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livinginshambles · 11 months

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Not ridiculous at all | James Potter

Pairing: James Potter x fem!Reader

Word Count: 3.5k

Summary: You are part of the marauders, always having felt special when they called you part of the gang, but also consequently too embarrassed to admit to wanting to be more feminine, afraid that they would no longer deem you cool enough to hang out with you. You are hurt by James' comments and James might realise something when you're avoiding him.

Notes: Best friend!James, he's a bit stupid, Lily is a sweet friend, arguments, so maybe a little angsty, but not really, classic cliche tropes like friends to lovers, misunderstandings, pining (I literally just dreamt this so it's a bit patchy) and I know it's very stereotypical but that's why it's just fanfiction :)

(PS) I haven't written before, just wanted to get this out of my system. English is my third language, and this fic is not proofread because I'm way too lazy for that! Enjoy!

Part two Masterlist

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You've grown up with James Potter and have been part of the marauders since the very beginning. You always took 'being one of the guys' or 'part of the gang' as a compliment, it left you feeling giddy as if you were included in some secret group that only you had the privilege of belonging to.

But sometimes you would sit in the girls dormitory and despite your friends laughing and chatting about, you would feel a wave of loneliness wash over you. They often did activities together and by now, 6th year at Hogwarts, they've managed to stop asking you to join them as you've always dutifully replied that it 'wasn't your thing'.

I mean, what would the guys think of you? It would be too embarrassing to admit to them, or anyone for that matter, that you would love to be dolled up for once. To go shopping with your friends, be included in movie nights, asked by Alice if she could test some makeup on you, or read and gossip about the new romance novels that were the new hype.

Especially now when you sat on your bed, part of the circle in which they were discussing plans to go dress shopping.

"You should absolutely join us!" Alice squealed in delight. You were shaken out of your train of thoughts with a huh and realized the conversation had taken a turn somewhere and now included you too. Marlene and Lily nodded fervently in agreement but you bashfully shook your head.

"Nah, can you imagine me in a dress?" You joked, but Dorcas caught the curious and somewhat longing look in your eyes at the mention of getting ready for the Yule ball.

"I think you would look great actually. And besides, you can treat yourself too sometime you know. You're not obligated to stick with the marauders all the time." The girls in the dorm once again all agreed and you smiled at their kindness.

"Since when are you interested in things like the Yule ball?"

You snapped your head up at James to see his questioning eyes and then quickly averted your own in a flustered manner as if one of your greatest secrets had just been uncovered. "I just think it seems nice, that's all, I'm not even going or anything", you defended. You felt slightly embarrassed by James' face which wore a weirded out expression.

"Well you're not really the type to go to such an event anyway right?", James remarked. You did your best to hide your frown at his immediate agreement. Was it that bad that you'd hoped he would say something along the lines of 'what are you talking about, go enjoy yourself at the party' or something like that?

"Besides I can't imagine you in a dress, all made up, it'd just look so ridiculous." James continued. Remus, ever the sweet and attentive boy glanced at you and noticed your slightly sacked shoulders in disappointment at his words.

"I mean you're just not that type of person, you know? Like completely opposite of Lily."

And with that your face felt like it burned from embarrassment. As if you didn't already know. That didn't mean you didn't want to be more like her sometimes.

Peter's eyes flicked with concern from James to you and back.

You felt hurt and forced yourself to stop tears welling up at his words, mustering up a grin, ready to agree with him but were interrupted by Sirius who had now also caught your change in mood.

"Prongs, you really have no tact at all, how are you expecting to even win Evans over with that?" He said in a playful manner as to not offend their whipped friend, but not fully succeeding.

"Hey! What's that supposed to mean?" James looked slightly offended and Remus jumped in the conversation.

"That's just not a nice thing to say. It's different if you call me an ugly toad, but not Y/N! If she wants to go to the Yule Ball all dolled up, she definitely should." He shot you a supportive smile which you returned.

Peter nodded in agreement. "I don't think you'd look ridiculous at all," he told you sincerely. You subtly scooted a little closer to him and Remus.

"But it's Y/N, it'd just look weird, cause she's just not a proper girl like that, no offense." James shot back and gave you a smile at the last two words.

You saw Remus opening his mouth to retort but quickly intervened. "He's right." You told them. You just wanted this conversation to be over with already. It was awkward and painful for you as it was.

James didn't seem to get the memo, however, and kept on going, drilling your confidence further into the ground.

"See, she agrees." He turned to you. "It's not like you're ugly or anything but it'd be ridiculous. Like I said, you're not the type to be all beautiful and dressed up, hair done and all. I mean you're cool, but not pretty like that." He was clearly not done yet and started talking about Lily and her beauty at which point you abruptly got up and left.

"What's gotten into her?" James remarked with a frown.

Sirius and Remus didn't even bother to answer and just stared at him in disbelief.

The girls comforted you as you cried. Marlene barged in with ice cream, stolen from the kitchen in one hand and 5 spoons in the other. "What a jerk." She commented and thrust a spoon in your hand before plopping down in front of you with the rest of your friends.

Lily sighed frustratedly. "See this is why I don't like him at all. He's so rude and arrogant, and he-"

"- is right." You answered dejectedly. "I'm your friend, but not the type to join you guys and belong to your circle."

"Well that's only because you hang around the boys all the time," Alice argued. She nudged you. "But you know what, now that James is being a git, you can hang out with us!"

Dorcas gasped dramatically. "We could do a girls night! Treat ourselves a little", she jumped up. "I'll get the face masks and nail polish!"

Lily let go of you too and told you to sit up. "Come on, let me do your hair," she smiled.

With Marlene feeding you ice cream, your nails being polished by Alice, hair done by Lily and Dorcas reading the latest romance novel out loud while you were all wearing a facemask, you couldn't help but feel all warm inside.

"I love you guys."

"Don't talk with your mouth full."

You laughed and pushed Marlene teasingly off the bed.

"Hey, watch it! I just finished your right hand." Alice complained.

James was a moron. He was kind hearted (to most), popular, captain of the Quidditch team, good looking but a moron nonetheless. So he was absolutely clueless to find you missing from the common room yesterday evening and even more clueless when you were missing from your usual spot next to him at the Gryffindor table in the great hall, because he could not for the life of him think of a reason why you would sit with Alice and Frank instead.

He frowned and felt uneasy at the fact that you hadn't even looked at him, let alone come for a hug with your smile and said 'good morning' like usual. He shook the thoughts away. You were obviously allowed to have your own friends as well and not obligated to spend all your time with him.

The door of the great hall behind him opened and Lily Evans walked in, which was why instead of walking up to you to say something, he habitually turned to Lily instead.

"You look beautiful this morning as usual. I could put in the effort to match you when we go out together?" He shot her a wink and a coy smile but faltered slightly when his attempts at flirting got even less of a reaction out of her than usual.

James turned to Sirius with a questioning look, as if to ask 'you noticed that too right?' but Sirius simply shrugged. When James looked back at Frank and Alice, you were gone, having left the moment you felt his stare.

James started to ponder. 'Were you avoiding him? Surely you wouldn't, right? You two were friends after all, childhood friends. Childhood best friends even, for Merlin's sake! If you were upset with him, you'd definitely let him know.'

A week passed with you, sitting on the opposite sides of the classroom, seemingly having picked partners long before class because how else would you team up with random students before James could even blink?

He had now fully accepted that you were avoiding him. And with that, he meant 'accepting the possibility of that occurrence'. He was by no means going to accept your strange new behavior without doing anything.

The last drop though, was when he heard the news from Peter that you'd already left for Hogsmeade with the girls.

He frowned. 'You were kind', he reasoned. If you were upset with him, then he'd have to apologize. Quickly. Because it's been far too long without his best friend and he realized he missed you. Especially seeing you hang out with others.

"What did I do?" He finally asked his remaining friends.

"Really Prongs?" Remus couldn't help but ask. His friend just gave him a look that said 'well go on then, what is it'.

"How about you think about what you said last week, you know, those rude comments about the Yule ball."

"Yeah, but I already apologized yesterday and told her that I didn't mean to offend her!" James flailed his arms around when he exclaimed it.

"But she's still only hanging out with anyone but me," he whined. "Peter studied with her, Pads got a 'good morning' this morning and you're still talking to eachother.

Remus gave him an unimpressed look at his whining but James was not done complaining yet.

"She keeps spending all her time with the girls while she doesn't even seem to be fully enjoying herself"

This was true. You dearly missed James, so despite your newfound hobbies, a look of sadness sometimes fell over your face, which hadn't escaped James' attention.

"And I just don't understand why she would-" He started but never finished, something dawning on him. "Oh of course! Merlin, I'm so stupid!" He shouted out in epiphany.

"Your words not mine," Sirius quickly took the opportunity.

"Oh bugger off Pads", James laughed and pushed Sirius' arm. And with that, he took off to find you.

Sirius and Remus watched him leave and sighed at the same time. "Do you really think he got it?"

"I bloody hope so, Moony."

"But it's James."

"Yeah, but I mean it's not my fight but even I realize that she's sad that James made fun of the idea of her being more girly when she secretly wants to be. Now she's trying out what she likes, without having to stay within the role of 'one of the guys'. I mean, it's pretty straightforward. I guess a genuine apology and show of support is the solution."

"But it's James."

"Yep, you're right."

Though he hadn't been able to find you, he'd waited patiently for your return in the common room. Staring at the ceiling from his laid back position on the couch.

"Oh there you are, Y/N," He rushed to sit up to face you when you entered the room. If you were surprised by his presence, you didn't show it.

"We need to talk, I wanted to apologize." He breathed out, relieved at himself for having figured it out. "Also, I've missed you so much."

You felt a weight fall off your shoulders. You didn't want to be upset with him and felt incredibly relieved to hear him say that.

"I'm sorry for the things I said. I didn't mean for you to get offended or anything," James began.

"Yeah, you already said that." You frowned. "And I remember I told you that that was not a proper apology."

"I know, I know. It was shitty of me so I wanted to apologize. Properly you know? I'm really really sorry. I was a terrible friend and shouldn't have said the things I said. Please forgive me?" He proceeded to give you Bambi eyes in an attempt to convince you. It unsurprisingly worked.

You softly smiled up at him. "Okay". You barely got the word out before he pulled you into a bone-crushing hug.

"Great," he said, cutting through the comfortable silence that you two had been hugging in.

"Now you don't have to avoid me anymore, and you can stop sitting with the girls to prove your point, and join us again instead." He triumphantly continued.

What now?

You blanked. "I'm sorry?" You managed to ask.

"I get that I hurt you by saying your weren't a proper girl, but you don't have to pretend to prove your point by trying to be one." James stated, proud of himself that he figured it out.

"Because I can see that you don't like it, like your face gets all gloomy which is understandable because it isn't really your circle of people."

You stared at him, an incredulous look on your face.

"Fuck you James." You said, your voice coming out softer than you'd hoped. Tears were welling up again, but you couldn't help yourself.

"Has it ever occurred to you that maybe I do want that to be my circle of people? That I don't just want to be one of the guys all the time? Is it that crazy to think that I'm still a girl with feelings? That I want to feel pretty too? That I don't like being told by my supposed best friend that I'm basically ugly? That I hate to be compared to other girls like that?"

You were ranting and James had taken a step back, surprised by your outburst.

"No, that's not what I-", James tried to salvage the situation but you weren't having it.

"You've told me that stuff for as long as I can remember and I never told you otherwise because I was scared that you'd no longer want to hang out with me for not being a 'chill friend'. But you know what, I no longer want you to."

At this point, you angrily wiped your eyes to get rid of tears that were threatening to spill. "So fuck you". With that, you brushed past him, escaping upstairs to your room.

James Fleamont Potter felt absolutely miserable.

If anyone told James that you'd ever be more on his mind than Lily, he would call them ridiculous. But here he was, another week had passed and he was staring at your back as you were leaving with your friends for Hogsmeade again.

You weren't wearing your school uniform and robes anymore and James was surprised to see you wearing one of what he knew to be Lily's dresses.

'It suited you more than it suited Lily.' The unwarranted thought flashed through his mind and he shook his head with a scoff to himself. What was going on?

James also noticed that your hair was brushed and shining with a butterfly clip holding your hair in a bun. He wondered when you decided to change your hairstyle because he found that it framed your face perfectly.

'Not ridiculous at all,' he understood.

You looked absolutely perfect.

You turned your face a little and James could feel his head reeling. Have you always been this glowing? Was he just simply missing you? He didn't even realize that he hadn't spared Lily a glance- until Sirius mentioned her while they were having a drink - and a strange feeling washed over him at the thought.

You were running from Filch.

'Fuck I shouldn't have studied after hours, curfew was probably hours ago," you cursed to yourself and took a sharp right turn. You were trying to reach the secret passage right behind the big statue on the fourth floor when you saw the hallway light up because of Filches torch.

Forcing your legs to move faster, you were suddenly grabbed by the wrist. A hand was clasped over your mouth and you felt a heavy cloth fall over you.

You recognised the person pressed to your back immediately and tried not to melt in his embrace as Filch walked straight past the two of you, covered in the invisibility cloak.

You could feel his breath against your temple. His hand had dropped from your mouth, instead draping across your stomach now to rest on your side. The other held out in front of you to create space under the cloak. You shifted a little and finally turned your head and lifted it to look at him and thank him but you were unable to say anything for a moment.

You simply admired him.

The proximity of the two of you in that intimate embrace had something fluttering in your stomach and you harshly jerked away in denial when your feelings hit you.

Oh no.

Now, all suddenly? What changed? Does it really take one random moment to flip your world upside down?

You rushed to push the invisibility cloak out of your way and then left without sparing James another glance.

James couldn't force his legs to move to run after you, still reeling from about the exact same epiphany that you'd just run away from. Your gaze, his fast beating heart and the urge he had felt to lean down for a kiss had confirmed his conflicted feelings of the past few days since he'd seen you leave for Hogsmeade.

The following morning, you'd had the chance to properly process the happenings of last night.

Your conclusion was that you felt guilty that you hadn't even expressed your gratitude. It was rude, you figured. Even if you were overwhelmed by the sudden wave of realization that came crashing down on you, it was rude.

So you pushed your confused feelings aside and marched up to him when you found him in the great hall.

"Thanks, I owe you." You awkwardly said, stopping at his spot at the Gryffindor table. All while absolutely not having forgotten about the fact that the last time you had said something to him, you'd flipped him off and told him to go fuck himself.

James was absolutely beaming. "Yeah you do, but no worries, I'll cash it in right away." This was his chance. He would make up for his behavior and act on his feelings right now.

"How about a date?"

There was a long silence. Your heart plummeted to the ground. Right. James. Lily. Lily and James.

"What am I a magician?" You finally managed to sarcastically retort. "I'm a convincing person but not a miracle worker." You pulled your hand through your hair as you looked around the great hall to see if you could spot Lily.

"Alright, I'll see what I can do." You forced a smile.

James, who had been mostly confused at your words, disregarded it completely in delight at your acceptance to go out with him, even if it seemed somewhat reluctant. Not that it would matter because he was going to prove what an amazing boyfriend he could be. If you'd accept him, of course.

He was grinning from ear to ear, which you mistook as excitement at the prospect of a potential date with Lily. So when you abruptly turned on your heels and marched over to Lily, James watched you confusedly.

And when he heard you try to talk Lily into going out with him, he wanted to crawl in a ditch and die. He stood there, frozen and recounting how you could've interpreted that wrongly.

You returned to him after a while with an apologetic smile. "Yeah sorry Prongs, she-"

"You", he blurted out.

You raised your eyebrows. "Me?" You repeated back.

"The date, I meant you. A-and me of course. Us, like you and me on a date. Together. I thought maybe Hogsmeade?" He managed to force the words out nervously.

There was a long silence and James' shoulders slumped a little. Even more when you finally answered.

"Uh, no?" You said in a questioning manner. James officially wanted to die now.

"You're sweet James, and I don't think you do it on purpose but you're not interested in me like that." You began, trying to convince not only James, but yourself as well.

James opened his mouth to argue but you quickly interrupted him before he could properly do so.

"James, you really don't. And you asking me out on a date when you've quite literally been drooling over Lily just last week as you have been doing for the past 5 years, that's not very nice to me." You frowned.

"Oh." He whispered. He was once again at a lack of words for a moment. Terrible new habit, he thought. This was not how he thought it would go.

"I'd still gladly go with you to Hogsmeade though?" You offered. "Just you know, not as an easy second choice date while you are obviously head over heels with her."

'I'm not', he wanted to tell you, but it was obvious that you wouldn't believe him. "Yeah okay," he weakly smiled. "Just the two of us though."

You nodded and stepped forward, wrapped your arms around him and he leaned into you, returning the hug.

With his face pressed in your hair, eyes closed, he decided that this situation wasn't too bad. He's fought for Lily's affection for years. He'd fight harder for yours.

Part two

#james potter x fem!reader #james potter x reader #james potter imagine #marauders era #marauders #james potter x you #james potter x y/n #james potter fluff #james potter angst #james potter fic

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twilightarc-gm · 3 months

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Why do you like jiang cheng?

At the risk of liking him for the wrong reasons, let me be verbose and annoying about it.

A short anecdote: I finished the donghua before the novel and I liked JC's aesthetic so I was happy to have that imagery in my head for the novel, but mostly I came out of the donghua like "cool story, the ending was frowny face though" and I came out of the novel like I was lost in the IKEA store "there's stuff here but it's not what I want and it's organized in a way that's hard to navigate through." Bit like giving me a puzzle to solve.

Anyway, imagine a cat bapping at a thing trying to get fandom to show me what to do with MDZS (i.e. reading fanfic) and then I come across anti-Jiang Cheng stuff.

//record scratch

I'm sorry what?

Why?

NO.

I started then on Shuangjie reconciliation fic and quickly evolved into Jiang Cheng "Apologist" ((I actually don't think he has anything to apologize for even if he would do so anyway.))

I've been in the xianxia/wuxia sphere of media consumption for a year or so before trying out MDZS and JC just fits so well as the main character of his own story; destined for a position of power through birth, friends with someone in his life that causes conflict, seemingly betrayed by said friend when needing that friend the most, losing and losing and losing as his trust in said friend proves unfounded because the friend walks a path he can't follow, and then he's left with the tragedy that befell the world because--ultimately he trusted this friend too much.

It's a classic story of love and attachment and how good intentions can have massive consequences. Two men entwined by fate and in the end there's a battle on a hill (off screen in this case) where one is forced to "kill" the other.

MDZS could have ended with the past timeline, and I would have liked it more but at least in the present timeline we get Jiujiu and a-Ling.

Anyway: Excerpts and Commentary Below about WHY I LOVE JIANG CHENG, courtesy WANYIN

Of all the clans to offend, you don’t offend the Jiang Clan, and of all the people to offend, you never offend Jiang Cheng.

We stand by a badass mf in this house. The first thing we learn is that he gets credit for killing a big baddy and the second thing we learn is how fierce the rest of his reputation is. He brooks no shit and leaves no quarter. Amazing 💜

Well, I was done for at "gaze like two streaks of cold lightning" so RIP me, I guess. Reminds me of some antis that are like "you only like him because he's hot" which isn't true but it is a nice plus. He's described as inferior to LWJ so like, if it was only about hotness then wouldn't I like LWJ???

“I am his uncle. Do you have any last words?”

At the sound of that voice, every drop of blood in Wei Wuxian’s body seemed to surge to his head but then immediately drained away again. Thankfully, his face was already a mess of ghastly white, so it didn’t look strange when he went a little paler.

A man in purple attire strode over. He was dressed in a narrow-sleeved light robe, with his hand resting on the hilt of his sword. A silver bell dangled from his waist, yet there was no sound when he walked.

This young man had fine brows and almond eyes, with a chiseled handsomeness to his features. His eyes were deep and intense with a hint of aggression, his gaze like two streaks of cold lightning. He stopped and stood three meters away from Wei Wuxian. His expression was like that of a nocked arrow on a bow, ready to shoot, and even his composure was suffused with arrogant pride.

Jiang Cheng ruled the Jiang Clan of Yunmeng alone, so it could have been said that he was in a state of isolation.

🥺 Alone?? And he could still afford 400 Immortal Binding Nets? Self-sufficient king 🤩 And like, his reputation is so fierce and he's boiling over with anger in that scene, but still he restrains himself because he did the cost-benefit analysis! And then later he takes a huge risk on WWX, like he always does for WWX, and that doesn't work out for him--like it always does.

Seeing that nothing had happened to Jin Ling, Jiang Cheng was greatly relieved. However, that relief soon turned into a furious reprimand:

Parent behavior. Enough said.

He has a twisted smile when encountering a trigger for his PTSD and then he decides to fight it instead of letting it paralyze him. He's such a doer. Like, every other moment of the day he's carefully calculating pluses and minuses to every choice (valid) but when it comes to facing his personal demons he's ready to throw down. Excellent.

A moment later, Jiang Cheng’s lips pulled into a twisted smile. His left hand subconsciously began stroking that ring once more.

He said softly, “Excellent. Back, are you?”

He let go of his left hand, and a long whip dangled from it.

“Oh? Then please enlighten me, what is your type?”

Walking A-Spec flag very concerned about what the man who might be his shixiong thinks about him, more at eleven!

Wei Wuxian waved him off and then hooked his arm around Jiang Cheng’s shoulders. “Who cares? I’ll tease him a bit more before I go. You’ve already collected my corpse so many times. Once more won’t hurt.”

Okay but big lol that JC doesn't get to collect WWX's corpse that final time. //sounds of sobbing

A smile appeared on his face, but then he immediately humphed.

He's so grumpy and adorable! I love him! pre massacre JC is precious and I just want him to have someone to bring out that smile again.

He literally didn't have to do this. He makes all these excuses how he'll be embarrassed if WWX is rolling around 😂 Perfection. Boy, you are still carrying him and he doesn't want you to stop.

Jiang Cheng, walk slower, you’re gonna throw me off.”

Not only did Jiang Cheng want to throw Wei Wuxian off, but he practically wanted to bash his head into the ground to create a human crater. “So fussy even though I’m carrying you!”

“I didn’t tell you to carry me,” Wei Wuxian reasoned.

Jiang Cheng flew into a rage. “If I didn’t carry you, I think you’d hang out at their ancestral hall all day, rolling around on the floor. I can’t afford this embarrassment! Lan Wangji took fifty more strikes than you, but he walked away on his own, and you’re not embarrassed, pretending to be an invalid? I don’t want to carry you anymore. Get the hell off!”

“No, I’m wounded,” Wei Wuxian said.

Alrighty, like I'm just going through the entire book at this point.

Let me see if I can make this more concise:

Sacrifices himself despite his very dutiful nature that would oppose this. He throws away all his responsibilities for WWX, again and again, carrying on a tradition of favoring WWX over his own health and happiness. Citing: JFM favoring WWX to the detriment of his marriage, JYL dying to save WWX, and JC (exhausted and with little or no power) running into danger to save WWX ala distracting the Wen patrol and 2nd Siege.

Can't be honest in his affections and makes up excuses to do nice things for others.

Loves and understands his sister. She wanted JZX so he made it happen when LLJ had absolutely no reason to reinstate the marriage contract between Xuanli. JGS notes in the CR arc that he didn't want the marriage for his son in the first place and that there were better options than YMJ, and that was before the war! JC helped her get to Yiling to show off her wedding dress! Even though she married out he still felt so attached to her son he couldn't not co-parent Jin Ling.

Yes, he has Zidian, but he also has a second horsewhip that he keeps on him which is very exciting to know.

The narrative hates him but he survives. (He survives because the narrative hates him).

Most BAMF entrance in the novel at the temple scene with the busting the temple doors down and coming in from the rain with an umbrella. Like sure the narrative hates him but small blessings that rule of cool still counts for something.

Mama's boy.

Just some dude, shows up late to treasury room nonsense, knows all the gossip, no one has faith in him including himself, but he keeps going and doing what needs to be done even when he's so so tired and his shixiong shows up 3 months late with a ghoul lady and a latte, or disappears to liberate slave property without warning first and now he's called into a midnight meeting after trying to get some much needed rest and now he's got consequences to deal with. Someone help him!

An expert at sneering. Threats as a show of worry and care. This makes all the little and brief smiles so much more endearing.

Sandu Shengshou is an amazing title, get out of here if you don't agree. Holy Hand of the Three Poisons? Brutal, perfect 💜 It gets used like, ONCE. Crime against me personally.

Link to Blorbo Sheet for JC

He loves, he hates, he wants to hate he's not allowed to love. Zero middle ground, he's all in and there's no way out.

//is shot and dragged off stage

But just as the Wei Wuxian of the past who’d extracted his golden core for Jiang Cheng had been unable to tell him the truth, the Jiang Cheng of the present could no longer bring himself to speak up.

#jiang cheng #canon jiang cheng #asks answered #twi posts #yunmeng shuangjie #quotes

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ghostiequill · 1 month

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Mihawk x Librarian Part 2

Since some people requested it (AHHH oh my gosh thank you for all the love <3) here's a part two :3

You’ve learned overtime how exceedingly romantic Dracule Mihawk can be

He would place his heart into your hands and do the embarrassing couple things without flinching. You want matching bright pink keychains? Sure, he’ll even buy them for you. You want to feed him in public? His eyes linger on you as he slowly takes the spoon in his mouth.

Mihawk made sure to show off in subtle ways, his dexterity in sword fighting transferred to gracefulness when he decided that right then was the perfect time to dance to the old record in your shop after hours. He would subtly show off his muscles when you helped restock large boxes of stock, knowing you secretly admired his strength

Just because he showed off doesn’t mean he couldn’t be a gentleman. Constantly opening doors for you or offering protection in the form of an arm ghosting on the small of your back when you were out wandering the town.

He would collect little knick knacks for you every time he came to visit. Something small but it warmed your heart to think you were on his mind so much that he thought of you when he saw these objects as you thought of him when you saw them in your shop

He would send you letters, completely unnecessary when he had your number but Mihawk was an old fashioned lover. They would always start with “To my (your name)” a sense of possessiveness, but they would always end with “yours, Dracule Mihawk”. They would be about his daily life, obviously avoiding the more violent parts, but would wax poetic about the serene view of the sea or the bustling islands he visited that he would wish for you to be there with him

That didn’t mean he didn’t love teasing you as well

Moments where he would touch your back were met with your face turning to fire, he would notice and you could barely make out a smirk. Every time his touch would linger when he would hand you something he would insist to get for you or when he would compliment your abilities, whether it be bookkeeping or a particular idea he hadn't thought about before in a book just to see you stutter and smile

You loved to talk books with him. He was shockingly insightful to the depth of the shitty romance novels that only he and you seemed to see. You would both talk for hours about the deep connection between characters and the subtle exchanges between them that would make you go insane. It reminded you of someone else in real life.

“So, did you finally finish that book I recommended? You’ve only had it for forever” you whined to him

“Oh yes sorry, I was too busy actually doing my job unlike those who just read at theirs” you could almost see his amused face on the other line

You met with his ward when he would bring you to his castle for an at home dinner date. Perona would always try to steal you away to dress you up or gossip but Mihawk was always there to make sure you weren’t overwhelmed. With just a glance in his direction your eyes could communicate what you felt

The best part of being at his castle was when after supper he would gently grasp your hand and lead you into the forest. The gentle sounds of owls hooting and crickets chirping serenaded your walk to the clearing he always brought you to to gaze at the stars. Laying down a blanket and guiding your hand to lay down, he would point out the constellations and their stories to you, waxing poetic about stories of lovers who couldn’t bear to be apart, forever entwined in the embrace of the sky. You couldn’t help but imagine what that all consuming love would feel like

Mihawk was not one to give his heart lightly, which is why you felt so special to be in this moment with him. It was during one of these moments where you were both sitting up, gazing at the universe laid out before you when you turned towards Mihawk. He was already looking at you. With your previous partners you’ve never seen such softness and devotion, but with him-he made you feel like you were floating amongst the stars, the air sucked from your lungs as the background disappeared from your view.

He glanced down at your lips before slowly bringing a calloused hand to your jaw, a hand that could bring such destruction and death but was always so careful around you. You couldn't help but lean into its warmth.

His thumb brushed over your bottom lip. “May I?” he whispered, his voice barely audible against the drumming of your own heart. You somehow managed to gain back control of your body as you nodded furiously, before you could mentally curse yourself for looking so eager, as his lips meet yours. You feel a spark of electricity as your lips connect. It was like lightning had struck you. All powerful and all consuming. Your eyes widen before they close as you lean in closer, trying to meld your bodies into one.

His lips brush your forehead before he pulls away, his touch confident but gentle as he holds both your jaw and your heart in his hands. Beneath the canopy of the stars, he envelops you in his arms and it feels like every thought, every worry disappeared as long as you were with him

#one piece #dracule mihawk #dracule mihawk x reader #mihawk x reader #one piece x reader #one piece fanfiction #mihawk x y/n #mihawk x you #one piece x you #op x reader #opla x reader #opla mihawk

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jymwahuwu · 1 year

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Hii! Ok so, how would Tighnari and Cyno react to darling being depressed? And I mean, she was depressed before, but now its worse.

How would they react to see darling in a state where she cant get hernself to eat, and struggles to even brush her teeth?

What would they do to make her feel better?

Also, ik Tighnari wats a BIG family, but, would he really risk darling's depression get even worse by getting her pregant? (After pregancy or during the pregancy, a lot of women end up suffering from depression)

Also, just imagine them react to her having a very bad estime asswell witch lead to the first state of depression before abduction (after abduction it got worse) bc of the toxic people she has been surrounded, and cannot bring hernself to look in the mirror?

Ok, idk if ur gonna accept to do this, but I was just trying to make mynself relate to the reader 😅

Anyways, thank you for reading my request and if u dont want to do it, its fine, dw! (Again, excuse my bad english)

TW: yandere, kidnapping, mentioned pregnancy, depressed reader

Tighnari and Cyno see you sinking so depressed that they start looking for any way to make you feel better. This isn't the first time they've comforted the family, and Collei has given them a little experience.

You chew the bread a few times, letting out soft whimpers and sniffles occasionally, and then burst into tears, tears falling into the bread, the salty taste melting on your tongue. They think you're rebellious and tell you to finish your meals in a firmer tone.

"I-I can't." You said.

Cyno: "What? Why? It's just a piece of bread, listen to me, take a few bites."

Tighnari: "Are you sure you don't want that bit of nutrition? Eat it, don't make me say it again."

You are so powerless in your current situation that you suspect this is your punishment - why did the Forest Rangers/General Mahamatra lock you up? Why is he acting like he loves you? Love is locking that person up against their will?

They didn't investigate your mental health before this. This is really unexpected. Poor thing, you can't even do simple things like dressing yourself and brushing your teeth by yourself now. They'll do this for you and even shower you. It's kind of satisfying and guilt-ridden for them - you're like a little pigeon eating in their hands. It would be too cruel to put you in a cage like this.

They bring you any gift you want, almost allow you to get anything you can buy with mora, bring you Fontaine's popular magazine, Inazuma's light novel. They read you some funny joke or content. You can even go out as much as you want! As long as you end up returning within a day, they won't ask you to explain or capture you.

They can't be there for you 24/7. In their absence, they are viscerally uncomfortable at the thought that you might sob. So! They allow you to have some pets, what do you want? cat? dog? bird? little sheep? fish? Crystalflies? Tighnari will teach you how to take care of them. He brought Karkata over here. Sometimes you will see that adorable mechanical crab make coffee and cover you with quilts! Cyno, studies methods with you. He will call himself dad and the pets are the kids.

As for getting pregnant…if they find out you're in this state, they won't even try. Even if there is no big family to leave a little regret, but it's okay. Love is the most important thing in the family. They have to take care of you.

#alani.answers #yandere cyno #yandere tighnari #cyno x you #yandere tighnari x reader #cyno x reader #yandere genshin impact #genshin tighnari x reader #genshin impact smut #genshin impact x reader #yandere genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader

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oliversrarebooks · 2 months

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The Rare Bookseller Part 47: The Maestro's Diversion

Prev > Masterlist > Next

September 1925

TW: mind control, body control, captivity, kidnapping

Despite Alexander's attempt at soothing him, Oliver felt himself growing more and more anxious as the ballet continued. As much as he tried to focus on the dance, but now that he knew about the strange man's identity, he couldn't help but sneak glances over at him and fret.

Objectively, he didn't look that dangerous - a very slight older man with a sharp gaze -- but there was a certain something dreadful about him that Oliver could sense from across the theater. Or perhaps it was just his imagination, borne of the fact that Alexander was still very much on edge.

The ballet itself did not calm his nerves either. The dancing was growing more and more feverish and abstract, the costumes wilder, with bright red beads and ribbons that seemed to signify wounds. The climax was what appeared to be a human sacrifice, where the prima ballerina danced upon an altar, red ribbons tied around her hands and feet and neck, finally collapsing among raucous, atonal music.

Oliver's anxiety was reaching a fever pitch as the ballet came to a close. He clapped politely as the dancers took their bows, glancing over at the strange man.

He was clapping, but he wasn't looking at the stage any more. No, his eyes were trained directly on Oliver. They locked gazes, and Oliver felt a chill run down his spine.

"We will wait until most of the audience has cleared out," said his master. "Then we'll go attend to my master in his box. We may be in luck. He may be in an unusually pleasant mood."

Oliver had no idea how that icy gaze could count to Alexander as "unusually pleasant." "Must we meet him?"

Alexander didn't answer.

"Couldn't we just... leave?"

"No."

Oliver had never imagined he could feel so much dread simply watching men in tuxedos and women in fancy evening dress chatter and mingle as they made their way to the exits. His hands hurt, and he realized that he was gripping the arms of the chair so hard that they were making imprints. Alexander said nothing, stoically staring down at the empty stage.

Alexander was being so terse, so stiff, so unlike his normal self. But Oliver, of course, had no choice but to follow, no matter how badly he wanted to dig in his heels and not go. He feared that any struggle right now would not be met with Alexander's gentle spell correcting him, but with something far worse.

They made their way around the theater in silence, entering the box and entering the presence of Alexander's sire.

He looked upon Alexander with harsh judgement in his eyes, which Alexander took stoically, and then he looked upon Oliver with...

It was something like approval, perhaps even the ghost of a smile, and it was somehow even worse than his look of disdain.

"Good evening, sire," said his master with a practiced bow. "Was the ballet to your liking?"

"It was passable," the Maestro said, his voice like a musical instrument from another place and time. "While far from perfection, the bold direction was at least more interesting than what usually passes for art in this city. Unusually, I find myself craving the new more and more these days." He was staring at Oliver, not Alexander, as he said this.

"It seems as though you've spent the last few seasons confined to your chambers, sire," said Alexander, with measured words. "That may account for your desire for novelty."

"...A fair observation, child," he said. "Let's speak more of the new and novel, then. This must be your recently acquired thrall, young Oliver, is it not? I've heard that there was quite a stir at the auction house."

"He has very fine blood, sire, as you no doubt can tell. He is naturally docile and obedient, and has great potential."

The Maestro nodded slowly as he looked Oliver up and down. "Come, Oliver. Kneel."

Oliver's breath caught as he felt the tug on his body, puppet strings entangling his arms and legs, as he stepped forward. He remembered his master's words, and had been bracing himself for this, willing himself to relax and stay calm. Oliver would be unharmed, Alexander thought, as long as he behaved. So he didn't resist as his body fell to its knees before the Maestro, his posture straight, his hands clasped in his lap, his head tilted slightly downward, demure.

Alexander's sire took him by the chin and brought his face upwards, his fingers delicate and cold. He examined Oliver as though he were a specimen under glass, searching every inch of him for something that Oliver didn't understand. Oliver could feel the control wrapped around him, as though his very heart was forced to beat in time with the Maestro's whims.

"You've made an appropriate choice for once, Alexander," said the Maestro after what seemed like an eternity. "This is a fine acquisition, and you were quite right to not let him fall into the hands of the likes of Jameson. Well done, child."

Alexander looked every bit as surprised as Oliver felt. "Thank you, sire."

"In fact, I find myself inspired for a new acquisition of my own. As you've correctly observed, existence has become ever so dreary, and I need a new diversion." He leaned back in his seat. "Which is why you're going to pluck the prima ballerina from her perch."

Oliver nearly choked on his breath as Alexander's eyes went even wider. "The ballerina from this show, sire?" he said in a strained tone. "I don't mean to question you, but are you absolutely sure? She's well known and her absence will certainly be noticed."

"Of course. Don't take me for a fool by stating the obvious." His glare was boring a hole into Alexander. "It doesn't matter how well known she is. Once she's in my grasp, she will not be found."

"Yes, sire. My apologies."

"You must fetch her for me. Your power is much gentler than mine, befitting a lovely flower. Bring her here, so that she may dance for me and only me."

Oliver couldn't help his gaze flitting over to his master, who seemed to be struggling to keep his composure. Was he actually going to do it? Simply kidnap the ballerina, on his sire's orders?

"As you wish, sire," he said, meekly. "Oliver, come along."

"No, that won't be necessary," said the Maestro, laying his hand on top of Oliver's head before he could stand up. "I will be content to watch over your thrall while you take care of business."

The hand on his head felt oppressive, and Oliver fought down the urge to beg his master not to leave him here, alone with his sire -- to not steal away a dancer with a bright future and plunge her into a nightmare. But he could already tell from the look on his master's face that he was going to follow his sire's wishes.

"Thank you for watching over him, sire. I will return with your new thrall."

With that, his master left the box, and Oliver was left alone with his master's sire, whose full focus had turned back to him. The Maestro ran his hand through Oliver's hair, and then tilted his head up to look at him once more.

"Hm, yes, a precious find indeed," he said, more to himself than to Oliver. "You will answer my questions truthfully, child. Do you fear me?"

The correct answer, Oliver thought, was to tell the Maestro that he did not fear him, that he was always happy to serve a vampire. But Alexander had warned him so strictly about being honest... "Yes, sir."

"Good. You're correct to do so," he said, apparently satisfied. "What do you fear from me?"

That question was far more complex, a half million nightmare scenarios crowding Oliver's mind at once. "Many things, sir," he said. "Primarily that I'm aware that you have the power to harm me at any time, in any way you wish. I hope you will be merciful, sir."

"Merciful, hm." He seemed as though he were considering an idea he'd never heard of before, and Oliver worried he'd overstepped. "Well, you have been honest so far, so I will be honest with you, child. If you continue to be as truthful and obedient as you are now, I will have no reason to do you harm tonight."

"Thank you, sir," said Oliver, not feeling all that reassured. He felt the control over his body loosen, but before he could move, he realized what the meaning of this was when combined with his previous words -- this was a test, an obvious one at that. He steadfastly remained in the position the Maestro had placed him, trying to keep his posture straight.

"Perhaps I'm in a rare good mood from the fine night air and a half-decent ballet, but I find myself enjoying you, child. Do not take this as an invitation to be bold," he said in his musical voice. "Tell me, do you like being enthralled by my Alexander?"

Although his feelings on this were somewhat complicated, the first response that came to mind was both safe and sufficiently honest. "Yes, sir, I like it very much."

"Does he treat you well?" the Maestro intoned.

"Yes, sir," said Oliver with uncertainty, increasingly worried about this line of questioning. "I want for nothing, and the feedings are gentle and pleasant."

"I see. And does he afford you a great deal of freedom?"

So that's where this was leading. He was trying to get Oliver to admit to his master's soft treatment of him, no doubt so his master could be scolded or punished. His instinct was to protect Alexander -- to tell the Maestro that Alexander was very strict and kept him on a tight leash.

But Alexander had been adamant that Oliver must be honest, and he felt sick at the idea of disobeying a direct order from his master. "He offers me some freedoms, but not others, sir."

"Elaborate. What freedoms do you have?"

"I am not allowed to leave his manor, sir, but I am allowed to inhabit any part of it, except for my master's private chambers. When I am not feeding or waiting on my master, I am given free time to do what I wish." His heart thumped. He knew that was the wrong answer. He fought to keep himself in position, and felt the claws of control tightening around him again.

The Maestro's gaze drilled into his soul. "That is disappointing, but wholly unsurprising," he said after a long, tense minute. "Interestingly, that's the first time I've felt any sort of resistance against my control. You're otherwise obeying perfectly. Why choose that moment to struggle?"

"I want to be honest, as you ordered, sir, but I also don't want to say anything that could bring down punishment upon my master."

"Loyalty, then. An instinct to protect your master. Despite his continued shortcomings, he seems to have done a passable job when it came to enthralling you, especially compared to previous thralls," he said. "That's also my sweet Lily's work. I could sense it in you from the moment you opened your mouth. Obedient, loyal, but with too many thoughts in your head, as is her preference. Unfortunate, really." He gave Oliver a long look. "I suppose it can't be helped. For once my wayward children have brought me something worthwhile. You can always be perfected in time."

Oliver's heart filled with dread. "...Thank you, sir," he said, not knowing what else to say to that.

Before the awkward interaction could continue, Oliver heard a gorgeous, ethereal voice coming from outside of the box. He breathed it in deep, and it filled his mind with a sensation like morning fog, dampening the racing thoughts that the Maestro had criticized. The melody was beckoning him, wrapping around his limbs, enticing him to stand and follow.

Alexander. His master had returned. Follow me, follow me, he sang, a vampiric pied piper.

The pull of his song was strong enough that his master's previous command to obey the Maestro and not resist was completely overridden. He would have sleepwalked to Alexander's side in a heartbeat if it weren't for the Maestro's control preventing him, weighing down his body even as his heart yearned, and Oliver felt that he might be torn in two if this continued.

The struggle was ended when Alexander entered the box and bowed to his sire. Behind him was a young woman, thin but athletic, wearing a simple house dress that contrasted sharply with her dramatic stage makeup and the elaborate hairdo that was halfway to falling down.

It was, of course, the prima ballerina, who had apparently been ensorcelled in her dressing room, just after changing out of her elaborate costume. Her eyes were so far away, so dreamy, as she walked gracefully, a soft smile on her lips.

Oliver's heart sank. He knew from experience how hard it was to escape Alexander's power -- and even worse, she was being given over to the Maestro's thrall. She might never see the stage again, never dance for an audience, never see her family or friends, never laugh and talk with her fellow dancers after a rehearsal. She was to be locked away like a doll in a music box, rotating slowly on command, and she most likely didn't even realize her fate yet.

The Maestro rose from his seat and wordlessly examined her as he had done to Oliver. Alexander was still humming something under his breath, something intended to keep the ballerina calm, and Oliver let the spell soften his thoughts as well, all too eager to dissociate from this scene.

He watched as, with the slightest change in expression and quirk of an eyebrow, the ballerina struck one pose, then another. She was nearly up on her toes despite wearing slippers and not proper shoes, twirling so slowly, and although her face maintained a placid expression, there was fear in her eyes, now.

"Acceptable," the Maestro murmured, as she turned and assumed a different pose. "This will do for a diversion this winter, I think. Well done once more, Alexander."

"Thank you, sire."

"It's been a long time since I've come calling, hasn't it? I do believe I have the evening after next free. I trust I'll be offered quality refreshments?" He gazed at Oliver meaningfully, as the meaning of his words penetrated through the fog.

This strange, distressing vampire wanted to drink from him. Surely his master wouldn't allow that. Surely he was only for Alexander.

"...Very well, sir," said Alexander through gritted teeth. "You're welcome at my manor at any time, of course."

"Excellent. You're dismissed, then. Take your sweet Oliver home, and I'll take my new prize." He picked the ballerina up as effortlessly as he might a kitten, and she lay unmoving in his grasp.

"Good night, sire."

"Good night, child."

Prev > Masterlist > Next

Well, this went well.

Next week, Fitz has a plan.

@d-cs @latenightcupsofcoffee @thecyrulik @dismemberment-on-a-tuesday-night @wanderinggoblin @whumpyourdamnpears @only-shadows-dwell-where-we-are @pressedpenn @pigeonwhumps @amusedmuralist @xx-adam-xx @ivycloak @irregular-book @whumpsoda @mj-or-say10 @pokemaniacgemini @sowhumpshaped @whumpsday @morning-star-whump @shinyotachi @silly-scroimblo-skrunkl @steh-lar-uh-nuhs @pirefyrelight @theauthorintraining @whump-me-all-night-long @anonfromcanada @typewrittenfangs @tessellated-sunl1ght @cleverinsidejoke @abirbable @ichorousambrosia @a-formless-entity @gobbo-king @writinggremlin @the-agency-archives @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi @enigmawriteswhump @foresttheblep @bottlecapreader @whump-on-a-string @whumpinthepot @cinnamoncandycanes @avvail-whumps @tauntedoctopuses @secret-vampkissers-soiree @whatamidoingherehelpme @strawbearydreams @ghost-whump

#whump #whump writing #vampire whump #mind control #body control #vampire whumper #ballet whump #rare bookseller #alexander #oliver #maestro

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dduane · 1 year

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BTW… re: Smut

... off my comment to this post the other day...

I'm an entertainer. Writing's a form of entertainment. (And not just for the readership: for me, too.) To be aroused by art one's experienced is (almost by definition) to be entertained, I'd say. If someone's jerking off to my erotica, then all I can do is lean back in the typing chair, smile a bit, and think, Good! I got the job done. :)

(...with the tags: #and no I'm not going to let on where the smut is#why would i deny anyone the delights of the search#and of being repeatedly mistaken#while possibly finding smut writers who're better at it than i am#:) ...)

...and then noting (with affectionate amusement) some responses:

Well, troops, better get busy filling in that bingo box. 😄

Also: I have to say (while stressing that I absolutely appreciate the humor behind "shocked, shocked, scandalized...") that the dissonance is, temporally speaking, a bit ill-founded. Because while I may be best known for the Young Wizards works these days... by no means did they come first. This did.

A soft chuckle in the darkness. “Lorn, remember that first time we shared at your place?” “That was a long time ago.” “It seems that way.” “—and my father yelled up the stairs, ‘What are you dooooooooing?’ “—and you yelled back, ‘We’re fuckinnnnnnnnnnng!’” “—and it was quiet for so long—” “—and then he started laughing—” “Yeah.”

Granted, from the here-and-now POV of readers with access to the hot-'n'-spicy shipfic or PWP on AO3, this sort of thing (and the numerous other lights-often-off or dialogue-only sexytiems passages in the traditionally published Middle Kingdoms works) would be seen as pretty small beer: soft, non-edgy stuff. Yet in 1979 apparently there were those who found the sex and sexualities on display in The Door Into Fire arresting enough that the book got me nominated for the Astounding Award (for best new author in the field) two years in a row.

There's no question that the broadly inclusive tone set by the Middle Kingdoms books went on to affect and underlie the YW universe in very basic ways. (There've been some scholarly works written by academics who've picked up on this, so [much to my relief] this perception hasn't been just me imagining it.) But I'll grant you that those who don't know the MK novels wouldn't be in a position to make the connection. (shrug) This is just one of those things that comes of having a lot of fragmented readerships who don't know about each other... a side effect of having done a lot of different things during a career. I can also understand how not knowing about the MK works could leave people who know me only, or primarily, as someone writing for a younger readership, a little bit disoriented (or maybe concerned) when the issue of me writing openly sexual material rears its head. But that wouldn’t be a change of direction. It’d be, to some extent, more a return to form.

Anyway: I consider erotica—and its more casually-dressed (or undressed...) cousin, smut—to be perfectly legit forms of literary expression; ones that can soar to unexpected heights if you're willing to put in the work. The sexy-stuff-writing muscle requires periodic exercise if it's to remain viable and/or useful. So I exercise it. And being a 70-year-old person who sometimes creaks audibly when she walks has done absolutely nothing to decrease my interest in the subject—the brain being, after all, the biggest sex organ, and the one least vulnerable to the depredations of time. If anything, nearly fifty years of experience (and three and a half decades of marriage to @petermorwood) have added... let's just say nuance. 😏

Now this whole concept will doubtless horrify some of the "Eww, You're Too Old To Be Writing This Kind Of Thing, Go Get A (Home) Life" types. To which all I can say is, "...Well, good!" By and large, such folks are not my readers anyway. And as for any of them who are, and can't deal…? They need to understand that (pointing off to one side) those people over there—the various kinda-straight and pansexual and bisexual humans, and the gender-fluid fire elemental, and the otherly-gendered Dragon, and the mostly-gay ones enthusiastically shouting "We're fuckinnnng!" down the stairs—are Nita's and Kit's godparents. Without the members of that extremely mixed marriage and their increasingly extended family, there might be no Young Wizards series... not least because it was the splash made by the first of the Middle Kingdoms books that got the Errantryverse crowd in through a major publisher's door. And the series’s continued (modest but still noticeable) success through the second and third volumes kept the writing of new YW books going for a good long while.

...So. For those who may have had questions: HTH. 😀

(And now back to the unending search for a more graceful synonym for “testicles”.)

#Young Wizards #Middle Kingdoms #writing young adult fiction #writing adult fiction #writing adults-ONLY fiction #all sisters under the skin

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see-arcane · 1 year

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Today’s entry is one of many that really drives home why I can never quite bring myself to get into softer ‘uwu he’s just misunderstood and sexy-liberating’ versions of Dracula. Just. I can’t. I really really can’t.

Up to this point, he’s already had a monstrous moment in bringing the ladies their first on-screen kids meal crying and squirming in its sack. He’s had outright predatory back-to-back moments in imprisoning, coercing, robbing, and getting increasingly threatening and handsy with Jonathan. This, capped with the fact that he plans to kill/drink/gift him to the Undead Girl Gang by the end of June.

‘But what about his, “I too can love,” huh? He’s just loving as best a monster can! He could be tearing everyone around him to ribbons for annoying him, Brides and Jonathan included! Instead he goes out of his way to feed the ladies, albeit gruesomely, and has no retort when they laugh at and insult the lonely old bat. And he isn’t planning to kill Jonathan. He wants to keep him! Sure, it’s a sick version of it, but to him conscripting and collecting Jonathan rather than executing him outright is the height of affection! Surely that’s grounds for some of the more ~romantic~ takes in warped gothic flavor?’

To an extent, yeah.

But he also just dressed up in Jonathan’s stolen clothes to cover up for the man’s own abduction, imprisonment, and undeadifying, while also increasing the odds of Jonathan already getting mistaken for a vampire, bringing home another child for the ladies to devour, and then ordered a pack of wolves to eat a grieving mother alive for making noise at his gate.

And this? This is just the tip of the iceberg for how downright hellish he gets as the novel progresses.

Dracula can absolutely be a nuanced character within canon, offshoots, retellings, re-imaginings, and so on. And he should be! He’s a very interesting bastard who’s got so much more going on than a few one-liners and a taste for good cloaks and yummy company. But his actual actions in the book--even the smallest ones--just automatically torpedo 90% of my audience enjoyment when I run into yet another ‘Oh, but he did it all because he was in love!/misunderstood!/depressed!/unfairly maligned by the eeevil human Victorian characters in their journals and newsprint and body count records!’ version of the Count.

Even sillier takes that try to heroify him for kids like Hotel Transylvania just kind of make my brain trip and fall into a pit of ???

‘Look kids, Dracula is really a nice guy and a sweet dad who runs a fun little hotel for his misunderstood Universal Horror monster buddies! Isn’t he neat?’

It leaves me biting my tongue and holding this mental grimace as I think about the sacks full of weeping children, the slaughtered mother, a young man imprisoned for making the mistake of endearing himself so much to a sadistic monster that the latter has decided to keep him as a tortured toy and undead pseudo-slave for eternity, with an entire blood buffet of human cattle still waiting to fill out the rest of the novel with trauma, horror, and death.

‘Ohhh, but look at Francis’ tragique sweetheart version who stole all his redeeming qualities from Jonathan Harker! Ohhh, but look at the funny silly Adam Sandler cartoon and his new everyman-settling daughter! Ohhh, but look at how #cool and modern-sexyedgy an antihero/villain he is when penned by every projecting director and their grandmother! Lighten up, it’s just a different interpretation!*’

*Of the character whose whole deal is psychological torture, being a predatory creep, casual murder, and worse-than-murder of innocents.

I know it skews me towards being a whiny purist. I know. Let folks have fun. I know. But still, it feels so wrong every time I see someone try to ‘awww, he’s not so bad!’-ify him in new media when. No. He is exactly that bad and probably worse. If he’s not, then that’s not fucking Dracula.

tl;dr: Can people just make some new fun/sexy/antihero vampires instead of stapling Dracula’s name on all of them? Can Dracula just be an interesting villainous monster again?? Please??? (Please save me Renfield 2023 and The Last Voyage of the Demeter, you’re my only ho--)

#ranting and whining this morning #dracula #re: dracula #dracula daily #jonathan harker #adaptation #bastardization

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upon-a-starry-night · 6 months

Text

Number Neighbors Part 12

Natasha Romanoff x Fem! Reader

Natasha Masterlist Series Masterlist

Word Count: 2k

Summary: When you catch sight of the newest trend going around you know you’re all but bound to at least try it, it was harmless anyway. What could possibly stem from something so little?

----

You wouldn’t call yourself a totally hopeless romantic, but when Leon showed up at your door dressed to the T, holding roses, and asking you out with a charming smirk you nearly swooned.

You placed the flowers in a vase on your kitchen counter where they would probably stay long after they wilted. You took note of how long it even took you to find an actual vase in your place, not to mention how dusty it was.

Modern ‘dating’ has drowned out so much romance these days.

It had been so long since you went on a date you forgot how nice it felt to get out of the house with other people, how nice it felt to be the center of someone's attention and admiration. You wouldn’t say you craved it necessarily but you definitely lacked a lot of social interaction. Not to mention you were 100% touch-starved.

Leon picked you up and took you out to see a movie, it was an unconventional first date but you didn’t mind. Especially not when he held your hand and bought you expensive movie theater snacks. It was cute and simple. It wasn’t like you were expecting a whole lot.

On the way there the two of you got to know each other better, you found out his mother had died 4 years ago and that he had been helping his dad with the restaurant ever since.

You felt so much respect for him that he’d stuck by his father to help him.

The two of you played 20 questions for most of the car ride, learning simple things about each other like favorite movies, preferred colors, and biggest dreams

It eased a lot of the anxiety you’d been feeling since he picked you up.

Thankfully he didn’t seem to notice how nervous you were and if your palms were sweaty in his, he never commented on it.

The movie was a comedy that you enjoyed, although you kept getting distracted by Leon playfully stealing your popcorn.

You were so used to doing things by yourself that you forgot how fun simple things were with other people.

You really should try to make more friends.

Your train of thought drifted to Nat a lot of times throughout the night. For some reason, you kept wondering if she would enjoy doing things like this with you. You let yourself indulge in your fantasy for a moment, pretending that Leon was Nat and that you two were meeting up for the first time but not the last time. It wasn’t a bad date but you found it felt better when you imagined Nat there.

You felt less nervous.

It almost got to the point where a joke was made in the movie about spies and you turned to laugh with Nat about the inside joke, only to find Leon with his eyes trained on the screen.

You were the only one in the theater who had laughed.

You shook the thoughts out of your head. Here Leon was treating you to a nice movie and you’re thinking about someone else.

The rest of the date you tried to focus on Leon and the movie but now there was a distinct feeling of something missing.

You hated how easily Nat could take over your brain lately, and how much hope and happiness you got from imagining her with you everywhere.

It was becoming a problem so much that you really did begin taking her with you everywhere.

When you went to the grocery store there she was telling you sassily that you should eat more than frozen pizza and chicken nuggets.

(An argument you’d had over text many times)

When you went to the library she was there telling you to pick out books other than romance novels

Everywhere you went she was there commenting on things

Always faceless but wearing that same red t-shirt from the photo she sent you.

You didn’t realize just how much she had begun to infiltrate your life until now.

In a way, it comforted you.

If you couldn’t have the real thing then maybe you could live with Imaginary Nat.

When Leon dropped you off at your apartment you kissed him on the cheek and entered your apartment with a smiling face, immediately opening your phone to text Nat about the whole ordeal. She was quick to text back, she had been more responsive since your break from each other.

And sassier than ever as well

Nat🔪:

A Movie? Really?

Y/n🍦:

Shut up it was cute

He held my hand and bought me popcorn

Nat🔪:

Wow.

I’m teeming with jealousy.

Y/n🍦:

It was a first date

Nothing's perfect on a first date.

Nat🔪:

Whoever told you that was a liar.

C’mon, you can’t be serious about that…

Y/n🍦:

I don’t think I’ve ever had a perfect first date

Nat🔪:

Then you’ve been with all the wrong people Y/n.

Y/n🍦:

Where would you take someone on a first date?

She took a while to type, the three dots appearing and disappearing numerous times. You took the spare time to get ready for bed and change into your pajamas. You hopped into bed, reveling in the warmth that the covers brought you.

Nat🔪:

Depends on the person

Y/n🍦:

Did you take all that time to type that?

What were you thinking before you pressed backspace?

Nat🔪:

Well a date idea for you - based on what you’ve

told me about yourself-

Probably a rooftop picnic.

Y/n🍦:

Oh?

You hadn’t been on a picnic in a long time. Going on one did sound nice actually…

Nat🔪:

Since you never get out of the house

Y/n🍦:

Hey! I get out enough!

Nat🔪:

Maybe I’d bring a game or some paints,

You can learn a lot about someone by what they

Paint on a first date.

Then I’d probably want to walk around

with you for a bit just to listen to you talk.

Then I’d take you out stargazing. You seem like the type.

Hypothetically, of course.

You threw your phone onto your bed and turned to scream into your pillow. It really was not fair how suave Nat could be sometimes. And how were you supposed to gush about your date when she just made up a much better hypothetical date? You were pretty sure you were blushing more at her idea than you had all night with Leon.

Y/n🍦:

Hypothetically you’re right.

That sounds like a dream

Are you speaking from experience?

You were trying to prepare yourself for if the answer was yes, you had to admit you’d be pretty jealous of whoever got that date. Although you think you’d probably be jealous of anyone going out with Nat, she seems like the type of person to treat her partner right.

You tried not to let your brain go down that path.

Nat🔪:

All of that was specific to you, Y/n.

I wouldn’t do that with anyone else

Screw it, all of your apprehension went out of the window. What were you supposed to say to that?

You immediately began imagining the date Nat described, your favorite foods sprawled across a stereotypical red and white blanket as you looked over the city. Walking around Central Park for hours, finally talking to Nat in person and hearing what her laugh sounded like. Driving away from central New York to the outskirts of town where you can see a million stars. It all sounded like the perfect day.

And when you tried to imagine it with Leon or anyone else it just didn’t feel quite right.

But you would never get that with her.

So even though it made your heart flutter and your stomach flip you pushed out the thoughts of you and Nat together.

Even if you really wanted to be.

Shit, You were so in over your head.

~~~

Normally showers were your happy place but You’d practically freaked out when Leon told you your next date would be at a fancy expensive restaurant down the street. You’d passed by it so many times and wondered what the inside looked like but you never thought you’d actually eat there. It made you exponentially nervous.

The types of people you saw going in there were nothing like you.

And if you were honest, you weren’t sure you wanted to be anything like them.

But Leon was treating you and it was such a classic date idea, especially in the movies.

You couldn’t just say no.

Briefly, you wondered if Nat was the kind of person to enjoy expensive restaurants. The thought of her sparked an idea in your head:

Maybe Nat could help you out.

You finished cleaning up and stepped out of the shower, wrapping a towel around your body and quickly wiping your fingers on it to grab your phone.

You paused the soft music you’d been playing and opened the messages app.

Pausing to reread and huff out a laugh at your previous messages.

Something about Nat complaining about not getting any privacy with her roommates. Something you only recently found out she had.

Nat🔪:

Y/n🍦:

Emergency!

Nat’s responses were immediate and you almost felt bad for phrasing your text so urgently

Nat🔪:

What?

What is it

Are you okay?

Y/n🍦:

I don’t have anything to wear 😫

Nat🔪:

I’m blocking you.

Y/n🍦:

Natttt

I need your help

Please

Nat?

Where’d you go?

Nat🔪:

You can no longer send messages to this number

Y/n🍦:

That’s not the real blocked message.

You pathological liar. At least make it believable.

For real I need your help

Nat🔪:

Why is this such a big deal?

Y/n🍦:

I have to wear something fancy to this restaurant

Leon is taking me to.

It’s called Sharp Cuisine

Nat🔪:

Fancy?

That’s not very you

Didn't you two literally meet in a diner?

Y/n🍦:

Hey, I’ll never say no to free food.

Nat🔪:

How can he even afford a place like that?

Y/n🍦:

Maybe he has connections?

Nat🔪:

If that’s the case have fun eating

In the storage closet

Y/n🍦:

I’m so stressed out, I don’t

Go out enough to have fancy outfits.

I think there’s dust on my clubbing outfit…

Nat🔪:

That’s depressing.

Dates aren’t meant to be stressful Y/n.

Maybe you should tell him?

Y/n🍦:

He already made reservations

Not everyone is as romantic as you Nat.

I wish.

Nat🔪:

Fine, show me your options.

Y/n🍦:

Thank God

I Love you (Deleted)

I owe you!

When you’d gotten to the restaurant you were still self-conscious but you felt a lot better in the outfit Nat helped you pick, along with the accessories she told you would pair with it perfectly.

Halfway through the -honestly average dinner a fancy server approached you with a plate. Your favorite dessert sat prettily decorated and you stared in awe. Worried you might start drooling soon you turned to Leon to thank him only for him to turn to the waiter with concern etched onto his features

“Sorry but, I didn’t order this”

You furrowed your eyebrows, disappointment settling at the fact that the server probably delivered it to the wrong table

“I’m well aware sir, someone came in and told us to give it to someone named Y/n?”

You perked up at that, something hopeful and curious stirring inside your chest

“I’m Y/n” The waiter turned his attention to you, nodding his head slightly as if to say he already knew

“Yes I was given a description of your dress” He places the dessert next to your half-eaten meal and then hands you a note written on a napkin and walks away to serve another table.

You took a bite out of the sugary dish and nearly moaned at how good it was, after a few more bites you finally looked down and read the note written in pretty but precise handwriting.

“I have connections too. Enjoy your dessert, Y/n ;) ~ Nat”

Your heart nearly stopped in your chest,

She was here.

Pt.13

-Writing Leon and Y/n scenes is literally sooo hard for me I’m sorry- that’s why they might b boring~ Starry

---Taglist--

@marvelwomen-simp @cd-4848 @wandanatlov3r @rebeltombraider @ctrlamira @fxckmiup @aliherreraaa @natsxwife @la-douler-ne-finite-jamais @romanoffsgal @moistblobfish @natashaswife4125 @elenimoris @how-to-disappearrr @screechcat @toouncreativeforausername @ordelixx

185 notes · View notes

digital-domain · 7 months

Text

Curiosity, the Killer

Mahito x Reader

Word Count: 2.8k

Synopsis: You went out tonight hoping to connect with a stranger. And technically, you did… after you got home. After he broke into your apartment and cornered you in the bathroom. Good luck getting rid of him - he’s not one to control his impulses. Especially when he’s feeling curious.

Tags: dark content, noncon, death threats, talk of murder, extreme possessiveness, general rough handling, biting, hair pulling, painful sex, creampie, mahito being a pervy lil pantie sniffer

Note: Might do a part two…my brain is rotting.

You slip through the front door of your apartment, kicking off your shoes the moment it shuts behind you. Tonight did not go as you’d hoped - although to be fair, you had an active imagination, and tended to set your hopes too high. In your mind, each time you went out was a potential first chapter to one of the guilty-pleasure novels you read (and sometimes, even attempted to write) in your spare time. A beautiful stranger would compliment your dress, offer to buy you a drink, dance with you where everyone could see, kiss you on the floor, take you home…

None of that had happened tonight. The closest you’d gotten was when a ridiculously drunk college student had thrust a shot of vodka in your face. You’d dodged, but you can still smell the splash of liquor that had landed on your dress.

You’d been with a crowd of friends - maybe that was the problem. None of them had been approached either, although a couple had left with guys they’d met on dating apps earlier this weekend. Maybe that was the problem. Maybe the idea of meeting someone in the real world had become a fantasy long ago. Maybe you were stupid to still believe in it.

In any case…the night is over. And with nothing to excite you, nothing to capture your imagination, sleep is beginning to take hold. You don’t let it catch you just yet - you make your way to the bathroom, and scrub at the makeup on your face until you’re back in your bare skin. The bathroom light flickers, and you make a mental note to change the bulb tomorrow. Not tonight - you’re too tired, and with your luck, it would probably end up shattered on the floor.

For a moment, you stare at yourself in the mirror. The simple, form-fitting black dress you wore tonight is one of your favorites. It makes you feel confident - beautiful, even. You let yourself appreciate it for a while before you finally reach for the zipper, contorting your arm to pull it down your back. A second later, the fabric hits the floor with finality, and you turn on the shower.

While you wait for the water to warm up, your eyes briefly flutter shut. Before you open them, before you take off your bra and underwear and step into your warm shower, you allow yourself just a moment to imagine what might have been. You sigh with longing, and wrap your arms tightly around your waist.

Then, at your weakest moment - a second pair of arms envelops your own.

You try to whip around, but they hold you fast, allowing you to turn just enough to get a glimpse of the intruder in the mirror, and to see a third hand clamp down over your mouth, dampening your scream before it makes it out of your throat. It’s a man, you think, but nothing about his appearance makes sense. The face you saw in the mirror isn’t right. It’s human, but covered in very un-human stitches, a patchwork that doesn’t quite add up when it’s all put together. When you look down, you see that his hand and arms are covered in them, too. And the hands…you saw three. You feel three digging into your skin. That doesn’t make sense. It’s not right. Again, you try to cry out, thrashing wildly in his arms as he presses into you.

He leans down, and flicks his tongue over your ear. “Hi. You just let me know when you’re done, okay?”

A fresh ripple of terror runs through you, because he sounds nothing like you expected. His voice is high-pitched and gleeful, far too casual for such a terrifying situation. You squirm against his grip, but it holds fast. You try to scream, again and again, until you finally accept that the seal on your mouth isn’t going to break, that the shower will obscure any sound that you do manage to make. You breathe shallowly, a black haze begins to obscure your vision. His palm is warm, damp, and smells worse than the stain on your dress.

“Are you done?” He laughs - actually giggles, like what he’s doing is nothing more than harmless fun. “Well, I guess you can’t really tell me. But you can nod your head if you are.”

You shake your head vigorously, trying desperately to tear your face from his grasp.

He sighs, exasperated. “If you don’t cut it out soon, I’m gonna have to kill you.”

At this, you freeze, too petrified to move an inch more.

“I don’t want you to die,” he continues, a petulant tone slipping into his voice. “I’ve got other plans. But I can’t just stand here covering your mouth all night.” He presses his face into the crook of your neck, lips scraping against your exposed skin. “I know you don’t really know what you’re dealing with,” he mutters. “But trust me… you would be really easy to kill. I just have to do this.” A fourth unseen hand juts out from behind you and wraps around your neck. The fingernails on this hand are long, and unnaturally sharp. Sharp enough to break your skin with ease. “It’s easy from here. All I have to do is squeeze, or slice…either way, you’ll die!”

What is this thing? You’d like to believe that you’re hallucinating, but the nails tapping against your skin feel far too real.

“If I let go of you,” he explains, “I need to know that you’re not gonna scream or try to run away. I want this to be a nice night for us. It’s not gonna be nice if I have to spend it killing the people that come running to save you. I don’t wanna be distracted.” He kisses you gently on the neck, and a chill runs down your spine.

The way he’s talking…it sounds like he actually thinks he’s being sweet. You’d be less terrified if he was self-aware. If he knew what a terrible thing he was doing.

He nuzzles his face against your hair, inhaling deeply as he raises a sharp nailed finger to caress the line of your jaw. “You looked so lonely tonight,” he sighs. “I noticed it right away.”

You stiffen. He’s so deep in his delusion that he seems to have lost all grasp on reality - but he’s right about the loneliness. What, and how, does he know?

“Even with all your friends around you,” he sighs. “So miserable. Like you were waiting for someone special, and they never came.”

Everything. He knows everything. He’s had his eye on you for hours…if not longer.

“You won’t be lonely anymore if you’re good for me,” he murmurs. “And you’ll be alive.” His teeth grind into your neck, gnawing away like a dog on a bone, and your body tenses at the sudden pain. “Come on,” he whines, his voice muffled by the pinch of skin still locked between his jaws. “Just promise to be good - just nod your head…”

What choice do you have? Even if there is some other choice, your mind is too scrambled to think of it. Too confused by all the impossibilities you’ve just witnessed, still reeling from the revelation that he’s been watching you all night. Later, you’ll try to work out how he managed to enter your home, but that’s not on your mind right now - not when your life depends on a single quick decision. You nod, and when his hands slip from your face and neck a moment later, you don’t make a sound.

“Good job!” The arms around your waist squeeze you tighter, and you hear the other pair clapping in celebration behind you. “I was worried you were gonna do something stupid. I’m glad you didn’t…I’ve got such exciting plans for you. I’d be so sad if I didn’t get to use them.” He drops his arms from your waist. “Turn around. I wanna see you.”

Slowly, stiffly, you turn to face him. The third and fourth arm have somehow disappeared - he looks human now, save for the stitches running across his skin. He’s got long hair, colored a light blue. For some reason, you don’t think it’s dyed. With everything you’ve just seen, unnatural hair doesn’t seem out of the question. His eyes are mismatched - one is blue, the other grey. They’re striking, shining with a bright intensity that almost makes you want to look away.

His left hand latches onto your waist, and the right twists through your hair. “You’re pretty on the outside,” he whispers, bringing his face so close to yours that you go cross-eyed. “On the inside…you’re the same as the rest. But I don’t care about that right now.” He pulls on your hair, practically humming in excitement as you cry out. “Or maybe I do. All your silly, stupid little human desires…they’re the reason you looked so miserable tonight, aren’t they? You wanted something - or someone.” He yanks your head up and down, forcing you to nod in agreement. “I know I’m right. You were looking for another human to…how do you phrase it? To sleep with?” He smiles, his eyes stretched grotesquely wide. “So many of you have that same desire…I’ve been trying to understand it. It’s been killing me, all the wanting, the not knowing. But then I realized - if I want to understand, all I have to do is try it out!”

He pulls you into a rough, sloppy kiss, and your eyelids shut, squeezing out the tears that have gathered beneath them. You don’t want to do this. The way he’s been talking makes you feel like a specimen under a microscope - or a lab rat in a cage. When it ends…will he let me go? For a split second, you see an image of your body lying cold and lifeless beneath your bedsheets. Your eyes snap open, and you see that his already are.

“Mmm.” His eyes are narrowed, his lips pulled into a grin just a bit too wide for his face. “I made a good choice…I like you. You get even prettier when you’re scared.” Without warning, bends down, grabs both of your ankles, and yanks you off your feet. Your ears ring painfully as he drags you out of the bathroom, across the hall, shouldering open the door that leads to your bedroom. He kicks it shut behind him. Then, he pulls you into the air, dangling your body carelessly in front of him. You squirm and thrash, caught like a fish on a line.

Carefully, he makes his way across the room, and deposits you on your bed, laying you down on your back. Before you can sit up, he’s kneeling on top of you, one leg on either side of your stomach, his body pinning you to your mattress. He pulls off his shirt, drops it to the floor, and tumbles forward, his stitch-covered chest slapping against yours as his tongue darts into your mouth, exploring every inch of the space inside. When he pulls back, he’s panting like a predator at the end of a chase, eyes lidded, tongue lolling from his mouth and coated in drool. “I like this. I can’t believe I waited so long to try it.”

A whimper escapes from your lips as he slides his hands across your chest and rips your bra down the middle. He gropes you freely, squeezing and pinching until you’re crying out in pain.

“You make such cute sounds,” he whispers, taking a break from his assault to brush your hair back from your face. He squeezes your cheeks between his hands, forcing your lips to pucker, paying no mind to the glare in your eyes. “Adorable.” He grabs your wrists, pinning them to your side, and slithers down the length of your body, settling between your legs. You feel an unwelcome rush of heat to your core as he buries his nose and lips in your panties, his grip on your wrists tightening painfully as he inhales. “You even smell good,” he sighs, his muffled voice vibrating up your spine. “Do you smell like this all the time? Or is it a special scent? Does it mean you want me inside you?”

“I don’t want you.” The words spill out before you can reel them in.

“Sure you do.” His tongue darts from his mouth, and slides greedily over your cunt, the thin fabric stretched over it doing nothing to dull the sensation. “I know how your body works. I know what it means when you get all warm and wet…” He raises his face, and grins up at you. “You’re ready for me. And I’ve been ready for you for a very long time.” He grasps your panties in his teeth, and jerks his head, tearing a massive hole that leaves your cunt completely exposed. “I’ve been so curious. So desperate to know what it feels like. Why you all want it so badly…”

His body slides up over yours; he gathers your wrists in one hand and pins them over your head. The other hand yanks at the waist of his pants, pulling them down just enough for his cock to spring free. “Keep your eyes open,” he hisses, the tip of his cock already pressed to your entrance. “You’re mine. My favorite little experiment. I wanna know how I makes you feel.”

Your mouth falls open as he thrusts into you - it’s too much, too big, too fast, and you hear yourself cry out in pain as your eyes involuntarily snap shut. A second later, a rough pair of fingers tug at your eyelids, forcing them open. The face of your captor bears down upon you, eyes alight with sickening pleasure.

“Does it hurt?”

You nod quickly, tears already building up in the corners of your vision.

“Awww.” He stares shamelessly into your watery eyes, the tip of his tongue sliding over his front teeth as he presses into you. “You’re pretty when you cry, too.” His thrusts are erratic, each one pushing deeper inside you, as if he’s testing how far he can go. As you stretch around him, the pain begins to fade, replaced by a sensation that sends your eyes rolling back, even as your stomach sinks with dread. You don’t want to enjoy this. You can’t. In vain, you attempt to free yourself, squirming desperately beneath him, contorting your trapped hands to scratch feebly at the back of his palm.

“You wanna fight? That’s so cute.” He shoves the full length of his cock inside you, cackling at the way your eyes widen in response. “So, so cute…makes me wanna keep you. Wanna see how long it takes for you to stop fighting…for you to like it…”

You try to tell yourself that he’s babbling, that he doesn’t mean any of it. That he’ll leave, that you’ll never have to see him again, that your life will go on just as it was before. It all feels like a lie. He’s insane, but he believes every word that he says. If he says he’s not letting you go…

“You feel so good.” He groans, and presses his face against your neck. “I don’t think this is gonna last much longer…but that’s okay. We’ll try again. We’ll practice until…” He gasps. “Until forever. Yeah. I’m gonna keep you forever.” His cock pulses inside of you. His hand slips from your wrists and slides under your back, locking you in a deadly embrace - as soon as your hands are free, you try to push him away, but he’s oblivious to your efforts and impossible to move, nestled securely against you as his cum gushes deep into your cunt. He stays where he is for many, many painful seconds, only pulling away when he’s gone soft inside you. Then, he turns you onto your side, and wraps his arms around your waist.

You let your own arms go limp. It’s too late to struggle, useless to try. Much easier to lay your head down, and surrender to the kisses peppering the back of your neck.

“All mine,” he hums, dragging his hand in loose circles over your stomach. “All mine.” He lifts his head, peers over your shoulder. “Oh, come on. Don’t look so sad.” You turn your head to look back at him, a tight knot forming in your stomach as he wipes a stray tear from your cheek. “You should be happy. You got what you wanted!” He cups your face in his hand, and smiles. “You belong to me now. And that means you’re never, ever gonna be lonely again.”

#tw: noncon #tw: dark content #jjk x reader #mahito x reader #mahito #jjk mahito #mahito x you

304 notes · View notes

vanwritesfan-fiction · 7 months

Text

If You Let Me, Part Two

Warnings: language, smut, angst, references to cheating

When you were a little girl, you would dress up in your mother's vintage 80s wedding dress and imagine your wedding with Joe. In your defense, you were five and he was seven, and your idea of a marriage ceremony was shaking hands at the altar and then going out for ice cream afterward. You were naive to say the least, like most five year olds, but at the time it felt real. The love you had for him was of the purest form.

Little you would be heartbroken to know that now, not only were you not married to Joe, but as the two of you walked down the aisle, rehearsing for your brother's wedding, you had hurt him so badly, he couldn't stand the sight of you.

"Joe, I'm sorry." You mumbled under your breath. Step forward.

"You said that already." He gritted out between clenched teeth, his gaze held out front. Step forward.

"But I feel like you're not accepting of my apology." You looked over at him; Joe could feel your eyes burning on his skin. Step forward.

"Because I don't." Stop moving.

"Let's try to keep in time with the music!" The stress on the wedding planner's voice was evident. You were messing up the timing, a large gap forming between you and the bridesmaid and groomsman pair before you.

"I don't accept your apology." Joe rolled his shoulders back, he refused to lose his composure in front of a crowd. "That kiss, it never happened. Just forget about it." You felt your eyes start to burn, tears threatening to fall. "As soon as this weekend is over, we'll be out of each other's lives for good." He left you standing in the middle of the aisle.

"Please keep up! Timing is everything!" You jumped at the command of the wedding planner.

****

After the rehearsal, the bridal and groomsman parties were set to head to a house your family had rented out for the weekend. If it wasn't bad enough that you had to walk next to Joe in the wedding, you were also going to be forced to be in the same house as him for the next 24 hours. It read like a bad romance novel, except there was no chance the two of you would be sleeping together tonight.

To no doubt impress the wedding party, your mom chose a mansion in the suburbs of Cincinnati, complete with a library and theater room. You chose a bedroom on the far side of the house to sleep in, away from Joe and pretty much everyone else, and while the rest of the party was drinking and having fun in the living room, you were hiding out in the library, nursing a large glass of wine on the made to look vintage leather couch on the far side of the room.

"How did I know I would find you hiding in a corner somewhere?" Your brother Chris was a spitting image of your father, from the way their brow furrowed when they were angry, to the downturn of their mouths when they smiled. He sat down next to you on the sofa with a groan, placing his beer on the table. "Old habits die hard, I guess." You admitted with a chuckle. As a kid, your face was always buried in a book, a trait you got from your dad, and you had lost count of how many hiding places you had around the house that gave you peace and quiet.

"Dad would have loved this library." Chris took in the tall, ceiling height bookshelves filled with books. "But he would have hated this house."

"Why do you need a house with so many bathrooms? You can only use one at a time!" The two of you said in unison, followed by laughter. Your mother was extravagant, but your father was as simple as they came, and he hated excess. They always butted heads when the two of you were growing up, over pretty much everything.

"How does it feel? Last night as a single man." You patted your brother's shoulder. "Good. It feels really good. I'm ready for tomorrow. Glad to have you in the wedding. I know mom had to drag you in kicking and screaming, but I'm still really glad you're here, sis." Your breath hitched as you saw Joe walk past the door to the library. Chris tracked your gaze, noticing you staring at him.

"Have the two of you kissed again, yet?" His question startled you, making you spill a bit of wine on your dress. "What are you talking about?", you asked, frantically trying to dab at the stain with a napkin.

"Please. Joe is my best friend, I know when somethings going on with him. Give me a little bit more credit than that." Chris could tell you were worried he wasn't going to approve. Your best friend and your little sister, it hardly sits well with anyone. He grabbed your arm reassuringly. "Don't worry. I was mad about it at first, but I've had three years to get over it."

"When did he tell you?" You fiddled with the hem of your skirt, avoiding eye contact.

"The night it happened. He got drunk and it slipped. Almost punched him, but I was hardly in any position to fight anyone that night either." Chris downed the last of his beer before turning to you. "Mom knows how to throw a Christmas party." You smiled, tears brimming in your lashes. "That she does."

"I'm guessing you two didn't make up today." There was that same downturned face. You'd seen it when your father was disappointed with you many times as a child. "I think we're way past that, Chris. I don't think there's any relationship to fix between us."

"I wouldn't be so sure. He asks about you all the time. If you'll be at any of Mom's gatherings. If you were going to be in the wedding. I think there's still something there." You felt a lightness at Chris' words, a glimmer of hope was there for the first time.

"Chris! Its time for the toast!" Tiffany's voice trailed down the hall.

"Ah, time for me to do the only thing I'm good at." Chris stood, a little bit wobbly. "Are you gonna be okay?"

"Yes. Go, I'll be right there." You closed your eyes as Chris laid a quick kiss on your forehead.

****

Joe yawned, stretching out his back as he took the stairs up to his bedroom. He noticed the door to one of the rooms was open, and as he peeked his head in, he was yanked by the arm into what he quickly realized was a closet.

"Shhh." You covered his mouth with your hand, listening intently for your mother's voice. When you realized you were in the clear, you slowly removed your hand. "Sorry, I couldn't risk you compromising my location. My mom wants me to try on the bridesmaid dress before tomorrow, but I've had way too much wine to deal with her right now." The two of you were chest to chest in the small room, Joe almost tall enough to rest his chin on the top of your head. You tried to ignore how good he smelled in the small confines of the closet. This wasn't the time to go weak at the knees.

"Can I go now?" Joe huffed, consciously avoiding eye contact with you, shoving his hands in his front pockets. "Yeah." You grabbed at the handle. "Actually, no, we need to talk."

"Oh my god." Joe grumbled out, running a hand down his face in frustration.

"No, listen, please. I get it. You don't like me, that's fine. I deserve that." You accidentally rested your hands on his chest, feeling the contours of his muscles. Joe cleared his throat, looking down at you, which immediately made you pull back. "Oh, Sorry."

"I need you to accept my apology, Joe. I know its selfish, but I can't breathe around you right now, and I hate that. I need us to be okay. You are my brother's best friend. I want to be able to go to holidays and dinners without worrying that I'm going to be running into you. We don't need to be friends, just okay." You felt yourself rambling, but you couldn't stop. Joe's silence didn't help.

"Can you tell me one thing?" Joe rubbed at his jawline, finally taking in your face. He hated how beautiful you looked, it made everything a lot harder. "Yes, anything." You didn't know what to do with your hands, opting to place them on your hips awkwardly.

"If you hadn't been heartbroken- I mean, if you hadn't just gotten out of a relationship, would we have been something more?" You could read between the lines of his question. Would that kiss have led to sex, or a relationship, or anything besides you leaving him alone and cold on the balcony that night.

"Yes." You answered without hesitation. "It was never about you, Joe. It was about me not wanting to hurt you. I really fucked that up, but you have to believe that I had good intentions." You held your breath as you waited for his response. Joe's gaze dropped to your lips, his mouth slightly agape as he listened to you talk. "Say something, please."

You let out a small gasp as Joe pulled you into his body, crashing lips with yours, his kiss hungry and passionate. You couldn't breathe, but you didn't care in the moment, pressing yourself into his chest as he pinned you against the door. His hands were all over you, first at your back, before falling to grab your ass. You raked your fingernails through his short hair, whining into his mouth.

Frantic to get you undressed, he broke away quickly to help you get your shirt over your head before his mouth was on yours again, his tongue pressing between your teeth to explore your mouth. Your kisses turn into short pecks on his lips as his chest heaves, trying to catch a breath. You place both of your hands on his chest, gently pushing him away.

"I swear to God, if you're rejecting me again." Joe leaned his forehead against yours, blinking into the darkness of the closet, his only thought of kissing you again. "No, no, listen." You had learned the heaviness of your mother's footsteps over the year, and could tell she was coming down the hallway. "Y/N! Where are you, hun? We need to get this dress fitted before tomorrow!"

"We have to get out of here." Joe chuckled, holding you in a hug as you waited for your mom to pass. You slowly opened the door, your shirt covering your chest as you checked both directions before you grabbed Joe's hand, pulling him toward your room.

****

With a lock of the door, Joe had you on the bed, hovering over you. "I've been thinking about this for so long." Joe pressed a kiss between your breasts as he worked to get your jeans off, fumbling with the button. "Me too", you heaved out, lifting your hips to help him. You pulled him back up to you by the collar of his shirt, cupping his face as you kissed him, sucking on his bottom lip. You unhooked your bra with one hand, playfully tossing it over his shoulder, your panties following suit. Joe quickly pushed off the bed to take his shirt off, revealing his tan, toned chest. He tosses a condom from his wallet over to you, and you carelessly rip the packaging with your teeth.

"Hurry up!" You giggled as he shed his pants, his erection visible beneath his cotton boxers. "We've waited three years. You can wait five more seconds." With one blink, he was back on top of you, his hands framing your face. You pulled his weight down on top of you, your fingers toying with the waistband of his boxers, pushing them down past his thighs.

You let out a content sigh as his hands traveled down to your lower stomach, his calloused fingers grazing against your clit, making you shiver. You couldn't control the moan that left your mouth as he drug his fingers through your folds, feeling how wet you were for him.

"Does this feel good?", his eyes followed your face for approval as he pressed his thumb against your sensitive bud, gently slipping two fingers into your pussy. "Oh, yes."You nod frantically, grabbing onto his bicep for leverage as he begins to quicken the pace of his digits, his fingers disappearing in and out of you, each thrust making you clench down around his hand.

Joe tries to kiss you, but you can barely concentrate on anything happening above the waist, your mouth hanging open as you feel your orgasm hurdling toward you. "Oh, fuck, Joe." You're digging your fingernails into his shoulders, but his focus is on your pleasure, praising you as you come undone beneath him. "So beautiful, so good for me."

Your legs begin to shake, toes going numb as you came, Joe's deep, husky voice in your ear driving you crazy. Waves of pleasure washed over you, every muscle in your body contracting over and over again as you ride the high, Joe continuing to thrust into you, slower and more controlled now, extending your orgasm. He feels your walls fluttering around his fingers, and he slowly pulls out.

"Hmmm", the sound vibrates through your chest as Joe peppers kisses along your jawline. Just touching you, feeling your delicate skin beneath his hand turns him on. There hasn't been a day since the two of you kissed where he hasn't imagined this exact scenario, finally getting to fuck you, see you writhe beneath him, and the way you perform, uninhibited and so fuckin' sexy, is better than anything he could have imagined.

"I want you, Joe. I don't want to wait any longer." You take in his baby blue eyes, his jaw flexing as you stroke his length, feeling the warmth pool in his lower stomach as you circle the head of his cock. He watches as you roll the condom down his cock, before taking over.

Joe presses himself against your entrance as you spread your legs further, his fingertips digging into your hips as you take him all the way to the hilt. "Fuck", Joe curses on his breath as you wiggle your hips down as much as you can, your ass pressed against his pelvis.

That first thrust is euphoric, knocking the breath out of your lungs. You gasp at the stretch each time he disappears in and out of you, but Joe takes it slow, reading your face and listening to your words, so incredibly attentive to your needs. When your back arches as he continues to move his hips, he throws your legs over his shoulders, kissing at your calves, each stroke passing right over your g-spot.

You let out a high pitch noise, and Joe's pace slows. "Don't stop. Feels so good." you encourage him, wrapping your legs around his waist and hooking your ankles behind his back, pulling him deeper inside of your pussy.

You feel your orgasm building again, and you can tell by the way Joe's face contorts that he's close as well. "Fuck, I'm gonna cum", Joe grunts out, collapsing down on your chest, his face nuzzled into the crook of your neck. He continues to snap his hips into you as your orgasm for the second time, the release just as powerful as the first time, your nails raking up and down his back.

You shiver at the feeling as he cums, goosebumps raising on your skin. Your chests heave in unison as the two of you come down from your highs, Joe moving to laying next to you.

"That was-", you feel yourself blush, relishing in the pleasure. "Fuckin' fantastic." Joe finishes your sentence, chuckling as he pulls you into his chest, pressing a kiss onto your temple. You rub his sides, drawing relaxing circles over his skin, as he drapes your leg over his body. "I'm glad we saw each other at the church yesterday." Joe tips your chin up to look at him, his hand stroking your cheek. "I am too." You meet him in a kiss, soft and gentle, all of your energy gone.

You feel your eyelids grow heavy, feeling a sense of calm wash over you as you fall asleep in Joe's arms.

****

Joe is already gone when you wake up. You can't help but smile to yourself, overwhelmed by how happy you feel. You head to your room and quickly get dressed, knowing that everyone will be having breakfast soon.

Joe is watching you from the kitchen island as you walk into the kitchen. He gives you a wink when he's sure no one else is watching, and you feel the heat rise in your chest, desperately wanting to feel his lips on yours again.

"Nice of you to join us, sleepy head." Chris hands you a cup of coffee, leaning against the counter. "You disappeared last night. Missed a riveting game of charades. Where'd you end up?" It takes everything in you to not look at Joe, whose gaze drops to his coffee cup. Chris never misses anything, noticing the tension between you and Joe. "Oh. Yeah, sorry I asked." Chris shakes off the visuals, leaving you and Joe alone in the kitchen.

"Good Morning." Joe is downright beaming as he smiles at you.

"Good Morning." You start to speak, but are interrupted by the doorbell. "Must be the makeup artists."

"Must be." Joe agrees, a cocky grin on his face.

Your mom enters the kitchen, already dressed as if she was ready to head to the wedding. "Oh hun, there you are. I have a surprise for you. I know you weren't exactly excited to go to the wedding, and I happened to run into his mom yesterday before the rehearsal and one thing led to another...". You furrowed your brow at your mom. "What did you do?"

Your stomach turns as a guy walks into the kitchen behind her, his dark brown hair almost covering his eyes, a scraggly beard covering his face. If you didn't have his face memorized, you probably wouldn't have recognized him. Three years without seeing someone will do that to your memory.

"Brandon? What are you doing here?" You almost drop your coffee cup as you look at your ex-boyfriend. The same one who had cheated on your three years ago.

Tag-List:

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@bernelflo

@wickedfun9

@brrbrina

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#joe burrow #joeburrow #joe burrow x reader #joe burrow fanfiction #joe burrow imagine #joe burrow smut #nfl imagine #nfl fanfic #nfl fanfiction #nfl smut

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annwrites · 2 months

Text

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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candycandy00 · 2 months

Note

CANDYYY!! Congratulations on 2k followers!! You deserve every single one of them!! 💕💕

I saw the build your own fanfic adventure and you know I have to get in on this soooooooo:

Character: Dabi (what a surprise there 😂)

AU setting: Honestly I'm so stuck between Gothic Mansion and Monster Forest, I'll let you decide!!

Spice level: screw it let's go all the way, NSFW bb

Mood: I'll leave it up to you! You know me, I could go either way!

Kink: ugh I'll indulge a little today, Breeding/Daddy kink (sometimes I like being taken care of, you know?? 😂😂)

Have fun my love! 😘 Can't wait to read Choso's chapter!!

Waxwork - A Dabi x Reader Fanfic

Smut. 18+. Fem Reader. Dabi as a werewolf. Dabi as a vampire. Light vampire-related blood. Rough sex. Breeding. Oral sex. Heavily inspired by the 1988 horror film “Waxwork”.

This ended up a lot longer than I planned but I hope you like it, babe!

Part of CandyCandy’s 2k Followers Event! Any feedback is loved! Dividers by @benkeibear.

You’ve always loved wax museums, so when a new one opened up in town, you just had to visit on opening day. You walk through the doors, noting sadly that there isn’t a very big crowd. After looking through the “historical figures” and “celebrities” sections, you wander into the “fictional characters” area.

There are highly detailed wax figures lovingly made to recreate various famous scenes from novels and movies. A large portion of them are horror, and so you feel a chill down your spine as you notice you’re the only visitor in this section.

Some of the wax figures look so realistic, you find yourself staring at them to make sure they’re not moving. You walk around, looking at the displays, before stopping at one that fascinates you.

The scene looks like the interior of a cabin in the woods. There are even fake trees outside the windows. The “room” is lit by a fireplace. Near the door, there’s a young man bent backwards in what appears to be agony, in the midst of a transformation. He has messy white hair, and half his body is covered in white fur, giving the illusion that the fur is spreading. His dark clothes are ripped, and he’s clutching his head with his hands, one of them tipped with razor sharp claws. His eyes, so bright blue that they seem to glow, are staring upwards. You imagine he’s staring at a full moon.

Also in the display is a young woman in a ragged dress, recoiling from him in horror. Strangely, she resembles you. Her build is the same as yours, as well as her hair. But with her face so twisted by fear, you can’t really tell if that resembles yours too.

Your eyes keep being drawn back to the man, to the fine white fur that looks like crushed velvet. You want to touch it, to feel it beneath your fingertips. And his eyes… so beautiful.

Wait… did his eyes just move? For a fraction of a second, you thought his eyes flicked down to your face. But surely you imagined it. You laugh nervously, deciding you’ve been looking at this display for too long.

You move quickly to the next display, this one looking like the ornate dining room of a gothic castle. Sitting at the table in a beautiful Victorian style dress is a young woman who looks almost identical to the one from the previous display. Which means she looks just like you. Her hair is pinned up in an intricate style, and her dress is way too immodest to be historically accurate. It’s an off the shoulder design that is extremely low cut, exposing way more cleavage than was probably common in the Victorian era.

The young woman is holding a steak knife in her hand, and has apparently cut her finger on it by accident, as a shiny drop of red “blood” is made to look as if it’s dripping down her hand. But the most interesting part of this display is the man standing behind her, like a predator.

You draw in a sharp breath as you look at him, realizing with a tinge of alarm that he’s the same as the man from the werewolf display, with slight differences. This one has black hair, and is wearing a black Victorian suit with a cape. He also has scars covering the lower half of his face. But those eyes… those lovely blue eyes… they’re the same. There’s a look of hunger in them as he leans over the woman, staring at the drop of blood. You look at the blood too, trying to imagine why he finds it so compelling.

Oh, he must be a vampire! You almost laugh at yourself for being so slow to realize it. You casually glance back up at his face, and your breath catches in your throat.

He’s looking straight at you. Not at the drop of blood, but at you.

Your heart pounds furiously as you stare at him, locked in his gaze. This time you’re certain. His eyes moved! You know for a fact he was looking at the woman’s hand before! So why is he looking into your eyes now?

This must be some kind of trick or gimmick, you tell yourself, trying to calm down. Maybe the wax figure has some sort of mechanized feature that makes his eyes move, as a way to excite the visitors. Or, judging by how realistic he looks, maybe he’s an actor! The possibility makes you feel quite silly.

You back away, suddenly eager to leave this section of the museum, but your back collides with something and your body bounces forward, causing you to stumble over the velvet rope cordoning off the display and fall directly into it. You close your eyes and brace for the impact of the floor, but instead you black out.

When your eyes snap open, you’re sitting at the fancy table in the dining room. There’s a plate of delicious looking food in front of you and a steak knife in your hand. A single drop of blood is sliding down your index finger. You look in front of you, where the rope should be, but it’s not there. In fact, the rest of the museum is gone! You really are in a complete dining room!

All at once you remember the other occupant of the room, and you slowly turn your head to look over your shoulder. Leaning over you is the very beautiful, very alive, vampire with the black hair and the scars.

“Did you cut yourself? Are you okay?” he asks. You expected his voice to be more smooth and formal, given his attire, but he sounds like any random guy you go to college with.

You’re not sure what to say, wondering if this is a dream or not. Did you hit your head when you fell?

The man grabs your hand, firmly but not harshly, and pulls it up to his face to examine it. “Looks like a small cut,” he says, then wraps his scarred lips around your finger, his tongue lapping gently at the blood.

You’re so transfixed that you don’t think to pull your hand away until he’s finished. His eyes move over you, and you’re suddenly very aware of how obscenely low cut your dress is. You stand up from the table and look around, still hoping to see the rest of the museum somewhere. But it’s just not there.

“Not running off, are you?” the man asks, a hint of a grin on his face. “It’s been a long time since I’ve had someone for dinner.” His tongue runs over his lips as he says it, making your face flush with heat.

“Um, I’m not really sure where I am,” you say, your back against the edge of the table.

He steps closer to you. “You’re in my home, doll, and we’re about to have dessert.”

You feel paralyzed as he gets closer and closer, until his body is pressed against yours. He’s taller than you, probably a little older, but he’s fucking gorgeous.

Maybe this is a dream. Maybe it’s a concussion-induced hallucination. But whatever it is, you might as well enjoy it.

You reach up and wrap your arms around him as he lifts you up and sits you on the table, the plates and silverware magically gone. His mouth is on your neck, licking along a vein before you feel a sharp pain. He’s biting you! The pain is intense for a few moments, and then disappears, replaced by a feeling of euphoria. You can feel his teeth tearing at your delicate skin, can feel his tongue gliding along the wound, but it doesn’t hurt at all now. You only feel warm and aroused, listening to the sensual sucking sounds as he devours your blood.

He lies you back on the table and pulls away from your neck. His mouth is sticky and red. He pulls the top of your dress down, freeing your breasts, and then his hands and mouth are upon them, squeezing and licking.

You moan, clutching his shoulders, opening your legs ever wider as his body presses to you. Eventually he reaches down and rips the skirt of your dress right up the middle, clearing himself a path to your panties and exposing your white garter belt and stockings. He tears the panties away and bends down, running his tongue along your heated, damp flesh. You arch your back, ridiculously turned on by the idea of a vampire eating you out. His tongue, still wet with your blood, circles your clit, driving you to madness.

When you’re right on the edge of climax, he stops and pulls away, opening his pants to the sounds of your panting. “Gonna be a good girl for me?” he asks, sliding his hand up and down his hard, pleasingly large shaft.

“Yes! I’ll be so good!” you breathe out, locking your legs around his body, pulling him closer.

He grins as he shoves himself into you, licking your blood from his lips. His thrusts are deep, intimate, and hit your sweet spot just perfectly. “Ahh… feels so good…” you cry.

You want to moan his name, but you have no idea what it is.

“That’s it,” he says with a grunt, thrusting deeper, “taking me so well!”

Fuck it. Just go with the vibes.

“Harder, Daddy!”

He looks down at you, momentarily surprised, but then he laughs and fucks you harder than you’ve ever been fucked before.

You were already on the edge of cumming, and now you’re pushed over the edge by the way his tip hits your cervix, making you bounce off the table. You cum while clenching his cock.

Just before he releases his seed inside you, painting your womb in his color, he leans forward and bites your neck again. There’s that brief searing pain again, contrasting so deliciously with the pleasure rippling through you as his cock pulses in your body.

He pulls away, licking his lips again and pulling you up to your feet by your hand, like a gentleman. You’re in a daze as he leads you to the door of the room. “Thanks, doll. I haven’t had any visitors in a long time. Hopefully I’ll see you in the next one.”

“Next one?” you ask, confused as you walk through the door.

You find yourself back in the museum, standing in front of the vampire display. But it looks different now. The woman sitting at the table doesn’t look like you anymore, instead having plain, almost blank features. And the man, the vampire, is standing up straight, looking right at you, a subtle grin on his bloody lips.

Startled, you step back and touch your hand to your neck. You can feel the puncture wounds, the slick blood trickling out.

Was… was that real?

Somewhat delirious, you stagger away, and end up stumbling right into another display. This time you blink and you’re in the cabin in the woods. You’re the girl in the torn dress, cowering in fear of the white haired man who is turning into a werewolf before your very eyes.

He looks at you through his agony as his body transforms, and you can see the recognition in his eyes.

“Oh fuck, not this one!” he says, trying to move away from you. “Run! Get… to the edge… of the forest! Hurry!”

“What’s happening!?” you scream. “How did I even get here?”

“It’s the museum!” he shouts, clutching his head in pain. “Listen, you have to run! I can’t… control this form! I go fucking feral!”

You stand there, frozen, watching the soft white fur spread across his lean body, the claws on his hands get longer, the teeth in his much wider mouth become large and sharp. Two white furry ears even grow out of the top of his head.

“Feral, you say?” The question rolls off your tongue. Watching him writhe in pain as his body changes is… actually kind of hot.

He looks at you, blue eyes wild, and he seems to understand what you want. The transformation is complete. He stands before you much taller than before, covered head to toe in that lovely white fur. There’s a primal feel to the way he looks at you. Animalistic. Predatory.

Either he’s going to rip you apart or fuck your brains out. You really really hope it’s the latter.

He lunges forward and tackles you to the floor, pushing you face down onto the rug in front of the fireplace. His movements are fast and aggressive, but not too rough. He easily could have killed you already.

With one swipe of his powerful claws, your dress is in tatters, barely clinging to your body in tiny strips that cover nothing. Behind you, he lifts your hips and spreads your thighs, and almost immediately plunges into your slick pussy.

You cry out, gripping the rug in your hands as he begins fucking into you, your bare chest and stomach rubbing against the rug with each thrust. Ah, his cock feels incredible! It’s long and hard, covered in a thin layer of soft velvety fur. As he takes you from behind, he uses one hand to lightly scrape his claws down your back.

“Oh god!” you scream out when one clawed hand reaches around and finds your clit, rubbing and pinching it, making your body tremble. You don’t have to tell him to fuck you harder. You don’t think he possibly could. Your knees are wobbling, barely supporting you, your face is pressed into the rug, your tears seeping into it. You’ve never felt this good in your entire life.

You feel him twitching inside you, and just as you feel his scalding hot cum shoot directly into your womb, you feel your own orgasm wash over you. Moaning and panting, you stay there on the rug, your face buried in it, until he eventually pulls out. By the time you have the energy to roll over and look at him, he’s reverted back to human form.

He’s standing there naked, his white hair damp and hanging in his eyes. He drops down onto the rug beside you, and you scoot closer to him, pulling your knees up to your chest.

“What is this place?” you ask him. “Is this really still the museum?”

The fireplace is roaring behind you, and you can hear the wind blowing through the trees outside the cabin.

“I think every display is its own pocket dimension,” he says. “But fuck if I know how it all works.”

You look at him intently. “Who are you?”

He shrugs. “Just a guy who got stuck here. I came to the museum with some friends a few years ago, stumbled into one of the displays, and got stuck. I stayed inside too long, so now I can’t leave.”

“Why not?” you ask.

“When I finally found the border, the way back to the museum, I stuck one arm out and it instantly turned to wax. As long as I stay in the displays, I’m flesh and blood. But I can move my consciousness around the different dimensions.”

You suddenly feel panicked. “What about me?��

He grins. “You’ll be fine. You haven’t been here nearly long enough. Certain rare people get pulled in, and I always lead them out.”

You meet his gaze for a few moments, then say, “I’ll come back! I’ll visit you as often as I can!”

He gives you a somewhat sad smile. “The museum moves around to different towns. We probably won’t be here for longer than a year.”

“Then I’ll track it down!” you say forcefully, causing him to blink in surprise. “Wherever you go, I’ll find you!”

“I hope so,” he says, then he stands up and heads for the door, opening it. He tosses a blanket to you to cover yourself with and says, “You better get going. Head to the edge of the forest and you’ll be back in the museum.”

You wrap the blanket around yourself as you walk through the door. You stop and look back at him. “What’s your name?”

He smiles. “Touya.”

Minutes later, you’re back in the museum, standing in front of the werewolf display. The man who was once bent back in pain is standing calmly in the cabin now, looking at you without moving. You wave to him before turning to leave. “See you later, Touya!”

#dabi x reader #dabi #touya todoroki #todoroki touya #touya x reader #bnha x reader #dabi smut #dabi x you #x reader #candys2kevent

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startrekfangirl2233-writes · 6 months

Text

Bookmark my Heart

Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw x Reader

Description: You're not the audiobook type. You much prefer reading over listening to books. It would just be your luck that an audiobook got you into this predicament. His eyes are piercing as you fumble with your phone to mute the volume, his voice blaring from the device.

Warnings: None! (Though I do believe Flirty!Rooster is a warning I should call out.)

Themes: Meet-Cute, Flirting, Coffee, Books, Smut Books

Word Count: 3456

A/N: So, if you all aren't aware, today is the lovely @roosterforme's birthday! I couldn't think of a better way to celebrate Em and all of the amazing things she does more than to write some Rooster for her. Happy Birthday! I hope your day is as wonderful as you are! So without further ado, I'm pleased to present you all with Bookmark my Heart, a fic where Bradley Bradshaw is an audiobook narrator and the reader, nicknamed Paper, runs right into him! All my thanks to @horseshoegirl and @desert-fern for beta-reading this fic and catching all of the places where I've missed commas as well as updating my phrasing!

My Masterlist

AO3: Cross-posted Here!

Wattpad: Cross-posted Here!

You’re not the audiobook type. Something about having someone read the pages, providing inflections and changes of tone to the otherwise inflectionless words tends to kill your imagination. So you much prefer reading over listening to the books you’re in the mood to peruse. It would just be your luck that an audiobook got you into this predicament. His eyes are piercing as you fumble with your phone to mute the volume, his voice blaring from the device. But maybe you should back up a little bit.

It all started, like it usually did for you, with a book. Unlike normally though, you aren’t talking about Keats, Byron, Shelley, or Austen. This time, the book that was your downfall was something you’d usually classify as chick-lit. Not that chick-lit is a bad thing. There are quite a few romance novels which are beautifully written and that you enjoy reading and re-reading. It’s just not normal that a romance novel, something smutty and provocative, would end up being talked about on podcasts and the news. That’s not considering how all of your female colleagues seem to be talking about the very same book. But that’s the other interesting thing. They’re not even discussing the book’s contents. More like they’re discussing the narrator’s voice in the audiobook edition - how deep and smooth and raspy it is.

It hadn’t even been a full day before the curiosity got the better of you and you purchased the book from Kindle Unlimited. It took you the better part of two weeks before you actually screwed up the courage to listen to it though. Maybe you shouldn’t have picked a Saturday morning when you were running errands to listen to the book. In your defense, there was no better time to listen to the book other than a day when you’d be spending quite a long time in the car with nothing else to do. You’d definitely miscalculated. Dear lord, this man’s voice?! It’s deep and raspy, something smooth and dark in how he voices the syllables. It’s the kind of voice you’ve once heard referred to as panty-wetting - an epithet you’ve never understood until now.

The book has you squirming as you walk through the grocery store. There’s sweat dripping down your spine as he talks about something involving fighter jets and the men (and women - you always feel like you have to correct) who fly them. You’d never have thought that flaps and ailerons could ever be that alluring. You have to take a minute as you leave the grocery store, sitting in your car in silence practically heaving just at the way the word “Doll” had dripped off of his lips. Maybe you can buy into the hype a little bit. It’s not often that you find a romance book in the male perspective after all. As far as finding the pilots sexy goes, though, what can you say? You’ve seen Top Gun - both movies - those boys in their dress whites are awfully sexy.

You send a little prayer of thanks to Rooster Bradshaw, whoever he is, for narrating this book. Just his voice has already made your boring Saturday running errands a thousand times better. You don't even mind that you're melting in the San Diego heat without the air conditioning on as you collect yourself. At least there is only one thing you have left to do today. As a reward for finishing up your errands, including odious activities like going to the bank and post office and grocery shopping, you'd vowed to treat yourself with a romp through your favorite bookstore.

Like you mentioned earlier, it all started with a book. What can you say? You're nothing if not predictable. The Breezy Bean is your favorite coffee shop and bookstore. It's a small shop nestled right in the midst of cobblestone streets and overshadowed by apartment buildings on either side. It's always a zoo trying to get parking, but you can't regret the competition for parking when the books are as good as they are and the coffee is even better.

Lara's not at the counter, but her business partner and best friend, Emily is, and you wave at her absentmindedly as you tangle the cord of your headphones around your index finger. The entire shop smells like coffee beans, paper and ink. You could spend forever here, and you're sure you have, at the very least, spent the entire day in the shop before. The shelves tower over your head, creaking under the weight of everything they hold. You're not a woman on a mission today, content to just meander until a cover catches your fancy. The eyes eat first, after all, isn't that what they say? If only you knew how true that statement would be.

The whole time you're listening to the book, tasting the words on your tongue seconds after Rooster says them, teasing the syllables out like you're trying to snatch them from his lips. Is it any wonder that after about four hours of listening to his voice, you're starting to imagine what the main character of the book looks like based on how Rooster sounds? You're only human, after all. It's quiet and dim in the back of the store, the shelves lit only by the small lights shining from the wall sconces. This is your favorite section of the store. There's a squashy green armchair here with a small table, and this is where you usually sit and wile away the hours.

It's rare that anyone ever ventures into this corner of the store. So it's a surprise when you see a man standing right in front of your favorite chair. He's tall and ridiculously handsome, wearing an eye-wateringly bright Hawaiian shirt and slim-fitting jeans. Like everyone in California, he's got Ray-Bans flung into the neckline of his tank top. The truly unique part of his look is the mustache he's carefully cultivated on his upper lip. He’s holding a book in long-fingered hands, lips pursed as he scans the pages, leaning gently against one of the shelves.

You try your best to squeeze past him in the narrow aisle, wondering if Em and Lara have squeezed more shelves back here or if you've just gained weight when it happens — your headphone cord snags on the buttons on his open shirt. You try to untangle it, unsuccessfully, but then your phone falls out of your pocket and rips your headphones right out of the jack.

You were just getting to a good part, something filled with innuendo but not quite at the sex. That's your only silver lining. Because when your phone nosedives to the, thankfully, carpeted floor sans your headphones, the audio keeps playing way too loudly for the hushed environment. To add insult to injury, your phone is closer to him than it is to you, and well, you've embarrassed yourself enough. The last thing you need is to get eye-level with a stranger's dick while your phone is narrating smut in a bookstore.

“Good book?” There's a smile on his face, and you nod timidly as he hands you back your phone. You pause the app and turn the volume all the way down before his words, or well, you should say, the sound of his voice sinks in.

If you weren’t mortified before, you're even more so now. Obviously, your brain does not compute, so your brain-to-mouth filter isn't working as you blurt out, “You're Rooster Bradshaw.”

It doesn’t surprise you at all when he starts laughing - a full body, belly laugh which fills the stacks with the mellifluous sound. If you had any doubts before that you'd run into the Rooster Bradshaw at your favorite coffee shop before (which you didn’t - see your intimate knowledge of his voice from earlier), you wouldn’t have any now. His character had actually laughed not fifteen minutes ago in the book. Well, now what are you supposed to do? You feel hot, embarrassment crawling its way up your throat as you shift your weight back and forth. Rooster's smiling at you as he stands back, lounging against the shelf like he's waiting for you to get your shit together. You'd hate to break it to him, but you don't think that's possible.

“I'm sorry.” You try your best to hide your face because he does not need to see what your facial expressions are doing.

“What do you have to be sorry for?” You shrug a shoulder as you busy yourself by turning around and trying to force yourself to read the titles. “It's not every day I run into pretty girls in my favorite bookstore, listening to me narrate a book about US Naval Aviators.”

Flirting shouldn’t be the thing which puts you at ease in this situation. There really must be something wrong with you. You’ve never done anything like this before. What happened to the girl who would have run away the minute the phone fell? She might not be facing down the sexiest man she’s ever seen, but at least that version of her isn’t at risk of heart palpitations.

“I hate to break it to you, Rooster, but a lot of pretty women are listening to you right now. This book has made its way onto podcasts and PBS. The author herself has been interviewed gushing about your professionalism and how you say the word “aileron.” Despite your mortification, you find yourself mirroring his relaxed position against the shelves. “Though I do have to correct a part of your statement there. What about yoga pants, glasses, and a messy bun makes me pretty? Because I’d call myself a mess.”

“Well, I wouldn’t go so far as to say you’re a mess, pretty girl.” Rooster grins as he tugs the shoulder of your cami up from where it is sliding down your arm. “Don’t you know exactly how devastating you look in those yoga pants?”

You’re left dumbstruck, reeling as he leans even closer to you. All of a sudden, you’re inundated with the scent of his cologne as he crowds into your space, and you’re forced to tip your head up to keep eye contact. Of course, the motion makes your glasses tip on your face, and you can’t lift a hand up to resettle them on your face without brushing up against every inch of the man, nearly squishing you into the shelf. There’s a scant few centimeters between you as you try to string words together.

“What makes you think I don’t know how good these pants make my ass look?” You smirk just a little, screwing up all of your courage to peer up at him. “But really, this outfit is comfortable.”

“Comfortable is not how you’re making me feel, honey.” There’s a heat in his gaze as his voice rasps out the words. “But maybe we can both get a little more comfortable and have a cup of coffee together?”

Only two people will ever know if your hand strays right over the seam at the front of his jeans as you walk away. “I’d love to, but maybe you need to take a few minutes in seclusion, Mr. Chicken.”

You feel giddy as you walk away because things like this don’t just happen to girls like you. You don’t flirt with men you've just met. And you definitely do not brush over the dicks of men you've just met! The counter is nearly empty as you walk up, and you know Em has clocked onto the fact that your hands are surprisingly empty of books.

“Hiya, Paper!” You roll your eyes only a little. Buy a stack of paperbacks once a week from a bookstore for months, and this is exactly what you’ll be nicknamed. “No books today?”

“Hey, Em. Can I get a latte, please? And whatever the gentleman in the Hawaiian shirt orders is on me.” You grin at the sight of her eyebrows ticking up until they’re nearly in her hair.

“What has our sweet little Paper been doing today, huh?” You shrug just a little, grinning as she hands you your drink. “I’ve been reading, Em!”

“Of course you have!” You’re laughing as you make your way to a table for two in the corner.

You’re smiling outright when Rooster swaggers out of the shelves a few minutes later, and Em clocks the Hawaiian shirt on his broad frame. She’s half drooling when he orders an Americano. As she turns to make his drink, you get the messages in short order.

What the fuck, Paper!

This is the man you’re buying a coffee for?

Damn, girl! I’m going to need all of the details. STAT!

You put the device away only when the chair opposite yours slides out, and Rooster settles in. You'd promised a full detailing of the encounter to Em, and you wouldn't be surprised if Lara interrogates you the next time you see her as well.

“So, obviously, you come here often, then.” He’s smirking as he sips on his coffee.

“Yup!” You’re just as chipper as you blow over the surface of your own mug.

“You come here often enough that one of the owners just threatened me with the loss of my…” He pauses like he’s not sure if he should laugh or cry as he says the words, “...crown jewels…” and grimaces before continuing, “...if I hurt you.”

“She also called you Paper. Why’s that, Honey?”

You lean forward, feeling just a little more confident as he mirrors your position. “Tit for tat, Bradshaw, if that even is your last name. You tell me something about yourself, I tell you something about myself.”

“Deal?” You stretch your hand out and gasp when he takes it and sets it down to the side of the mugs.

“Deal.”

“I’ll start.” Your faces are inches apart from each other. He's whispering, and you have to lean forward even further so you don't miss a single word. “My name’s Bradley Bradshaw. I didn’t want to use my real name while narrating those books.”

“And Rooster was what you decided on?” His chuckle and yours rise into the air in perfect harmony.

“It was a nickname I got in college. I was always the only guy in the dorm up before 9 A.M.”

You take turns sharing your life stories and quite a few secrets until your coffees are long gone. You find yourself telling him all about how you got your nickname and how you’ve been feeling stuck for the longest time. With Bradley, it doesn’t feel like another boring first date. If it weren’t for the faint hiss of the espresso machine and the clank of mugs and cutlery you wouldn't think there was another person in the room but the two of you. There are butterflies in your stomach, and your entire body shudders when he hooks his ankle around yours and tugs you closer. That point of contact has your blood turning into molten lava in your veins as his hand trails gentle patterns across your upturned palm.

“Hey, Paper?” It takes an inhuman effort to drag your eyes away from the magic Bradley Bradshaw is committing just with your hands in his own.

“Hey, Em.” As you say her name, you realize how dark it is. “The store’s closing, isn’t it?”

“Yup. It actually closed an hour ago. You looked so cute together that I called Lara, and we made an executive decision to let the two of you keep talking for just a bit longer.”

Your face feels extra hot because Em’s looking at you like she’s liable to start laughing at any moment. You don’t want to know what your hair looks like now, not after hours of running your fingers through it. It’s probably even more of a mess than it was when you literally ran into Bradley hours ago. A great first impression, right?

“Let me settle up then, Em.” If your voice is hushed and a little more subdued, it’s because reality and panic are settling in.

“No, sweetheart.” Bradley’s voice is even firmer as he stands up and places a hand on your arm. “Today is on me, I insist.”

You know exactly when Em puts it together, because her eyes widen to a comical degree. She was the biggest reason why you bought the book in the first place. “You’re Rooster Bradshaw!”

For the second time today, you find yourself laughing along with Bradley, though the sounds of his laughter doesn’t put you at ease in quite the same way as it did earlier. Em’s laughing too, and she looks gorgeous in the golden light. At least she’s put together in a way you’re so obviously not. Maybe you should have taken your mother’s well-meant advice when you were younger - dress to impress, for you never know who you’re going to meet. But you haven’t taken that advice, choosing to dress simply and comfortably. It works when you can’t wear any makeup when you work in a laboratory and when all of your nice clothes would be at risk of chemical spills at worst and covered by a lab coat at best. So you walk through life in a swirl of well-worn jeans, tee-shirts, yoga pants, tank tops, camisoles, sneakers and sandals. There are a few dressier items in your closet, but they’re so far in the back that you haven’t worn them in probably a year and a half. Em’s cute outfit and wavy, non-greasy hair probably feel like a breath of fresh air to him. The same goes for the timber of her voice and how she sounds so elegant.

If you didn't know any better (because you know Em, you do), you'd think that the words the two of them are sharing by the counter now are flirtier than settling up a bill. It doesn’t help the green, envious monster sitting on your shoulder, though. Nor does it help when you run to the restroom and take a look at yourself in the mirror. You look worse than you thought you did. Your face is wan and pale, the bags under your eyes have bags, and your hair is so greasy that it lays limp when you release it from your bun. Your lips are chapped, and fuck, how did you manage to drip coffee onto yourself?! You only drank one cup! What's left to show you that you've made a huge fool of yourself?

Your hands shake as you splash water on your face and put your hair back in its sad bun again. Just a little longer and you'll be home, wallowing in peace at yet another failed potential relationship. At least the water has brought a blush to your cheeks and cleaned the worst of the smudges off your glasses. Bradley probably has Em's phone number by now, right? It's probably best not to get your hopes up too high, else you find yourself falling from a prodigious height.

Instead, you're pleasantly surprised to see him still in the shop.

“Hey!” His face lights up when he sees you, and you're sure your earlier pep-talk about managing your expectations hasn’t worked at all. This is going to hurt. “So, I know talking to a stranger for hours at a coffee shop probably isn't the best first date. So would you maybe want to go on a real one sometime soon?”

“Y-you're serious?” He smiles and hands you his phone, unlocked.

“Put your number in there, Paper.” Your mind's not working at all as you type the ten digits in.

“Why me?”

His smile is warm and fond as he takes the phone back, types something and hits send. Your notification tone goes off soon after.

“It's not every day I run into a pretty girl listening to me reading a romance novel who doesn't fawn all over me once they realize who I am. It's been nice talking to you. I feel like you're the first person in a long time to see Bradley, not Rooster.”

He holds the door open for you, a hand finding its way to the small of your back as he walks you out to your car. He even opens the door for you, a chivalrous action which has your heart flip-flopping in your chest. “Baby doll?”

“Yeah?” He takes advantage of the height difference between you to tip your face up as he feathers a kiss across the apple of your cheek.

“It helps that your ass looks damn good in those yoga pants!”

You're laughing despite yourself as you drive away. Maybe audiobooks aren't as bad as you think? Or, well, at least their narrators aren't.

I DO NOT CONSENT TO HAVE MY WORK POSTED, TRANSLATED, OR PUBLISHED ON ANY SITES OTHER THAN HERE, ON WATTPAD, OR ON AO3 BY ME. IF YOU SEE MY WORKS ANYWHERE OTHER THAN HERE, ON WATTPAD, OR AO3, THEN THEY HAVE BEEN POSTED WITHOUT MY PERMISSION AND I WILL BE WORKING TO TAKE THEM DOWN.

Taglist:

@desert-fern @horseshoegirl @dakotakazansky @sarahsmi13s @teacupsandtopgun @footprintsinthesxnd @roosterforme @beyondthesefourwalls @mak-32 @thedroneranger @chaoticassidy @shanimallina87 @kmc1989

#star writes #top gun fanfic #top gun fanfiction #top gun maverick fanfic #top gun maverick fanfiction #bradley bradshaw x reader #rooster x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #top gun imagine #bradley bradshaw imagine #rooster imagine #bradley rooster bradshaw imagine #bookmark my heart

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apomaro-mellow · 1 month

Text

Honestly I was thinking about the end of ofmd s1 and it evolved to this. Steddie; omegaverse

Uhhh, loosely set in the Regency era but not particularly important, trigger warnings for sexual assault, use of date rape drugs

He should have never met Edgar Munson. Society dictated that their paths should never cross. That there would always be at least five degrees of separation between them. But the hands of fate were a stronger force. One that saw fit to have Steve find himself making polite conversation with an alpha below his station. Polite conversation turned to familiarity, which then turned to scandalous flirting, which then became a secret courtship.

Steve received the gifts from his beloved under some sort of cover. No one could know about their relationship. Even the nest offering, the last gift before an official engagement, had to be hidden. Of course they couldn't be publicly wed, not with Steve's family name, not on this continent.

That was how Eddie filled his head with visions of the New World. A place where they could be free and make their own lives. A land where no one knew how different they were.

"Just imagine it", Eddie had said, one morning after a night of lovemaking. "You, me, a pup or two perhaps, and a little corner of our own."

"Mmm, you paint a pretty picture", Steve said while playing with Eddie's hair. And it was a lovely thought. "But how's about three or four? Or maybe even five? I always wanted a big family."

He imagined children frolicking in fields, perfect mixtures of his and Eddie's features. Blissful as they were unaware of the pressures of high society that their dame had come from. Steve would give up the extravagance for all the love Eddie was able to store in this cramped room in a bed that just barely fit them both.

"Whatever my love desires", Eddie kissed him. "Just promise me that you'll run away with me."

"To the ends of the earth", Steve promised, sealing it with a kiss.

As Steve got dressed, Eddie did his damndest to keep him here, where he had eyes laid on him.

"The boat will leave at sunrise tomorrow. You may as well stay."

"If I spend the whole day here, my father will send out a search party. We need to keep suspicion low if I am to be spirited away by you."

"'Spirited away'? By me? That's an odd way of saying you're taking us on a whirlwind trip across the ocean." Considering Steve put up the money for their passage and would be footing most of the bills until they were officially set up with jobs in America, it was more like Steve was taking Eddie on the trip.

"Either way, it would be prudent if I went home and treated today as if it were absolutely average." Meanwhile, an energy would buzz within Steve the whole time.

He was dressed and at the door while Eddie was still in his underthings, holding him tight. Steve was no better, loathe to let him go. How he wished for just one day the hours would pass faster so that they could start their new lives together.

"You have to let me go eventually, love."

"But what if I don't? Steve...my moon and my stars, why part when we will just see each other again?"

"You know why."

"I've got a bad feeling. I've read too many novels where lovers parted with a vow to meet again and they almost never do."

"You know novels rot the mind", Steve said. "And our lives are not fiction. You'll see. I'll go home, have some tea with mother, rebuff Sir Hagan yet again, and get through one last dinner before going off to bed."

Then, under guide of moonlight, he would meet Eddie at the docks just down the street. They could hear the gulls and sailors from here, it was so close they could both taste it.

Eddie's eyes were closed, giving a silent prayer that it would be so. A hope that the only hitch in their plan would be Steve getting seasick. Finally, Steve left and all Eddie had to do was double check what he was packing. There were a few clothes, a couple of items his parents owned before their passing that he was sure his uncle would want to see.

Wayne had gone to the New World just a few years ago, wanting to make the trip before 'his old bones gave out', or so he said. Eddie let out a wistful sigh, getting by as he imagined introducing Steve to his uncle. And hopefully, there would be a bundle of good news on the way. They would be at sea for a few months, after all.

------------------

Steve managed to sneak back into his room, no problem, but the moment he did, he could tell something was off. Steve's nest as usually immaculate, but he caught a whiff of something that shouldn't be there. Tossed right onto his pillow was a monogrammed handkerchief that stunk of Tommy.

He let out a scoff of disgust and picked it up, intending to put it away when he noticed one of his drawers was left open and had been rifled through. In a panic, Steve went towards it to confirm what he already knew. Eddie's nest offering had been a simple piece of cloth that he had scented. A small scrap that Steve imagined putting in a quilt one day.

Gone.

"Ah, there he is, the man of the hour."

Tommy came walking in from Steve's boudoir, right into his bedroom unannounced. Steve was knocked off his axis at the impropriety and even more so as he began to put the pieces together.

"What is this? Wh-why are you here? In my room? I don't understand."

"Don't be so anxious, Stevie. I was bound to find my way in here eventually. Your father was so kind to allow me in so that I could surprise you with my gift."

"My father?", Steve hissed, betrayed. It was all about being proper and following the right customs until doing the opposite suited one, wasn't it? The numerous times his father told him to stay on the straight and narrow, to never allow an alpha to skip steps with him. And now!?

"You haven't even giving me a single courting gift prior. I haven't even given you leave to court me." Then the open drawer came back to his attention. "Have you been going through my things?"

"Found something interesting while I was leaving my gift. Seems somebody snuck in a piece of trash", Tommy pulled Eddie's cloth from his pocket and Steve immediately lunged for it.

Tommy tried to move back but in his desperation Steve overpowered him and took it back, dropping the other handkerchief. Tommy watched as his own favor sat on the ground.

"You really are fucking a peasant, aren't you?"

"I think that's enough, Mr. Hagan", Steve's father, a Mr. Martin Harrington, entered the room.

"How could you let him into my room!?", Steve accused.

"Your room? Now I do believe this house is in my name. And I am within my rights to allow Mr. Hagan into any room I please. As for the courting, I have already given my permission for him to do so. And he has already given you all the gifts required. They're right their in your antechamber. You would have seen them, had you been in your room last night."

Steve held the cloth to his heart. He didn't like where this was going. What the last gift was supposed to mean. "You can't expect me to marry him."

"Oh you will, in about three days time."

"You don't think people will be suspicious about the short engagement?"

"Everyone knows that Mr. Hagan's had his eye on you. And you, of course, have not been entertaining any other suitors", Mr. Harrington's eyes narrowed on what Steve held. "Young love is so passionate these days. I highly doubt anyone will bat an eye at it. It's best you forget about all else and prepare for your wedding. Your mother wants it to be a grand affair."

"Father please-"

"As a matter of fact, I see no reason not to have you both live as newly weds now. Mr. Hagan can stay here until the wedding, where you will be housed in his estate. Keep my Steve out of trouble", he said to Tommy.

Tommy nodded. "Of course."

Steve wanted to cry out but knew it would do him no good. He spent the whole day, trying to plan some sort of escape. But there was always someone with him. That someone was usually Tommy, who looked like he was fine marrying Steve with a broken leg. Night fell and Tommy laid himself in Steve's nest. The one place he had felt safe besides Eddie's arms. Ruined.

Steve opted to sleep in the other room, on a couch most certainly not meant for sleeping. Tommy only urged him a little, seemingly assured that Steve would come around eventually. Steve checked the window and of course there was a man guarding down below. He didn't even have to check the hallway, hearing heavy boots pass over his door every few minutes, making sure no one was coming in or out.

Steve felt his heart clench as the hours pass and the first rays of sun began to shine.

-----------------

Eddie was waiting. The gangway was right behind him and the crew was ready to shove off. He knew only death would keep Steve from being here. Eddie was dreading something worse than death when he saw Jason Carver of all people stepping out of a carriage, looking smug as always.

"Waiting for someone, freak?"

"Where is Steve?", Eddie demanded, cutting through the bullshit.

"He has other more important things to attend to. Marriage can be quite time consuming business. I'm here to make sure you get on that boat."

"Like hell I'm leaving without him!"

Any fight Eddie put up was tamped down by the two lugs Carver had brought along, muscling him into a tight hold as they tied him up with rope and gagged him. Jason only put his hands on him to procure the boarding passes.

"He'll only be needing one of these", Jason said to the captain as Eddie was carried on board, struggling. "You can untie him once you're a good distance from the shore."

Eddie was screaming his lungs out from the gag in his mouth but it was anyone's guess as to what he was actually saying. The captain shook his head, sympathetic, but not enough to help Eddie out or get involved in any way. About an hour into the voyage, he was released and the first thing he did was try and jump overboard.

"Best to let go of whatever you just left behind", the captain said, patting his shoulder as a couple of sailors held him back from jumping into the sea.

"The love of my life is still there! He needs me! They're gonna...fuck...they're gonna..." Eddie knew what awaited Steve in his family had discovered them. He laid his head against the wood, determined to find his way back to him. He knew the captain wouldn't let him take any of the rowboats, and the crew kept watch on him like they expected him to steal it.

Their plan could still work. It didn't matter if they forced him into marriage, Steve would still love him. Eddie was just getting a headstart on building their new life.

-----------------------

The prospect of marrying Tommy under duress made him sick to his stomach but not knowing Eddie's fate made him feel worse. Steve didn't want to believe that Eddie would leave without him, but the alpha himself had admitted there wasn't anything left for him in this town. With him having an uncle overseas, Steve didn't think Eddie planned to stay much longer, even if they hadn't planned to elope.

But if he was still here, he would have shown his face by now, wouldn't he? He wouldn't leave Steve here all alone. Especially when the wedding announcement went out. Steve held out hope, even as his wedding day came, that Eddie would burst in like a blaze and whisk him away.

As if reading his thoughts, his mother brought it up while preparing him for the day. He had mostly tuned her out. She seemed determined to ignore the breach of courting customs in favor of the fact that her only child was finally being wed. A load off her shoulders apparently. But she started talking about her worries about whoever Steve had been running around with and that brought him back in.

"Well, thank the Lord, Mr. Carver put him on a boat. We won't need to worry about him anymore."

"He what?"

"Shipped him right off. Now you only have to think about keeping Mr. Hagan happy. And all the handsome pups you'll have of course."

Steve was a ghost at his own wedding and if anyone noticed, they didn't say anything. He didn't come back into himself until night fell and Tommy tried to make him perform his wifely duties. Steve smacked him across the face at the first slight and kicked him out of the bedroom.

He kept the cold shoulder up for about a week before both his mother and father reprimanded him. Told him that after marriage, his next task was to let his husband lay his seed and continue the family line. The last thing Steve wanted was Tommy's hands on him, much less his seed in him. But he supposed he could let the man sleep in his own bedroom.

Tommy made his favorite tea as a peace offering, placating Steve with sweet words.

"You are my wife, my partner in everything. I only want you to be happy."

Steve wanted to believe that, he really did. And he was tired of putting up a fight. So he drank the tea. It fogged his mind and the rest of the night seemed like a hazy dream. And not a good one. His suspicions were confirmed when he awoke with an ache in his lower body.

Steve started to pack a bag right then and there. He couldn't stay here. Not if this was to be his life. Tears were streaming down his face at the violation. Tommy was just standing to the side, looking at him like he was a petulant child.

"What do you think you're doing?"

"Leaving! Like I should have done in the first place."

"And where the hell are you going to go? A runaway omega with no skills, probably with a pup on the way?"

Steve froze and Tommy grinned, advancing on him from behind. He put his chin on Steve's shoulder and the omega whirled around, trying to put space between them.

"I went in deep last night. I kept you knotted and filled. I know it took. You leave now and you'll have no one to help you with our son."

Steve put a hand to his stomach. He didn't want to imagine trying to make his way and raise a child at the same time. No one would want to take him in, an omega with nothing to his name.

"What would you even do anyway? You've got no skills to speak of. Unless you want to be hired based on your bedroom skills."

Steve was too stunned to speak. He hated agreeing to Tommy, so he stormed out. But out just meant out into another part of the Hagan estate. Just another wing of this gilded cage.

Months passed and Steve's belly grew and he didn't know whether or not he hoped this pup was Eddie's. If there was any doubt about it being Tommy's they might give it away, or worse. It wasn't supposed to be like this. His first child was to be met with nothing but glee in a land as big as their dreams. But now he was dreading every development.

Even as he went into labor, it felt like it was happening to someone else. It wasn't until the baby was in his arms, that he realized what he had to do. Regardless of the true parentage, this child deserved all the love in the world. And considering how Tommy was, it would all have to come from Steve. He gave birth to a beautiful girl, so he was able to escape Tommy trying to name their first child after himself.

And so she was christened Octavia Hagan. And Steve worked his hardest to do right by her. It was never easy, not when his heart was a thousand miles away. But by the time she was two, Steve was sure of it. The big brown eyes and the light curl to her hair was enough proof. She was Eddie's. But it was also just enough to deny any accusations that might come his way, not that there was any.

Steve scrounged what he could and hid the money in a bookcase in Octavia's nursery. He might not be able to guarantee her the best quality of life, but anything was worth freedom. And perhaps they might even find Eddie one day. It was this that had Steve holding out hope.

---------------------

It took five years, but Eddie returned. he was dressed in clothes much finer than he'd left in, disembarking a vessel in which he had voyaged in first class. Being a musician that sold out venues had its perks. He held the marriage announcement that had come to the shores years ago. The marriage of Thomas and Stephen Munson, nee Harrington, and then later the birth announcement.

Eddie was here to make good on a promise.

Steve was none the wiser. All he knew was that Tommy was taking him out to see a famed violinist Edgar Wainson for his final night before the man took his show to Paris. Tommy was only going for appearances. His opinion on culture was whatever everyone else thought.

Steve had an appreciation for it, remembering how Eddie would play his fiddle both when they were alone and to earn some extra coin on streets and in taverns. He instilled it in Octavia as well, teaching her piano and allowing her to toss some coins to the street musicians they passed when Tommy wasn't around to scold them about it.

So he brought her along. Where he went, his pup went. Even now, Steve thought if he took his eyes off her for too long, something bad would happen.

The show started and the violinist took the stage and Steve's jaw dropped. Like a man possessed, he stood from his seat, then went into the aisle. Eddie's playing slowed as he watched someone approach. He stopped altogether when he saw who it was. He ignored the gasps as he dropped the violin and jumped off the stage to meet Steve who had broke into a run to meet him.

"I'm sorry!", Steve exclaimed the moment their arms went around each other. "I'm sorry I wasn't there I was-"

"I know, I know my love. I'm sorry I wasn't back sooner I was-"

"I know. God in Heaven Eddie, I know. But you're here now."

"And I'm never letting you go", Eddie promised, kissing him so hard, Steve thought his lips might be bruised, but he didn't care.

"GET OFF!!", Tommy bellowed, struggling through the row of people to get to them.

Unbidden thanks to her smile size and thought to go around the other way where there were less people, Octavia ran up to them, grabbing at Steve's pant leg.

"Mother?"

"Oh, a little one?", Eddie looked down, clearing his throat.

Steve whispered in Eddie's ear. "Your little one."

Eddie's eyes got big as he looked back and forth between Steve and Octavia. He felt something swell in his chest.

"I'll see you hanged for this, you vagrant!", Tommy yelled, finally at them.

Eddie's eyes narrowed. He could only imagine what he'd put Steve through if he was still like this. He still had a promise to make good on.

"Stevie, my muse, my light, there is a vow I still intend to keep."

"Eddie...."

The was murmuring from the audience, unsure of what to make of any of this. It was certainly an odd night at the concert hall. Eddie held Steve's hands, then got down on his knees.

"Runaway with me. Tonight, right now, both of you."

They hadn't packed or prepared anything. There was hardly any money on him and wherever they went, there was sure to be a chase, at least for a while. It wouldn't be easy, but Steve had already missed his chance once. He wouldn't miss it again.

"On your feet", he ordered. "You've got to get me to an altar."

Tommy's protests were unheard, even as he chased after the three of them. Eddie took the first carriage they saw, barreling down the road. Steve was surprised when they came upon the Hagan home. But Eddie told him he wouldn't let Steve leave without taking anything important. He wanted a moment to assure Eddie that he was the most important thing, but Tommy would be hot on their heels the moment he got a carriage. Hopefully the confusion of the headliner running off would give them time.

Steve got things for both himself and Octavia, including directing her on where to find his stash of money. They then went right to the docks, finding a boat that was shoving off that night.

"Where are you headed?", Eddie asked.

"Spain", was the answer.

"Perfect", Steve said, giving enough money for all three and also to expedite the departure.

Tommy would either be expecting France or the Americas. Only when they were settled below deck and the shore was a tiny dot in the dark did Steve's nerves settle. Octavia was pressed to his side and he kissed the top of her head. It was probably even more of a whirlwind for her, running off with this man she had never met. Time to change that.

"Sweetheart, this is Eddie. In truth, he is your real father."

"Pleasure to meet you madame", Eddie gave a sweeping bow, making her giggle.

"Are we all going to live together now?", she asked.

"Til the end of our days", Eddie promised.

"What about father?", she asked Steve, referring to Tommy.

"God willing, we'll never see him again."

It took them the whole night, plus a day and a half to get to Spain. The sun was setting, but they managed to find a church. They were wary of how they might be received, but the man who saw to them had a milky eye with a scar over it, so he must've had a well lived life. Octavia was their very willing witness, and so they were wed in a port town that they didn't know the name of.

"Well, it took longer than we planned, but we're finally starting our lives together", Eddie said as they settled in the beds of an inn. Octavia was already deep in her own slumber in her own cot.

Eddie was laying in bed ready to snuff out the light as Steve got in next to him. When he did, only the moon from the window lit their features. Steve grabbed Eddie's face and pulled him in for a kiss. One that was slow and deep as his hand started drifting down.

"Here?", Eddie whispered, apprehensive but doing nothing to stop him. He glanced at the child on the other side of the room.

"She sleeps like the dead. Besides, you owe me a wedding night."

#did yall catch the wayne-son in there?#apo writes #stranger things #steddie #a/b/o #omegaverse

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