#Timothée smut

[why-say]

{i really wanted to used this gif}

Timothée x reader imagine

Warning: smut, shower sex,

Word count: 785

I started an etsy account selling phone cases so check that out maybe :)

~~~

You were in the shower. You’d had a long day and ended it with a work out so you needed the break. The steam of the shower helping you relax.

The apartment felt cold with Timothée gone, he was away on set for the next few days and you were already missing him. You were thinking about what the evening would’ve looked like if he were with you.

He would have cooked you both dinner, some kind of pasta and you would’ve stuffed your belly while watching a cheesy 80’s movie with him. Maybe a round of rough fucking if you were lucky. You missed him so much already in the short time you both had spent together.

Deep in thought you barely noticed a body step into the bathroom. You had a standing shower with glass walls but they were all steamed up. It wasn’t until you heard the door slide open that you opened your eyes, trying to avoid the spray of the shower.

You couldn’t believe it. Timothée was there. You were so confused but before you could ask why he was home, he spun you around. You felt his naked body pressing behind you and wondered when he had time to strip. It was a silly thing to think first but it’s all you could think about with his hard cock pressing between you two.

“I had to come back baby I missed you so much.” He whispers, his breath fanning over your ear. Your pulse quipped like how it always did with him around.

Timothée moved his hand to the back of your neck, tilting your head up to give you a warm kiss. You lost all words when it came to him. He knew what you wanted though. And he didn’t make you wait long.

He picks up both of your thighs, bringing them to circle around your waist. Your shower was long forgotten but something better had replaced it. Timothée wasted no time slipping into you. His thick cock filling you in ways you couldn’t describe.

You let out a small moan of content. You heard Timothée release a grunt from the back of his throat. He was working small soft strokes into you. Timothée usually was rough from the beginning till the end so soft kisses and slow strokes wasn’t like him. It was different for him and before you could say anything he spoke.

“Missed you baby, leme savour you before giving you what you want.” He was speaking incoherently but you understood.

You felt your heart melt a little more. You whined and nodded your head. Timothée still steadily fucking you. You loved how he usually fucked but you loved this too. To be honest you loved anything Timothée did.

You felt your lower half tense, Timothée still working you to your orgasm. You could feel every inch, vein and tweak of his cock, all of it adding to your sensations. Timothée put his lips back to yours, your moans going straight down his throat. It was like he wanted you so bad he wanted to swallow ever noise you made.

You came. Timothée didn’t follow, infact his cock felt harder than before.

“Fuck baby your cunt is gripping me so tight” Timothée grunted.

Your body was still shaking from your orgasm and he took that opportunity to start fucking into you faster. His hands pulling you off his cock only to then slam you back down. Moving your body like it was nothing.

You couldn’t stop shaking, Your stomach was aching but you knew you had more to give him. Your hands gripped his neck tighter, trying to hold onto his fast moving body.

He was fuçking you so fast you couldn’t even catch your breath, no need to when he would just take it again anyways.

You felt his cock twitch and knew he would cum soon and you couldn’t wait. All you could hear was moans worthy of the big screen and whines all coming from you. Timothées moans and grunts adding to the music you were creating.

The steam from the bathroom wasn’t helping you to think straight. All you knew was that you needed Timothees cum immediately.

“Please-“ Your pleading was cut short with an abrupt thrust, “Please please give me your cum.” You managed to let out.

“You want it? It’s all yours baby.” Timothée echos. The second you feel his warm cum you can’t help but follow him and cum again your self. Leaving you both panting and heavy breathing in the shower.

“Im never leaving again baby, never ever.” Timothée murmurs. You can barely hear him over your heart beating. You wondered how you got so lucky.

[imnotoverlyobsessive]

Return to the Water

Chapter One: Like Blood in the Water

AO3 one two three four five six seven eight nine

We barely met, and still I cross the street to your door.— Vanessa Carlton, Hands on Me

Humans were dangerous. Human men were the most dangerous of them all.

Lea knew that. And they scared her, but, well… humans were fascinating, the men in particular.

Especially one specific man. She didn’t want to get any closer to him—or any other human, really—other than watching him on his boat from her place behind a rock.

It wasn’t just his legs that fascinated her (although for a mermaid such as herself, they were very interesting). It was everything about him. When he was on the boat, his chest was often bare, and she could see how flat it was, so unlike her own chest. His form was long and slender, also unlike her own body. He drank often, slender fingers wrapped around a bottle, and he seemed to enjoy inhaling on a small white stick, exhaling smoke. He had a mate, she rather thought, for he frequently grabbed at a girl with black hair and skin that was almost orange. That was fine; she just liked to observe him, watch his dark hair curl over his brow, hear his musical laugh. 

She watched him laugh and drink and smoke, her curls swirling around her like blood in the water.

In the early hours of the morning, before the sun had risen, he was alone on the deck, watching the waves and dancing along to music she couldn’t hear very well. 

Suddenly, out of nowhere, he turned around abruptly, but he was too close to the edge of the boat and couldn’t seem to keep his balance. He toppled overboard, hitting his head as he hurtled towards the dark water and hit it with a splash.

Lea’s breath caught, and she waited, watching to see if he’d come back up.

He didn’t.

He’ll die, she realized. No one else is here to help him. He will die.

She dove beneath the waves, her sapphire blue tail propelling her towards where the human was sinking deeper and deeper into the water.

How long could humans go without air? She didn’t know, but she didn’t want to risk it. Upon reaching him, she found he was infinitely more beautiful up close, even in the darkness of the water. 

Not taking the time to examine his features, she grabbed his arms and pulled him towards her. His hair swirled around his face as she leaned in to press her lips to his, exhaling into his mouth.

Within seconds, he took a deep, gulping breath, though he didn’t awaken.

She couldn’t get him back on his boat, but hopefully his mate would find him where she dragged him ashore.

Timothée came to slowly, the sound of the waves exacerbating the pounding in his head. Forcing himself up onto his hands, he examined the beach he was on. What had happened? Where was he? Where was Kylie? God, she’d be pissed if she woke up and he wasn’t in bed with her.

And then—

And then his eyes landed on a girl near the tide. She was gasping, wheezing, clearly trying to turn herself back around to face the ocean again. He was pretty sure he’d fallen into the water; had she saved him? Shit, he should thank her. 

Wait, was that a tail? Did this girl have a fucking tail? Weird costume, but okay.

He couldn’t see her face, concealed as it was with red curls that dripped onto the wet sand.

“Hey, are— are you alright?” he asked, his voice hoarse from the saltwater. The girl’s head snapped up, dark brown eyes widening in horror. “You saved me, right?” He stumbled in his effort to stand. “Thank you. I dunno what would’ve happened if you hadn’t.” The girl—she was awfully pretty, actually, even with so little of her visible since she was propped up on her elbows that way—did nothing but look at him silently, so he added, “That’s a hell of a costume, by the way. The tail looks like it could be real.”

She looked panicked then, pushing on the sand in an apparent attempt to maneuver herself back towards the water.

“It’s okay,” he reassured her gently. “We should probably take the tail off so you can get to a doctor or something. Here, let me help—“

But when he stepped forward, his hand outstretched towards her, she bared her teeth in a hiss, and her tail flicked like a cat’s, almost.

He wondered how she managed that (and also why she’d hissed at him, because what the fuck?), but didn’t question it further. She’d saved him, so even if she was fairly weird, he needed to help her, too. “It’s okay,” he said again. “I’ll help. I won’t hurt you.”

She hissed again, pushing against the sand more frantically the closer he got to her. And then, when he finally brushed his fingertips against the skin of her bare shoulder, she collapsed back into the sand with a whimper.

Biiiiig thanks to my beta @lilmaymayy

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To be added, please ask 💗

[kteezy997]

The Emperor's Wife// Paul Atreides

Warnings: angst, unrequited love, slow burn kinda

"That princess shall have no more of me than my name. No child of mine nor touch nor softness of glance, nor instant of desire." The promise of Paul Atreides as he ascended your father's throne was held true for some time. But his words began to falter in time, against his will.

He married you, but remained loyal to his concubine, Chani. But he did acknowledge that you had a literary nature, and he entrusted you to sit in on his council meetings as Emperor. The more time you spent around each other, the more you became companions, and the more he relied on your mind to help him keep a balance of things.

You noticed as Paul started to become more relaxed around you. He'd even have a laugh with you now and then. It was clear that he valued your friendship as much as your ability to write and make sense of things.

One day Paul joked that Chani was his wife of passion and you were his intellectual wife. Your feelings had started to form into deep admiration for your husband, so his words were course against your ears. Though you knew that this was the way it had to be, it wasn't any easier to hear him say it.

But there was a look from him, a look where he scanned you, slowly, from head to toe. Your special training had kicked in. You could feel it; it was desire. He thought his momentary glance would go undetected, but that was nary the case.

All the late evenings in the council room, all the discussions you had about history and his interest in your writings, it all bubbled up to his vow being broken. You caught his gaze in a meeting later, and his green eyes could no longer lie to you. He was curious and desirous of you. But he could not do anything about it. He simply could not act on it.

But you, on the other hand, were tired of the intellectual relationship. This feeling was different for you, and you never expected to fall for him. Your body ached, your skin burned for your husband. Even if it was just once, you had to have him.

You hated to admit to yourself the jealousy you felt toward his Fremen woman. You wanted to feel what Chani felt. Just one full moment of Paul's desire. You needed his touch. To exchange passionate breaths with him. To have the weight of the handsome Emperor on top of you. To have his eyes on you, and only you.

..........

You ventured to Paul's sietch, into the private apartment he shared with Chani. The Fremen in the village knew you, so they did not try to stop you, or persuade you to leave. They welcomed you with respect, as you were indeed Muad’Dib’s wife.

The room was quite plain and modest for an Emperor and his woman. The bed, however, looked cozy with glow globes on either side. The scent of cinnamon and coffee hung in the air, laced with the spice melange.

You hoped he'd come soon. You hoped he would be the first one in, and not Chani. You didn't know what to say to her, if that would be the case. She had always been pleasant toward you when you were around her, but you didn’t know if her attitude would remain the same if she knew you wanted to bed her man.

You hoped that he wouldn't be harsh towards you; that he wouldn’t be angry about you invading the space he shared with his concubine. You liked to think that you had broken his walls and exposed the tender side of him. You sat on the bed, waiting.

Finally, you heard footsteps approaching, there was a tired huff from the person outside the door, and you knew the voice instantly. Paul came in, pulling off his still suit the second he entered. He didn't see you at first. You saw his shoulders and chest as he rid himself of the rubbery material. He was strong, with hard muscles and pale skin with minor scars here and there.

You could smell the dirt and sweat that he carried. It did not deter you in the slightest, but made you more eager.

He could sense you there. You knew he could.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, without even turning to face you.

You took a shaky breath, then answered, "I wanted to see you, Paul."

He finished freeing his arms from the constrictive suit, turning to look at you sitting on his bed. "And why?"

You were excited just seeing his shoulders, but now you saw his naked chest, his hard pectoral muscles and small nipples. You nearly shuddered with need. "I-uhm," I want you. "I wanted to make sure that you saw how bright and beautiful the two moons look this evening. And maybe you'd like to see my latest Muad'Dib chronicle?"

Paul nodded, "Hm." He stepped over to the window, looking up at the moons, "They are quite beautiful tonight."

You rose from the bed, joining him by the window. You could really feel his presence now, as you usually didn't get quite this close to him. His scent was stronger, too. "I brought my latest writings. If you want to read."

"Sure. You may leave them here."

He was so polite, but never overly kind. He couldn't disrespect Chani. But you so wanted things to change between you and your husband.

"Paul, I really came here to talk to you about something."

He took his eyes off the night sky outside his window and looked into your eyes. "Go on."

Your heart started thumping in your chest, you cleared your throat. "Well, I do not wish to overstep, but I think you and I have both come to enjoy our time together. I think it is safe to say that we are good friends now." You got stuck for second as you got a close look of the sweat glistening on his skin in the glowing light of the dark room.

Paul softly smiled, giving you a nod to keep going.

"But, I need you to know that no matter how amazing the moons might be on a starry night, it is no match for the way I feel when I look at you."

His expression fell, and he shook his head, "Y/n, please. I am very flattered. I appreciate you, and I care for you."

You butted in, "I can sense that you desire me, Paul. You've already broken your oath. I know that you feel distant towards your concubine, and I wonder if it has anything to do with how you feel about me."

He chuckled, walking away from you, "I thought you said you didn't wish to overstep?"

"I cannot help it. I'm sorry. But you know my training." You genuinely didn't want to disrupt anything between him and Chani.

He ran his hand over his face, pushing away the exhaustion of the day, trying to make sense of his own feelings as well. "Y/n, you aren't wrong. Chani knows that my sentiments for you have shifted."

So he admits it!

"You haven't bedded her for weeks now, have you?" you prodded, carefully.

"No," he stepped closer to you, towering over you by several inches, "not that it is any of your business."

"I don't want to make you angry, Paul. But I have seen the way you look at me, the way you brush passed me during council. You've preferred spending more and more time with me lately." You took a step forward this time, just a foot's length away from him.

Paul let his guard down, knowing that you were right about everything. His face softened, and he brought his hand up to caress your face. His hand had been roughed up by the wind and sand if the desert, but you could still see yourself melting against it as he touched you.

Paul went on to say, "You should know by now how I feel for you. But it cannot be. I made a promise. I don't ever want to be cruel to you, my y/n." he licked his dry lips, and you noticed just how blue his eyes were as a result of spice addiction. "I did not marry you for things such as love or children, you know that."

"Yes, I know." you sighed, having heard that piece of information a hundred times during your marriage. "My husband, you are a loyal man. I admired you for that, but I don't wish for anything more than the same love that you have for your concubine. You can share that tenderness with me."

He said nothing, but kept his hand on your cheek, gazing at you so fondly.

You could sense him breaking for you. "Paul," you leaned closer, placing your hand on his exposed chest, "I have seen the way your eyes narrow at me when I bow before you as my Emperor."

Then, his hand wound tightly into your hair, and his lips were being smashed against yours. He pulled you against him, he moaned into your kiss. His hands were on your body, sliding up the curves of your hips.

Your body was electrified, you ran your hands through his hair, not caring how sweaty he was. The hunger was equal on both sides.

Paul pulled away suddenly, sighing as he turned away from you.

He was still wrestling in his mind, you knew it. "I need you." you said, melancholy taking over your tone as you started to believe he was going to refuse you completely, "I need my husband. I want to made love to by Muad'Dib." You went over to him, looking at his back you noticed a scar, larger than the others on his body. You wondered if the mark was result of a fall on a sand dune or maybe the consequence of riding the great sandworm. You reached out, cautiously running your finger along the scar.

He shivered at your touch, but he didn't shy away.

You decided that maybe this plan was fruitless, that he wouldn't, and never could love you the proper way in which a man loved his wife. "Paul, if you do not love me, I will leave now. You'll never see me come back to this place. I will accept being wrong. Things will go back as they were."

"No, please, don't go." he faced you again. He relaxed more, his body language and the look in his eyes was more at ease.

"Then stop me, my dear husband."

@gatoenlaciudad @thebetawolfgirl @musicandbooksaremyhappyplace @softhecreator @tchalamss @bitchyunknownuser @lixzey @kpopgirlbtssvt @ducktapebar

[theghostinyourwalls]

I wanna write so many things

[shockercoco]

Don't Mind Me

Timothee chalamet x reader

Warnings - 18+, smut, cockwarming, oral (fem receiving), slight somnophilia, overstimulation, needy!timothee

Word count - 1430

a/n - request: "could u write a smut abt cockwarming timothee all night and then he fucks u early in the morning plzzzzzzzzzz" - there may or may not be errors because I kept changing some of the writing lol. also sorry this took a while, and I hope you enjoy :)

You rarely get to see Timothee since he travels basically all year round, but when you do the two of you make sure to make the most of it. This time he’s only in town for a couple of days, and one of the first things he had said to you, after arriving unannounced at your front door, was that he just wanted to be close to you.

To any other person, Timothee’s statement would be taken as an innocent thought, but you knew the underlying meaning to his words. 

The two of you had found yourselves in your bed in between the sheets making up for all the sexting and phone sex – which you weren’t a huge fan of because you felt awkward doing it. When the two of you had exhausted yourselves in the best way possible, Timothee suggested keeping his cock inside of you throughout the night. He didn’t want to be disconnected from you yet, and with you feeling the same way, you agreed.

The two of you fell asleep in each other’s arms, your warm walls keeping him company while he slept. Sometime throughout the night the two of you had drifted apart to opposite sides of the bed, so him being removed from you went unnoticed. 

That is until Timothee woke up the following morning with the sun just rising and came to the realization that his brilliant idea of cockwarming came with repercussions.. He looks down to see his painfully hard length staring back at him through the white sheets. Timothee hesitates for a second before using a hand to squeeze his cock through the thin fabric, in hopes that it would be enough to make it go away, but of course it wasn’t. 

After switching to palming himself and not receiving enough satisfaction, he then spits into his hand and decides to stick his hand underneath the sheets to lightly stroking himself. His tip is an angry shade and he’s already leaking from the opening. He throws his head back against the pillow as he thrusts up into his own hand, beginning to feel miserable and pathetic.

It isn’t until you make a noise and shift a little in your sleep when Timothee glances over at you and remembers that you're beside him. He finally settles on the fact that he needs you and begins to sit up, his cock still in his hand. After all, you had talked about wanting him to use you in your sleep, so why not seize the opportunity?

“Fuck it,” he murmurs to himself.

Timothee tries to be quiet as he pushes the covers off of your body and slowly moves downwards. He carefully pushes your legs apart to reveal your pussy to him, your body still bare from the night before. His eyes roll at the sight in front of him and that smell that he loves before diving in and attaching his mouth to you.

He can’t help but moan to himself as he moves his tongue up and down your folds, savoring the taste. Not being able to wait anymore, Timothee sticks his tongue into your opening and begins to tongue-fuck you. Having you in his mouth only turns him on more though, so he starts to move his hips against the mattress, humping to relieve some of the tension between his own legs.

Meanwhile, in your sleep you’re having a wet dream, not knowing that your boyfriend is between your thighs causing said dream. Your eyes slowly flutter open and you take a look down to see Timothee with his eyes closed and his hips thrusting into the mattress as he pleasures you.

It takes a second for your brain to start running, but when you become aware of what's happening between your legs, you can’t help but feel turned on, and also a little confused. 

Timothee opens his eyes once he feels your body move as you prop yourself up on your elbows to get a good look at the situation unfolding. He pulls away from your folds with a pitiful expression on his face to say, “I’m sorry baby, I couldn’t help it.”

He doesn’t wait for you to answer as he attaches his mouth to you again and continues. You let out a small moan as his lips latch on to your flit and begin sucking. You glance over at the clock on your nightstand for the time only to realize it’s only seven o’clock in the morning.

“I guess it’s never too early to satisfy your needs,” you think.

After deciding that eating you out isn’t enough, Timothee removes his mouth from you and sits up on his knees, revealing his hard length to you. You notice the precum already seeping from his top and the veins bulging on the shaft. 

“I really need you,” Timothee tells you, looking as desperate as ever.

You cover up your smirk with a smile as you look up at him hovering. You nod. “Go ahead, it’s okay,” you say, and that’s all he needs to hear as he grabs himself in one hand, lines himself up, and plunges into you.

Both of your mouths fall open - his from finally being surrounded by your tight, warm walls, and yours from the shock of the sudden insertion.

Timothee lets out a strangled moan as he begins thrusting into you, helping himself to your welcoming walls. He wraps his arms around you and covers your body with his, and you open your legs wider to help him go deeper.

He plunges into you repeatedly with need as dips his head into your neck, filling your ear up with his whimpers and whines. You wrap your arms around him as he pushes you deeper and deeper into the mattress. The sound of his hips meeting yours echoes through the room, along with the wet sound of your pussy. 

“I’m going to cum,” he warns as his thrusts get faster and sloppier.

“Please do,” you tell him. 

It’s only a few moments later that he comes, holding your body tight and letting out a deep groan as he fills you with his load. He doesn’t stop there though, he continues thrusting into you despite now being sensitive, helping you chase your own high.

Your back arches into him as you orgasm nears, soon followed by you cumming around his cock as your body trembles under his.

“Fuck,”  Timothee whimpers as he feels your walls flutter and clench around him.

While you're coming down from your high, Timothee feels his second orgasm rising through his body. He decides to flip the two of you over, wanting you to ride him. 

“I can’t,” you whine, feeling weak and tired from your climax. 

“Please, baby,” he pleads up at you, giving your hips a squeeze as he bucks his hips up into you.

You hesitate but you give in to him, motivated by his desperation for your body. You place your hands on his chest as you begin to move, causing him to throw his head back into the pillows, his grip still on your hips.

Taking a glance down, you notice the remnants of his and your orgasm forming a white ring around the base of his cock.

Once Timothee notices your body starting to give out, he takes matters into his own hands and begins thrusting up into. Your mouth falls open at the pace, your body already undergoing overstimulation. 

When he reaches a hand down between your legs and begins rubbing circles on your clit, your body jerks from the added stimulation. The combination of his fingers on you and him moving inside of you is enough for you to instantly reach your climax, hitting you like a huge wave crashing into you and bringing you under. You collapse onto Timothee’s chest as your orgasm makes its way through your body, no longer having the energy to keep your body upright.

Timothee wraps his hands around your body, holding you firmly against his chest as he makes his way towards his second orgasm. You allow your body to go limp in his arms, letting him use you in whatever way he pleases.

As he cums, his hips stutter as he continues to thrust through his orgasm. You moan as you feel his warm load shoot into you for the second time and leak out of you and onto him. Once Timothee’s hips finally come to a stop, you stay lying on his chest, not ready for the feeling of him pulling out of your sensitive cunt.

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[ginnysgraffiti]

jealousy, unprotected sex, violence, anger, cursing, fingering, fainting, 18+

&. PAUL ATREIDES x yn

could you blame yourself?

no, not really.

not the way you claimed it, at least.

you always placed so much trust and respect in the visions that paul witnessed in his dreams, for they usually concerned the holy war or future events not clear to his complete awareness yet.

however, you never expected something like this.

you couldn't say exactly if it was due to the fact that you and paul had established an increasingly stronger connection and intimacy, but you were sure that it was definitely because of other factors.

paul and his intuitions had been (disturbingly) accurate for weeks, and your boyfriend was even able to see your sexual needs in his visions.

you liked it, yes. it turned you on like hell, and you knew it had the exact effect on him.

you recognized paul's gaze when he had visions of that kind, you glimpsed it through his hungry eyes and you experienced it when his strong hands destroyed your body.

you lived with a certain constant tension, but your inner self knew that you just wanted that moment to come.

"shut that fuck up! take my cock like the slut you are!!" paul's hand slapped your butt, causing a bitter tear to fall from your face.

this excited him greatly and with his other arm he twisted your legs around his waist, making you arch your back to welcome his wet and warm dick as deeply as you could.

you didn't know if it was your fault, but paul was so furious he would have swallowed you alive.

"look at me in my eyes, damn it! or do you want me to call him, uh? to call your beloved feyd rautha and make him fuck you like i do!?"

"paul-"

yet another thrust of his hips brought your hip bones to clash painfully with each other.

you left a loud and pleading moan but his quick fingers choked you in time and reduced it to a pathetic strangled scream.

"who's the one who touches herself while feyd's name slips down her tongue?! her damn fucking tongue! uh?!"

"p-...paul it was just y-y...your vision-"

deadly move.

the bed creaked and for a moment you imagined the springs surrendering to its bloody rhythm.

your boyfriend grabbed your hair mercilessly, almost detaching them from the roots, while his cock was destroying your inner walls beyond limit.

you were crying, but you were just choking on your own moans and sobs, like a sinful child.

it was just a vision, in fact...but now he was going so rough and raw that crying more made you feel real slut.

your sight was still granted to you, even if your retinas were caged in tears as hot as spice.

you could see him, see your boyfriend taking your pussy with a heavenly expression on your face, perhaps the one you wore in his dirty visions.

his mouth was wide open with pleasure and his eyes closed with excitement. he moved his hips for his own burning pleasure, making you aching, sore and wet all in.

"i don't know what would turn me on more, maybe you really deserve to end up in his maniacal arms! you would regret it of course, but it would be too late to go back!!"

you wished somebody could hear you for your own sake.

the wet and sticky tip of his cock was roaming roughly inside you, but the initial pleasure had reduced you to an unbearable burning sensation. you could feel your chest confiding with every sob, but his hands would travel again, landing on your throat already full of purple, almost black bruises.

"you're so soaked, you little whore. you don't even deserve it, on my sheets!!" he groaned, his own anger causing every vein to pump on the smooth skin of his neck, making him there red with anger every time the jugular pumped before your eyes.

he grunted like an animal too proud for the zoo. he wanted to destroy you until you couldn't stand up anymore.

humiliation.

you could feel his tip reaching the deepest places. you knew that paul didn't care about protections in these extreme cases (even if it was the first time he was so out of it), thus implying that he would even risk pregnancy to satisfy his dick to the point of nausea.

"you hold on too well-"

you held the sheets for dear life when you felt him pushing away but replacing his sex with one of his agile fingers between your sores.

you gasped as he pecked at all the soft spots of yours. he knew too damn well you were too vulnerable and breakable when it came to his experienced hands.

at the same time you knew how much effort would be required of him to make you suffer precisely, hoping he would get tired.

"so fucking sensitive-"

he inserted another finger, moving at an exorbitant speed. you could feel your wetness even reaching his wrist.

ashamed again.

"p-paul-...i beg-"

he entered you using his thumb to reach your clit.

you moaned as he lapped at your walls, sliding his sizzling tongue into the heat.

he raised his lips sucking greedily, sliding two fingers in once more.

his grunts made everything wetter.

your body came moaning and shaking, your eyes rolling back.

you whimpered as you felt his cock filling you up, preventing you from coming any further.

"p-...paul, you know you're...the only one i love! a vision doesn't mean anything! i-...i- had always loved you, you're the boy of my life, the one who always had all his trust posted about me. so i ask you praying...believe me..."

your boyfriend moved one inch, hitting your weakest and most stimulated point.

you could feel a slight gag rising in your sore and dry throat as the last bit of lucidity left your body in a deep sleep.

(...)

when you wake up a strong pang pierced your forehead, making the room square and moving around you.

paul was curled up on you, not completely resting on you so that his weight didn't give you even more trouble regaining consciousness.

his white and puffy cheek was resting on your bare breasts, a hint of saliva at the sides of his red and swollen mouth.

you couldn't move so you didn't even try, until you felt something holding you back.

paul was lightly sleeping thanks to a bene gesserit relaxation technique, you could now sense that he was completely alert and attentive to your needs.

his delicate hand was hugging your wrist, listening to your heartbeat since you had probably passed out.

he was making sure you were able to breathe normally.

you assumed he had been in that position since the moment you fainted.

you knew that in the end, he loved you more than anything on that planet.

you were his duchess already.

[crescenthistory]

#11 "i want to see you" with Regulus pretty please?

well, when you ask so nicely, of course babe<3

Prompt: E.11 "I want to see you"

Words: 1.5k

Warnings: not proofread, implied smut (mdni), foreplay, heavy makeout, implied trauma and mental health issues on reggie's part, creating a safe space during sexy times, established but new relationship

Note: this man is not okay and i want to personally rectify that. don't know how i feel about this one, but it's something!

The curtains in Regulus’ dorm are drawn, bathing the room in a soft glow from the lantern on the bedside table. You have been spending more nights here than in your own bed the past few weeks, your lives being tangled more and more, and the thought of it all tasted sweet. Each night, you fall into this rhythm, this back-and-forth dance of give and take, of pushing and pulling, daring the other to take it another step. 

His hands are at your waist as you straddle his lap where he sits against the headboard of his bed, fingers tracing absent-minded patterns across your skin. Your shirt is discarded somewhere on the floor, leaving you half-exposed, while Regulus is still fully dressed, save for his tie, which is deliciously loosened. The knot hangs precariously around his neck, the top few buttons of his shirt undone, revealing the pale skin beneath. His chest is heaving and his heart erratic beneath your palm.

His lips meet yours again, soft at first, like he is testing the waters, but you can feel the tension rolling off him in waves, the barely restrained control he is trying so hard to maintain. It’s intoxicating, the way he holds himself back, but you want more. You need more.

You deepen the kiss and feel him melt slightly into you as your fingers tangle into his dark curls, pulling him impossibly closer.

When you break the kiss, you rest your forehead against his, breaths mingling. His hands still linger at your waist.

“Regulus,” you murmur, voice low and edged with something unspoken, "I want to see you.”

His brow furrows slightly, lips parting as if he’s about to speak, but nothing comes out. You bring a hand to his face, thumb brushing over his cheek, his jawline tense beneath your touch. You know he understands, even if he doesn’t want to.

“I understand why you're scared,” you repeat, voice softer but no less insistent. Your fingers move to the knot of his tie, slowly pulling it loose, and you feel his breath stutter against your skin. “But I care for you. I will take care of you, I just want to see you. All of you.”

You mean the words in every possible way. You want to see him — vulnerable, bare, unguarded. Not just physically, you want him to let go, to stop hiding from you, from himself.

His eyes flicker to yours, wide and uncertain, but you can see the desire, the passion, burning in them. A spark that matches the fire simmering inside you. His hesitation makes your heart ache, because you know why he feels the way he is, why he is wired like this, how much he fears losing control, of unravelling in front of you. But you also know how much he wants this — how much he wants you.

Your hands move to the buttons of his shirt, undoing them one by one, your movements slow, deliberate. You give him ample time to stop you, tell you he's too scared, but he just watches you, hunger slowly overtaking his uncertainty. You can still feel the tension radiating from him, the way his breath comes faster with each button undone, as if he's teetering on the edge of something he can’t quite name.

“Let me in,” you whisper, your lips brushing against his collarbone as you push the fabric of his shirt off his shoulders, letting it fall to the floor. “I want to see you fall apart.”

He exhales sharply, like he’s been holding his breath for years. His hands move from your waist to your back, pulling you closer as his lips crash into yours again, more desperate this time, more raw. You can feel the shift, the way his restraint is slipping, the way he is starting to let go.

You’re pressed against him now, your bare skin against the warmth of his chest, the last of his barriers crumbling as you move together. His kisses grow hungrier, his hands rougher as they trace the curve of your spine, the dip of your waist. He groans into your mouth, and the sound sends heat pooling low in your belly.

"I need you," he whispers against your lips. "Just you."

Your hands explore his chest, fingers swirling over his nipples, smiling when he jerks into your touch at the sensation. You let your nails lightly scratch over his stomach, moving slower as you caress his happy trail and eventually the waistband of his trousers. He is receptive to your touch, finally making the occasional sound of enjoyment as he uses his tongue more surely, more passionately. The controlled Regulus Black allows himself to be more sloppy, more desperate, and the mere thought that it's all for you excites you more than anything.

A teasing finger slips beneath the edge of fabric, pulling slightly at it as you push yourself further into him. You feel him tense slightly against you again, though this time it's not from hesitation — it’s from the sheer intensity of everything he’s feeling. He’s right there, on the cusp of losing himself in you, and it’s driving him equally as mad.

You pull back just enough to meet his gaze, your free hand caressing his jaw and neck, your chest heaving as you try to catch your breath. “Reggie,” you whisper, your voice thick with emotion. “You don’t have to be closed off with me. I’m right here.”

"You are," he repeats, eyes holding yours intensely, the weight of your words sinking in. You see the war dying inside him — the battle between wanting to keep his walls up and the overwhelming desire to tear them all down for you. One of his hands moves to your thigh while the other holds your back as he lifts you up from his lap to place you on the mattress behind you. You gasp and he smiles, devilishly and beautifully, before kissing you deep.

“Merlin,” he groans against you, his voice low and wrecked, lips trailing down your neck. His teeth graze your skin in a way that has you arching into him and he meets you in turn. He is starting to unravel under your touch, piece by piece, and it’s the most intoxicating thing you have ever seen.

You feel his hands at the clasp of your bra, his fingers only shaking ever so slightly as he undoes it. There is something vulnerable in the way he moves even now, like he is baring himself just as much as you are. When your bra falls away, his breath catches, and for a moment, all he can do is stare at you, his gaze reverent, like he can’t believe you are real.

“So beautiful, so, so gorgeous,” he whispers, already moving down to kiss across your chest with an open mouth, voice rough with need. His hands tremble as they slide up your sides, kneading the flesh, and you can feel how close he is to losing control, but he’s holding on, just barely, because he’s still afraid to fall completely.

You cup his face in your hands, pulling him back up to meet your eyes. “Let go, my love,” you murmur, your voice barely more than a breath. “I want to see you.”

His resolve shatters.

With a low, broken groan, he kisses you again, harder this time, his hands everywhere at once — your hips, your thighs, your breasts. He’s a mess of need and want, his careful control slipping through his fingers like sand. He is undone, and it is everything you’ve been waiting for.

His trousers are the next to go, discarded in a rush as he moves above you, his body pressed to yours, skin to skin. The heat between you is unbearable, but it’s perfect, and when he finally gives in, when he finally lets himself fall apart in your hands, it’s the most beautiful thing in the world. 

As his groans fill the space between you, as you pull him closer, your bodies tangled together in a perfect mess, you realise this is what you’ve both been waiting for — raw and real, he is completely yours and you his. He whispers your name into the darkness.

[starlightsuffered]

The Smart Rosier

Warnings- smut, unprotected sex, slut shaming, name calling and trash talk during sex, oral (male receiving), dom male, spitting in mouth, teasing, mentions of alcohol, publish sex, mentions of masturbation, mentions of drugs, calling male Master, begging, dry humping, rough sex, choking, hair pulling, mouth fucking, desperate, fucking in front of a mirror

Pairing - Regulus Black/Fem!Reader Rosier

I knocked back a firewhisky. Evan looked at me in admiration.

"You didn't even make a face," he said in awe. He had, had too much of the plant that someone had snuck from the Herbology Green House.

"Yeah, it's almost like I like to party," I chuckled. Every weekend my cousin seemed to forget I was the queen of partying. He was such a lightweight.

"By the way," Evan said. "I need to give you your weekly reminder."

"I'm so fucking sick of this," I snapped, grabbing another shot.

"I can't trust you, you've run through half of Slytherin house," he snapped.

"Slut shaming much," I said, downing the alcohol.

"Not shaming, just begging. Please don't fuck my best friend," he said.

"Why do you give a shit," I hedged. To be honest, Regulus Black was the finest Slytherin in the whole house. I'd had a crush on him for ages.

"You're gonna make him obsessed with you. He'll never want to talk to me again," he complained.

"You whine too much," I snapped, as I stood up to dance. I went to the dance floor. I was moving my hips, and feeling myself. Suddenly, I felt hands on my waist.

"Hello?" I asked, in a sultry tone. I turned to see him. Regulus Black.

"I don't often see you at these parties," I said with a smirk.

"Maybe I saw something that caught my eye," he purred. He was gorgeous. Emerald robes, black curls, a sexy smirk. How was I meant to resist? It was impossible.

"You know, my cousin says to stay away from you," I said.

"Do you wanna listen to Rosier?"

"I'm a Rosier too you know," | chuckled.

"Yes, but you're the smart one," he said.

"Well, all I know is, I wanna feel you," I said, as I pressed a hand against his chest. "Whatever you'll give me, I want it."

"Come to the bathroom with me," he ordered. I was more than happy to oblige.

"You tease me all the time," he growled at me, when he got me alone.

"Hmmm, does it bother you? Do I bother Regulus Black when I wear tiny skirts? Do I bother the Slytherin Quidditch Captain when I dance? Do I bother the Head Boy when I lick my lips slowly at dinner? So important. A Black, even a pure blood, yet I have you whipped."

He was taking deep breathes, as though he could hardly handle what I said.

"You should be taught a lesson," he snarled.

"By all means," I bowed. "Teach me."

I was slammed against the door roughly. He was giving me a hard bruising kiss. His hand was on my jaw, holding it open. He spat into my mouth, and I took it gladly. His hand moved down to my throat as he ground his clothed length against me. I moaned.

"You're such a slut aren't you, I bet you think of me all the time and you touch yourself," he snapped.

"How did you know," I said after he released my throat.

"Running through the whole year, but never me huh?"

"Saving the best for last," I replied.

"Clothes off," he demanded. I swished my wand and I was naked before him. I could see his hardness through his robes.

"What a pretty little cock whore," he smirked. "All your good for is to be used."

I nodded, and fell to my knees. I could tell he liked my willing nature."From now on, your mine, you're not going to touch anyone else, understood?"

"Yes master," | agreed, and I heard him moan at the name.

"I rather like that coming from you," he said as he waved his wand so that he was also naked. His cock stood at attention, veiny and long, I was salivating. I took him into my mouth.

"Eager," he ground out as I bobbed my head. He was gripping the sink, hissing in pleasure. My tongue circled the head of his cock expertly. His hand grabbed my hair hard, so that tears pricked my eyes. He was thrusting into my mouth now. Suddenly, he stopped.

"Get up," he demanded. He whirled me around, so now I was gripping the sink.

"Look at you," he said. I looked in the green studded mirror. My mascara was running from the tears in my eyes, saliva dripped down my chin, my hair was in tangles from his hands.

"Suck a good slut," he said, hands running down my form from behind. They reached my heat and he chuckled.

"You're dripping darling," he said before beginning to put pressure on my clit.

"Please, Regulus," | begged. His fingers danced around the sensitive bundle of nerves. He was absolutely infuriating, but I would wait it out. Anything to have him fully at some point.

Just then I felt the tip of his cock at my entrance. He was still teasing! Pushing his tip in, only to remove it. Tears of desperation stung in my eyes.

"Apologize," he whispered in my ear before kissing my neck. "Apologize for all the things you've put me through."

"I'm so, oh Regulus, I'm so sorry. Please forgive me," | blubbered.

"Now I wanna hear you beg," he said cruelly.

"Please Regulus, I want your cock. I want you to fill me, Regulus, Master, please," I pleaded.

"More," he said, and grabbed one of my tits roughly, kneading the flesh.

"Please Regulus, impale me with your cock. I wanna be full. I want you inside me. I can't live if you don't fuck me right now. I'd die to have your cock in me. Please!"

"Alright darling," he said, and finally pushed into me. I screamed in pleasure, and Regulus didn't seem interested in quieting me.

"The whole party is going to know how good I make you feel," he laughed as he began to thrust in and out.

"You're so big, ah," I was white knuckling the sink as he slammed into me. I couldn't believe the spots he was hitting. I felt like I was on a whole other plane of existence.

"Has anyone else ever fucked you this good?" He demanded as he kept up his ungodly speed.

"Never," was all I could get out. He began to massage my nipples, bringing me even more thrills of sensation.

"Fuck, Regulus, you're a God!" I whimpered as he thrust into me.

"That's right I am," he said and his hand went up to my neck, and put pressure on it.

"Watch yourself darling, watch yourself come undone."

His words nearly had my eyes rolling back into my head, but I did as he commanded. He was a dark figure behind me, an expression of pure lust on his face. His hand dropped from my neck to my clit and I was shaking.

My orgasm washed over me, and I lost all control, screaming his name and seeing white. I was vaguely aware of him cursing and cumming inside me. When I came down, his cum was dripping down my thighs.

"That was so good," I panted, legs wobbly. We used our wands to clean up and walked out. Evan was waiting for me, arms crossed, a furious expression on his face.

"Sorry cousin," I said patting his cheek. "Your best friend has a great cock."

[cassie48]

∙ 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘗𝘳𝘰𝘱𝘩𝘦𝘤𝘺 ∙

(Eventual)Dark!Paul Atreides x fem pregnant reader

• Pt 1 •

࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎

You and Paul grew up together on Caladan. You were born on the same day, on the same hour. Paul’s mother lady Jessica had always seen you as a daughter and for some unknown reason, insisted that you and her son always stay together.

When you and Paul grew to become teenagers, feelings became involved, and a powerful love blossomed. When the two of you heard you had to leave for Arrakis, you were both petrified. But you knew everything would be ok, as long as you stayed together.

When the two of you arrived to the planet, the local fremen called Paul the “Lisan al-Gaib” and you the “malaka”. Neither of you knew what that meant. So, walking hand in hand, you glanced at each other, both your faces full of confusion and curiosity.

When you were told that the names meant 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘷𝘰𝘪𝘤𝘦 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘰𝘶𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘭𝘥 and 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘦𝘯, both of you were confused.

The night before the imperial Sardaukar troops invaded Arrakis, you found out you were pregnant. It was a complete shock and you and Paul were barely 20. You told Paul as soon as you found out. He comforted you, saying the baby was a blessing, and you two would get through it together.

When the troops came in, all hell broke lose. Thankfully you made it out with Paul, and met lady Jessica before running for the hills. Your hand went to your belly, complete fear consuming you. You three managed to get a plane and fly out.

After surviving a storm, and a long, dangerous journey, the three of you ended up in Fremen territory. You met Chani, who was sceptical of your boyfriend, but seemed to like you.

One man was not happy with your arrival and even challenged Jessica. Paul fought for her, killing the man, after a long brutal fight.

As soon as he had done it, he walked straight up to you, he looked full of power and confidence.

“It’s ok my love” he had told you as he hugged you close to him, his hand eventually resting on you belly. Jessica had told you she was pregnant as well, which eased up your nerves, knowing you two would get through it together.

After a good few weeks with the Fremen, Paul learned the ways of the Fremen being taught by stilgar , you tried to do what you could , which was little as you were now coming up to almost 4 months pregnant.

It all changed when Paul rode his first sand worm, you stood with the Fremen watching along with them as you saw Paul do nearly the impossible, smiling at him

All the Fremen beside you stared yelling out 𝗟𝗶𝘀𝗮𝗻 𝗮𝗹-𝗚𝗮𝗶𝗯, some walking up to you before kneeling, and taking your hand yelling out 𝗠𝗮𝗹𝗮𝗸𝗮, praising you

You were confused and scared, and just wanted your boyfriend to hold you. More and more people came up to you grabbing your hand, until suddenly you began to cry. You don’t really know why, but your emotions had been all over the place with your pregnancy.

As soon as Stilgar saw you crying he yelled out at the Fremen, asking them 𝘋𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘶𝘱𝘴𝘦𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘢𝘩? 𝘠𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘤𝘳𝘺!

Immediately they stopped, backing away with whispered apologies to you. When you told Paul later he was outraged.

“Do they think they can grab you like that? You are pregnant they could have hurt you or the baby!” He yelled out, pure rage in his voice.

“It’s ok Paul real-“ you started

“No. It’s not, you were crying, Chani told me. This has to stop” is all he said before pulling you into a hug, you resting your head on his shoulder, his head resting on your own.

Jessica had told you she thinks your baby’s is a boy, you believe her, as she is now the reverend mother. She had really changed, it scared you.

The Fremen and Paul continued fighting against the Sardauker troops, most were very successful. Sadly they blew up the temple, where many had been inside and where they prayed and laid their loved ones to rest.

Paul had been called down to speak with the leaders in the south of Arrakis, he took Stilgars place as he had been injured from the attack.

When you two arrived, Paul told you to go to sleep for a while, you were now seven months pregnant and your body was becoming tired more often.

After about two hours Jessica came up, yelling for you, saying Paul was in trouble. You jumped out of bed and waddled down to him as fast as you possibly could.

She told you he had drank worm blood, to gain an understanding of the prophecy and his future. She told you only your years would bring him back to life. Of course, you had already been crying, so it wasn’t so hard.

Paul gasped and sat up, coming back to reality, he glared seeing all the people surrounding them. He turned to look at you, smiling as he did, cupping your cheeks. You leant into his touch, throwing yourself into his embrace, letting many tear’s escape.

Stilgar yelled out “As it was written!” In pure shock.

“Paul why’d you do it!” You yelled, while crying into his shoulder.

“It’s ok. I understand now. This baby, it’s a miracle, 𝗛𝗲 shall rule after me” he said smiling while looking at you adoringly.

“What? I-I don’t understand! Rule?” You said still crying from the events.

“Trust me. You are the Malaka. You, are the most important woman on the planet right now. This pregnancy, it’s in the prophecy, 𝗬𝗼𝘂 were in the prophecy my love” he said properly sitting up.

“W-What?” You whispered still confused.

“Don’t worry your pretty little head about any of this, you trust me don’t you” He said leaning in closer to you.

You nodded, leaning your body into his, your crying and worrying making you tired.

“Good.” Is all he said leaning into you and kissing you passionately, forgetting you two had a whole audience.

“Oh em well everybody give Lisan al-Gaib and the Malaka privacy” stilgar ordered as the Fremen left yelling out messiah words in their language.

You and Paul continued making out for around five minutes before he noticed how tired you were.

“Come my love” he said as he picked you up, holding you tightly in his arms. You leaned your head on his shoulder, closing your eyes, feeling completely safe in his embrace.

“No one will harm you, my love” he whispered as you drifted off to sleep.

࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎

There will be a pt2!!

[why-say]

Timothée x reader imagine

Warnings: smut, college smut, self-insert, public sex, friends with benefits, slight weight mention (it’s not specific but it’s mentioned), this one may be more plot that smut, stranger x you x Timothée

word count: 1.8k

This is arguably the best thing i’ve ever written.

I started an etsy account selling phone cases so check that out maybe :)

✿ஜீ۞ஜீ✿•.¸¸.•*`*•.•ஜீ☼۞☼ஜீ•.•*`*•.¸¸.•✿ஜீ۞ஜீ✿

You got to class late. That wasn’t usually you, but everyone has bad mornings and today was yours. You entered your class from the back of the classroom and saw all of the seats at the front full. You had no choice but to take one near the back, a few seats over from the last person you wanted to sit next too.

“Hello.” You say curtly. He replies back but with a smile and you find that odd. You and Timothée had an agreement. You wouldn’t interact outside of your late-night booty calls. It had worked to keep things less messy like you both wanted.

You try to ignore the interaction and focus on the lesson, but you can’t see the front or the professor at all, there were too many heads in the way. You raise your hand to let him know and ask for a seat at the front but before you can get his attention, Timothee pulls your hand down.

“Just sit on my lap. You’ll be able to see better, I don’t mind.” He says, he’s already looking away like he’s so sure you will.

“Absolutely not! What? That’s so inappropriate, I’ll just…” Your voice trailed off.

You’ll just what? You were busy for the rest of the week so you couldn’t take notes later and the professor didn’t look like he would stop talking anytime soon. Would it really be that bad? It’s innocent right? It’s not like he would start fucking you in class.

“You’ll just what?” Timothée teases? A knowing smile ghosting over his face already.

“Shut up. It’s just so I can see, you know the rules.”

You move and now you are perched lightly on Timothée's lap. No one in the class even turned to look at you. You were sitting near his knees, trying to keep all your weight off of him and keep listening to your professor who was now fiddling with his computer while still talking.

You didn’t see how Timothée could take notes like this, but he didn’t seem to mind and neither did you.

Before you could start writing you felt Timothée move his hand around your waist. He pulled you further into his lap, so your back was flush with his front. You turned your head to meet his eyes. Timothée was a tall man but in this position, you were looking down to see him. You liked it.

“What are you doing?” You ask.

“Making you and myself comfortable, now continue writing.” He replies, he faces the professor though you can see his mischievousness peeking through.

You could never understand him, but you turned back to continue your work. You feel relaxed. Usually in class you were speed writing, and your brain was going a million miles a minute but today you felt relaxed while still writing. You didn’t understand why. Surely it couldn’t be Timothée? His presence couldn’t be the thing making you feel different. You took a moment to think and that’s when you noticed his arm never left your waist. He was making circles on the side of your body, softly stroking. You turned to face him, and he looked so calm you didn’t even think he noticed what he was doing.

His eyes turned to look at you and you cut your gaze away quickly. You weren’t going to let him distract you outside of your arrangement.

“Shhh, just relax and enjoy it. mkay?” Timothée suddenly whispered. What?

You didn’t understand what he was talking about. It wasn’t until you felt his other hand at your knee make its way up, his other hand still holding your waist.

His hand met the bottom of your skirt, and he kept going, slipping under the skirt. Your body felt hot. You shifted so you were now crossing your legs. His hand was trapped between your thighs, cutting off his movement. You didn’t know the kind of reaction he would give but you were happy to put a stop to whatever he was doing. Or were you? Your breathing was heavier, and your body was still hot.

But it was so inappropriate.

You heard him laugh quietly in your ear. He moved his hands, and you uncrossed your legs. You thought that was that.

The teacher kept talking though you weren’t listening anymore. You couldn’t pay attention to anything with your thoughts ruminating. What was Timothée doing? Why wasn’t he keeping to the arrangement? Did he want you outside of the late-night booty calls?

The light to the classroom goes off and your pulled from your thoughts. You look around and no one is freaking out, so you assume the professor is putting on a film. Your thoughts are correct as an old black and white movie appears. You can’t see anything but the screen except the heads of the people in front of you, but you can’t make out who they are.

“Relax, He put on an old film because we had time left and he finished talking.” Timothée says, still whispering but even lower because it’s so silent. People are still talking to their friends but they’ were trying to keep it lower than the movie which is pretty quiet.

“Okay.” Is all you can think of to say. You're ready to get back into your deep thoughts when you feel Timothée's hands return to where they belong. Where they belong? You couldn’t believe you just said that. Or thought that?

He placed his hands on each of your thighs and moved your legs to the outside of his. His own legs keeping your spread wide open. You couldn’t bring yourself to say anything because in reality you really really needed him. It was all you could think about right now and if he didn’t finish what he started you were going to pop.

With his knees keeping you spread bare his hands made work of you. He slipped his fingers past your underwear, feeling the wetness already there. His fingers lightly pressing into you then back out, shallowly thrusting.

The class was so silent you knew you couldn’t make any noise, but your mouth let out an involuntary moan. No body turned around, so you hope no one heard you.

“I’m not plugging your mouth baby it’s all up to you to keep quiet. Or don’t.” Timothée murmurs.

His words don’t require a reply, but you nod your head anyways, already lost in pleasure.

Sex with him always felt good but it was something about the public humiliation that could happen at any moment that made you feel this all so much more.

His finger continued to work into you, almost prepping you but you couldn’t figure out what for. He flicked your clit unexpectedly and you let out a sharp cry. It wasn’t so loud, but you heard some shuffling a few rows down and to the side. Timothée didn’t stop his assault on your body while you glanced around the classroom. No one was looking but honestly you didn’t care.

You grounded your hips further down trying to feel him deeper, and as if reading your body Timothée moved his hand so two fingers were deep inside your cunt and the heel of his hand was rubbing your clit. His fingers were twisting and pumping into you in ways that made you hold your breath to keep your moans in. You tried to close your legs as a reflex but his own just spread you wider.

The classroom felt like an inferno, and you were ready to cum. Timothée removed his hand from your cunt unexpectedly. You let out an involuntary whine in response.

Timothée moved your further down his now closed thighs, towards his knees. You didn’t understand why? Was he not letting you cum? Had somebody been watching.

You searched around the classroom and to your complete and utter dismay somebody had their eyes on yours. You couldn’t see exactly who it was, but they were standing near the door at the back of the classroom. You knew from what you could see it was a man and his arm was moving weirdly. Before you could try figure out who it was or what he was doing, you felt hands move you again. Too dazed to struggle you didn’t know what was going on until you felt your exposed and dripping pussy meet the head of Timothée's cock.

You felt him slowly pull you down his shaft. Your cunt accommodating for his size and length with an uncomfortable stretch. It was always a struggle trying to fit Timothée inside you, that was why you always prepped yourself with your favourite toys before you saw him. The lack of preparation allowed a strained cry to slip through your lips. You couldn’t think to care who had heard that, but you opened your eyes anyways when you heard a distant grunt. The man at the back of the classroom had your attention and apparently, he had Timothees too. But he wasn’t stopping.

If anything, the attention from the strange man had made Timothee work harder to thrust into you. Because of how wet you were he couldn’t be fast because people would hear, but that didn’t stop him fucking you hard. It felt like he was fucking your breath away with every thrust and you were delirious. Your sensations were limited to just this feeling, the fullness of your cunt, the heat inside your body and the ache at the bottom of your belly.

You could hear Timothée's soft moans and groans in your ear and that was what set you off. Timothée followed behind you quickly after his thrusts turned harder. You felt his warm cum hit your insides and you let out a sigh of content. You wished you could've swallowed his cum instead, but this would do.

Timothée was still panting in your ear, and it wasn’t until you felt something warm and wet hit the side of your face and hair that you remembered the stranger. Both you and Timothée turned back to look at him. He was there, you could see his chest moving up and down rapidly. Timothées hand moved to the liquid on your face. He gathered some on his fingers and placed it in his mouth. He smirked and you didn’t know why until he did the same to you. It was cum.

Moaning at the taste of the strangers cum on Timothees fingers. You looked back up to the stranger and saw him wave before leaving.

These the weirdest lesson you’ve ever day. And you kind of hoped to have it again. You didn't know how you were going to leave the classroom without people knowing what happened, but you didn't care right now.

~~~

Y’all tell me if you liked the longer fic? the plot? idk i need feedback!!

[imnotoverlyobsessive]

Return to the Water

Chapter Eight: You Taste Like Home

AO3 one two three four five six seven eight nine

We cross the deepest oceans, cargo across the sea, and if you don’t believe me, just put your hands on me. And all the constellations shine down for us to see, and if you don’t believe me, just put your hands on me.—Vanessa Carlton, Hands on Me

Timothée trailed open-mouthed kisses down the damp skin of her neck, and Lea panted, her breasts pressed against his bare chest.

“We— we shouldn’t—“

“We should,” he countered, grabbing her ass firmly and giving it a squeeze. “I’ve been wanting this for months, baby. Don’t you want it, too?”

Lea blinked up at him, confused. “Want what?”

Timothée pulled back, staring at her in confusion. “Wanna… y’know.”

She frowned, even more confused. “No, I don’t know.”

“Lea,” Timothée said slowly, pulling slightly back, “do you not know what sex is?”

She frowned, shaking her head and looking up at him in bewilderment.

He looked up at the night sky and muttered something under his breath that she couldn’t quite make out. Then he looked back down at her, his expression equal parts affection, amusement, and exasperation. “It’s how I’ll get you pregnant,” he explained. 

“I always figured I’d lay eggs, the way fish do,” Lea mused. 

Timothée laughed. “No.” Then, he leaned in close to her, his lips brushing against hers. “Lemme show you,” he murmured, leaning down the rest of the way to kiss her again.

Lea kissed him back without really thinking about it, her hands threading into his still-dripping curls. “You taste like the ocean,” she observed. 

“Is that a good thing or a bad thing?” Timothée asked, kissing her neck and fondling her ass again. 

“D— definitely a good thing,” Lea managed to stutter out. “You taste like home.”

She felt his smile against her damp skin. “Good.”

With that, he pulled her down onto the wet sand and climbed on top of her, palming her breast with one hand and gripping her hip with the other. “Your tits are by far my favorite in the world.” He gave her breast another squeeze before moving both hands to her outer thighs. 

When Timothée looked down at her, the moonlight from above them cast shadows on the sharp lines of his face.

He moved down her body slowly, trailing kisses across her skin as he went, even suckling a nipple into his mouth briefly and making her inhale sharply in the process. Then, to Lea’s immense confusion, he pulled her legs apart and settled between them, his elbows in the sand. “What’re you—“

He grabbed her legs and threw them over his shoulders. “Don’t move,” he told her, his eyes locked on her face. 

Then, Timothée did something that was both confusing and delightful. He shoved his face between her thighs and started to lick her there. Insistently, like he had some sort of intent. All thoughts flew from Lea’s mind when he did this, and she gasped sharply, throwing her head back into the sand.

He wrapped both arms around her thighs as if to pull her closer—impossibly closer, they couldn’t get any closer, she was certain of it—with a groan, licking at her with so much determination that she would’ve been confused if she’d been in possession of the ability to form a single half-coherent thought. Instead, her hands gripped his wet curls, to either push him away or pull him closer—she wasn’t sure—as she cried out, her hips bucking mindlessly. Lea was certain that she was hurtling towards something; something significant, something only Timothée could give her, and she was almost frightened by the intensity of whatever was building within her lower abdomen, but she was even more afraid of him stopping what he was doing, and for a second, she thought she was about to die, and then—

And then Lea exploded with a scream. She was still staring up at the sky, wondering what the hell just happened as her entire body pulsated, blood thrumming through her veins, when suddenly, Timothée moved to kiss her again.

Lea felt empty. She didn’t know how or why, but she knew—she knew—that he could fix it. “I need—“ Lea inhaled sharply. “I need— I don’t even know what I need—“

“I know what you need,” he murmured, his mouth moving into a smirk continuing to kiss her neck and squeeze her breasts, thumbing her nipples. “I’ll give it to you, baby, I promise.”

Timothée moved his hands down his own body to remove his shorts, and—much to her dismay—she couldn’t get a very good look at his body since it was pressed up against her own. “What’s happening?” Lea asked anxiously. She wasn’t nervous about what was going to happen, but rather that she'd disappoint him in some way.

He paused, then cupped her cheek and looked into her eyes. “I’m going to put a part of my body inside your body,” he explained. “It’ll feel good. I promise. It’s…” He paused, looking away for a moment. “When I get you pregnant, that’s how I’ll do it.”

Something deep inside Lea fluttered with want, aching for him without fully comprehending how or why, but it was Timothée, her mate. And nothing with him could ever be wrong.

“Okay,” Lea whispered.

He reached down between them and seemed to adjust something, and then she felt an odd sensation against her center.

“What’s that?”

Timothée smiled affectionately at her. “Me,” he murmured. “It’s me, baby.” Then, he cupped her cheek and rested his forehead against hers. “Tell me you love me again.”

Lea inhaled sharply, her cheeks reddening a bit despite the chill on her still-damn skin. “I love you, Timothée,” she whispered, her words nearly drowned out by the sound of the waves.

He smiled again, leaning the rest of the way down to kiss her, and then the odd sensation at her center moved forward, no— inside of her.

“Oh,” she gasped out in shock, both at the sensation and that this was actually happening. “That’s—“

“I know,” he grunted, pushing further into her. “Fuck, I know.”

The further in he went, however, the more uncomfortable it became for her. It was like nothing she’d ever felt before; like some unused, previously unknown muscle was suddenly being overworked. “It— it hurts,” she frowned, telling him somewhat apologetically.

Timothée nuzzled her nose with his. “I know, I’m sorry, sweetheart,” he said gently. “Your body needs a bit to adjust.” He stroked her cheek with his thumb, affection—and something else she couldn’t name—in his eyes. “Will you give me a few minutes to make it feel good?”

Lea would’ve done just about anything he’d asked of her, so she nodded. “I trust you.”

He kissed her sweetly, and moved further inside her. He was slow and gentle, but it still stung, and she felt uncomfortably stretched. “God, Lea,” Timothée groaned against her mouth as his hips finally met hers and he was fully within her.

Lea looked up at him with wide eyes, unsure of what to make of his reaction to whatever sensations he was feeling. “Is… is it good? Does it feel good?”

Timothée nodded with a short, raspy laugh, kissing her again. “Best feeling I’ve ever experienced.”

Lea smiled up at him, kissing him back. She was thrilled she had pleased him. Then, she began to feel the same.

“It… it doesn’t hurt anymore, I don’t think.”

“Can I move?” he asked, looking excited.

“Move?” she said in confusion. 

“Lemme show you, sweetheart,” he rasped out, withdrawing slowly and then pushing back in. 

Lea inhaled sharply, and he repeated the motion. She wasn’t entirely sure if it felt good, exactly, but the discomfort was gone now, at least.

“Fuckin’ hell, baby,” Timothée grunted, rolling his hips against her own. “So damn tight.”

With every thrust, the sensation within her changed, shifted, until her entire body was tingling. “Timothée,” she gasped out, reaching out to touch him.“That feels—“

He gripped her wet hair, his lips brushing against hers as he groaned. “Does it feel good?”

“Y— yeah,” she finally decided. “It feels… it feels good, it feels really good—“

“Fuck,” he grunted, moving a bit faster now. “Best pussy I’ve ever felt. Fuck, Lea.”

She lifted her pelvis off the wet sand to meet his thrusts, and he gripped her hips in response, clearly enjoying her enthusiasm. It felt good, the best thing she’d ever felt in her life. “Don’t stop, Timothée,” she begged softly, her hold on him tightening, “Please don’t stop.”

“Not gonna stop, baby,” he swore, his voice low and intense. “Wanted you too much for too long.” He thrust a bit harder, gently tugging her bottom lip between his teeth and squeezing her hips so tightly she idly wondered if they might bruise, which, strangely enough, didn’t sound like a bad thing in the slightest. “So fuckin’ good.”

Instinctively wrapping her legs around him, her knees bracketing his hips, Lea ran her hands over his chest and shoulders, fascinated by the way her mate—Goddess, she was doing this with her mate, her mate wanted her in this way—was shaped, the way his lithe muscles moved and flexed beneath his too-perfect skin, and she wanted to trace every one of his freckles with her fingertips and mouth and tongue and she never—never—wanted this to end, because it—no, he—was everything, too much and not enough all at once in the best possible way.

“Timothée,” Lea moaned, the sound of it, her desperation for more, drowned out by the waves behind them.

“Yeah, say my name,” he encouraged in a low voice, mouthing wetly at her neck and squeezing her hips harder. “Say my name, sweetheart. Can’t get enough of you.”

“I can’t get enough of you, either,” Lea confessed, surprised by how easy the admission was. Everything about this situation felt right, felt perfect, like she didn’t need to feel embarrassed. Not here, not with him.

Timothée sat up a bit, burying his hands in the wet sand on either side of her. Her legs fell from his hips, and he continued to roll them against hers as he looked down at her. “God, you’re sexy,” he muttered, his gaze flitting from her face to her breasts to her hips and back up to her face again. He balanced himself on one hand and reached down to grip her breast, giving it a rough squeeze. “Could watch the way these bounce for hours.”

Lea’s lips parted on a moan, and she arched her back off the sand and into his touch. Her breasts bounced from the force of him driving into her, but that didn’t stop Timothée from pinching her nipple between his thumb and forefinger. She whined at that, the unfamiliar sting sending sharp jolts of what felt like lightning through her veins and down to where they were joined.

“Oh, I—“ Whatever half-formed thought flew from her mind and she cut herself off with an involuntary moan, because he gently twisted her nipple, making her back arch again.

“Don’t think,” Timothée rasped out, lowering himself back down, propping himself up on his elbows as he thrust inside her. “Don’t think, Lea. Just feel.”

“I am, I’mfeeling—“

He cupped her cheek, gazing into her eyes for a moment that was both an eternity and simultaneously not long enough, and then he kissed her. Slowly, intensely, like he wanted it to last forever too.

Lea threw her arms around his neck and returned the kiss enthusiastically, even as she moaned into his mouth at the things he was doing to her, the things he was making her feel. As they kissed, he reached between their bodies and rubbed the same spot he’d been licking before.

Lea moaned, her muscles tensing up as he wrung pleasure from her like he knew her body better than she ever could, no matter how long she spent as a human, and he rubbed faster, more insistently, never ceasing the delicious movement of his hips.

“That’s it, baby,” he encouraged. “Cum for me. Wanna hear those pretty little moans again, wanna hear you screaming my name. Cum for me.” 

Lea didn’t understand exactly what he meant, but when she had that second burst of… whatever it was, it was even more intense than it had been before, and she was suddenly immensely worn out.

Timothée, however, was neither satisfied nor worn out. Instead, he moved faster, harsher. “Fuck, Lea,” he grunted, burying his face in her neck. “‘m gonna cum, you feel so fucking good—“

Lea was so dazed that she was hardly even aware of what he was saying, but she knew she was happy. And then, he thrust a few more times, each one more long and intense than the last, before he finally stopped altogether and collapsed atop her. He panted against the skin of her neck for several long minutes, the sound of the waves crashing against the shore drowning out the sounds of their breaths and thundering heartbeats.

Lea hadn’t realized she’d closed her eyes and couldn’t recall having done so, but she kept them closed anyway, holding him against her. “I love you, Timothée.” Her voice was tired but full of such obvious contentment that he lifted his head up to kiss her again.

“I think it will be very easy for me to love you back,” he told her gently, kissing her again. “Just give me time.”

Lea opened her eyes and smiled up at him. In that moment, as her mate helped her to her feet and led her back to the house, all she could think of was how perfect this all was. He was everything. Everything.

He took her to the patio outside his bedroom and opened the door. “Where are we going?” Lea wondered, confused. “My room is over there—“

He pulled her towards the bathroom, into his shower, which was substantially larger than the one in her room.

“What, you didn’t think you’d just go back to sleeping in your own room after that, did you?” he said with a little laugh. “No, baby. No.” He leaned down and gave her a slow, passionate kiss. Lea sighed, smiling against his lips. “C’mon,” he murmured, turning the water on. “Let’s get all this sand off.”

She stared at the water flowing in rivulets down his unnecessarily—obnoxiously, really—perfect body. She blinked, examining a certain part of him that was very different from her own human body. “Is that what you put inside me?” she asked, pointing at the unnervingly sized appendage.

Timothée glanced down at himself and laughed again, getting his hair wet and encouraging her to do the same. “Yeah, it was that.”

She stared at it. “How odd.”

He chuckled a bit, helping her rinse the sand from her body, and admittedly taking far too long on her breasts.

“What are you doing?” Lea asked as he kissed her neck and squeezed her breasts with both hands, teasing her nipples.

“Washing the sand off?” It sounded more like a question than a statement, so Lea said, “I think those parts are free of sand.”

One hand continued to tease her nipples while the other trailed down her body, his fingertips gently touching her center. “Do you want me to stop?” Timothée murmured, kissing her neck.

Lea considered this for a moment. “Okay, just a little,” she finally decided, leaning back against him as he slipped his fingers inside. “Just… just a little.”

After the shower, he dried her off with a soft towel before leading her—on stumbling, unsteady feet—to his bed, where he cocooned her in his arms.

And then Lea slept, and slept well, for the first time in months.

Sorry for the wait, smut is harder to write than just about any other type of scene. Anyway big thanks to my beta @lilmaymayy

Tag list:

@ellamaianderson @shika1200 @blackqueenstarseed1 @gatoenlaciudad @esmaada @mariaelizabeth21-blog1 @softhecreator @timolaurence @timmymyluv @oddlyenoughiamweird @leecrunchybones @s-we-e-t-t-ea @almostg @leespparker @bubblebuttwade @glizzymcguirex @starberry-cake @camille-1019 @lixzey @shycreationdreamland @gossamer19

To be added, please ask 💗

[choerypetal]

Little Accidents / Paul Atreides

Summary: Paul's obliviousness was soon shattered when frequent visits to the nursing room revealed the true essence of love at first sight.

Ps: This is a short fluff I had in mind, but I hope you enjoy and also english isn't my first language so bare with minimal errors, (once upload i always make sure to update now my works, if there is any errors) Enjoy! XOXO

As the heir of the Atreides' House, Paul effortlessly following in his father's esteemed footsteps. He possesses an acute sense of ownership, ensuring he's well aware of everything under his purview. Whether it's news of your battle injuries or workplace mishaps, Paul is always the first to know, abandoning any prior engagements to rush to your aid. While you're being tended to, his concern is palpable; his eyes scan for any signs of harm as he utters all while using the voice. ‘Where?’ This gesture of worry has become familiar, a reassurance you've grown accustomed to, especially when your visits to the infirmary often serve as an excuse to steal moments with him. ‘Dropped a weapon on my foot,’ you explain with a hint of ruefulness, ‘guess my impatience got the better of me, inadvertently knocking out one of the armories. Pity.’

Indeed, quite a pity. Paul couldn't help but notice your composure, devoid of any telltale signs of injury. It either seemed that the nurse had efficiently tended to you before his arrival—a stroke of luck, perhaps. However, Paul wasn't fooled; this wasn't the first time you'd urgently summoned him to the infirmary. Today, he harbored suspicions that you might finally reveal the true reason behind your frequent visits. “If you'd prefer I refrain from using the Voice," he remarked, a hint of seriousness in his tone, "you'll need to be more forthcoming than simply labeling it an accident, my dear."

However, you eventually reassured the head nurse, explaining that it was merely a minor issue requiring attention. Your heart fluttered with a mixture of nerves and affection as Paul insisted on tending to your wounds himself, rather than delegating the task to anyone else. As the room cleared, leaving just the two of you alone, Paul attempted to devise a plausible excuse while discreetly observing your work. This added another layer of challenge for him, yet he remained determined to keep a watchful eye on you. “Now tell,” A pregnant pause was felt soon as he sat next to you. “How I am suppose to know, that there is probably more reason than just a visit at the nursery?” 

You find yourself drawn in by his innocence, but observing Paul working alongside his father and their associates, it becomes evident that innocence was not his defining trait anymore. In fact, there's a possibility he understands more than he lets on. Maybe he's even willing to engage in the game you're playing. You nonchalantly dismiss any concerns, offering the excuse that you're just adding a bit of spice to the situation. However, Paul's reaction suggests that perhaps it's not the right moment to discuss such matters, especially anything related to the Spice itself.

Paul tilted his head, almost taking offense at your attempt at humor. Despite his awareness of your desire to spend more time alone with him, he understood that convincing him to stay a little longer each time wasn't as simple as it seemed. Even if his attempts at pampering you, like tending to invisible wounds that morphed into cuddle sessions, were charming, he recognized that your discussions about the 'Spice' were more about politics than relaxation. Poor thing– that was all he knew about out. This realization led to a soft chuckle from you, followed by an apology for bringing up the topic. However, Paul dismissed your apology, urging you not to discuss such matters, especially around him, as he couldn't help but wonder why you frequented the nursing room more often than before. “Now tell me, or I might just become as impatient as you’ll be when demanding kisses..”

His voice trailed off, almost seductive when Paul was right about to expose this little game of yours. Instantly you could feel his lip curve slightly into a smirk as he saw your expression, your eyes winding in shock, trying your very best to obliged. That you were the one who meant to shock Paul out of his work for some time but, perhaps you were indeed right about your wonders. That in fact, Paul knew that the exact reasons why you obliged yourself to the nursing room more often than ever. Only to find out, it was to spend more time with him. But Paul being himself, being the type of guy that he is, did not to confess his wrong at first or to be completely oblivious. After all– he is the duke’s son. 

"So, let me get this straight," Paul Atreides began, his tone tinged with a mixture of disbelief and introspection. "I, Paul Atreides, am so easily ensnared by your little charade? It's rather disheartening, truth be told." There was a hint of a pout on his lips as he contemplated your adeptness at expressing your desires, though he couldn't entirely fault you for it. With the constant demands of dealing with the Harkonnens and managing CHOAM affairs, finding time for you had become more challenging than he and you had anticipated. 

Unlike his parents, whose marriage was purely political, Paul had chosen a different path, one where your presence held a significance beyond mere political alliances. For him, building a future within the confines of the Atreides' House with you by his side was a deeply personal and cherished desire. Material wealth could wait; what mattered most was the connection he shared with you. With a sigh, he reached out to gently caress your cheek, a silent acknowledgment of your correctness all along. Perhaps it was time to prioritize his own happiness, even if it meant putting paperwork aside momentarily. "Maybe you're onto something," he admitted, his voice softening. "Perhaps you’re right, perhaps it's time for me to take a break from the endless bureaucracy and spend some quality time together. After all, even I need to unwind–."

Paul's words carried a weight of remorse rarely heard, especially within the esteemed Atreides family. As he neared the end of his sentence, you leaned in swiftly, feeling the soft brush of his lips against yours in a lingering kiss. The longing shared between you both was palpable, though circumstances often made indulgence impractical, intensifying the desire even more. When Paul finally pulled away, he gently nibbled at your lower lip, a playful chuckle escaping him at the sudden surge of hunger between the two of you. There was an undeniable yearning to touch, caress, and love you. "Perhaps I'll request a day off," he murmured, his voice laced with a hint of promise. “Perhaps you will.” You both end up chuckling as he cups your face, his eyes gazing from your eyes to your lips. Paul confessed once more,

“And perhaps, we don't always have to use the excuse of happy accidents, so I can exile from paperwork every now and then.” 

[josephandrewstarkey]

proving who’s best

warnings: 18+ minors DNI mentions of smut, jealousy

drew x actress!reader

The movie ended, the credits rolling as the room fell into a comfortable silence. You could feel Drew’s eyes on you before you even turned to meet his gaze. He had been unusually quiet during the film, his arm resting on the back of the couch but his fingers barely brushing your shoulder. You shifted slightly, giving him a questioning look, and his jaw clenched subtly.

“So,” he began, his voice low and calm, but there was an unmistakable edge to it. “You and Timothée, huh?”

You smiled, knowing where this was headed. “It’s just a movie, Drew. We’re actors, remember?”

“I know,” he muttered, shifting closer, his voice deepening, “but watching him kiss you for two hours does something to a guy.” His fingers slid down your arm, his touch sending shivers through you. “He thinks he’s got game?”

You laughed softly, though your heart raced a bit. “It’s just a role. You’re not really jealous, are you?”

Drew’s eyes darkened as he leaned in, his lips brushing your ear. “Maybe I just need to remind you who’s better.” His hand cupped your chin, tilting your face towards him. “Who makes you feel more.”

Before you could respond, his lips were on yours, the kiss deep and possessive. His hand slipped to the back of your neck, pulling you closer as he kissed you with an intensity that left no room for doubt. He wanted to prove something.

When he pulled back, his breathing was heavy, his eyes locked on yours. “Who fucks you better, huh?” he whispered, his voice rough, almost daring you to answer.

Your breath hitched, the teasing glint in his eyes sending heat rushing through you. He kissed you again, softer this time but still full of passion, his lips exploring yours with deliberate slowness.

“Drew,” you murmured against his mouth, but he wasn’t letting up.

“Tell me,” he insisted between kisses, his hands now running along your sides, pulling you closer still. “Who makes you feel this way?”

You couldn’t speak, couldn’t think beyond the feel of him, the heat of his body against yours. He kissed you deeply again, his lips demanding and confident, but underneath the jealousy, you could feel the love, the way he needed to feel connected to you.

Finally, he pulled back just enough to look into your eyes. His breath was warm against your lips as he spoke, his voice softer now, filled with something deeper than possessiveness. “You’re mine,” he whispered, a hint of vulnerability slipping through the confidence. “And I’m not letting you forget that.”

You smiled, your hand resting against his chest. “I wasn’t planning to.”

His lips captured yours once more, and the world seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of you tangled in the heat of the moment, where jealousy and passion blended into something much more intense—a reminder of the love you shared, stronger than any scene in a movie.

[kteezy997]

The Candy Man-Part One// W.W.

Warnings: Smut, mention of masturbation, male receiving oral sex, virgin Wonka, cowgirl, missionary, some dirty talk, curse words, cream pie, female receiving oral sex, oh and cheating on spouse A/n: I have not seen Wonka yet, so there are NO spoilers here!

As a young housewife, there wasn't much for you to do. You had done the housework for the week and done all the grocery shopping, and it was only Wednesday. This would make for a long, boring week.

It would be different if you had a child to look after, but sadly, that hadn't happened yet. And it may never happen if your husband continues to show such a low interest in sex. Sometimes it felt like he forgot you even existed.

You wished he would just give you a baby, if he didn't want to give you attention. That way you'd have not only something to occupy your time, but you'd also have someone to love, and for someone to love you. You weren't even sure if your husband loved you anymore. Your relationship wasn't the same as when you were first married two years ago.

These days, all you really wanted was for him to come home, rip your clothes off, and fuck you like he hadn't seen a woman in years. You wanted to feel desired, so badly. You had recently picked up a habit of touching yourself sexually while your husband was away at work. You were so starved.

.....

Autumn had come and gone by this time of the year and it was becoming quite frigid outside. With winter well on the way, you turned on your fireplace in the living room. You didn't really care for the bear skin rug that your husband insisted on having in front of the fireplace, but it wasn't worth the fight to try to get rid of it.

With the fire going, you snuggled up into a cozy sweater and put on some mindless radio station to fill in the silence of the empty house. As you listened to the radio and did some mild tidying about the room, you wondered if you should maybe get a dog, or maybe a cat.

Then the doorbell rang, that's weird. You thought. You seldom had any visitors during the day. You walked over and opened the door.

"Hello, Miss. My name is Willy Wonka! Would you care to sample some of my chocolate on this fine day?"

"Fine day? It's freezing out there," you said as you were awestruck by this man's beauty, his bright purple coat and milk chocolate-colored top hat added a sort of zany zest to his attractiveness. "um, would you care to come in and warm up for a minute?" you said politely, nodding to his briefcase that you assumed was filled with sweets, adding, "I do love chocolate."

"Why, yes, if you're sure you don't mind." he smiled, and his green eyes were dazzling.

"No, I don't mind at all, sir."

Willy took his hat off, and his curls fell downward in a bit of a mess as he stepped into the warm home. "Thank you, I didn't get your name."

"Oh, I'm y/n. Please, sit down, the fire is going."

"It is quite toasty in here, thank you, y/n." Willy said, taking a seat on the couch closest to the fireplace. “Very interesting choice of a rug, y/n.” he chirped.

“Oh that? My husband insisted on it, it’s so dreadful. But it is rather soft.”

“Hm.” he nodded looking at the luscious, dark colored fur on the floor. He then looked at her, cheerily, “So, would you like to try some?” He picked up his briefcase.

“Of course.” you said with a smile, truly wanting to try some of him instead, but you’d give his candy a chance for now. He was so damn handsome. His hair was gorgeous, you wanted to run your fingers through it, maybe even pull it.

He opened his briefcase in his lap, letting you choose which candy you wanted.

You picked a piece of chocolate, and he told you the name of it, and its special ingredients. You listened to him, but ultimately got lost in his innocent yet sexy eyes. You bit into the treat, and it was rich and velvety sweet as it melted in your mouth. It was absolutely delicious. The best candy you ever had in your life.

“Mr. Wonka, this is perfection, it’s absolutely divine.”

Willy smiled widely, “I’m pleased to hear it. I have only ever hoped that each person that tries my chocolate will have that same reaction.”

He was so genuinely confident and excited about his creation. The passion he had was evident.

“I’ll take every one of this flavor that you have, Mr. Wonka.” you said, taking another delicious bite.

“Wonderful!” he exclaimed, “And please, call me Willy.”

“Willy.” you said, softly. You wanted to moan his name. But how to get there? You improvised. “Um, why don’t you stay for a bit longer? I can put in a pot of tea, if you’d like.”

“That sounds lovely y/n, or should I call you Mrs…”

“Oh, it’s Mrs. Hudson, but you can just call me y/n.” you insisted, hopping up and going to the kitchen heating up some tea. You had to have this man. Cheating was wrong, but your husband would never, ever know. He never wanted sex anymore, but you couldn’t go without it like he did. You were so needy, especially now, after meeting the handsome Mr. Wonka.

You had plenty of time to have Willy fuck you and send him on his way with his payment for the chocolate, all before Mr. Hudson got home. You would have to make Mr. Wonka an offer he couldn’t refuse, much like you couldn’t refuse his delectable sweets.

You carried two cups of steaming, aromatic tea, one for you and one for Willy. You hoped it would warm him up properly.

“Here you are, sir.”

“Why thank you, very kindly, my lady.” he took the teacup from you, and you felt weak in your knees when your hand was briefly brushed by his fingers. You watched as he carefully brought the rim of the cup to his lips, taking a small sip. “Mm, that’s quite good. A perfect cup of tea, y/n.”

“Thank you. I’m glad you like it.” you said, sitting down next to him and taking a sip for yourself. You didn’t know how to get this man naked; you weren’t finding any viable option that wouldn’t be too crude or forward. You felt you were running out of time. You couldn’t let him leave with the risk of never seeing him again. This delightful, beautiful man could not escape you.

“Well, this has been quite the pleasure.” he said, in a farewell tone. He took one last sip of his tea.

You haven’t had the pleasure, yet.

“But I will get out if your hair,” Willy stood up, continuing, “and go about my merry way. Thank you for your-"

“Wait! Willy-" you shot up to your feet as you spoke but couldn’t finish a sentence. You just started into his eyes.

“Yes?” he asked, frowning at you, utterly confused by your behavior.

You didn’t have the words, so you threw yourself at him, kissing him hungrily.

He took ahold of you, and pulled away from the kiss, “Y/n, are you mad?”

“Oh, god! I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have…”

“No, it is alright. It was kind of…nice.”

“Yeah? Mr. Wonka, I had an idea of pleasing you the way you pleased me with your chocolate. If you’ll indulge me?”

He raised his eyebrows, “I have to say, I’m intrigued.”

You put your hands on his chest, making him sit back down on the couch. Your hands then went to his fly.

“Whoa! What are you doing?” he asked, panicky.

“Shh-sh. Relax, Willy. Do you like me?”

“Ye-yes.” he trembled with nerves. “I find you very pretty.”

“I really like you. Have you…ever been with a woman before?” You rested your hands on his upper thighs, dangerously close to his member. It was visible through his trousers although he wasn’t even hard yet.

Willy shook his head, “No, ma’am.”

“Awe, don’t be scared. I’ll take care of you, okay. Do you want that, Willy?” You ran your hands slowly around the outline of his cock.

He gulped, watching your hands on his pants, “Yes, I think I would really like that.”

“Good.” You beamed, unzipping his trousers, and pulling his cock out. He was much thicker and longer than your husband. You were excited about being Willy’s first. You wet his cock with your tongue, and sucked him, moaning and slurping as you did so. You wanted him so bad; you sucked his cock like your life depended on it.

A string of “oh oh oh”’s and “mmm’”s fell from Willy’s mouth as you worked over his cock. He writhed on the couch and placed a hand on your head.

He was hard as stone after a moment, and you had been wet since he sat on your couch the first time. “Oh, Willy. Do you feel good, my sweet?”

“Yes,” he panted, his eyes glazed over, “very good.”

You stood up, and dropped your underwear to the ground, kicking them elsewhere. Then, you mounted him. His hands instinctively went to your waist. You reached down, placing his member between your folds. You sank down on him, feeling the intense stretch of your vaginal walls. You moaned in a slight pain initially, because his was larger than your husband, and you had never been with anyone else.

“Are you alright, y/n?”

“Oh, yes, darling, just give me a moment.” you adjusted, and then started to bounce in his lap.

Willy watched you in wonder and awe, then he’d look down to watch your pussy envelope his cock. “Haa, this is incredible.” he moaned, gripping your hips harder.

You quickened your pace. Sinful wet sounds came from your pussy. God, you needed this. The friction alone was titillating, but the tip of his cock would hit your cervix every so often and it was bliss, the whole scenario.

"Oh, y/n!" Willy cried your name over and over again. His hands explored your clothed body, groping your curves.

Damn, it felt so nice to be touched, and his hands were surprisingly big, and he knew how to use them.

You held yourself up with your hands on his shoulders, and slowly rocked back and forth on his cock. You noticed him eyeing your chest. "Unbutton my blouse, Willy."

He bit his lip with an eager gleam in his eyes, and he opened up the front of your blouse, letting your breasts plop out in his face.

Willy's eyes widened, he took his eyes away from your tits to look up in your eyes, "May I feel them?" he asked with a soft whimper.

"Yes, absolutely." you huffed, taking his hands and clapping them onto your naked breasts.

He gently squeezed and kneaded your breasts, then rolled your nipples between his fingers.

He was so sweet, and so curious about your body. It was so hot. You wanted to get off, you hoped to cum all over his dick. You held onto his arms firmly and rode him hard. His cock pounded away at your walls wildly, and you contracted your pussy around his girth.

"Ah! Fuck this is so good! I'm gonna...I'm gonna come!"

"Oh, oh!" Willy held your waist, and you felt his cock twitch inside you.

Your tummy swirled, and your legs went limp as you came.

"What's happening?" Willy cried, "What is this?" You felt him shoot ropes of his milky cum inside of you.

You took his worried face in your hands, "You're alright, my candy man. You had an orgasm. It's a wonderful thing."

"Oh," he panted, "yes, I suppose it is. A fantastic thing! Gosh, y/n, that felt like chocolate tastes, and chocolate is the best thing in the world!" he was so excited, like he'd discovered something that no one else had experienced before.

You giggled, "Well, I'm flattered, Willy." you felt hot and sweaty, you ran your hand down the back of your neck. You felt Willy's eyes on your tits.

"Your breasts, they are absolutely beautiful." he took them in his hands, just admiring the fullness of them.

You felt your pussy throb at the sight. Your husband never paid much attention to your body, but Willy seemed to be enthralled by you. You noticed how the glow of the fire highlighted his cocoa-colored curls. It was so pretty, his hair looked like the work of a master chocolatier. You ran your fingers through it, feeling the silkiness of his glorious mane.

"Can we do it again?" he asked you, then nodded to the floor, "There? On the bear skin rug? It would be comfortable for you."

"You're so thoughtful. Fuck me again, Willy Wonka. Pound me into the floor if you must."

Willy smiled like a kid on Christmas morning and hoisted you up and then carefully placed you down on the rug.

The fur was plush and soothing on your back. You put your arms up by your head to get comfy.

Willy ran his hands down your body. He looked at you like you were a gift he had been waiting for. "You are so beautiful. Your husband does not know how lucky he is."

"That's sweet, Willy, but let's not mention my husband."

He nodded, "Right." Then, he dipped down, pressing his lips to your stomach.

"Mm." you moaned, rubbing your thighs together in anticipation. You could feel Willy's semen dripping out of you. You wanted more.

Willy left small wet kisses down passed your navel, lower and lower, and you couldn't help but push his head down where you needed him most.

"How do I do this, y/n? Is it like... licking a lollipop?" he asked, naively.

You smiled at him and said, "Yes, kind of. Like a sucker with a chewy center...but you're not in a big hurry to get to the center. You're just trying to enjoy the flavor on the outside."

He took a second to ponder over what you had said, then he nodded, "Okay, got it."

He was a quick learner. He lapped steadily on your clit; his pacing was perfect, not too fast, not too slow. He must have had lots of suckers in his life.

"You can use the tip of your tongue also, Willy." you whimpered through the pleasure.

"Oh, okay." he answered, his voice muffled as he didn't move away from your pussy as he spoke.

The vibrations from his voice sent tingles through your body. That coupled with Willy massaging your clit with his tongue and letting the tip dance between your folds, led you to your second orgasm. You cried out in ecstasy. "Willy Wonka, you are a god!"

"No, I'm just a chocolate maker." he said, nonchalantly. He then sat on his knees, his hand around his cock. He ran the tip of his cock along the joint of your wet folds, coating himself in your cum.

"Ooh." you moaned, tucking your fingers into the furry rug as firmly as you could.

Willy slid into you, then back out. "Ha, you're so wet."

"Fuck me hard, Willy." you purred.

With that, he shoved his cock into you, bucking his hips roughly. His hips smacked your skin with each thrust. He put his whole length into you. He gripped your thighs and started to get faster.

You squeezed him with your thighs, and he grew more confident in what he was doing and picked up a rhythm. You watched his handsome face scrunch up as he worked his hips, his thick brows furrowing in both pleasure and concentration.

You wondered what your husband would do if he knew that the candy man stopped by and made you come on the bear skin rug he loved so much. Oh, the risk was worth it! For Willy was perhaps better at sex than making chocolate.

@gatoenlaciudad @thebetawolfgirl @musicandbooksaremyhappyplace @softhecreator @tchalamss

@chalametbich

[gladiatorcunt]

- MOTHERBOARD BIRDCAGE | XVI.

the machine masturbated and we had to take it or die

cw: kinktober prompt (dubcon) fem reader, takes place at the beginning of dune 1, fem reader, dark!paul, misogyny, allusions to collaring and bondage, implied mind control orgasms, cunnilingus, arranged marriage (reader and paul are the same age), slight degradation/dumbification, reader has an implied attraction to leto, implied overstimulation, teasing, paul talks about reader like she’s a literal meal, dead dove do not eat, unedited

please do not repost, translate, or feed this work to ai

kinktober 2024

The winter sun hangs heavy on Paul Atreides' head like a pale crown.

“You look radiant, my love.”

An exhalation, “Thank you, I am happy it pleases you.”

“I think it will always please me to drink in the sight of you for the rest of our lives, a crucial part of my every meal.”

His father smiles, pleased and amused, a saying that is learned behavior then. Leto Atreides studies your gait, dragging his weighing stare back to your neutral face as they yearn to drift lower, lower, lower.

The dawn marking your second decade of life flies in on wedding bells, the night sleeps restlessly on the Atreides’s ship to Arrakis.

You pace back and forth, now kept in a room in your in-laws stronghold on the sand planet. Your marriage bed is practically all that exists in the beige space, unassuming built in shelves on either side. What is a wife to do but drape herself over the golden sheets and sigh the days away, after all.

Paul has been very polite with you, smiling charmingly against your mouth during your chaste first kiss, keeping his touches brief and only from his fingertips to the small of your back. You would take a step away and you could practically feel his fingers splay out, yearning, the air crackling, but he always let his hands fall to his sides.

You smile at him when you can, in your own way, tense and barely there. You haven’t been married for 24 hours, and your husband is already off doing his duty. You try not to think about it, the reason for the Atreides to stay on Arrakis and your loneliness. Paul is someone you’ve known for as long you’ve been his wife, but you have no one else.

His mother is deeply complicated and his father… Paul told you it’s just better for you to stay away. So you have, wasting the hours away pacing, going over your outfit options with the new handmaids you selected, the rejects from the ones sent to be picked over by your mother in law. The loneliness has become unbearable, Paul visits when he has the time, brief kisses and barely there grasps of your elbow.

You can hardly be blamed for being at your wits end one night, huffing as you roll over in bed after your afternoon nap and sliding one of the pillows between your supple thighs. It’s where Paul rests his head for the few hours you share a bed as most married couples are meant to do, you can still smell the traces of sea vapor and cold tree bark that he left behind.

“Hah….” You softly moan, languidly rocking your hips, missing your clit entirely but you have been on the brink for so long that there is no need for direct stimulation.

Your cunt quickly wets the expensive golden fabric through your undergarments, and you allow yourself to imagine it’s a man’s thigh you’re grinding on. Your husband’s, pale but flushed pink and thickened with sinewy muscle, used to tensing up. You can’t say if you feel a great desire to turn these visions into reality, but the imaginary is safe, and safe is good. You cannot mess up smooshing an ordinary pillow against your weeping cunt.

You are used to arousal being shameful, everyone stuffs their fingers up their holes and goes through trial and error until they hurtle over the edge, and they’ll don their gowns to tell their juniors the horrors of sexual proclivity. You’ve never even fingered yourself, the most you’ve done is shyly slip a digit in and then yanked it out when you felt a dull burn.

If only your teachers and staff of your castle could see you now, dry humping your distant new husband’s pillow with no orgasm in sight. You sigh and sink your head into the remaining nest of pillows, lounging in the lazy pleasure that’s barely pleasure at all. Your eyes flutter shut, which turns out to be the pivotal moment of your marriage.

You feel him before you see him, a lanky hand gingerly slides over your wide hip into the dip, not halting your movements or guiding you, merely touching to touch.

Your eyes shoot open and you try to flinch but Paul hisses something quietly, a wave of calm washes over you but you still look over your shoulder to hesitantly meet his eyes. Paul grants you a small warm smile, rubbing circles into your hip with his thumb.

“I was planning to discuss this with you, but apparently you’ve taken matters into your own hands, my love.” He softly chuckles, bending down to peck the swell of your warm cheek.

His next words are whispered into your pores, his mouth so close that you feel the stitches sewing his skin to yours, “I know this has been a new experience for you, and you barely had time to get used to Caladan before you were whisked away here, but you have to know that I promise to be a loving husband.”

How can you be assured of that? If there is anyone to be wary of in this universe, you’ve been taught that it is one’s husband.

“Yes, well, can you at least…” You awkwardly trail off, pointedly gesturing to the pillow wedged between your thighs, he had not let you move since he had returned.

Paul's face transforms in genuine confusion, brow furrowing and eyes narrowing ever so slightly, then his eyes drift down to the pillow and he exhales an ‘ah’.

His grip tightens, the tips of his fingers form mini half craters in your flesh. “I don’t see the point in that, unless the way you’re clutching onto the thing for dear life causes you pain then it can remain where it is.”

You get swept up in the undercurrent warning. He’s right unfortunately, the pillow is too silken to bring you any discomfort, you are just too prideful and prone to embarrassment. From the glint in his eyes, this will be something he will help you work on until it’s a trait of a past you. You shyly meet his stoney gaze head on as you let your thighs relax, they slide down the pillow and settle on the plush bedding.

Paul leans over with interest, sliding his hands from your hip dips to caress your inner thighs. You automatically tense up and he tuts, fixing you with a cajoling look.

“Come on.” He coos, his fingers travel up your thighs to play with the tufts of hair peeking out from your underclothes. “How are a husband and wife meant to get to know each other if their bodies are uncharted territories? You don’t even speak to me.”

You sigh, relaxing your body so your husband can peruse it as he pleases. Paul leans down to get closer and gets a hold on your underwear, in an instant they’re torn away. You react with an aggravated exclamation, Paul smiles as he leans down to press a kiss to the center of the hair on your mound. Your breath hitches but you say nothing, frozen by the shock of what is supposed to be a perfectly natural moment between a married couple.

Paul drags his nose through your pubic hair, his tongue darts out for small licks every so often. You ball your hands into fists as he moves his mouth towards your swollen bud. When he finds it, he latches on and starts to suckle, smoothing his hands up and down your legs as if you’re nothing more than a frightened bull, a beastly thing that he tames and conquers.

“Refreshing.” He murmurs into your folds, his tongue leaves your clit to lick broad stripes before fucking inside your sloppy hole. “I could do this forever if my wife would let me.”

He would do it even if you kicked and screamed, but that’s neither here nor there. You don’t even need his powers to be open and willing this time, well, open enough. He has an acquired taste, little wives who ultimately bend to their husband’s will but act as if a spiked chain is around their neck.

The cool metal will become as warm as Arrakis’ sun in the blink of an eye.

You dig your nails into your palms, convinced you can barricade yourself against the pleasure through sheer will. Paul Atreides has never been one to succumb to your grievances, you’ll crumble to pieces under his influence, it could be a soft and slow thing if you act properly. He wants hearts to bloom in your irises, sparks of light forming a ring around your pupils, miniature collars.

You flail about for a moment and carve into the sheets with your heels, your skin so smooth you slip and lose your footing. Paul keeps watch from his vantage point between your thighs, lapping up the wetness pushed out by your body in the same way you’ve seen him sip his drinks. Slow, but purposeful, an act of seduction under the disguise of something truly mundane. He curls his tongue and it reminds you of a dance, you’re caught up in the whirlwind.

“I think…” He pants, nearly out of breath and he has not even been in your cunt for five minutes, “Your sweat should be bottled, I would spray it on my pillow and have the sweetest dreams.”

You don’t know what to say to that, Paul’s knack for muttering words that steal the breath from your lungs is another thing you’ve not grown used to.

“You fill me-” lick “-to the depths of my stomach.” lick

“Paul.” gasp, on the cusp of a nip to your inner thigh. “Husband.” gasp, this one is softer, your thigh gets a kiss now. “Let me- I can tend to you instead, you don’t have to do this.”

He laughs into your curls, and the tip of his nose glistens with you. His eyes are half lidded, more animal in heat than man. You’re truly too sweet for words, for the looming threat that is Paul Atreides. Desperate to perform your wifely duties, it’s much more bearable for you to degrade yourself by pleasing your husband than it is to imagine that what would truly please him would be burying his face in your beautiful cunt.

He doesn’t say any of this to you, however, because there are times when Paul prefers you just as on edge as you like to keep yourself. Your fingers twitch and slowly unfurl, but your growing hope that this strange torture will stop is dashed as Paul dives down to suck on your swollen bud. You’re surprised by how sensitive it is, how it twitches and throbs under his tongue’s attention.

Your fingers seek out the bed beneath you, begging for its help, trying to claw through the mattress itself. Paul’s fingers are digging into the meat of your thighs now, like you’re a piece of bread he can tear through to devour your innards. Your inexperience rears its head in a terribly embarrassing way, you don’t know where to look or how to push him away or how to fight against your body’s response. Your mind whispers that you want to card your shaky fingers through his hair, but you don’t, you do not.

If not because you’re determined to maintain the distance you share with Paul, then because he would enjoy it too much. He’s terrible, in a subtly sinister way, but he would drink up your every touch and scrap of affection like a parched tree.

“This cunt, it makes me sick. This hole… you’re so wet, my flower.” The syllables drip from his pink mouth like the drool that pools in your entrance. “You send me over the cliff into madness, ever since the first moment I saw you. My wife in everything but name, the missing vessel of my soul.”

Paul kitten licks your clit, tenderly raking his nails up and down your squirming legs. You act as if you can buck off your incoming orgasm like a wild horse, like your husband eating you out is a serpent wrapped around your sternum. Luckily, it’s in his DNA to tame unruly creatures, bring them to heel under his stern outstretched hand.

You mewl, a soft hearted creature at heart, practically purring, “Please.”

“Please, what? You know I’d be more than happy to give my wife whatever her heart desires. Have you forgotten my vows already? Maybe your brain is leaking out your cunt.” Paul inquires suggestively, he flattens his tongue over your hole and stills, the corners of his mouth hike up when you inevitably rock your hips against his face.

“I… why did you stop?” You don’t say that if he’s so desperate to meld your skin together then why is he ceasing his overbearing actions, but that might come across as disrespect, and Paul seems to enjoy disrespect because he can make you wish you had never been anything but the pet cleaning his feet.

A wife is not disrespectful, especially one that will soon become an even greater royal. You are blessed to have this life, as unwanted as it is, you could be a concubine, one of his father’s perhaps. Time will tell if you wish to belong to a different Atreides, but you are anchored to the present with every useless thrust your hips do.

“That’s alright, if you’ll only let me make you come by wearing yourself out, then I don’t mind. Be my quest, my love.” Paul chuckles, though it’s muffled in your folds.

You make him forget what time it is, what his next schedule will be and who he will have to navigate interacting with. History must be looking kindly on House Atreides once again, because you seem to be heading for a day wasted in bed after he’s done with you. It will be a great help to have a wife whose head is too high up in the clouds to place another cinder block on your already strenuous load.

He guesses Gurney and Duncan are right, being “pussy whipped” does exist. He can’t wait to come to meetings with his wife’s pleasure hanging off his body like the finest jewelry.

You speak again, your tone is irritated and breathless with anticipation, “D-dear. Please, husband, I feel strange, I know I’m doing it wrong. I’m sorry.”

That usually works, right? Husband’s like it when their Wife’s apologize when they believe they’re solely in the wrong. Paul seems to join them in that, nevermind that the only thing wrong you could ever do is place yourself as a separate being from him. Marriage is not for people who are content with being untethered to their lover, it’s for the howling monsters who imbed it at the center of their selves.

“Hm, that’s what I thought. This doesn’t have to be something you force yourself to endure, I can make you feel so good if you allow me.” He whispers and tightens his hold on your thighs, spreading them farther and diving back in for thirds, fourths, fifths, sixths, sevenths.

You moan louder than you thought yourself capable of, and Paul matches you with a deep one of his own that comes from the back of his throat. He slips his tongue back in your hole, his dark eyes keep watch so he can catalog every miniscule change in your expression to comb over like one of his precious digital logs. You are fire made into a humanoid being, searing curves climbing over the golden sheets like a flood of flame, your limbs searching out any reprieve from how irrevocably your lust penetrated your body.

Paul’s eyes flit towards the bundle of restraints in the corner of the room, not hidden from your line of sight, you’ve just stupidly never noticed them. You don’t notice the thought slithering around in your subconscious until it’s brought to the forefront. He opens his jaw as wide as he possibly can and does everything in his power to swallow you whole, thrusting his tongue in you until your previous self pools below your ass and wets his chin.

He would play with your clit like he’d rather take it and fidget with it when political matters get too stressful, but you arch your back as he goes to take his hands away from your thighs and his mind is made up for him. See? You really are shaping up to be an outstanding wife.

He curls his palms around the thickest part of them, pushing them apart until you whine at the slightest hint of a burn. Paul wants to show you that you can be split on more than just his cock.

You hear his voice in your head now, reverberating throughout the halls of your skill. It seems so hollow, like a bird’s, the whooshing sounds of his suggestions rattle your foundation.

A faint bundle of heat flutters in your cunt, from your clit to the precise tongue pistoning in and out of your loosening hole. Paul’s dark stare impales you into place, leaning on your elbows in this once cold marriage bed, all the trappings of luxury.

My beloved wife.

The wind fanning my flames just by existing.

You are so very dear to me, when you slump in defeat, when you laugh, when you think I’m not looking. I always am.

Gorgeous girl with a cunt most of my men would fall on their weapons to weep at your feet in hopes for a taste.

You’re so sleepy, so lax. Oh, I know. You can drift, my flower, I’ll be here, I’ll keep you anchored.

Your maids have been bored, I’ve noticed. They should be happy to change these sheets when I summon them tomorrow, life itself clutched in their hands.

Let go, my love, drench my tongue and my face, I want you to spray it so far your come coats the back of my throat. You never did give me a suitable wedding gift.

Your body assumes its own battle stance, locked up tight right before your spine feels like it’s been snapped by an invisible force. Your orgasm burns its way out of you, but you choke on how cooling it is at the same time. You’re lost to him, too out of it to be able to tell how you adorned your husband. You feel drying wet skin nuzzling between your thighs, you hear sheets being rustled in your mind as Paul blows steady air onto your clit.

Your fingers find their way through his brown almost-tresses as the small licks start again, rekindling.

[meiiie]

﹒⪩📷⪨﹒timothée chalamet - mood board﹒⪩🕰️⪨﹒

have you guys seen willy wonka omg it was so fire

reqs are open for mood boards