#knife massage

[majihugs]

Missing Majima and his weird little moves ❤️

[doll-for-you-11]

Everyone reblog with the first ever thing that made you get into your hard kinks.

What happened to make you start liking the perverted, fucked up things you're into now?

[honeysucklethornsandalligtrhorns]

i think getting chopped up into itty bitty thin slices by one of those asian chef guys who cuts phallus-shaped vegetables with a really sharp knife would fix me.

[justashamwithwastedpotential]

AI Lance: My love! You're so adorable under the Winter Star lights. May I put a little bow on your head and call you my gift for this year?

AI Lance: My love! You're so beautiful. May I tie these ribbons around your wrists and adorn you so you look like a present all wrapped up?

AI Lance: My love! You're so perfect. You're a goddess whom I wish to worship for the rest of my life. May I put this knife against your jugular vein?

[widevibratobitch]

.

[professionallydeadinside]

Gaston has the same energy as a Great Dane in the rewrite, btw. Like, "I am smol, please hold me 🥺" whereas he is DEFINITELY NOT SMALL.

-Kirk anon

WOKSJSJEJKWKSC I LOVE THAT PLEASEEE LIKE THOSE GIANT DOGS WHO TRY TO BE LAP DOGS BUT ARE ABOUT 300 POUNDS

[gojonanami]

“ A HOUSE IS NOT A HOME ”

pairing: satoru gojo x reader

summary: you come home after a long day of work unable to find the person you call home anywhere — until you reach the bedroom.

warnings: 18+ suggestive, fluff, comfort, some angst, implications of the shinjuku showdown arc, implied gojo is no longer a sorcerer, gojo is your househusband, taking a bath together, taking care of him, copium really, satoru being a silly man

w/c: 1,184

“I’m home!”

You call into your home, the clatter of your keys and shoes as you shedded the things that chained you to the outside to submerge yourself in your oasis and into his arms. But as you got no reply, you stepped into your living room, scanning over the kitchen, to find no one.

Now where was your home?

“Satoru?” you called, heart skipping a slight beat, he was always waiting for you when you got home, usually on the couch or maybe in the kitchen the clank of the knife as he chopped away. Or even the many times that he was waiting by the door to only ambush you with kisses. But this time, nothing.

You rounded the corner to the hallway and peeked into your bedroom to find him asleep. You crept closer, careful not to wake him, and yup, he was fast asleep. His pretty snow white lashes resting against his cheeks, his chest slowly rising and falling as the soft sounds of his breaths parted his lovely lips.

You could watch him sleep for hours. You knew he never did enough of it before, and you’d argue he still didn’t do enough of it now. He always said he was fine sleeping 6 hours since it was twice as much as he usually got — and now he was working at home, so he could be ease.

But even so, you know he needed more.

As if he senses your thought, he stirs, starry blue eyes finding yours as he flutters sleep from his gaze, “sweetheart?” He’s murmuring, voice still beautifully raspy from sleep, “when did you get home?” He’s shifting to get up, but you use gentle hands to ease him back, “I haven’t started on dinner yet, sweets—“

“I got it, Toru,” you’re running your fingers through his hair, “just rest, baby,” and a protest is already on his lips, “let me guess what you did today — cleaned the house from roof to floor, stocked us on groceries, cooked lunch for me for the week, and probably a million other things,” you lean down to press a kiss to his forehead, “I think I can handle dinner for one night at least,”

He’s pouting now, “but you just got home from work, Princess, what kind of househusband would I be—“ and you can’t help but laugh, he loved his self appointed title of househusband, especially since it was one he had chosen for himself, and he took any opportunity — even now to call himself that.

“I think even the absolute best househusbands need a break, and should listen to their wives, since I’m the one you want to pamper so much,” and his lips party in protest, but you’re leaning down to kiss them and his pout away, “let me take care of you, Toru,”

He’s sighing, as he leans up to press his forehead to yours, “and does your offer include a bath, sweetheart?”

~~~

“Y’know sometimes I feel guilty,” and you pause in your massage of his head, fingers tangled in his hair, suds from the bath you’d drawn for him covering both of your bodies as he leans against you in your tub, back pressed flush to yours.

“Guilty about what?” you ask, holding your tongue on the million reasons why he shouldn’t.

“For so long, I was the strongest,” he gives a small chuckle, “and it was fun, sometimes. But it was mostly lonely,” he leans back to look up at you, a small grin on his lips, “except when I was with you,” your lips curl, “and now I get to be with you, and I get to stay home — and the worst thing I have to do are the dishes,” and you snort.

“I told you I’d do them if you hate them so much,”

But he’s shaking his head, “Sometimes I think trying to deal with our cast iron is worse than fighting Sukuna—“ and you roll your eyes, “but there’s always this urgency that I have to be doing more. Telling me to keep going, moving, fighting—“

“You’ve done enough, Toru, more than enough,” your fingers cup his cheek, “too much, honestly. It’s okay to rest now. You’ve done your part—“

“But—“

“Didn’t you or someone say jujutsu is like a marathon, a baton pass?” Your fingers run through his white locks, before you shift yourself to sit in his lap instead, “the marathon is over, racers have packed up and gone home, and the finish line has been crossed,” your fingers rest on the back of his neck, tracing his undercut, “and that’s because of you and all you did to fight and raise up the next generation,” you say softly, and he’s pressing his head to your forehead.

“Is it okay for me to rest now?” and you’re pulling him into your arms, hoping your touch conveys what your words can’t.

“Yes, it is, Satoru,” you’re pressing soft kisses to his neck, “you don’t need to be the strongest. You’re Satoru Gojo, and that’s all I want,” and he leans back, “you’re all I want,”

“Is that a proposal?” And you snort.

“We’re already married, weirdo—“ and his lips find yours, as they always did, his arms around your bare waist, as the water shifted and splashed, but you could barely feel anything except his lips against yours and the circle of his thumb against the small of your back.

He finally pulls away, a genuine smile on his lips, “And you married this weirdo,” and you chuckle, tracing his jaw with your finger, “you’re stuck with me for life,”

“Promise?” And he’s kissing you again in an instant, stealing your breath like he did the first time you met him all those years ago at jujutsu tech. And you knew you’d never love anyone else — not like him.

“Promise.”

Bonus:

Satoru’s arms wrap around you from behind as the two of you towel off after your bath, “what are we having for dinner?”

“Well someone insisted on me being in here with him, so I had to order out,” and he’s grinning, as he nuzzles your neck.

“Whoopsie, hehe,” and he’s humming, as he tugs your hips against his, the friction drawing a gasp from your lips, “can we have dessert first?”

“It is dessert. We’re having ice cream for dinner—“ and he’s kissing you again, but this time it’s languid and messy — all tongue and teeth, until he’s pulling away with a smirk at your breathless face.

“I want something sweeter, wife,” and you smile.

“Think you can finish before the delivery gets here?” And he’s already picking you up with ease in his arms, pinned under him in a moment, as his ocean blues flash with mischief from between your thighs.

“I can, but I don’t know if you’ll be done by then.” He says cheekily, as you only sigh.

If there was one thing that would always be true is that you would always be weak to Satoru Gojo — but not his abilities, but who he is.

Your husband.

“Let’s see, hm?”

a/n: I’m real upset about the leaks and this is my coping. I needed this.

taglist: @staryukis, @cloverlilies, @asgoodasdead666, @strawmariee, @chuuyasboots, @forest-fruits-jam, @catsgomurp, @rat-loves, @hanlay, @risuola, @spider-fan72, @sunamatic, @difficultdomains

[prompt-heaven]

the ultimate list of AUs, kinks and tropes to inspire you for kinktober 

some of these are darker in nature since that is fitting for the spooky season. 

AUs

academic / teacher / professor / tutor 

addams family

babysitter / nanny

bartender

biker

bodyguard

bonnie and clyde

bounty hunter

boxer 

camp counselor

circus / carnival

cult 

demon / angel

fairytale retelling

fantasy 

farmer

firefighter

guardian angel 

historical 

hybrid

mafia / mob 

magic 

maid / butler 

mechanic 

modern 

monster / mythology / supernatural

paranormal investigator 

pirate / mermaid

post-apocalyptic

priest

prison

rockstar 

royalty

serial killer

sex worker / porn / camgirl/boy / stripper 

slasher

soulmate

spy / secret agent

steampunk / cyber punk

sugar daddy

tattoo artist 

time travel

treasure hunter 

vampire

werewolf 

wild west

TROPES

a/b/o

against a wall 

age gap

amnesia / memory loss

anonymous sex

balcony sex

boss x employee 

brothers best friend / dad’s best friend (dbf)

car sex

cheating

clothed sex

comforting sex

coworkers to lovers

cursed / fuck or die / sex pollen

dark / soft!dark

enemies to lovers

exes to lovers

fake relationship

forbidden romance

friends to lovers

friends with benefits

game gone wrong

hate sex / make-up sex

huddle for warmth

just the tip

library sex

loss of virginity

mirror sex

neighbours to lovers 

only one bed

opposites attract

period sex

pool / hot tub sex

predator / prey

professor x student

public / semi-public sex

revenge sex

reverse harem

romantic sex

roommates to lovers

rough sex

seduction

sex in an alley

sex in exchange for a favour

sex while camping

shower / bath sex

stalker

stepcest

table sex

unrequited love

yandere

KINKS

aftercare

anal 

begging

being recorded / taking pictures

body worship

dom / sub / bondage / bdsm / shibari

breath play / choking

cheating

cockwarming

corruption kink 

costumes / uniforms

creampie / breeding / forced breeding

cuckolding

cum in panties

cumplay

cunnilingus / face sitting / rimming / blowjob / deep throating / gagging

dacryphillia

dirty talk / voice kink

double penetration / double penetration in one hole 

dry humping / thigh riding 

dubcon / noncon / cnc / drugging

dumbification

exhibitionism / voyeurism

fingering

fisting

flashing 

food play 

footjob 

forced orgasm

formal wear 

free use

glory hole

glove kink 

hand kink

handjob 

hole inspection

humiliation / degradation

hunter / prey

impact play / spanking / whipping / hair pulling / pain kink

jealousy / sharing / possessive

knife kink / gun kink

lingerie / stockings / socks

massage

masturbation / caught masturbating / mutual masturbation

medical kink

monsterfucking / tentacles

multiple orgasms

orgasm denial / overstimulation / edging

threesome / orgy / gangbang

partner swap 

pegging

piercings

pillow humping

praise kink 

premature ejaculation / cuming untouched

pussyjob

roleplay

role reversal

ruined orgasm / cuming without permission

sensory deprivation 

sexting / phone sex 

facial / swallowing / bukakke

size kink / size difference / belly bulge

skirt stays on

somnophilia / getting fucked to sleep

spit kink

squirting

stripping / lap dance

teasing 

temperature play

thigh fucking

throat training

titty fucking

toys / object insertion 

OTHER PROMPTS

a ritual gone wrong 

a string of unexplained deaths

a summer fling gone horrible wrong, or right

alian abduction 

art come to life

basement wife 

being paralysed 

blackmail 

caught trespassing on private property

college party gone wrong

crazy ex

curiosity killed the cat

fate worse than death

final girl

getting stranded in a little town that’s not as wholesome as it seems

ghostface

halloween party

haunted house / abandoned house 

haunted object 

hitch-hiking gone wrong

hot neighbour that has an obsession with you

i was sent here to assassinate you but now i think i might be in love with you

Items moving and/or going missing

i’ll find you in every universe / century

kidnapping

lost in a maze

mad scientist 

magical healing 

marriage / wedding / arranged marriage/ forced marriage 

mind control / telepathy

mirrors playing tricks on the mind

oh, you had a long day? use me as your personal sex toy in order to unwind

oops, i summoned a demon 

oops, i’m dating a serial killer

playing games (like seven minutes in heaven, spin the bottle, hide and seek, etc.) but they have a slutty/dark twist to them

possession (ghost or demon)

power outage

ritual / sacrifice / blood magic

road trip

secret room

serial killers fucking in front of hostages

stalker landlord

stalker wearing the same costume as your partner 

stockholm syndrome

the return of a villain thought dead

torture

toxic frat boy

waking up from strange dreams and seeing bruises and marks on your skin that correspond exactly with the dream you just woke from

we’re the last people on the planet and you will be mine

you wake up strapped to a table just as a fuck machine is turned on

[absurdthirst]

Kinktober 2024 Prompt List

Please feel free to share and use the list below. Or the header! This is only for anyone 18+ years of age, minors - please do not interact. Please feel free to tag me in any and all Kinktober stories that you post, I’m eager to read them. Have fun and have a wonderful Kinktober!

Handjobs // Temperature Play // Breast Worship

Piercing // Double Penetration // Voyeurism

Sixty-nine // Public Sex // Pet Play

Sensory Deprivation // Leather or Latex // Watersports

Rough Sex // Anal Beads // Bondage

A/B/O Heats or Ruts // Sadism-Masochism // Anonymous Sex

Bruising or Bitemarks // Virgin // Ice Play

Flogging // Swallowing // Cock Warming

Anal // Praise Kink // Food Play

Face Sitting // Lingerie // Overstimulation

Gags // Shaving // Knife Play 

Sex Toys // Dirty Talk // Breath Play

Pregnancy // Aftercare // Roleplay

Gangbang // Collaring // Candle - Wax Play

Hair Pulling // Glory Hole // Teasing

Nipple Play // Cock Worship // Lactation 

Squirting // Dom - Sub // Period Sex

Cockring or Plugs // Foot Fettish // Massaging

Suspension // Fisting // Mirror Sex

Infidelity - Cuckolding // Cunnilingus // Threesome

Gun Play // Monsterfucking // Shower - Bath Sex

Deepthroating // Thigh Riding or Fucking // Choking 

Licking // Degradation // Breeding 

Glove Kink // Masturbation //  Somnophilia

Pussy Slapping // Non Con - Dub Con // Titty Fucking

Pegging // Edgeplay // Seduction 

Lap Dances // Hate Fucking - Angry Sex // Breast Worship

Fucking Machine // Phone Sex // Impact Play

Branding // Hunter - Prey // Uniforms

Weight Gain // Object Insertion // Sex Pollen 

Free For All 

[hoshifighting]

hii lyla, can you do a smut reaction of them getting horny bc their s/o started massaging them?

e tbm, amo ler oq vc escreve pq me ajuda MUITO no inglês, beijos linda

Seventeen getting horny because you started massaging them.

a/n: que gracinha!! eu comecei assim!! fico feliz que te ajuda também 😭 🙏 um monte de beijoooos!

seungcheol lies on the bed, muscles aching from his recent workout. you decide to focus on his massive thighs, kneading the tight muscles with determined pressure. every groan you let out in effort sends a shiver down his spine. your hands inch closer to his groin, and he stiffens, feeling his cock start to harden. the combination of your groans and the proximity of your hands is too much.

suddenly, he grabs your wrist, stopping you with pleading eyes. “i... i can't take it anymore. please, i need you.”

jeonghan feels a rush of arousal the moment your hands touch his back. you’re straddling his hips, your fingers occasionally scratching his skin lightly with your nails. he bites his lip, fighting the urge to flip you over and take you right there. but he waits, knowing how you’d sulk if he didn’t let you finish the massage.

“are you okay?” you ask, noticing his tension.

he smirks, “just enjoying myself. keep going.”

joshua regrets agreeing to the massage as soon as your hands start gliding over his back. he shivers, his breath coming out in shallow pants. you haven’t even gotten into the massage properly, and he’s already struggling to control himself.

“are you teasing me?” he groans, turning his head to look at you with heated eyes.

junhui has the self-control of a monk. he lies there, letting you finish the massage without a word. but the moment you’re done, he grabs your oiled hands, pulling you towards him.

“now, it’s my turn,” he whispers, positioning himself above you.

hoshi is rock hard the second your hands start massaging him. whether it’s his thighs, arms, shoulders, or back, it doesn’t matter. your touch has this effect on him. he doesn’t even let you finish, flipping you over in the middle of the massage.

“fuck! ah–! you never let me finish,” you sulk between moans.

he thrusts into you, grinning. “can’t help it. your hands drive me crazy.”

wonwoo starts to doze off as you massage him, occasional groans escaping his lips. by the time you’re done, he’s turned onto his back, and you see the hard bulge straining against his shorts. he hisses slightly, his arousal almost painful.

“you really have that effect on me,” he murmurs, pulling you closer.

woozi really tries to hide his arousal, using a cushion on his lap or his hands to cover himself. but you notice the change in his moans, the way they get louder and more desperate.

“is something wrong?” you ask innocently.

he blushes, looking away. “i... you just feel so good.”

minghao is used to your massages. it's a comforting ritual in your relationship, one you both enjoy immensely. today, however, he’s feeling unusually horny and sensitive. your hands work expertly over his back, and he lets out a low, contented sigh.

“feels good?” you ask, smiling as you knead the knots from his muscles.

“yes, but today... it’s different,” he murmurs, shifting slightly.

you pause, sensing his arousal. “different how?”

he looks at you with a heated gaze. “i’m too horny. today is your day..."

mingyu's cooking when you come up behind him, massaging his shoulders through his shirt. he lets the knife rest on the cutting board, placing his hands on the counter and closing his eyes.

“mmm, that feels nice,” he murmurs.

you feel him tense slightly and ask, “what happened?”

he lets out an embarrassed moan, saying shamefully, “i’m... hard.”

you chuckle, wrapping your arms around his hips and palming him through his shorts. “looks like you need another kind of massage.”

seokmin loves your massages, always asking for one after practice. he usually falls asleep, but today is different. he just returned from tour, and when you offer a massage, he eagerly accepts. but instead of falling asleep, he feels the longing for your touch in a different way. his cock is rock hard, staining his white underwear with precum.

“for once, can we have a different kind of massage?” he asks, glancing at his erection.

seungkwan got hurt playing badminton and is now listening to you scold him while you massage his thighs. your hands graze his cock occasionally, not intentionally, but enough to make him groan.

“you always push your limits,” you scold, “and now look at you.”

he shifts, his arousal evident. “you can keep scolding me if you want to, but could you ride me, please?”

vernon is working on his music, hunched over his macbook at the hotel desk. you decide to help him adjust his posture and start massaging his shoulders. he closes his eyes, letting out a small sigh of relief.

“you need a break,” you exclaim, kissing his cheek.

he nods, mouth slightly open. “yeah, i do.”

noticing the bulge in his sweatpants, you smirk. “how about a special break?”

chan is tense about his work, massaging his temples as he places his computer on the center table. he throws himself on the sofa, still and tense. your delicate hands suddenly start massaging his shoulders, and he spasms before melting into your touch.

“you’re so tense,” you murmur, working out the knots.

he nodded, furrowing his eyebrows a bit. the night turned into you giving him head, your hands and mouth working to help him finally relax.

[gremlingottoosilly]

Bimbo!Reader who's convinced Pushover!Konig is just a big teddy bear of a giant

He literally beat up a guy who tried to hit on you, and you were fussing over him, ruining that pretty shirt you helped him choose. Konig has no sense of style or tact, and he is very sensitive to criticism - but this is where your inner critic is shutting up, and you just fuss over him like he is just an overgrown baby.

Konig feels like your fussing over him is a bit embarrassing and generally a humiliating process, but he doesn't care - not as long as he can feel your hands on his face when you're wiping away the blood. You're adorable, fucking precious, and he can't wait to ruin you - just as soon as you'd stop being so dense about his hints...but you won't stop, and he finds himself in a weirdly wholesome relationship. It might be that you're just too dumb to see the signs, but he kinda likes your immunity to red flags - and besides, he is smart for the both of you...and likes being cared for too much. You drag him over to your favorite cafe, and he forces himself to stop thinking about fingering you under the table. You would probably allow him, especially while you're wearing a skirt that barely covers your ass and your cleavage is deeper than the knife wounds he used to inflict on his opponents, but he is far too nervous for this. Doesn't want to appear weird, even as you scoot closer to him and ask what he thinks about the necklace you bought with the money he gave you. He stares at the little space orb settled perfectly on your tits. He gulps. Konig probably needs to stop excusing himself in the middle of your dates to jerk off in a public bathroom, but the other possibility would be fucking you senselessly and making you even dumber than you already are...and it's not really an option. He keeps telling himself that he is not weird, but he allows you to sleep on his chest when you're too tired to go home after a movie night, and then he'd massage your tits for the rest of the evening. He keeps telling himself that he is not weird, but it's easier for him to snatch your panties and use them for masturbation than actually asking you to fuck him. The worst thing is - you trust him. You look at him with your precious shining eyes, and you act like he isn't a fucking war criminal who can snap your neck in a second. You give him too much power, trusting him so blindly - he knows he is going to snap one day. Like a rope slowly untangling from its threads. Like a metal cable that is going to escape your arms and cut through the soft skin of your palms.

[6esiree]

I always love to imagine that whenever human Alastor has had a long day, he loves coming to your shared home and fucking the absolute shit out of you 😍

Imagine Human Alastor…

• Making his presence known by slamming the front door shut, the wooden foundation of your shared home slightly shaking from the forcefulness of the act. You’re frightened at first, but when you realize it’s just your husband, you calm down and resume dinner, completely oblivious to what he has in store for you.

• Rushing towards the kitchen, the floorboards creaking underneath his hurried footsteps. You put down your knife and turn around to greet him with a ‘Hello, sweetheart!’ but then he snatches your arm, a yelp escaping your throat as he pushes you down face-first onto the dining table, your cheek squashed against the tablecloth.

• Swiftly flipping your skirt up and yanking your panties down to your feet, one strong hand binding your wrists together behind your back, the other desperately unfastening his pants. ‘Al, did something happen?’ You try to ask, concerned, but then he prods at your entrance with the head of his cock, eliciting a moan from you.

• Slowly pushing past your folds, your eyes fluttering shut and your mouth falling open with a cry as he stretches you, your cunt clamping around him. He barely gives you time to adjust, pulling out completely and slamming back into you with a strangled groan. ‘Long day,’ He eventually admits through gritted teeth.

• Encouraging you to lift your leg up over on the table, putting your cunt on full display for him. ‘Suck,’ He demands as he leans over your body, placing two fingers against your lips. You obediently comply, opening your mouth and sucking them eagerly. ‘Good girl,’ He sighs, staring at you with raw, utter adoration.

• Reaching down with his saliva-coated fingers to massage your neglected clit, so swollen and sensitive, his brows knitting in concentration as he angles his hips a certain way and abuses your g-spot at an unforgiving pace. ‘Wait, Al, no!’ You gasp, trying to free your arms, but he only chuckles and tightens his grip on your wrists.

• Watching in gratification as your mouth falls open in a series of desperate pleas, your body helplessly writhing underneath him and your cunt convulsing around his cock. ‘Oh, darling, look at the mess you’re making,’ He groans, the sight of liquid cascading down your trembling thighs bringing him closer to the edge.

• Letting up on you only till he’s finished, burying himself deep into you, emptying his load and assuring that not a single drop goes wasted. When he pulls out, he even gathers whatever tries to escape and pushes it back into your entrance with his fingers. ‘There we go,’ He hums, affectionately patting your wet, puffy cunt, making you jump.

• Helping you put your panties back on, savoring the way you stand stiffly before him afterwards, his cum uncomfortably pooling in between your legs. ‘You’ll make a great mother,’ He says nonchalantly, grabbing your chin and leaning down, craning his neck to place a tender kiss on your lips. You just stand there, stunned.

[b1gtimerush]

actions speak louder than words non - verbal / action prompts from yours truly. (add a "swap" to swap the sender/receiver in the prompt (or just do it manually).)

back, sender gives receiver a back hug.

beckon, sender beckons receiver closer with a finger.

blood, sender cleans blood off of receiver.

book, sender helps receiver get a book from a higher part of the shelf.

care, sender takes care of receiver when they're sick.

catch, sender catches receiver by the waist after they bump into each other.

choke, sender saves receiver from choking by giving them the heimlich.

cold, sender places their jacket over receiver's shoulders.

cry, sender wipes tears off receiver's face with their thumbs.

dance, sender sticks a hand out to receiver and invites them to dance.

dip, sender skinny dips in front of receiver and invites them to join.

dog, sender's dog pulls them in receiver's direction.

drive, sender drives receiver somewhere in their car.

drag, sender drags receiver into a room and closes the door behind them.

draw, sender draws receiver like one of their french girls.

face, sender turns receiver's face towards them.

flower, sender gives receiver a flower.

footsie, sender initiates footsie with receiver under the table.

forehead, sender presses their forehead against receiver's.

grab, sender grabs receiver's wrist to stop them from leaving.

jump, sender jumps onto receiver's back.

kiss, sender kisses receiver.

link, sender links arms with receiver while walking.

massage, sender offers receiver a massage.

patch, sender patches up receiver's wounds.

piano, sender teaches receiver how to play the piano.

pin, sender pins receiver's hands behind their back.

pluck, sender plucks something out of receiver's hair.

press, sender presses receiver against a wall.

propose, sender proposes to receiver.

quiet, sender gestures for receiver to be quiet.

rest, sender rests their head on receiver's shoulder.

serenade, sender serenades receiver with a song.

sign, sender walks into a sign and receiver sees.

size, sender measures the size of their hand against receiver's.

shoes, sender removes receiver's shoes for them.

sun, sender rubs sunblock onto receiver's back.

tattoo, sender gives receiver a tattoo.

tie, sender helps tie receiver's tie.

tuck, sender tucks receiver's hair behind their ear.

umbrella, sender lets receiver under their umbrella.

warning, sender presses a knife against receiver's neck as a warning.

zip, sender needs receiver's help to zip up the back of their dress.

[shadowcitrine]

If you do That Again--

DarlyxReader 912 words

Warnings: Some language.

Timeline: Not important, season 1-ish

Summary: Daryl is tired of listening to you blowing hair out of your face.

Darly stopped dead in his tracks, his jaw tightening as he glared over his shoulder. “Do tha’ one more time…” His tone is low and threatening, clearly irritated, but there wasn't a reason for it. 

Passing on his left you asked, “What crawled up your ass and died, Dixon?” 

Daryl chewed on the words brewing behind his teeth and marched forward. Why he was pissed off this time was a mystery. Up until now every single one of his demands to be out here with him had been followed to the letter. You'd kept quiet, stayed right on his heels and avoided every single stick you two had come across for at least the last half mile, which for you was a considerable win.

If you'd known he was going to be such an ass you wouldn't have asked to come. With the way he's been acting all day it would have been better to be bored sitting back at camp than deal with the king of grumpy walking buddies. What was worse is his foul mood was starting to rub off on you. Blowing a puff of air upwards you followed the lock of hair flying out of your field of view.

Daryl stopped again this time spinning on his heel. Eyes hard and narrowed, jaw jutting forward he seemed to be sizing you up. The last thing you wanted on this hell hike was to argue but you could see it brewing, unsaid words threatening to burst forward.

“What now?!” You snapped. Quick soured jerks of his head made you feel uneasy, doubly so when his hand went to rest on his knife hilt. The group had warned you about his temper but you'd overlooked that because he was kind of cute when he frowned. 

“All damn day!” He sneered. When you furled your eyebrows in confusion he puffed out his cheeks puffing little breaths between pursed lips. “Fuckin’ sick a’ it!”

“Oh! I'm sorry that the apocalypse didn't come with a thirty pack of elastic hair ties! I can't help the fact that I need to see!”

Daryl shook his head again, fist clenching around the hilt of the blade as he began pulling it out. “Come ‘ere.” He was going to butcher your hair, hack it off just because he was having a shitty day!

“No!” taking a step back away from him you gaped. “I'm gonna let you cut off all my hair!” 

“Ain't cuttin’ your damn hair! Come ‘ere!” he hooked a finger at you. “Gonna stop this shit ‘fore you drive me outta my damn mind.” Daryl is many things but a liar isn't one of then. Taking a cautious step forward ge tucked the blade between his teeth and pulled some string from his pocket. “Tur’ roun’.” 

A tiny gasp left your lips a smile tugging at the corners. “Are you going to do my hair?”

He took the blade from his lips, not an ounce of joy to be read. “Turn ‘round ‘fore I change my mind and saw it off your thick head.” He shoved the string at you. “Hold tha’.” When you didn't move right away he tucked the blade back between his teeth and grabbed your shoulder to spin you around.

He was actually going to do this. No longer facing him you didn't try to tamp down the nerves making goose flesh spreading down your arms. Expecting rough movements for a quick ponytail you were confused when he started sectioning your hair gently freeing tangles from it as he went. 

“Ow!” a sharp pinch at your scalp made you wince.

“Sto’.” The fat syllable sounded wrong in his mouth but you obeyed. He was deft but through fingertips massaging away the sharp pulls of tangles. You hair pulled tight at the back of your head, his actions pulling it backwards causing a strain to keep it upright for a moment. He reached over your shoulder, fingers snapping when you didn't hand him the red piece of dyed twine right away.

Handing it to him you asked, “What did you do to it? Can I see?”

He reached around and used two fingers to guide your face forward again. “Gonna fuck it up if you keep movin’.” Knuckles brushed your upper back, accidental but welcomed and you closed your eyes pretending not to hear the sound of something small snapping. “There! No more listenin’ to you huffin’ and puffin’ all damn day.” He moved away.

“How does it look?” you reached behind touching it, feeling your way down. He'd braided it. There was no stopping the grin that broke out as you pulled the tail over your shoulder to inspect his work. He'd tied off the end tightly finishing the red string with a tiny little bow. “Daryl!” 

“Ain't perfect but it'll hold. Keep it outta your-”

“It's so cute!” Suddenly seeing your inspection wasn't as important as the trees around him. You stepped around him bending to try and catch his eyes. “You even did a bow!” you held the end out for him to see.

“Stop!” the tops of cheeks were pink and while you could pretend it was from the heat you knew that wasn't it.

He started marching away and you ran ahead to try to make him look. “You made it all girly!” you teased. His cheeks were getting redder by the second.

“Stop!”

“Daryl Dixon braided my hair!” you sang out.

“Shut up woman!”

[perlelune]

Play with Fire | Feyd-Rautha

Your secret tryst with the na-Baron should have ended the moment you returned to your betrothed on Caladan. And it would have, if your lover was willing to let you go.

Warnings: NON-CON, Knife Play, Blood Play, Breeding Kink, Jealousy, Cheating, Blackmail, Murder, Slight Paul Atreides x Reader, Incest

This is a dark story. Heed warnings before reading under the cut.

A raspy moan erupts from Feyd-Rautha’s throat as your slick walls squeeze around his hard cock. Your head tosses back, pleasure swirling through your core. Your nails rake across his sculpted, ivory chest and he purrs. You bury them in his flesh, scattering crimson lines across his skin. His hands curl around your hips as he thrusts into you more vigorously. You dig your heels into the rumpled sheets, your mind blanking as his pelvis massages your bundle of nerves.

You chew on your lip, willing yourself to be more quiet. The most arduous task considering the mind-blowing sensations coursing through your heated flesh. Your reputation hinges upon it. If anyone brushed past the na-Baron’s chambers and recognized your voice…you would be ruined. 

What a lewd picture the two of you must paint from afar. You, a proper lady from a noble house of Caladan, riding Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen’s cock with wanton abandon, your dress bunched around you, sweat glistening off your panting frame. The Harkonnen heir-designate is in quite a disheveled state himself, grunting below you, his dark gaze hazy with lust. 

“You are a goddess, my darling,” he lauds.

The echo of his gruff baritone ripples across your skin. Feral need bleeds from his words, his ravenous gaze riveted to your writhing form above him. It’s evident the na-Baron is basking in this sight, his tongue flicking through his lips every once in a while. The trail of his dusky eyes goes from your bouncing chest to your entrance, greedily sucking every inch of his length.

“Then fuck me like a god would,” you dare him with a smug smile. A risky move, particularly considering how deep inside you he already is, pulling broken moans from you each time his taut hips meet yours. But you want to push his buttons even more, see how far you can take it. 

Grazing the flickering candlelight isn’t enough. You want a blazing inferno to engulf you whole. 

You cock your eyebrow and sneer, “I expected more from such a great warrior.” You grab the long silver dagger lying beside him. Feyd-Rautha hardly goes anywhere without a deadly weapon nearby. His bed is no different. You push the tip against his throat. “Fuck me as if your life depended on it, na-Baron…because it does.” 

Most men would cower at such words. But Feyd-Rautha isn’t most men. A wild glint of excitement blooms in his orbs. His throat bobs, a look of satisfaction so intense crossing his features, you wonder if he’ll spill himself inside you right at that moment. 

He welcomes the threat upon his life like the most wondrous gift, making no move to shirk away from the sharp edge kissing his throat. Bliss decorates his features as you nick him in various spots with the blade, lingering so he feels every ounce of the sting when his flesh is sliced. Your blade curves meticulous patterns in his ivory flesh, drawing raspy moans and elated growls from him. You spread your hand across his chest, pressing your palm into the fresh wounds. Dark blood is smeared across his pale chest. The na-Baron moans at your touch, the pain delighting him. He embraces it as much as the pleasure. Perhaps even more.

He accepts the challenge you give him. A squeal shoots through your lips as he flips your bodies, forcing you on your stomach. He pushes the flowing fabric of your dress up until your dripping folds are bare to him. A shiver of anticipation courses through you when his thick tip presses against your weeping entrance. The blade slips through your fingers, a soundless scream parting from your throat when he slams his cock into you from behind. 

The metallic taste of your own blood rains on your tongue when you bite your lip, confining every sound fighting to be unleashed. He wraps his hand around your nape, shoving your head into the mattress, allowing you no time to gather your breath. Each of his thrusts is brutal and unforgiving. He ruins your walls without a care. You find yourself almost wishing you didn’t agitate the beast inside him. Almost. If the sinful dance of torment and bliss weren’t so entrancing, perhaps you would regret it. 

His muscular frame covers yours. His scorching breath glosses over the back of your neck as he inquires, “Does my cock meet your high standards, my Lady?”

Your chest heaves as you whimper underneath him. You are so delirious with both pain and pleasure that it’s hard to even think coherent words, let alone utter them. Feyd tears you from your haze with a pointed pinch on your swollen bundle of nerves, making you cry out.

“It’s…a-adequate, my Lord,” you stutter between panting breaths. 

“Just adequate?” he scoffs. “Well, this will not do.”

Determined to have you choke on every taunt you threw at him, the na-Baron isn’t satisfied until you’re passed out underneath him. He finds his release as your walls spasm around him. Even as you’re on the cusp of collapse, you urge him to pull out, coaxing him to spill himself over your belly. A sliver of annoyance passes over his features before he surrenders to your wishes. Relief fills you when his warm, sticky seed coats your stomach.

You doubt your fiancé would respond well to you returning with a Harkonnen bastard growing in your womb.

As you wipe yourself with a damp cloth on the edge of the bed, you inform, “My mother and I are returning to Caladan tomorrow.” He doesn’t acknowledge you at first, sitting with his leg bent, completely unabashed in his nakedness. You let your gaze roam over his smooth, hairless muscled flesh. It’s a pleasant sight, one you commit to memory. You’ve enjoyed your time with the na-Baron. And not only did you enjoy yourself, you’ve shed the fear you harbored regarding your wedding night. You loathed the idea of being some shivering, terrified maiden before your husband. You long for more. Giving pleasure but also receiving it. Reciprocity. 

Feyd’s head turns. His alabaster face betrays no emotion. He observes, “This was a brief trip.” He tilts his head. “Must I expect your next visit to end as swiftly?”

Mirth tugs the corners of your lips skyward. You crawl towards him.

“There will be no more visits.”

His  jaw ticks.

“Is that so?”

You cup his cheek and state, “I am to be married soon.”

A hint of possessiveness flashes across his stony features. Subtle, but there nonetheless. You’ve learnt to decipher the minute shifts in his expression in the two weeks you have spent on Giedi Prime.

He snickers.

“To some lesser man, I reckon.”

You bend over his shoulder. A teasing lilt sneaks into your voice.

“Are you seized by jealousy, my lord, consumed with burning rage at the thought of another man touching me in the ways you have…” Your lips graze his earshell. “Perhaps even being inside me?”

His hand shoots out to clasp around your throat. 

“Jealousy is for the weak,” he grates, his cheek pulsing. You smirk. Stoking the flames of his ire often yields…interesting results.

“Then does that make you your weakness, na-Baron?” you jest boldly.

The hand around your throat tightens, impeding your airways. A whine escapes through your lips. He hauls you off the bed and shoves you onto the floor.

“Darling…” he warns, his grip around your neck unwavering. “You speak too much when your mouth should be full of me. On your knees.”

You scowl at his imperious inflection but comply regardless. This is your last encounter with Feyd-Rautha. The last time you bend to his whims. While you’re not fond of his tone, you can discard your disgruntlement for a brief time. 

You wrap your fingers around his length. Your dauntless gaze rises to meet his as you start planting kisses along the dark, swollen tip of his pale cock.

“Your wish is my command, my Lord na-Baron,” you whisper teasingly.

You never expected to entertain a secret affair with Feyd-Rautha of all men. For the entirety of your girlhood, you heard horror stories about the Harkonnen, how ruthless and cruel they are, how their wasteland of a planet is a cold, inhospitable rock. 

So when your mother announced the two of you would be going on a diplomatic trip to Giedi Prime, you weren’t thrilled. In fact, fear surged through you that day. You kept picturing some awful thing happening as soon as you landed. You thought it to be a punishment, and wondered if perhaps you had offended Leto Atreides and his family in some form without realizing it.

However your parents explained the idea stemmed from a clumsy attempt at quelling the long-standing rivalry between House Atreides and House Harkonnen. Keep those tensions from building into an all-out interstellar war.

While Duke Leto Atreides will not risk his son’s life for a last ditch attempt at peace, the lives of members of a House Minor who swore him allegiance many years ago are more…expendable you suppose. 

It is how you, daughter of an Earl with close ties to house Atreides, found yourself on Giedi Prime. Your father voiced his hopes that your sweet disposition would rub off on Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen as he bid you goodbye. 

Perhaps that plan worked a bit too well. 

You barely understood how it happened. How your path and Feyd-Rautha’s collided in such an...unexpected way. 

It all started the day you watched him - admired him truly - through your binoculars as he performed in the gladiator arena. That day, a hundred doors opened up inside you, each clamoring to be crossed. Like a castle brimming with rooms you never explored. 

The spectacle of death should have repulsed you. Instead, you found his bellicose dance over the sand as the crowd cheered him on fascinating. You were unable to tear your gaze away that day. Inexplicably drawn to something twisted and sick you shouldn’t crave, yet did anyway. You found yourself wondering if those deft, pale fingers are as apt with…other things as they are with blades. It kept you awake at night and obliterated every other thought. How he’d be like. What he tasted like. What it would take to coax out that ferocity you saw in the arena in wildly different circumstances. That strange, irresistible force kept pulling you into his orbit.

So one day, you surrendered to it and snuck into his chambers, offering him your maidenhood. And he took it without hesitation.

In a life in which every decision is made for you, either by your mother, or your father or the Bene Gesserit…It is freeing to finally make a choice for yourself, one that only serves you and not the ends of a mysterious sisterhood whose obscure prophecies mean nothing to you.

However, while you have plucked a modicum of gratification from this affair, it must end. For not only are you spoken for but, during your time on Giedi Prime, you have borne witness to the depth of the na-Baron’s heartlessness. 

While you admire his prowess in the arena, you resent his disregard for human life. You’ve trembled as you watched him slaughter servants to test the sharpness of his weapons, slice a cook’s throat for bringing him a meal he found under-seasoned or not warm enough, gut innocent bystanders simply because he had the impulse to do it. 

Feyd-Rautha is a mercurial beast. A prime example of the Harkonnens’ capacity for unprovoked, gratuitous violence. 

Therefore a flurry of comfort flows you through at the prospect that you’ll be going home soon, back to Caladan’s familiar, flourishing landscapes. Whatever thrill the affair elicited before is beginning to wear off. You long to be home and return to your fiancé.

However that sense of peace crumbles when you return to your chambers that night and find your mother waiting for you on the bed. You smooth out the wrinkles in your dress. It’s useless. The evidence must be all over you because she stomps in your direction, a wild look of rage distorting her usually demure features.

“Have you lost your sanity?” she roars.

You shake your head, feigning ignorance.

“Mother, I have no idea-”

It’s not until the sharp ringing of your mother’s palm flying across your face fills your ears that you realize that she just hit you, the searing sting of pain spreading belatedly. Almost like time stood still in the crux of that instant, leashed by your shock and disbelief. Your mother has never laid hands on you before. Not even once.

Your wide eyes find hers.

She shakes a berating finger at you.

“Do not lie to me, child. How many kinds of an idiot do you believe me to be?” Your mouth shudders as you clutch your throbbing cheek. The strength with which your mother struck you still pulses right below your fingertips. “You even reek of his foul stench. My own flesh and blood…smelling like a filthy Harkonnen whore.”

Your face burns, from both pain and shame.

“You foolish girl.” Her gaze narrows as she leans back, gulping a wide lungful before speaking again. “After your father and I moved the heavens to secure a worthy match for you?” She shakes her head. “You are lucky we are leaving tomorrow and that your father will not hear a word of this.” She pauses, sadness and disgust tinging her tone. “You were such a sweet, kind little girl, so curious and clever, always clinging to my skirts…” Your mother sighs. “So dutiful. What mistake did I make in raising you for you to become such an utter disappointment?”

Your heart shrinks under her accusing glare. A sheet of guilt pervades you as you fall silent, finding no word to stand up to your mother. She is right. Reality crashes over you. You were in a haze, a lust-driven fog. Now you’re wide awake, as if a bucket of freezing water was poured over you. You have besmirched yourself and your house, tossing away your virtue for…what? Ephemeral moments of delight. The more you mull over your actions, the more you realize how impulse-driven and dangerous they were…that all of it was a mistake. 

Your mother’s words drop a hot stone of shame in the pit of your stomach, one that remains lodged inside you even as you land on Caladan. Not a single word is exchanged between the two of you in the brief time you sit together in the starship transporting you back home. Instead, a heavy silence rife with animosity fills the air. 

You’re grateful Feyd-Rautha is notably absent the day of your departure. You don’t have the fortitude to peer at him, face your mistakes. And it’s what he is. The walking, breathing embodiment of your mistakes.

So in the ephemeral span of time required for time and space to fold and bring you back home, you sink back into your role of virtuous and demure lady of your house.

As you and your parents disembark, you let your eyes soak in Caladan’s beautiful landscapes. Lush, green plains fill your sight, their familiarity sending a wave of calm through you. Finally, you’re home. Light-years away from bloodthirsty warriors and caliginous planets with blotted skies rife with smoke and pollution. You are ready to bury the entire ordeal behind you and return to normalcy.

Expectedly, the Atreides clan is there to welcome you and your parents back home.

A small smile appears on Paul’s face when your gaze lands on him. Your stomach knots as you return it. He can never learn what occurred on Giedi Prime. That secret will follow you to your grave. You approach him, pointedly ignoring your mother’s sizzling stare.

Her apprehension permeates through you even from where you are. There can be no other mistakes. 

Your match with Paul Atreides must be a success. For both your house’s sake and the safe continuation of the Bene Gesserit’s breeding program. The pinnacle of centuries of scheming and puppeteering from the shadows. Your mother impressed it upon you many times over the years. How the purity of the bloodlines must be preserved. How all of it serves to bring humanity closer to its age of enlightenment. And while you are not so conceited to believe you will bring forth the long-awaited Kwisatz Aderach…you understand your role in producing an offspring that perhaps may nudge the sisterhood closer to that goal. 

You suppress the tremor in your hand as your cousin plucks your hand to kiss the back of it. 

“May we walk together for some time?” he inquires. 

Relief swells inside you. Chatting away from prying ears is a welcome prospect, the combined scrutinies of both your families flaring your nerves. You can even feel Lady Jessica’s attention on you now. What if your mother’s half-sister saw right through you? Your aunt’s sharp Bene Gesserit’s senses have always stirred a vague unease within you. Today even more so, as you choke on so many secrets you can barely breathe.

“With pleasure,” you respond, accepting his hand as he guides you away from the welcoming committee. 

The two of you engage in a tranquil stroll across the grassy field. 

“I trust your journey went well, cousin,” Paul says.

Flashes of torrid nights spent in a bed you shouldn’t be in force their way inside your mind. You quell the pesky memories, your brows knitting. 

You coax a demure smile onto your features.

“It was a…learning opportunity. One I wholly embraced.” 

Naturally, you spare your soon-to-be husband the details of what it is you learned and with who.

Your fiancé nods. 

“It sounds delightful.” His green eyes soften as he mumbles, “You were missed.”

“By you, my Lord?” you beam, happiness fluttering through you.

Over the last few months, since the official announcement of your betrothal, your fondness for Paul grew the more time you two shared. The crush you harbored for him as a child blossomed into more, his kindness and nobility of heart winning you over. But you never expected him to reciprocate those feelings. 

A hint of pink dusts Paul’s cheeks. Straightening his spine, he clears his throat.

“Many…including myself,” he answers evasively.

Your smile widens. “I would hope my betrothed noticed my absence.”

Warmth rushes through you as replies, his tone dropping, “It was definitely noticed, my Lady.”

He suddenly falls quiet. Thoughts seem to lurk in his mind, causing a deep frown to carve his brow.

Concern tickles your insides.

“Is something troubling you, my Lord?”

He hesitates, his thin lips squeezing before he reveals, “Mother believes I should take you as concubine, not as a wife, in case another marriage prospect presents itself to me.”

You ponder his words. It does not surprise you coming from your cunning aunt, that she would encourage her son to keep his options open the way his father did. A sliver of bitter disappointment percolates through your chest. Being Paul Atreides’ concubine would have its range of perks. You could stand beside him, share his bed and perhaps even a genuine love one day. One as deep and true as the one his parents have nurtured for years.

But it would also mean that while you’d undeniably be his, Paul would never truly be yours…that he could become someone else’s overnight to secure some treaty or alliance with another house.

Still, you conceal the panic rushing through you with a meek nod.

“It would be a clever move,” you say. You hold his eyes. “What did the Duke say?”

“That he regrets not making my mother his Duchess everyday.” 

He seizes your hands, his fingers curling tightly around yours. Determination steels his olive gaze. “I do not wish to repeat my father’s mistakes,” he states. 

The worry building inside you is stifled by his soft reassurance. 

“That is a relief to hear, my Lord.”

As Paul’s fond gaze rests on you however, guilt creeps inside you once more, your mind wandering to the debauchery you surrendered to on Geidi Prime. Self-loathing fills you.

You tear your hands from his, your focus tumbling to the ground.

“Are you unwell, my Lady?” he asks, his tone dripping with concern.

You shake your head, giving a false smile.

“It’s nothing. I was simply lost in my thoughts,” you lie.

Interest blooms in his green orbs. “Would you care to share them with me?”

The blood in your veins freezes. You pale to think how Paul, your beloved, his beautiful eyes overflowing with love and trust, would look at you if he knew. The mere thought makes you queasy. He can never know.

“I was simply overwhelmed with excitement at the thought of our union, my Lord.”

He accepts your explanation without a shadow of doubt in his eyes. He takes your hands in his again, fervently promising, “I am aware that greater forces may have rushed our union, but I want you to know. I will love and cherish you with my whole heart.”

For several days, you get to bask in your renewed peace, finding solace in returning to your habits and focusing on the wedding preparations. While your mother’s coldness remains, you don’t let her behavior cast a pale on your happiness. Besides, she will be compelled to acknowledge your efforts over time, how much you strive to do nothing but bring pride to your house. You may have faltered on Giedi Prime, yielded to your baser instincts. But it is all in the past. 

The dusky planet will fade. Feyd-Rautha will fade. And soon, memories of your life with Paul will replace those fleeting moments of weakness. 

So, for a while, all is well, your mind at rest and your spirits lifted. All is well... until nothing is.

Until a handmaiden brutally tears you from your slumber one morning.

“My lady, you must awake now,” she whispers, urgency laced in her tone.

“Arisha…The Devil himself must sleep at this hour,” you groan, burying your head in your soft, comfortable pillow.

A Harkonnen ship just pierced through the Caladan exosphere. Its landing is imminent.”

Dread shoots through you.

The news has you leaping out of bed, abruptly hurling you into a state of complete wakefulness.

You whirl towards her.

“A Harkonnen ship?” you screech, your voice wavering. 

“Yes, my Lady,” Arisha confirms.

Your mind throbs as alarm pulses through you. A Harkonnen ship…here on Caladan? This isn’t just strange. It is unprecedented.

“Help me get dressed, at once,” you command, already shedding your nightgown.

You rush to get ready, joining your family as they hop on an aircraft to reach the landing site. Your chest is tight the entire time.

When you arrive, a striking scene welcomes you. On one side of the large landing strip, the Atreides army stands proudly, flanking the Duke and his family, while on the other there is a Harkonnen battalion, accompanied by a large swarm of Sardaukar soldiers.

A thick layer of tension coats the air, so palpable you feel its weight on your skin as you join the Atreides’ side. Both sides are poised for battle, ready to draw their weapons and unleash hell if need be. The fresh morning Caladan breeze is heavy with the threat of imminent bloodshed. Your gaze drifts to the mighty Duncan Idaho. The swordmaster’s face is uncharacteristically stern, the usual cockiness he dons gone from his features.

You swallow past the dryness in your throat.

You pivot to Thufir Hawat, the Atreides’ mentat. A hushed question rushes through your lips. “Thufir, how much will it cost them, traveling this far from Giedi Prime to Caladan?”

The mentat’s orbs gloss over with a white veil as his genetically altered mind runs calculations faster than any regular human could. Within a few seconds, he supplies a precise answer. “Two guild navigators, a total of one million two hundred ninety thousand fifty three and a quarter solaris round trip, my Lady.”

You release a quivering breath. The cost of the trip alone has a pang of foreboding twist your insides. Who squanders such a vast amount of solaris over a courtesy visit in enemy territory? 

Only a fool or a madman would do such a thing.

Your eyes travel across the field. A familiar dark gaze corrals yours. Your heart skips a beat. For brief seconds, familiar pale lips rise in a taunting smile.

 A shudder rocks through your frame. You lower your eyes, keeping them on the grass.

Him? Here? On your beloved Caladan? Adrenaline pumps through your blood, your pulse spiking. A frown forms on your brow. Sense is amiss here. You thought him a beast, driven by nothing but violence and lust. But as you take in the scene unfolding before you, the two enemy armies trapped in a standstill, you understand more clearly. 

This is not some impulsive, foolish attempt. This is a calculated move. No side can hurt each other this openly without annihilating each other and causing a global, intergalactic incident. The other houses of the Landsraad would be forced to declare allegiance for one side or the other. The Imperium would be compelled to respond. Chaos would erupt. 

And it’s blatant the na-Baron knows it, a smugness etched on his face despite standing in enemy fields.

You are so consumed by your raging train of thoughts that you nearly miss the tail end of the conversation between the Duke, your father and him.

Shock bolts through you when you catch the suggestion that he should stay in your family’s estate.

Indignation pulses through your words.

“In our home, father?”

Your father shoots you a withering glance. Your head dips as you bite your tongue. No protest should have risen from it. As an Earl’s daughter, your opinion in such matters is irrelevant. So despite the frustration and horror swelling inside you, you bind every objection to the cage of your sealed lips.

His gristly, arrogant baritone booms across the field.

“In light of the…belligerent history House Harkonnen and House Atreides share, I believe it may be ill-advised for me to stay at Castle Caladan.” Despite your bowed head, you can paint a vivid picture of the haughty smile stretched on his lips as he says, “And since our two houses have grown undeniably close, thanks to your daughter’s most skilled, clever tongue...” Your heart races as you quietly pray no one present deciphers the lewd implication behind his words. “It is where I shall take residence for the duration of my stay.”

 Later that same day, Feyd-Rautha wastes no time in finding you, making the purpose of his visit clear when he sneaks into your chambers. His reflection in your vanity mirror as you remove your headdress startles you. 

You jump to your feet.

“Guards?” you call sharply.

He cocks his head, a smirk ghosting over his plump lips.

“Guards?” he repeats, openly mocking you. “I have Harkonnen soldiers at your door, my darling.”

A shudder ripples through your spine. You lift your chin, your tone firm and commanding as you say, “You can’t be here, na-Baron Feyd-Rautha. It is inappropriate.”

He snorts.

“Inappropriate?” A predatory look crosses his features as his dark gaze roams over you, seeming to peel the layers of your dress. “I do not recall that being an issue when I had you spread over my cock back on Giedi Prime.”

Heat rushes to your face at his lewd reminder. 

“Y-You must leave,” you insist, fighting to quell the tremor in your voice.

“Or what?” he challenges, taking slow, lithe steps in your direction. Your pulse soars. “Will you scream?” A crooked slant appears on his mouth, the prospect clearly filling him with great delight. He hums low in his throat. “Then how will you explain my presence in your chambers?”

You recoil, every hair on your body bristling as he inches closer. The realization that you are alone with him, with no help coming, that power you held before now robbed from you, has dread steadily mounting inside you. On Giedi Prime, he was a leashed monster, one you felt you could sway as you like. Here in your room, he is a ravenous creature, hungry for blood and retribution. One you no longer have control over. 

You dash towards the exit. He smoothly impedes your attempt at escaping, his fingers fastening around your wrist while he grabs your body from behind. He yanks you backwards, pulling you against his chest.

“Not so fast,” he sneers. His tongue slips out to drag across your temple. You wince, jerking in his embrace to free yourself. You bend over him and sink your teeth in the flesh of his arm. He purrs in pleasure, his hold on you tightening. His gravelly whisper summons goosebumps on your skin. “Oh darling, such a slippery one you are, always trying to run from me whenever things start to become most…interesting.”

He hauls you to your bed. Your heels dig into the ground to resist. His patience fizzles out and he throws you onto the carpeted floor instead. The clamor of your drumming heart rises to a crescendo in your ears. He looms over you, his body caging yours. Terrorized, you gape at him, an helplessness you never felt before pulsing through your veins. Your chest heaves rapidly, alarm widening your gaze as he reaches down to pull down his black pants. His erect, alabaster cock slips free, the swollen tip already shimmering with the evidence of his need. A scream dies in your throat when his fingers wrap around your neck, bruises already forming in his painful grip.

You thrash beneath him, clawing and biting every part of him you can reach. Your feistiness only serves to galvanize him further. A demented look of amusement decorates his handsome face as you struggle underneath his frame. His throbbing length pokes your stomach. You kick your legs, desperation radiating through your chest. He places himself between your thighs, pushing your dress out of the way until it’s bunched around your waist. A raspy sigh leaves him as he nudges his thick, leaking tip against your dry entrance.

Terror sings through your veins.

He revels in every bit of fight you give him, plucking satisfaction in watching you exert yourself to delay the inevitable. A hungry wolf toying with a lamb before sinking his teeth. Even as you grab the dagger hidden under your skirts and try to stab him, he’s undeterred, the flicker of surprise shifting to a smile when you nick his shoulder blade. He wrenches it from your hand with little effort, once more demonstrating that whatever frail control you thought you ever had…was just an illusion. You squeal in pain as he twists your wrists above your head, his steely grip nearly snapping your bones.

“No…don’t you dare,” you hiss, the confidence in your voice faltering as you feel him push inside you. 

His warm breath brushes over your face. “I traveled across the stars to find you again. I will take what is rightfully mine.”

Your back folds as he spears you with his cock. The room blurs around you, the sudden searing pain as he begins to move inside you almost knocking you unconscious. He never took you like that. Like an animal in heat, desperate to reach his high. You choke on your breath with every one of his quick, feral thrusts.

His lips sweep over yours, ravenous and possessive. You bite him and he growls, somehow growing harder inside you. His sick enjoyment of this makes you shudder. He fondles your soft flesh, groaning into the bloody kiss. Black teeth trail possessive bites along the quivering column of your neck. His hands feel everywhere on your reluctant flesh, the weight of him suffocating as his greedy mouth tastes yours.

“You thought you could toy with me and toss me aside when it pleased you,” he rumbles, squeezing your jaw. His fingers dig painfully into your cheeks. “I am Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen. I am not some spoiled little princess’ toy.”

The last remnants of bravado inside you are swiftly pushed by the hasty, merciless snap of his hips into yours. You try to ignore the horrid heat gathering in your lower belly, the spasms rocking through your core every time he hits those tender spots he’s come to know too well.

“I’m delighted to see your body hasn’t forgotten me, darling,” he taunts, yanking a drawn-out whimper from you as his cock punches through your walls.

Your chest grazes his, his form draping over yours as you sag against the floor of your bedroom, completely defeated.

“Please…” The desperate, feeble cry falls from your tongue in a last ditch effort to get him to stop. It only makes him smile down at you, a glint of victory illuminating his dark orbs. Tears well up in your eyes as you grow overwhelmed with fear, confused and terrified by the way your body yields to him. Your walls constrict around him, hugging his cock as if welcoming the assault. A wave of sickness spreads through you.

His tongue traces a slow path across your cheek, collecting the salty trails streaming down your face. He moans, his eyes fluttering shut. “Your tears taste sweeter than I could have imagined. Almost as sweet as that tight cunt of yours.” He licks his lips. “Perhaps I shall aim to make you cry for me more often.”

When his warm spent glazes your ruined walls, his sweat-covered muscular frame covers yours. He remains buried inside you, crudely pushing back the sticky excess with his fingers. You shiver beneath him, weeping quietly, forever destroyed, forever changed. 

Head nestled in the crook of your neck, he whispers, “We shall see how well my seed blossoms in your garden, my darling.”

“I do not understand,” Paul says, turning a dismayed frown upon you. “You are to be his willing bride?”

Swallowing a deep breath, you recollect the events that have led you here. Led you to stand here before the members of House Atreides, before your fiancé, to announce that you will not marry Paul. Led to you disgracing yourself and your house.

The wayward memories slip through your grieving mind.

Focusing on their conversation is hard, the discomfort in your body making it hard to walk properly. Feyd-Rautha relishes your torment, occasionally tossing taunting glances at you above his shoulder, a secretive smirk hovering on his lips. Your fingers clench in your lap. He insisted your father give him a tour of the castle this morning, and as his supposed ‘friend’, you are naturally expected to be present. Nevermind the sickness and resentment taking hold of you whenever you look at him.

As the tour nears its end, your father asks, “Do you have everything you need, na-Baron, or do you require any further accommodations?”

Feyd-Rautha hums, as if he were truly mulling over this offer.

“Any further accommodations?” He smirks, pausing before resting his eyes on you. “I suppose your daughter’s hand in marriage will do.”

Your head snaps up, a stunned exhale bursting from your mouth.

Your father turns a puzzled frown towards the ivory-skinned young man.

“My daughter’s hand? Is this a joke?”

There isn’t a hint of mischief on the na-Baron’s face, his expression deadly serious, making your father realize…his request must be as serious. He halts in his tracks, the smile vanishing from his face.

Feyd-Rautha approaches your father, ordering rather than asking, “Cancel the match with Atreides, old man, and give your daughter to me instead.” He snickers. “Her virtue is already mine anyway.”

This sends your father into a blind rage. He draws out his sword and lunges himself at the na-Baron.

“You rascal. I will teach you-”

Your father was a great warrior once, a fearsome force on the battlefield. Duncan Idaho himself would attest to that, having fought at his side several times. 

…But that was decades ago. Nowadays with his body slowed down by age, he is no match for the quick, ruthless Feyd-Rautha. He barely gets the opportunity to swing his sword at the young man once before Feyd-Rautha guides his blade below his chin and through his skull. Blood gurgles from your father’s mouth, raining over his neck and clothes before he falls into a heap on the floor. 

Your stomach drops. You watch in horror at his split skull, matter spilling from it across the tiles, his rolled back eyes, his still open mouth. 

You sink to the floor, crawling to his corpse. Fresh blood stains your palms as you cradle his head.

“Father!” Tears blur your sight. You lift your eyes, yelling out orders with a broken voice. “Guards! Detain him!”

Shock ripples through you as the guards ignore you, staring ahead blankly as if the gruesome scene before them didn’t exist. 

Feyd-Rautha kneels at your side. He frames your chin, bending over your shoulder to whisper, 

“Oh darling, do you not understand?” You hear the wicked smile in his raspy baritone. “Your house isn’t your house anymore. It is mine.” Ice bursts through your veins. His gravelly voice lowers, as if he were sharing a secret with you. “Do you wish for your sisters and mother to meet the same fate?”

Your chin wobbles in his grasp. “N-No.”

He strokes the side of your face.

“Then do everything I say.”

 “Y-Yes, my Lord,” you reply with a tremulous nod.

Ire trembles through Paul’s voice, his fingers clenching into fists at his side. Disbelief and hurt contort his boyish features.

“I do not believe it. I do not believe you,” he says, pinning you with an unflinching stare. You lower your gaze. You can hardly believe it yourself. How your entire life fell apart, your future in ruins…your father’s blood now on your hands. You blink back budding tears and take a deep breath to thwart any hint of trembling in your voice. You’re grateful for the funeral veil concealing your expression. “I apologize for breaking the promise my father made.”

Paul’s jaw clenches.

“You’re lying.”

“Son…” Leto Atreides begins, a slight warning in his tone. 

“There is something she isn’t telling me, father,” Paul insists, his green gaze narrowing. “Speak the truth.”

You shiver before feebly uttering, “My Lord…”

“Silence!” You flinch at the sudden wave of power engulfing you, forcing you into quietness as if someone snatched your tongue from your mouth. You release a shaky breath, staring up at Paul in shock. The Voice. Paul used the Voice on you. A Bene Gesserit skill meant to make the target bow to the user’s will. Your wide-eyed gaze rests on Paul. You never expected him to use this on you. As if you were some enemy he needed to interrogate.

His anger cracks in the air like a whip.

“I said…Speak the truth,” he snaps, using the Voice again. 

A great pain settles in your body, pins and needles coursing through it. Sweat breaks out on your skin. Words tear from your throat on their own, aching  as they spring from your tongue. 

“I offered myself to him on Giedi Prime,” you blurt out.

Your hands fly to your mouth as soon as the words pour out of you. Your eyes fill with tears. Paul looks at you in a way he never has before. Like you’re a stranger. Your heart sinks.

“I see. So it is true.”

Meanwhile, at your side, Feyd-Rautha basks in every second of the spectacle, twisted mirth swaying in his dark orbs. He hasn’t said more than a few words during the whole exchange but it’s clear he’s plucking joy from this, reveling in your misery.

Paul nods, stepping away from you.

“You are dismissed, my Lady. You may go to your future husband.”

Paul’s icy timbre shatters what is left of your heart. He turns his back to you and you feel more alone than you ever have in your entire life. Your lips clamp shut, a cold wave setting all the way to your bones. 

Even Paul’s parents, the Duke and your aunt the Lady Jessica appear disappointed in you, their eyes bereft of its usual warmth as they watch you leave with the enemy.

You have nothing, no one. Just the monster beside you. Your soon-to-be husband, who won your hand through bloodshed and deception.

Feyd-Rautha’s hand curls around your waist, guiding you towards his starship. With every step you take, further away from the Atreides castle, you feel more hollow.

“Come with me, my love. Let us go home to Giedi Prime,” the monster whispers.

You don’t put up a fight as you’re nudged inside the vessel, silently accepting your defeat. Feyd-Rautha plants a deep, slow kiss on your lips and you passively let it happen. 

You admire the beautiful green fields of Caladan one last time before the doors close. An errant tear skips over your cheek. You likely will never see your planet again. And even if by some miracle you could return, you would be the enemy to all of them…even to your own family, who holds you responsible for Father’s untimely demise.

You peer down at your hands. If you let your mind wander, you start to relive that awful moment. That moment your father’s wet, warm blood coated your hands, dripping between your fingers. You will never wash off the stain, shed the guilt. 

You wanted to feel the flames, experience the full-blown heat of something thrilling and new. Something you never had in your tedious, predictable existence before.

You in fact got to feel this heat. You walked through the fire and the flames consumed everything you held dear.

And now you stand amidst the ashes, everything you ever knew ripped from you forever.