “witch”. Feathers and beads were tied in her dark hair, swaying in time with her vertebrae earrings on each turn of her head to watch passersby. You kept your eyes to them as you approached her, feeling unsettled and intrigued by the strange decorations. Shortly after you began heading towards her, her face snapped to you and she zeroed in, making you feel like a rabbit stalled before a fox. When she stood from her seat and sashayed over to greet you in front of her stall, you realized she was barefoot, sporting wood and leather anklets instead of shoes. The music they beat with each of her steps and the open smile that warmed her face eased you just a bit.

“Hello, sweet thing,” she greeted, the cheery tone of her voice ringing out the pet name. “I can help you find just what you need. The coven and I have built a stock to aid any situation, including yours.”

As she leaned forward in a semblance of a bow, you noticed her large necklace of braided bramble (Thorns still on? you noticed incredulously) hung low, holding dried roses in front of her cleavage. The languid way it followed her matched the nature of the scant drapings of deep red and dirty beige fabric, which hung on her in the vague shape of a summer dress. She held out her suntanned arms, palms up to ask for your hands. Having her this close nearly made you step back; something unnatural lived in the air around her and her tawny eyes saw right through doors and walls and words and skin. Feeling hesitant, you continued to meet her gaze and only offered a mumbled greeting.

“Come now, let me have your hands,” she encouraged gently. “They’ll tell me what you need.”

“How are they supposed to do that?” you asked curtly. “And I usually like knowing someone’s name before hand-holding.”

“Call me Pythia,” she chimed immediately, still holding her bent posture and asking hands. “I don’t have the time to explain the hands. I promise I won’t keep them though.” She giggled at her own… joke? You were hoping that was a joke. You eyed the peeks of death behind her (articulated bugs here, bones there, jarred creatures, hides, blood-) that made all the pretty wares around them seem tainted.

Watching her laugh was the first time you noticed the knack her loving smile had for curling into something more impish, cluing you in that she knew something you didn’t. Despite this making her feel even more dangerous to interact with, you put your hands in hers.

“Thank you, lovely,” Pythia said, voice heavy with a gratefulness that didn’t seem to fit the moment to you. While she cradled your hands, you took in the many carved rings and bangles of stone, leather, metal, and bone cautiously.

That caution had rooted itself to you and was very stubbornly sticking to your feelings about her wares. Besides the perfume, you had purchased an herbal pouch to hang over your bed, meant to aid with ease and depth of sleep. The first night, you noticed your mind was much calmer than its usual anxious whirring before bed. The second night, you listened to the first of her instructions and took ten deep breaths through your nose against the sigil-embroidered pouch. Your sleep came mere minutes after taking in the floral and earthy scent. It had you decide to try out the full instructions, adding on asking the herbs for good rest, placing a gentle kiss to the sigil, and sealing it with a long press of your forehead to the marking. You slept like the dead.

The success had you brainstorming on how to make it back to her in a few months, as she had warned you that the effects will fade with use. It has only been three weeks since your first full ritual with the pouch and you can already feel it start to wane just a bit. You mourned this morning when the sun through your window had actually managed to rouse you from sleep. When you were grumpily blinking at the bright light, you had noticed the perfume bottle still sitting untouched next to the beaming light.

If the pouch worked then shouldn’t this?

That hope was what led you to stare over the bottle as you were now, and try to convince yourself that it wouldn’t be so ridiculous to try out. After all, you had felt quite stupid speaking to your herb pouch and that feeling paled in comparison to the benefits it brought you. You took another minute to mull it over then steeled yourself with a deep breath to go through opening up the bottle.

You found and flipped open your pocket knife before settling on your bed with the bottle. As Pythia had instructed, you placed a kiss on each flat side of the blade before cutting around the rim of the bottle, right where the cork met glass. You thanked the blade and flipped it back closed. You twisted the cork out, took a deep breath filled with curiosity, and smelt… nothing?

Pulling the opening of the bottle to press on your upper lip, you took another long sniff. Yep. Nothing. Absolutely nothing.

You frowned at the bottle, wondering if the witch had actually managed to sell you snake oil. You sent your narrowed gaze to the herb pouch above your bed then back to the bottle in your grip, mulling over your trust in the liquid. Eventually, a mix of previous success and your burning curiosity got you to continue trying the perfume out. You were also pretty sure you saw actual snake oil in her shop, so that handed the witch a point for gumption and a deduction from trickery.

Her instructions were quite detailed for the perfume to be at its most potent. Things about the meanings associated with fingers and the places on the body and the importance of the order and all of it seemed to jumble together. When you asked if she had anything to write it down, she shrugged and told you what you remembered of the instructions was the act meant for you to take. Maddeningly unhelpful. So you sat on your bed and ran them through your memory until you were sure you recalled everything as clearly as possible. After a good while meditating on it, you were surprised by the detail that your mind let you recall of it. You were ready.

Blocking the small opening with your right ring finger, you overturned the bottle and flipped it back, leaving a drop of the substance on your fingertip. After repeating the process on the other side, you took to dabbing the prescribed spots with those fingers, making sure your right hand touched your left side and your left hand touched your right. You focused on following the list exactly - a dot on the front of each ankle, a dab on the center of the top of the thighs, one on each hip bone, a small swipe along each bottom rib. Each application was made with a whisper of “I can receive”.

Refreshing the liquid on your fingers, this time your pinky fingers, you continued to the next section. You placed a dab at the center of each clavicle, a swipe on the back ends of the jaw, and a circle on each temple, this time muttering “I can hear” with each touch. The liquid placed on each middle finger was rubbed into the opposite wrist to the words “I can unlock”. Lastly, you used your index fingers to draw a star on your third eye. This time right stayed with right and left with left when you flicked the bottom points to aim at your irises (“I can see”) and the side points to follow your brow (“I can know“). Your fingers joined together to draw the final point directly towards the crown of your head. With finality, you voiced a solid and steady “I can understand”.

Once you had finished applying, you noticed a sweet smell start to emanate from your skin. It was quite delicate at first, luring you to lean closer and seek it out. That pull only increased as you also sought more of the pleasant sensation warming your mind with each lungful of the scent. After a good thirty seconds, it leveled out, leaving you feeling boneless and content like you’d woken from a nap basking in the sun. The face of your love smiling down on you during a lazy summer afternoon flashed in your mind with the feeling.

Okay, maybe this will make them confess to me.

~ ~ ~ ••• ✦✦✦ ••• ~ ~ ~

Whose confession do you seek?

(list of who I have ideas for in no particular order) Law, Ace, Sanji, Nami, Robin, Koby, Luffy, Buggy, Mihawk

Other names are not unwelcome, just the juices weren't flowing for others vibing immediately with the energy of this prompt but tbh sometimes the challenge of that makes better fics. If you do want to request, please include sfw or nsfw and whether you want gn, afab, amab, fem, or masc. If you don't then my personal default is afab (female physiology, avoided or they/them pronouns for gender). I'm a bit nervous about writing transfem and transmasc properly, but so long as you're okay giving it a once over and pointing if I've made mistakes so I can correct them then I'm happy to try!

Also I had to fight the urge to start this with a dumbass joke hard lol the other first lines were "There are two wolves within you. Both of them are telling you this is likely a crock of shit."

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annwrites · 5 months

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bleeding souls ✧☾.·:·.*

— pairing: feyd-rautha harkonnen/twin oc

— type: longfic

— summary: since they were children, feyd has been obsessed with his twin, lea. as they grow older, his possessive behavior only worsens, until he is the only shelter for her that remains.

— tw: dead dove do not eat, incest, non-con, dub-con, mutual mutilation, blood, possessiveness, murder, abusive behavior, sounding, fisting, over-stimulation, orgasm denial, exhibitionism, oral sex, fingering, spanking, obsession, etc. (it's feyd, use your imagination lol)

— word count: 11,670

— author's note: this fic is not complete, this is just what i have so far! this was written after i went to see the 2nd film. i've not read the books (even if i own the deluxe editions of the first 3 novels...), but did do some research on the dune fandom wiki to try & keep things accurate to the lore.

Her earliest memories were of this room. Four walls and a plethora of recreational objects—from books, to puzzles, to sketchbooks—all the company she was permitted, per her twin.

The other half of her bleeding soul.

Feyd's obsession with his twin had taken root within his twisted core at a shockingly early age. They'd been no more than toddlers the first time he'd nearly beaten a boy to death, simply for asking to share one of Lea's toys. It had been the fact he'd deigned to speak to her that had set her twin off like an explosive.

He'd retrieved a rather heavy tome of a book from a nearby shelf and smacked the boy on the back of his head as hard as his growing adolescent muscles would allow.

Lea had balked, then backed away, quiet sobs escaping her trembling lips as she watched in horror while her twin made quick work of turning their playmate into a puddle of blood and tears. It was only when a guard hauled Feyd away that the bloodshed ceased, as did the boy's movements and cries of protest.

When their mother, who'd been visiting Geidi Prime at the time, from Lankiveil, had demanded from Feyd an explanation, he'd simply walked over to his twin, took her trembling hand in his—firmly, territorially—and said lowly 'mine'.

It took him bludgeoning another boy—this time with his bare fists, simply for looking at Lea for a few seconds too long for his personal liking—before other parents refused allowing their children to play with them anymore.

Then it was just the two of them.

And she'd never seen Feyd more content.

He doted on her. Would bring her novels with pretty pictures inside, soft colorful toys, her favorite snacks, and would simply watch—ever observant of her every move, every breath, and blink, and swallow— as she read, played with, or ate the things he alone gifted her. As if she was some creature to be minutely observed and studied.

It made her nervous. On edge. Her stomach queasy and hands shaking at the way his dark, depthless eyes never left her. She would find herself often looking up at him from under her lashes, wishing he would find something to occupy his own self with, but it didn't take long before she understood that she was that very thing.

Not long after the two of them began growing into their bodies did Feyd's obsession take a disturbingly dark and drastic turn.

When he was not training, he was ever-present at Lea's side. They shared their meals together, their lessons together, and eventually a room—more specifically a bed, Feyd's bed—together.

He had not asked anyone's permission, but had simply one day commanded servants to have Lea's things placed in his room, along with a bed more than large enough for two.

Lea had been with her seamstress that day, being fitted for a new dress, and thus completely unaware when she returned to her private quarters, finding them empty of all her personal affects. When she turned to walk out the door, panicking as to why her things had disappeared, Feyd had been leaning against the doorway, arms crossed, a quite-pleased look on his face.

'Come' was the only word he offered her as he turned on his heel and headed in the direction of his room next to hers.

Dutiful as always, she'd followed, taken completely by surprise at the site of his newly-arranged room when he'd led her inside.

When she had asked him why, unable to understand, as his room had always seemed such a private place for only him—even when it came to her—his response had been simple: we belong together.

She hadn't replied.

Their parents had both been visiting them again at the time, and had of course told Feyd that this behavior was to stop, and that Lea's things would be moved back immediately.

He had walked over to them, momentarily releasing his twin's hand and spoke lowly, so that only the two of them could hear, leaving Lea ignorant to whatever was transpiring.

When he stepped away, taking her hand in his once more, he didn't look back as he led his twin back to what was now their room. But Lea did. And she, as they turned a corner, was met briefly with the sight of her father's lips pressed into a thin line and her mother walking away from him, head bowed in defeat.

It had only been two weeks later before Lea woke up to Feyd's face between her thighs in the dark one night, his own clothes strewn across the floor as he worked at her with his tongue, the only light coming in from the windows beside the bed, which illuminated half of her twin's face in an ethereal glow.

She'd tried to squeeze her legs shut, filled with horror at whatever it was that her brother was trying to do to her, but he'd gripped her knees in both his hands, firm as steel, and forced them apart as he continued his ministrations.

She'd cried, pleading with him to stop. Begging. But he had paid her no mind until she came on his tongue, sobbing and filled with shame, not understanding what had just transpired.

Feyd had curled his naked body around her, his arms a vicelike grip around her dainty nightgown-clad frame, his erection pressed firmly into her back as he found sleep holding her against him.

Meanwhile, she didn't close her eyes again for the rest of the night, silent tears slipping down her cheeks and a feeling of mortification at the warm sensation and slickness between her legs.

The most significant mistake she ever made was not telling her parents. She had wanted to; had taken the steps to even try. She'd recorded a message—a shameful message, where she choked out her guilty admittance of what was happening to her between sobs. She had begged her parents to send for her, bring her to Lankiveil to be with them, but when Lea handed off the message to a servant to send, it was promptly delivered to her brother.

He destroyed it without a second thought.

He then returned to their room, informed her that he knew what she had done and she had simply sat, staring at him, too terrified to respond.

He'd stalked slowly toward her, his face unreadable.

He'd leaned down, gripping her chin painfully between his fingers. "You will never do that again. Your home is here, with me. Wherever I am is where you belong. Is that understood?"

She nodded, trying so desperately to understand him and his motivations for this new direction their relationship had taken.

"Feyd, you're..." She swallowed, and he never loosened his grip, his eyes boring into hers, willing further words from her lips. "You're na-Baron. The heir to our house. You could have any woman you want-"

He promptly cut her off. "You are all I want."

He stood back up then, straightening his spine, releasing her. "Stay here, I'll return to you this evening."

She obliged, curling into herself on the oversized mattress which smelled of him as hot tears greeted her pale cheeks.

She eventually cried herself to sleep, her mind no longer racing with the various scenarios of not only what she could do to get herself out of this new living situation, but what was going to happen to her if she didn't.

She'd been dreaming of pale hands around her throat, something cold slithering inside of her as a dark laugh filled her ears when she was jolted awake at the sound of a heavy door firmly closing shut.

She slowly rose, rubbing at her tired eyes when she noticed Feyd entering the room, dark eyes on her, a small smirk upon his lips as he traipsed over to the large black wardrobe on the other side of the room.

She glanced out the window and noticed how dark it had become while she slept.

She suddenly realized how hungry she was, that she hadn't eaten all day. But then her mind thought back to the events of the night before and that same appetite quickly vanished, replaced by a feeling of revulsion at the sight of her twin before her.

Her stomach growled anyway, causing Feyd to chuckle. “Are you hungry, sister?”

She gulped, afraid of her own voice now. “Yes,” she'd replied quietly.

Feyd shut the wardrobe, a dark bundle of fabric in his arms as he made his way back to her, bare feet padding against the hardwood beneath.

He held something out to her and she took it gently from him, slipping it off of his outstretched arm. She held it up before her. One of Feyd's more simple shirts. Black in color, the sleeves short, no embroidery or special design of any kind.

She looked back up to him, confused. “Put it on once you've finished bathing. I'll return shortly with dinner.”

He turned from her, exiting their bedroom once more.

She looked back down to the garment in her lap. He was choosing how she dressed now? What about undergarments?

She looked back over to the wardrobe and threw the shirt down onto the bed before going over to it. She'd had enough of this. He was not going to choose how she dressed as well. He was being utterly ridiculous.

She fingered one of her silk nightgowns, but hesitated before pulling it off the hanger. What if it made him angry—her going against his wishes?

She decided she didn't care. Feyd had never hurt her. He wouldn't start now.

She hoped.

She ignored the shirt on the bed as she made her way into the bathroom, shutting and locking the door behind her. She hung her nightgown on a hook, then stripped off her clothes, placing them in the hamper before she adjusted the water of the shower.

Before she could step in, her head quickly turned to the right at the sound of the handle being turned. He'd returned far more quickly than she'd anticipated. She watched with bated breath as the handle turned this way, then that, then stopped. She let out a sigh of relief that he'd given up—thankful she'd used the lock to begin with—before stepping into the hot water.

When she emerged from the bathroom, Feyd was waiting for her at the medium-sized table a few feet from their bed.

“Sit,” he'd commanded her, pulling out the chair next to him.

She didn't argue.

She took the designated seat, scooting herself closer to the table, while Feyd lifted the matte black lid from the dish before her. Grilled chicken breast, cooked with roasted vegetables, was the sight that greeted her.

She turned to her twin. “Thank you,” she said quietly.

He merely hummed in response.

Before she could reach for her cutlery, he had already beat her to it.

She watched as he sliced a piece of the tender chicken and stabbed at some green beans before lifting the fork to her mouth. He was going to feed it to her? She opened her mouth, brows furrowed, before he placed the tip of the fork inside. She closed down on it as he removed it in one swift motion. She chewed, then swallowed, watching as he repeated the motion.

“Feyd, I can—”

He cut her off by placing another forkful inside her mouth.

As he cut the chicken again, he spoke. “You locked the door.”

His tone was unreadable, but she knew he wasn't pleased that she had. So what, had he planned to join her?

She gave a nervous, forced smile. “Habit.”

He, once again, only hummed his response.

Little did she know that the next morning when she awoke, the lock on the bathroom door would be gone.

He fed her another forkful. “You didn't wear what I gave you to.”

That she could come up with no excuse for.

“I-” she started, but he cut her off by placing the fork in her mouth again.

She didn't like this.

“You won't do it again.” It was not a question.

As he lifted another forkful to her lips, she reached up, placing her hand over his wrist, forcing him to lower it. She turned to him then, their knees now touching. “Feyd, why are you acting like this all of a sudden? It's scaring me.”

He frowned. “You don't need to be afraid, Lea. Am I not taking care of you?” He asked, while looking at the room around them, then back down to the plate before her.

“I can take care of myself.”

He snorted, going to lift the fork again, but she kept her hand in-place. “Last night-”

He quickly cut her off. “You enjoyed it from what I remember. And what I remember is every second of it.” He could already feel an erection forming at the very thought of it.

She felt the color drain from her face.

“It's wrong,” she whispered, as if someone might hear.

His expression grew angry. “Says whom?”

He used his other hand to grip her upper thigh firmly and she winced. “We were made together, we are meant to be together. You belong to me.”

His tone had grown icily possessive. Entitled.

“I'm your sister. Feyd, we don't-”

“We-I can do anything I please. I am the heir to our house. No one will tell me otherwise.”

His grip was beginning to hurt her.

“Say it,” he commanded.

Tears stung her eyes. “Say what?”

“That you're mine. We belong to each other. Say it.”

Everything inside her wished to do otherwise. She didn't believe it. Couldn't understand for a moment how he himself could. Something had always been different about Feyd, in the worst way possible, but this side of him was unlike anything she'd ever seen.

She nodded. “I'm yours. We belong together.”

“You will obey only me. You will share my room, my bed, my clothes, my food, and anything else I deem fit. And only I am allowed to touch you.”

It was not something to be replied to. She only nodded, heart pounding so hard she wondered if he could also hear it.

Suddenly, the look on his face, as well as the iron grip he had on her thigh, relaxed.

He lifted the fork to her lips, a playful smirk once again upon his. “Open.”

She did.

Once dinner was through, Feyd walked into the bathroom, never closing the door. She looked away as he began to undress right in front of her. She allowed a small sob to escape her lips once she heard the water start, and the door to the shower, with slick black marble walls, close.

She placed her head in her hands. This day had always been coming. She should've known that. He had ensured it over the years as he made her more and more alienated. He had wanted her all to himself, and he had finally gotten what he'd always wanted—desired—above all else.

Once Feyd emerged, Lea was lost in thought, looking out the large window behind their bed, which ran the width of it, once again. She only noticed him when she felt the mattress beside her dip.

Feyd's large hands found her hips, as he rested his chin upon her right shoulder. “What are you looking at, my love?”

Love. He had no idea what that word meant. She wasn't sure she did either, now.

“Nothing.”

He hummed. “Lie down.”

She wasn't tired. She'd slept all day.

“I'm not tired, Feyd.”

His right hand snaked between her thighs. “Perhaps I can help.”

She jolted, turning away from the window, her back slamming into the small ledge which encased it behind her. Her horror grew when she saw that her twin was completely naked.

“Feyd, w-what-”

“This is how I prefer to sleep. Soon, you will, too.”

So he could predict her future wants and wishes now? She was still her own person. He didn't fucking own her. Didn't know her own mind better than her.

“No, I won't.”

The palm of his hand came to rest over her sex, displeased she was wearing underthings. “Do not be difficult, Lea.”

“This isn't natural-”

He cut her off, as always, preferring to do all the thinking for her. “The only thing that would be unnatural would be trying to reject it. Hide it. You will learn to embrace it. And you will enjoy it.”

She shook her head. She opened her mouth to protest, but he crushed his lips against hers, so hard it made her teeth hurt. He forced her lips open, plunging his tongue so deep inside it made her gag. He gripped her hips again, sliding her down on the mattress. He fought to remove her nightgown, then animalistically tore her underwear from her body.

She could barely breathe or see or think through the tears. “Feyd, please-”

While she was begging him to stop, in his mind, she was begging him to go further, and he was more than willing to comply.

His lips descended upon her neck, her breasts, her stomach, her thighs, her sex—which he devoured. His hands stayed locked around her wrists, holding them firmly above her head, then down at her sides as he licked and sucked and kissed at the glistening pink jewel between her legs. His erection pressed into the mattress, pre-cum soaking into the sheets beneath him as she whined and thrashed wildly. He nearly laughed like a madman at how wanton she seemed to be.

This was right. So very, very right, he thought as he fucked her with his tongue, lavishing every last drop of her. He concentrated on the small bundle of nerves, sucking and flicking the tip of his tongue against it. Moaning as her hips lifted as he did.

He bit into one of her thighs, so hard he drew blood and she cried out in shock and pain, while he simply placed his mouth over the wound, licking at the red substance which trickled out. The sight of his bite-mark in an area which only he had access to, blood leaking out, excited him so much he could no longer contain himself. He rose up, plunging his throbbing cock from shaft to hilt deeply inside of her.

Her breathe caught in her throat at the incredible pain. She barely had a chance to catch it as Feyd wildly bucked his hips against her, grunting and moaning, skin slapping against skin as he lost himself in the pleasure of being inside of his twin.

He had waited so long for this moment. Had pleasured himself more times than he could ever count, to the very thought—fantasy—of it. Had stroked his cock so many times until he was so sore he could barely stand to touch it, then did it even more, relishing—enjoying—the pain.

Nothing had ever felt more right than this. Than the two of them being joined together like this—there. He looked down, her small breasts bouncing with every pump of him—his beloved twin who he would always, always take care of and protect—inside of her. Her pale face was streaked with tears, which he then licked and kissed away, enjoying the salty taste of her upon his tongue. Her face was flushed, lips swollen from kissing and crying.

He understood it now.

Crying from happiness.

He didn't cry himself. Never had, but nearly could this night. Everything was so perfect. Every night for the rest of their lives could be like this—nay, would be. Him buried as deep as he could be inside of her. Her lost to the pleasure he was more than willing to provide.

He watched as his cock plunged in and out of her, and noticing it covered in blood, their thighs as well—from him breaking her hymen, to the bite mark he'd left on her thigh—it was all too much and he couldn't contain it any longer. He went thundering over the edge. His hips slamming wildly against her, him loudly moaning out his release as his hot and plentiful seed spilled into and out of her. His twin, his lover, his everything.

He collapsed on top of her, his cock still twitching inside her, and he tried to calm his breathing.

He felt...euphoric. Like a god.

How could something that felt so good, so incredibly right, ever—ever—be considered wrong? Let them try to tear them apart: their parents, their brother, the guards or servants. He would kill them all until they were the only two left. His uncle would be the only one to understand. He had a similar...affliction when it came to finding pleasure with those society deemed unfit for the job.

He was his heir, however. And if his uncle approved, then no one else mattered. And if he didn't, he would kill him, too.

A fight between the two would be little challenge, he mused.

Slowly, Feyd rose, looking down tenderly at Lea, while her eyes seemed to refuse to meet his. His brows furrowed.

“What is wrong?” He placed a gentle kiss to her soft cheek.

Everything, she wanted to say.

She hadn't wanted it...at first. It was wrong. She knew that. Siblings—family—weren't meant to be like this. But, at some point, the pain had turned somewhat...pleasurable. And she liked it...what he did with his mouth between her thighs. She then thought it herself: why, exactly, did it have to be wrong?

Yes, they were twins, shared blood, but if it wasn't hurting anyone, then what reason did they truly have to stop? She felt sick with herself to even consider such things. To consider that maybe he had been right.

What was happening to her?

He sat on his side, looking down at her, while his right hand held his head up, his left rested gently on her stomach.

She looked at him. “I don't think...that it will be an easy adjustment for me.” She paused. “Whatever this is.”

“Did you not enjoy it?” He knew she had. Had heard the sounds she made, had coated his tongue and cock in her wetness. Had felt her clenching tightly around him.

All was silent between them for a long while, until, finally, she replied.

“Yes.”

He filled with satisfaction. He had done it. Had unlocked something inside of her. Something which only he possessed the key to.

He kissed her, long and deep, before rising from the bed. He held out his hand to her. “Come, let's get ourselves cleaned up.”

As Feyd washed the two of them, he silently hoped the bite mark he'd left would scar, a permanent memento of the first night they lied together. His own personal brand of ownership upon her body.

Once they were back in bed, it'd only taken a moment for Lea's naked form to relax against Feyd's, his arms firmly wrapped around her, as she found sleep pressed against his chest.

During the next few weeks, the two of them barely left their room, unless it was for studying, or Feyd's training. During that time, Feyd almost always kept the two of them bare before one another, the door locked.

They were near-always in bed, doing learning of a different kind.

Feyd had spent hours every day using his hands, his fingers, his mouth and tongue and teeth, his cock—everything he had at his disposal, really— to learn every facet of his twin's body. He wanted to have every inch of her memorized. Schooled himself on what things he did that made her tremble and shake, whine and plead, soaking their sheets, and what things made her disinterested or uncomfortable.

He paid acute attention to her breathing, her swallowing, her complexion. Her body language, inside and out. From the way she lifted and lowered her hips, spread her legs for him, what made her wet and dripping quite quickly and what made her seem to dry up, to how she clenched when he stuck parts of himself, or other objects inside of her.

It was pleasurable for him, yes, but he was mostly fascinated by how her body worked in conjunction with his own. As the days went on, his conviction that the two of them were literally made for one another only grew stronger, until nothing could convince him otherwise.

She liked when he was slow and gentle. That much had become apparent very early on. And he took no qualms with dragging out their lovemaking. Eventually, he had managed to perfect the process to taking hours. His cock and fingers and sex toys slipping in and out of her at an excruciatingly slow pace. His erection would throb painfully at the sight of her spread open before him, her cunt red and dripping, she quietly whimpering his name repeatedly, like it was the only word left in all the world.

He would tease her, barely brushing his thumb over her sensitive clit, while her body jerked in response. He'd blow gently against the slickness pooling between her thighs and she would sometimes begin to cry from sexual frustration.

It wasn't just about learning, however. He was also training her. Training her mind to begin working differently when it came to fucking him.

She had resisted from time to time when it all first began, but never had Feyd allowed that to stop or hinder him. He knew best for her. For the both of them. It would just take his being patient for it to settle permanently into place within her like it had him. So when she would fight against it—him—he would hold her down, or sometimes would tie her up, which he noticed quickly made things much easier when he had all his faculties at his disposal, and would get to work on her sensitive body.

There was a toy that was a particular favorite of his. Something which he could clip onto her clit and control with a small remote. It would vibrate at various frequencies, all while he slowly plunged his aching cock in and out of her.

When she would try to make him stop any way she could, he would turn the toy off, making sure to note how she clenched around him—never bothering to remove his cock from inside of her—all the confirmation he needed to know she liked it all as much as he did, whether she wished to admit it audibly or no. She would look up at him pleadingly then, but he wouldn't move an inch until she gave him what he wanted. An apology and 'please'. And then he would start up again.

Sometimes, it took the better part of a day before the two of them would orgasm together. She was the one who made the process take so long, but he didn't mind. He lost himself in it. In her.

He knew she absolutely loved when his face was between her legs. So, he endeavored to give her oral sex quite often. But only when she was good for him. He wasn't just going to give her what she wanted if she wouldn't do the same for him. And all he wanted was for her to behave however he wished at any given moment. And when she did, he rewarded her, quite generously.

He had taught her how to perform oral sex on himself as well, allowing her throat to adjust to the size of him. Sometimes she would gag trying to take him all in. Sometimes she would suck, quite content with him buried deep in her warm wet mouth, his seed spilling down her throat, down her chin when he finally finished as her head continued to bob against him, cleaning him lovingly with her tongue.

He knew the guards outside their doors knew. Sometimes he fucked her up against it, grunting loudly for all to hear him claiming her over and over again as his personal property.

The servants it was most certainly not hidden from. They soiled their sheets daily, sometimes multiple times a day. Their clothes strewn across the floor, her panties often soaked through, needing washed. Sometimes, despite her words of protest, he would fuck her right in front of them.

The day their father came to put a stop to things—having been told by a messenger, which was later found choking to death in a puddle of his own blood on a cold floor—the door had been locked as always, but he'd been given the key. (Feyd later rectified this. A new knob was put into place, which he himself had the only key to.) And when he opened the door, the sight before him stopped him, horrified, in his tracks. And he regretted returning to Geidi Prime, knowing what awaited him when he did.

Feyd had been sat on the bed, naked, his erection settled between his legs, one foot planted on the floor, while Lea was hunched over before him. Her face had been turned toward the same door her father had just walked through, her head resting on a pillow, her expression one of pure pleasure—her cheeks pink, her mouth slightly open as she panted gently, lids hooded—while her ass-end was in the air before her twin.

She had a toy clamped firmly over her clit, which emitted a low vibrating sound, and he watched as Feyd slipped a toy inside her cunt, which already contained one, him trying to stretch her to her limits, while she simply moaned in pleasure. His other hand coming down to smack her already-red behind.

Lea froze, shame filling her, along with a feeling of nausea. But she didn't move, didn't dare anger her brother as he looked at their father, an evil smirk on his face.

“Hello, father.” Was all the greeting he gave him as he removed both the toys from inside his younger sister by five minutes, tossing them onto the bed, before easing himself into her, never looking back to see their father exit without another word as he began fucking her himself.

He and Lea came together only a few moments later before beginning again, never speaking a word of what had just occurred.

The few and far between times when they dined with their parents when they were visiting, the twins always sat next to one another, Feyd's hand gripping her thigh, sometimes his finger's exploring between her legs, sometimes a toy even stuffed inside her as they ate. Not to mention that Feyd had completely altered her wardrobe.

The only gowns she was allowed to wear outside their room now were incredibly sheer, everything practically on display. The guards were intelligent enough to know not to so much as glance in her direction. The gowns served as both a challenge and a statement, she knew.

Feyd hoped desperately just one of them would look at her. He'd cut their eyes from their sockets while she watched. All for her.

So, while they all dined, Lea would hardly touch her food. Meanwhile, Feyd would clean his plate. Their parents never looked at or spoke to either of them. Too disgusted by what they had become. Too ashamed to speak it out loud. Or, perhaps, afraid to, in fear of what their son may do in response.

When they would finish, Feyd would stand, then pull out his sister's chair, before heading back in the direction of their room, her following closely and silently behind, her thighs slick with herself from whatever toy he'd chosen for her to have that night, if not the back of her gown as well.

She didn't know it, but Feyd got off on it: their parents knowing what the two of them were doing together. That it was forbidden, but that they enjoyed one another in so many ways in spite of it.

They needn't worry about a grandchild yet, however. Feyd had had an implantation put into Lea to ensure there was no such risk after their first night together. This way, they could simply enjoy one another.

Eventually, their parent's visits ceased, and finally there was no one left to try and stand in Feyd's way of making her wholly and utterly his own.

Over time, Feyd no longer allowed Lea to leave their room. He'd had the air leading into it purified—a very difficult and expensive process—and he'd also had her diet modified, health supplements were delivered regularly, which she was also directed to take daily. And his hope of what it would all bring finally came to fruition. Long, dark hair began to grow from his twin's head, long enough for him to wrap around his fist after a few months, and it pleased him greatly.

Lea hadn't been sure how to feel about it at first. All her life she had been bald, like every other citizen of Geidi Prime. Hair-care was something she, nor anyone else, ever need concern them self with here. But Feyd had made it clear that this was something he wanted for—from—her. In time, she came to understand why.

Not only did she feel that it made her look more feminine, but she felt as much, too. As the hair grew longer and longer, Feyd had shipments of special soaps and oils, brushes and combs delivered. He tended to her hair himself.

One day, a new resident was delivered to their home. A stylist. She was the only other person allowed anywhere near his twin's hair. Once it reached Feyd's desired length—just above Lea's bottom—he would have her brought into their room to have it cut. He would stand closely by, arms crossed, ever-observant as she would trim the ends; the threat of having her throat cut open always looming if she made one wrong snip.

When she would finish, she would stand to the side as Feyd took the hair in his hands and between his fingertips, ensuring it was perfect. Once he deemed it so, he would give her a small nod, and she would leave without another word.

Inevitably, Lea became stir-crazy being constantly locked up, her only company her twin brother. She had one day begged him to allow her to go outside, just for an hour or two, but he had simply slipped his fingers through her silky hair, before looking into her eyes and giving her a firm 'no'.

She had cried that night as he fucked her.

Over time, Lea began to lose weight, her hair began falling out, both of which caused even Feyd distress. She wasn't eating, was hardly sleeping, and spent all her time with her face pressed up against the window in their room, constantly staring outside, like a prisoner trying to escape through the bars to his cell.

Feyd had had servants come in and do a thorough cleaning of their room, the furniture re-arranged to better suit the space—some of it replaced altogether—and he'd had shipment after shipment of books and puzzles and paints and new nightgowns, and beautiful new brushes and hair accessories brought in. He'd even had, for each of her meal's, Geidi Prime's chef make only her favorite dishes, hoping it would lift Lea's spirits, bring her back to who she'd been a few months prior. But she showed little to no interest in all of it.

Even lovemaking had become a hollow chore. She would simply lie there limp, like a dead fish, as he pumped his cock in and out of her, her cunt barely even wet for him—and she was always wet for him at all times of the day—dripping and ready whenever he needed to take his release. Not even the toy for her clit had gained him a response. He'd put it carefully into place, and put it on the setting she liked the most, while he slipped two fingers inside of her to observe how she reacted. Her tight walls didn't clench even once, causing him to deflate, along with his erection.

Feyd felt at his wit's end. He knew all along what it was that she truly needed: out of their bedroom. Outside, even just for half-an-hour. But he was afraid—actually afraid—of what would happen to her hair if he allowed it. Would it fall out immediately? He seriously doubted it. But how often, then, could he allow her out, before that risk finally occurred. Before all his hard work to get it to grow in the first place became all for naught?

He couldn't understand why it meant so much to him. Something so simple. But he also did: his twin had something no other woman on their entire planet did. His lover, her beautiful head of hair, was something for other men to lust after. But only he was allowed anywhere near her.

Finally, one day, after she had not eaten for three in a row, and had only spoken a handful of words to him—only after he had spoken to her, at that—he relented.

“Let's go outside.”

Her head shot up and in his direction, her eyes wide against her now-gaunt face.

She slid toward the edge of the bed. “Do you really mean it?”

He nodded, while holding out a coat in her direction.

He slipped it on over her now too-slender shoulders and waited patiently as she slipped on a pair of shoes, barely paying enough attention to even make sure they matched, before she looked up to him excitedly.

He gave her a small smile in response, pleased to see the old her returning to him. He took her hand in his, her fingers now cold and bony, before he unlocked their bedroom door from the inside, then locked it behind them once they were in the hall.

They were only a few steps down the hall before Lea stopped in her tracks, Feyd looking to her. “I thought this was what you wanted?”

She didn't hear him as a roaring started in her ears. How long had she been locked in that room? Being outside of it now was overwhelming—no, more than overwhelming—she felt like she was going to be swallowed whole.

When had this hallway gotten to be so large? It engulfed her. It was never-ending; the world was. Too big, too much. Too much space. Suddenly, she couldn't breathe and she dropped to her knees, causing Feyd great alarm at the sight before him.

He kneeled in front of her as she curled into herself. What was happening?

He tried to pry her hands away from her face, but she swiftly put them back over her eyes.

“Lea, stop this.” he hissed.

But she couldn't hear him. She was whispering to herself 'no, no, no, no, no' over and over again. Both of them wondered if she had gone mad.

Finally, he scooped up her fragile frame in his arms and carried her back to their room, her face buried in his neck, terrified to look at the space around them.

Once she heard the door shut firmly behind them and lock, did her vision behind to clear and her breathing return to normal. Her heart rate slowed.

Feyd set her on the edge of the bed, while once again kneeling before her as he brushed her hair behind her ear, out of her face.

She began to silently cry. “I'm sorry. I don't... I don't know what happened.”

He pressed a quick kiss to her forehead before standing. “I'll fetch the doctor.”

Before she could tell him that that wasn't necessary, he was out the door and gone.

Lea had nearly started drifting off to sleep before Feyd finally returned, doctor in-tow as promised.

The same doctor who had implanted her birth control device some years prior. He was nearly the same age as their father, a few inches shorter than her brother, and thin, with a very serious disposition.

Feyd hovered over her protectively as the doctor retrieved a chair from the nearby table and sat it in front of her. “Can you tell me what happened today, My Lady?”

Lea glanced up to her twin, who gave her a small nod, his arms crossed, and she looked back to the doctor, then down to her hands.

“Earlier, Feyd and I were going to go for a walk. And when we left our bedroom, I... I felt like I couldn't breathe, couldn't see. I felt...so afraid, simply because we were standing in a hallway. One I've been in thousands of times before. It felt like it would never end. Like the world might swallow me.”

Finally, when she looked up, the doctor's features were overtaken by a sudden sense of understanding.

He stood then, Feyd following him a few feet away from her.

“What's wrong with my sister?” Feyd demanded answers from him in a low, gravely, but threatening voice.

The doctor somehow wasn't intimidated. “She has a condition, psychological, known as agoraphobia. When was the last time she left this room?”

Feyd didn't answer.

“It can manifest due to different things, and in different ways. I would say her particular case can be attributed to her being closed up in this room for months-on-end. She was made to feel comfortable, until there was no reason for her to leave. That is, until her body started urging her to do otherwise.”

“How do I fix her?”

“She needs to gradually work back up to being used to being outside of this room again. It won't be easy, for either of you. She'll battle you every step of the way, terrified of what may lie beyond that door, despite the fact that she already knows the answer.

“Start small, the hallway, then a nearby room, then another and another, until, finally, she's ready to go outside. You need to reassure her that she's safe, and that everything ends: the hallway, that the rooms she's in are just four walls and a door, even our planet is only so large. Everything has an end.”

“And if I allow her to stay in here, where she's most comfortable?”

The doctor glanced back to Lea, then to the young man before him and shook his head. “You already know the answer to that.” He sighed. “I can give her something for anxiety, and something to help her sleep, but the rest is up to her. It may help, for her to have a professional to speak to about how she's feeling, so as to gauge her progress. If so, I'd be happy to help.”

Feyd already knew that much he wouldn't allow. If she wanted—needed—someone to speak to, she had him. She didn't need anyone else. Especially another man. Doctor or not.

“Have the medications delivered once they're ready.”

With that, the doctor knew their conversation was at an end. He nodded, then made his way to the door. He briefly glanced back to the siblings behind him. “Please let me know if either of you need anything further,” and then he was gone.

Feyd walked over to Lea, kneeling before her while tears shone in her eyes. “What's wrong with me?”

He brushed a stray tear from her cheek with the pad of his thumb. “A condition, called agoraphobia. To put it plainly: you've been closed up in here so long, it's messed with your mind. Made you afraid of what's on the other side of the door.”

Her brows furrowed. “Ag-agor...” She trailed off, then shook her head. “How do we fix me?”

Feyd looked over his shoulder to the door behind him, then back to his twin.

Her eyes grew wide, then she began to shake her head. “No, I can't go back out there. Feyd, please. I know what I want now. I want to stay in here, with you. And when you leave, I'll wait for you to come back like I always do. I'll-”

He shook his head. “Being kept in here isn't helping you, either. You'll do as I say. I know what's best for you.”

A few moments later, there was a knock at the door, then, and when Feyd opened it, he was greeted by a slave holding a tray with two bottles, pills inside, meant for Lea. He took them without a word, closing the door in the young boy's face.

That night, Feyd didn't allow his little sister to leave the dinner table until she had eaten every last morsel from her plate. Once finished, he handed her a sleeping pill. Before taking it from his outstretched palm, she looked at him hesitantly.

“To help you sleep.”

She nodded, placed the pill on her tongue, then drank a sip of water. “How long until it takes effect?”

Feyd shrugged while standing. He pulled Lea's chair back and watched as she walked over to their shared wardrobe and slipped off her clothes from the day, dropping them to the floor. She went to put on one of Feyd's plain shirts, before he told her to stop.

She glanced back to him, already in bed. And naked.

She felt heat pool between her legs then, and she padded over to him. She came to stand before him, between both of his legs, and he gripped the backs of each of her thighs, then kissed her stomach. He then took his right hand and placed his palm firmly against her sex and hummed in satisfaction when his hand came away glistening and wet.

He then slipped two fingers between her folds and his cock hardened at the slick sensation. A proper diagnosis, treatment plan, and a decent meal later and already her body was coming back alive and responding to his touch again.

He eased one finger inside her tight cunt, and she gasped, her hand coming up to grip his shoulder. He then eased in another, and grinned as he felt her clench around him. It was when he eased in a third that her knees suddenly felt weak. He curled them upward, massaging the sensitive ledge inside of her and she threw her head back, closing her eyes.

When she began to moan, Feyd's grin grew wider, and he stopped.

Her eyes shot open, but before she could ask him to continue, he nodded toward the bed. “Lie down.”

She did as commanded and spread her legs, allowing her twin brother access to her.

He sat back on his haunches and placed one hand firmly on her stomach, while he slipped four fingers inside of her this time. He began fingering her so quickly she barely had a chance to catch her bearings. He pressed down on her lower stomach and she gasped at the heightened sense of pleasure.

Soon, Feyd's hand was coated in her, and obscene sounds were coming from between her legs.

She looked down, her eyes meeting Feyd's, which had grown impossibly dark, and watched as the muscles in his arm worked at finding her release.

She threw her head back against the mattress beneath her and opened her legs even wider then and could swear she heard her twin groan in approval.

The stimulation of him continually hitting that most pleasurable spot inside her, after a few more minutes, finally sent her over the edge, with her nearly screaming at the release he finally helped her find. Liquid shot out of her cunt, soaking the sheets beneath them. It was unlike anything she'd ever felt before at his hands.

He didn't stop until the squirting did, and then he dove in with his mouth.

Lea whined in pain, still too sensitive down there, but Feyd paid her no mind as he began to suck at her wet folds, circling his tongue over and over, lapping at her juices like a man desperate for water in the deserts of Arrakis.

“Feyd, please, no more.”

He responded by gripping her hips, pulling her closer to his open mouth.

She sat up on her elbows and looked down at him. “Please,” she panted, her cunt growing more and more sore as he continued on.

He rolled his eyes and began to fuck her with his tongue.

It'd been weeks since they'd been properly intimate. She wasn't going to deny him this. Something they both desperately needed.

Lea lied back down, bringing her hands over her eyes and trying her hardest to keep herself together as Feyd dined upon her body.

He'd be done soon enough, she was sure.

How deeply wrong she had been.

Once Feyd made her orgasm not once, not twice, but three times—the second orgasm sending her to tears at the pain of it, the third near-excruciating—he had slipped himself inside of her. She had cried quietly beneath him as he took his time easing himself slowly in and out of her.

She wasn't sure which she wanted less... Or perhaps more... For him to be gentle with her, given how sore she now was, or for him to pound away inside of her to get it over with more quickly.

Feyd began to run his thumb over her clit, which was now red and raw, while she pressed the heels of her hands into her wet eyes. “Feyd, I can't again. Please. It's so painful.” she choked out between sobs.

He ignored her pleas as he palmed one of her breasts, continuing to rub her clit.

Two more orgasms later on her part, Feyd finally came inside of her. She was exhausted by then. Her cunt was throbbing painfully, her brother's hot cum leaking out of her, and she was struggling to keep her eyes open, the sleeping meds having kicked in some time ago.

Feyd had crushed his lips to hers, satisfied that he had finally gotten to cum in her after being patient for so long.

When Lea fell asleep, it was with Feyd's arms around her, his naked frame wrapped around her own, and his cock buried inside her.

Lea lounged back in the bathtub large enough to be a pool and ran her fingers over the scars covering one of her thighs, then the bite mark on the other, which Feyd had given her the first night they had sex so long ago.

The scars on her left inner-thigh were her twin's doing. One for each year of their being together. Not as siblings, but together. As one flesh and soul and blood. He told her it was so she would never forget a moment between them.

It was to always mark the anniversary of that first night. And each time he would cut her, he would then drink until the blood stopped flowing.

He had matching scars on his own as well, administered by her. The first one she had done, she had tried it—his blood, per his request—and promptly gagged as the metallic taste filled her mouth. She, thankfully, didn't have to again after that first time. So long as the marks were made by her hand, he was satisfied.

She's removed from her reminiscing at the sight of her brother entering the bathroom. Feyd stands over the tub, looking down at her, her looking up at him in anticipation, when he finally reaches into the depths of the tub, removing the silver stopper.

She stands and her twin grabs a towel to wrap her in, but not before taking a moment to admire her wet, naked body.

Finally, he wraps her up and she follows Feyd out of the bathroom and watches patiently as he chooses a gown for her to wear for the day. He finally settles on a see-through lavender one. He then opens a drawer and retrieves a pair of nipple clamps.

Lea blanches at the sight of them. The gown was bad enough, but the clamps? Completely unnecessary.

Feyd gently tugged the towel away from Lea, and she let it drop to the floor. He took one of her breasts in his hand, and slipped the nipple clamp into place and adjusted the tightness until it stayed in place, then repeated the motion with her opposite breast.

Then, he slipped the gossamer gown over her head and retrieved a brush from a nearby table and ran it through her damp hair.

Once he deemed her appearance appropriate, she wrapped both her arms around his right one, and held on tight as he unlocked their bedroom door. She squeezed her eyes shut for just a moment at the sound of it, her heart already beginning to pound just at a lock coming undone.

Feyd led the two of them into the hall, locking their bedroom door behind them, and Lea’s grip only tightened. She didn’t want to look—to see the never-ending hall before them.

Feyd looked down to his twin, who along the way had become so incredibly fragile, and spoke lowly to her. “Open your eyes, my darling. You have to look.”

Lea slowly opened one eye, the other side of her face still pressed against Feyd’s upper-arm. As she looked around, she couldn’t help but feel like she was trapped in a tunnel with no exit.

They took one step forward, then another and another, Lea’s heart beating wildly the entire time, a feeling of such surety that if they went any further, something terrible was going to happen. Her feet halted where she stood and Feyd gave her a moment to catch her bearings. He planted a soft kiss upon the top of her head.

“A few more steps and then we’ll be in the library, my love.”

The library. With towering bookcase after bookcase. A labyrinth to get lost in.

She shook her head. “I want to go back now.”

Feyd drug her along another few steps. “You’ll do as I tell you.”

She wanted to beg further. How could she have ever wanted out of their room? Their bedroom where it was warm and pleasant. A large glass window to look out of at an unsafe world, in their safe and very comfortable, over-sized bed, piled with pillows and blankets. She had two large bookcases of her own, she didn’t need to peruse the nearby library.

She wanted to go back to bed with her brother and get lost in the feeling of him buried inside of her, his arms wrapped around her, where she was most safe. Or at the very least…felt most safe.

Once Feyd had finally gotten them to the library a few doors down from their room, he promptly shut the large doors behind them. Lea’s heart-rate slowed as she slowly took in their surroundings. She could make out all four sides to the room and the windows against the back helped illuminate the darkness, driving the shadows which threatened to swallow her away.

She let go of Feyd’s arm then and he watched her, studying her reaction to being in a new room for the first time in months. She hadn’t collapsed in on herself yet, but he wondered if it was all her, or if the pill he had given her for her anxiety played some part in it. Perhaps both.

She began to wander and wind through the bookcases, Feyd’s steps following closely behind her own. She pulled this book and that from the shelves, perusing, looking for a few novels to take back with her.

Her sheer skirt clinged to her naked body and her twin’s cock hardened at the sight of her being completely on display for all to see. He’d never caught them, but he was sure more than one guard had taken her in, her pert breasts, her round ass, her perfect cunt—his absolute favorite part of her which he never stopped thinking about. The thoughts that constantly circulated within his mind were all the things he wanted to do to her. The things he wanted to shove inside her cunt, just to see what her reaction might be. Even now.

Feyd pressed his chest against her back, then ran his hands under her gown, squeezing her ass in his grip. She laid her head back against him, closing her eyes. He then slid his hands higher, to her hips, then higher still, until he had both her breasts in his palms. He tugged gently against the clamps he had placed on her nipples and she moaned in the back of her throat. He tugged again and again and again, and she felt herself growing wetter with each tug.

Feyd took her hand, leading her over to an empty table and he gripped both of her hips, lifting her onto it. She leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to his lips, but before she could pull away, he gripped the back of her head and crushed his lips against her own. She opened her mouth, allowing him entry and he flicked his tongue against hers over and over.

Finally, he pulled away and took her in. She had grown so thin. He intended to rectify that as time went on. He wanted her hips and breasts and ass full and healthy like they had been.

“Lie back.”

She did as her twin told her.

Feyd ran his hand from between her breasts, to her stomach, to her sex, then used both his hands to trail down her thighs, all the way down to her ankles, which he gripped, placing both her feet flat upon the top of the table, spread wide.

Lea’s heart pounded with excitement at whatever her older brother was about to do to her.

Feyd reached up to the neckline of her gown and ripped it open in one swift motion.

Lea’s mouth fell open. This one had been one of her favorites...

“What will I wear back to our room?”

Feyd smirked, then shrugged. “I suppose nothing, darling.”

Heat settled between her legs.

Feyd stepped away from her for a moment, disappearing around the edge of one of the shelves and Lea waited patiently. She heard the sound of a drawer opening, then closing and she tugged gently at both of her nipple clamps waiting for him to return to her. Her wetness was slipping down her ass and onto the table by the time he returned.

She lifted her head, looking at him standing at the edge of the table, something glinting in his right hand.

Her brows furrowed as he set it down.

Feyd dropped into the seat behind him, then scooted it forward, making himself comfortable before he got to work. He quickly pulled his cock from his pants, not bothering to pull them down. Just wanting some relief as his erection was now straining painfully against the material.

He reached forward, spreading Lea’s lips between her legs open with two of his fingers and groaned as he watched her clench.

He picked up one of the slim silver pens he had found in a nearby drawer and slipped the bottom-end of it into her.

She jerked at the cold feeling of the metal entering her, then relaxed.

“Stay still,” Feyd said, and she didn’t dare argue.

He slipped in another and watched as the two pens bobbed as her walls clenched once, then twice.

He slipped in yet two more and she whimpered, liking what was being done to her. She always enjoyed when Feyd filled her to her limits, if not sometimes a bit past it.

Lea stretched her arms above her head and arched her back, spreading her legs wider for him and Feyd hummed his approval as she lowered herself back down onto the table. She started gently pulling against her nipple clamps once again as Feyd slipped another pen inside her eager cunt.

That made five, and he knew she was wet enough to take a few more easily.

He slipped in two more at the same time and Lea sighed, wishing he would play with her clit. She knew better than to do so herself. She’d only tried that once while they were being intimate together and he’d told her sternly she was never do so again, that that part of her was for him alone to touch and she had nodded, indicating that she understood.

She’d gotten punished thoroughly, however, the day Feyd had come into their room and saw that she’d been busy playing with herself without his knowledge or permission. Her right hand had been rubbing away between her legs, fingers plunging in and out of herself, a pillow placed under her hips.

She’d been so engrossed in pleasuring herself that she hadn’t even noticed her twin, who was now seething, standing at the side of the bed. She’d been broken from her near-orgasm at the sound of something shattering against the wall. She’d jerked and yelped, now-frightened, and the expression on Feyd’s face had been one of pure rage.

She quickly removed her hand from between her legs, but there was no trying to hide what she’d been doing. Feyd had climbed on the bed and she tried to scoot away from him, now afraid, but he’d gripped her hips, yanking her back down to him. All she could do was stare up at him as he seethed, his anger palpable, rolling off of him in waves.

All was deathly quiet for a few minutes, until, finally, he gripped her cunt painfully in his hand, his eyes boring into her own as she withered underneath his gaze. “This belongs to me. It is my property. Mine to do with as I wish. It is for only me to touch, and me alone. I own it. If you need relief, you come find me. You will never touch yourself like this again without my knowledge. Is that understood?”

She nodded over and over again, tears brimming in her eyes.

“Say it,” he commanded, with acidity.

“I understand, I’ll do whatever you say.”

He nodded, then gripped her hips and threw her onto her stomach while he lowered himself onto her calves, holding her into place as he spanked her ass red and raw until she couldn’t sit down for a solid week afterward. He then flipped her back over and spanked her cunt until she was sobbing so hard she couldn’t breathe and it was beyond raw, swollen and blood-red. Feyd had fingered her brutally then until she bled, his fingers covered in it, and came so hard she screamed in agony at the feeling.

Any temptation to touch herself after that day was more than removed. She had learned her lesson.

So, Lea lied there as Feyd shoved pen after pen into her, until the count was up to ten and she was sure she couldn’t take anymore.

Her twin’s own heart pounded, appreciating the view before him of his own doing. Her hole stretched nearly to its limits, full.

He had three pens left and shoved another in and Lea’s head shot up, looking down at Feyd. “Feyd, please, I don’t think anymore will fit. It already hurts.”

He glanced up to her. “There’s only two more left. Can you not handle it?” He asked, twirling one between his fingers.

She considered him for a moment, then concentrated on just how full she currently felt. She brought one of her hands down between her legs and lightly brushed her fingertips over all the pens currently sticking out of her. She then leaned back on that same arm. “I don’t think so.”

Feyd considered her for a moment, then nodded and she let out a sigh of relief, lying back down.

Feyd leaned back in his chair and pulled his pants down, stroking his cock at the beautiful sight before him.

Lea knew what he was doing just from the sound alone and she felt her walls clench, causing Feyd to chuckle at the sight of the pens bobbing half-in half-out of her. She was just grateful she had something to clench around, even if it was something rather unusual. But she liked it; it felt good to her.

Feyd had only tried it himself a handful of times before, but he wished for something to put in himself now as well, feeling it was only fair.

He stood, walking back to the desk from before and removed a thin letter opener. He returned to his seat from before and sat. He used the grip of it and gradually eased it into the slit at the opening of his cock. It was painful, yes, but it only made it all the better for him.

He kept stroking, watching as Lea’s tight walls kept those pens bobbing every few seconds, her hands fondling her breasts. Once he was close, he removed the letter-opener, letting it clatter to the floor and he stood, stroking furiously before he came all over his sister’s stomach.

Lea looked up at him lovingly. “Do you feel better now, brother?”

Feyd’s lips twitched. “Nearly.”

He never stopped stroking, despite his cock protesting against him. But the pain of it, turning him on all the more, his skin hot, made him come quickly yet again, this time on Lea’s naked breasts. Finally, when he came a third time, it was on her outstretched tongue, some of it shooting into the back of her throat.

She had licked her lips, savoring the taste of him and Feyd had gently gripped the back of her head, bringing her closer to his throbbing cock and she swallowed him whole, cleaning him with her tongue, swirling it around him this way and that, the only sounds to fill the silence around them being that of her sucking him off.

Feyd threw his head back, bucking his hips, making her gag, then settling again as she continued her steady rhythm. He thought with a wry smirk that her having two out of three holes filled at once wasn’t too bad.

He had trained her so well.

Finally, his lust got the better of him and he gripped the back of her head, his fingers tangled in her hair, and began to fuck her mouth. Brutally.

She gagged and choked and struggled to breath—tears stinging her eyes at the inability to—but Feyd kept wildly bucking his hips, shoving his thick cock in and out of her mouth until a few seconds later he came, her throat filling with hot cum.

When he removed himself, she gasped for breath, sputtering and coughing through his seed.

She wasn’t upset, however. Sometimes he liked doing things roughly. Sometimes she did, too.

Feyd removed her gown from under her and used it to wipe the spit and cum from around her mouth, then threw it onto the floor. He walked around to the edge of the table where all eleven pens were still lodged firmly inside of her, and gripped them all in his fist.

She shot up, however, gripping his wrist in her own. “Don’t.”

Feyd looked at her with a raised brow, surprised.

“You want me to leave them?”

She nodded, a blush creeping onto her cheeks and breasts.

Feyd smiled wickedly. “So be it.”

He did, however, shove them a bit further in, then pulled them back toward him, then repeated the motion over and over again, and she moaned his name, tangling her fingers in her hair. Her walls gripped them all so tightly, so firmly in place. He hummed his approval.

He stopped for a moment and watched as they bobbed and bobbed as her walls continued to clench from the stimulation. Feyd wanted to take her back to their room and stay up all night seeing what other sorts of things she’d enjoyed being shoved and fucked inside of her.

He helped her down from the table, her gown ruined and in tatters on the floor, her cunt filled to the brim, and her skin covered in his dried cum.

He took her hand in his and grabbed the books she had chosen, placing them under his opposite arm before he opened the doors to the library and they exited.

The feeling of utter fullness between Lea’s legs was enough to distract Lea on their way back to their bedroom from instead focusing on the space around them.

Once Feyd unlocked the door, he allowed Lea to enter first, and when he glanced over his shoulder, a feeling of being watched suddenly present, he saw their mother halfway down the hall, knew she had seen his twin covered in him, something protruding from her young cunt.

He gave her a satisfied smile before following Lea inside, shutting the door behind him and locking it.

Lea sat back on the bed, her legs spread apart, hoping Feyd would come give her some form of relief, her clit now swollen. Instead, he went into the bathroom and drew a bath for her. As the water ran, he returned to her, kneeling before their bed where she sat and slowly remove the pens one by one, dropping them onto the floor, until her cunt was just a gaping hole needing desperately to be filled.

Slowly, he eased his fist inside of her and she groaned in satisfaction. He used two fingers to massage her vaginal walls and her toes curled at the sensation. He kissed her clit and she whimpered. “Please, Feyd.”

“Not right now.”

She threw her head back in frustration.

After a few more strokes of his fingers inside of her, he removed his fist and she pouted at the sudden feeling of being empty.

Her twin simply offered her his hand and guided her into the bathroom.

#fic: dune (feyd‚oc)#dune fanfic #feyd rautha fanfic #feyd rautha harkonnen fanfic #dune fanfiction #fey rautha fanfiction #feyd rautha harkonnen fanfiction #t: longfic

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a-small-writer-in-a-big-world · 4 months

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Secrets: simon ghost riley x f!reader

Warnings: mentions of past torture, angst, implied past toxic relationship, OC mentions

@thedevillovesflowers 's OC Vitally shows up as he's woven into this story, please go check out her art of him! It's very good.

This is part of the Quiet series

You understand now why Laswell had been a little nervous to let Price take you on this mission. Kostovia wasn’t Russia but it was close enough that you couldn’t help but a little more on edge as the helo got closer to the target location.

It had only been two years since you'd been in Russia and you hadn't been close since.

"From the last intel we got, Konni Group has been finding ways to fly under the radar," Laswell had explained. "We believe that they'e using an outpost in Kostovia to do so..."

"Nothing like hitting them at their source." Ghost grunted and softly nudged you.

You pushed away your worries and looked to him across the helo. When you made eye contact, you gave him a quick smile and he nodded.

There was very little chance you'd fall back into the enemy's hands, especially when Ghost was taking overwatch. He'd fight tooth and nail to keep you with the team.

He gave you a pat on the shoulder, lingering just a couple seconds, before he was dropped off as his location.

You hid the way that warmth spread across your chest from the action and licked your lips to stop another smile from creeping across your face before the helo touched down.

"Quiet and Soap take the top floors." Price ordered and you nodded. "Gaz and I will take the bottom. Any visuals, Ghost?"

"Negative." Ghost's voice crackled in the comms.

"Stay on guard. Watch your six."

The outpost, surrounded by dense forest, looked completely empty from the outside. There were signs of life, a couple trucks and supplies scattered around the dirt, but otherwise there was no movement. There didn't even seem to be movement inside, there were no lights on despite it being the middle of the night.

You frowned but followed behind the others, keeping your sights up.

It was possible they had been tipped off, you wouldn't be surprised. Konni Group had eyes and ears everywhere, they were like rotted roots and yet thrived. The intel to get here had been gotten relatively recently, almost a little too recent for them to have packed up and left however.

You followed behind Soap as he stepped inside. Your steps were quiet as you moved towards the stairs of the building before you heard clattering behind you.

You barely had a moment to shut your eyes before the flash grenade went off with a loud bang. Your ears rang and you heard shouting before Soap pulled you to behind cover as bullets ricocheted around you.

"It's a fucking ambush." He yelled before he returned fire.

You joined him, gunning down as many of the enemies as you could see while avoiding any of the bullets. it was hard to tell how many of them their were and you hoped that you were dwindling their numbers.

"Reinforcements are coming from the north!" Ghost called in and you clenched your jaw.

They were trying to box all of you in.

"Quiet, find a way up and help Ghost." Price ordered and you signaled to him that you heard.

You fought your way through the catwalk, moving up a few more stairs and eliminating any hostiles you came across. You quickly found a room with windows facing north before you shot open one of them and grabbed your rifle to signal to Ghost.

"Got you in my sights." He said and you smiled.

You began to open fire and picked off the reinforcements with his help. Both of you moved with efficiency and as the gunfire within the building lessened and the reinforcements were dead, you signaled to Ghost in an attempt to tell him good job.

"Quiet!"

You were grabbed from behind too quick for you to react. You grunted when a fist landed against your vest right on your ribs and you struggled against your assailant. You slammed your elbow back as hard as you could and remembered all of the techniques Ghost went through when sparring with you.

However the man tighten his hold on you and slammed you on the ground, knocking the window out of you before he pinned you down.

"I know you." He laughed as a sneer pulled at his lips. "You're Vitally's girl."

You're eyes widened. Your heart dropped and began to pound against your chest as you struggled harder against him to no avail. Your mouth went dry and for a moment the man on top of you was not a stranger but Vitally.

His eyes were dark and you could see the scars across his face. He stared down at you with a fierce look of malice, a look you were forced to see for an entire year before he you finally escaped. You could taste his blood in your mouth from when you finally managed to fight back against his torture, you were finally able to harm him in same way.

The man above you chuckled darkly and you were brought back to the present.

"I've got a message for you." He taunted as he leaned close to your ear despite your best efforts. "Vitally is happy to know you're alive, he wishes you the best. He want me to tell you he'll see you again, little mysh."

You screamed and put all of your strength into pushing him off. You grabbed your knife and shoved it into his abdomen repeatedly. You knocked him to the floor and straddled him as you continued on pure survival instinct.

You only stopped when he didn't gurgle on his blood and you pushed off of him quickly. Your chest hurt and you couldn't breathe as you got tunnel vision, only focusing on the mass amounts of blood covering you.

"Quiet?" Ghost asked urgently. "How copy?"

You shut your eyes and choked back a whimper.

Vitally was back.

He had disappeared the day you escaped but struck you with fear with just the thought of him. He was a tangible threat now, using his looming presence to taunt you and he knew you were alive. You had hoped he had thought you were dead, having frozen to death in the snow but you should've known better.

He was the eyes and ears that were everywhere.

He was the key to everything. If he was caught, if he was interrogated, he would have all of the answers the 141 needed to take down Makarov but it would look suspicious.

No one knew about him, not even Laswell, and the other's who did were dead. It would put you as suspect if you told anyone about him now, especially when you had so many chances to do it, when you knew this crucial information for two years now. It would be unlikely if anyone would believe you if you told them the entire truth.

If you did you could only imagine what would happen. They might dishonorably discharge you or throw you in prison. You'd be left alone, isolated and you would suffer.

And he knew that.

This was just another way to torture you. He wanted you to live in constant fear for the day everyone would turn against you because then he would be there to pick you back up. To make himself the only one you could "rely" on if he didn't kill you first.

"Quiet." Ghost demanded and snapped you out of it.

Ghost...you could trust him with anything but this? A secret this big that would end this long war against a mass terrorist? You couldn't help but wonder if he'd see you as a traitor.

You just had to stay quiet. Do as you were told and to not "say anything." You were good at that.

You signaled to him that you were okay and stood up on shaky legs. You kept your face as neutral as possible when you walked to the window and waved at him.

The gunfire had stopped and you were left completely numb.

Tags: @buckysjuicyplums I don't think i can tag twice but @thedevillovesflowers @sleepyycatt

#quiet series #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x you #ghost x reader #ghost x you #simon riley x you #simon riley x reader #call of duty #simon ghost riley #mw2 ghost #ghost mw2

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nostalgink · 6 months

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Due to some past trauma from previous fandoms, I'm not particularly one to engage in fandom related discourse anymore, but when you not only name-drop me, but continue to perpetuate lies about not only me, but also my friends.... that's when I'd rather "clear my name" than allow for a nasty rumor to circulate when I know it's out there.

I want to go through everything that went down in order as best as possible. Even though I’ve spent so much time on this receipt post, truly this issue was something very small, the root of the issue lies with CookieRuby herself, given she decided to continue to create and perpetuate lies and rumors about myself and others. I know she will most likely continue to make up whatever she wants to have happened to obtain pity from those who do not know the context, but I thought that if she was going to do so regardless, I might as well let everyone know mine and my friends’ side of things. Because sadly I got some very worried and confused messages wondering if the statements were truthful. Hopefully this reassures most that they are in fact not.

I also would like to say while I am deeply upset that someone would lie about me like this and continue to emotionally manipulate, then double down on it all… I still do want to say that if you know people who act as such to please help them get the help they need. The timeline of this basically showcases us interacting at 3 points ever, but its obvious in her own obsessive world she has created, it has been brewing with her much longer. Which all of this is genuinely concerning and I hope she gets help. Despite my anger.

In the beginning

I believe I knew about them prior to them joining the old Darkwing Duck RP server I used to be active in back in 2022. If you know me, I follow practically every artist in the fandom. Especially as the fandom loses traction and there are less and less of us actively creating works. So naturally I followed. I even found her oc interesting. I mean why wouldn’t I? Magentus, while more of an oc now than he was in the past, at the end of the day still is my sona so to speak. I love seeing others put themselves into their own work in their own ways. Unfortunately once I got to know them, their attitude towards others when it came to their oc soured my interest.

In a lot of her posts, she makes claims towards my friends and I (as well as I suppose vague unknown other “harrassers” prior to us. I only put it in air quotes because the amount of lying she does, ironic I know, makes me question the validity of anything she says.) that we actively hated and made fun of her for disliking Drakepad. As you can see in the screenshots provided, that is exactly the oppposite.

I also want to mention the screenshots here are an anonymous friend’s server that I used to be active in. In the screenshots provided by Soy, it refers to their old server. Though I believe there is a point in our screenshots where one is referenced in another. (I am currently not looking at them, so I can recall which is referenced in which.) I wanted to make sure there was no confusion with that. These were provided to me by Drake. I could not find them on my own. This was her asking about playing her oc initally. and some stuff I didn't screenshot previously I think?

On Soy’s Side of things

Initially I had another draft of this whole rant, but because of these screenshots I got so peeved that I spiraled into a mad disorganized rage due to the ridiculousness of all of this. So I thought it would be best to rework my words into a more composed response. Personally I had read the first set of messages after they had happened, but when it comes to the discord screenshots, these were new to me. We were all suspicious of her potentially using an alt account on tumblr to ask as a “friend”. Because while I cannot say the same for my friends, I had online friends when I was young who pulled very similar stunts to continue to emotionally manipulate me into remaining their friend and under their thumb. I do not fuck with that sort of behavior anymore. And to note from Soy they said that they had joined their old dead DWD server and immediately dmed them. The obsessive manner of her continuing whatever game she thinks this is is a genuine concern and big alarm sounding that she needs to talk to someone. She is older than me, but I have already dealt with extremely similar people in my preteens, so it’s sad to see someone being so immature like this. (I hit the 30 post limit so the screenshots will be in the reblogs for anything missing)

responses to tumblr posts

Starting with the post that finally prompted this response, I want to cover my personal opinion of each thing mentioned. Unfortunately as you will see, I do not have proof for my own ponytown run in personally, but if you read all of the messages provided, you can probably tell who’s more truthful considering it’s a 1-0 with me having evidence and her none. You’ll notice she remains vague when she can, which is most of the time.

First we need to all heavily note that this was a supposed dream. She is her character Hannah in her dream, alongside Drake. Soy, an anon, and myself appear as “hooded people” in her dream and do an incantation on her in order to curse her to not be with Drake. I suppose this causes a curse that forces Drakepad to be real in her dream? Then we say quotes she is claiming we said. I will get to that in a moment. This is a summary so that if she deletes the post linked, you still have me explaining it. (I wrote this last night, unfortunately as of right now while I was acquiring links she did in fact delete the post. Likely because of my warning post from the other day. So she is stalking my account still.) Then her own oddly crafted happy ending where the spell is broken and she gets her ending of support.

Now I’ll cover the “quotes”

“Drakepad is the only true ship”

You will here her claim people saying this to her often. In reference to my friends, such claims have been proven false. We supported her opinion despite our own. Even comforting her and letting her know its awful for anyone to try and pressure her over such a simple difference in taste. Also adding the fact we supported her oc x canon even though she could not RP it in the old server.

“Darkwing DENIED YOU” with her claiming it is something I said to her in Ponytown.

I will go more in depth in exactly what I said in ponytown further down, but I never once said this. She insisted that my opinion was that her oc x canon was not valid. I was Negaduck in game, then I specifically swapped to my Magentus pony and stated how hypocritical it would be for me to say such a thing. Then proceeded to let her know, though I was annoyed, that it’s alright for her to not ship something she does not like, but continuing to bring up that you hate a ship to people you know don’t mind it or even ship it themselves is rude. Then she proceeded to do something I can only describe as something I am seasoned to as the son of an emotionally inmature mother. Again I will elaborate in the ponytown section.

“She gaved me PTSD by her DrakePad hate. And with her tumblr post who HURTED my friends saying we “FORCED” Drakepad on our server she lied.” Which was aparently what Soy said.

I cannot speak to how soy feels completely on this, but I know they did not develop post traumatic stress disorder from this. Nor have they said this quote if you could not guess. I believe the friend was the one in the screenshots between them and soy on discord I shared above. Again, I do not trust that these are her actual friends. This is not to say she couldn’t potentially have friends who agree with her, I just don’t trust her truthfulness especially with said discord dms. But you as the reader can make your own opinion on that. From what I was told by Soy, they joined (I believe after they realized they couldn’t do oc x canon with our Darkwing in the old server, which was his choice to make.) and asked if they could do darkwing x hannah. Soy and others kindly let her know that they were working on a drakepad relationship, but saw no problem in doing dw x lp x hannah. She accepted I think? But regardless then returned to our server to both brag about how someone finally let her, but soon ranted about how uncomfortable poly stuff made them. Some of this is word of mouth, but you can see other parts referenced back above.

“You deserve no friends.” by an anon

Again, I question the validity of this claim, but assuming someone actually said this to her this is horrible to say to someone. Back in 2020 I dealt with prosh*ppers in a problematic fandom harrasing me because I outwardly was against their adult x minor ship. Unfortunately if you know what fandom I mean. (keep guesses to yourself, I don’t want to bring it up in public.) You know it’s very popular unfortunately. I was sent death threats and people telling me how unworthy of friends, love, or anything they could throw at me. I would never say this to another nor condone saying this to another. Even if CookieRuby is in the wrong here. Everyone deserves the chance to have friends and flourish as a person. I’m angry but I’d never wish such a thing. And while I’m at it I would like to suggest to you as the reader that if you are considering doing such a thing don’t. Block her, move on. It’s not worth it. I’m only here right now to give context, then I’m done. I do not want anyone going after her. I’m just here to show my receipts, not to harrass her. I’d just prove her point if I did that. I’m not that sort of person.

And I was shown her speaking about her inferiority complex. I do not have one, so I cannot speak to how true this is, but considering this was March 2023...it seems despite her admitting this, she has obviously continued to lie about people. So I don’t know if she has that complex, but she is a chronic liar at the very least so there’s that I guess.

Ponytown run ins

The provided screenshots below are from before what I’ll be describing to you. I had to re-listen to a voice note I sent after this. It’s all I have besides the discord message of me realizing it was her. I do not want to attach it just because I keep my voice to myself most times. I’m shy gang.

Starting off I was just finishing my Magentus pony. For a while they had a color palette I had just chose myself without reference and I was finally giving them their reference colors. I was returning to the darkwing rock circle I was hoping to start a darkwing pony hangout at, when I saw a Darkwing pony approach. Now, I don’t know if this was coincidence of perhaps she knows about the hangout from my story. Considering she has alts, she probably was checking my story, but that is speculation. I immediately am eager to friend them because of their pony. But of course the first words from her are “why do you have me blocked?” my mood immediately changes as it hit me that someone had told me prior she had an account. Likely due to the incident in the other ponytown screenshots. I ask to confirm if it’s her and she says yes.

So I simply put that she cause discomfort to my friends and I and that I use the block liberally. During this I am scrambling to try and block her on ponytown too, but unfortunately my block list is too full because I have been blocking Dream SMP ponies left and right. So I decide maybe here is where I can put my foot down on things. I also mentioned a side thing about how the old server I was in had a policy about posting over people, but she seemed to focus on this more. (I do not recall if this was enforced at the time, but still it was focused on way more than the main issue I was bringing up.) I mentioned how she’d post over others. I told her that it wasn’t my main point and to forget that and move onto the main issue. I explain to her as adult as I can back to her Drakepad issue that “You were being rude to people because you could get your ship. We tried to be nice and I just blocked you because I didn’t want to deal with that [anymore].” and the only thing she got from that was me saying “rude” I suppose so she responded saying “oh so I’m the toxic one?” and boy have I heard this one get pulled on me before. It’s giving emotional manipulation. I calmly reply “That is not what I said.” I said something else that I couldn’t recall, though likely just me restating what happened, then she said “well I guess I’m sorry-” I was on a call at this time with my boyfriend while he was on break as this went down, so I began speaking to him irl. I guess I did not respond to her in time because she continued with the classic backhanded comment of “Since everyone wants me to apologize anyway” or something to that effect. It was in that way that someone who does this wants you to just accept the apology even though it was not a meaningful one. She does not have to apologize, no one is making her, but that was her attitude about it. I thought I’d just end it off there with a joke to myself so I didn’t lose it. I went “I have a mother, I can be emotionally manipulated at home, I don’t need this game from you. Bye.” and logged off. Honestly there is when it actually got personal. Somewhere in the middle she insisted what I had mentioned earlier with us hating oc x canon and drakepad and all that and that statement from earlier still follows.

I even have a later note worrying there would be a post on her tumblr, but I checked once and there was nothing so I thought maybe she had gotten over herself…..we are here now so nope. Also this was 2/2/2024 for timeline’s sake.

I was transcribing from a voice note, so if it seems like there are any holes in that ask me, I’ll try to fill in what I missed.

Misc

Lastly here are things I did not know how to organize into the rant. As well as some people making mention to their experiences with her in reply to my Instagram story. I swore I would get all I could and I meant it.

And anyways thank you to those who actually took the time to read all of this mess. I don’t know how I did drama back in the day this has truly been so exhausting to write, but it was important that I did. Honestly despite my anger this is really dumb to have to make, but I do not like being lied about. I especially don’t like my friends also being lied about. And again just block her and do not engage. I do not condone harassment of any kind. I am going to go sleep as I finish writing this. This was a tiring experience. She’ll probably continue but now I am satisfied knowing we’re all on the same page.

#jack flaps #callout post #receipts #drama tag :/#darkwing duck #ducktales #oc

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