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seresinhangmanjake · 4 months

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Do You Love?

Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x wife!reader

Summary: Feyd is soft for his wife and only wants to know if she loves him. His wife just wants him to come home.

Notes/Warnings: fluff and a little angst and very light smut (still 18+), softy-soft Feyd, probably could do with a wedding prequel if people were interested, im sure there are typos. I think that's it.

Words: 1400

Feyd-Rautha Masterlist

He hates being away from you. Can't bear it. It takes less than two days for withdrawal from your lack of presence to settle in, and when it hits, it hits hard. The luminescence of your smile that threatens the darkness within him on his worst days; the delicate suppleness of your skin that introduced him to the softness and warmth of a human body; the specific quality and tone of your voice when you whisper and whimper and moan in his ear—he needs it. He needs you. He craves you until the second you’re in his arms again. He just wishes he could understand if you feel the same. He wishes he could know if you love him as much as he does you.

When you came into his life, you were a pawn for peace. A gift from one Great House to another. A reluctant bride who couldn’t choke back her tears on her wedding day. He’ll never forget the saltiness that lingered on his lips after the kiss that bound you to him forever. He can still feel the pang in his heart from seeing you finch when he guided the strap of your nightgown off your shoulder.

It took ages for you to shed your fear; to allow him to hold you and kiss you and be inside of you, but those many months of ‘two steps forward, one step back’ have left him in a paralyzing state of identity crisis and uncertainty. You’ve turned him into a man who begs for scraps of reassurance that you care for him rather than a man who shows no mercy for love; a man so preoccupied with thoughts of his wife’s affection that not even his enemies are granted his full attention as he watches the light drain from their eyes.

From the moment he leaves, he anticipates his return so you can quell his agitation, at least to some degree. The same words echo in his head each time he steps off a Harkonnen ship to search for you—hug me, hold me, kiss me, let my body inside of yours, tell me you love me—and in recent months you haven’t failed to do those things, with the exception of the last request. The day you tell him you love him will be the day he stops fearing you'll eventually grow bored with him. On that day, he’ll be happy, at peace. He’ll be unafraid of what his future with you will bring.

—

Reader POV

He often goes to Arrakis for a week or two, that’s not new. He must monitor things and fight Fremen when necessary. However, this time was different. There was something foreign in his eyes after he kissed your palm and boarded his ship to depart. Sadness? Pain? Worry? All three? You didn’t know, but it terrified you from how little he tried to disguise it. With each departure, it’s seemed his mood has worsened and you can't decipher its cause.

Now, ten days later, your fingernails are worn to nubs and dark circles have found home under your eyes from nightmares interrupting your sleep. They’re different every night but they always end with Feyd not coming home to you, and you don’t know how to cope. You tell yourself you’re crazy, that there’s no possibility of him being taken down with a Fremen knife or gobbled up by a sandworm or blown to bits from his ship getting shot out of the sky. He’s too smart, too quick, too trained for such things to claim his life. At the same time, however, the last person whose death you dreamt of was your mother’s, and while it’s rare your dreams are prophetic, that one came to fruition not five days later. Who is to say your dreams of your husband are not the same?

But you can’t lose Feyd, not when it feels like you just got him. When you married, your dread of navigating a new husband and life on Giedi Prime—both of which have a reputation for being cold and desolate and harsh—crippled your ability to see him for who he is. It’s only been the last few months that you’ve let yourself love and understand him, and you can’t imagine a reality in which you wake one morning knowing you will never have him again. You wouldn’t survive it.

But you won't have to, because he's fine, perfectly safe—that's what you tell yourself. He told you he wouldn’t be away long and he wouldn’t say that unless he believed it, right?

Then again, believing he would be home soon doesn’t mean fate agrees. What if he's already gone? Wait, no. No, he wouldn't do that to you. He'll be home because he always makes it home. He’s fine. He’s safe. He would never leave you. You nod to yourself, swallowing hard. He’s fine. He’s safe. He would never leave. He’s fine. He’s safe. He would never leave.

Your body curls into the first touch of warmth you’ve had in a week and a half as a heavy weight rests in the dip of your waist and tugs you against a solid form. Plush lips ghost your temple. A heartbeat thrums in your ear and you feel the rise and fall of a chest.

Oh, you like this dream. He’s so real in this dream. It’s the first dream where death is not at his heels.

“You don’t know how I miss you,” he mutters into your ear. Stands of your loose hair brush back from your face. “How unbearable it is.”

His voice is so clear, so beautiful and vivid that it’s almost like he’s really with you. Humming contently, you huddle further into him. “Then stop leaving me,” you mumble.

Breath catches in his chest, no longer moving at a steady rhythm. “You're awake?”

Your brows knit—that's not a very ‘dream-like’ question; it threatens your lovely illusion—and then your eyes snap open.

“Feyd?” His nose is an inch from yours. Your hand raises to cup his cheek, just to see if he is real, and you gasp at how warm his skin is under your palm. “You're here,” you cry, quickly pushing him onto his back and crawling on top of him.

You press your lips to his, hard. A whimper is pulled from your throat when he parts his mouth so you can get a taste of his tongue. Yes, he’s definitely real.

Hands trail down your back to your ass, squeezing two handfuls of flesh and pushing your pelvis down onto his. He’s already hard and thick and pressing into you, the matching thin material of your nightgown and his sleep pants doing a pathetic job of maintaining any sort of barrier.

Feyd slowly drags the ink-toned silk up the curves and dimples of your body until it pools at your waist. Fingers graze your skin as they move lower to slide through your slick bare folds, and at his touch, your brain goes absolutely fuzzy. You’re unashamedly desperate, refusing to take any longer to get what you need, but when you finally free him from his pants and he thrusts up into you, you both find yourselves stopping. The kiss breaks and you simply breathe in each other’s breaths as he stays nestled deep inside you.

Your forehead falls to his. A fresh tear that you hadn’t noticed in your eye lands on his cheek. “You're ok,” you gently whimper, reassuring yourself of his safety. His nose nudges yours.

“When am I not?” he whispers as he catches the next tear with his thumb before it drops from your lower lashes.

“In my nightmares.”

His brow pinches in curiosity, cock twitching within your walls. “You dream about me?”

You lightly nod. “I thought this was a dream.”

“Why?”

“Because I had a sickening feeling you weren’t going to make it back this time. I know it was a routine trip, but I just couldn’t shake it,” you say. “And that would’ve killed me, Feyd. I love you.”

Feyd sucks in a short stream of air as his hips slightly buck up against yours. “You love me?” he repeats.

“Yes,” you exhale, riding the little high of pleasure that came from the sharp involuntary shift of his hips. “I was so scared to be right.”

Feyd's arms tighten around you and he tilts his chin up to connect your lips. Kisses travel along the line of your jaw and down the length of your neck. His tongue dips into the hollow of your throat.

“I love you,” he tells you.

Your stuffy chuckle settles into a grin. “I know you do.”

---

tag: @avidreader73

#feyd rautha x reader #feyd rautha x you #feyd rautha #dune part 2 #austin butler #feyd rautha harkonnen #dune

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puckinghischier · 3 months

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Cart Girls & Curly Q’s

Luke Hughes x fem!reader

summary: luke has a crush on the cart girl

notes: for once, i feel like i didn’t really struggle while writing luke. this probably isn’t one of my best works, but i loved the idea and i’m so glad i was able to try to bring it to life. hope you enjoy!! happy reading! 🫶🏼

request: from my 400 follower celly - “You come here often?” “Well, I work here. So I think I’d have to say yes.” with Luke and maybe a cart girl at the golf club close to the summer lake house?

[3k]

Most of your friends absolutely hate going to work in the summertime. They hate being stuck in an office or storefront all day, no chance to enjoy the high UV and prime lake hours.

You, however, never wake up dreading your work.

During the cold, Michigan winters, you work as a bartender at your college’s local bar. You attend your classes in the morning, do your homework in the afternoon, then clock into your shifts at night. You have the routine down to a science.

During the summers, though, you found a job as the cart girl at the uppity country club closest to the large community of expensive lake houses you drive by every morning.

The tips are amazing, and getting paid to drive around in the sunshine and watch attractive men play golf all day is what you call a small piece of paradise. Not to mention you’re off by five o’clock every day, allowing time to join your friends and family out on the boat for night swims and evening rides.

Today was especially good, with it being one of the hottest days of the summer, your sales were sky high.

You’ve already had to restock your beer cooler three times this morning, and it’s barely even noon.

Your boss has really been pushing the sale of liquor, so you inform every group you pass about your buy a double, get a single shot half off deal, but nothing calls to a man more than a cold beer on a hot golf course.

Many of the men you’ve served today have given you a tip simply because you’re out working in the heat, delivering beers ‘like an angel’ one middle aged man told you, handing you an extra ten.

You just laughed and told him thank you, pocketing the cash. You always loved weekend mornings, locals and vacationers alike all over the course, upping your sales, and as a result, your tips.

As you’re leaving the club house after yet another restock, you see a group of guys that you assumed were around your age.

They were being loud, but not obnoxious, as they piled into two carts and sped their way out to the course, eager to get their game started.

You wondered when you would see them, having been told not to bother people until they’re at least on hole two. Apparently, people get mad when you try to sell them alcohol in the middle of their first stroke.

Making your way around your normal path, you start at hole eight and work your way in a circle until you get back to the clubhouse, the later holes being your big money makers. People are either celebrating their lead or mourning their loss at that point, wanting a drink either way.

You sell a few shots, making your boss happy no doubt, but run out of beers for the fourth time that day around hole sixteen. You stop and offer to each group after that, selling a few more liquor items, but were mostly told to come back when you had beer again.

Flying down the cart path, you see the same group of guys from earlier around hole seven, one out of the group flagging you down as you speed by.

You slow your cart down to a stop and they walk over to meet you, grabbing their wallets from their carts as they approach you.

“Sorry, boys, out of beer. On my way back to the clubhouse now to restock if you want to wait a few,” you tell them once they’re within ear shot, not wanting to get their hopes up.

“Well, do you have anything you can sell us? I’m getting beat pretty bad out here and need a pick me up. Don’t really care what it is,” a brunette pleaded.

You tell him about the shot deals, and he hands you his I.D., requesting a double shot of crown and ginger-ale before turning and asking his cart buddy what he wanted.

“Jack, what do you want?” he calls over to a guy that looked similar to him, thinking to yourself that they could be brothers.

He explains the discount to the other brunette, saying he’s already paid, just to pick what he wanted.

After viewing the second player’s I.D., your brother theory is confirmed by their matching last name.

Jack, you learned, asked for a simple, funnily enough, Jack and coke.

“Alright, gentlemen, anything else I can do for you?” you ask, turning to face the last member of the group.

You make eye contact with a tall, curly-headed boy, noticing the pink tone of his cheeks when you catch him staring at you.

“Anything for you, curly Q?” you ask him, taking note of how attractive he was. You always play up the flirting a little when you find a player on the course attractive, figuring it’ll help your sales while simultaneously allowing you to have a little fun.

His cheeks turn an ever-deeper shade of red when he realizes you’re talking to him, freezing up and averting his eyes. You feel a little bad for putting him on the spot, but you find his shyness endearing.

“Nah, Lukey here isn’t old enough, is he Quinny? Still got a few months till you can drink with the big bros. Isn’t that right, Luke?” the brunette named Jack slaps who you’ve now learned is Luke on the back.

You let out a chuckle, witnessing the deadly glare Luke shoots at his older brother.

“Don’t worry, they picked a cart girl that isn’t even old enough to drink, either. Won’t be able to drink the concoctions I make until next spring,” you tell him, hoping to alleviate a little of the embarrassment you caused him.

“Oh, wow,” is all he utters out, bringing out another laugh from you.

“Alright, well, I’ll let you boys get back to your game,” you tell them, walking back over to get back into your cart.

You ride off, thinking of the tall, curly brunette the whole time.

Three hours later, you’re tending the clubhouse bar.

When you came back in for restock, your boss told you it was too hot for you to keep your role as cart girl all day, insisting you switch out with one of your coworkers.

You weren’t too upset with the trade off, now in air conditioning but still getting tips from buzzed players after their game, either nursing their loss or celebrating their win.

The clubhouse gets busier as the day goes on, people dipping in for a quick cool off after playing eighteen holes in the heat.

“Hey, new body down on the end. Care to get it for me?” your co-tender, Brady, asks you, the two of you working in tandem.

You nod at him as you finish pouring the beer in your hand, walking down to the other end of the bar.

“Hey, player, what can I get for ya?” you ask the stranger, not looking up as you place a coaster in front of the patron.

“Just-Just a water, if you don’t mind,” he asks, slightly stumbling his words.

You look up to see the curly brunette, Luke, from earlier.

“Oh, it’s you. Curly Q,” you say, grabbing a glass and filling it with ice.

“Name’s Luke, actually,” he tells you, the redness from earlier returning to his cheeks.

“Yeah, I remember. Just think Curly Q fits you better,” you smirk at him, placing the glass full of water on his coaster. “I’m Y/N.”

He mumbles a small thanks, taking a sip from the glass.

“Anything else I can get for you?” you ask him, glancing down the bar to see if any new customers have sat down.

He stares at you, his eyes caught like a deer in headlights.

You wait patiently for an answer, letting out a small giggle when he just continues to stare at you.

“Alright, well I’ll let you think about your answer and be right back,” you laugh as you start to walk away.

“Wait!” Luke startles you, stopping you in your tracks. “Uhh..do you…come here often?” he stutters out, closing his eyes tightly in embarrassment as soon as the words leave his mouth.

Your eyes shine at him with amusement. “Well, I work here, so I think I’d have to say yes,” you respond, smiling.

Luke peeks one eye open at you, seeing your amused expression and sighing, letting his body sag.

“Yeah, I don’t know why I asked that,” he runs his hand through his curls nervously.

You rest your arms on the bar in front of you. “Ehh, don’t worry about it,” you tell him, scrunching your nose as you shake your head.

Luke gives you a nervous smile, sliding his water towards his body and running his finger around the rim of the glass.

“I’m sure you talk to all kinds of idiots like me when you’re serving drinks, huh?” he asks, making your face fall a bit at his defeated tone.

You stand a little straighter. “Nah, not really. Most of the idiots I talk to are just old and creepy, not my age and charming,” you tell him, finally earning a laugh from him.

His laugh was more of an amused scoff, but you already want to see the shy smile that makes its way onto his face afterwards, again.

“Yeah, cause a guy that asks you if you come to your job often is the epitome of charming,” he looks up at you.

“Well, it’s kept me here talking to you so far, hasn’t it?”

Luke blushes, making you think the man in front of you is unable to go two minutes without his face turning red.

“Yeah, I guess it has,” he casts his eyes towards his lap.

“So, Luke, you a local or here on vacation?” you ask him, glancing down at the quickly clearing stools. You know Brady is getting all of your tips right now, but you can’t bring yourself to move from your spot.

“Well, a little bit of both. Technically on vacation because I live in New Jersey now, but my parents have owned a lake house here since I was a kid, so I claim the title of a local,” you finally get him to loosen up a little, his body language relaxing. “Plus I went to U of M for a little while, so I’ve spent quite a bit of time over in Ann Arbor.”

“Ahh, a city boy,” you tease, grabbing a glass to wipe down, making it look like you’re at least partially doing your job. “Why’d you leave Ann Arbor?”

“Got a…uh…job offer in Jersey,” he tells you cryptically, eyes darting around the room.

“‘A uh…job offer?’ What are you, in the mafia?” you ask him, mimicking his words and poking fun at his nervousness at telling you about his job.

“Well, not quite,” he starts, laughing a real laugh this time, causing you to mentally record the sound and store it in your brain. “I…ahhh…I play hockey up there.”

Your eyebrows raise in surprise. “Like, professionally?”

He sinks back into his seat, looking like he wants to hide.

“Yeah. For the New Jersey Devils. My brother, Jack plays for them, too,” He tries to pass some of the attention off of himself.

“Wait, you and your brother both play in the NHL?” the impressed tone of your voice gives Luke a little boost of confidence.

“Well, both of my brothers, actually. But Quinn plays for the Canucks up in Vancouver. Jack and I are both in Jersey, though.”

You let your mouth hang open at him, not being able to hide your shock.

This earns another laugh from Luke.

“What kind of superhuman DNA do your parents possess?” you ask him.

“Not sure. We’re still being studied as we speak,” Luke leans closer, whispering like he’s telling you a secret. “The big wigs in the NHL haven’t found out yet that they grew us in test tubes in their basement.”

You let out a laugh so loud that you gain the attention of several men on the other end of the bar, slapping your hand over your mouth.

Luke leans back in his seat, a fond smile on his face as he sees your embarrassed expression.

“Hey, Y/N, you gonna come help me do your job or what?” you hear Brady yell, annoyed that he’s been working the whole bar alone for the past ten minutes.

You roll your eyes while still facing Luke, removing your hand from your mouth and turning your head to respond. “Yeah, don’t get your club all bent, I’ll be right there.”

Luke’s still smiling at you when you turn back to face him.

“Guess that’s my cue to get back to my job and quit talking to cute boys sitting at the bar, huh?” you spew, realizing what you just said a second too late.

Luke’s eyebrows shoot up, his back straightening in surprise.

You pause all movements, staring at Luke.

“Uhh…anyways, gotta go do my job. Y’know, the thing I come around often for?” you make a call back to Luke’s attempt at a line earlier, hoping it take some of the attention off of what you just said.

Luke chuckles at you. “Yeah, I need to go meet back up with my fellow lab rats, anyways,” he tells you, reaching for his wallet, placing a twenty down on the bar.

“You do realize water is free, right?” you tell him, sliding the bill back to him.

“Yeah. Figured I’d try to make up for the tips I caused you to lose, though,” he shrugs his shoulders, standing from his chair.

“Nope, I’m not taking your money. Feels like you’re just paying me for talking to you,” you tell him, holding the money out towards him and shaking it around, trying to make him take it.

Luke shakes his head at your stubbornness. “C’mon, just take it. Your coworker collected all kinds of tips while you were over here.”

“Nope,” you shake your head, leaning over and grabbing Luke’s arm, placing the money in his hand.

“I need to do something, though. I feel bad causing you to lose out on money that should’ve been yours,” he insists.

“Well, I guess I’ll let you make it up to me,” you start, watching him try to lay the money down again and shooting your arm out, preventing him from doing so. “By giving me your number,” you decide to be bold.

Luke goes still. “Uhh, y-yeah. Sure,” he snaps out of his momentary freeze, fumbling for his phone, handing it over to you.

You put your number in his phone, sending yourself a text before handing it back with a wink.

“I guess I’ll talk to you later?” Luke asks, pushing his stool in.

You nod your head yes, turning to go back to your job duties.

You turn back around after you take a few steps, seeing Luke walking away with his back turned.

“Hey, Curly Q!” you call after him, causing him to turn to look at you. “I get off at five, in case you were wondering,” you shout towards him, flashing a smirk before you walk away.

Luke smiles and shakes his head, making his way towards the other side of the clubhouse.

You watch his figure as he moves across the room, stopping to make small talk with a man, shaking his head before joining his brothers at a small table on the restaurant side of the clubhouse, picking up his menu and browsing the food selection.

You smile to yourself and go back to stacking glasses.

As you’re transferring a new stack of clean glasses to the cooler under the bar, you hear someone call your name from above you.

You stand, rattling off your typical greeting to the new customer.

“Someone named Luke asked me to give this to you,” he tells you, handing you the same twenty-dollar bill Luke had tried to hand you a few minutes prior.

You pick up the bill as the stranger walks away, looking down at it before raising your head and looking for the curly headed culprit.

You meet Luke’s eye, raising a brow at him while lifting the paper money, pointing at it.

Luke shrugs his shoulders and grins from across the room.

Months later, when you’re attending your first ever Devils game in support of your newly titled boyfriend, you watch him skate out on the ice for warm ups, making a bee-line to the seat he provided for you.

He looks at you in his Jersey, a sight he pictured from the moment he first saw you on the golf course last summer, wondering how he managed to impress the pretty cart girl he embarrassed himself with, what feels like so long ago.

Your smile took up your entire face as you waved at him, excited to finally see him play in person. He smiles back, pointing down to the ground, asking if you wanted a puck.

You nodded your head yes, watching him pick up a puck and take the cover off of a small cut out in the plexiglass separating the two of you.

When he slides the puck through the hand sized hole, you grab onto his glove, replacing the puck with a piece of paper before pushing his hand back towards him.

He looks down at his hand, confusion written all over his face. He opens his glove, looking down at his hand, his head snapping up to look at you once he realizes what you had done.

“There’s your tip, hot shot!” you shout at him through the glass, smiling in amusement, seeing the same twenty-dollar bill from the first day you met him resting in his red glove, never imagining that the nervous, bumbling boy sitting in front of you at the bar that day would make you feel like the luckiest girl in all of Michigan, and now New Jersey.

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charliemwrites · 9 months

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Bark bark bark awoooo

No content warnings

You’re gonna fucking combust.

Somehow, someway, this is Johnny’s fault. You’re not sure how yet, so he it isn’t fair for him to be in trouble, but you know it.

“This is your fault,” you tell him, pouting in bed — bare ass naked, but that means nothing to him, he’s a dog. He cocks his head, and you wave your (broken) vibrator at him. “I don’t know how, but it is. Is this because I wanna chop your balls off?”

His mouth closes, eyes big - like he actually understands you. In your horny delirium, you almost believe he really does.

You flop onto your back with a sigh, eyes a little wet with frustration.

It’s been two months since you last successfully got off. Your vibrator (and its replacement… and its replacement’s replacement) keep breaking, or running out of battery. The plug is defective or falls out of the socket.

Once you successfully got right to the edge - just for it to die. You almost did cry that time.

Sure, there’s your hand. But every time you try ol’ reliable a certain four-legged roommate interrupts one way or another. And when you tried to kick him out of the room, and then ignored the howling, scratching, and general drama - there was loud and rapid knocking at your door.

Like fucking clockwork. If you get anywhere at all, you never get to finish.

It wouldn’t be so bad, either. Your libido isn’t anything crazy, you don’t think. At least it wasn’t before. But now there’s Soap.

Soap who you should not be so attracted to. Who has no sense of propriety or boundaries, who murmurs the dirtiest things to you in the most public and otherwise mundane places. And he just keeps. Showing. Up.

Like he’s got a tracker on you or something. (You’ve checked, he doesn’t.)

He’s like every guilty fantasy you had as a good, studious girl back in high school. The kind of guy to grab your thigh under your parents’ dinner table and take your virginity in the back of his car. Maybe corner you by the lockers between classes to kiss you silly and drive up your absence record.

You never actually went for those boys — and perhaps gratefully, they never went for you. In romance novels, it would be a quaint little coming of age story. The stuff to swoon over. But reality was a lot scarier for you, especially with your older sister always keeping an ear out to report back to your parents and… well, yeah.

You’ve always been a firm introvert, anyway. That’s why you live out in the woods with only a dog for regular company.

But Soap. Soap is some unholy amalgamation of those innocent, shy girl fantasies turned R-rated. Like the grown-up version of those cute YA novels.

And you have no defense for it — except distrust, that is.

Soft-hearted as you are, you know you don’t do casual well. And you know that guys like Soap just like to spin you up and up until you finally give in, think the dreaded words “maybe it’ll work out” despite that rational voice in your head saying, “don’t bet on it.”

Doesn’t stop you from secretly wanting him though.

Fear is the only thing keeping you in check now. Some of it for you own feelings; of getting invested in a guy that has done nothing but treat you like a prime cut of meat. The rest of it is a genuine concern that he might be a bit dangerous. He’s so much bigger than you, visibly stronger. Has gone out of his way to make you uncomfortable (doesn’t matter that a very dark and slutty part of you liked it) and ignored your attempts at brushing him off.

Fear, unfortunately, is beginning to add to the temptation.

“I’m not going to do it,” you tell yourself, or maybe Johnny. Soap’s contact is on the screen. You don’t remember putting it into your phone, but you must have at some point. “Nope. No way.”

You slide a sideways look at Johnny, tail wagging at a steady clip.

“He’s probably a former frat boy or something, right?” you muse.

Snort.

“No, you don’t think so?” you question, sitting up. He happily crawls into your lap when you pat your thighs, chin resting on your tummy. “Nah, you’re right. Could almost imagine him beating the hell out of one for pissing him off.”

A little grumbly noise. You smile and start petting absently over his head and ears, phone forgotten now.

“This is dumb anyway,” you sigh, head tilted back to the ceiling. “You don’t like men. I couldn’t bring him back here.”

Johnny’s ears flick. You giggle and start flopping them around, making airplane noises. Eventually he huffs and starts licking at your face until you stop, complaining that you’ll need to wash off now.

—

“Fuck it.”

Johnny picks his head up, staring at you as you run a hand down your face.

“Fuck it all. I’m going to a bar. I’m getting… I dunno. Laid or something.” Thank god it’s only Johnny here. You don’t think you could live with the embarrassment of someone else hearing the way you talk.

You set your hands on your hips, nod to yourself.

“And if it happens to be Soap, then… sign from the universe, right?” You grimace a bit, striding for your bedroom. “Please don’t let him be a murderer or something…”

For once, Johnny is perfectly behaved as you get ready. He doesn’t try to lick at you when you come out of shower (freshly shaved and lotioned and everything). Sits patiently on the bed as you pick through your closet, even noses at a pretty pink dress you rarely wear but were considering for this.

He doesn’t try to bump your arms or hands while you do your makeup, just watches attentively. You choose a pretty, matching bra-panty set, apply a light spritz of perfume. Hesitate over jewelry.

“Is it normal to wear jewelry when you plan on fucking?” you wander allowed.

A little “boof” from the bed. You’ll take that as a yes.

You decide on a set of faux pearls with a gold heart pendant in the center. Not quite a choker, but high enough on your throat to suggest one. A delicate bracelet, a pair of stud earrings, and you’re just about set.

“Christ, I hate doing this alone,” you mutter, fumbling with the zip on the back of the dress.

Lastly, the shoes.

“Fuck it,” you say again. Your mantra for the evening, apparently. Wobble into a pair of heels, a bow on the outside of each ankle where you buckle them.

You pause when you’re done, giving yourself a once over in the full length mirror. Pleased with what you see. Coquettish and pretty, not necessarily bombshell sexy maybe, at least not on first glance. But the necklace, the heels, the cutouts at the waist of your dress… it’s all exactly what you wanted.

“Alright,” you breathe, tummy swooping with excitement. “I can do this… right?”

Johnny’s gotten down off the bed, is keeping a respectful distance. You appreciate it, don’t want to have to lint roll hair off yourself.

“Oh, god. What if he’s bad?” You ask, giving him a horrified look. “What if he’s been, like, compensating?”

To your shock, he stomps his paw and starts damn near howling. Carrying on and on like he’s bitching you out. You blink in shock, almost laugh — then check the time.

“Oh! Don’t worry, baby. I won’t let you starve!”

You toddle off to the kitchen and prep his dinner, scrunching your nose at the raw chicken and beef liver. He grumbles and fusses the whole way, making you laugh as you pretend to have a whole conversation about the economy with him.

“Okay, bonnie Johnny,” you coo, setting his bowl down. “Be good, okay? If I bring someone back here please don’t eat them, okay?”

More grumbles and whines and growls. You roll your eyes, blow him a kiss, and slip out the door.

You tell yourself you just need action with someone. Don’t admit to yourself that there’s really a specific someone you’re hoping to see.

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#cod #my writing #fanfiction #dark fic #reader fic #woof woof johnny #woof woof au

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melobin · 4 months

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જ⁀➴ wet 𐙚 seunghan

porn plots masterlist

summary. your pools been getting dirty due to your usual pool cleaner being on holiday, your neighbours notice this and decide to offer you the help of their son, who would you be decline such a charming young man a nice, wet job?

wc. 4.1k

warnings. milf!reader x neighbour seunghan, pool cleaner!seunghan, age gap, reader is older than seunghan, reader is a single mother, reader has big tits. tit fucking, blowjob, riding, mentions of spit, unprotected sex, outdoor sex.

a/n. sorry for taking months .. love you all. manifesting his return soon </3.

⋆ ˚｡ ⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡ ⋆

seunghan wasn’t entirely sure just how he ended up torso deep in his neighbours pool, cleaning out the stray leaves that had made their way to the bottom but he was sure that he couldn’t complain. the heat from the sun was burning his skin and the water from the pool helped cool that off, the gaze of the pretty girl who was laying poolside watching him made his skin heat up too.

he felt set up, in a way at least, he only returned home for a few weeks to visit his parents over the summer yet they’d sold him out to clean his neighbour's pool after you had expressed your worry about it getting dirty from the seasons beginning to change. so no, he wasn’t going to complain. he knew who you were from the countless times he had peaked through your bedroom window late at night, it had coincidentally been built directly facing his. he didn’t think he was a pervert, but he did enjoy watching you. you were attractive and he was going to accept any time he got to spend along side of you.

“hannie?” he heard your soft voice call out to him from the doorway of your home, he turned his head and watched as you walked closer to him, a tray in your hand and your lose cardigan slipping down your shoulders “i made you some lemonade” you placed the tray down on the outdoor table before you sat in one of your deck chairs, body relaxing under the sun as you slipped your cardigan off of you and onto the floor. seunghan tried to stop his eyes from trailing down your body but he couldn’t, the bikini you had worn left little to almost nothing to his imagination.

“thank you” his mouth watered as he spoke to you, he was sure you were looking at his body too. he felt as if there was no need for him to wear a shirt so it left his upper body bare under the blistering sun, water droplets from your pool sliding down his body. seunghan had worked hard for his body and he was glad to see that you were enjoying it.

seunghan himself was enjoying you too, he thoroughly enjoyed watching you pick up a bottle of sun tan oil from the table next to you and squirt some on your hands. the task he had at hand was almost completely forgotten about as you ran your hands over your legs, rubbing them over your thighs and underneath the thin straps of your bikini before moving to our stomach. his mouth went dry as he watched you squirt out a little more and then run your hands over your tits. with how small the bikini top you were wearing was, he was sure that it was one pull away from falling off of you. he was in a daze, one that was only broken by the sound of your voice.

“hannie? you should come and take a break, you’ve been at it for about an hour now”

“how did you know? been watching me?” he watched as you giggled before taking a sip of your own drink.

“it’s not everyday i have such an attractive man cleaning out my pool hannie, give an old girl a break” he stepped out of the pool, your eyes fell to the way the sun caused his torso to shimmer under the light. you had to bite your tongue whilst looking at him, he was far too attractive for you to not be admiring him.

“you’re not old” he laughed as he sat on the chair next to you, sitting on the edge so he could face you “i think you’re in your prime” you turned your head to look at him, your eyes barely peaking out from above your sun glasses as you laughed.

“oh really? i’m flattered” seunghan placed his drink down on the table between your chairs, sitting back so he could rest on his hands and look at you. he watched as you took your sunglasses off, he was sure you done it with the purpose of showing him that you were eyeing up his body “it’s hard to properly relax being a single mom with such a young child, i love that boy more than anything but sometimes it’s nice to sit back and not have a care in the world”

“he’s precious, you’re doing a great job with him and i’d be happy to spend some time with him whilst im home” you smiled at him as he continued, eyes still flicking from his damp body to his face “i’d also be more than happy to help you out with whatever you need too” you smiled again, removing your sunglasses and placing them onto the table. you lifted yourself up, slowly moving your legs until you were sat facing him. you leaned forward slightly, being sure that your tits were being squashed together as you did.

“i appreciate that a lot hannie, really” seunghan knew what you were up to but he let you, making no move to stop you as his eyes fell to your tits “is there anything in particular that you’d like to help me out with?”

“is there anything you need help with? i’m skilled in quite a few different fields” you cocked your head to the side, your bare foot gently gliding against the skin of his leg. seunghan shivered at the contact.

“i can see that you know how to handle things that are” you hummed to yourself before finishing your sentence “wet”.

“one would say it’s my specialty” he watched as you sat up a little straighter, he parted his legs, still leaned back on his hands. he looked inviting, he was inviting.

“care to help out with something then? i’d say it’s a little more than just wet though”

“i’d be more than happy to help out, the wetter the better” you stood up at his response, the small gap that was between you was closed immediately. your knees took place against the soft cushion of the deck chair either side of him, your ass settling against his thighs as you sat on his lap, not yet properly straddling him and because of that seunghan thought you were teasing him, he was sure of it. after all of the other things you had done so far, he knew you were.

he was yet to touch you, he restrained himself from lifting his hands off of the chair and grabbing your waist, wanting nothing more than to feel your soft skin under his rough fingers, but he waited. instead, he let you touch him. he watched the delicate features of your face focus as you ran a finger down his chest, the tip of it bumping over the ridges of his abs before you look at his face.

“you take such good care of yourself hannie” you leaned closer to him, he could feel your tits pressing against his bare chest. seunghan was hard, there was no hiding the bulge that had formed in his shorts, no that he wanted to hide it from you anyway, especially after what you done next. the finger you had on his skin wandered down further, tracing over the bulge in his shorts before you opened your hand and pressed down against it, his head fell back slightly as his lips parted. he saw you smile again before you leaned down to kiss him, that was his breaking point.

the moment he felt your lips against his, he lifted his hands and grabbed your waist, fingers dipping under the thin straps of your bikini as he pulled you closer against him. your hand left the top of his shorts and found themselves in his hair, your barely covered cunt had found itself pressing down against his cock instead.

the kiss was wet, it wasn’t long before seunghan’s tongue was pushing into your mouth and his fingers were pulling you down further against his crotch. it wasn’t everyday seunghan got his hands on someone he could only describe as a complete and utter milf - so he wasn’t letting it go without milking everything he could get from her.

seunghan groaned as he felt your fingers pull on the strands of his hair, your hips not so subtly grinding down against his cock. he gave in, letting his hands drop down to the thickness of your ass. he squeezed the flesh in his hands, the bikini you wore had barely covered any of it and he was grateful for that, loving the fact he could feel every inch of your skin as his fingers dug into it. you moaned against his lips, hips now moving smoothly against his. he basked in the way your soft skin felt against him, only growing harder when he thought about the feeling of your bare skin against his.

you broke the kiss, looking down at him with wet lips as a string of silvia broke in between your mouths. seunghan melted at the way you looked at him, pure lust clouding your vision as you ground yourself down against him.

“hannie” you cooed, fingers wrapped in his hair as your other hand held his cheek, the tips of your freshly manicured nails raking soothingly against his skin. he hummed when you said his name, eyes focused on your lips as you spoke “you’ve worked so hard, won’t you let me reward you now”

“you can do whatever you want” you smiled before you got off of his lap, he watched as you took the pillow off of your chair and placed it on the floor, laughing quietly as he realised you were doing it in order to kneel without hurting your knees. seunghan found it endearing.

he wasn’t entirely sure what you were planning to do, he kept his eyes on you as you leaned forward and stuck your tongue out, pressing it against the his torso before slowly dragging your tongue up his skin, letting it linger between the ridges before pulling back and giggling, you swooned over how nice his body was, loving the way your spit glistened against his skin under the sun light.

your fingers trailed down to his shorts, tips of them pushing under the fabric. you were pleased to discover the lack of briefs he had on underneath, it made pulling his shorts down all the more exciting when you were greeted with his hard cock springing out and weighing down against his stomach. droplets of precum slipped from the tip of his cock and landed on his abs, he placed his hands back behind him on the chair as he leaned back. the sight of him like that, bare with his shorts pooled at his ankles made your mouth water, you wanted to taste him badly.

instead, you held yourself back. you reached out and wrapped your hand around the base of his cock, slowly dragging it up before bringing it back down. seunghan didn’t take his eyes off of you, not wanting to miss a second of what you were going to do, and he was pleasantly surprised when you knelt up. you leaned forward, spitting on the head of his cock before stroking him again, making sure to coat all of his cock in your spit. luckily for you, the oil you applied earlier was still slick on your skin and you knew it would be the perfect lube for what you wanted to do.

your hand tightened around the base of his cock as your brought yourself forward, the fingers of your other hand lifted up the middle of your bikini bra before you slipped his cock beneath it, you let it snap back against it as your breasts closed around his cock. seunghan groaned as you pushed them together around it before lifting them up and bringing them back down. the oil on your body mixed with your spit on his cock made him slide between your tits with ease, the plush flesh of them felt incredible rubbing against the girth of his cock and the subtle roughness of the bikini top strap had him shivering. it wasn’t until you looked down and poked your tongue out, letting it graze along the head of his cock that a groan left his lips, the heavy breathing transitioned into deep groans as he tipped his head back and basked in the feeling of you.

the longer it went on, the quicker you moved, stroking his cock with your tits until he couldn’t keep his eyes open anymore and as much as you enjoyed watching him struggle to stay alert, that wouldn’t do. you needed his full attention on you, his eyes on you. so you stopped, it caught seunghan’s attention right away, he could feel the soft skin of your breasts hugging his cock as he looked down at you. he was interrupted as he went to speak, his lips closing as he watched you reach behind your back and pull at the string of your bikini, letting it fall onto the floor and showcasing your breasts to him. seunghan watched you carefully as you wrapped your hand around his cock and brushed the side of it along your nipple, letting him feel the hardened bud for a few moments before pulling it away.

you never let go of his cock, instead you leaned toward him and wrapped your lips around the tip of it, lifting them so you could spit on the head before taking it into your mouth again. you slowly sank your mouth down his cock, immediately taking him as far as you could before lifting your head and doing it again, the speed of your actions increasing as you got into it. the salty taste of his precum melted on your tongue and his voice melted in your ears. even if you were only going to get him once, you were going to show him why older women are always better.

you lifted your head off of his cock before spitting on it again, wanting it as wet and messy as possible as you licked up the side of it before eagerly taking him back into your mouth. your head sinking down all the way on him once you did, deep throating his cock until your eyes were lining with tears and your throat was almost burning. when you lifted back up you went back down, seunghan basked in the low gagging sound you made when his cock hit the back of your throat. he was sure after this time with you he’d become utterly obsessed with you.

you let him lace a hand into your hair and push your head down on him, he wasn’t controlling you but he was ushering you to take him deeper into your mouth, so you did. you took him as deep as you could again, you felt spit begin to dribble from the corners of your mouth. his hips bucked up slightly and he groaned out your name, curses following. he was close, but that didn’t stop you. in fact, it spurred you on more, wanting nothing more than to feel his cum melting against your tongue.

so once you knew it was time, you placed your hands on his thighs and took all of him into your mouth, letting him go as deep as possible before stilling around him, gulping as you felt the first parts of his orgasm hit your throat. you gagged, but continued taking him, your nails digging into his thighs as you did. everything about the moment drove seunghan absolutely fucking insane, from the way you took his cock with ease and eagerly swallowed each and every drop of his cum as if it were your favourite meal to the way your nipples rubbed against his leg, he was losing his mind.

seunghan watched as you slowly lifted your mouth off of his cock, a few droplets of his cum mixed with your spit dripped down the side of it. once you lifted your head to look at him seunghan felt his heart drop to his stomach, his cock barely staying soft when he saw your wide eyes and sweet smile, his cum staining the swell of your lips and dripping down your chin. he leaned forward, running his thumb over the lose liquid and pushing it into your mouth, groaning when you eagerly sucked it off of the muscle. once you pulled your lips off of his thumb with a pop, you leaned back, smiling lazily at him.

“men my age don’t taste that good” you sighed, cocking your head to the side and grinning again, seunghan could still see traces of his cum sat on your tongue.

“girls my age don’t suck me off that good”

“what can i say” you stood up, pressing your hands harder against his knees so you could. seunghan looked at you, his own hands instantly going to the bare skin of your waist. he pulled you closer to him, pressing an open mouthed kiss against the skin of your stomach “older girls do it better hannie” you laced your fingers through his hair and smiled down at him, he smiled back as his fingers trailed down your sides and stopped at the thin, tied straps of your bikini underwear. you watched him as he pulled both sides of the straps at the same time, allowing your underwear to fall onto the floor alongside your bra that you had discarded not too long before. his fingers crawled around your skin and grabbed your bare ass, spreading your cheeks before digging his nails into your skin.

“want to show me what else older girls are good at?” you smiled as he kissed your skin again before letting go.

“lay down for me hannie” he listened to you, laying back on the deck chair and watching you straddled his lap. his cock lay red and hard against his stomach which made it easy for you to press yourself against it. you reached down, separating the lips of your pussy before grinding down against the length of his cock, moaning when you felt the head bump against your slick cunt. you ground yourself against him again before wrapping your hand around his cock and standing it up, readying yourself to sink down on him.

you let your head fall back and your lips part as you felt the head of his cock fill you up, you whimpered as you sank down on him, being sure to take every inch of him before resting your hands against his chest to steady yourself. seunghan groan as you leaned down to kiss him, your hips slowly lifting before moving back down. he appreciated the way you took your time to adjust to the size of him, falling in love with the way your cunt swallowed his cock with ease.

you pushed your tongue into his mouth, your hips beginning to bounce a little quicker against him. he let out a deep moan into your mouth, almost unable to kiss you back due to the way the lips of your pussy were gripping his cock. you ran your fingers up his body, stopping as you gripped his shoulders, breaking the kiss so you could lay your head on his chest.

you dug your fingers into his skin and bounced your hips quicker on him, coming down harder each time. you made sure to rotate your hips as you fucked tourself on him and due to the incline of the chair, seunghan had a perfect view of the way your ass shook each time you did so. he was in awe, lips parted as he groaned lowly at the way your ass looked and how you felt, squeezing him tightly whilst keeping him completely and utterly drenched.

the moans you let out were sweet to his ears, the way you whined out his name only turned him on more. he loved watching you have your way with him and show him what you can do because god, you could do things, but he wanted to take control of you. he needed it. so his grip tightened on your hips, he used his strength to stop you from moving causing you to lift your head up and look down at him, your eyes wide with curiosity. he spoke before you could.

“i might die if i don’t get to fuck you myself” you giggled, slowly lifting yourself off of his cock with a whimper, hearing it slap against his stomach as you climbed off of him. you weren’t sure how he wanted you but seunghan wasn’t afraid of manhandling you in order to show you.

he stood up, grabbing you before laying you down in the deck chair, putting you where he was before he grabbed your legs and lifted them. he pushed them up, placing his feet on the chair as he put your legs over his shoulders, your ankles close to his lips. he grabbed the top of the chair with one hand whilst grabbing his cock with the other, guiding it inside of you before grabbing the top of the chair with that hand too. the position he had you in made you vulnerable, completely bare for him to do what he wanted. he filled you up immediately, not taking his time to push all the way into you before thrusting into you properly. his squatting position made it easy for him to fuck his hips against yours and push his cock as deep as he possibly could.

you grabbed onto his shoulders, pressing your fingers into his skin as you cried out, not bothering to care for the fact someone could hear you or potentially even see you. you didn’t care. no one had ever put you in such a position before, you didn’t even know you were flexible enough to do it, especially at your age. but here you were, body bent in half as seunghan had his way with you. you loved it. seunghan made you feel young again, looked at you and treated you as if you were made of diamonds. a pure gem in a sea of stones. you couldn’t get enough of him.

his hands left the top of the chair and went under you, he gripped your ass and tilted it up a little, somehow driving even deeper into you as he fucked you merciliessly, you were sure the chair under you could’ve broken with the way it was squeaking. the squeaking was barely noticeable though, the other thing seunghan was focused on was you and the way you were crying out for him with each deep, sharp thrust.

he was sweating at this point, the sun beaming down onto the two of you only made the moment even hotter. his skin heating up and his blood boiling, all of it seemingly rushing into his cock as the flesh of your walls tightened around him. he continued looking down at you, his forehead almost pressed against yours with how close he was to you. he could see in your eyes that you were weakening, he could tell from your voice that you were close and seunghan couldn’t wait to experience the feeling of you releasing around him, squeezing him so tightly and using him to draw out your own orgasm.

“hannie i’m getting close” your voice was broken, seunghan simply groaned at the sound of you before moving his hands one last time. one of them returned to its place holding onto the top of the chair and the other moved to your clit, thumb pressing against the soaked bud and rubbing circles against it. you cried out again, your nails digging deeper into his shoulders as your eyes closed “fuck i’m gonna cum hannie i’m gonna cum please don’t stop” your rambling spurred him on to continue, wanting to drive you completely over the edge, and that’s just what he done.

seunghan knew he had hit the jackpot when he felt your slick soak his stomach and thighs, you squirted. he made you squirt. seunghan simply groaned and fucked you harder, taking you through the extreme sensitivity as he let your tightened cunt milk out his own orgasm.

you were worn out, tired as he spilt his cum into you. slowly pulling out and resting your legs back onto the chair before he went to stand up, but you stopped him, signalling him to join you on the chair. it’s how he ended up with his head against your tits and his lips ghosting over the skin there. you played with his hair, humming as you let your body recover.

seunghan wasn’t sure if you were going to hire him to do your pool again, but one thing was for sure, seunghan was never going for a girl his own age again.

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#✧ melody posts #riize smut #seunghan smut #riize seunghan smut

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afewfantasies · 7 months

Text

🗡️ Feyd's Blade 🗡️ - II - A thousand cuts

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 5.1K

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴ��: Feyd-Rautha X Reader

ᴘ��ᴏᴛ: Feyd-Rautha is used to getting exactly what he wants when he wants it. Considering the feelings of another is foreign to him, but he wants to know you. He desires you in every way, so much so he cannot fathom things not going his way. Instead of lashing out Feyd chooses distance. Only his choice of bride is unpopular and his distance leaves you vulnerable.

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: voyeurism, manipulation, attempted sexual assault (not between Feyd & Reader), rage, property destruction, several sexual fantasies, possessiveness.

PART I

🗡️ Feyd's Blade 🗡️ - II - A thousand cuts

“Feyd-Rautha”

You awake in a cold sweat and remove your blankets, the room is dark, the air is muggy. Your ears ring with all the voices you’ve ever heard recount the man's name. Closing your eyes as it begins again, focusing hard, concentrating you find your fathers voice. Taking deep breaths you hold onto the sound of it. His cadence stands out, the way he spoke and the promise he held in his voice for the name. Vaguely you remember being five or so and making Feyd a bracelet for his birthday. Leather and metal weaved together in an intricate braid. The heat draws you from the memories and away from the life you once had. Unbuttoning your sleep top you opt for a delicate babydoll. Swallowing hard you look up trying to find the source of the heat or a panel to control the temperature settings. You pad around the room the lights illuminating right ahead of you as if controlled by sensors. Unable to find the control panel you find yourself at a large window. Looking out at Giedi Prime at night you find a strange beauty in the depths of the darkness. Placing your hand on the glass you find it cool and lean against it. Perhaps so many years in Arrakis had affected their ability to sense heat.

Feyd watches you from his personal quarters. He’d tried falling asleep for hours after coming hard from visions of you washing yourself. His eyes couldn’t get enough of you. He was making mental notes for all the ways he would have you. He imagined being beside you, cleaning your soft skin and touching all the parts of you no other man would. He needed to see you again, all of you, while he enjoyed watching you sleep peacefully he needed to lay eyes on what was his once more. Managing the console he decided to turn up the heat. He’d watched you stir for a few minutes tossing and turning, tossing off your coverings until there were no more, he watched you change into a small silk bed set, one he’d picked out in his travels. He couldn’t place it, the thing about you that drew him in, that quieted all other distractions. It had been so when he was a boy as well. There’d been a million other things for him to do while on his visit, it wasn’t custom that boys remembered their betrothed. He certainly wasn’t expected to spend as much time with you as he did but he had been fascinated by you at a young age. He’d only been privy to the harshness and cruelty of the Harkonnen way. His brother was a brute and his uncle made men shudder. Strength was celebrated among his kind and there you were. Perhaps it was the amount of care he saw being poured into you. How your room had been colour coordinated with colours that reflected happiness, or that anyone could be so attentive to create such an atmosphere. Perhaps it was the scented air that was pumped in to wake you up and the alternative fragrance provided to settle you in bed. Young Feyd watched everyone dote on you endlessly, it was something he couldn’t identify with and therefore felt jealous of. But then he’d looked into your crib after witnessing person after person fuss at you.

The resentment only lasted a moment, you looked up at him with a toothless smile and he was yours from that moment. Your little hand around his finger and he was committed. There was no love, just a connection and dedication. It was pure and innocent. Feyd had only wanted to be another member of your host of caregivers. He imagined himself happy in your home world, happy among your people and eventually happy with you. Now, there was no one alive with enough power and resources to give you the life you deserved. He could care for things, his knife collection was extensive, there were over a thousand rare blades all still sharp to the touch. He knew every one of them intimately, he knew what they were capable and best used for. Which cut objects best, which cut through skin, which were mostly decorative and which caused the most pain. Which worked best with poisons and there were even a few rare relics that could also throw flames. Each was a work of art. Each protected dearly from corruption, damage and the outside world. Preserving them and enjoying them as they were designed to be used was Feyd’s and only Feyd’s responsibility. He intended to do the same thing with you. His most prized possession. Equalising the temperature he heads out of his room determined to spend the day getting to know you. Heading out to find a snack for his viewing pleasure he seizes at the sight of you barefoot, unguarded and lost with a large black robe draped over you.

Turning he walks over to face you, your eyes grow in size as you look him over. Feyd-Rautha would never fail to be striking, the hairlessness of him and those deep dark eyes, the strong chest and rippled abs. His expression asks the question before his lips can.

“Is everything well?” He asks. Looking up at him you swallow, averting your eyes from his muscular build.

“Parched, I was looking for water” you explain and Feyd nods in understanding. He stands holding out his large lethal hand. You look over the gesture unsure. Feyd-Rautha is a killer but he is also the man your father chose to have your hand. Looking at his hand again you relent, placing yours within him. Feyd gives you the surprise of a smile as he brings your hand to his lips placing a chaste kiss on it. It was against everything you had ever learned about the Harkonnen way. The Harkonnen were brutal men with insatiable appetites for whatever it was they loved; money, resources, respect, sex. They would get drunk on it, get their fill and let it destroy them. Per every contemporary record Feyd-Rautha’s appetites were for blood and respect. Kindness and gestures of flattery were beneath him, even with his uncle the Baron and arguably the second most powerful under the emperor.

“I’ve yet to figure out what you hope to gain from this arrangement” you comment against your better judgement. The Reverend mother had always commented on your lack of impulse control. It was a shock to everyone that you managed to withstand the pain of the box and avoid the Gom Jabbar.

“Willing submission, to be the first person you think of when you wake and the last at night before sleep takes you. Your body, your laughter, your smiles, all of your tomorrows, your arousal, desire, trust and your unconditional love” Feyd-Rautha’s words couldn’t come as more of a surprise. Your heart flutters but you don't know if you can trust it. You try to remove your hand from his, uncomfortable with his desires but his grip tightens forbidding it. Feyd has enough decency to allow you the reprieve of looking away as you enter another room in the labyrinth that is the palace. He pulls out a chair at a small irregularly shaped table and seats you before heading into a dimly lit room. You watch him curiously and he returns with a carafe of water and a fresh glass.

“Thank you” you mutter while taking a drink to quench your thirst. Feyd’s eyes never leave yours. You look away from him examining the room, it's very similar to the rest, simple, void of colour but somehow stately impressive.

“Nothing else to say?” He asks.

“Where is the Mentat that’s been stationed outside of my quarters”

“You wound me,” Feyd smiles.

“On assignment to retrieve something I think you’ll enjoy,” Feyd says.

“What may that be?” You ask curiously.

“Your mother used to send me your family archives, videos of milestones. It was brought to my attention that perhaps a piece of your home world could lessen the transition.” His words are such a surprise, you don’t remember anything of the sort. Nodding you try your best to make sense of his kindness. The intensity of his eyes never falters, the weight of them is immense as he tracks your every movement.

“What is it? Why are you staring?” You ask feeling self-conscious.

“You’re beautiful” he says. His words are shocking. The Harkonnens weren’t paragons of beauty, they were destroyers of it - historically. And somehow in its own strange and sterile way perhaps there was a beauty to this planet.

“Why don’t you get dressed, let me arrange an early breakfast and I can show you around while it’s being prepared” Feyd offers standing. You hadn’t realised your glass and the small carafe were now empty, he must’ve been tracking it.

“Ok” you nod. Standing he leaves the table as is holding out a hand again. You take it surprised by its consistent warmth. His stride is wide and it’s hard for you to keep up, when he realises he slows running his thumb along your hand so you can keep pace. Feyd's actions confuse you to no end. His requirements of you replaying in his head, unconditional love - a tremendous ask of a stranger. You stiffen when you see he can open the doors of your chambers only for it to amuse him, he smirks stepping into the rooms like they’re just as much his. It’s unnerving, he’s a dangerous man, a powerful man with an effervescent virility. Heading into your quarters you find suitable garments and apply them in a few minutes before emerging to Feyd now wearing a shirt. He smiles, removing your headpiece.

“You don’t have to hide your beauty, not around me”

“Around who then?” You ask as he takes your hand kissing it again.

“No one, people know better” he remarks..

“I know better than most that safety can’t be guaranteed” you confess.

“It can,” he affirms.

“You’re a passionate man, with a penchant for danger anything could happen. If you refuse the Princess’ hand the sisterhood will turn on you. People make side comments about Bene Gesserit witches but they are influential” you advise as he walks you into a cylinder.

“The Princess?” he smirks.

“Yes” you respond.

“I’m not interested” he confesses just as you shoot up. You’re terrified and he reaches out holding you close as it continues. The accelerated speeds are riveting but Feyd-Rautha’s militant stance remains solid as he holds you. When it ends he gives you a moment before stepping out. You can see it all from up here. The white sun is rising. Heading to the edge of the lookout you have a seat looking at the darkness of the planet and all the little lights. Feyd takes a seat beside you. He’d never found himself more enamoured with a single human or object. There was something visceral about how connected he felt to you. There was never any confusion in himself as to how you may feel, there’s a sense of knowing within him. He watches you look down into the most populated parts of Giedi. Where he could connect to your feelings he often found your thoughts to be a mystery to him. He wondered how anyone could take such comfort in stillness. Only time he enjoyed being still as before he was about to strike, nothing about you suggested anything of the sort. Violence seemed all together out of your nature.

He would have to learn to be gentle, to take pleasure in the softness of your skin, the slow throes of pleasure, your facial expressions when he dug deeper inside. The taste of your arousal on his fingers after you came for him and only him. He would need to break you in slowly, he would have you forever after all. Patience and diligence would be required for the task of getting you to open up for him, for you to understand his intentions for you were as pure as the steel in his sacred blades. He would do anything for you.

He would do it all.

“Were you promised to someone else?” He asks as soon as the thought crosses his mind. The thought that filled him with unbridled rage. He would have whomever that man was and place him in the arena. He would prove himself to her.

“No”

“No?” Feyd pry’s.

“There were a few attempts to have me matched. The men were decent enough but I never saw myself married” you confess.

“Who were the men?” Feyd-Rautha asks.

“The look in your eyes says it’s against my better judgement to disclose the names of innocent men” you smile looking back out to the white sun as he looks at you.

“Have you kept lovers?” Feyd asks, his temper bubbling.

“No, no lovers” You smile looking at him. “What of your pleasure slaves and pets?” You ask. His eyes grow and then he swallows, he’s railed with insecurity.

“What of them?” He asks and you shrug.

“Is there a selection process?” You ask and he stands shaking his head.

“Satisfaction, if they’re unable to do that then they’re useless to me” Feyd speaks plainly.

“Will that also be my fate?” You whisper and his eyes close in regret.

“No, I can only think of three rules I have for you to follow,” Feyd says.

“Am I permitted rules too?” You ask and he smiles chuckling a little.

“Perhaps I could be persuaded into following a few” he responds, his honesty is refreshing. “No other men, no other man gets to even touch you. Nothing beyond a handshake, if his eyes linger too long I’ll cut them out, if his hands touch pieces of you they shouldn’t he will lose them at the end of my blade. You try everything once and you never lie to me.” He says.

“What if I were to fall and a man helped me up? Would you take his life for holding me at the waist?” You ask. Feyd blinks like he doesn’t see the issue.

“Touching the na-Baroness will be his last great deed before death” he says with no qualms. It amuses and unsettles you in equal parts. You let out an awkward laugh.

“That is absurd” you remark.

“Not here, here the men would look at you and their thoughts alone would justify my actions” he says speaking from advise he cannot be in her presence for long without fantasising about how she felt inside.

“So these rules are typical of marriages here?” You ask, curious.

“No” Feyd- Rautha says.

“I cannot promise to try everything once or never lie, there will be times I will refuse things and there will be instances I am not forthcoming. To agree to that would be disingenuous and I can see you’re not holding back” you find your bravery and your voice.

“Your rules?” He asks but you can’t think of any.

“I have no rules, I’ve never given marriage any serious thought.” you admit.

“Hmm” he says displeased.

“Would you have preferred I lied?” You ask, it takes Feyd a moment to decide. He shakes his head.

“If you had your choice would you marry me?” He asks, trying to trap you in your commitment to the truth, watching as the white sun strips all pigment from you.

“My father thought you were right for me, he didn’t know the man you’d become but he trusted in you. I don’t have many memories but I know my father loved me very much. That’s why I haven’t run.” You confess honestly.

It’s a blow to his ego, Feyd-Rautha was revered. He was the heir to the wealthiest house in the empire outside of the emperor himself. He was a fierce warrior, respected and feared. His people chanted his name in all of his fights and women doted after him. Still after all the trouble he’d gone through to find you it was your late father, a dead man's wishes that meant more to you than him. He needed you to understand that he was it for you, that he was all.

“You could never out run me” he says with a venom laced tone. Looking away from the coliseum you meet his black eyes, the lower half of his face already devoid of colour from the sunlight. You look at him over recognizing the anger that’s creeped into him over your words. His jaw hardens and he turns heading back to the cylinder. Feyd steps out of your reach waiting before pressing the button to descend. The speed makes your hair rise above your head. He leads you back to your quarters without holding your hand. His blood lust is too high for physical interaction of any kind. His heart knew what you needed. You needed him of sound mind, capable of being gentle, capable of loving you, capable of withholding his urges and managing his anger. Capable of withholding punishments for unexplained infractions. His need for you is so strong it’s maddening. It’s taking everything in him not to toss you onto the bed, tie you up to keep you in place and claim you. He would empty himself inside of you, he would leave it in. He would be there day by day as your stomach grew. He would stand beside you with pride, leaving no question who you belonged to. He’d keep you smiling so everyone knew how content you were with him. He wanted you to look at his child with the same amount of adoration that your mother had for you. He wanted there to be nothing between you, he wanted to take you in the shower. He wanted to take you in the bed, in his chambers, in the great hall, everywhere. He needed to see the need in your eyes every time he looked at you. He needs you to miss him like he’s missed you all these years. Like he misses you from a room away. He needs your love and concern to match his in every way. He needs you to be just as besotted, just as unhinged.

Viewing the spread of food on the table you turn to him before sitting and he hisses a curse turning and storming out of the room without an explanation or another word. You stand there for minutes before realising he doesn’t intend to return.

———

Feyd-Rautha has been with his concubines all week. It’s very clear he’s a man of few words and not prone to managing arguments or disagreements. Nonetheless seamstresses have come by for the last few days capturing measurements of your body. They’ve been tasked with creating dresses for the wedding and his birthday celebration. His absence has been noted among his men and the whispers have been evident. There has been no reduced treatment among your immediate staff but some of the others have taken liberties the Mentat reminds them the na-Baron would disapprove of. It’s nothing comparable to the treachery of life in the academy among the Bene Gesserits. You sit in the grand library among the scrolls playing chess with Leia. The two of you have been practising your telepathic communication, but neither of you have been successfully able to manage the voice. You beat her in your final game of chess and look to see it's almost time for dinner. In spite of your abduction Giedi Prime proves to be far more free than you could have anticipated. Feyd-Rautha could have made you one of his pleasure slaves. Titled you wife but made you nothing more than the bearer of his children and a slave to his desire. Leia thought lowly of his abandonment of you following your last discussion but you have no frame of reference on how to feel. He hadn’t been rude. He hadn’t been mean - just distant. The hospitality of his halls hadn’t ever lessened, you were awarded every privilege. It could be far worse, you're aware of that and somehow that fact is settling.

Sane isn’t Feyd. Even in his absence you sensed him all around you, there’d be some periods of the day where you felt sure he was somewhere close, his presence surrounding and assessing your every move. Like he knew what you were up to. Perhaps it was your guards acting as secondary eyes, perhaps it was the Mentat but you got the feeling your freedom was being monitored. Charting through unknown territory you walk with Leia through an unfamiliar section of the palace. Holding your heads back you look up and the journey to the ceiling seems never-ending. Sun puddles coat the floor in an interesting pattern. Giedi Prime has many architectural feats misaligned with its brutalist architecture.

“Look at the windows” Leia smiles, taking your hand and the two of you look down into a courtyard. Looking down you watch soldiers and guards training, their fighting styles are rugged and brutish. You find yourself looking for Feyd among them but he is absent. You touch Leia to show her the makeshift trees when you're grabbed forcefully. It happens so fast you blink and the two of you have been separated. A fistful of your hair is grabbed and you rein back nailing the culprit in the nose. He groans and you kick backwards hoping to shatter his knee. Alarm fills you as you see Leia in the arms of a large guard. She manages to get him off and the two of you take off down the hall. You hear chatter from ear pieces but on the long stretch of hallway there’s nowhere to hide. Panic fills you as you try to make sense of what’s happening.

“The bitch is dead, '' one snarls and more come down the hall forcing you and Leia to take a sharp turn down into an unfamiliar dark corridor. More and more men join the procession giving chase and your fear peaks. Your voice is shot as you run faster pulling ahead of Leia. Slowing, you urge her to move faster down the hall. You're grabbed in an instant and hit in the face. Your head spins and you see triple. Instinct kicks in as you hear Leia cry out. Picking one of the spinning figures you hold onto flesh digging into eyes that grab your waist. The man screams out.

“A week after na-Baron discards them they’re ours” you hear as another soldier tries climbing on top of you. Squeezing you push his eyes in as hard as you can and he wails. Scrambling up you taste blood managing to grab a gun you have no idea how to use. The cowards stop just as your guards emerge with your Mentat among them you turn to see Leia lose consciousness. You scream going to her, large handprints are along her neck, she stops breathing and a guard gets on his knees to save her life.

“What have you done?” The Mentat asks the soldiers. Hysterics overtake your senses, you lose track of time and you're given a mild sedative to calm you.

Trembling in your room you wait for news regarding Leia’s stability. You have not been able to eat. You’ve been pacing for an hour contemplating the meaning of those brutes words. Was that a hunt orchestrated by Feyd himself? A twisted fantasy? Had he knowingly you were going to be brutally attacked? The doors open and you see your Mentat.

“She is stable, she has been given the best care” he says finally allowing you to breathe a little easier.

“What about Feyd-Rautha?” You ask just as the doors open revealing him in full combat gear. His eyes bulge and his chest rises. He’s furious, you can feel the heat radiating from him a few feet away. Removing his gloves he strides over to you, he’s angry but it can’t be mistaken for being directed at you. He looks away once he’s close.

“What happened!?” He shouts so loud it shakes the chambers. Turning he goes to the Mentat looking murderous. “What happened?” He snaps again pulling out one of his blades.

“They were attacked, they left the library without an escort. The men saw Leia touch the na-Baroness to be and tried to … enforce your rules and then …”

“Have their way with me” you finish the Mentat’s sentence. Feyd takes a step back, his head bowing as his hands tremble. His thumbs run over the tops of the blade as his frustration reaches its peak. Turning to you Feyd closes the space in two large strides. His eyes narrow and he looks at the slight cut on your lip. Lips he’d yet to kiss. Taking your hands he sees swollen knuckles, his hands hover over your waist on your left side before he touches and you wince from the soreness. He withdraws bowing to the hem of your robes, he pulls it up once the Mentat turns his back assessing the purple bruise. Swallowing hard, the veins all over him become prominent. His jaw clicks. He’s too furious to speak, he’s a livewire. Sighing he takes a step away from you and then to you again. Shouting in a fit of rage he throws decorative pieces across the room. It’s a stunning expression of anger and rage.

“Have her dressed” Feyd says and the healers are returned. He watches diligently as they gently apply flowing garments in respect of your injuries. He places a headpiece onto your head by himself walking you out using featherlight touches. A vehicle is waiting and you zip through the halls stopping outside a grand door. You hold Feyd’s hand tighter only to be unnerved at the fear in the brutal men’s eyes. There are nearly fifty of them and yet they tremble at the sight of Feyd-Rautha, a singular being.

“Which of these scum hurt you?” Feyd whispers against your ear. Looking up you scan the faces. It takes you a few moments to locate the one with a red swollen nose and the other who’d been on top of you. You point to them and they’re brought down by one of Feyd’s men. “Which hurt your friend?” He asks and you point to the two culprits, they two are brought down.

“Have them stripped and prepared for death by a thousand cuts” he snaps. “Have a cleaver brought in along with medics. We will have a few more eunuchs.” He says to men who nod. Feyd brings another featherlight touch to your waist guiding you out of the room. You sob, trembling, succumbing to the shock and he lifts you into his arms. The drive to your quarters is short and he carries you back into your quarters sitting on the couch with you cradled in his arms.

“I’m sorry” he whispers, holding you close. “This will never happen again, never. You and your friend fought well and you will never have to fight again” he says softly. The sound of your sobs is heartbreaking. Feyd-Ratha sits torn between his love for you and his eminent need for revenge.

“They said they could because you hadn’t come by in a week. They charged because Leia touched me” you manage through teary sobs remembering the night the mobs came, the screams of women being brutalised and the panic all around to get you in an escape pod. Your breathing quickens and your doors open. The head healer pauses bowing at the sight of the na-Baron.

“She’s stable, she’s awake and concerned for the well-being of the na-Baroness” the healer says and you stand. You will yourself to stop crying as Feyd removes your veil. His eyes search yours with apology. He raises a hand wiping away your tears and smoothing your hair. The bruise on your cheek is a haunting reminder of his failure. He takes your hand heading to the medical rooms. He ushers you in without a word standing back and you look at Leia, laid on the bed. Who would be so bold? You ask yourself as you get to her. It happens in a flash, your eyes roll and you get a flash of Rabban ‘The Beast Harkonnen’. He’s speaking to the man that tried getting on top of you, he’s giving the man instructions. You sense tremendous jealousy, you read his lips ‘I will be the heir’ he declares and then you come to. Leia’s awake, smiling up at you.

“It wasn’t Feyd, he cares for you” she says with telepathy. You respond with a knowing nod. “He told them that they’d die a most painful death if I didn’t survive” she adds.

“It was Rabbane” you respond without words, turning you look back into to see Feyd with a guard checking the sharpness of his blades laid across leather. His eyes find yours and you look to him, he nods with a knowingness, without humour but pure dedication.

“One moment” you say to Leia standing to go to him. You feel drawn to him, connected to him in your anger for what's transpired. It's like you're transfixed as you make your way to him. He looks you over with concern.

“You may leave me here, I do believe I am safe now” you whisper.

“Not until you’re safe in your chambers” Feyd responds unnerved by your state.

“Go now and don’t hold back” you say before pecking his full lips. He’s startled by the gesture but he’d saved you. He’d protected you through a mutiny designed to break you, there was no denying this was likely a plot by the sisterhood, a deal made with Rabban to usurp Feyd-Rautha’s Barony. The betrayal was too cunning and heartless to ignore or let slide. You had not sought Feyd out, they had to know that and still they would subject you to abuse and defiling at the hands of garish brutes. Feyd’s thumb brushes over your burst lip, his fingers pulling your chin in for another chaste kiss. Nodding he steps back for the first time regretful for the reason behind the need to use his blade.

Still even a thousand cuts wouldn’t be enough punishment.

He casts you a final look and you sleep peacefully knowing there’s a chorus from the torture Feyd is administering to the men who’d happily walked towards the opportunity to cause you pain and disgrace. A thousand cuts could be administered many ways, at sunrise you would begin sharpening your blades.

PART III - Charms

_________

TAGS: @elf-punk @dvmb4ssbiatch @thegabbyh @fanfiction-addict22 @meetmeatyourworst @jojoclown69 @lillypink @my-soulmate-is-mycroft @avidreader73 @emeraldsgirl33 @strawberryfieldsforevermore @rose-are-royal

Authors Note:

Thanks for reading, this is a super long one - twice the usual length. I really hope you enjoy it. Comment, reblog and like to support 🩶 Let me know what your favourite part of this story is thus far.

#austin butler #austin butler imagine #austin butler x black reader #austin butler x reader #austin butler x you #black authors #dune part 2 #dune part two #feyd rautha #feyd rautha harkonnen #feyd x reader #feyd rautha imagine #feyd rautha x reader #feyd smut #feyd x you #feyd oneshot #dune 2 #harkonnen

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0bticeo · 6 months

Text

lurk | feyd rautha

part two of five. (part one.) (part three.) (part four.)

summary:

the edge of the blade is sharp. a pinprick of pain blossoms above your carotid. but…

“it’s not sharp enough.”

he blinks. slowly, his lips curl in a smile. your gaze flits to them. to the plush lower lip, to the arch of his cupid’s bow. to their predatory edge. you’ll cut yourself if you get too close. maybe you need to take a step forward.

“what will you have me do?”

“pardon?”

“to sharpen it. should i fetch the incapable wretch who forged them?” his grin sharpens. you feel his blade cut through skin. “or should i use you?”

wc. 3k

tw. blood, death, manipulation, knife kink, blood kind (both heavily hinted at), possessive feyd, political machinations, little canon divergent because the atreides actually attend feyd's bday fight (canon dune part 1 one starts a little after that), please read part one first it will all make sense i promise. shoutout to @kpopnstarwars my most beloved you're going to enjoy this. same goes for you @jaiuneamesolitaiire . also please ask questions about reader/the plot i beg of u i need to get this out of my system

you’re falling.

you see white sands engulf you in their sickly warmth, greedy little grains sinking you in.

you’re falling, and there’s a distant roar ringing in your ears. you’re falling, lifeblood escaping you.

you’ve fallen.

black.

you peel your eyelids open. they feel like sandpaper against your eyes, coarse and rough in all ways wrong.

you dream. again.

the past shifts and twists in front of you, ever changing, desert sand falling through your fingers. the more you cling to it, the less you grasp it.

you let yourself fall in the abyss of memory.

you blink.

you stand by your father’s side, gait proud and regal in a dark dress - a convoluted affair of veils and silver. on your breast, the crest of your family - crimson falcon spreading, spreading. you think of blood blooming on your chest and shift, ever so slightly. the cool press of your blade against your forearm soothes you.

you are in troubled waters, after all.

geidi prime, home to your house’s sworn enemy, the harkonnen. geidi prime, its black sun sucking life out of its inhabitants, monochrome nightmare.

the flight from caladan was costly enough - you can almost hear hawat’s teeth grinding in discontent. a fortune, wasted on harkonen festivities held in honor of the na-baron’s birthday. yet, you must attend. you, betrothed-to-be to a harkonnen.

you’ve heard whispers. hushed conversations between your mother and father, an assessing gaze from the reverend mother herself. it won’t be the baron himself - too old, too sick to produce the desired offspring.

just any other member of that wretched house won’t do either - you are a duke’s daughter, your bloodline mingling with that of the emperor himself.

in the end, it all comes down to the baron’s nephews.

rabban - brutal. all furious brawns, minimal intellectual capacity, proficient for slaughter if used well.

na-baron feyd-rautha. utterly psychotic. deadly. precise. cunning. watching.

from his position at the baron’s right flank, he assesses you. you, back impossibly straight, hands folded before you, feet spread wide enough to spring to action should the situation go awry.

you, bowing before them, liquid smooth, a hair short of being disgracious.

you’ve only bowed low enough to respect the intricate harkonnen protocol, not to show deference. not to them.

the baron raises his head from his seat, barely.

“welcome to geidi prime, duke.”

you suppress a twitch. how utterly informal.

“thank you, baron.”

a shift in the baron’s entourage.

outrage, barely concealed. rabban looks ready to slit your father’s throat. how dare the atreides scum fail to recognize the honor paid to him and his suite?

they’re being left alive, have the privilege of witnessing their beloved na-baron’s coming of age, and still fail to show the due respect?

you let out a slow, drawn out breath. the ceremony will be held in two days. more than enough time for you and your father to be disposed of.

your lips quirk up. you speak.

“it is always an honor to be invited to festivities in which the emperor partakes.”

feyd-rautha’s eyes are on you. under geidi prime’s soulless sun, they’re white, depthless. a milky way of depraved harkonnen savagery. he bares his teeth with unbrided hunger. you know it to be a threat - you’ve heard of his harpies.

you think he’ll consume you whole, with the way his gaze scorches your very soul.

how delightful.

a pulse. the suspensors. slowly, the baron rises from his seat, gargantuan mass towering above you, shadow stretching and stretching until it encompasses all of you.

“the flight to geidi prime must have been quite draining.”

a tenth of your wealth. he who controls the spice controls the universe. the harkonnen have had arrakis in an iron hold for eight decades. your jaw ticks. bastard.

“escort them to the guest wing.”

servants surge forward.

feyd-rautha’s gaze burns, sinks in the exposed skin of your back.

your dream shifts. twists, turns, has you seated at a banquet table.

a feast.

one day left until feyd-rautha’s coming of age.

the guards don’t know how to hold their tongue. they expect a fight - the grandest thing under the sun.

the emperor’s here, sitting at your table. from the corner of the eye, you observe. he’s been put at the head of the table, the baron at his right, your father at his left. an attempt at appeasing eons old enemy. a failure. yet...

there’s an air of satisfaction to the emperor. haden’t you be trained in the bene gesserit way, you would have missed it, the way his eyes glimmer like arrakean spice.

finality sinks in as he takes the first bite, knife slicing open the tender flesh of an unknown poultry.

it looks like a falcon.

you take a bite of your own meat. medium rare, the proper way to consume meat. especially venison. princess irulan watches you, gaze assessing. she, too, has been trained in the way.

you smile at her, finger tracing the rim of your glass, spider-pleasantries networking endlessly. you ask her if she enjoyed your gift - a vocal recorder of the highest quality.

her smile is sincere. in the brutal white lighting of the banquet hall, you find yourself wishing things were different.

“how is your brother?”

you grin. you’re being watched.

“he’s grown. still has his back facing the door.”

she scoffs, amused.

“he’ll learn.”

under the artificial light, your wine looks like freshly spilled blood.

you take a sip and hum. the alcohol burns, sweet little fire settling low in your chest.

“is the wine to your liking, my lady?"

to your credit, you don’t startle. your shoulders tense, your hand freezes in its motion to lower the glass.

na-baron feyd-rautha is at your side, close enough for his breath to tickle your ear.

“it is, my lord na-baron.”

mine. mine. glacier eyes have you riveted in your seat, needle-like against your throat. mine, mine.

his lady. his to claim, his to wed, his to breed.

you watch lithe fingers curl around his knife and wish you could see him in action. watch the deadly precision he’s so praised for.

soon.

twist and shift, until you’re lost in a maze of hallways.

the ceremony is about to start - you can feel the low thrum of thousands of harkonnen roaring their na-baron’s name. shadows pass over you.

it’s cold, this architecture. metal wings stretching, stretching. should you crane your neck, maybe, you’ll watch them disappear in the ceiling. maybe. darkness is a looming cloud - these very walls soak up the light.

you, yourself, are a shadow. puppet dancing to the whims of whoever holds your strings. bene gesserit. baron vladimir harkonnen. the emperor.

you feel a storm coming.

you stop. light. an open door. a lone silhouette, porcelain white etched against black.

feyd-rautha.

he raises his head. sees you. tilts it to the side, lips stretched in a slow grin.

“are you lost, my lady?”

“so it would appear, na-baron.”

a twitch. flicker of annoyance in his eyelid, in the clenching of his jaw, sculpted edge caressed by shadows.

his blade is at your throat before you can make a move.

time holds its breath. it will snap and bleed raw at your feet, thick rivulets of it.

you will bleed, too.

your lips part, a muted gasp. the edge is sharp. a pinprick of pain blossoms above your carotid. but…

“it’s not sharp enough.”

“what will you have me do?”

“pardon?”

“to sharpen it. should i fetch the incapable wretch who forged them?” his grin sharpens. you feel his blade cut through skin. “or should i use you?”

your heart skips a beat. a droplet of blood trails down your neck, down to your collarbone, down to your breasts. his gaze follows. hungry.

“you’d make quite a mess, na-baron.”

he steps closer. circles you, free hand grazing your hip bone, left bare by your dress. you feel the heat of him. suddenly, you’re acutely aware of his bare chest pressed against you. you suppress a shiver.

“address me properly, my lady.”

he shifts his blade. it presses against your jaw.

“very well, my lord na-baron.”

a pleased hum, like a purr. you tilt your head to the side.

“what will you do, feyd-rautha?”

he turns by a fraction. his lips graze your cheek, a breath away from your mouth. your throat feels dry. they graze there, too, over your carotid, trailing up and up until he’s pressing his cheek to yours, guiding you, helping you see-

carnage.

servants, dressed in white, lying limp on the ground, throat slit with deadly perfection. blood pools on the ground. stretches. oozes from gaping wounds, until it reaches the hem of your dress.

concubines, three of them - sisters of fate, harpies with broken limbs, lifeless eyes staring at the ceiling. they’re smiling, teeth like fangs in the dim lighting of the room.

“help me,” he mutters, voice like a plea. “i will guide you.”

“and if i refuse?"

a low chuckle. deep, raspy. you melt a little inside.

“you’re brave, my little atreides.”

“you wouldn’t be the first to try to kill me and fail, miserably.”

his arm wraps around your middle, pressing you to him. oh, mother, why did you have to wear a backless dress? you feel each ridge of him, the perfection of a trained warrior, muscles taut from countless hours of training - he’d make sculptors weep with the lethal perfection of him.

“ah, the fabled tale. show me, little atreides.”

“say please.”

his fingers dig in your hip, thumb tracing small circles under the silver threads holding the fabric together.

“please.”

slowly, you raise your arm. the fabric of your dress, a convoluted affair of veils and velvet, slides down your skin. inch by inch, until the treacherous, ragged scar stretches along your forearm. he tenses, feyd-rautha.

“who did this to you?”

“a fool who underestimated me.”

an assassin.

sent to kill you and your brother as you were running around on the beaches of caladan. who took you first, had you pressed against him, blade at your throat - until you sweetly asked him to

unhand you.

he did. your mastery of the voice wasn’t perfect. you faltered. he struck. you bled.

killed.

words are the weapons of the weak.

that, you aren’t.

“how may i help you, feyd-rautha?”

twist, turn, until you’re facing him, holding a bowl of paint. thick, petrol black, it clings to your fingers like a lifeline. feyd-rautha’s hand covers yours. guiding you, dipping your fingers in the paint, raising your hand to his torso.

you flush a little.

he’s warm. so very warm under your touch. the paint is cool on his skin - you watch him shiver, abdominals contracting, and you trail down, down his pectorals, stopping just short of his navel, lingering over the fabric of his tunic. at his side, his fingers twitch, eager.

“more.”

“where?”

his hand reaches for yours. presses it on his chest. you can feel his heart, steady, strong - fluttering, hummingbird flailing in a cage made of ribs.

you want him, you realize. you want to consume him whole, sink your teeth in him until you can finally taste.

“where?”

you have to crane your neck to get a look at his face. something like amusement glimmers in his eyes.

he brings your fingers to his lips.

you blink.

spread the paint, thumb pressing down the plush of his lips. his lips part, suck you in and bite.

feyd-rautha watches you, tongue darting out to gather the sweet blood trailing down your hand. he presses a kiss to your palm, lips lingering against the callouses of your skin.

you let out something like a whine. the bowl falls. you never hear it reach the ground.

“you’re making quite a mess.”

bastard.

“you’ll make a bigger one if you’re late, my na-baron.”

twist and turn, again, and again, and again. dreams have meanings, and you won’t let this one escape your grasp.

you’re standing above the ground, in the gaping mouth of a harkonnen arena. on and on it stretches, cold metal sparring against the sky, gnawing at its decimated horizon. ink blots the sky. you think of blood pooling in the water. fireworks.

you step inside the lodge. the guards recognise you - duncan idaho flashes a smile, a sharp quirk of his lips. you nod. they part ways. let you join your father, sit by his side and watch.

the fight hasn’t begun yet.

“you look thoughtful, daughter.”

you look away from the immaculate sand and the thousands of harkonnen roaring their na-baron’s name. feyd-rautha.

your father is watching you, gaze austere. you will not conceal, not from him.

“an alliance with the harkonnen would be beneficial, father.”

silence. you watch the subtle twitch of his eyelid, the flexing of his hand. the guards do not hear. you’ve willed it so on your way in. to them, this is only pleasant chatter between father and daughter. harkonnen slander.

“you will not speak of such matters again.”

“the emperor-”

“enough!”

you keep your mouth shut. your father is a stubborn man, blinded by hatred passed down from generation to generation of atreides. as you should be.

horns blow. doors part, slide up. in comes feyd-rautha harkonnen, prowling on the wretched grounds of his playing ground. your binoculars zoom in on him. on the ease with which he carries himself, on the perfect arch of his neck as he kneels before the baron.

on harkonnen prisoners making their way towards him. undrugged.

you straighten in your seat.

the guards murmur. they too, have noticed the prisoners walking straight, carrying themselves with entirely too much ease.

“a bold move. what is the baron planning?”

your father. he’s watching too. all of you are, thousands of gazes riveted on the focal point that is the lone silhouette of feyd-rautha harkonnen.

you rip your gaze away from him and focus on the baron, a few meters above.

his lips part.

show me who you are, my dear nephew.

he’s fast. too fast for them. you relish in it, the fluidity of his movements, the way his hands tenses with each strike of his blades, bare forearms rippling with tension. one body falls. two. it’s barely been a minute since the fight started.

you cross your legs and watch, enthralled.

by god, does he fight well.

a reptile, slithering around his opponent, assessing him with the cruel knowledge of his supremacy. shadows loom over them, horned beasts ready to pry his opponent away from him should he prove to be in danger.

you feel more than you hear his outraged snarl.

“back off!”

that poor soul is his to kill. his gaze flickers upwards. up to the guest lodge, up to you. he bares his teeth in a smile, a flash of black against pure white, and strikes. blood splatters on the ground. a gash opens in the side of the prisoner. he stumbles but doesn’t fall.

no, he’s a fighter that one. lunches forward to pin the na-baron to the ground, wrestling with him, clawing at his arms, hitting every nerve until the baron drops his blades. he’s laughing. he’s getting the life choked out of him and he’s laughing, shifting until his feet find enough leverage to pull him up.

there’s a blade at his throat. the prisoner pushes and pushes, unstoppable force against immovable object. on he laughs, feyd. your eyes drops to his lips, where you see droplets of drool drip down his chin. you bite your lip.

feyd seizes the blade with his bare hand and twists. you hear the prisoner’s wrist break before you hear him choke on his own scream, coughing out blood. the dagger’s deep in his throat. it’s the only thing keeping him together - one fluid motion and feyd rautha wrenches it out of torn flesh and raises it above.

his gaze finds yours.

the dream shifts.

a veil unfolds, parts, until you’re walking the burning sands of arrakis. paul atreides, blood of your blood, flesh of your flesh, stands before you.

his eyes are blue.

you freeze.

a litany rises. lisan al gaib. your mother’s handicraft and eons of propaganda from the missionaria protectiva did its job well. here stands the one, scalding wind screaming around the looming silhouette of him.

bodies. bodies, laying on the ground, thousands and thousands of bodies, hands clutching at scorched earth, parched mouths opened in damnation. hunger. they’re dying in paul’s wake. fate will set the galaxy ablaze. fate will make monsters out of you.

“you know what must be done, sister.”

you do. there’s something a little broken in the way you smile at him, palm cradling his face.

“do you, little mouse?”

he’s tired, paul atreides, usul, muad’ib, lisan al gaib. sanctity doesn’t suit him well. he sees, but his eyes are sunken, his cheeks have hollowed out. there’s an edge to him, too. the bene gesserit were right to fear him.

“don’t lose yourself more than you already have, brother.”

it’s too late.

a jolt.

your eyes wrench open.

“welcome back, atreides.”

the baron.

#feyd rautha x reader #feyd rautha x y/n #feyd rautha x you #dune x reader #dune x you #dune x y/n #obticeo writes #bald freak supremacy

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poppurini · 7 months

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꒰ written by m ┊ HE’S OLD AND A LOSER! ෆ lilia fem!younger!reader, modern au, age gap, you loove teasing poor old lilia for being his age, up to u how old u want him to be but ME PERSONALLY ???? in his 40s <3

꒰ notes from m ┊ awkward / loser / tall / big lilia BECAUSE I CAN, lowercase intended, “it’s ooc” “the timeline doesn’t match” IDGAFFF you’ve been warned 💥💥 absolutely GROSS writing bcos this is stoopid ramble … don’t expect anything

lilia who fumbles with his new phone and frowns at how complicated it is to navigate through everything. what’s wrong with plain old buttons with clear directions on them? they’re easier to press and doesn’t disappear from the phone itself! he’s sitting by himself, so, so focused on figuring out the phone before you laughed softly at how cute he looked. him? a former general? cute? he shrugs, not minding the compliment one bit since it was from his darling love.

you’d settle yourself onto his lap comfortably and take his phone into your hands, showing him how easy it is to navigate through them and that he was just old!

“see? easy! and you could do so much more with it too!”

“i can do many things with it, yes. but i don’t really need it. and also back in my day, phones were just to—”

a soft chuckle escaped the older man when you cut him off with a whine and a wave of your hand, snuggling into him and setting up his phone for him. he doesn’t really get what you’re tapping so much for, but his eyes brightened when he saw a nice picture of the two of you being displayed on the screen. now, he was intrigued.

“if you change this to anything else i’ll hate you.”

you were talking about his lock screen and he was perfectly fine with the picture you chose; it was endearing.

“but what if I want to change it to a different picture of my pretty girl?”

his arms snaked around your waist and pulled you close against him. his voice playful and the corner of his lips tugged up into a small smile.

lilia who can’t seem to keep up with your energetic self as you dragged him around malls or amusement parks. he shakes his head and tells you he can’t go on rollercoaster rides because they’re far too extreme for his poor heart! but that man eventually caves and allows you to excitedly pull him in line. you know he workouts and eats healthy; he’ll be fine! he had a great build for someone his age.

he’d definitely be the kind of bf who gently nags you about how you shouldn’t have so much sweet stuff in a day. you’re on your second cotton candy and he’s NOT gonna let you have any more!! but feel free to sneak away and secretly purchase one (with his card) yourself when he’s busy talking about the cons of consuming cotton candy or sugary drinks

if you get upset at him please don’t be :( he’s really just looking out for your health and he knows you’re supposed to have fun in an amusement park but you’ll come back tomorrow right ?? so just save it for then! how about a nice dinner for now? with actual nutritious foods

lilia who gets all flustered when you shamelessly swoon at his attractiveness. from the visible veins that run up his hands to the sheer size difference between the two of you, you love every single thing about him! you’re not even shy at expressing how needy you are for him, clinging onto him every second of the day and intertwining your fingers so sweetly before playing with his large hands.

yes, yes … he knows he’s attractive and has had his fair share of lovers before but he hasn’t met an individual as enthusiastic as yourself. no seriously, was it his age that makes him feel like he’s unable to keep up with you? because he’s had girls swoon over him before when he was in his prime and he’d always always always!! know what to say just to get them even more head over heels for him but maybe his age is catching up to him…and youngsters like yourself with such enthusiasm and energy just makes him dizzy (affectionately)

ORRRRRRRRR

ok hear me out … MAYBEEEE loser lilia doesn’t think he’s THAT attractive even when he was in his prime. he wasn’t that good at talking to girls and all the girls loved confident, smug men, don’t they? but he wasn’t sooo desperate for a lover either so he was kinda just chilling and doing his own thing … until he got himself a bubbly girl like yourself who isn’t shy to admit just how in love you are with him

you’d notice all shades of red bursting across his cheeks. his hand coming up in an attempt to hide how flustered he looked but him moving his hand MADE HIS VEINS EVEN MORE VISIBLE !! so you’re obvi going crazy over it while snuggling into him all giggles and shit … making him even more flustered ugh he’s faking coughs clearing his throat and looking away

#dumps.#vanrouge.#lilia vanrouge x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #lilia vanrouge #twisted wonderland #fem reader

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wickedsmille · 4 days

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de-aged!Jason and it's tim's problem

Warnings for Jason being a wee little bean (sort of), Tim's super stellar skills with teenagers and the lack of any kind of editing. I wrote this and abandoned it so long ago but discovered it and was like aw, ok, s'kinda cute. :v

It's a tame gen fic with platonic cuddles and vague mentions to Jason and Tim's not so fantastic childhoods.

So. *vague hand wave*

“No. No way.” Tim is freaking out.

He has ample reason to freak out because -

“Who the fuck are you?” Jason demands.

Except, it isn’t Jason because Jason is over six inches taller with over a hundred pounds of extra muscle. Jason is nearly Bruce’s size, not some long limbed, gangly teenager just starting to grow into his shoulders. Granted, the surly scowl and inner fire is all Jason, as is the narrow eyed suspicion. So is the far too large leather jacket and armor hanging off him and the domino barely holding on. It’s a small blessing he’d forwent his helmet for patrol.

“Your worst nightmare,” Tim replies automatically.

Realizing the inappropriateness of what he’s said, regardless of his always wanting to say it, makes him grimace because, yeah, for a while he kind of was Jason’s worst nightmare. They’ve slipped into something approaching civil co-workers since Jason decided to invade Titans Tower to test him via a vicious beatdown but they are nowhere near take care of each other after a magical mishap territory.

At Tim’s words, Jason drops down lower into a fighting stance and squares up with Tim, unafraid and ready to brawl even if Tim is obviously trained because only the rare few decided to go out at night in a costume and mask without the skills to back it up. And Tim is bigger than Jason. By maybe an inch but he’ll take it. It’s still a victory considering adult, not magically de-aged Jason is a behemoth.

Waving his hands frantically, Tim amends his previous statement. “That came out wrong.”

“How does ‘Your worst nightmare’ come out wrong?” Jason spits.

“Okay, tell me you’ve never wanted to quote a movie in the middle of a fight,” Tim shoots back.

Jason seems to chew on Tim’s words before he loosens up and stands though the tension refuses to leave and the wariness remains. “If you make one wrong move I’ll smack the shit out of you.”

“Been there, done that,” Tim says as his mouth gets away from him again.

“Wait, what?”

Later, when he’s alone, Tim is going to bang his head against a wall and smother himself with his own pillow. He can’t wait so long as it makes him forget the misery that is this moment in which he can’t keep his mouth shut and he has a teenage Jason Todd staring him down like he’s crazy. Which, fair. None of the Bats are sane, per say.

“What do you remember?” Tim asks tiredly.

Jason chews over his words, coiled tight and still ready to strike. His gaze roves over Tim before he finally says, “I am. Was? Robin, I think. But I was just living on the street. So, I don’t,” Jason trails off, unsure.

“So you remember some stuff from being Robin and some from before that but not everything?” Tim guesses.

Nodding hesitantly, Tim fights the urge to slap a hand to his head. Why not make things more complicated by not only taking years off Jason’s life but also jumbling the memories he does have? Tim doesn’t mind. This is perfectly fine. Without going over each detail, there’s no way to accurately tell how much Jason does or does not remember. It’s clear he remembers being Robin but not moving in with Bruce. The two things are so closely linked, it doesn’t bode well for what other holes are in Jason’s mind. But it’s fine.

Tim decides not to say anything else and runs his hands through his hair. It’s a good thing Bruce isn’t in town, JL business as usual these days unless one of the big name Gotham Rogues starts causing trouble, or he’d be all over tiny Jason. There is one other plausible candidate to stick on Jason Duty. A candidate already in Gotham and primed for endless cuddles and forced bonding sessions since his newest victim is spending a few weeks respite at the Kent Farm. Dick is going to be ecstatic.

Reaching up, Tim turns his com back on and pretends like Jason doesn’t flinch. “Nightwing?”

“RR,” Dick greets cheerily. “What can I do you for?”

“I’ve got a situation.”

The shift between Dick the Brother and Nightwing the Protector is stark as he asks, “Are you in trouble?”

Hesitantly, Tim hedges, “Well, not me, but. You’ll want to see this. Meet us back at the Cave in twenty.”

“Us?”

Tim clicks off the com and mutes it. Sure, it’ll drive Dick up a wall to not know what’s going on but Tim doesn’t feel like getting badgered into telling the whole sordid tale of Red Robin and Red Hood getting bested by a two bit magician with a splintered down piece of wood and a pointed hat. Embarrassing would not even begin to cover it so he doesn’t fancy having anyone else drop into the conversation, Barbara.

The lesser of the two evils is obviously to let Dick stew in the knowledge that Tim is safe and whole but hiding a secret. There is no other possible resource. None that would save Tim’s already wounded and dying pride.

“I’m not going anywhere with you,” Jason tells him harshly.

Tim fixes him with a flat look. “I’m not dealing with this, your brother can so you can either come with willingly or I’m tossing you over my shoulder and you’re still coming with.” How crazy is it to think he could easily carry Jason.

Jason tries to stare him down but Tim cocks a hip, crosses his arms and waits patiently. Eventually, Jason relaxes by inches.

“Something happened to me, didn’t it?”

Tim can’t help but roll his eyes no matter how unfair it is to Jason since he can’t remember. “No,” Tim replies sarcastically, again knowing he’s being unfair but the universe started it by getting him into this mess.

“You don’t need to be a bag of dicks.”

“You don’t need to use such language, young man.”

Jason looks like he sucked on something sour as he crosses his arms and hunches his shoulder inward. There’s a faint dusting of pink over his cheeks. It makes Tim feel a little bad. As far as he can tell, Jason is fifteen again, which sends a pang of hurt through Tim’s chest with the implications, which means he has all the false bluster and bravado that comes with being a teenager with the added bonus of being hypersensitive to embarrassment and criticism. He should stop being such an ass.

Heaving a sigh, Tim waves Jason over as he turns his back and starts making his way down the alley to where his bike is parked. Hesitantly, Jason follows but his steps quicken as they draw near and he gets a look at Tim’s bike. The resistance is gone and replaced with awe as he circles the machine despite Tim swinging his leg over and mounting it. Patiently, like a saint, he allows Jason his moment of wonder. It is a beautiful work of ingenuity and power.

Then the seconds drag out. Looking over his shoulder, Tim raises a brow and shrugs a shoulder towards the back of his bike. “So, I did tell Nightwing twenty minutes.”

“And the longer I keep us here the faster you’ll have to drive,” Jason replies without missing a beat, bent over and inspecting the anti-locking mechanism on the back brakes.

Tim grins, small and dangerous. “Alright. I’ll give you a couple more minutes.”

He gives Jason more than a few minutes because he knows the streets are empty and he can safely push his bike faster than he would without an excuse like chasing bad guys or coming to someone’s rescue. It took some coaxing to get Jason on and even longer to get him to wrap his arms securely around Tim but, once they had set off and Tim ran his third red light, both of them settled in for the too fast ride. Midway, Tim decides to show off and skid through a particularly sharp turn. It’s a flawless maneuver and Jason shows his appreciation by whooping loudly.

Tim does it again once they reach the cave. This time, he drifts into a narrow parking spot between the Batmobile and Nightwing’s bike. Jason’s arms tighten around him as they skirt the edges of the Batmobile by millimeters and he doesn’t let go even after they’ve come to a stop and Tim has killed the engine. Eventually, Tim has to pat Jason’s arms to get him off so Tim can breathe properly again. Jason promptly scrambles off at that.

By the time Tim is turning around to face the main part of the Cave, Dick already by their side with a worried furrow to his brow. He blinks once at Jason, looks at Tim, blinks again at Jason then melts.

“Oh my gods,” Dick says softly. He looks delighted and Tim does not envy Jason who’s eyeing him critically.

“When did you get so old?” Jason asks unkindly.

Dick throws a hand over his heart and actually looks slightly offended. “Wow, okay, so I’m not old -”

“Yes, you are.”

“And, wow, I forgot how much of a little shit you were,” Dick finishes fondly.

Jason bristles and looks like he wants to shove his hands in his pockets but the armored cargo pants are hanging too low for him to manage it without looking ridiculous.

To make up for his earlier mistakes, Tim cuts in to take pity on Jason. “Turns out the guy we were chasing was the real deal. I assume you can give Zatanna a call and handle it?”

Together, Dick and Jason both ask, “You’re not sticking around?”

Tim glances between the two of them, bewildered. “Uh, no? I get enough second hand teenage angst from Damian.”

Jason doesn’t look happy about it but Dick does. He nods amicably and smiles widely. “That’s alright, I volunteer myself as tribute.”

Without warning, he moves towards Jason with his arms raised and posed to envelope the teen in a patented Dick Grayson Hug. Swiftly, Jason side steps him and slides behind Tim so he’s blocking any other attempts Dick might make. Some of Dick’s joy falls but he looks undeterred as he lowers his arms and doesn’t move forward again. If Tim weren’t hanging onto some old hurts still and feeling petty, he’d feel a little bad for Dick.

Tim shifts, trying to edge his way over to the computer so he can type up his report and be on his merry way but Jason gets closer and follows him like Tim’s shadow. The entire time, Dick keeps staring. The longer it goes on, the more Jason scowls at him. It is hilarious and, were Tim a casual observer, he would have burst out laughing long ago. As it is, he’s an unwilling participant in Dick and Jason’s detente and caught in the middle as Dick barely restrains himself from draping himself over Jason while Jason looks more and more like he wants to kick Dick in the nuts.

Pointedly, Tim sits down in the computer chair which leaves Jason nowhere to go. He sticks by Tim’s side regardless, eyeing Dick who has followed them like a puppy waiting for a treat. Cuddles with his younger than normal little brother being the treat.

There’s quiet for a few blessed minutes before Jason asks awkwardly, “What’s your name? I didn’t get it before.”

“You never asked before,” Tim says absently as he starts to write up his report. His fingers may go a little faster than usual in an attempt to hurry his escape. “But it’s Red Robin.”

“Like the restaurant?” Tim doesn’t have to look at Jason to know he’s judging. He can hear it.

“Yum,” Tim says flatly.

“And,” Jason starts. Tim can make out Jason shifting awkwardly. “What about your real name?”

Tim cuts a glance Jason’s way and takes in the frown, the hardened edge to his eyes as they look between the Cave and Tim, the uncertainty. He shouldn’t feel guilty. He doesn’t. It’s not like he did anything wrong. But Jason didn’t either. The wannabe mage got lucky and it could’ve easily been Tim drowning in his uniform and overwhelmed by the way everything has changed from what he remembered.

Looking back at the computer and continuing the report, Tim caves and answers, “Tim. My name is Tim. I was the Robin that came after you.”

“So this,” Jason pauses to wiggle in his armor, “was my idea when I passed on Robin?” Tim looks to see Jason giving the guns hanging from hips a dubious look. Right, he probably should have taken away the firearms.

There is so much wrong with what Jason said and has left unsaid. In no universe does Tim want to volunteer himself to answer. No amount of cutting edge tech, unlimited Zesti or epic W&W campaigns could make him handle this conversation.

Tim searches for Dick who’s apparently made himself look busy at one of the closer work benches. His hands have stopped tinkering with the grapple gun he’d been poking moments ago and his back goes rigid. No matter how miffed he is with Dick, he doesn’t have the heart to make him handle answering Jason either. Lying is an option. Lying is a fantastic option but Jason deserves more than that.

Carefully, Tim settles on, “Yes, all that was your idea. You didn’t really pass on Robin but I don’t think we should get into it. I hope you’ll trust me and leave it alone for now.”

The silence stretches on between them, broken up only by Tim’s typing.

“Okay,” Jason eventually answers. “Don’t get me wrong, I trust you about as far as I can throw you.”

“Let’s not test that.”

“What if I want to?” Jason asks cheekily.

“Then we’ll see how far I can toss you,” Tim tells him simply.

“Oh, it is on, Tim.”

“Like Donkey Kong,” Tim agrees. “Later though. I’m trying to finish this and then I need to leave.”

“Didn’t peg you for a cut and run kind of person.”

“More the strategic retreat kind.”

“Sounds like you’re scared,” Jason goads him.

Tim spares him an unimpressed frown. “Don’t think I don’t know what you’re doing.”

Jason smiles, sincere and cocky. “Is it working?”

“Hardly,” Tim drawls as he puts the finishing touches on the report.

He stands to leave once he’s saved and exited out of the file. Immediately, Jason’s hand shoots out and grabs Tim’s wrist. Surprised, Tim looks at him and doesn’t fight the tight grip Jason has on him.

“Don’t leave me with him,” Jason mutters.

Tim looks at Dick who has the audacity to plaster on an innocent smile while leaning casually against the workbench. He can see it now. As soon as he leaves, Dick will be all over Jason. It won’t be the regular, suffocating attention Dick focuses on a sibling when he zeroes in on a member of the family. Oh no, it’ll be a hellish combination of guilt and excessive affection to make up for time lost and amend mistakes years in the past. Tim pinches the bridge of his nose just thinking about it.

“Why don’t I drop you off with Alfred?” Tim counters.

Jason brightens but he doesn’t let go of Tim. “Alfie’s here?”

“Indeed,” Alfred says primly from his spot next to where the Cave connects with the manor. “Master Tim, why don’t you help Master Jason out of suit while Master Dick and I see to finding him something more suitable to wear and finishing dinner?” Alfred says it like a question but it’s far from it.

Dick starts to protest but one look from Alfred has him clamming up. He scurries over to the lockers at Alfred’s prompting to change and shower before coming up where he’ll be waiting. Dawlding is strongly discouraged.

Tim can recognize when his plans to flee have been thoroughly foiled. Looking Heaven-ward to plead the universe for mercy, Tim spins in the chair to face Jason. He looks a little terrified so Tim smiles gently.

“He’s right. It can’t be comfortable wearing that and I’m familiar with the security measures built into the suit. Is it alright if I help?” Tim asks him first. Slowly, Jason nods and Tim watches as he swallows hard. Tell you what, why don’t I take the guns and I’ll walk you through everything else?” Tim offers.

“Oh gods, please,” Jason says quickly. His mouth snaps shut after, the flush on his cheeks moving up to the tips of his ears. “I mean, yeah, sounds good.”

Tim bites his lip to keep from laughing and silently disengages the security on the holsters and slips it off. He instructs Jason on how to do the same with the rest of the armor. He keeps his voice level and void of any condemnation or coddling as he does so. Surprisingly, it’s mostly painless. At least on Tim’s part. Jason looks about ready to bolt which Tim gets it, he does. The whole thing reminds him of school locker rooms and playing catch up on social norms in the worst setting possible.

That mildly traumatizing experience over with, Tim slaps his thighs and stands. “Why don’t we grab something to eat and get you into something less,” Tim stops and waves his hand at Jason but doesn’t continue.

Even the compression shirt and pants underneath the suit are too large on Jason. He frowns down at the clothes and says sourly, “It’s not my fault I grow up to be a behemoth.”

“True,” Tim concedes. Again, they’re skating the edges of an endless rabbit hole he doesn’t want Jason to fall down. While he seems to be handling the situation well, no doubt prepped by Bruce for all manner of insane contingencies as a part of his training, Tim doubts a recounting of Jason’s death would go over as well. “Clothes and dinner then?”

“I’m not a kid so don’t treat me like one,” Jason snaps.

“Stop looking like one and I will,” Tim counters. “I’m going to go change but you know the way up if you don’t want to wait.”

Although Tim isn’t expecting Jason to still be in the cave by the time he’s dressed down in sweatpants and a t-shirt after a sorely needed shower, he hurries through his usual after patrol routine. Just in case. The foresight turns out to be fruitful since Jason is meandering around the Cave, pausing to examine something he doesn’t recognize. When Tim comes out from the locker area, Jason’s head swivels around.

This time Tim has no plausible reason for Jason to blush but blush he does as he looks over Tim. Deciding to ignore it, Tim finishes drying his hair and lets the towel sit around his shoulders. He nods towards the exit up to the manor.

The trip up is uneventful. Alfred appears beside them as they emerge from the Cave and holds out a neatly folded pile of clothes. Jason takes them gratefully and ducks away to the nearest bathroom while Tim makes his way to the kitchen. With so few in the house, it’s rare they sit down in the family dining room and, as he anticipated, Alfred has dinner spread out on the nook tucked away in the corner of the kitchen. The food looks delicious, smells delicious, but Tim’s itching to leave and he knows, if he sits down with everyone, he’ll get wrangled into staying.

From behind, Jason appears once more and Dick follows after, hovering as one does when their little brother has been demoted to extra tiny little brother. Jason, for the most part, takes it with grace by giving Dick only one heated glare over his shoulder. Jason comes to stand before Tim then Dick falls into line too. He descends on the food, plating it up and chattering away. Tim indulges him, hums where he needs to and answers any questions Dick throws his way, but Jason stays quiet.

He doesn’t make a move to grab any food for himself which is not Tim’s problem. Jason has shown he remembers living in the manor, being Robin and Bruce’s son, so there’s no reason he can’t help himself. Tim leaves him to it so he can dig around in the pantry for one of the energy bars he knows he squirreled away in the back when he moved out for exactly this situation. As he’s shutting the pantry door, victorious with a couple bars in his hand, Jason is looking at him. He’s eyeing the food in Tim’s hand then looking at Alfred’s spread like it’ll bite him.

It takes a second for the pieces to click together but Ra’s doesn’t call Tim Detective for no reason.

Sidling up to Jason’s side, he holds out one of the bars which Jason takes hesitantly.

“I get it. I can grab more if you want,” Tim tells him kindly.

Jason looks ready to beat him with the protein bar as he hisses, “What would you know, rich boy? Don’t think I haven’t noticed your Bristol accent.”

“Packaged food is safe, right?” Tim asks him rhetorically, his voice cold. Jason’s comment rubs him the wrong way. “Don’t have to worry about something being in it or being spoiled. Hard habit to shake when you fall back on old conditioning.”

Jason flinches back.

“Hey, you guys coming?” Dick asks through a mouthful of food from where he’s seated at the table.

“Nah, neither of us is very hungry,” Tim lies smoothly. “We’ll probably grab a couple snacks.”

Dick looks upset about the change in course, frowning around another forkful of food. Like magic, Alfred sweeps into the room before Dick can protest.

“Perhaps retire to the sitting room? I can have an assortment of snack items brought in. I dare say a calm night in would do this family good.” There’s a knowing glint in Alfred’s eye.

Remembering Dick’s propensity for cuddles and Jason’s resistance to it, Tim bumps Jason’s shoulder as he says, “What do you think? Or do you want to pick?”

“Library, I’d prefer the library,” Jason says automatically.

Alfred smiles without smiling. “Very good, Master Jason. I’ll bring a few things up to you and Master Tim if you’d like to go get settled now.”

“Actually-” Tim tries to interject. Jason will be fine. From what Tim’s learned, the library is Jason’s safe space, he’ll have food to eat and he’ll have Alfred to help him through. Tim isn’t needed. He’s not even sure why he’s being so nice.

It’s not them. With no idea on how to overcome the bad blood between himself and Jason, Tim hasn’t tried to repair their relationship and Jason hasn’t made any effort to either. Really, Tim should’ve left Jason to Dick and Alfred back in the cave. Putting his foot down would’ve had him gone already, sitting in his nest and ordering pizza while going over his active cases.

But Jason looks so lost. He’s fronting, falling on the familiar anger and confidence he’s always had. He’s regressing back into a mindset more befitting the streets now that he’s so uncomfortable and likely feeling cornered. It’s so unlike the Jason Tim knows. Jason’s always been full of piss and vinegar but this softer version? It makes Tim’s heart hurt a little but in a way he can’t ignore.

Like Jason has read Tim’s mind, his hand wraps around Tim’s wrist again and he pulls him out of the kitchen.

Leading them into the foyer and up the stairs, with his back to Tim, he asks, “How did you know? About the food.”

Taken aback by Jason’s aggressive exit and his new role as a tow-along, the truth slips out. “Uh, my parents. They left me alone a lot and forgot sometimes about the groceries. I got sick a couple times from eating spoiled stuff so I stuck to non-perishables.”

In answer, Jason grunts. “That’s fucked up.”

“My therapist agrees.”

“You have a therapist?”

Tim laughs. “Of course not. What respectable Bat does?”

When Jason laughs with him, it shakes loose something warm in Tim’s chest. He shakes away the feeling as Jason pushes into the library. Once they’re inside, Jason releases him. He doesn’t move right away, instead choosing to stand and survey the room.

Working on another hunch, Tim walks past Jason to a closet tucked away in the corner. Throwing the door open, he gatherers as many of the pillows and blankets inside as he can fit in his arms, kicks the door shut and dumps his haul on the bay window overseeing the back gardens. He arranges it all to make a comfortable looking nest. Once done, he nods in approval and gives himself a pat on the back. He cracks open the window as a finishing touch and presents his handiwork with a flourish.

“Easy exit, sight lines to all access points and extra pillows perfect for relaxing,” Tim says. Jason stays locked looking at him so Tim raises a brow. “Are you going to grab a book or stare at me all day?”

Jason jolts out of whatever trance he’d fallen into and quickly says, “Yeah, yep, I’ll go do the book thing with the reading.”

Tim smiles fondly as Jason trots into the shelves to retrieve a book. Tim can hear Jason as he searches for a book. The sounds are not encouraging. There’s a lot of murmured curses, grunting and frustrated growls. Once more, Tim resigns himself to helping out Jason. It doesn’t feel as much like a chore anymore.

“Issues?” Tim calls.

“They’re all 1st editions!” Jason yells back. “Who does that?”

“Give me a second,” Tim hollers back.

Because Tim had a hard time leaving well enough alone as a kid, he knows Jason’s old room has several well worn copies of Jason’s favorites. Ones that could get thrown in a fire and he’d be out a couple bucks to replace it, cheap copies he can use over and over again till the pages are fraying and the spines have separated. Tim picks the lock on Jason’s old room and grabs a couple of the most worn down paperbacks. A young Tim may have been armed with curiosity and a lack of boundaries but he didn’t go so far as to read Jason’s favorites. Definitely not. That wasn’t a thing.

Back in the library, Jason has settled into the seat of the bay window. He holds out the books to Jason who takes them and inspects each.

“Are you a mind reading meta or something?” Jason asks him suspiciously.

“No, nothing like that,” Tim replies.

“So someone just fucked you up real good like me?”

Grinning ruefully, Tim shrugs. “I like to think I turned out alright.”

“Yeah, you did.” Jason clamps his mouth shut after his off hand comment and his face goes red. Suddenly, he’s a lot more focused on the books in his hands than talking to Tim.

Tim’s not touching that with a ten foot pole but it’s still amusing. He settles on the floor, content to wait for Alfred, snacks and the excuse that it’s getting late so he can slip away guilt-free.

“You’re seriously going to sit down there?” Jason eventually asks to break the companionable silence between them.

Seeing a possible out, Tim responds, “I can go somewhere else if you’d rather be alone?” He doubts it since Jason has imprinted on him or somehow deemed Tim a safe person and latched on but a man can hope.

When he looks up, he meets Jason’s eye. The blush is back in full force. “No, I don’t like being alone,” he admits grudgingly.

The something warm in Tim’s chest is back again, stronger than before. It makes his brain soupy, or it’s the exhaustion and need for sleep. Either way, Tim tells him, “Neither do I.”

“So get up here,” Jason demands. Very pointedly, Tim looks at the bay window and the distinct lack of space to fit an extra person. Aggressively opening one of his books, scowling at the pages, Jason mutters, “Just fucking get up here.”

When Jason hops out of burrow of blankets and points at the window seat, Tim figures he can humor him. What’s the harm, after all? If anything it proves the point that although it is incredibly comfortable with the way Tim layered the blankets there’s no way they could both fit. He spreads his arms wide to encompass the fact that there isn’t enough room for them to share.

The humor drains right out of him as Jason steps up to the window, his expression twists together in a curious mix of angry fear and climbs into Tim’s lap. Tim would like to amend that. Jason awkwardly climbs up into his lap. Actually, it is super awkward.

Tim’s so stunned by the forwardness of the actions that all the words he wants to push past his lips get stuck and die on his tongue.

Like this is any old day and not what’s shaping up to be one of the weirdest days of Tim’s life, Jason scooches over as far as he can till his back is pressed against the window. He’s half turned towards the ceiling but tucked tightly against Tim’s side. It’s not cuddling, not really with Tim’s arm pinned between them and Jason doing his best to squeeze back so they don’t touch even though it’s unavoidable. It is tangentially related to cuddling though.

Jason starts reading. Tim starts staring at him blankly.

“You’re shit at cuddling,” Jason grumbles.

As if Tim’s brain couldn’t break anymore, here comes a teenage Jason to bulldoze over the semblance of a higher thinking he’d been able to scrape together. With his mind officially offline, Tim’s mouth takes the wheel.

“I haven’t had much practice.”

Taking Tim’s arm, he pulls it out from between them and sits up enough he can get it around his shoulders. Once satisfied, he grabs Tim’s other arm and drapes it around his chest as he lies fully on his side. He even nuzzles into Tim’s chest then goes back to reading.

What.

“My mom used to cuddle me like this,” Jason whispers, eyes never leaving the pages of his paperback.

How is Tim supposed to handle that? He is not equipped for this. They have officially bumbled, dived head first, into things better handled by Dick. Or Steph. Or Cass. Not Tim. But is he mad about it? He has to stop and think about that.

Tim tightens his arms and scoots down a little to get into a more comfortable position. He’s no expert on cuddling but it seems like something that can take a while. Until Jason is back to his fire-fed-gasoline attitude, Tim can deal with this, he decides. He’s already caved to every other whim Jason has had, has helped him feel more centered when his entire world has shifted, so he may as well stop fighting it so much and get it over with before Jason gets the chip back on his shoulder. It’s like ripping off a bandaid.

Sleepily, Jason asks him, “You keep watch, yeah?”

Patting his arm, Tim hums, “Yeah, no worries. I’ll be the look out.”

#tim drake #jason todd #batfam #batfamily #dc #batman #wicked writing

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kaeyalovr · 8 months

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Cult leader! Suguru Geto x F!Reader

Wordcount: 2,9k

My first ever fic, so be nice !!! Had a super fun time writing this and I hope y'all enjoy :)

Cw: Non-con/dub-con, smut, creampie, abuse of authority, manipulation, rough sex, degradation, fingering, orgasm denial, religious symbolism, ooc geto, breeding, slight misogyny, religious guilt, verbal humiliation, Geto is not nice lol

You have been summoned to meet with the “esteemed leader”, Suguru Geto to discuss marriage. Every woman in the “family” must do this once they come of age, as creating more members is one of the utmost priorities of the cult.

Your parents walk you to the esteemed leader’s chambers. You’re wearing your finest kimono, the obi tied a little bit too tightly around your waist. Sweat drips from your forehead, you curl your hands into tight balls, and dig your nails into the palms of your hands so hard they start bleeding. Not that you felt it, you’re so nervous it feels like you could drop dead at any moment.

And before you know it you’ve arrived at the doors. Even though it’s at least a ten minute walk from your room to Geto’s chambers, it felt like seconds. You turn to look at your parents who have giant grins on their faces. They say something about how they’re so proud of you and how you’re their best achievement in life. Honestly you didn’t really hear anything but you assume they’d say something like that.

Right when you thought you were going to pass out, the two big wooden doors in front of you opened. You quickly looked away from your parents and turned to face the opening. Then you saw him. The esteemed leader in all his glory sitting on a mat in the middle of the room. Gods he really was beautiful wasn’t he. From his long raven locks to his perfectly chiselled body. No wonder people were utterly devoted to him.

You didn’t even realise how stupid you must’ve looked ogling at him until you felt a hand lightly push you forward. You didn’t even look back to see who it was, you just started walking forward in uneven wobbly steps. Once you reached the mat Geto was sitting on you made a light bow out of respect and sat down opposite to him. It was only then when you realised this was the closest you’d ever been to him. Of course you’d seen him in person before but only as a part of the crowd when he was on stage.

The noisy closing of the wooden doors broke you out of your thoughts and brought you back to reality. Your newest revelation was the fact that you were now completely alone with Geto. Not that that worried you… except maybe a little bit. You weren’t scared of him per say, but he definitely had a very commanding aura.

He’s the first to break the silence by saying. “Now that you are a woman grown and in the prime of your life, I think it’s only logical that you start to think about marriage.”

You send a frown his way, you weren’t very fond of the idea of getting married so soon. You wanted to experience life first after all, maybe travel the world, just like your mother did. Then get married, settle down, and start a family.

“Really there’s nothing to be worried about, I’m sure we’ll find you a suitable match within the family. And I’m positive you’ll make some man very happy.” He smiles.

The air hung heavy with tension. Geto was staring at you, his gaze calculating. You felt your heart beating so fast you thought it might jump out of your chest.

"Geto," You began, your voice barely above a whisper. "I... I'm not sure if I’m ready for marriage. I don’t particularly like anyone in the cult… like that, and I don’t think I’m ready to start a family. I was just wondering if it was really necessary..?”

Geto’s expression changed instantly. His soft smile fell into frown. "Necessary?" he repeated, his tone laced with disdain. "If I need to remind you; when you joined this “family”, you vowed to follow my instructions fully. No matter the cost. So do you really dare to question the necessity of your esteemed leader’s decisions?”

Your heart sank at the icy edge to his voice. "No, Geto, I... I meant no disrespect. Really, I just thought-" You stammered, trying to explain yourself.

But Geto was not one to tolerate disrespect, especially from one of his lowly followers. His lip curled into a sneer as he cut you off sharply. "You speak out of turn, y/n" His voice a low growl. "Do not presume you have the authority to talk back to me."

Your cheeks flushed with embarrassment, your gaze dropping to the floor as you struggled to speak. "I really meant no harm, sir" You whispered, your voice barely audible.

Geto was not one to let you off the hook so easily. His eyes flashed with loathing as he started ranting. "Nothing is ever enough for you, is it?" he spat, his words dripping with disgust. "You always expect the best of the best. I bet you think you’d deserve to marry me, as if you were worthy of such honours.”

Your heart clenched at his words, a pang of guilt piercing your chest. "No, I- that's not what I meant," You protested frantically, but he silenced you with a dismissive wave of his hand, a prominent scowl on his face.

"Enough," Geto snapped, his voice loud and commanding. "So you wouldn't want to marry me, is that it? You think you’re too special to marry even me?"

Your breath caught in your throat at his insinuation, your mind racing as you started hyperventilating a bit, who knew this would be this stressful. "No, sir, I didn't mean..."

But Geto’s piercing gaze bore into you, his words cutting you off before you could even finish your sentence. "You’re so ungrateful, y/n," He declared feigning disappointment, his voice laced with scorn, even though he was internally smiling, everything was going just as he wanted. The same couldn’t be said for you, you were a complete and utter wreck. So worried about what your parents would think of you right now, daring to question the esteemed leader, God how stupid could you be.

"It would be the highest honour for you to bear my seed, to carry my children."

Your cheeks burned with shame at his words, shock painting your face. "Yes, Geto, it would be… an honour," You murmured softly, your words slightly tinged with resignation.

But deep down, beneath the facade of compliance, you couldn't shake the feeling of unease that gnawed at your insides. You knew that you would never truly want such a fate, that the thought of bearing Geto’s, or any man's children filled you with dread.

And yet, as you stood before him, you couldn't help but feel a twinge of guilt at the thought of disappointing your parents, of failing to live up to the expectations they placed upon you. I mean it was one of the main values of the cult, that every woman get married to a good religious man and bear his children.

You sat frozen, your heart pounding with fear. Geto's smirk widened at the sight of your vulnerability, his eyes gleaming with a predatory hunger. "Well, I'm glad you agree," he purred, his voice a low rumble that sent shivers down your spine. "Maybe we should do it then."

Your breath caught in your throat at his words. Was he actually implying what you think he was? "But... I thought you weren't allowed to get married?" You stammered, trying not to assume the worst.

Geto’s laughter echoed throughout his chambers. "No, not the marriage part, sweet lamb," He murmured with a smirk on his face, "The sex part."

A wave of panic washed over you at his brazen statement, your pulse quickening as you realised the gravity of the situation. You had no time to think about the situation at hand any longer though, as he stood up and took a few steps in your direction, closing the distance between you two.

You quickly did the same and got up off the floor to take a few steps backwards. “Don’t make this difficult, y/n” He stated coldly, as if you were being an inconvenience. Everytime Geto took a step forward, you’d take one back. You tried to protest, but no noise came out of your mouth.

Eventually your back hit the wall and you were cornered. Suddenly, a strong hand grabbed your arm and pulled you into an embrace. You opened your mouth to say something, anything, but before you could, a hand clamped over your mouth. You felt his hot breath on your ear and his chest pressed against your back.

“If you scream, I’ll tell your parents that this was all your idea. They’d be terribly disappointed in you y/n, and you’d be known as a whore for the rest of your life. I’d tread carefully if I was you.” Geto whispered in your ear as he lowered his hand.

“It’s my word against yours…” You said, voice barely above a whisper. God you could just picture his dumb fucking smirk right now. “You’re not actually naive enough to believe that, right?”

You just remained silent and unmoving, until you felt your kimono being undone. Before you could even process anything that’s happening, it falls into a heap on the floor. The next thing you feel is Geto’s hands groping your breasts through your bra. You try to swat his hands away while pleading and begging him to stop, the actions evidently being fruitless.

“Shhh, stop struggling so hard. I can make this pleasurable for both of us you know…” Was he being serious? He was in the middle of forcibly undressing you, and he thinks you’ll enjoy this?

He skillfully unhooks your bra and throws it on the floor next to your abandoned kimono. He spins you around to face him, while you try to save your dignity and cover your newly exposed breasts. The only piece of clothing you have left on are your panties, and they don’t really leave much to the imagination.

He scolds you like a child and says something about not hiding your body from him. You try to tune him out, and leave your hands crossed, covering your chest. “Are you going to make me bring your parents in? I’m sure they’d love to hear about how disobedient and disrespectful their daughter is to their “esteemed leader”.” God he was so fucking childish, you hated how he called himself an “esteemed leader”. Really, he wasn’t very “esteemed” at all. You wonder if he had done this before to other girls, if you were just one of his many victims.

Reluctantly, you eventually lower your hands to your sides, and look away out of shame. This was the first time any man had seen you like this. Geto let out a low whistle, while you thought about how much he disgusted you. He then effortlessly picked you up bridal style, and carried you back to the middle of the room where the mat resides.

While in his hold you feel something hard poking at your side. Whoa. Before you can ponder about it further he places you on top of the mat on your back. The next thing you know he’s ripping your panties off and spreading your legs. You let out a shriek at the loss of the last barrier between you and Geto. “Your pussy is even cuter than I thought.” He states brazenly while pushing two fingers into your cunt without warning. You let out a loud gasp at the sudden intrusion. You are a virgin, but you’re also a woman who has needs, and has obviously pleasured herself before. But Geto’s fingers were unlike anything you had ever experienced before.

You let out little mewls of pleasure while his long fingers scissored and curled inside of you, occasionally hitting your sweet spot. Your cheeks were burning red with embarrassment, you knew it was only biology but still, you shouldn’t actually be enjoying this. Still, you arched your back and threw your head back in pleasure as you felt a knot tightening inside of you. Just when it was about to snap, he pulled his fingers out.

You let out a whine in protest as your back hit the floor, you send him a nasty glare. “What happened to not wanting this? I mean just look at how wet you are.” He says with a shit eating grin plastered on his face. You were going to retort until he shoved his fingers into your mouth, making you gag and taste your own essence. “Uh-uh, I don't wanna hear a word out of you anymore.”

After removing his fingers he roughly flipped you onto your back and propped you up on your hands and knees. You heard the sound of clothes rustling and pants falling. Only then did you realise that you were in deep shit. You turned and looked back at him to say something about how you weren’t ready, but then you saw it. Geto’s cock, right in front of you. You had never seen a man’s dick up close or in the flesh before, but you knew that that was not average. And you also knew that there was no way it was going to fit inside of you.

“Like what you see? By the look on your face I’d say you’re quite amazed.” Most likely referring to your mouth hanging slightly open, and your dumbfounded expression. “Geto, I-I don’t think that’s going to fit.” You mumble under your breath. “First you don’t want it, then you want it, and now you don’t want it again. I wish you’d just make up your mind.” He lets out a loud sigh.

“Not that it really matters what you want though, I’ll make it fit.” The next thing you know, you feel the tip of his cock pushing into you. You try to get up and move away but his muscular arms hold you still by your hips. You open your mouth to tell him to stop, but right at that moment, he pushes his cock into you. You let out a scream as he breaks your hymen and stretches you out. You had never felt such tremendous pain before, it felt like he was ripping you apart.

He’s quick to put his hand over your mouth and silence you. “Whoa there, easy girl,” You hated how he talked to you like an animal, like you were inferior to him. “Can’t have you alerting someone now, can we?” He was such a fucking dickhead, and you had had enough. So you bit down onto his hand, hard. Geto quickly retracted his hand and murmured something angrily. You just smirked. You were happy about this one victory, even if it was small.

“You know, I was gonna make this enjoyable for you too, but since you wanna act like a bitch, I’ll fucking treat you like one.” Was all he said before he violently grabbed your hips again and started ramming his cock into you. If you weren’t bleeding initially, you definitely were now. Surely his fingers didn’t stretch you out enough for his cock. You were never good with estimates but it had to be at least seven inches.

Geto was hitting your cervix with every thrust, probably bruising it in the process. It felt like he was rearranging your guts. Abruptly, he pushed your head down into the floor. “Fuck, you’re so tight, such a fucking slutty pussy.” He delivered a sharp slap to your left ass cheek while groaning in pleasure when you tightened up around him. Embarrassingly that’s what made you climax, and see stars. You were glad your cheek was currently pressed against the floor looking away from him, because you were bright red from shame. “Yeahh, you like that whore? Like it when I hit you.”

Tears started to spill from your eyes. You didn’t think it could get any more degrading than this. But he just loved to prove you wrong, didn’t he. “Mmm, I’m so close-” He threw his head back in pleasure. “This pussy’s all mine, isn’t it? Say it.” He said, slightly slurring his words. To be honest you hadn’t really processed what he had said at all, you were too busy worrying about what was going to happen after this was all over.

“I told you to fucking say it!” He wrapped your hair around his fist and pulled your head back so hard, you thought the force might snap your neck. You’d rather eat shit than say something so deranged, but he was pulling on your hair so hard, your scalp was burning. “This pussy’s yours-!” You blurted out, much louder than you anticipated.

That’s what seemed to push him over the edge as he let your hair go, and came to a halt inside of you. You were just relieved he had stopped mercilessly pounding into you, and it had presumably ended. Only once you felt a warm liquid inside of you did you start to panic again. There was no way he had just come inside you, right? He wouldn’t be that cruel.

You heard a light chuckle come from behind you as he pulled out. You crumbled to the floor without his support. You felt his cum drip out of your used pussy, but you were too exhausted to care about that right now. Geto’s finger scooped it back up and pushed it back inside of you. You moaned in pain as your cunt was really fucking sore.

“Now, now, don’t waste any, you too agreed that it would be the highest honour to bear my children. Let’s just hope it sticks” He says with contempt flashing you his signature smirk.

#jjk #jjk smut #jjk x reader #geto suguru #geto x reader #geto smut #getou suguru x reader #smut #tw noncon #jujutsu kaisen #degrading k1nk #cult leader suguru #manipulation #suguru geto

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schmergo · 7 months

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I’m gonna turn 32 in nearly a month and I personally like being in my 30s a lot. I am not self-conscious or concerned with this. I look 30something, I feel 30something, and I am totally cool with this. I don’t feel like 32 is old or past prime (heck, I’m not even old enough to run for President) and I am even more excited to turn 33 in 2025, the age that hobbits traditionally come of age.

I think a lot of the doom and gloom posts about being in your 30s are overblown at best and a load of hogwash at worst and it makes me sad to see my younger friends feel nervous about hitting that 30 year milestone.

Your body does not instantly fall apart the second you blow out your birthday candles. You don’t immediately lose interest in doing anything you thought was fun in your 20s. (Hint: if you do, that’s called depression).

But I do have one warning for you if you’re a young person swiftly approaching 30, one sign of aging that I never hear anyone talking about but that was, for me, the harbinger of coming decrepitude.

One day, you may look at Captain von Trapp, as portrayed by Christopher Plummer in The Sound of Music (1965) and go, “Okay, hmmm, I kinda get what Maria sees in him,” when you know for a fact you once saw him as “old” when you were younger. That’s the point of no return. That’s the crucial transition point from “hip youth” to “grownup.”

Then one day, you may realize that Christopher Plummer was the same age as many of your friends when he made that movie. (He was 35.) And that’s the moment you’ve fully crossed the bridge into maturity. The sooner you process that, the more you’ll enjoy the rest of your 30s. Bon voyage!

#millennial #Gen z #aging #sound of music #musicals

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hana-no-seiiki · 2 years

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Idk if this is a request or something but I just wanted to get it out there before I forget it. How would the batfam react to a batsis coming from the last of us universe?( the last of us is a zombie apocalypse type game.) How would they react to all of batsis PTSD from being born in a world over ran by zombie’s and learning to survive at a young age. How would they help them? How would they react if they ever were transported to there(batsis) world?

Sorry for this random ask I just wanted to get this out there before I forget about it. Anyway hope you have a great week!

SOFT YANDERE BATFAM x THE LAST OF US! READER BRAINROT

Recently had a TLOU brainrot (at this point it’s more of a heartrot with how devastating the story is eugh) so this came at a perfect timing. I’m guessing batsib (I’ll make it gn I hope you don’t mind anon) has a similar life to elle if they’re not just elle entirely.

I think Batsib would have to be close to the boys before they eventually spill their guts (aka their severe trauma out).

Like when they’re at least 60% there on the yan scale of things.

They see signs like you being hella adamant on the boys at least trying to fix their relationship with Bruce since you know the most out of everyone how it feels to lose a father figure.

You’re the closest with Jason purely because you both have baggage, and luckily you like to talk about it and sort it out.

Your whole life had been the apocalypse so going to Gotham and seeing everything in its prime fascinated you. When the Batfam first took you in due to your status as an anomaly, it took very little to impress you.

But it also took a lot to terrify you.

If we’re going full on Ellie! Reader here then them (batfam) seeing that huge bite mark on your arms, presumably after you’ve dumped info on your past and your reality, almost turned them feral.

It was that moment they decided to never let you go back.

You’re allowed to join them with their vigilante activities as long as you were under strict surveillance.

Bruce is kind of off-put by your nonchalance when it comes to beating up people to a pulp. He had to jump in and stop you from completely killing a dude.

Jason on the other hand approves. Definitely eggs you on.

The rest of the boys, as is my headcannon with any violent MC, get turned on when they see you covered in blood.

In summary, they definitely cherish you more. The spoiling is dialed up to eleven. And since you didn’t know much of the world prior to its apocalypse state, they wouldn’t lock you up like in most cases and instead bring you to explore as much as you’d like.

There is a sick part of them that enjoys your PTSD and how dependent (and distrusting of others) you can be because of it. So unless it gets really bad where you can’t get sleep at all I can see them just not trying to get help for you.

ON THE MORE WHOLESOME SIDE:

I am now imagining reader going to a museum with them all and just climbing the fossil in front of like dozens of people while screaming “LOOK AT ME I’M ON A MOTHERFUCKING DINOSAURRRR!”

Bruce definitely had to pay a lot for that

and all the younger ones + Dick cause he’s Dick throwing fedora hats on all the dinos??? please im on my knees that’s too cute augh-

If they were ever transported in your world, it’d definitely be the other way around. Say you aren’t like Ellie and are completely susceptible to the infection- oof you might as well just be in jail.

They’ll disinfect everything. Masks 24/7. Generally just extremely careful as to not get infected or infect you in any shape or form.

Tim has already researched on fungal infections so you bet he’s ready. Wouldn’t be surprised if he single-handedly ends the apocalypse with how thorough he was. Him, Dick, and Alfred focus more on taking care of you.

Jason and Damian are more with survival and the annihilation of anything that may be dangerous to you within the vicinity. May it be zombies, thieves, the military and what not.

Bruce is probably tinkering on more equipment and helping Tim with actually getting rid of the fungi. The former will definitely use his charm and looks to get more supplies.

In short, these dudes have everything on lockdown.

You’ll wish you didn’t come back to your original world.

A.N. I hope this was to your liking anon!

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 1 year

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Up All Night 1

Warnings: dark elements, noncon, age gap, narcissim, probably name calling and nasty words, other dark elements. Proceed with caution. (older!reader)

Note: I wasn't serious about this but now I were. Please let me know what you think as it helps me a lot with ideas and I love interacting with you all.

Part of The Club AU

You rub your cheek as you check the time in the corner of the screen. You should’ve been gone an hour ago, you should have your bottle of shiraz and your episode of housewives to keep you company. You don’t know why you expected that, nothing ever goes to schedule, not with your boss.

You sigh at his empty office. You haven’t seen him for two days. He has an automatic reply that he’s ‘working remotely’. You know Mr. Drysdale well enough. He doesn’t work outside the office, he barely does anything at the office.

You go back to the PDF, your red notes in the margin of the manuscript. Big meeting tomorrow. Hopefully your boss got that message. You can only imagine what would happen if a publishing house missed their introductory conference with a major writer. That could mean thousands, if not millions, in losses. Somehow, you suspect you won’t have to imagine.

You finish the chapter and press your finger to your phone. It lights up but you don’t have anything more than the several reminders you set for yourself and automated notifications from apps you never use. Drysdale…

His last name rolls from your throat without meaning too. Something about him just irks you to the bone. Maybe it’s envy, or at very least, resent. You’ve worked all these years in the publishing business to become an assistant, all while he was born into his editor’s chair.

Another bubble pops up. You’re not the social media type. You never got much into it. Your generation came a bit too early for that, but you’ve found with men like Drysdale, narcissists really, it is a great tool.

You tap the notification and it opens the story. There he is, taking a shot with a pair of statuesque twins. Not the best look for an editor, on that night, of all nights.

You clamp your lips shut and flare your nostrils. Right. You close your laptop as you see Eugene making his sweep. Once security pops up, you know you’ve got to go. You pack up your things and say hello to the man in the blue uniform on your way out. He knows you by name too.

You shift your glasses on your nose, the little rubber pieces starting to squeeze your bridge. You come out the front of the building and make your way to the only car left in the lot. You throw your bag in the back and drop into the front seat.

No wine for you. You’ll have to stream the episode when it comes out on Prime. You set a new alarm for the morning, early enough for you to make sure Mr. Drysdale meets his obligations.

📗

As expected, you don’t have a single call from Drysdale. You’ve left several messages since your alarm blared and broke through your four hours of sleep. You see his last activity on Insta from three in the morning and you want to throttle your own phone. This isn’t good.

You have only enough time to get yourself ready. Your morning routine of a perfectly portioned breakfast and precisely brewed dark roast is nixed. You get in your car with coffee in a travel mug. You have only one thing on your mind.

As you draw up the long drive to the ultra-modern facade, the revulsion courses from your stomach into your throat. There’s something about his style that makes your eyes roll. So obnoxious and absurd. He’s exactly a caricature of a silver-spooned brat.

You park behind the beamer and take a draw from your insulated mug. Ugh, you need caffeine, you need strength and patience. You put it back in the cupholder and force yourself out of the peace of the front seat.

You stride up the white stone walkway and hit the doorbell. Once. Twice. Five times before you admit you will not receive an answer. You bring up the emergency file in your phone and key in the door code. Drysdale would shit if he knew his mother sent you it but she is a lot smarter than him. It makes you wonder how the apple rolled so far away after falling.

You let yourself in. It’s quiet but for the catch and skip of a forgotten record. You go into the front room. Open bottles of liquor forgotten on the glass table, a broken glass on the floor, and the record player crackling through the speaker.

You pull the needle off and pause to look out through the transparent wall that gives a clear view of the entire room. You know Drysdale to be shameless but really?

You put your phone away and approach the stares. The large gap between each gives a sense of vertigo to your ascent. You get to the top and head down the hall, glancing down over the entryway as you do.

You carry on and open a door; closet. The next, a bathroom, the other, a bedroom but not used. And finally, you find the door you’re looking for. On the other side, Mr. Drysdale sleeps with his ass naked in the room, upside down on the bed with his head hanging off the foot. The same woman from his Instagram are entwined with him as they sleep the right side up. Ugh, you don’t want to picture it.

You go into the en suite bathroom and take the sleek black plastic cup from beside the sink. You fill it with cold water and unhook the amber satin robe from the door as you pass. You march to the bed and dump the water onto Ransom’s head, watching it splash down his back.

He yipes and whips his head up with an unattractive snort, “what the fuck–”

“Robert Laing is due at nine. It’s ten to eight.” You drop the robe over him carelessly and spin on your heel, “let’s go., Mr. Drysdale.”

#ransom drysdale #dark ransom drysdale #dark!ransom drysdale #ransom drysdale fanfiction #drabble #au #up all night #series #the club #knives out

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ilovetoxicfictionalmen · 1 year

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"MAYBE WE COULD HAVE DINNER"

Pairing - Lenny Miller x fem!reader

Summary - With your cooperation being over, it's time for that dinner date Lenny promised.

Warnings - semi-public sex, fingering, voyeurism, dub con, controlling.

Word count - 2.3k+

“Maybe we could have dinner”

As if that would be an option. CIA agent Lenoard ‘Lenny’ Miller was a man that always got his way. He always got what he wanted, and he wanted you. Lenny was pleased to discover you when you became a prime suspect for the assassination of a German politician. He became eager to have you in the palm of his hand. And it was easy catching leverage on you. You didn’t want this life, you wanted a normal life. And you were almost free of it. Now you just fell from one pair of hands to another. Lenny was a nice handler to you however. He gave you the resources you needed and didn’t put all that pressure on you. The only issue was that he was possessive over you, he had to know what you were doing at all times. You thought it was bullshit that you had to stay in the same lodging or connecting hotel rooms as you. “I just want to look after you” he claimed.

There was a lot of tension between you two. He watched you as if he was eye fucking you. Lenny’s thumb would brush over his lips a lot when you gave him reports. Don’t mention how he was always checking you out, sometimes he would even touch you ‘harmlessly’. To fix up your shirt or to get past you it would seem to the blind eye. It was nothing you weren’t used to. Just all a part of the job, you would tell yourself. It surprised you with how he just didn’t take you, claim you, fuck you. He was professional though, he wanted the work done first. Business before pleasure after all.

But business is over now and Lenny didn’t hesitate to jump straight into pleasure.

The choice of restaurant was exactly how you expected it. A five star restaurant in a high rise building. A small orchestra performing classical music by the over the top water fountain. There was no coincidence that your reservation was an isolated, dimly lit booth. Just your luck. You hoped Lenny was a respectable man.

You were wearing a strapless black sequin mini dress, accompanied by black heels. A couple of silver rings on your fingers, Finished off with a matching set of silver threader earrings and lariat necklace. He brought you the whole outfit. With the excuse that tonight was a special occasion and he thought it would look beautiful on you. He wore a typical black and white suit, hair styled the same. It looked good on him, obviously.

Lenny loved to ramble on. Gloating on all of his accomplishments over the years. The way he talked was seductive however but you refused to fall for his act. Half of his stories fell deaf onto your ears throughout the expensive and exquisite courses of foods you’ve never even heard of before. You would merely chuckle at a random sentence and have another sip of champagne.

“Anyways, that’s enough about me. Tell me more about you”

You knew he just wanted to fuck you. But it would just make him look sweeter this way. Taking you out for a fancy dinner, asking you about your hobbies and dreams. He was extremely charming nevertheless. Too charming to be a CIA agent, that’s for sure. But he was a bit too old for your style, it intimidated you a lot. You were used to guys your age, but you hardly got around to fucking people anyways. Only a couple of guys over the years, you like to think that you put your line of work first and you were always working. The only older guys you would flirt with on assignments were creepy perverts. Luckily you never had to go to the extent of fucking.

The expensive champagne made his voice seem like it would taste like sugar and honey. He spoke in such confidence, the way the words would come off his lips so relaxed and calm. His eyes spoke louder than his words however. They were dripping with desire. He would be analysing your every move. How your chest would raise when he would ask you of your childhood or how relaxed you would become when he would make you laugh over something silly. His body language also said a lot. He was leaning closer to you, but kept a short respectable distance.

The rim of the whisky glass rested at his lips as he watched you play with your food. You didn’t like to eat much, or you still didn’t feel comfortable around him. Lenny finished his whiskey and waved his hand to the waiter for another. The buzz of the champagne distracted you, when you looked back over to Lenny he slid down the booth right next to you.

“By the way, I’m very proud of you” he said controlled, but his captivating blue eyes, they said a lot. “For your cooperation and excellent work. You helped me out a lot” he added, his left hand resting on your bare thigh and right hand wrapped around your back keeping you close. “I hope this dinner can show my gratitude” he whispered, his left hand trailing circles on your skin. You took in a sharp breath from his actions, feeling the goosebumps rapidly spreading. “Are you enjoying yourself? I figure you do this a lot, go to fancy dinners and drink overpriced champagne that always tastes the same. But I would like to think that our date is a bit different. This is pleasure, not business after all” he said with ease, his hand raising up your thigh.

“Still feels like business to me” you scoffed, eyes darting around to see if anyone is watching, but you were in the clear.

Lenny laughed quietly and leaned closer to your ear, his hand gripping onto your inner thigh. “You didn’t have to come if you didn’t want to” he snorted.

Bullshit. You were still under his order. But then yet again, you didn’t turn down his offer of dinner. So you will never really know if there was a choice. His fingers rub against your covered pussy. You knew you were going to get fucked by him tonight, but you didn’t think it would make such a slutty move here. He was a CIA agent after all. Lenny lets out a distasteful sigh, he really hoped you went bare. You were grateful there was a long black table cloth covering this assault from the public eye. But everyone would be too focused on themselves to notice you anyways.

It was hard, pretending that you didn’t enjoy his touch. But you still had a bit of dignity left. You took another sip of your champagne, his chin rested on your shoulder as he continued to stroke your core. Your skin quickly heated up and your thighs began to tremble. The waiter came back with a new glass of whiskey for Lenny. But he went unnoticed by Lenny, as he was occupied assaulting your bare neck. His jaw was clenched and eyes locked onto you, fucking perv. But he wouldn’t dare to say anything, this probably happened a lot around here. Lenny will just have to cough up a generous tip.

“Would you like any desserts?” he asked finally, eyes stuck on you still. You kept your face pointed away, extremely embarrassed by the situation.

Lenny sat up straight and sighed, his arms returning to his sides in the process. “Darling?” he asked you innocently, looking at you.

“No thank you” you mumbled, just wanting the waiter to fuck off. He’s probably resisting not rubbing himself off.

“Just the bill please” Lenny grinned.

When the waiter left, Lenny returned to his previous position. He kissed your neck and jaw. A soft whimpering moan left your lips as he stroked your sweet spot. He chuckled by your ear, a finger slipped past your thong and right into your canal. Your cheeks were so flustered, you were grateful for the dim lighting. The last thing you needed was Lenny to see how overwhelmed he had gotten you. But he already knew that, as he could feel the heat on your cheeks and how you were shaking down there. You shuddered when his free hand grabbed the side of your face to bring you in closer.

“Are you not enjoying this?” he asked, offended by your response. You didn’t reply. “If you want me to stop, you just have to ask” he teased.

There were no tricks. All you had to do was say “stop”, so why couldn’t you? It had been a while, feeling a man's touch. And you would be lying if you told him that you weren’t enjoying it. And you would be lying even more if you didn’t develop an eccentric ‘little’ crush on him. Even though Lenoard Miller was an manipulative, arrogant asshole who blackmailed you into working for him, he was fucking gorgeous. He had the most mesmerising side profile you have ever seen. You’ve never been with someone this older than you however. It would be daunting knowing how extremely experienced he was. You don’t want to embarrass yourself in front of him, how could you look at him the same way?

“You don’t want me to stop, do you?” he laughed, a second finger pumping inside of you now.

You didn’t.

“You like this mhm? My fingers deep inside of you while we are at a fucking restaurant? I knew you’d be a dirty little whore. Female killers always are, craving a powerful man’s dick so fucking bad. You type of girls always just need someone to show your place. And you belong under me. You got that?” he growled, holding your face close to him while his fingers were still deep inside of you.

“Y-yes sir” you whimpered, a heavy gulp followed.

It was crazy how accurate he was. You did crave that, despite how much you ignored those feelings and thoughts, to be underneath someone. You liked being controlled, you liked not having the options of choices in your life. It was all you had ever known after all. It was all a pretence, a strong independent woman who could always defend herself. You didn’t want that life, it was so exhausting. This is common though, all female assassins have major daddy issues.

You both heard the waiter cough to get someone’s attention. Lenny grumbled, his clean hand slipped into jacket pocket and he threw his wallet towards the waiter. Moans started to viciously leave your lips as his fingers pumped in and out of you faster. Your head fell onto his shoulder, one hand holding onto his opposite shoulder around his back and the other hand gripped onto his upper arm. Lenny laughed and leaned you both back in the booth seat.

“Come on, don’t be greedy. Give me a rub sweetheart” he sneered, nuzzling your forehead.

Your hand hesitantly fell from his arm to his crotch. It was shocking how thick he felt. It seemed to be as hard as cement somehow. Your palm rubbed him through his trousers. A groan slipped from his lips and he kissed you intensely. His tongue slipped down your throat before you could even fight his tongue off. You moaned into his hot mouth, his fingers travelling deeper inside of you. Your hand gripped onto the outline of his cock, kneading him in unison of his pumps.

You tightened around his fingers. Lenny knew you were about to fucking orgasm. He slid in four fingers, you almost screamed. Your mouths separated, both panting. “Does my baby need to come?” he teased, pace slowly down.

“Ye-yes, please Lenny. Please!” you begged, kissing his neck desperately. Your hand tried to slip into his trousers but the belt obstructed the access and you were too frustrated to undo it. Lenny chuckled, slowly picking up his pace again.

“Who do you belong to?” he asked blankly, staring at you with dark eyes.

“You, I-I belong to you” you cried, your hips rocking on his fingers since he wasn’t doing good enough for you at the moment.

“Such a needy little slut” he grinned as he returned to give you the satisfaction you desired. The satisfaction you needed. “You ready? To come all over my hand?” he smirked, all four fingers deep inside of you. His knuckles started to slip inside of you as well, his thumb rubbing your clit perfectly. You clenched around his hand, you were a whimpering mess. “Kiss me, I would hate for you to get everyone’s attention from screaming”.

You did as he said. It was good advice, because he hit your sensitive spot right after. You moaned into his mouth again. Greedily, you stopped touching him as you were completely focused on yourself.

You were breathless as you were coming undone your handler’s hands. Your face fell forward, biting onto Lenny’s shoulder as your cries muffled out against Lenny’s shirt. He hissed, but he was grinning at the same time. You humped onto his hand, riding out your climax to its full extent. As you finished on him, your body went limp onto him. He was so fucking intoxicating.

His soaked hand slipped out of you. Looking at his sticky fingers briefly, he sucked them clean, moaning in the process. You held onto his body tightly, panting like you had just run a marathon. Lenny planted a soft kiss to your heated forehead as he picked up his whiskey. He noticed the bill and his wallet back on the table and smirked to himself. He downed his whisky in one hit.

“Come on, I’m not done with you yet” he whispered into your ear, you nodded your head softly realising that your night is far from over.

#cillian murphy x reader #cillian murphy #lenny miller #anna 2019 #dub con #cillian x y/n #lenny miller x reader #cillian x fem!reader

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