#i will not lie i think this fic is my favorite that i've written this year | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

ooihcnoiwlerh · 3 months ago

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WHAT UP, MY DARLINGS

Sorry for the long hiatus. New full-time job was kicking my ass, and I also realized there were a lot of changes I wanted to make to what I'd already written. That said, new chapter of my Feyd Rautha/Reader arranged marriage!AU is up.

Link to full AO3 fic here

Tags and CW for this chapter: switching; riding; body worship; come-eating; knifeplay; nipple play; oral sex (M+receiving); mentions of past self-harm; masochism; orgasm delay; teasing; subspace!Feyd; pregnancy discussions; dom!Feyd as well as sub!Feyd; both dom! and sub!reader; subspace and subdrop; collars; leashes; blindfolds; face-fucking; implied/referenced past child abuse; implied/referenced past incest; the Reader being an unreliable narrator/having way too much trust in the Bene Gesserit; mentions of Feyd's mommy issues

This takes place seconds after the previous chapter so if you need a refresher I also have the previous tumblr chapter here. Even with the tags up above this is definitely the softest and most romantic chapter I've put up so far. Like, by a significant margin.

CHAPTER TEN: UNLEASHED

For a few minutes all you do is kiss, lazily, trying not to move your hips too much as you lay atop him and his hands pass over your ribcage, your sides, your hips, before curling into your hair.

You're sweet like this, you almost say. Never thought I'd be able to say that about you.

You drop your head and bring your mouth just below his ear, at the juncture of his jaw and neck. Past experiences dating even prior to him taught you that this is a weak spot for you, and it appears to be the case for him as well as he gasps. You remember the knife beside you, think about how he always enjoys a bit of pain to heighten his pleasure, and curl your fingers around the hilt.

You’re almost stunned at your own confidence as you do it, your bone-deep certainty that Feyd will enjoy this, as you lean upwards, taking the knife, and just barely pressing it against his chest, drawing a thin red line that ends just above his left nipple. The cut’s shallow and the knife’s sharp so it probably doesn’t hurt much, even as Feyd shifts and arches his hips, browline furrowing and mouth falling open in a silent gasp. And then you lean down and lap up the blood welling up in slow, deliberate licks.

His dick twitches inside of you, and you gasp as it starts to fill out–slower than before, but awakening all the same. He gives a rattling breath as you close your teeth around the nipple and tug lightly. His hand curls around the back of your head but applies no pressure, as if he isn’t sure if he wants you to keep going or pull back, groaning and filling out more as you gently roll your hips and set the knife down beside you. You smirk around his bare skin, clench around his finally-stiff cock, and think, Alright. I think it’s safe to say you’re ready for round two .

You sit up all the way, then, fanning your fingertips over his chest at first, fingertips of your right hand catching the last tear-droplets of blood that you bring to your mouth, sucking on your fingertips as you roll your hips properly. Will he wear his favorite collar next time he lets you use him like this? Will he still lie docile, waiting for you to command him?

You picture it, and groan at the idea: him with his hands tied–wrists bound above his head, or maybe, oh, Great Mother, tied to the bedposts. Is that why he has hooks on each of his bedposts? You laugh, the heat already building up your spine, coming swiftly for you as you bear down on him, head falling back as the laughter turns into a moan as you shift your hips in just the right angle. Incredible . You can’t help it as the words spill out of you. “I could do this all night,” you tell him. “I– oh, fuck– I could ride your fat cock all night. Would you like that, Feyd?”

He groans an affirmative, and you feel all the hotter for it, stunned at how quickly the heat builds again, at the obscene squelch of your slick around him. You move his hands from your hips to your breasts and he immediately understands your instructions, squeezing and fondling them as you topple effortlessly into your third orgasm, leaning back at just the right angle, both hands braced on his thighs.

Thing is, you meant it when you said you could keep going, if nothing else than sheer force of will. You keep moving, desperate to come again, desperate to keep him inside of you for just a little longer, searching for the moment where you hit your threshold.

“Don’t come yet,” you tell him, panting. “Not until I come again.”

Feyd groans under you and it takes you a moment to realize that it’s not out of protest, but arousal. You try to make sense of it as you finally understand the phrase ‘ drunk with power ’ because the hold you have over him right now is utterly intoxicating.

It makes sense; one of Feyd’s strongest qualities is his discipline. You venture further, trying your luck. “If you want to come then make yourself useful, Feyd,” you tell him, and he gets to work, spitting on his thumb and bringing it to your bud, as if you’d need the extra lubrication when you can feel his previous spend leaking out of you.

You reach down and pinch both nipples, twisting. His hips jolt up, nearly knocking the wind out of you as it feels like his cock is all the way up in your ribcage, but he doesn’t come, even as he gives an agonized groan and the cords of muscle in his neck bulge. He arches his back, jaw clenched, eyes shut.

Oh, that won’t do .

“Look at me, Feyd,” you tell him. You want him to see your face when you come, and it’s so close you’re about to lose your mind. Four times in one night . You didn’t think such a thing was possible.

He obeys you with a low groan, working your bud faster, managing to meet your frantic pace, his pupils blown wide, beautiful and pitiful and vulnerable and entirely at your mercy. His cock has never felt so good , you think, one final roll of your hips hitting just at the right angle inside of you.

You come with a guttural wail, head falling back, trembling and feeling utterly possessed, hips still moving but quickly losing rhythm, just frantic grinding on top of him to wring every last drop of pleasure you can get out of him.

Feyd gives out a pained growl of his own but you don’t feel the tell-tale sensation of him spilling within you. You open your eyes as you pant and stare down at his slack face.

Please. Please tell me I can come, Y/N, he seems to be pleading with you . I need your permission to come. Have I not been good for you? he seems to ask. And he has been good, hasn’t he? So good and obedient, laying there and taking it, letting you use him. The grip he has on your hips is going to leave bruises and you’ll prod at them later with fondness.

“That’s it, come for me, Feyd,” you tell him, and he does, spasming, hips bucking up into you as he groans, still sounding like he’s either in paradise or agony and that he loves it either way. The moment lasts for another moment, him spurting inside of you as every muscle seems locked, and then on an exhale he sinks back down, his grip on your hips and thighs loosening.

He shuts his eyes as he gathers his breath and his face starts to relax.

“Hey,” you say, voice gentler this time, waiting for him to absorb the words. “Look at me,” you tell him as you stroke his cheek. He does, eyes opening wide and bright, full lips parted. You smile down at him, thinking, you’re so beautiful . And he is beautiful, in the way that a briefly-tamed beast is beautiful. For a moment you remain still, sitting on him, feeling him softening inside of you, wondering what he’s seeing when he stares up at you. If it’s as stunning to him as he is to you right now. Then you finally dismount, panting, looking at the pallor of his face as close to flushed as he’s ever going to get.

You wonder–while he’s like this, open and vulnerable, if maybe he’d–? Even still in a near-euphoric haze, you pay close attention to the way he breathes when you lean down and kiss his neck, when you nip at his pulse point again. He gives a soft sigh and you slide down further and scrape your teeth across one of his nipples. This time he gasps, hands leaving your sides to clutch at the sheets.

“Yes, that’s good,” you murmur. “Keep them there.”

He does, and you watch the corded muscles of his forearms clench and shift to obey you. You smile again, feeling strangely fond, as you go lower.

His pants are still around his knees and it doesn’t take much effort to tug them down and toss them over the edge of the bed. His cock is utterly coated in both of you, and a thought occurs that’s so obscene it surprises you, but piques your curiosity.

After half a second of hesitation, you lick the spend off of his cock and go lower, to where it’s drizzled down one testicle, and then the other. He’s never let you do this before, never let you taste and touch him on your own terms rather than feeding his cock into the cavern of your mouth, and the idea of continuing to play with him is too tempting to ignore.

His breath hitches and his stomach clenches, and for a moment you pause, waiting for him to tell you to stop, but he doesn’t. He trembles under you, spreading his legs a little more, and you look up to see his eyes squeezed shut, his mouth open in a wet gasp.

“Do you like this, husband?” you ask him. You keep your voice quiet, as if any volume above your near-whisper would penetrate the fog that’s settled over you. He jerks a nod.

It should probably feel subservient, licking him clean like this. It doesn’t. You’ve never felt more powerful in your life. You kiss the top of one thigh, wanting to bring your mouth to his scars, but refraining. He’s being so pliant, so patient for you–you don’t want to risk ruining it, uncertain if such an intimate touch there would. Instead you finally bring them up. “These scars don’t match.”

Feyd makes a noise like he’s only starting to come back to his senses, but still foggy. Still lost.

“The scars on your legs. One of the legs has different cuts from the other.” You stroke his hip and outer thigh as you stay propped up above him. “How’d you get them?” You don’t think they came from the Baron.

“Left leg, seventeen. A woman did it to me,” Feyd says. “I asked her to.” Asked . Not commanded. Interesting. “Right leg, a few weeks later. Did it to myself, wanted to replicate the feeling.”

You glance back down between his thighs as he’s still obediently laid out before you. The scars on his right thigh look deeper and angrier with shorter strokes. “Did it work?”

“Not really. It’s not the same if you do it to yourself,” he says. “I just ended up losing a lot of blood and passing out.”

You give a soft hum and nuzzle your cheek against his inner right thigh before turning your head and licking along the scars. His breath hitches, and you sink your teeth in. It’s more of a playful bite, not hard enough to even try to break skin, before coming back up, face to face with him.

Feyd kisses you languidly, accepting the taste of you, of him, on his tongue, and burying both hands in your hair. He sighs into it, closing his eyes, relaxing into it and letting you control the pace until you break away, coming down from the peaks you’ve reached.

You’re an utter mess between your legs, you think as you set the knife on your nightstand and the two of you pull up the covers that had been kicked down around both of your ankles earlier.

How did they end up that way, again? Oh, right, my husband ambushed me in bed while I was asleep and rewarded me by letting me use his body as my personal playground .

“You know,” he says, still seeming somewhat out of it–and no wonder, you are, too– “there are devices, something I can wear next time you ride me. It would delay things even further, making you able to come five times for every time I come once. You’d be able to ride me for hours, if you wanted.”

Part of you would prefer to test his self-control to its furthest limits without the use of an aid, but his suggestion makes you smile as you settle in with him. “That so?” you ask.

“You took to it like nothing I’ve ever seen, Y/N,” he says, as you settle back, turning off the lights once more.

He turns to lay on top of you; you feel him squeeze his eyes shut as he rests his head against your shoulder. You can’t help but smile to yourself as you gently stroke the back of his head and neck and wrap your other arm around his back.

It’s something wonderful and powerful he’s given you, and you’re certain that he wouldn’t have unless he felt you earned it.

He takes a deep breath as he wraps his arms around you, as he moves his body down lower and lays his head on your stomach.

“Is this what you need, husband?” you ask. There’s probably proper terminology for this sort of thing, but you don’t know it.

He nods.

“In a couple of days we’ll find out if life’s growing in there,” you say idly as he nuzzles against the soft skin of your belly.

“There is. A boy,” he tells you and you laugh. Wishful thinking. How could he possibly know?

“I saw him,” he says, as if he can read your thoughts. “Dreamt about you giving birth to him.”

“A dream doesn’t predict the future, though,” you tell him as you absently run your fingers over the back of his head and neck.

“It’s not the first time I’ve dreamt of something that came true, faces I’d never seen before but met later on,” he says.

“Oh?” you ask, and he gives a grunt in the affirmative, but says nothing else. His breathing grows slower and his muscles slack. You lay there in silence with him as he drifts off, still nestled against your stomach.

It's not the most comfortable position to try and fall asleep in, but you'll give him this. You laugh quietly to yourself as you look up at the ceiling.

You have to remind yourself that your husband of one month just pretended to be an assassin to test your training and reflexes, and it’s somehow brought the two of you closer together than ever before.

You wake hours later to an empty bed. There’s enough gray light streaming in to tell you before you’ve even looked at the timepiece on your nightstand that you’ve slept in. You rub the sleep out of your eyes as the events from the previous night–into the early morning–trickle back into your consciousness. For a moment you could almost believe that last night had been a dream, but the knife’s still on the bedside table and you feel a delicious soreness in your legs and abdomen and the less-enjoyable feeling of flakes of dried come on your lower lips and inner thighs. You can’t help but smile remembering Feyd slack-jawed and moaning underneath you, how good he felt inside of you from that angle, how insatiable you were.

There’s a knock at the door and you instinctively pull your sheets up to cover your breasts. “Who is it?” you call out, to hear Idrisa’s voice muffled from the other side assuring you that it’s just her with some morning refreshments.

“The Na-Baron wanted to let you sleep in, Na-Baroness,” Idrisa says as she comes in and sets down a tray.

“Oh?” you ask, reaching for your robe to put on as you swing your legs to the side of the bed and sit on its edge.

“He said you could take the morning off, Na-Baroness,” she tells you. “He said you had an eventful evening and you’re going to have a busy day. He said he wanted you well-rested.”

Last time he'd given you the morning off, it'd been because he was furious with you. You can't imagine that being the case today, but you’re also not entirely sure, and that makes you nervous. His birthday is two days from now; you can't afford to be on poor terms with him right now, between the Bene Gesserit visiting tomorrow and Feyd 's arena showing the day after that.

“How did he seem?” you ask, trying to process everything and imagining that a little caffeine will help.

“I did not see him, Na-Baroness,” Idrisa says. “I’d received word from a Fortress guard what his instructions had been. I heard nothing to suggest that he was in a foul mood, though.”

“Alright,” you say, still thinking, still wondering what the shift last night started will mean for you, in and out of the bedroom, going forward.

At breakfast there’s of course no acknowledgement of what transpired last night; neither of you would ever have that conversation in front of Feyd’s uncle anyway, but there’s a cool detachment in how Feyd treats you that feels tangible.

“Your brother sent word that he will not be attending your birthday festivities,” the Baron tells his nephew as soon as you’re seated, presumably continuing the conversation they were having before you came in.

“Best idea he’s had in months; it’ll save him the embarrassment of showing his face here,” Feyd says, wordlessly passing you a tray of fruit. The Baron narrows his eyes for a moment, looking between the two of you, as if there’s something conspicuous about a man passing a plate of food to his wife during breakfast. You look away, accepting the plate with a mouthed ‘ thank you ’ and pretending that you didn’t notice.

The conversation goes back to Feyd’s arena performance, with a brief discussion of the new Mentat, a man named Kalevi Itkonen. It’s a name you realize is familiar because he was one of the first faces you saw landing on Geidi Prime, and one that made another appearance at your wedding; a lean man who had greeted you and your family with a friendly smile that didn’t reach his dark, deep-set eyes. Affable, certainly compared to other Harkonnens, but seemingly amused at your dread and discomfort.

“May I ask what happened to the previous Mentat?” you ask.

The Baron sighs. “An unfortunate casualty during the fall of Atreides. It’s a shame; he was good. Of course, Itkonen’s fit for the job as well, if only Rabban was willing to listen to his statistics.”

If Rabban’s this bad at his job then why not reassign him to something else? Something where he isn’t in charge of Harkonnen lives? you want to ask, but instead offer your condolences. It’s thankfully the most you and the Baron interact but you don’t get any private time with Feyd to set him aside and ask if he’s alright.

Not long after breakfast Idrisa escorts you to the Dressmaker’s atelier, and the Dressmaker curtsies low and deep at your arrival.

“As requested, your gown for the Na-Baron’s birthday,” she says, stepping aside to show you the gown she made out of your measurements.

The dress is all black; common but not a requirement, you’ve noticed, for Harkonnen fashion. Shades of charcoal and gray are also in vogue, even tinted with navy or forest green. This, however, is as utterly devoid of color as Geidi Prime’s sun. That’s not what makes your eyes go wide.

“It’s revealing,” you say after a moment. The top half has thin straps, and you’re pretty sure the leather-like bands around the ribcage were added to make sure to not completely reveal your breasts, because it has a plunging neckline and no real back to speak of, you realize as you slowly walk around the mannequin. It’s fitted tight from the ribcage to the hips, only flowing once the hourglass shape ends. There’s a slit in the skirt that will reveal the curve of your thigh every time you walk. On the floor beneath it are a pair of black boots with a reasonably high heel and around the mannequin’s neck a necklace that looks almost like one of the collars Feyd-Rautha has used on you.

The Dressmaker’s face falls. “Does the Na-Baroness not like it?” she asks. “The Na-Baron specifically requested a gown that would show off his wife’s assets.”

“Thank you,” you say, realizing that you won’t be able to wear anything underneath to protect your nipples. “If that’s what he asked for then that’s certainly what he’s getting. I’m sure he’ll love it.”

It also sends quite a message. Look at the fecundity of the Na-Baroness’s body. Look at what the Na-Baron gets to take for himself whenever he wants . Look at how he owns her.

But that's the image you're meant to play. After his birthday will come the news of his upcoming fatherhood, and depending on how you play your hand, either the birth or Feyd 's coronation will come next.

You spend the afternoon practicing Harkonnen pleasantries and as such don’t see Feyd until dinnertime; he doesn’t say much, not to you or to the Baron, who reminds both of you about the Bene Gesserit visiting tomorrow.

“I trust you’ll have the results that they want,” he says, leaving the implications hanging open in the uncomfortable air between the three of you like wet laundry.

“We’ve done our part,” Feyd says, voice curt, tearing his bread in half with a little more force than usual. You’d not blame him for his irritation with his uncle but for the fact that you’re stuck here, too, sitting in uncomfortable silence, supposing you ought to be grateful that the Baron’s little jabs at your potential childbearing abilities aren’t out of any interest in you. But of course that’s due to the possibility that even though he probably hasn’t forced himself on his nephew in nearly a decade, he may still get some secondhand voyeuristic satisfaction thinking about how he performs in bed and the thought of that puts you off the rest of your dinner.

After the fact, while you’re getting ready to leave Feyd places a hand on your arm.

“Meet me in my room tonight,” he says quietly. You nod, glancing back at him, hoping for some sort of barometer for tonight and getting nothing.

Feyd’s naked, as he typically is during your night-time rendezvous, and you’ve matched him coming into his chambers. He stares at you for a moment without a word, cock not-yet awakened, his expression inscrutable.

You finally ask the question that’s been bothering you all day, hoping the honorific at the end will appease him. “Are you upset with me, husband?”

Feyd tilts his head ever so slightly. “Why would I be upset with you?” he asks, probably knowing the answer and pulling it out of you anyway. You fidget and twist your hands, trying to look him in the eye. Right now they give nothing away.

“Last night…we did something different. I liked it. It seemed like you liked it. But now I don’t know how you feel about me seeing you…like that.”

“Submissive and obedient?” he prompts you.

“Yes,” you manage, blinking, looking down, forcing yourself to look back up. Feyd’s gaze is dark, and for a moment cruel in the brief seconds of silence that drag on and make your heartbeat speed up.

“I do like it that way sometimes,” he says finally. “And I enjoyed it last night. So no, I’m not angry with you; you passed more than one test. If I’d known what you were capable of sooner, I’d have allowed you to take control sooner, but I wanted to wait to make sure you’d be equipped.”

“ Equipped? ” you repeat, raising your eyebrows. “Why?”

“Because in the past I’ve killed people who put me in that role but didn’t do it correctly,” he says. He sounds so casual and detached as he says it. “You know me well enough at this point that it won’t be an issue. My trust is not something I give out easily, so don’t take it for granted.”

“I won’t, husband,” you say quickly. “I assure you that I,” you take a breath, “I appreciate the…the trust and patience you showed me. But may I ask, why did you seem withdrawn earlier? It seemed like you regretted last night.”

A faint hint of a smile appears at the corners of his mouth. “Because it made me wonder if I could have the same effect on you.”

“I don’t think I understand,” you say. When have I not been at least to some extent obedient in bed with you? I’ve almost always been submissive.

“Don’t be naive, pet. It doesn’t suit you anymore. You saw how I got when you were on top of me, like I was almost delirious. Seemed at times like you were, last night, too. I wanna see if I can get you to that place where I’d gone last night. You’ve gotten close, but never quite there.”

You try to think. Yes, you suppose there have been times where you’ve felt a level of catharsis, exhaustion and relief, when he’s pushed your boundaries and tested how much you could take, what you enjoyed despite yourself. Thinking about it, though, he’s right. You never felt quite so dazed as Feyd looked, like he’d disappeared within himself.

Could you get there? Maybe. “So how do you want to go about it?” you ask.

“I want to see how much of it’s natural for you, see how much you trust me.”

“What makes you think you haven’t earned my trust?” you ask.

He looks at you and you can tell that if he had eyebrows, they’d be raised right now. “Because I still frighten you,” he says. “Not that I blame you; you know who and what I am, but even when you’ve enjoyed submitting to me, you’ve never quite let go and allowed me to possess you the way you did with me last night.” He crosses over to his armoire and opens a compartment in the lower drawers. “What’s been bothering me isn’t what happened last night. It’s that all day I’ve been wondering if I can really do the same to you.”

He pulls out a blindfold. You stare at it as you think about the collars, the leashes, the floggers, the clamps, the ropes and chains–the moments of shame for being subjugated replaced with shame for enjoying the sensations of it and his hungry gaze on you.

“So,” Feyd says, seeming to watch for any potential signal on your face. “Will you allow me to try?”

You’d gotten so wet last time he’d put you on a leash and collar that you’d been able to feel it trickling down the inside of your thigh. The only humiliation you’d felt then was knowing what your friends and family would think if they knew you were learning to get off to things like this. But they’re not here; it’s just you and Feyd.

You look at the blindfold for a moment before meeting his gaze again.

“Yes,” you tell him.

Feyd sets out his favorite collar for you alongside the blindfold on his dresser. After he grabs a length of silver chain he takes a step back and looks over at you as if to ask, Think you can handle it?

You simply brush your hair to the side so he can get the collar around your neck and he grins.

“Comfortable?” he asks as he fixes it around you.

“Yes, husband,” you tell him, and he gives a soft hum as he takes the blindfold and wraps it around your head. It's soft; your eyes flutter closed at the silk. His touch feels somehow more intimate with one of your senses gone.

“Good?” he asks again, and you nod. “I want a verbal confirmation.”

“Yes, husband,” you answer, meaning it. You can feel your nipples stiffening as the faint gust of his breath against the shell of your ear, hear the clink and swallow at the sudden weight of the chain being clipped to your collar. If you concentrate you think you can hear him breathing.

“Kneel,” he says, and you do, taking a deep breath, your hands at your sides. The chain starts to have more give, being tossed to you in increments as he seems to be walking way, to another spot in the room.

“Crawl over to me,” he says. “Follow the sound of my voice.”

You think you manage the right direction, moving slowly, until you hear him speak again.

“Stop right there, stay where you are,” he says, and you do, staying on your hands and knees, waiting for the next instructions. Several seconds tick by, and for a moment you drop your head, wondering what the next signal will be, what Feyd wants from you next. It doesn’t sound like he’s moved, but he can be utterly silent sometimes, so hard to detect. He’s still here, at least; you can feel the chain being held upright.

Please say something, do something. You wait, suppressing a whine, trying not to get agitated as the silence grows. You breathe in, breathe out, and try to focus on what’s grounding you–the marble floor below you, the leather of the collar and the weight of the chain. The certainty that there’s someone on the other end of it, holding it for you.

“I’m here, pet,” you suddenly hear above you. “Get on your haunches.”

You exhale. It occurs to you that a month ago you wouldn’t have imagined being relieved at the sound of a voice as rough as his, but warmth floods your belly as you do, sitting back on your heels and settling your palms on the tops of your thighs, waiting for more. Give me more. Push me. Show me what I’ve been missing and the place you went to last night while I was on top of you .

He leads you up to your knees and without thinking you open your mouth, sticking your tongue out. He’s only gotten you in this position before for one purpose, so the gesture comes naturally. There’s nothing to it, you realize.

Feyd laughs quietly above you. “That’s it. You know what to do,” he says as he pushes his cock inside. “My pretty, perfect cockslut. You love this, don’t you?”

You feel yourself flush, heat flooding your face and licking up your spine. No one’s ever called you a slut before; you’d bristle at the term were it not for the fondness in Feyd’s voice, the warmth of his palm cupping your face and traveling into your hair. Without letting yourself question it you moan an assent, hands at your sides, focusing on breathing through your nose.

“Sometimes I think about claiming you in the arena,” he says, one hand secured on the chain, the other clutching the back of your head as he presses in deeper. “Showing my people how breedable you are. But I’d kill anyone else who’d ever see you like this.”

You whimper around him, trying to swallow down, trying not to gag, feeling all the wetter for it even as tears prick up at the corners of your eyes and dampen the fabric of your blindfold.

He pulls out, giving you a few seconds to breathe before pushing back in, and he’s in so impossibly deep, down your throat, that you don’t understand how you’re even taking him, but everything feels as if it’s encased in mist. All you can feel is the marble under your knees, your husband’s hands stabilizing you, his cock so close to cutting off your airflow until it doesn’t, and he releases you again–this time for an even shorter reprieve. You whimper again around it, holding still as he rocks his hips.

“You’re getting so good at this, pet,” he says. “Such a smart girl, learning so quickly.” He stops moving his hips but holds your head still for a moment, as if he’s simply curious to see how long you can take the length and girth of his cock in your mouth and down your throat, how long you can push past the discomfort and keep him there. And then in one practiced movement unlatches the leash from your collar, letting the chain fall to the floor. His grip relaxes in your hair, his hold barely more than a touch. You could pull off if you want, you realize, but he said he wants to see how obedient you can be, so you keep your hands at your sides as you swallow around him, the tears collecting in your lashes as you try to breathe through your nose.

The next time Feyd applies pressure, it’s to pull you off of him. You’re not entirely sure how long you had him down your throat, but you can feel the string of saliva connected to his cock as you gasp for air, coughing and sputtering. Your head swims. Feyd swipes his thumb over your chin and lips, collecting the saliva that’s pooled around the sides of your mouth. You’d give anything to see the expression on his face right now, but you also don’t want to take the blindfold off, not until he says so or does it himself.

Without thinking you nudge your head forward, once you’ve regained your breath and you’re certain you can take more–you can take anything he gives you and you gasp as Feyd stops you, your breath close to the head of his cock, you’re certain, but not quite touching it.

Give it to me, Feyd. Please, I can handle it. I want to prove it to you . You say nothing; you wait.

For a moment the tip of his cock brushes against your cheek and you turn your head, lavishing your tongue along his frenulum, wrapping your lips around the tip of him. You moan, utterly shameless, to try and encourage him to push in deeper. He just stays that way for a moment, though, not thrusting in, not burying his head in your hair to push your mouth onto him, either. He simply lets you feel the weight of him on your tongue before he takes a step back, slipping out, and you wait, unmoving, for what comes next, wet and pliant and ready. It’s only the marble beneath your knees that grounds you.

And then without a word he takes off your blindfold and you blink against the sudden light before you realize Feyd’s staring at you with his pupils blown wide like last night, chest heaving and mouth open. He cups your chin in one hand, eyes darting across your face. Does he see in your eyes what he felt last night?

“Get back on all fours for me, pet,” he says.

For a moment you feel disoriented. Does he want you on all fours on the bed or…?

“Right here, pet,” he says, knowing what you’re about to ask before you can ask it. You can’t speak, can’t form coherent words as you lean forward and brace yourself on your forearms, breathing in, then out. His voice sounds almost like it’s coming from another room or inside your own head, you think as he kneels behind you.

He wordlessly slides his head along the line of your spine, applying only the faintest of pressure, guiding your top half down, down, until you rest your cheek against the floor, your forearms a cage bracketing your head, your ass raised up to expose it and your weeping cunt to him. The cool marble feels nice against your flushed cheek.

He trails his fingertips along your slit, getting all the verification that he could need of what this is doing to you.

“Greedy, eager thing, aren’t you?” he says softly, and you sense him gripping his cock in his fist to line up against you. You can’t help the giggle that spills out of you. You really are, aren’t you?

He finally pushes in and you arch your back into it, wanting to slide the rest of the way onto him but waiting, knowing that you’ll accept what he gives you because you can.

“ Oh ,” you manage when he bottoms out inside of you. He’s still for just a moment, and for that moment you wait in delicious anticipation before he starts thrusting.

He doesn’t hold back, grabs your hips, kneads your ass, knowing you’ll stay face-down because there’s nowhere else you’d rather be. You probably sound needy and pathetic, but you don’t care. There’s no one here but the two of you as he pulls you onto his cock again and again, taking you on the floor, the sound of skin slapping skin, his grunts as he changes his angle that hits your insides differently, dragging against a spot within you that has you seeing spots and stars instead of the vantage point you have of the bed only a couple of meters away. You open your mouth in a silent scream, hips jerking uselessly, stomach clenching.

Feyd, ever so clever, senses your shift immediately and bears down on you from this new angle that’s probably strenuous on him, from the way the muscles in his thighs clench and his grunts become harsher, but he keeps going, giving you everything he can, everything you can take. You want to touch yourself, bring a hand between your legs, but you’re not going to. Feyd will handle it or he won’t. You feel drunk even though you haven’t had anything that could get you drunk in over a week.

“You want to come, Y/N?” Feyd asks behind you, and you moan an assent. “You’re gonna have to use your words if you want me to make you come,” he says, tone on the verge of scolding, but still playful enough to keep it from stinging.

It takes a moment to form any coherent words, the four syllables laborious. “Yes, please, husband,” you manage, voice sounding wrecked, and Feyd obliges you as soon as you get the words out, bringing his fingertips to where the two of you are joined, collecting the slick there, and rubbing circles along your bud. You can’t help but buck your hips, your moans desperate.

“That’s it, pet,” he says, rubbing harder now, probably relishing the sounds you’re making as he brings you over. You nearly black out, tears streaming down your face, clenching again and again around him, coming so hard you think you might actually be drooling, and then when you think the most intense shockwave of it has passed, you feel his seed filling you up.

I feel so full, Feyd , you think, delirious.

You can hear him panting and grunting behind you as he pulls out part way, the last of his come landing hot and viscous on the small of your back. You gasp, feeling decidedly marked up, but you don’t move, waiting for what’s coming next.

Feyd pauses; you hear his breath even out, and from the shift behind you you’re pretty sure he’s settled back onto his haunches. It seems to take him a moment to decide what he wants to do with you next before he’s kneading the soft flesh of your ass. You sigh at the contact, arching your back, and feel your mouth pop open in a surprised “Oh!” as Feyd’s tongue makes contact with your lower back, licking up the remaining droplets of his spend in one long stroke.

And then it’s done, but you don’t move, and for a moment neither does Feyd, who you suppose must just be staring at you and the way you’re exposed to him in a way that you could almost recall being humiliating around the time of your wedding but feels titillating now.

After a minute Feyd starts to get up, but you stay where you are, still face-down, ass-up, presented to him as if he were to start again immediately. He might. You can handle it if he does, you’re certain. You have no idea how long you remain there, the side of your face pressed against the floor, your body weight on your elbows and knees. The combination of yours and Feyd’s fluids seeping out of you start to turn sticky, but you’re utterly calm. You feel weightless. Your breathing evens out.

“Sit back up for me, pet,” you hear as if Feyd was a thousand leagues away. You blink and start to rise up on your forearms, stretching like a cat, rising up to sit on your haunches.

Feyd comes back into view, taking your chin in his hand. You don’t know what he’s seeing in your eyes; perhaps what you saw last night in his. He drops his hand from your face and extends them both to you in a silent offer to help you stand.

Once he has you up, he tips you, a hand behind your back, and you hardly realize what’s happening before he has you in his arms, carrying you to bed. He sets you down gentler than you expect before pulling the covers over you and climbing in with you. Smart idea; you hadn’t realized how cold you suddenly feel, shivering as Feyd gets under the covers with you, braces himself above you, and leans down for a kiss.

You kiss him back immediately, suddenly desperate. Up until this moment you’d felt almost like you were floating on a string, and now that string's been cut and you’re crashing to the ground. You gasp into it, clutching his back. You dig your nails in, your breath ragged, and after a moment Feyd pulls away, eyes darting across the different points of your face.

“You’re shaking, Y/N,” he says.

Yes, you are. A fresh batch of tears comes and spills down your cheeks and you don’t know why. If you didn’t know any better, Feyd looks almost concerned, an expression you’ve never seen on his face before that takes you a moment to place. Has he never reacted this way before? Never been affected quite this way before?

“Can you please hold me?” you finally manage, and he complies wordlessly, shifting to lay on his back, wrapping his arms around you. You don’t know what’s wrong with you, why you’re crying. You’re not sad, not angry. Just spent in a way that you’ve never felt before.

After a few minutes your breathing evens out again. The solid wall of the man holding you and the steadiness of his heartbeat against your ear helps. Feyd senses it and reaches for your collar.

“Let me keep it on for now,” you say, and Feyd stills his hand. “Please.”

Feyd looks for a moment like he wants to ask why, but doesn’t, instead keeping an arm wrapped around you as you nestle against him. You can’t explain it; right now you feel kept, like you’re something precious.

“Better?” he asks after a moment.

You nod against his chest. “But I wasn’t feeling bad before,” you manage, speaking slowly and trying not to slur your words. You doubt you have it in you to do all this over again, even if he asks, even if he manages to get you floating again. “It was just overwhelming for a second.”

“I know,” he says, and when your grip on him relaxes he shifts, moving to sit up, and you furrow your brow, wanting to follow him, nervous at the idea of being alone in this bed.

“I’ll be back,” he says. “I’m not leaving this room, pet,” he says, getting up. You notice that this time on the side table the water pitcher has two glasses and he fills both.

He notices your hands are still shaking and lifts the glass to your lips himself, watching as you gulp half the water down first, then take small sips of the rest, not setting it back down on the nightstand until it’s finished.

“When I first met you I’d never have taken you for such an affectionate little thing,” he says before taking a sip from his own glass.

“Neither would I,” you tell him. “Definitely not with you.”

Feyd smirks at that above the lip of his glass before setting it down next to yours and settling back in with you.

“I’m going to take the collar off you now,” he says.

“Okay,” you manage, fading, tilting your head to give him a better angle as he unfastens your collar and sets it on his nightstand. Not that you want him to get up and leave you alone in bed again, but you’re a little surprised that he doesn’t immediately and meticulously set everything back in his armoire. He’s not the type to leave things until the following morning. But he’s doing it now; he turns off the light and quietly turns you around so he can pull your back to his chest and slide one muscled thigh between your own.

You’re not sure what the name is for what you’re feeling, the way he shifts and wraps an arm around you and nuzzles his face into your hair. It’s a sinking feeling rather than the floating feeling you had earlier, but nice all the same. You start to drift off, the feeling of his heartbeat against your back, his breath slowing down, and just before you fall asleep you remember the word you’re looking for.

Peaceful .

The next morning you don’t wake up until you feel the absence of a solid form behind you and sit up to notice Feyd almost-fully dressed, putting on his boots.

He gives you a small smile when he senses you watching him.

“Excited for tonight?” you ask him.

Feyd’s smile fades as he stands. “It’s an obligation like the rest. We’ll make a good appearance for the guests, Uncle will get the confirmation he needs, and we can plan for tomorrow.”

“So is that a no?” you ask, sitting up against the headboard.

“I obey the Bene Gesserit’s instructions. I don't have to like them,” he says, voice flat.

You look down. He’s implied it before; you’d assume it’s because the Bene Gesserit tend to make powerful men nervous but there’s likely more to it.

His mother was Bene Gesserit. You’re not about to ask if she treated him like a son or a cog in her Sisterhood’s larger plans. Not this morning, perhaps not ever, you think as he watch him leave.

The entire Fortress is bustling, preparing for incoming visitors; not just the Bene Gesserit but Harkonnens living off-planet in colonies and fiefdoms as well as a few guests from other Houses. Your family will not be among them, but they’ve sent a gift–casks of some of your planet’s finest liquor, apparently.

Not that you blame them for not wanting to come to Geidi Prime, but it would be nice to see them, especially when you can feel the mounting pressure on you like a valve you wish you could release.

It’s both too soon and later than you realize when you have to change into a different dress that’s thankfully more modest than your gown for tomorrow, complete with long black gloves and a lace cloak meant to evoke the often-veiled and hooded style of the women you’ll be greeting.

Itkonen will be the first Harkonnen official to greet the Bene Gesserit after they receive their medication to help with the atmosphere, at which point you and Feyd will accept them and act as intermediaries before bringing them to the Baron. The Baron’s also reminded you and Feyd that they’ll examine you to make sure that you’ve secured an heir for the Harkonnen line, as if either of you could forget. As if that’s not the entire reason the two of you even met.

The anticipation builds as you and Feyd wait in the Reception Hall, you on his left and half a step behind him in deference. In front of both guests and other Harkonnens, you call Feyd exclusively by his title, because as far as Harkonnen politics are concerned, you may be his wife, but you are not his partner. You are his subject, and as such you will keep up the appearance of being his doting subject, his broodmare, his doll that dresses and presents herself as he chooses. You’ll live with it, and some part of you might even want to smirk at how the people won’t be privy to what you and him have developed. They won’t see how you’ve fucked him into an incoherent state, how worshipfully he licks your cunt, or how he likes holding you against his chest at night when you fall asleep, but the two of you will know better.

You’re also reasonably certain that these women, certainly the Reverend Mother Mohiam, will know better as well.

Itkonen steps in, inclines his head, and announces your Bene Gesserit guests. His dark eyes slide towards them as they enter, a hint of a derisive smirk on his thin lips that only you and Feyd see as he glances back at him. Duplicitous whores, the lot of them, aren’t they, boss? his eyes suggest.

All the women are veiled, most with their faces hidden. You incline your head in a slow, respectful curtsy. This is what you’ve been training for your entire life. You were made for this, you remind yourself as you then lift your head with a polite smile.

You only recognize the Reverend Mother Mohiam, but there’s another just behind her, one who’s quite beautiful with almost cat-like eyes and high cheekbones. You noticed her, though, not because she’s beautiful but because you could sense Feyd-Rautha just barely stiffen for a moment beside you as they entered the room, and when you glanced over at him saw a glimmer in his eyes that suggested uncomfortable recognition. If you hadn’t been so close to him you wouldn’t have noticed but it’s unmistakable.

They’ve met before , you realize, even as they don’t exchange a word of conversation and the woman doesn’t spare him so much as a second glance, her gaze on you.

Feyd seems to recover almost immediately as he greets the Reverend Mother. “We offer our fondest welcome to your Reverence and your Sisters on behalf of the Baron and Geidi Prime, and gratitude for making the trip here for the occasion.”

Reverend Mother Mohiam looks both unsurprised and unimpressed that the Baron himself couldn’t be bothered to get up from his throne but accepts the greeting with the same dignified coldness she’d shown you back on your planet. She looks over at you, taking inventory of your still-intact hair and eyebrows, and looks back at Feyd. “We appreciate your hospitality, Na-Baron Harkonnen,” she says.

You’d almost forgotten that Feyd does a decent job despite having a menacing presence at playing the part of statesman and representative. Not that he was ever quite able to fool you into thinking that he’s harmless–and he certainly doesn’t fool them–but he manages to keep the small-talk polite without being insipid as the two of them lead the conversation towards the Baron’s throne room.

The Baron stays seated in his suspensor chair, which whirrs forward as he nods his head in acknowledgement. “Welcome to Geidi Prime, your Reverence,” he says. “We do hope you and your Sisters enjoy the festivities during your stay. My gentle niece-in-law will be especially accommodating. She’ll be relieved for female companionship.”

Much as it makes you want to grind your teeth and glare at him to speak as though you aren’t there, he’s right about that. How he’d even know, you’re not sure. He’s certainly not asked you.

“Our services will take only a minute, but we appreciate the invitation to enjoy Feyd-Rautha’s birthday,” the Reverend Mother tells him.

“Forgive me for not knowing the exact details,” the Baron says, “but what process do you use to determine if young Y/N has secured the Harkonnen bloodline?”

“Nothing invasive, Baron,” the Reverend Mother replies. “Just a private meeting.”

“Well, then, you certainly have your opportunity now,” the Baron says, gesturing loosely towards you. “The people of Geidi Prime will be happy to know that my nephew has continued the Harkonnen bloodline.” He looks at Reverend Mother Mohiam expectantly, as if to say, alright, let’s get it over with. Show me if my nephew knocked up this Y/H whore or not .

She holds his gaze. “We’ll conduct the test privately, absent of any men,” she says.

The Baron blinks and looks at her as if to say, Are you dismissing me? Have you lost your mind? You can’t possibly expect me to wait outside , before beckoning a servant over.

“Show the Na-Baroness and our Bene Gesserit visitors to the next room, on the left. It should more than suffice for their needs,” he tells her.

It is; a sort of lounge area that tomorrow will be teeming with guests, you notice as you trail in. There are ample seating areas, tables that can and will hold down trays of food and drink. The lighting is even somewhat hospitable.

“May I ask,” you start as you’ve all filed in, “how you’ll be conducting the investigation, your Reverence?”

The Reverend Mother looks at you. “You seem healthy,” she says. She means, Feyd-Rautha’s been civil towards you?

“Thank you, your Reverence,” you tell her. “Geidi Prime requires an adjustment period, but I believe I've been able to find some decent footing here.”

The Reverend Mother looks a moment longer at you before speaking. “Have you met Lady Margot Fenring before?” she asks, extending her arm to the woman you couldn’t help but notice earlier.

“We have not met officially, your Reverence,” you say, looking over at her. Fenring . She must be the wife of Count Hasimir Fenring, then, even if she looks like she must be a good thirty years younger than him.

“Lady Fenring here is expecting as well, Na-Baroness Y/N,” the Reverend Mother says. “She has a certain talent for detecting pregnancy in other women before doctors even can.”

You glance at Lady Fenring’s stomach and don’t see a bump–a still-recent development, then. She sees where your gaze drops and explains, “I’m only two months along,” she tells you. “A daughter.”

“Congratulations, Lady Fenring,” you tell her, cautious, wishing you knew more about Bene Gesserit customs. Nothing invasive, they said, watching as Lady Fenring delicately pulls off the glove of her right hand and reaches for your stomach.

You take a small step back before you realize it, and Lady Fenring gives a coquettish little smile.

“ Don’t be afraid ,” she tells you, her voice pleasant and melodic, and she slowly places her ungloved hand on your lower abdomen. For a moment, your heart slows down, your limbs feeling heavy, and you’re not entirely sure if her words were spoken aloud or if you thought of them yourself.

The woman closes her eyes and you can’t help but stare, vulnerable at her gentle touch but unable to move. You feel lost, reminded of the early morning fog on your planet, before the sun starts rising. You close your eyes as well to try and snap out of it, but the same murky feeling persists where fear and dread had been.

Did she just…did she just use the Voice on me?

That can’t be right. The Voice is forceful, commanding, or so you’ve heard. Margot Fenring is anything but. You breathe in, breathe out, and wait, until she speaks again.

“Congratulations, Na-Baroness Y/N. Your union has proven fruitful.”

You open your eyes and gasp, unable to tame your reaction before it comes, unable to stop your smile and breathless, “ Really? ” You suddenly feel sharper, everything brighter, as Lady Fenring removes her hand and you move yours to where it had been.

“The life growing within you is new, the seed still very small, but it’s there, and it’s growing,” she tells you.

You can’t help but laugh a little, bringing a hand to cover your mouth as you do. You did it . How long has it been forming? A week? Two? Three? Is it smaller than an apple seed? Can this woman tell if it’s a boy like Feyd claims he dreamt of?

And then you think about the other man waiting for the news outside, probably more impatient for the results than your husband. Your smile fades and you drop both hands to your sides.

“Thank you, Lady Fenring,” you tell her. “The Na-Baron will be pleased.”

You need to help me keep the Baron away from it, keep him from c orrupting it. If you’re anywhere near as invested in keeping it safe as I am then …

This is why they’re here, you remind yourself. They need you and your progeny to be healthy. They’ll look after you.

You emerge with the Bene Gesserit sisters trailing behind you.

“We bear good news,” the Reverend Mother says. “The Na-Baroness is with child.”

Funny thing is that before all of this, before you thought you'd get married to a Harkonnen, you'd never had any expectations about how the moment would happen, when you would find out you were pregnant for the first time and told your husband. It hadn't been a situation you'd ever really entertained even as it was always inevitable. And yet this feels disappointing, not even being able to say it yourself, and having the news shared in front of your vile uncle-in-law as you try to seem demurely pleased and nothing else. You try not to make direct eye contact with Feyd. This isn't for either of you as individuals. It's for the Harkonnen bloodline, for the Baron, for the Bene Gesserit and their selective breeding program. So when it stings a little that Feyd 's only response is a nod in your direction as if to say, Well, done, you feel silly for it.

The Baron says, “We’ll wait until after Feyd’s birthday celebration to make the announcement; we don’t want to overshadow his match. Still,” he glances at you, “the people of Geidi Prime will be delighted to know that he’s continued the Harkonnen line.”

You lower your head. He truly has a gift for being able to suck the joy out of any celebration. The baby growing in your womb will have to share space with the gnawing twin feelings of disgust and dread settling in your stomach.

After that, though, the Baron makes it abundantly clear that his main purpose for inviting these women has been accomplished and foists the responsibilities of entertaining all but the Reverend Mother onto you.

“Mohiam will speak with you tomorrow, young Y/N,” he says to you. “But in the meantime, I’m sure there’s lots for you to discuss with our other distinguished guests.”

You curtsy and assure him that you’ll be an exemplary hostess in your most deferential tone before you and the other women are escorted back into the room you’d just been in; servants have already begun laying out plates of foods, various delicacies representing different Houses, goblets with pitchers of water, juices, and wine.

The veiled women wait until the food and drinks are set out and all the male servants have gone before they show their faces, lifting their veils to take the first sips and bites. Their ages range from possibly even younger than you to their seventies, all quiet at first.

Lady Fenring ranks above the rest of them both in title and within their ranks, it seems, as they defer to her and she’s the one who initiates conversation with you.

“It appears you’re adjusting well to Geidi Prime,” she says.

“Thank you, Lady Fenring,” you tell her. “It was an unfamiliar environment to which to adapt, but the Fortress has been accommodating.”

“We’re in casual company now, do feel free to call me Margot,” she tells you, and you blame it on the fact that you haven’t gotten to talk to any of your friends in over a month that you smile, feeling warmth flood your chest.

“Then feel free to call me Y/N,” you tell her.

“I was curious about your hair,” one of the Sisters says. “The fact that you still have it–was it your decision or your husband’s?”

“The Na-Baron informed me shortly before the wedding that I could keep my hair. It’s my preference as well, but I would’ve made a concession if it had been required,” you tell her. He only allowed the hair I have growing out of my head, though, you don’t add.

“About the hairlessness–is it a personal choice or are Harkonnens simply incapable of growing any?” she asks.

“They are while living here,” you tell her, knowing that everyone’s listening. “Geidi Prime’s bustling with industry but not organic life. I’ve heard that it’s only possible for Harkonnens to start growing hair if they live off-planet for long enough.”

“It is indeed,” Margot says. “The late Abulurd Rabban had not only a full head of hair but a beard when he died, but at that point he’d been living on Lankiveil for over twenty-five years. Have you ever seen a picture of him?”

“I have not,” you tell her. “His memory isn’t widely celebrated here, for obvious reasons.” You’ve never seen a picture of either of Feyd’s parents, but you’ve wondered what arrangement of features they each had that they could have produced such different-looking brothers as him and Rabban.

She looks at you a moment longer, as if contemplating what next line of questions she has for you.

“I’ve done a bit of research,” you say first. “The Harkonnens are of course better known for commerce and warfare but the library they have in the Fortress is very impressive.” You wonder how transparently you’re trying to play ambassador. You wonder how much it’s working.

When you all conclude your meal, and once all the plates are cleared, the other Sisters find conversation with each other, leaving you and Margot alone, and the thought gently scratching at the back of your mind becomes clearer; this friendly conversation is a soft interrogation. Margot will relay everything, your words and the tone with which you speak them, back to the Reverend Mother. Whether or not she is actually interested in your opinions is entirely beside the point, but even with this she certainly makes you feel that way. Her body language is demure but inviting, her questions polite but never overtly invasive as she asks you about your upbringing and your hobbies, how you spend time on your new planet.

You’ve never met someone who seems both serene and somehow unsettling in a way you cannot articulate but feels tangible. She has a certain poise you realize the longer the two of you sit in the same vicinity, that you just haven’t matured into yet. She’s older than you and Feyd, more complete than either of you.

She tilts her head at you at one point and says, “Forgive my questioning, but had you ever been courted or had an intimate relationship before your marriage?”

“A brief-lived courtship,” you tell her. “Nothing substantial ever came of it nor did I expect it to; neither of us had high hopes that my father would approve of him as a potential husband, and I suppose I’ve always been too practical to entertain the concept of a love-match.”

Margot blinks slowly, and her next words are as diplomatic and polite as anyone can manage with the subject you realize she’s about to breach. “I ask only because I’m sure you’ve heard some discouraging, perhaps intimidating rumors about Harkonnen men?”

Ah . There it is .

“I have,” you tell her. “But I’ve also heard for years about how the best way to temper a man is through catering to his desires,” you tell her. “Even without any substantial prior experience it didn’t take long to understand what my husband wanted and how to provide it for him.”

You don’t need to delve any deeper. She’s both Bene Gesserit and married; she’s known this for years before you did.

But there’s a part of you that wants her to know that you’re more observant than people may realize. There’s an even greater part of you that wants to know what caused Feyd to nearly flinch when he saw her when you’d never seen such a reaction from him before.

“May I ask how you first met the Na-Baron?” you ask, trying to keep your voice a mask of politeness and casual indifference.

She doesn’t look surprised at your question, which unnerves you further. “I was assigned to test him,” she says.

“On what?” you ask, fairly certain you know the answer.

“Whether or not he could play into our larger plans. What I found was interesting. Despite being a man with no Bene Gesserit training he possessed a level of prescience I’ve seen only in my Sisters.”

He dreamt about our son . You try not to let your nerves show.

“And then there was his pain tolerance,” she adds, cat-like eyes on you.

You keep a straight face as you wonder how she’d be familiar with it. Has she bitten him? Flogged him?

She keeps you waiting for only a second before continuing. “Have you heard of the Gom Jabbar?” she asks.

“I think so?” You weren’t sure if it was a real thing or a myth concocted to instill fear of disobeying the Bene Gesserit, but you’ve heard of a test meant to bring whoever takes it to the extremes of pain, and that many of those subjected to such a test did not live to pass it.

“He not only passed, but he lasted longer than anyone I’ve ever tested.” She meets your gaze as she says, “I’ve never seen anyone react to it quite like he did. He didn’t just endure it; he enjoyed it.”

Oh . Well, that would explain how they know each other, you think, trying to parse your own jumbled thoughts. That’s probably all she did; she has a husband, after all, and she was testing Feyd to see if he’d be a good match for you , not herself.

But despite yourself you imagine her riding him with slow, deliberate movements rather than the grinding, bouncing desperation that you had doing the same thing two nights ago. The image makes you inhale and glance away as you try to shake it from your mind.

Weeks ago the thought of him satiating himself with someone else would’ve been a relief. Now a shameful ball of jealousy blooms in your chest, and she can sense it. The Bene Gesserit aren’t truly omniscient, you know this, but she seems almost close to it. It’s embarrassing how transparent and vulnerable she makes you feel, like a child trying to keep pace with an adult who’s skilled at a game you’re still learning.

For her part she seems politely amused when you look away, feeling yourself flush. You won’t ask if she saw him in the arena and took to his bed. You don’t want to know if she indulged him in some of his darker fantasies or if she was able to coax him into a submissive state that took you a month to discover.

Focus on what she just told you, you remind yourself.

“You've seen it in him,” she says. It's not a question. Not from her, in any case, but the Reverend Mother will want to know, and it takes only a couple of seconds to cave.

“I have. Both his masochism and his prescience,” you admit. You won’t share any specific details, though; it’s too intimate to share with this woman, even as it feels as though she’s seeing you naked, like she can extrapolate your most personal moments with Feyd from a single glance.

Margot smiles. “Her Reverence will be most impressed with you.”

The evening concludes when it seems as though the Baron’s meeting with the Reverend Mother has, and servants come in to escort the Bene Gesserit to the guest suites.

As you all emerge you see Feyd, stone-faced, glancing between you and Margot as he notices the two of you walking alongside one another. You look over at her, who curtsies towards you.

“It was a pleasure speaking with you, Na-Baroness,” she says, undoubtedly aware of the attention the two of you are getting.

“You as well, Lady Fenring,” you tell her as you incline your head.

Feyd barely manages a curt nod in her direction before turning away, presenting his arm for you to take as you head back to the private residence wing.

You don’t say it; if you say it you won’t be able to take it back, feign ignorance. You don’t say a word on the walk back, and for a solid few minutes, neither does Feyd. He offers no recourse, and doesn't tell you what he, his uncle, the Reverend Mother, and Itkonen were all discussing over dinner and beyond it. His silence lasts just long enough to set you on edge, make you wonder if he’s upset about something.

“You did well tonight,” he finally says, as the two of you reach your quarters. “Uncle doesn’t care to entertain female company,” he adds, the closest thing to innuendo he’s suggested when it comes to the Baron, “so while he won’t say it, he was relieved to push them onto you.”

You smile. “Diplomacy is what I’ve been training for since I was a child,” you tell him. “I wasn’t prepared for the intimate parts of marriage, but I trained for the politics of it for most of my life.” Marriage is politics for a woman in my position . “Although I’d like to think I’m getting reasonably good at the intimate parts as well,” you say, leaning in, looking up at him as if to ask, Your room or mine tonight? You start to wrap your arms around his shoulders, thinking about how you’ll get to sleep more easily if he’s there, nestled behind you like he usually is.

Feyd doesn’t move, instead staying where he is, rigid and unyielding. “Not tonight,” he says.

You’re confused at first, pulling back, certain you misheard, but he’s completely serious. Hadn’t he talked about wanting to spill his seed in more places than just inside of you? How he’d wanted to continue fucking you even after confirmation of your pregnancy?

You drop your arms and take a step back. Did seeing Margot Fenring put him off? Is she the type of woman he’d prefer? Not a Bene Gesserit, he’s said as much, but a woman with more effortless poise? Or does he intend to find someone else tonight now that he doesn’t need to take you?

“I understand,” you say, trying not to let your hurt and indignation show. “We’ve done what was necessary to secure an heir and now there’s no need.” Not for another year at least .

Feyd looks amused for a moment, taking in your disappointment that he’s not going to bury himself inside of you like usual. It is sort of funny, in a sense. Weeks ago you would never have anticipated wanting his touch and feeling disappointed at not getting it.

“I abstain from indulging any kind of carnal desires the night before arena matches,” he says. “With others or with myself.”

Why? you want to ask, pretty sure the answer lies in something along the lines of discipline or wanting to save pent-up energy to put on a show for his audience.

“I’m pregnant ,” you say instead, more to yourself than to him. It’s almost incredible how shocked you are that the realistic outcome to the past month is finally here. Like being surprised that a seed you’ve planted and watered every day is starting to sprout.

His almost-smile turns as close to soft as you’ve ever seen on him. “How ‘bout that?” he says quietly, pressing the palm of his hand to your stomach. His touch is gentle, his eyes drifting to where his hand rests. For a moment you don’t think you’ve ever felt closer to him. For a moment you’re not concerned with politics, with the Baron, with your future, and you can insulate the two of you inside the warmth you feel blooming in your chest.

“Can I kiss you, at least?” you ask. He looks at you and nods, and you take your opportunity, cradling the side of his face and wrapping your other arm around his shoulder as you pull him to you.

He breaks the kiss first, but still rests his forehead against yours, his hands on your waist. You can’t resist giving him one last peck on the lips, needing to pull away because otherwise you’re going to keep holding on.

“Good night, husband,” you tell him, your voice thicker than you realized, feeling a rush within you.

You finally have allies here; you’ll be able to talk to the Reverend Mother, devise the best way to keep the Baron away from your children so that what happened to Feyd will never happen again.

You will find a way.

You wake up in the morning feeling resolute. It’s not the same quiet dread that you had on your wedding night, but the tension in the air still feels thick.

You won’t be seeing Feyd until it’s time to adorn him with war paint; you will dine separately, prepare separately, and once you have finished painting his body will sit in the stands waiting for his not-match. After that the people of Geidi Prime will shower him with their praise and adoration and the entire Fortress will celebrate the Na-Baron’s birthday. You’re not likely to have any real privacy with him today, certainly not until bedtime and even then you imagine it’s going to be a late night of entertaining well-wishers and keeping up appearances.

Your food is brought to your quarters, and you find you don’t have much of an appetite, between the snug fit of your dress’s bodice and the thudding feeling that starts in your ribcage and spreads downwards. Not just Idrisa but another attendant helps prepare you to look as anointed and pristine as you were on your wedding day.

You wear your hair down, save for two braids starting at your temple and connecting at the back of your head. It’s not defiance against the Harkonnens; they surely know that you look precisely how the Na-Baron wants you to.

Lips painted black aren’t any less common here than teeth dyed the same color, you think as you apply your cosmetics. In fact, when you apply it, you think about how your mouth resembles an inverse of your husband’s.

Your husband .

Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen is beloved by his own people, feared and despised by others. He’s a force of violence, a killer and stone-cold executioner. He’s a sadomasochist who comes from the most dysfunctional family you’ve ever seen and is set to lead the most bloodthirsty population in Landsraad. He’s also known you with such tangible intimacy that it’s sometimes overwhelming. He’s brought you to heights of pleasure you hadn’t thought possible. He’s the man whose child you’re carrying in your womb at this very moment, even if the whole of Geidi Prime doesn’t know yet.

You are going to go out and watch the arena match as the Na-Baroness, and as the bridge between his world and the rest of Landsraad, both of and separate from the Harkonnens.

You keep your head held high, the quiet clicking of your heels against the floor the only sound you make as you and Idrisa head for the chambers where your husband’s preparing to make his appearance.

At the entrance is another girl whose name you don’t know, and they flank you down a flight of stairs you’ve traversed only once, and two a set of double-doors guarded by two men in white who bow their heads, eyes downcast before opening the doors for you.

On the other side of the room a pair of young women wait, one of them holding a bowl and the other a pair of translucent gloves.

And there’s the man himself, stripped to ceremonial loincloth, watching you enter. His gaze sweeps up and down the length of your body, taking in the sight of your long, unadorned hair, painted-black lips, and every feature your gown shows off to almost exaggerated effect.

You stop for a moment and incline your head. “Happy birthday, Na-Baron,” you tell him.

“Come to give me my gift, then?” he asks, and a month ago you’d have thought his tone cold and mocking. Now it sounds as close to playful as he’s willing to get with other people present, especially as he’s still staring at you.

“Yes, Na-Baron,” you tell him, and glance to the side, at the raised platform jutting out of the wall. His Darlings are all curled up in a pile, lazily but contentedly watching the two of you. They’re wearing clothes this time, matching outfits.

“You dressed them for the occasion?” you ask Feyd.

“I had servants sedate, bathe, and dress them, but yes,” he says.

One has a stripe painted on her forehead; she seems to be the leader of the pack, moving first and the other two deferring to her, and she leans over as far as she can manage, nuzzling against your side

You inhale sharply, picturing her not for the first time taking a bite out of your lower abdomen with those black fangs.

Feyd can sense it. “They won’t hurt you,” he says. “They like you.”

I wish I could say the same about them , you think as she purrs–another feature no doubt installed by the Bene Tleilax.

“Do they smell it?” you ask. The baby?

“It wouldn’t surprise me if they did,” Feyd says,

I won’t allow them near the baby when it’s born , is a conversation for another place and time, when there aren’t other people around and you don’t have an imminent task. The girl holding the bowl steps forward, head bowed, to remind you why you’re here.

“Let’s prepare you, then,” you say, and Feyd gives you a small smile before turning his back to you.

Maybe when he first told you to paint him, he thought it would demean you, but it doesn’t. You doubt he feels that way anymore, either. He rolls his shoulders back briefly, and you watch the taut muscles ripple under his pale skin.

I was terrified of you the first time I saw you like this, you don’t tell him as you press your fingertips against him, but even then I thought you were impressive to look at. Maybe not a traditionally handsome man as far as I was concerned, but I liked seeing you in a loincloth back then, too.

One of the girls holds the bowl for you, and the other gives you a pair of gloves to keep you from staining your hands. You looked up the design–they change depending on the occasion and a birthday or other holiday requires its own set of strokes.

“Is this correct?” you ask, feeling pretty certain that it is.

“Yes, that’s right, Na-Baroness,” the girl holding the bowl says softly, hardly more than a whisper.

“Very good, Na-Baroness,” echoes the girl just beside her, waiting to take your gloves off for you once you’re finished.

Feyd’s silent as you work, turning his head briefly and giving you a view of his profile as he glances over his shoulder at you as if to speak, but ultimately remaining silent. You don’t have much to say, either, nothing that you want an audience for.

He’s going to kill people today; you assume prisoners of war, former soldiers who would put up a tough fight if the playing field were even. Instead they’ll be drugged before meeting your husband, their ruthless and efficient executioner. It’s not fair, it’s not good. It’s not something you can call yourself proud to be associated with, but it’s him. And you’re a part of his life, his legacy. A knot forms under your ribs as you finish with his back and focus on his chest and stomach. Does he share the combination of power and vulnerability you feel now, as he stays still for you to adorn his body with ceremonial paint? Is he looking forward to cutting down total strangers in front of thousands of cheering people? Because for all the discussion in the Fortress for it, Feyd seems less excited for it than everyone surrounding him. Does he quietly long for the thrill of a real fight? A challenge amongst everyone catering to his every desire?

You finish painting him and take a step back, allowing the girl next to you to pull your gloves off before she and her partner scurry to the side. For a moment it feels like there’s no one else in the room, and you think as you look at Feyd in his loincloth and ceremonial paint that he’s devastatingly beautiful.

“Thank you, Na-Baron,” you tell him.

His eyes look dark in these halls; it’s tough to find the blue of them. “For making me a part of this,” you add. “A part of your culture.”

He stares at you for a moment, expression inscrutable, before snapping the fingers of his right hand. Idrisa and the other girl hurry forward, hands clasped in front of them and eyes downcast.

He still looks at you. “Uncle will sit in his usual spot, that's his alone. He’ll have you sit in the private box with the Bene Gesserit Sisters. It’s a gesture meant to insult you, but don’t take the bait. Just keep being hospitable to our guests.”

“Yes, Na-Baron,” you say.

A figure enters; a fat man carrying a cushion laden with knives–the swordmaster. Feyd’s eyes flicker briefly towards him before turning back to you, and he gives a small nod. Dismissed .

For a moment you’re not entirely sure what to say. Good luck? It would be insulting to imply that he needs it. I can hardly wait? He knows that’s not true. In the end you say nothing, opting to curtsy before leaving, taking the same steps you’ve taken once before, ready to play your part as he plays his.

The slaughter awaits.

Tagged: @alexandrainlove @richardslady121 @blazeflays @wo-ming-bai @cavillandevanssandwhich

Also please lmk if you'd like to be tagged!

Our supporting players for this chapter:

#feyd rautha #feyd rautha harkonnen #feyd x reader #feyd x you #dune part two #feyd rautha smut #feyd smut #feyd rautha x reader #dune #dune 2

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autisticempathydaemon · 2 years ago

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Hello! Are you hyperfixated on RedactedAudio?

Do you want (need) to know who to follow to cultivate your dashboard and feed your gremlin brain good, good boyfriend roleplay content?

Cool, I’ve got you, and I’ve got hyperlinks. Buckle up.

(Note: This is by no means a comprehensive, objective, or complete list. I've only been in the fandom for six months or so. I have biases and favorites and limited time. I hope to update this list periodically, and if you feel I've missed someone, please feel free to reblog with your additions! I just would have loved a guide like this when I got into the fandom back in August and wanted to spread some positivity~!)

Fanfiction:

@angelnoodlesoup: she/her

Sophie is just one of the sweetest David stans that's ever existed who writes, like, the sweetest things about him. Her posts are just going to make you feel warm, fluffy, soft things in your heart area; give into the sweetness. Highlights: Sophie writes this adorable timestamp series of vignettes exploring Davey and Angel's day, but I'm particularly attacked to their David/Angel neighbors to lovers AU~

@arrowfleur

I was actually going to put Max in the visual content portion of this post, because they post delightful Redacted edits on Tiktok (under the same username, highly recommend~), but then they made a uquiz that gave me an existential crisis, so here we are. Highlights: This quiz sent my whole server for a loop and has made me reconsider my relationship with Lovely as a character and kin; it's a great time.

@batch-of-pengwings: robin/bird, she/her

Robin, an absolute sweetheart who makes all the fun ask games that keep the community interconnected and thinking and talking which is just really sweet and fun in the best way. Highlights: The Winter Wonderland game is the one who went around most recently, and it’s so fun to engage with the fandom and discuss who we think is stupid enough to get their tongues stuck on a telephone poll~

@bicyclepainting: they/them

Clover, the fandom's resident Smartass, doing the lord's work and reminding us all how fucking smoochable Aaron is on a regular basis on top of being the coolest astrology nerd don't give them your birth chart you will be perceived /lh Highlights: No one is doing Aaron/Smartass like they are; like, read and absorb the delicious, domestic delight that is them. I also recommend their deep dives into the Redacted bois signs, if you're into that; they're very thorough and fun to read!

@cashandprizes: she/they

My Lexi, my queerplatonic soulmate… She is on a quest to dissect and critique fandom brick by philosophical brick, and I both love her and fear her in equal measure. (That’s a lie, I love her infinitely, more than anything, but she is in fact incredibly intelligent and intimidating.) Highlights: Come for the scathing insights into gray-morality and DD:DNE’s place in fiction, stay for the stripper!Gavin fic they’re working on and their sequel to Lasko’s SexTember audio because she really wanted to make him cry

@ejunkiet: she/her

EJ, the very first of my Redacted loves~ Not only is EJ an endless well of kindness and positivity, but she also writes fucking bomb ass everything. You get angst, you get smut, you get fluff- We stan a multitalented, ace queen. (She also writes really cute CastleAudios fanfiction and original stuff as a cherry on top.) Highlights: EJ writes just some of my favorite David/Angel smut; she captures Angel's little shit nature perfectly. She's also written the sweetest thing of Damien meeting Huxley's moms that I can't get enough of~

@dominimoonbeam: she/her

Domini, truly one of the pillars of the fandom. I don't know what'd we'd be without her fantastic fics or her original novellas or her fantastic, beautiful, rarepair-creating brain. Highlights: God, there's too many to choose from! There's the Sam/Darlin fake dating AU that has us all gripped by the proverbial balls. There's the David/Darlin tattoo shop AU that has me frothing at the mouth because tattoo artists are stinkin hot. That's not even getting into their Cam/William fic, because god, that is such a good rarepair. We love two immortals finding love with one another, we really do. My personal favorite has got to be their Huxley/Darlin piece though, because Darlin gets to be cute and awkward and so, so loved in it.

@frenchiefitzhere: she/her

Frenchie, the fandom's unofficial (but basically official) Marie Greer, not only a gorgeous writer but also the creator of the most fantastical and unique fansongs (who makes original audio content to boot~) Highlights: We would be nowhere as a fandom without the Marie/Colm greer backstory and saga or her audios as the Greer Matriarch herself, but personally? Her Imperium!Lasko/Adam fic kind of changed my life, I'm kind of obsessed with it.

@friendlyfaded: he/him

Miles, the king and professor of the rarepairs! Beware, you will leave his blog wishing for fics for a ship that doesn’t actually exist yet. It’s unavoidable when you read the careful, creative, thoughtful way he considers seemingly silly pairings and makes them gorgeous. Highlights: I recommend his whole rarepairs with prof tag for a snack and his Sweetheart/Lasko/Milo fic for a whole meal~

@gingerbreadmonsters: she/her

Ginger, literally one of the sweetest, friendliest people in the entire Internet. I cannot adequately describe the absolute magnificent poetry of Ginger's prose, so you just have to read it for yourself. You will not be disappointed. Highlights: Ginger's Milo/Sweetheart series is for if you're feeling sweet, and her Vincent/Lovely/Gavin/Freelancer foursome fic is if you're feeling spicy~ Or if you're like me and are longing for an character we'll never see again, you can read her gorgeous, Doctor Who-inspired look in Marcus's mind.

@glassbearclock: she/her

Beans, also known as the best Milo/Sweetheart writer in the game. Their banter is taken from the mouth of god and first name Erik last name Redacted himself, and you could not convince me otherwise. Highlights: I’m a big fan of her sweet, wholesome, Jewish!Milo sick fic, but aYO her Milo/Sweetheart first date fic is so good y’all like goddamn Sweetheart phases through their door and makes Milo faceplant it on accident man that shit is so good

@horrorscoupes: they/he

My beautiful, darling Lotus, my gloriously deranged brother in arms (affectionate). The way they write each and every d(a)emons is just so -chef kiss-. Highlights: I think about their Regulus/Doll fic, like, literally every day, it's just yummy and depraved. Though, for a true taste of genius, for a galaxy brain treat, you've got to read his Shark!Vega/Pet masterpiece.

@k9rage: he/xi

My beloved Calico, our helpful Image Description fairy. He is just so cool and writes the most glorious smut like the world has ever seen. As of publishing, he's writing a Vega/Lasko street racing AU that's gonna be just smoke ash cinder fire hot. Highlights: You need to read his Damien/Gavin waxplay fic; like, this changed my life, I think about it daily. Ooh, AND his Aaron/SmartAss/Gavin threesome fic, because he didn't do all that thinking and imagining for us to not appreciate it. I'm also reccing @calicostorms, his other blog and spotify, so you can get at his stellar Redacted character playlists!

@lovelylonerliterature:

Lovely, absolute stand-out writer in the fandom! Would you believe they have a whole (as of posting) 95 works for the RedactedASMR fandom on AO3? There’s <2000 fics, which makes Lovely a whole five percent of the fanfiction on their own. That’s wild and so hella cool. Highlights: Literally everything they write. Explore their extremely well done masterlist, it’s beautifully put together, and you’ll find something you love. (I’m particularly fond of the Darlin/Vega fic they wrote based off of one of FriendlyFaded’s posts~)

@romirola: she/her

Dr. Romi, the one and the only and one of the legitimate sweetest goddamn people that has ever existed. You've never met a more polite, darling person in all your days. How did she write all these thousands of words of art while getting a doctorate? God, I wish I knew... if only we could also be so beautiful and wonderful and accomplished. Highlights: You haven't existed until you've read her Milo/Sweetheart Tangled AU; like, what are you doing here? GO. (I also deeply recommend her found family Shaw Pack + Sam fic, if you're looking for something that's still ongoing!)

@sealriously-sealrious: they/them

Chrys who writes- no contest I think we can all agree- the best Huxley that this fandom has ever seen. He is just so well-explored and so multifaceted, just the top-tier himbo content we all need and deserve. Highlights: Huxley and Freelancer at the aquarium, Huxley and Freelancer going camping, sfw, nsfw, whatever you want, we've GOT. (There's even some imperium!Huxley, if you're so inclined >:))

@starlitangels: she/her

Starlit, another absolute powerhouse of the fandom. Just look at this masterlist, I think there’s something here for literally every character. That’s what babes call RANGE. Highlights: The way they explore the Shaw pack is so fun; I’d highly recommend her fic exploring Gabe and his backstory or her fic exploring the Shaw’s future pups~!

@taelonsamada: she/her

A pillar- or should I say fence post?- of the fandom and just an utter peach. Always has a nice word to say and says the best nice words about Sam and Darlin- Highlights: Her nsfw Geordi/Cutie fic holds a special place in my heart (the blindfold? the gag? Be still my beating heart), but you haven’t lived until you’ve read her Shaw-centric Ranch AU~!

@teasandcardigans: she/her

Mads, another lovely creator that could be in either section of this post- that's how talented she is! Not only is she a lovely writer but she also designs the most fun Redacted stickers! Also, she's got the only Redacted fan tiktok that Erik has confirmed seen and liked, can't not mention that it's so cool Highlights: Honestly, there's too many to mention! A really popular of hers is a "What If" echo-esque reimagining of everyone's stories which is so fun, and my personal, biased favorite is her Alexis & Gavin fic hear me OUT-

@the-sugar-crash

Cait, out here doing the most and the best. They’ve run the Redacted Winter Gift Exchange for the past two years, connecting blogs who might have never spoken to each other, inspiring creativity, and spreading holiday cheer~ Highlights: I recommend taking a look-see through the “Redacted 2022 Winter Gift Exchange” tag- much thanks to Cait for making it possible- to consider if you’d like to join next year! Until then, there’s a compilation of their cute headcanon posts to inspire you!

@zozo-01: she/her

Zo, one of the sweetest people in the fandom~ Not only is she a fantastic writer, but she is also one of the friendliest people in the space! Constantly excited and supportive and positive and a joy to follow and befriend. Highlights: Her Sam/Darlin Deity AU is going to change the world and break some hearts, I just know it. (Just like her Alexis and Darlin meeting fic broke mine-) If you're not up to getting your heart broken and just want a friend, I recommend asking her about her Powerpoint of Bollywood scenes that could be Sam/Darlin moments~!

Fanart:

@andr0leda: she/they

Androleda’s art is so gorgeous in that most of them are uncolored or working with a smaller palette, and it just makes those colors stand out and the line work all the more elegant. Highlights: Their wolf!Darlin piece got so popular, and you can see why! It looks like the cover of a really cool YA fantasy novel. Also, her Sam/Darlin art just melts the heart- the gentle hand, the key around the neck-!

@artbykays

Kays, a fantastic artist who plays around with the prettiest, brightest colors and has the prettiest (hottest) fem listeners. They also have super fun Redacted playlists! Highlights: Their Sweetheart, Valentina, is kind of smokin hot, I mean look at her, but also good lord, have you seen their Warden like lock me up anytime hello-

@belovedbow

Bow’s art just makes me so soft and gooey inside I dunno. Their art is so pretty, and they always have the most expressive faces. Not to mention the colors- like, Bow uses the simplest but most emotionally evocative shades of pinks and blues that make me inexplicably feel things, and I love it. Highlights: Literally all their Davey/Angel is the sweetest, but I also have this deep fondness for their imp!FL and Vindemiator pieces, because look at these deep, mournful blues, they’re beautiful!

@cascadiiing: they/them

Atlas creates the most beautiful, squishable, smoochable characters on top of being the most beautiful, squishable, smoochable (platonic) sweetie in existence~ they’re so sweet and friendly on top of being so talented at such a young age, and I would protect them with my life. Highlights: Their Sam kind of makes me so lovesick, I could barf- he’s just that pretty. Their Alexis/Christian art is fanart of my own fic, I’ll grant you, but it’s also so fucking pretty look at the dreamy colors and it MOVES-

@claracatlady

Where would we be without Clara, like honestly- What really stands out about their art is- other than the overwhelming talent- the obvious thought and joy that went into designing the outfits. Only the best from our resident fashion design student! Highlights: literally everything. If I must be specific, the David design pinned to their blog is utterly ahdhkakshdjsk, and I am particularly partial to their Alexis design, because I love my beautiful, possibly complex lady okay-

@fregget-frou : he/they

Mal has the prettiest Listeners; I’m lowkey in love with all of them~ I love the way he does such fluffy, voluminous hair, and I dunno, all their listener OC’s have this fashion model-esque glamour and posture about them that’s really attractive. Highlights: Of their listeners, Mal’s Angel has got to be my favorite. Look at this fluffy-haired cutie! Look at this menace! I would also propose to them, they’re gorgeous!

@gwenifred: she/her

Gwen draws the most gorgeous, swoon-worthy Huxleys and is just a big sweetpea to boot. Her and Pali sharing OC’s and art trades here and on Twitter is a testament to how friendly and sweet the fandom can be! Highlights: Everything she draws is gorgeous, but you haven’t lived until you’ve seen her animation work!

@ice-palace-art: They/It/He/Dae

Darby has some of the most beautiful designs, I can hardly stand it. He creates the most gorgeous, realistically proportioned characters and listeners, and they’re just really smoochable okay let me live- Highlights: It has this one piece of Gavin and Lasko having a sleepover that fills me with the warm fuzzies every time I see it, and their Aaron design fills me with longing I am hopelessly in love with their dad-bodded Aaron.

@itsdaifuku: she/her

Y’all don’t even know the little happy stim storm Fuku’s art sets me on; like, all her art is so cute and joyful and somehow colorful even when it’s in black and white? It just gives the vibe of life and vibrancy constantly? How does she do that? Highlights: Literally, everything she draws is gorgeous and sweet, though her designs for the Shaws and their mates are so S-tier and so cute. (I’m also particularly fond of her designs for Love and Alexis, my favorite characters, I’m biased, sue me)

@mr-laveau: he/they

Laveau, my favorite Milo kinnie~ (Yeah, I said it out loud; I’m callin you out.) Charming, thoughtful, friendly, much more talented than they have any right to be when they’re also so funny and sweet, AND also writing at their other blog @bratty-telepath. You’ve never seen such a double threat. Highlights: Literally, everything he makes. All his designs are colorful and gorgeous and filled to the brim with deliberate, intentional details (though I am incredibly partial to their Alexis and Darlin designs and the parallels he included between them.)

@nais-doodles

Nai is a fucking blessing unto this fandom, and we are not worthy. You haven’t really lived, haven’t experienced all the pure, positive silliness that this hellsite has to offer until you experience Nai’s Redacted Actor AU. It’s pure serotonin, and we’re all here listening to Boyfriend ASMR, I know we could use it. Highlights: Other than said AU posts (which really are so fuckin good), have you seen their drawing of Vincent and Sam’s Monarchal ball? Ooh, and if you go to their tiktok under the same username, you can see some of the really cool dating sim they’re working on!

@nanowatzophina: any pronouns

Na’no is not only a must follow on tumblr, but I also highly recommend their tiktok if you wish to wade through the horrid cesspool of that app (I say with tiktok as one of my top social media sites- we have a codependent relationship) Their art is super cute and expressive, and I get massive gender envy from the way he draws hair and teeth. Highlights: Her aspec Freelancer is just so close to my heart; I adore Avery so deeply. Also, the way they draw imperium!Vega and Pet makes my heart fucking melt and want to jump out my chest- the size difference, my god

@obsessivedino: they/them

Mint’s contribution to the fandom cannot possibly be overstated. Their art style is just so clean and neat and with the cutest expressions, and I love their designs so much, especially for the d(a)emon bois I just ahhhhh Highlights: If you’ve joined the official unofficial Redacted Discord server, you’ve seen their adorable stickers reminding you to kick that ass or hydrate unless you want to die-drate, and you haven’t truly embraced life unless you’ve seen their two-year anniversary masterpiece. Ooh, or pocket caelum!

@palilious: she/her

There is no Redacted fandom or fandom list without Pali, and we’ve all accepted that. Her style is so uniquely and instantaneously recognizable as hers, and everyone adores it, including but not limited to GBA, Nomad, and Cardlin! Highlights: Literally everyone she draws is so pretty, though I have a soft spot for her Vincent or her Nomad drawings if you’re looking for more VAs to listen to!

@pearl-kite: she/they

Kirehn has the most huggable humans and the most awe-inspiring d(a)emons. The way she draws the d(a)emons with constellations worked into the designs and color palettes is just so gorgeous and purposeful and thoughtful. Highlights: Their Vega is so frightening but beautiful, you just can’t look away from him. I’m also particularly in love with their Darlin!

@queendread

Do y’all ever do this thing when you see an ethereally beautiful person and you have no words, all you can do is giggle like a vapid schoolgirl(gn)? That’s me with all of Anna’s paintings: no words, just awe. Highlights: I don’t even really like Gavin, okay, he’s not my type, but lord above, Anna’s Gavin is something else. Their Sam also has those Captain America, boy next door good looks I imagined, it’s like they took him right out of my daydreams.

@ryokoaoi : they/them

Ryo has the absolute cutest, most adorable art style, one can barely handle it! Everything they draw is just so pretty and so colorful and detailed and sweet. (Except the sad things, those are less sweet but gosh they’re still so pretty.) They also have this Magic Swap AU that they design that is so fun to read about! Highlights: Their swapped! Gavin and Avior designs are so fun, I adore them deeply, and if you need something to cheer you up, you can always depend on their DAMN pieces that always include a little invisible Caelum to bring you joy~!

@slushrottweiler: she-they

There is nothing like seeing Slush’s signature blue linework on your dashboard, it’s such a sweet treat- or spicy. There are also very good, very spicy treats. Her blog is a magnificent roulette wheel of blue surprises. Highlights: I love their Sam/Darlin stuff, especially this one because wowee them shoulderblades, but their HuxDami BA piece takes the cake.

@spookybeandoodle

Spooky has my whole heart and wallet and my other heart if I had one I fell in love with their rich color palettes and shading and Alexis right away and had to commission them. Could not recommend enough, they were a treasure to work with~ Highlights: I’m not biased- okay yes I am but not now their Alexis is fuckin smoking hot but also their Cam might be my favorite Cam look at that smile-!

@sri-rachaa: she/her

Rae is such a treasure to this fandom, we hardly deserve her. Her art is so ethereally pretty and delicate? The way she draws hair and noses and silhouettes- her line work is just phenomenal. Everything she creates is just a delight to look at. Highlights: The Southern Siblings AU is a gift, a treasure, a boon that cannot be ignored. I’m also a big fan of her Lovely OC who is ridiculously pretty~

@tankwolf : she/her

June has been posting fanart for only two months, but I’m already absolutely obsessed. I just find her monochrome character portraits so visually engaging and interesting. I would love so badly to be friends with her listener OC’s… Highlights: …or more than friends, because her Sweetheart is something else good lord. I would just love it if June could stop putting the hot people in crop tops please (but also don’t cause whoa)

@terrazaurio

All the fanart Terra creates is so bright and vivid and colorful and expressive, they’re really such a treat to see and experience. I’m a sucker for the colors they use, cause it makes my lizard brain all happy and go “shiny pretty happy.” Highlights: Everything they draw with the Shaw Pack is pure dopamine, like this one of the bois and their mates hanging by the pool. I am particularly attached to this piece from Milo’s HBS, because they’re so fucking in love, your honor, I love them.

@thefablefoxart : she/her

Angelina’s Redacted couple series is one of the truest delights of the fandom; like, they’re so colorful and cute and just adorably designed. I’m also deeply in love with the way she does hair. Everyone just has really fucking good looking hair, and I can’t get over it-Highlights: On top of the aforementioned couple series, I just want to bring attention to this adorable chibi Sam that she drew- it brings me so much serotonin- and their Darlin, Kai who I wish would just give me a shot okay I have a Southern accent too-

If you’re reading all the way here, I hope you found the post helpful and smiled while making your way through it! Or both! The RedactedAudio fandom is truly one of my favorite spaces on the internet; it’s so intimate and creative, and I’ve found some amazing, perfect friends here, so I hope you will too 💖

again playing around with the formatting please stop hurting me tumblr I’m trying to be nice

If you can see this, I love you, and you’re watching me try to format this post so tumblr doesn’t cut off the bottom of it please ignore the Android behind the emerald curtain go about your day

#redactedasmr #redactedverse #redacted asmr #redactedaudio #redacted audio #redacted

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dyouknowwhatimean-archive · 3 months ago

Note

short-time follower first time asker do you have any oasis fic recs. i need to check this shit out properly

hi, of course! <3

trying to find a world that's been and gone you've probably already read this one but i wanted to include it cause you sound maybe a bit new to oasis fics? so maybe you haven't read it and if you haven't it's about to change your entire fucking life, literally a masterpiece one of the most devastating stories on every level i've ever read in my life. it's part 1 in a series of 7 they're all good if you've got the time, if you don't you can just read this one, or this one + part 4. it's long it's really long i'm not gonna lie but i swear it's worth it

be careful what you wish for gcest + noel/clint boon, i love the way this compares both relationships and what they mean for noel, the differences between them re: power etc

let me be the one is part 1 in a series of 6, the whole series is worth checking out if you've got the time to read all that but if not this one works as a stand alone and on its own spans a good amount of years which is something i always appreciate

cuz you live in my dreams i really love the way noel is written here, it's not something i'm used to seeing in oasis fics and it's really interesting

and then of course rye is my favorite author, i recommend everything she's written. not even just for the oasis fandom, if you're into supernatural i also recommend those

my favorite oasis fics of hers are to these ends of separation which is the brick through the window🪟 maybe fic, crazy as hell. and to see it which is a sort of character study about liam's whole mystical celestial thing or as i call it the shining, such a personal fanfic i get so emotional when i read it or even just think about it

#fic recs #💌

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buckyseddie · 1 year ago

Text

always hold you

pairings — tasm!peter parker x bff/gf!fem!reader

summary — in which, she needs her boyfriend's support more than anything else, after another particularly bad fight with her father.

word count — 2.6k.

warnings — a little bit of angst, use of pet-names [dove, sweetheart, darling, love, bug], reader calls peter pete, lots of fluff and this is basically just a hurt/comfort fic, protective/soft!peter, this is also sort of similar to my other peter fic (take as a part two that one), peter comforting reader, mentions of the reader's low self-esteem issues and it being explained a bit more, both physical and emotional abuse (manipulation and gaslighting, but not from peter), hugs and cuddles, forehead kisses, peter just taking care of the reader and showing her the love that her family refuses to do, gwen is in here for a second and being the comforting platonic best friend that she is to reader, peter comes off as a little harsh and scares reader a little bit but he makes up for it in the end.

notes — hi! so, this is really more of a vent fic. i know i've written in the past about dealing w/ a toxic family member and how i really enjoyed writing fics similar to my experiences with my favorite comfort characters to comfort the reader because that would usually help me deal with everything. but recently, the abuse that me, my mom, and my brother have been experiencing has become a lot more complicated and traumatizing for me to deal with. and things have only gotten worse. so, i figured i'd do another comforting fic like the other peter fic i wrote about going through that said abuse. i really just feel that it's important to not hide my true feelings and act like everything's fine behind a screen and i just want to be able to talk about this topic a lot more (especially in my writing), because it's so serious and not nearly talked about enough. but, nonetheless, if there's anyone out there that sees this and is a victim of abuse (whether it's emotional/mental or physical abuse, or both) please don't feel obligated to read this. i really don't want to trigger or upset anyone who's dealing with this situation in a very heavy and overwhelming way. just remember though, no matter what anyone says or does to you, you ARE strong and deserve the entire world. i love you all <3. anyways, i hope this makes up for the lack of posting anything (i've been really struggling with a lot, but i'm trying!). gif and divider creds to owner!

p.s., feedback is very much encouraged and appreciated <3.

other fic

main masterlist

IT'S OBVIOUS NOW THAT SHE was stupid to think that he could change. it was even more stupid of her to go back to that apartment.

but, she's always been one to see the best in people — in her case, it's come to bite her in the ass.

even now, as she awaits her boyfriend to return home from his nightly patrol around the city, [y/n] knows that she should've known better.

she trembles as she sits on their shared bed, one of her legs bouncing anxiously — the thought of how peter will react to her foolish decision and the outcome from it is stressing her out, beyond words.

after how he responded the first time he found out about the truth about her father's cruelty and what she'd had to go through, she's worried of how he will react this time — it took almost everything in him to not confront her father, when he first found out.

she abruptly jumps when she hears the front door of the apartment shut softly.

a shaky breath leaves her lips, wondering if it's too late to try to hide the marks on her face and body.

but, when she hears him call out her name from the living room, she knows that it's too late — there's nothing she can do now to hide this.

and even if she wanted to for a split second, she promised peter she'd never lie to him again — after the last time, they promised each other that they'd never hide anything from the other again.

so, with another shaky breath, [y/n] sighs and hesitantly pulls the bedroom door open.

she keeps her head down, her hair falling around her face and covering the marks as she walks out and into the living room.

"sweetheart..." peter's voice trails off, eyes wide with shock and worry.

her breath catches in her throat as soon as she finally looks up at her boyfriend and sees the intense, protective look in his eyes.

"i—i'm sorry, peter." she whispers, voice too raspy to get any louder.

a flash of anger fills his eyes. "please... tell me that you didn't go back to him!" he exclaims in a quieter tone of voice as he pinches the corner of his eyes.

[y/n] flinches at the amount of frustration in his voice.

"peter, i—i'm sorry... " her voice trembles, guilt and regret quickly filling her — she just feels so stupid.

peter sighs, regretting taking his anger out on her.

his eyes immediately soften. "sweetheart, i'm sorry." he murmurs, before starting to walk over to her.

but, before he can reach her, she flinches and winces.

he stops short, freezing in place. more guilt fills him as he realizes that in this moment, she's scared of him.

"look... i—i know that i shouldn't have gone back," she whispers, tears clouding her eyes as she remembers the anger and hatred in her father's eyes.

peter's silent for a moment, waiting and giving her time to explain more — if she's able to.

"i'm... i'm so stupid, peter." she whispers, too ashamed to talk any louder.

peter's eyes widen in shock, not expecting that statement to come out of her mouth. "w—what? darling, that's not true."

this time, a tear falls down her cheek. "yes, i am. peter, who's stupid enough to choose to believe that their abusive, monster-of-a-father can change? me — it's me!"

the rambling and the self-loathing words coming out of his girlfriend's mouth becomes incredibly clear to peter as he walks over to her.

this time now, he doesn't hesitate to pull her into his chest as her voice becomes more trembling and wavering, "this is on me — it's my fault."

"it's okay now, love. don't blame yourself." he murmurs as she stops holding herself back and breaks into breathless sobs into his chest.

after a while, her crying slows and quiets down with her tears now dried on her cheeks.

she faces him and takes in a deep, calming breath as he wipes away the remaining tears away and looks over her bruises more intensely.

"i wanna kill him for doing this to you — again." the venom in his tone sends shivers through her spine — knowing what he would do to protect her comforts her.

but, on the other hand, she also knows that hurting her father isn't going to do anything for them or fix anything.

"no, peter. i know you don't mean that." she murmurs seriously.

an angry frown places itself over his lips. "no, i do."

she sighs. "okay, maybe you do. but, it won't fix anything and we both know that," she says, moving one of her fingers up to smooth out the crease in between his very furrowed eyebrows.

"it's okay now — i'm okay." she whispers seriously, grabbing his hand and rubbing soothing circles over his thumb.

you'd think from how she's comforting him that peter was the one that got hurt, not her — that's just how she is; she always finds herself taking care of everyone else, when she really should be taking care of herself.

maybe that's why they're such a good pair — while they're taking care of everyone else and their loved ones, they can trust the other to take care of the other.

"that's the thing, love. it's not okay! you shouldn't have to go out of your way to avoid him, just to protect yourself." he exclaims, ripping his hand out of hers and this time pacing around the living room with his hand now gripping his hair in frustration.

she sighs, frowning — this is exactly why she didn't want to tell him because she hates worrying him like this.

"it may not be fair, but if it's what i have to do to protect myself, then that's what i'll do — i should've kept doing that, instead of being an idiot to believe he'd change." she admits, shrugging, trying to play this all off, as if it's not that big of a deal.

"don't say that — don't do that!" he abruptly yells, turning around to face her defensively.

she flinches — once again — at the volume of his voice. "don't do what?" she asks meekly, her voice too soft.

he sighs in regret. "i'm sorry. i'm not trying to scare you." his eyes are downcast at the floor, before he looks up again, the guilt clear in his irises this time.

"it's okay, peter." she gulps, berating herself for some part of her being afraid of him — after all, she has no reason to fear him because he'd never intentionally hurt her.

"it's not. i shouldn't have gotten so angry — i'm not mad at you, i promise," he says in a much more quiet voice, sighing as he sees that look in her eyes — the one that she always has when she feels like a burden and feels like she should be apologizing.

"sweetheart, don't even think about apologizing. none of this is your fault."

[y/n] sighs in exasperation. "maybe it is. i'm the one that is always making a fool out of myself by believing in the best of everyone."

she sighs when a flash of irritation shows in his eyes. "what?" he whispers, his eyebrows furrowing together.

she takes in another breath when he walks over to her and hesitantly places his hands over her cheeks.

[y/n] sighs again.

"this isn't your fault, love. know that," he murmurs, his eyes searching hers for some kind of understanding. "please, tell me that you know that."

she sighs again, noticing the tears filling his eyes — it becomes incredibly clear to her how much the man in front of her cares about her.

"peter... " her own eyes fill with tears, even spilling to her cheeks.

without another thought, he gently wipes away her tears. "promise me that you understand me."

she sighs again. "y—yes, i understand," she murmurs, hating the hope that fills his eyes. "but, i just don't believe it."

he opens his mouth to object, but she interrupts him before he has the chance to say something, "i want to. but, i can't just shut off the way i feel — i was raised the way i was and with the trauma i have gotten along the way, i can't just forget it."

more tears fills his eyes, before he moves incredibly closer to her and brings her close to kiss her forehead. "knowing you want to believe it is good enough for me."

when he pulls away from her he smiles warmly at her. "let's go cuddle now, yeah?"

the softness in his voice makes her smile. "sounds like a plan, pete." she murmurs with a nod and leads him to their shared room.

once they're inside of their bedroom, [y/n] walks over to their shared bathroom, to change into her set of pajamas she set aside earlier in the day, after she had just gotten back from her father's home — she used to call it her home, but that all changed once her once-very-close relationship with her father changed.

after she changes and brushes her hair and teeth, she takes in a deep breath and tries to mentally prepare herself for the rest of the night.

but, when she shuts off the light and opens the door, she comes to realize that the bedroom is empty.

she walks out of the bathroom and looks around, her eyebrows quickly knitting together in confusion.

and just as she's about to call out her boyfriend's name, she hears hushed voices outside of the room.

with much more confusion filling her body, she slowly walks out of their room and into the living room, only to see peter standing at the door, talking at the door in a hushed voice.

"pete? is everything okay?" she asks as she walks up from behind him.

he jumps a little in surprise, before motioning towards the door.

the blond hair of their current guest surprises her.

"oh, gwen. hi." she greets her best friend and then her boyfriend, wrapping her arms around his waist and leaning into him with her chin resting on his shoulder.

"what are you doing here?"

gwen shrugs. "i just wanted to check up on you — your dad called me, yelling at me because he thought that you'd left to go hide at my apartment."

the words that come out of one of her best friends' mouth shakes [y/n] to her very core — anytime she hears anything about her father, she gets easily nervous and scared.

in a matter of seconds, [y/n] slowly pulls away from her boyfriend's body.

she knows that she should try to pretend everything's fine and as if her friend's words don't affect her, but she can't help it.

if she had a few more seconds, she'd probably fall into a state of mind where she'd completely shut down.

but, when a light touch to her shoulder by peter shakes her out of her daze, she sighs and nervously finds her boyfriend's eyes on her.

"what's going on, guys? did something happen?" gwen asks worriedly after seeing the tense look on [y/n]'s face.

peter doesn't speak. he doesn't even look away from his girlfriend — his eyes simply say that the decision is all hers.

despite the fact that him and gwen are pretty close friends, he's always respected [y/n]'s choices.

with a sigh, [y/n] turns to gwen. "i kind of had a run in with my dad earlier."

as she hears that statement, gwen begins to notice the bruises on her best friend's face.

she frowns. "are you okay?" she asks, but after a moment, she groans and rolls her eyes at herself.

"i'm sorry. that was insensitive — of course you're not okay."

[y/n] laughs, despite the seriousness of the situation. "it's okay."

gwen gives her a pointed look, not believing for one moment that what she asked was okay.

"really, gwen," she says, finding some courage inside of her. "i'm probably not okay. but... " she trails off, suddenly feeling like everything is going to be okay with the ones that truly love her by her side.

"for the first time, i think i'm going to be okay — that everything will be okay." she says confidently, moving even closer to peter and practically burying herself into his arms.

gwen smiles. "good. i'm glad."

—————

AFTER A LITTLE BIT MORE of talking, they all finally say their goodbyes and peter shuts the door gently.

they move over to the couch, peter covering them — mostly [y/n] — with one of the fuzzy throw blankets that was lying over the front of the couch.

"you doing okay?" he asks softly as she lays her face into his neck.

she smiles, feeling reassured for the first time.

she lifts her head back up to look at him.

"i know going back was stupid. i do—" before she can continue, he interrupts her with guilt evident in his brown eyes. —"i'm sorry, bug. for how angry i got earlier."

she tilts her head in confusion. "what do you mean?"

"i shouldn't have gotten upset with you. and i'm sorry for startling you. i was just worried." he murmurs seriously, frowning at her confusion.

"i just... every time i think about your dad being near you or hurting you, well, it drives me crazy, sweetheart." he says, trying to ignore the anger in his voice every time he thinks about the type of person his girlfriend's father is.

"pete... it's okay. i'm not going to go back — i learned my lesson." she says, cupping his jaw with one hand, in order to try to calm him down.

he sighs, leaning into her hand and covering it with one of his own.

"that's the point, sweetheart. you shouldn't have to be cautious and scared to avoid him, so that he doesn't act like that. it's not okay."

she frowns, wishing that she could stop him from worrying.

but, she also knows that he needs to get these feelings out and off of his chest.

"tell me, peter. what is it?" she asks, being the understanding girlfriend that he loves — no matter how cliche that actually sounds.

"i love how good-hearted you are, sweetheart. the way you always see the good in everyone, despite what they've done to you — it's amazing," he starts, pulling her hand away from his jaw to hold over one of his legs.

"and i never want you to stop being that person. but, i also hate that you have to avoid him. you shouldn't have to give up your happiness and peace."

she nods in clear understanding.

he groans again, leaning his forehead over hers.

"it's okay, peter."

he pulls away and opens his mouth to say something in defense, but she stops him by speaking before him, "peter, i know it upsets you that he doesn't get to be punished for his actions and i get that."

he stops short, giving her a chance to finish talking.

"i know you hate that. but, i know that you love me more than any urge that you have to give him what he deserves — and that's what i need you to do, okay? love me more than you hate him." he frowns at her words.

as if noticing his hesitation, she says, "for me. please?"

he sighs in defeat and nods. "fine. for you." he murmurs as he pulls her closer into his embrace and body.

she smiles in victory as she lies her head on his shoulder. "i love you, peter parker. you know that?" she murmurs, cuddling up close to him.

"i know i can always count on you." she says, once more, smiling as he chuckles and stretches over to kiss her on the forehead.

"good. because i love you more and i'll always hold you when you need it, dove." he murmurs, smiling at her calm and at peaceful face.

and like that, they cuddle until they fall asleep with peaceful expressions on their faces.

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adventuringblind · 1 year ago

Note

Hi I saw your requests are open you don’t have to write anything if you don’t want to but I had this idea and I wanted to share

I was thinking of meting Charles on Monaco maybe during Sumer break or something, and being a little homesick so he decides to take us to a bookstore (sorry I just like to rad a lot you can change the place) and just talking about like a book he likes and just sitting on the floor with him looking for something to read and getting romantic

Idk if it makes sense but thank you and have a nice day/night

Home is Where You Are

Charles leclerc x reader

Genre: fluff

Request: Yes! I hope you enjoy it, I thought the idea was super cute! I'm open for Max, Charles, Lando, Oscar, George, and Daniel. Also, up for poly fics if anyone is interested. (If you have too much love to go around, clap your hands)

Summary: living with Charles is a dream come true. Longing for home, though, can strike anyone. Good thing he's there to help you through it until you can find time to go visit.

Warnings: home sickness, straight fluff

Notes: written in second person. Likes, comments, and reblogs are always appreciated!

Also, I've sent up my account to let tips be enabled. I was debating whether or not to say this because i dont want to sound like im begging, but frankly, people opinions do not matter me me. If you like my writing and want to support me, please consider tipping my posts or my blog. I put a lot of effort into my writing, and it would mean the world to me. Obviously, I won't have my feelings hurt if you ignor this, but I wanted to put it out there.

Masterlist

You and Charles had been together for a while now. Managing to do some long distance when you couldn't travel with him.

Now you were engaged, and you said yes. Knowing you wanted to spend the rest of your life with him.

You traveled more now. Finding yourself in different countries for the majority of the year. But you always went back home when you could. The family and familiarity bringing you comfort.

When Charles asked you to move in with him, you'd been happy. The two of you now completely together. Ready to share your lives with each other.

You were lucky you could take your job anywhere. The traveling often helping provide inspiration for your novel.

Charles made sure you felt comfortable in his, now yours as well, apartment. Making sure you had your favorite foods. He purchased an entire bookshelf just for you. He even stockpiled the apartment with soft blanket.

It was a dream come true for you.

You loved it. Waking up with Charles. Eating breakfast with him. Not having to FaceTime him to say goodnight for half the year.

When the summer break for formula 1 came around, you found yourself wanting to go back to your home country. You'd been back in Monaco for less than a week, but the days had you missing things you didn't realize you would.

You liked it in Monaco. It's your home now. But it didn't stop your mind from wandering back to the streets you grew up on. To your friends and family. The shops you frequented.

That's how Charles found you. Sitting at the table, staring into your cup of tea. Lost in the world of your subconscious.

"Mon Amour? Are you alright?"

His voice dragged out out of your thoughts. Your eyes dragging themselves to his face as he found a spot next to you.

He knew something was wrong. There was really no point in trying to lie when it was written all over your body.

You run your finger around the rim of your glass. Taking comfort in Charles nimble fingers running up and down your arm.

"Just a bit homesick, I guess." You confessed. Sighing at your relentless thoughts. Pulling your heart deeper into its sad state.

Charles hums in response. Considering what you'd said to him. "I think I know how to cheer you up." He smirks.

Charles couldn't take you back to your home country currently. You'd been working ridiculously hard, and he'd been busy doing sim work. He'd get you there soon, but for now, he'd settle for trying to get your mind off things.

An hour later, you were dressed and walking down the streets of Monaco. Nonclue where Charles was taking you. Just giggling as he held your hand and pulled you along with him. The two of you are making conversation about anything that pops into your heads.

Charles was basking in the warmth of your smile. So much so that he almost missed his intended destination. A little corner store with a vintage looking sign reading 'Nook's Books'.

"Here we are." He smiled and opened the door for you. A little bell rang to alert the owner that someone had entered.

Charles watched as your mouth opened in awe. Taking in the shelves lined top to bottom with books new and old. "I thought you might like it."

"Why did I never know about this?"

"It's hidden away, so those who don't know the city will have a harder time finding it. It's our own little corner of peace." He rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. "I was going to surprise you right before the wedding."

It didn't take long for you to grab Charles' hand and lead him down the rows of books.

You'd found many books that you liked and had picked a spot on the floor to look through them.

Charles couldn't help but admire you. On the floor surrounded by books. You looked adorable in his eyes.

He plopped down next to you and spread out his arms and legs. Inviting you without words to come rest your body against his. You happy oblige. Crawling into the safety of his arms.

You spent hours in the small store. Charles listening intently as you either talked about a book or read chapters from one.

The twobof you finally left when the store was about to close. Having spent so much time there that it was now dark outside. The streets illuminated with the orangey hue of lampposts.

Charles spun you around as you walked, Making you giggle. Completely unbothered by the nightlife of Monaco.

When you two made it to the outside of the apartment building, Charles pulled you into him.

"I know I can't get you back to your family right now, but are you feeling a bit better?"

"Yes, thank you, for everything." Your eyes met his soft gaze.

"No thanks needed. I was simply doing my job." He chuckled. Leaning in closer to you.

Finally, his lips landed on yours. A loving kiss shared between you two. But this time, when he kissed you, you knew Charles was your home.

303 notes · View notes

liesmyth · 5 months ago

Note

Alright, I've got another fic question for you! What are your favorite tlt gen fics?

you say “what ARE” I took this as permission to rec Many

A Mild Sort of Resurrection by sigaloenta [Bari Star AU]

In all the extensive special briefings and all-hands bulletins and strict sets of orders preparatory to the Emperor Divine's inspection tour of the Avernus, no one had considered that God might desire to fetch Himself a coffee.

An Impromptu Christening by orphan_account

The Ninth house finds a body and a baby. Nobody who matters is really thrilled about this turn of events.

believing in everything (and knowing nothing at all) by LesbianJesusLovesYou

A series of childhood memories from the Ninth.

“Fuck it, I'm adopting her," said John Gaius, not knowing the paperwork wasn't necessary by @naamah-beherit

Gideon, a highly distinguished Cohort lieutenant, saves the day—and the girl—and then gets stuck in the lift of The Erebos with a man feeding her peanuts as if they have all the time in the world. They don't, but if he doesn't mind, then why should she?

High But Very Drear by @honorarycassowary. (written pre-NtN)

Aiglamene and Crux receive the five hundred ancient dead gifted by the Emperor for the renewal of the Ninth, and also do something that could be construed as mourning.

John 25:12 by @halfeatenmoon

John and his friends escape the cow fortress to spend Christmas Day at the beach. With beer, salads, pavlova, and the corpses of a million fish killed by nuclear weapons testing.

Mortification of the Flesh by @theriverbeyond

In the myriadic year of our Lord—the ten thousandth year of the King Undying, the Lord of the Sharpest Edge!—Harrow Nova challenged the cavalier of the Ninth for his title.

Purgatory Is Mandatory by @urban-sith (written pre-NtN)

Ianthe figures out the true secrets of Lyctorhood while stuck in a time loop at Canaan House.

recognize them by their fruits by @ceruleanvulpine (written pre-NtN)

John and Ianthe deal with the fact that his only remaining Lyctor is the one he never liked much. Maybe they can bond over the fact that they're both egotistical manipulators who lie like breathing? No?

so I open the window to hear sounds of people by @sunderedstar [but really that whole series!]

John misses the beach. The real beach. The current one is mostly soil with a lacy veneer of nuclear ash, clammy and streaky and hilariously radioactive, which is a real bummer when he thinks about it too hard. But the twenty-five meter sea level rise that came when all the freshwater ice finished melting around the mid-century mark ate away at the shoreline, rolled in between the skyscrapers on a new tide, swallowed up all the people who couldn't afford to move anywhere else. Have you seen the rent rates lately?

some part of me must have died by @theriverbeyond

What if Wake survived long enough to bring her newborn baby to Tomb, and killed her. and then the baby didn't die.

the kingdom of heaven by bittybelle

John puts that first-draft dream of his to bed.

Two Things by Isis

There were two things Jeannemary Chatur wanted: to fight for the Emperor Undying by the side of her necromancer, and for the stupid pimple on her chin to go away already.

when I call, will you come to me? by LesbianJesusLovesYou

“My Lady,” Ortus wheezed, shifting uncomfortably. “I only thought you should know… Gideon Nav was flogged before the congregation.”

#Anonymous #ask #tlt fic #fic recs #tlt

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creamhoodie · 10 months ago

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Summary: You and Gojo were dating in your youth. Your relationship was an intimate secret the two of you held close. After a mission went astray, your relationship fell apart. Flash forward a few years and you're now dating Kento Nanami and are forced to navigate your feelings regarding the two of them.

Tags: fem reader, NSFW, 18+ content, angst, love triangle, flashback scenes written in italics.

A/N: This will be my first multi chapter fic I've written on here (plz comment if you'd like to be included in a tag list. ) Also pls do not make fun or point out any plot holes when it comes to explaining & introducing stuff having to do with curses. This is all for fun and fantasy no way reflecting canon. The things I write about are meant to make sense within the context of the story & will be explained as the story progresses.

wc: 5.4k

Chapter 1: The Day Everything Changed

“Oh. The flowers? Is it a special day?” Gojo asked, poking his head into your empty classroom as you sat at your desk grading papers.

The roses he spoke of were in a pristine glass vase. A gift from your boyfriend.

“Kento got them for me for our anniversary,” you replied shortly.

“Oh really? How long has it been now?” he asked, cocking his head to the side as if thinking.

“Two years,” you replied.

Surely he knew. How couldn’t he? The two of you had history and call it arrogance but given that history you were sure he kept tabs on your romantic life.

“Congratulations,” he said, though his enthusiasm seemed forced.

It was enough to make you snap

“Is there a reason you came to see me?” you asked.

He smiled and walked into the room fully now, a pink bag in his hand and placed it on your desk next to the flowers.

“I got you a souvenir from when I went to Kyoto,” he said, seemingly pleased with himself.

Curiosity winning out, you peered into the bag to find a medium sized white box. Taking the box out, you lifted the lid and gasped.

“It’s Kyogashi! Oh Satoru you shouldn’t have,” you said with glee at him having gotten you your favorite flower sweets.

Caught up in the moment you stood from your desk and hugged him. His chest vibrated as he laughed at your enthusiasm. His arms enveloped you as well and you felt his hands stroke your hair. Pulling back, you saw him looking down at you.

“It’s been a while since we’ve been this close,” he said, the corners of his lips flickering upwards.

Your face flushed beet red as he referenced your past with him.

“For good reason,” you said, shoving him away. He reluctantly let you go. Straightening your blouse, you hoped his cologne didn’t linger on your clothes. You wouldn’t want to have to explain that to Nanami.

“Have you ever told him about us?” Gojo asked, as if reading your mind.

“No. That’s all in the past. It was a long time ago so there’s no need to bring it up. Besides, you broke up with me. Remember?”

He appeared visibly hurt at your words, but there was no denying the truth in them. He had been the one who had ended things with you, even if it had been in an unorthodox way.

“Remember what?” Nanami walked into the room, having caught only the last of your words. You seemed flustered but luckily Gojo was quick on his feet as always.

“She was just reminding me that it’s the two of you’s anniversary,” he said.

Nanami walked over to you and placed an arm around your shoulders as he always did for comfort.

“Oh good. That’s exactly why I’m here to take her out for dinner. Otherwise she’ll work herself to death,” your boyfriend said laughing slightly. He peered over at your desk at the box and asked, “what are these?”

“Gojo got these for me as a souvenir from his mission in Kyoto,” you replied.

You’d never lie to Nanami, he didn’t deserve that. Plus it wasn’t unusual for Gojo to bring everyone souvenirs of some sort.

“Oh that’s nice. You deserve so many sweet things, darling,” he said, giving your shoulder a gentle squeeze. He then addressed Gojo, “if you’ll excuse us I made reservations for us tonight so we really must be going.”

Nanami led you to the door, but not before stopping to grab your purse and drape it over his shoulder to carry it for you.

“I wish we could stay like this forever,” you said, snuggling into Gojo’s chest.

The two of you were laying down in a hammock outside, basking in the sun. Since there had been nothing pressing and it was an ‘off day’ the two of you had hiked near the outskirts of campus to set up the hammock and relax.

“So do I,” he replied, his lips grazing the top of your hair.

It was a nice spring day, the kind where the warmth of the sun shot dopamine into your veins and made life worth living again. Take into account the added warmth of Gojo’s body and you couldn't imagine a better place to be.

These getaways between the two of you had been more frequent and a secret from the rest of your cohort at jujutsu high. It’s not that the two of you had intended to make things secret, but you both found comfort and beauty in the privacy your relationship had to offer.

You felt Gojo’s lips at your jawline, trailing kisses there.

“Listen, about this upcoming mission…” he began what had been a source of contention between the two of you this past week.

“I know what you’re gonna say. I’m not staying behind, Yaga said I’m ready.”

You looked up at him, he was silent for a moment, his mouth forming a rigid line. Snuggling into him more, you tried to break down his resolve. “Satoru, you don’t have to worry about me, I can handle myself.”

His crystal eyes softened behind his frames and he pressed another kiss on top of your head before speaking.

“It’s not that I don’t think you’re ready. It’s not about Yaga thinking you’re ready. It’s just that special grade curses are different. They are on another level.”

“Well if it’s not about me being ready then what’s it about?” you pressed.

His cheeks grew pink.

“I just can’t lose you. I can’t stand the idea of you being hurt,” he said.

It was the closest to a confession about his feelings you’d gotten. He was sweet, affectionate, caring, and very much protective. But one thing Gojo struggled with was voicing his feelings. The fact that he did so now emphasized to you how serious he was about the upcoming mission and the danger it presented.

“I know, but that’s why you’ll be there to help protect me. Plus there’s Nanami, Yaga said he’d be going too.”

Gojo nodded, but his eyes had again taken that look where he seemed so far away in thought. You often wondered if his mind was occupied by the intersection of cursed energy and humanity as he always seemed lost in complex thought. But oftentimes when you’d catch him in this rumination, he’d quickly snap back to his carefree self, leaving you wondering if you had imagined it. This time, he let his rumination linger.

“Satoru, I’ll be fine. It’ll all be fine,” you said, softly inching upwards to snuggle your face into his neck, breathing in his ocean breeze scent.

“You better be, because I don’t know what I’ll do if it’s not.”

With the conviction he said it, you wondered if it’s the first time in his life Satoru Gojo felt truly vulnerable.

“How are you liking your meal?” Nanami asked over a bite of his own steak.

“It’s excellent. The salmon and lobster are to die for,” you replied.

The waitress stopped by and asked if the two of you needed anything. Nanami asked for more champagne as it was a special night.

The thing about Kento Nanami is that he was a lot more loose and laid back than people would think, of course under the right circumstances. Holidays and anniversaries provided those circumstances. Of course there was you, whenever the two of you were in a room together, people saw a side of him they usually didn’t see, a doting and affectionate side.

“My love, I want to take a moment to thank you for spending these past two years with me. Every moment of everyday you’ve given me something to live for,” he said. His hand reached out over the table to cover your free one, the warmth of his calloused palm made you shiver. You couldn’t help but compare his hand to Gojo, whose skin was soft.

No, that wasn’t right.

Why were you thinking of Gojo right now? You love Nanami, you have always been certain of that.

“Love?” Nanami questioned, worry forming behind his spectacles.

“I should be thanking you, Kento. You’ve treated me like a princess these past two years,” you replied.

He smiled, and it reached his eyes.

“I love you,” he said.

“I love you too,” you said.

You loved Kento Nanami and his calloused hands you knew he had acquired from his years of hard work, both physical and mental labor that shaped the foundation of who he was and his beliefs. It was better to leave Satoru Gojo and his soft hands in the past, there was no place for him or them in your life anymore. He had been the one to make that clear.

“Just stick by me and you’ll be fine,” Gojo said to you as the three of you came upon a corporate office in the special wards of Tokyo.

The veil had been cast and the area had been blocked off by authorities so there wasn’t any concern of civilians being caught in the crossfire, or so it would seem.

“Remember this special grade can shapeshift, so it’s best we stick together. From the reports, it’s intelligent so it’s been camping out in this office building and luring victims inside using its shape shifting abilities,” Nanami said, giving you two a rundown in case you hadn’t done your homework.

Maybe other times he’d be justified in doing this, as Gojo was known for winging it, but given your presence, he had made you read the reports with him over and over.

So you knew that not only was the special grade curse a shapeshifter, but that it had been luring victims all over Toyoko in different places for the past few months. Due to its intelligence, the trail of it had gone cold as it was acting as a serial killer of sorts and had covered its tracks once it had sensed it was being hunted.

Most wicked of all the curse seemed to have had access to a missing person database and therefore transformed into the missing person and lured friends and family to their deaths.

It was awful, but it explained why Gojo was so worried, the curse exploited those dear to you.

“I should go in first, and scope it out. If I see it I’ll exorcise it,” Gojo said.

So much for sticking close to him, you thought.

“That wasn’t the plan,” Nanami refuted, “Yaga said we should stick together. Besides, it’s more logical that way. If it turns into you and we’re separated it can cause more confusion.”

“It can’t copy my techniques,” Gojo said, unconcerned and determined to go at it alone, no doubt his intention was to protect you.

“We don’t know that for certain. It hasn’t transformed into a sorcerer before. It’s best we stick together on the off chance it can mimick more than appearance.”

Gojo’s jaw was clenched. Nanami had him backed into a corner with his logic, there was no refuting it. Whether splitting up or staying together, there would still be risks posed to you.

His eyes locked with yours, but he made it seem as he was talking to the both of you.

“Stick by me.”

“Mmm, Kento” your head fell back in pleasure as he laid kisses down your neck, the door to your shared penthouse apartment just closing behind you. His kisses were heated and lustful, bringing out a side of him only you had the privilege of knowing.

“I want you, badly.. need you right now,” he said through gritted teeth.

“Fuck, so take me,” you replied.

He picked you up, effortlessly as though you were weightless, carrying you to your bedroom. He plopped you down on the bed and you fell back against the silken sheets.

“You’re so beautiful. I’ve been thinking about this moment all day,” he confessed as he undid the buttons of your blouse. You helped him shrug it off your shoulders until it was discarded to the side. That left you in your bra, breasts spilling out of the tight cups, a lone nipple just managing to peek through the top. Nanami cursed, hardening at the nip slip. He couldn’t seem to help himself as he bent forward to kiss you again, the kiss festering into a passionate make out of tongues, the stream of salvia that connected the two of you even after you broke apart served as evidence for the heated exchange.

“Ken,” you whimpered, the jolt of heat between your thighs growing painful.

“I know, all in good time,” he cooed. He groped your breasts, squeezing them slightly so they spilled over in the cups, both nipples fully exposed now. His hands moved quickly to undo your bra, fully removing it now. His lips found yours again, and you moaned into the kiss as he massaged your sensitive breasts. With shaky hands, you began to unbutton his shirt, revealing his muscled torso. The kiss became hungrier as you palmed at his pants to undo his zipper, when your hand made contact with his hard on, he muttered a faint “oh fuck,” against your lips. He gently pushed you back so you were laid down on the bed fully as he positioned himself on his knees in front of you. Quickly, your lower half was undressed panties and all until you were completely naked before him.

“So beautiful,” he praised once again, his face inched forward and you knew what he was going to do, “and all mine,” he added before his tongue licked at your folds.

You gasped, grasping at the silken bedsheets to stabilize yourself as he continued to pleasure you. His fingers began to join in and between them and his tongue he was crafting a symphonic arrangement uniquely curated to you and all your sensitive parts. His fingers stimulated your clit while he lapped at your arousal which continued to flood, overflowing and dripping on his chin.

“Kento, yes..it feels so good,” you moaned. He picked up the speed and as he did your hands went from the bedsheets to his hair, in an effort to be even closer, you pressed his face against your sex. You cried out as you felt the friction from his frames against your vulnerable skin.

All the white he continued to lap, the lewd noises of your wet skin and his lips permeating the dark room.

“Ken-I’m so close,” you warned.

“So cum then, cum all over my tongue,” he panted before resuming.

His voice, so animalistic, so unhinged and unlike his usual composed self, set you on edge and you felt your toes curl as the familiar sensation of an orgasm overtook your body.

Gasping for air, you felt your body give out to the sweet release as below Nanami lapped it all up.

“Tastes. So. Good,” he said each word between laps, savoring it.

By this point, you had fallen fully back against the bedsheets, hands over your head, your ribs and breasts rising and falling as you caught your breath. The view of Nanami, glasses drenched with moisture, hair flopping out of its usual gel style, and mouth puffy and pink made your heart race. And it began to race even more as he stood up, undid his tie, and shrugged off his shirt you had unbuttoned. His glasses soon followed, revealing his stunning hazel eyes. Finally, his pants and boxers were discarded.

Although you and Nanami had been very sexually active these past two years, it still caught you by surprise how big his cock was. It was long and the girth was impressive, and his pink head was the same color as his lips.

“We’re not done yet,” he whispered, lining himself up with your sex. “Spread your legs even wider for me, love.”

You did as he asked and the glow of the city lights coming in from the window shining on his skin made him all the more handsome. You felt his mushroom tip fetter its way into your folds easily and you both moaned in unison at the skin to skin contact as he slid his length into you. When he completely bottomed out inside you, he paused for a moment, allowing himself to soak inside of your warmth.

“You feel so good,” he sighed in complete bliss. Throughout your relationship during your pillow talk and aftercare he had described being in you as being in a domain. All he could feel was you, as though all he was ever meant to do was be inside of you, every moment of his life all the hard work and hours he has put in as a salaryman and a sorcerer had been to lead him to this moment, soaking inside of you, his heaven and his relief. He rested his forehead against yours for a few moments, the two of you savoring the sensation and tension of the unprotected contact that felt just as good as the first time even after two years. Shaky breaths and whimpers were the only sounds in the room. That is, until he spoke again.

“Tell me you love me,” he requested,”need to hear it again.”

“I love you,” you replied, genuinely.

“I love you too,” he reciprocated.

He then began to thrust in and out of you, setting a steady pace. You felt his cock going in and out of you, each time more wet than the last as he coated himself in your arousal, the sounds of slapping skin echoing.

Your eyes rolled back in pleasure as he continued until all you could feel was Nanami.

All you could think of was Nanami..

“Nanami? Did you hear that?” you asked as the three of you combed through the halls of the warehouse. Gojo led further up front, having requested, no more like commanded, to take the lead.

Nanami paused, cocking his head to the side, his long blonde hair falling like a curtain in the same direction.

“I didn’t hear anything, but it’s safe to assume the curse knows we’re here now. It’s best that we all stick together,” he said somewhat pointedly at Gojo.

The corporate office was truly a sad sight, where it was once a place no doubt bustling with business, the lights no longer worked and the few bulbs that remained in use flickered, threatening to go out at any moment. The three of you were on the first floor, having walked through the lobby and several conference rooms, there was no sign of the curse.

Except, you had heard rustling, and you felt the hair at the back of your neck stand up as though you were being watched.

“Let’s move on to the second floor,” Nanami said before calling out,”Gojo let’s move on.”

Gojo was crouched down on the floor dipping his finger in a small puddle of water.

No, not water, upon further inspection it looked like..

“Blood. Cursed spirit blood by the looks of it,” he said as the purple liquid dipped down his finger.

“So it’s been wounded recently? From what?” You asked.

“Maybe a victim tried to fight back and managed to puncture it somehow. Perhaps there’s still a survivor or it’s taken hostages,” Nanami said, thinking through the logic, “either way it’s vulnerable which means-“

“It’s a whole lot more dangerous,” Gojo finished. He locked eyes with you again, and the look in them made you gulp. “I’ll go on ahead and search. Nanami, you stay with her.”

Not this again, it seemed as if he was determined to go at the mission alone, and no doubt it was because of you.

“We’ve been through this. Due to the curse’s ability it is more advantageous for us to remain as a group,” Nanami said.

“So take her back to the school. We all know I can handle it on my own. Then we don’t have to worry about it changing into one of the two of you,” Gojo said.

“Satoru, I'm staying here,” you said with finality.

That did nothing to dissuade him.

“This isn’t a sightseeing trip or low level mission. You could die!” He shouted.

His words were like cold water. You knew the skill difference between the two of you, but he had never made you feel inferior before.

“I knew the risks when I came on. We all know the risks of being a sorcerer,” you said, your lip shook a little.

Regret formed in his crystal eyes and he opened his mouth to speak again but whatever he was trying to say was drowned out by a shriek.

Your shriek, it took a second for you to register the sound and the fact that it wasn’t coming from your mouth.

It was the curse.

The three of you turned and down the hall stood an exact replica of you, a perfect imposter.

Gojo cursed, and you knew this is what he had been afraid of.

Nanami planted a kiss on your bare shoulder as you snuggled back against him in bed. The two of you were still naked from your love making and had taken to cuddling afterwards.

“Your skin is so soft,” he said, as his lips took to the curve of your neck up to the back of your ear, now making you laugh.

“I think part of the credit for that goes to you, you spoil me with all these fancy creams and lotions Kento,” you said.

It was true. Nanami was loaded, filthyfully so, but he was so humble about it one wouldn’t know it. It’s not that he didn’t enjoy luxury he did, but his form of luxury wasn’t branded items to show off to others, it was silent wealth, expensive items he enjoyed for their quality and longevity such as his watches or the rare edition books he was fond of collecting. Most of all, he loved to spend his wealth on you. Anything you even showed interest in was yours, the bathroom was stocked with luxury brands for you to use and he had gifted you more lingerie sets and clothing than you knew what to do with.

“Spoiling you gives me something to live for,” he said, nuzzling his face into your hair and breathing in the scent, “ask me for anything and it’s yours.”

You turned to face him, his eyes were so kind as they always were. That was something you had always enjoyed about Nanami, his eyes were kind towards all, but of course there had always been a certain fondness in them that was reserved for you. It had taken you embarrassingly long to notice that.

“I want you to not work yourself to death. You’re always saying I do that but you’re worse than me. You’re always going away on missions,” you said cupping his cheek with your hand.

“I can’t do that, dear. You and I both know the responsibilities of a grade one sorcerer,” he said.

Yes, you both did.

Perhaps it would have been a responsibility the two of you shared if it hadn’t been for you no longer continuing to practice your techniques and skills. Perhaps if you had only continued you could accompany him on these missions, instead you had opted to remain at the school teaching in class instruction only.

Ever since that day, that mission so long ago..

“Hey, I didn’t mean anything by it,” he said softly, he turned his head to kiss your palm. You dropped your hand, returning it at your side. You didn’t look at him.

Yes he didn’t mean anything by it, but this was a source of contention between the two of you. It was because of your guilt of not being able to accompany him on missions, your fear of losing him, and most of all the deep rooted shame you had in yourself for quitting.

Yes you could still practice now, get stronger and better, but was it worth it?

You had been out of the field for so long and you enjoyed the life you had now with Nanami. It was a life of comfort, stability, but still you wondered if there was more you could be doing. So now every time Nanami left, you worry about losing him. He did have a good work life balance but he was a man of conviction and principles who took his responsibilities so seriously that he wouldn’t hesitate to lose his life in an instance if it was for a higher calling, the thought scared you.

“You said ask you for anything I want, and that’s what I want,” you said in a small voice.

He chuckled slightly.

“No fair, sweetheart. You know I can’t deny you anything,” he said.

You moved closer, so your face was a mere few inches from his.

“So don’t, stay with me,” you whispered before kissing him.

He moaned into your kiss, and you could tell you were threatening all of his resolve.

“Fine, love. You get your wish. I cut back on the number of missions I take,” he said.

“But?” You pressed, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

“But?” He repeated.

“Do I have to do something in return?” you clarified.

He laughed.

“At a later date I’ll ask you for something in return. For now, let me enjoy being this close to you.”

The shriek still echoing in your ears, you didn’t have time to process anything as the curse disappeared from in front of you and a black sinking hole appeared underneath your feet.

Your own hands, duplicate imposter hands, grabbed at your feet and dragged you through the sinkhole. You heard Gojo call your name but it sounded so very distant.

When you got your bearings straight, you looked around and saw you were in a basement of sorts. The three of you hadn’t even thought to start with the basement! In fact the three of you hadn’t even thought there was a basement as most modern corporate offices no longer had any. It was a minor error, but a critical one all the same.

“Don’t try to run, it won’t help your friends,” the curse said in your voice.

It still looked like you, identical down to your shoes.

“I don’t have to run. They’ll find the basement soon enough,” you said.

You didn’t move as the curse dragged you by the arm and took you further back into the basement. To your surprise, there was an old automobile there. The curse took you around it, sat you down facing forward. It was then that you noticed some thick rope and a wad of duct tape there.

“Seems like you’ve thought everything through,” you said.

Now would be a good time to use your abilities.

But should you?

Perhaps the curse only copied what it could see. If you used your abilities would more danger fall upon you? Physical combat would be better, much safer.

The curse tied you up on the car leg while you debated this. You struggled against it and spat in your own face as it held up the duct tape.

That caused the curse to strike you in the face, and then put the duct tape on your mouth. Then it left you there.

Did it mean to steal your identity? Gojo and Nanami were smarter than that, they’d expect it. But it was clear the curse was operating on higher levels of intelligence than anticipated, it was scheming even.

“Stay here,” it spat at you as though you had any other option.

The curse then went back to the front of the basement.

You heard racing footsteps, Gojo’s footsteps.

“I got away but the curse it’s still out there!” You heard your voice shrillish, and authentic.

“Did you see where it went? Are you hurt?” Gojo asked.

No, something was wrong.. how could he not tell it wasn’t you?

Perhaps he was toying with the curse, letting it put its guard down.

You turned your neck and could see ever so slightly Gojo and yourself standing several feet away. The height difference between the two of you was more jarring from this perspective.

“I didn’t see where it went. I’m okay but it was so scary,” the curse said, still imitating you.

Gojo bent down pressing his forehead against yours.

“It’s okay. I’m here now,” he said.

To your horror the way he said it, in the soft tone reserved just for you, served as evidence that he had been duped.

But how?

Couldn't he sense it with his six eyes? What was going on?

Even more horrific he leaned forward and so did the curse as if to kiss their lips mere inches apart….

Suddenly, Nanami ran into the room and without hesitation used his sword to slice the curse in two, purple blood flying everywhere.

That’s when you began to cough up something sweet in your throat.

You heard the two young men arguing.

The last thing you heard before passing out was Gojo screaming your name…

You woke up at Jujutsu High a few days later, in the medical wing of campus.

“Hey, there’s our girl,” Shoko said, smiling at you. She was sitting at your bedside.

“Where’s Gojo?” you asked.

She ignored your question and touched your temple, causing you to relax instantly.

“Do you feel okay? I had to work long on you. I also wanted to keep a close watch on you it was a very interesting case study actually-“ she stopped, knowing her comments would only make you more curious.

“Shoko. Where’s Gojo?” You pressed.

She seemed hesitant as if she wasn’t sure how much she was at liberty to say.

“He came to see you several times. I can let him know you’re up. He should be here soon.”

She then left to do so, whipping out her cellphone.

It was odd.

The Gojo you knew would be here, at your bedside.

But day turned into night and he still didn’t see you.

For whatever reason you weren’t allowed out of the medical wing on Yaga’s orders apparently.

Three days past, and he still didn’t see you.

It was only on the fourth day when you woke up from one of the Shoko induced slumbers via sedation that you saw him standing there in front of your bed.

He looked like he had lost weight even though it had only been a few days. His shades fully covered his eyes.

“Why didn’t you come to see me? What happened? Was the mission successful?” Your mouth spilled out several questions without even thinking.

He was silent for a while before answering.

“The mission was successful. Nanami killed the curse easily. It evidently was on the brink of death already.”

“But?”

That’s when he explained. Truly explained.

The curse was unique in nature in that it had to suck the life force out of another organic being in order to survive. That’s why it had taken on the appearance of the missing children and lured family and friends. It fed off the feel good energy that the family and friends emitted upon thinking they found their loved one. Except here was the twist, the children died because their loved ones believed the curse was them. It was that transfer of energy that allowed the curse to add to its lifespan and in short take the energy from the person it was imitating. It was a leech in nature.

That’s why when the curse had been killed you had begun to choke as well because it had linked its life force to your own.

“But it had to have tricked you. Surely there’s something else, another ability it has to dull the senses and that’s why you thought it was me,” you said.

Because this truth was too difficult to accept. Satoru, your Satoru would know you anywhere wouldn’t he?

“That’s just the thing. I’ve racked my mind around it. There’s no ability, no reason why I of all people could have fallen for something so simple,” he turned away from you now, his back facing towards you, “the simple truth is I didn’t see it because I wasn’t looking.”

He then walked out of the room, despite you calling him to come back.

You chased after him but he was gone, vanished into the air.

In the subsequent days he was gone and when you asked Yaga, all he said was that Gojo had taken a leave from the school for personal reasons.

Days turned into weeks.

Weeks turned into months.

Months into years.

It was six whole years before you saw him again.

By that point you were in your early teaching career and he evidently had gone to the Kyoto school to finish his studies and become a great grade one sorcerer.

For a while you had dreams of him abandoning you, dreams of that day where everything changed…

a/n: if you read the whole thing thank you I always appreciate the time people spend to read my content. Any feedback is always appreciated as well.

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