#this is also something he learned from paul

[fashionteahouse]

hiii 💗 can you do a paul nsfw abc hcs plss?

heyy 💜 ofc ! this was fun hope you enjoy :)

nsfw alphabet hcs - paul lahote

a ~ aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

his body is in a totally relaxed state, it's like he took a chill pill. his mood is noticeably chipper. he likes to hold you close, but stresses that you both have to use the bathroom so he can fall asleep with you in his arms. cleaning you up is something he doesn't have a problem with and takes his time doing so.

b ~ body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner's)

it doesn't take much to guess that the cheeky bastard thinks that the thing between his legs is his favorite body part. he likes the chiseled muscles that are also on his body, showcasing his strength.

he really enjoys his partner's hands, they completely melt him because of how soft they are so he wants them to always touch him in and out of the bedroom. he also enjoys your eyes, they speak volumes in the bedroom to him and love keeping eye contact with you during.

c ~ cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

he made it an effortless mission of how you have to cum before he does. even though it's a rare occasion, he enjoys cumming inside of you. something about you oozing out his seed, rocks his world. if he can't cum inside of you, he opts for right on your stomach.

d~ dirty secret (a dirty secret of theirs)

he didn't think he would like it as much as he does, but he really enjoys cyber sex. you both don't do it as much since you two see each other pretty often in person.

e ~ experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they're doing)

hes pretty experienced. many would think that his experience came from the local girls he's gotten around with but, he lets people think so. his real experience came from accidentally diving into the world of messing around with women who were older, due to his maturity, so he learns quickly how to pleasure one's body and where things are. he knows exactly what he's doing and has great pride in knowing so.

f ~ favorite position (this goes without saying)

he really enjoys back shots, he likes the sight of you taking him all in. he encourages you to buck back on him.

g ~ goofy (are they more serious at the moment? are they humorous?etc.)

hes more serious in the moment, his focus goes all into the moment. his dirty talk might have a glint of humor on rare occasions.

h ~ hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

it's not too long, he keeps it to a nice trim. the carpet does match the drapes.

i ~ intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

he very much makes sure to let you know how beautiful you are while naked. whispers of how pretty and beautiful you are, come without fail.

j ~ jack off (masturbation headcanon)

he really only does it when you both can't see each other for any reason.

k ~ kink (one or more of their kinks)

besides dirty talk, being overstimulated, whether it's you or him. he likes the tingly feeling so much that he wishes it could last forever. mirrors are another one that he's into. he really enjoys looking at the reflection of both bodies responding to one another. he talks you into watching what he sees in the reflection at times.

l ~ location (favorite places to do the do)

secretly enjoys doing it in secluded public places if it's on a spur of the moment but his home is his favorite. there's no room for interruptions.

m ~ motivation (things that turn them on or gets them going)

all you have to do is say his name and it's over. whether it's during an everyday conversation or when you pant it out. he enjoys physical affection so rubbing or feathered touches gets him going. prolonged eye contact when having a simple conversation will bring out his wild feelings. when things get too heavy, he likes the sight of you touching yourself while he's inside of you.

n ~ no (turnoffs or absolutely wont do)

sharing. hes very possessive with who he's with and wouldn't want anyone else to see what he gets to see. he can't do it with music playing, it will distract him.

o ~ oral (receiving or giving and how skillful they are)

he's not too big on receiving, he likes giving way more. he's very skillful, your responses would agree with him. with his patience, he thinks it's more fun to give but he wouldn't turn down the times you would want to go down on him.

p ~ pace (how fast they are and how long they last in bed)

he starts off painfully slow but as it gets more heated, he picks up the pace, having you clutch onto him with all of your strength as he's close. he lasts pretty long and is greedy with his time.

q ~ quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

he would be a fan of them, the heart racing idea of having a quick heated session. he gets to see for himself how quickly you can fall apart in his arms. it happens a lot, it ends up making you appreciate the moments when he gets to take his time.

r ~ risk (do they like to try new things)

he would try new things if it were safe but to be honest, there's not anything that he hadn't tried before that he knew he would enjoy.

s ~ stamina (how many times they can go and how long each round lasts)

he could go all day if you let him. each round is pretty lengthy so he understands if you don't want to push for a third or fourth round.

t ~ toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

he doesn't own his own, however if his partner had them, he would be curious on how to use them on his partner. other than that, it's more of an out of sight, out of mind.

u ~ unfair (how do they tease or do they enjoy suspense themselves)

he really enjoys being a tease. he likes to make his feel ups slow and sensual, knowing it drives you crazy. he's fascinated by how your body reacts with just dry humping. he likes it when you are on your edge and he doesn't let you cum, it gets you to say his name. when you try to tease, he warns you to say you’re playing with fire but you soon find out why: you beg him to pick up his agonizingly slow strokes as he mischievously smiles down at your begging.

v ~ volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

his grunts are quiet at first but he eventually matches the volume you make, as he gets more turned on. his dirty talk is to a low volume but as he's close or hits a good spot, they transfer into groans that gradually gets into a crescendo.

w ~ wild card (random headcanon for the character)

one time when you were away for a couple of days, you left him voice messages and he missed you so much, he jerked off to the sound of your voice as he listened.

x ~ x-ray (lets see what's going on under those clothes)

he's sort of beautiful. as much as he went through, no ugly scars can be seen. a bit longer than average but the width with a nice curve steals hearts. in your opinion, he has a very recognizable dick.

y ~ yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

he always wants it to the point he's greedy at times. he almost wears you out but there's no complaints.

z ~ zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

he doesn't feel the drowsiness after, but when you're zonked out, he follows. it isn't until he wakes up, feeling like he slept really well. he loves after sex naps.

[ramen8008]

Percy definitely carries an uno reverse card on him at all times

[edennill]

Consider:

The Faithful of Númenor having clandestine "schools" of their own, their children gathering in their houses to be taught the forbidden elvish tongues, and more importantly, unexpunged history and religion (although I do feel slightly hesitant to use the latter word in relation to the Legendarium). Definitely most prominent in Andustar and later among those deported from it, often, these lessons masquerade as trade schools, so that whenever the king's soldiers are at the door, one can quickly hide the books, bring out embroidery hoops and spread cloth over the parchment.

Illicit theatre performances! Ask me about my headcanon that Númenor invented theatre one day, but the gist of it is that culturally, it's pretty important, but at some point a very stringent censorship becomes the norm, and many erstwhile classics are forbidden (not to mention any new plays with a Faithful message). Cue the practice of semi-professionnal troupes secretly performing in people's courtyards with very little in terms of scenography/costumes, but with a strong emphasis on good acting. Theatre is not considered a low occupation in Númenor, so even certain relatives of the Lords of Andunie take part in those shows.

[13eyond13]

wait your beatles era is over? it was so fun eventhough i follow for death note content it just made my day seeing you enjoying something so much! :]

Awww no well it's not OVER over, as in I still really like them and will retain everything I learned about them during the last 3 or 4 months and still follow a lil handful of my fave Beatles blogs on here. It's just over as in I don't feel the need to fill my dash with literally hundreds of Beatles blogs or finish reading every giant biographer's tome I started reading about them anymore or wtv. And obvs you can always chat to me about them and still see me occasionally post about them! But thank you for saying so anyways haha

[thetimelordbatgirl]

I am beyond shit at keeping up with the comics but what the fuck do you mean they finally killed Spider Boy off only to have Spider Man make a deal with Mephisto to get him back???? Girl??? What??? I would focus on them refusing to even entertain the idea that Spider Boy would be dead for a while, but I'm more focusing on Spider Man having not fucking learnt from making deals with Mephisto last time-

[nervoushottee]

With Want | Paul Atreides x Fem!Reader

Summary: Paul Atreides always had dreams. But from the very beginning, there was an invisible string pulling him to you.

Warnings: (MDNI 18+) Reader's secret name is Nuri, Set in Dune Part 2 , fingering, soulmate/destined pairing, shitty understanding of the Dune universe (only watched the first Dune move and only half of Dune part 2 whoopsie so I'm probably butchering some of the lore or whatever. Its fanfiction babes, I'm not writing this for accuracy),

Note: Hey hottees!! Y'all I'm not even finish watching Dune 2 and I started writing this. Timothee was doing something to me in this movieeee. Hope y'all enjoy!

*not edited at all babes*

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

Paul Atreides had dreams. Both enchanting and horrifying dreams that would eat away at his mind and soul. And from the very beginning, he had always felt this small pull of a feeling. 

It was weirder than his dreams because even when he woke, he still felt it. Like it was a small tether, a light string in his heart and soul that hummed so softly. A light that was so dim that you would have to squint to see. 

After everything that happened with his father and being forced out of his home. The Fremen people found him and his mother. And that feeling grew stronger. He thought it was about the sayings of what his mother, the Bene Gesserit, would tell him but it felt more than that. 

It was odd, he could never see what it was in his dreams, or hear whispers of it like a name. But it was always that same enchanting feeling. So when Paul followed the Fremens, it continued to grow. By the time they walked deeper into the caves, it went from a strong pull to an overwhelming presence. 

And that’s when he saw you. 

“Who is she?” Paul asks Chani. The young woman already knew who Paul was asking for before she turned her head. A small smile engulfs on her face. “Nuri.”

Nuri.

Paul repeats your name to understand the feeling on his tongue. He hadn’t seen you before. Or maybe he did, he wasn’t too sure. The Fremen people covered their faces from the desert and a lot from what he was learning.

‘She moves like the wind.’ Paul says to himself as he watches you glide through the crowded room. Paul’s eyes meet yours briefly. Yours blue from your sclera to your irises. You stop moving through the crowd to stare at him. 

That feeling buzzed around him, stronger than ever within Paul as his eyes never leaving  yours. Your lips slowly turn up into a smile. Your eyes move towards Chani who still stands next to him, nodding in acknowledgement. Chani repeats the same gesture with a smile on her face, your gaze lingers back on Paul before a group of people walk in front of Paul’s view of you. By the time the people separate. You were gone. And the feeling suddenly fades from a sharp intensity to a dull buzz. 

“You should be careful around her Outworlder.” Chani says to him in a low tone as the common area starts to get a bit busy with people. The two of them sit down on a blanket as other where for food. 

“Was she with the group when you found me and my mother?” Paul asks, dodging the statement his acquaintance gave him. 

Chani shakes her head, chewing her food before speaking, “No. She doesn’t come with us all the time.”That intrigued Paul. He turns himself fully towards Chani, his bowl of food mixed with spice long forgotten . “So is she not a fighter?” 

“She is.” Chani says between chews, ”But she also walks with the Sayyadina.”

The Sayyadina. The Fremen’s Reverend Mother. 

“From what I’ve been told, her family was killed just after she was born. Stilgar took it upon himself to look after her. As she grew, the Sayyadina felt something within her. So Stilgar gave them the authority to let her walk with them. She is truly a great fighter, so when we need good fighters she will come with us when necessary. If not, she stays.” Chani continues. 

“A fighter and one that walks with the Sayyadina? Is that possible?” Paul questions. 

“To a nonbeliever? No. But to those who do? Yes. Stilgar believes in the old ways and in the faith. The Lisan al Gaib.” She says to him in a taunting tone which causes Paul to avert his eyes. The moment they came in, some shouted hatred towards him and his mother but others screamed in rejoice, calling him The Lisan al Gaib.

“Our people follow behind him, he is a good leader and his judgment is almost always right and trustworthy.” Chani finishes. 

Paul sits with the information he tells her, his hands slowly dipping in his bowl to start eating the food that was cold to touch but warm against his tongue. The heat of the spice warms his insides as it goes down his throat. “And what about you? What do you believe?”

”I don’t believe that you’re the Lisan al Gaib, that's for sure.” She chuckles. Paul feels his cheeks flush in embarrassment but urges her to continue. “I believe in our people. And she is a part of our people. And if she plays some part in whatever faith stories then so be it. But she has never faltered in training. She has never failed in the dessert and she is a good friend. She believes in our people as much as I do.”

After the words Chani said, Paul felt that she was over talking about you, more hungry and interested in the spice beneath her fingers. So Paul didn’t ask anymore. He ate his food in silence but his mind was racing with the thoughts of you. 

—— —— —— ——

The day had turned into night. Stilgar showed him and his mother the small room for them to sleep in for the time being until their fate was decided. A lot of them didn’t trust him and his mother, and for that Paul understood. 

His dreams woke him in the late night. Lifting his head from the makeshift pillow, he looks over to his mother who is still sound asleep. Her hand was placed on her lower stomach. 

‘Rest easy sister, I will be back.’ He says in his head before getting up and quietly leaving the room.

The caves are quiet at night. Besides from the guards that linger within the open spaces to protect those who rest. Paul doesn’t think it’s necessary but he avoids walking around where they are. Just in case to not stir any trouble. The people were calm at the moment since their fates were going to be decided soon enough. 

He walks to the small body of water his mother had told him about. The scared waters of the Fremens. The waters they would never touch. He sat there for a while. Enjoying the stilllness in the air and the calm look of the water. It reminded him of home. “I miss you father. I will take care of mother and sister.” He says to himself quietly. 

He wants to cry but reminds himself to save his water. “Don’t waste your tears on the dead” from what Stilgar told his mother. 

Paul sat still for a moment longer before he felt that pull again. That invisible string strong and tight as it pulls him to his feet. He absentmindedly walks into a dimly let hallway, his pulse quickening against his neck. His heat beating erratically against his chest as he turns the corner to see you. “You’re Nuri.” Paul states.

“You shouldn’t be out at night Paul Atriedes.” You say to him, your back towards him but he can hear the teasing smile within your words.

“I couldn’t sleep.” Paul explains to you simply, “And I made sure to walk where the guards can not see me.” The feeling nearly suffocates him as he walks toward you. 

“Ah.” You turn towards him, you’re dressed in almost the same comfortable linens as him. His a tan brown color and yours an off white. “You and your dreams.”

How did you know about that? He questions in his head, unconsciously taking another step towards you. You both now at arms length.

“I see you in my dreams.” Paul lies. 

“Do you?” You ask back, your tone sounds as if you know he’s lying. 

“No but I can feel you. In my dreams and out. And I don’t know what it is or what it means.” He explains. 

You hum in satisfaction as you slowly walk around him. Like a beast or a predator trapping its prey. “And what do you feel now?” 

He feels like his body is vibrating, His skin tingling and his veins jumping. His fingers buzzing as if he wants to reach out and touch you. He does what to touch you, he wants to feel your skin on his. “What do you feel?” Paul asks the question back to you.

You stop walking to stand behind him. The hairs on his neck stick out as he feels your body heat near him. Your lips slowly grazing his ear making his eyes flutter close. 

What the hell is happening to him?

“I feel like the spice on my tongue. I feel like the sand beneath my feet. I feel like the beauty you see in your dreams. I can feel you.” You whisper against him. 

Paul turns around to you, your bodies closer than ever. His lips inches towards yours as his flickers between your eyes and your lips. 

“You speak in tongues.” Paul whispers to you desperately.

“Shall I tell you in a way you understand?” You whisper against his lips. 

“Yes please.” he begs softly. 

And you don’t hesitate to put your lips on his. Paul moving quickly as his hands clasp softly against your cheeks. Moaning in the delight as he feels your hands glide against his chest, gripping his shirt. 

He feels you everywhere, but it isn’t overwhelming anymore. Now that he’s holding you and tasting you, your tongue glides against his. He feels a wave of warmth wash over him as his body and soul settle into the feeling of you. 

So warm and inviting. So enticing and serene. 

You push him towards a dark hidden spot in the hallway. Your bodies are engulfed in darkness but when you break apart for air, you can see him all the same. Paul moves you toward the wall, his body trapping you in as he kisses your neck. 

“I’ve dreamt of you, Paul Atreides. I’ve seen you in my dreams, felt you lingering in my mind, heart and soul.” You say to him breathly. Moaning quietly as you feel his tongue glide against your neck. Your guide his hand to touch your breast, causing Paul to move away from your neck and look into your eyes. 

‘So beautiful.’ Paul thought. He brings his other hand on your cheek and kisses you hungrily. Squeezing your breast, feeling the weight of it in the palm of his hand.His hand glides to let your nipple slip in between his fingers as he squeezes.“I want to dream of you. I want to see you in my dreams, want to hear your voice call my name.” he mutters to you in between kisses.

When you break away from his kiss, Paul starts to ask what’s wrong until he feels your hand on his and glides it up to your lips. You kiss his fingers individually as he stares at you in adoration and desire. You slowly slip his middle and ring finger into your mouth causing Paul to groan. His hips shifting upwards against you as he feels the wetness of your warm tongue glide against his fingers. He watches as you pull his fingers out of your mouth, his digits glistening wet. Your hands glide his now wet ones down and underneath your linen pants.

“Touch me and you will see me.” 

He lets his hand glide against you as is greeted by your wetness, causing you both to moan out in pleasure. You are sinking deeper into the wall and Paul sinking deeper into you. His fingers continue to glide there experimentally as you pull him back for a kiss. “Help me see.” Paul mutters desperately against you

. 

Your hands reach down in your lines to move his hand into the position you need for him to make you feel good. You mimic a small circular rotation with your fingers on the back of his hand that was still against you. Once Paul understands, he begins to move his fingers in the motion you instructed, making you moan against his lips. 

He pulls away to watch you. You looked more ethereal than any other being or spirit that was believed in all of Arrakis. Your head back against the mountain wall, your lips slightly open as you moan. Your hips moving against his fingers as if you’re chasing for pressure. Paul dips his head in the corner of your neck and kisses it feverishly as he applies more pressure in his movements. Causing you to hold on to shoulder and call out his name. Oh how he wanted you to say his name again.

Feeling a little confident he glides his fingers down, but keeps his them pressed against your swollen bud. He pushes his middle finger inside of you causing you to gasp. You hold onto his shoulder gripping his shirt as you breathe heavily. You drag his head from your neck to kiss him. With his finger going in and out of you at an agonizing slow pace, you kiss him sloppily. But Paul doesn’t seem to mind, he enjoys it. Humming against you with a smile. 

When you feel his ring finger follow in for a second is when you lose it. “Paul!” you say loudly. 

His tongue mingles with yours as he silences your cries. With the slow circling of his thumb against your clit and the way he pushes his fingers into you makes you clench against him. “Fuck.” he moans. 

You whine as you feel your orgasm growing inside of you. The feeling you both shared with one another makes you feel even more on edge as you grip Paul in anyway you can. You rapidly as you feel yourself getting close. “Pau-Paul -” you begin to tell him as such but the building pleasure doesn’t get you far. Paul places his other hand against your cheek, tilting your head to look up at him. His eyes hooded and his cheeks flushed. You feel his thumb brush against your bottom lip. 

“Let me see you.” 

His words are the final push that sends you over the edge. Paul kissing you to silence your cries, you mewling against his lips as his fingers never stop their learned rhythm. You shiver against his fingers, your body tingly and warm. He kisses your face from your cheeks, to your eyelids and everywhere in between as he waits for you to come down from your high. He whispers your name, making you flutter your eyes open to see Paul stare at you with want. 

“Show me again.”

[doomdoomofdoom]

I understand the struggle so hard. So I'm gonna dump more of my therapists advice on you. open source therapy.

I remember two exercises we talked about, one that didnt work for me and one that did:

Child in a grocery store: Required: Floor. Lay on the floor, scream and cry and kick your legs and twist around and slam your arms, like you're a toddler who got denied a chocolate bar. Repeat until satisfied. Throwing a tantrum like this is one of the first ways we learn to release negative emotions, so it usually comes the most natural to us.

Wood chopper: Required: Couch, Bed, or other cushioned surface of similar height. (Alternatively, chop actual wood but few people have that available.) Stand in front of your (soft!) target. Raise both arms and combine them over your head into one mega fist. Then, while bending your knees, slam your mega fist down onto your target with all your strength and rage. Your furniture is sturdy enough to take it. A loud yell with every smack is optional, but helpful (and helps regulate your breathing!) Repeat until satisfied. This exercise lets you release your anger in a more controlled fashion and you get to larp as a buff lumberjack if so desired.

Want to scream but worried about the noise? Don't want to upset your parents/neighbors/pets? A pillow to the face muffles screams very effectively. Any other sound playing at the same time like music or a TV will cover it up completely.

And one final piece of advice that I'm still chewing on: Anger isn't a shameful emotion. (No emotion is shameful.) It's one of our core emotional reactions. (According to my therapist, the others are Joy, Grief/Sadness, Surprise, Fear, and Disgust) Just like any other emotion, it needs to be felt, and it needs to be processed, or it will build up and make you miserable. The purpose of anger is to react to a negative thing by making you feel big and strong enough to confront it, but these days we rarely have a source that's easily confronted, so your options are either to channel it into productivity (i have written some of my best papers out of sheer spite) or to release it somehow, since redirecting your anger isn't always easy.

I am so fucking angry right now. I want to hurt something but there's nothing in my sphere of influence I want to see get hurt. You understand my struggle

[limethefirst]

Void Runners Pt. 1

pairings: Deadpool x Wolverine x teen!reader

warnings: contains heavy spoilers for Deadpool and Wolverine, swearing, blood, the normal deadpooly stuff

summary: Reader has been trapped in the void for a few months now, after getting into trouble with the TVA, when they suddenly stumble upon a Deadpool and a Wolverine.

Part 2

a/n: if this gets popular enough I might write a part two, I'm having Deadpool and Wolverine brainrot, also this is unedited so pls tell me if you see mistakes

It had been 4 months since you had been sent to the Void; the apocalyptic like plain, becoming what you had accepted as your new home.

You were a time traveler, that had accidently messed up some big event and that caused the TVA to come and take care of you. You weren't sure what the big event was, something about some saving some rich guys parents. You thought you were doing a good thing by it but apparently not.

Whatever it was, it didn't matter anymore, you were now stuck here. You'd been alone most of the time, sometimes seeing other people but you had learned quickly into your stay that these others were part of this group formed by Cassandra Nova, an insanely powerful woman who you never dared cross paths with.

Until unfortunately today.

Sadly you stumbled upon the wrong people at the wrong time. As you were walking through the dusty plains, you saw two men falling from the sky, thinking back on your heroic days you felt obligated to help out. That was not the best idea, you tried to go up to the men but instead they started arguing when a fight suddenly broke out between them. By the time the fight had ended you had blood all over your (as clean as they can be in the void) shoes.

"Augh, I just cleaned these too." Is what seemed to snap the men out of whatever had just happened.

"Oh my gosh! How long has the movie been out? Five days, and we are already getting reader inserts? Wow!" The man in the red mask said to no one in particular, "And what might your name be sunshine?"

"Uh Y/N, are you guys okay, you seem to be stabbed in a lot of places?" You answered a bit concerned after seeing two men almost tear each other apart.

"Oh this? Sorry, my partner here has weird kinks-" The strange man is cut off by the other seemingly older man punching him in the jaw. "See what I mean kiddo?"

"Enough Wade." The older man gruffed, his arms crossing as he shakes his head disapprovingly.

"Whatever you say sugar cube!" The man known as Wade looked back at you, "Oh you must be wondering who we are huh! Well this hairy beast of a man is the one and only Wolverine, and I am your friendly neighbor Deadpool!" Wolverine looked at you and sighed at the at his 'partners' antics.

From there things only went downhill, and that is how you were stuck with them being hauled off to Cassandra Nova's lair.

"Awee are we having a flashback already?!" Deadpool's annoying voice rang from in front of you. Currently you were stuck in a ball like cage with, Johnny Storm, Wolverine and Deadpool.

Johnny began to explain to the men where we were all headed, going over the basics of who were about to meet and the type of woman Cassandra was. You looked a bit ahead as you noticed you were already here.

As you guys had come to a stop you saw the others being throw out of the cage, you held up your chained hands to the man before they could throw you as well, "I got it, thanks" jumping out before you got tossed as well.

At the same time you got down you heard Deadpool's odd comment, "Huh, Paul Rudd finally aged." You turned down at the man slightly and gave him a quick look of confusion unsure what he was talking about; his partner seemingly unphased by the comment, most likely used to it.

Looking ahead ignoring the bickering next happening to your right, you saw what seemed to be a bald woman in the mouth of the giant skull. As the dust cleared you could see her get up from the wheelchair she was sitting on, "What was the point of the wheelchair.." You dully commented.

Deadpool adding on, "Oh ableism great, that's not gonna go over well with the Woke mob!"

You looked at your surroundings, no longer caring about the scene unfolding before you, Deadpool began to talk with Cassandra, somehow coming up on the topic of a coke, loving roommate.

After a bit more talking between the two you hear Deadpool slandering Cassandra, and then telling her it was all Johnny who said it. This brought back your attention just in time to see Johnny's skin ripped from his skeleton.

"Not my favorite Chris." Deadpool says, not having much remorse for the scene in front of him.

"You piece of shit you just got him fucking killed." Wolverine adds, pointing at the remains of Johnny.

"Awe I kinda liked him," You mumbled to yourself, as Wolverine looked at you with a look of discouragement on his face, almost as if saying not to get Deadpool started with this.

"Hey we are all grieving," Deadpool yells, "He doesn't know what he was doing to the budget." He mumbled the last part.

Cassandra ignored his words and walked past the group, "Shush, Alioth's hungry."

"There must be some kind of mistake," Deadpool started again, "Big yellow is an anchor being and I'm Marvel Jesus, MJ if you're nasty." Cassandra turned her head a little as you stood next to them listening to their story, not getting the chance to hear it earlier. "This may be hard to hear but there's another British villain, he's gonna destroy my universe and I'm gonna stop him."

"Oh honey you don't really strike me as the world saving type." Cassandra answered him, this seemed to upset the laidback man. You watched as he seemed to straighten himself up hearing that. "Did I hit a nerve?" She turns back, almost sarcastically.

"I didn't want it to come to this," Deadpool says, "Either you help us or my friend here is gonna sing the entire second act of Music Man with no warm up"

You look at him confused, "What the hell is that?"

"Where'd you get the chair?" Wolverine asks Cassandra as she walks back towards the skull.

She quickly answers, "Every once in a while we get a Charles here, never mind though, he didn't care to find me."

Deadpool leans back seemingly annoyed, "Ughh Gen Z and their trauma bragging!" He shoots you a quick glance, "Can't you just stuff it down and turn it into a cancer like the rest of us?"

"But I'm not like the rest of you, except maybe the Wolverine, now we could be truly terrifying together." A light smile graced Cassandra's face as she watches you guys.

You watch their exchange a little more before you notice the purple mist coming up behind you guys slowly getting closer. As you turn back around you see Wolverine getting dragged through the ground and Deadpool backing up.

"I am so not with them." You tell Cassandra hoping that doesn't happen to you.

"Oh yes they are." Deadpool fires back, making sure he isn't next. Unfortunately for him he was, you watched as Cassandra got behind him and put her fingers in his head.

She began to whisper something and within the next minute she let go. Deadpool shook his head and started rambling yet again, "You are so mean! I could taste your fingers! They taste like hate, and where in God's name is the intimacy coordinator?!"

"You're so lost Mr Wilson, long before you came here." Cassandra told him.

He took out his knife and held it up, "This is baby knife, she's gonna fuck you in the face now."

Cassandra looked at the knife at back at him, "If you're going to kill me it's going to take more then a little blade."

"How about six?" Before she could say anything else, Wolverine came up behind her and stabbed her with his claws.

"Holy shit" You said covering your mouth.

Before you could celebrate, Cassandra began laughing and fell from the claws, "This has been fun but the big guy needs to eat and the rent is due." She turned around walking away as a looming shadow of darkness rose above the skeleton you were in.

Before anyone had a chance to say anything people had scattered and Deadpool grabbed you and hoisted you up over his shoulder taking you towards the machine Wolverine was trying to fix for an escape.

You hadn't a second to say anything because the next thing you knew, you were being taken with them hopefully away from the giant monster.

[fuckyeahisawthat]

There are so many places in the Villeneuve Dune adaptations where he just...takes all the narrative pieces that Frank Herbert laid out and subtly rearranges them into something that tells the story better--that creates dramatic tension where you need it, communicates the themes and message of the book more clearly, or corrects something in the text that contradicts or undermines what Herbert said he was trying to say.

The fedaykin are probably my favorite example of this. I just re-read a little part of the book and got smacked in the face with how different they are.

(under the cut for book spoilers and length)

The fedaykin in the book are Paul's personal followers, sort of his personal guard. They show up after his legend has already started growing (the word doesn't appear in the book until chapter 40) and they are people who have specifically dedicated themselves to fighting for him, and right from the moment they're introduced there is a kind of implied fanaticism to their militancy that's a bit uncomfortable to read. They're the most ardent believers in Paul's messianic status and willing to die for him. (They are also, as far as you can tell from the text, all men.)

In the book, as far as I can remember (I could be forgetting some small detail but I don't think so) there is no mention of armed resistance to colonialism on Arrakis before Paul shows up. As far as we know, he created it. ETA: Okay I actually went back and checked on this and while we hear about the Fremen being "a thorn in the side" of the Harkonnens and we know that they are good fighters, we don't see anything other than possibly one bit of industrial sabotage. The book is very clear that the organized military force we see in the second half was armed and trained by Paul. This is exacerbated by the two-year time jump in the book, which means we never see how Paul goes from being a newly deposed ex-colonial overlord running for his life to someone who has his own private militia of people ready to give their lives for him.

The movie completely flips all these dynamics on their head in ways that add up to a radical change in meaning.

The fedaykin in the movie are an already-existing guerrilla resistance movement on Arrakis that formed long before Paul showed up. Literally the first thing we learn about the Fremen, less that two minutes into the first movie, is that they are fighting back against the colonization and exploitation of their home and have been for decades.

The movie fedaykin also start out being the most skeptical of the prophecy about Paul, which is a great choice from both a political and a character standpoint. Of course they're skeptical. If you're part of a small guerrilla force repeatedly going up against a much bigger and stronger imperial army...you have to believe in your own agency. You have to believe that it is possible to win, and that this tiny little chip in the armor of a giant terrifying military machine that you are making right now will make a difference in the end. These are the people who are directly on the front lines of resisting oppression. They are doing it with their own sweat, blood and ingenuity, and they are not about to wait around for some messiah who may never come.

From a character standpoint, this is really the best possible environment you could put Paul Atreides in if you want to keep him humble. He doesn't get any automatic respect handed to him due to title or birthright or religious belief. He has to prove himself--not as any kind of savior but as a good fighter and a reliable member of a collective political project. And he does. This is an environment that really draws out his best qualities. He's a skilled fighter; he's brave (sometimes recklessly so); he's intensely loyal to and protective of people he cares about. He is not too proud to learn from others and work hard in an egalitarian environment where he gets no special treatment or extra glory. The longer he spends with the fedaykin the more his allegiance shifts from Atreides to Fremen, and the more skeptical he himself becomes about the prophecy. This sets up the conflict with Jessica, which comes to a head before she leaves for the south. And his political sincerity--that he genuinely comes to believe that these people deserve liberation from all colonial forces and his only role should be to help where he can--is what makes the tragedy work. Because in the end we know he will betray all these values and become the exact thing he said he didn't want to be.

There's another layer of meaning to all this that I don't know if the filmmakers were even aware of. ETA: rescinding my doubt cause based on some of Villeneuve's other projects I'm pretty sure he could work it out. Given the time period (1960s) and Herbert's propensity for using Arabic or Arabic-inspired words for aspects of Fremen culture, it seems very likely that the made-up word fedaykin was taken from fedayeen, a real Arabic word that was frequently used untranslated in American news media at the time, usually to refer to Palestinian armed resistance groups.

Fedayeen is usually translated into English as fighter, guerrilla, militant or something similar. The translation of fedaykin that Herbert provides in Dune is "death commando"...which is a whole bucket of yikes in my opinion, but it's not entirely absurd if we're assuming that this fake word and the real word fedayeen function in the same way. A more literal translation of fedayeen is "self-sacrificer," as in willing, intentional self-sacrifice for a political cause, up to and including sacrificing your life.

If you apply this logic to Dune, it means that Villeneuve has actually shifted the meaning of this word in-universe, from fighters who are willing to sacrifice themselves for Paul to fighters who are willing to sacrifice themselves for their people. And the fedaykin are no longer a group created for Paul but a group that Paul counts himself as part of, one member among equals. Which is just WILDLY different from what's in the book. And so much better in my opinion.

[findmeinforks]

Understanding - Paul Lahote X Fem!Reader

A little break up, make up one shot while I work on part two of stay 💕 as always, let me know what you think! 2.4K Words ❤️

You had been understanding. You had been so, incredibly, unbelievably understanding. You had been kind, patient, considerate. You had thrown every insecurity away in your mind. You shoved your feelings right down your throat.

But that was over with now.

Now, you faced him. In the middle of the yard, your throat agonizingly raw from yelling. You were shocked he hadn't phased yet, but he knew the minute he did you would take off. The pack, watching from afar and unbeknownst to you, were also shocked at his restraint.

"I would NEVER do anything to hurt you. Why won't you believe that?"

You laughed wetly through the tears. You were down right manic over what he didn't comprehend.

"Really?? You don't understand why I would be upset by ANY of this? Are you that fucking blind?"

Paul huffed through his nose, attempting to control his temper.

"I have a job, Y/N. There's new bloodsuckers popping up every day now and we have to make sure we're ready for anything. That means stacking up our numbers against them. Guy or girl, they have to be trained."

You scoffed, rolling your eyes,

"And don't you find it at all peculiar that everyone else is out on their own but you're STILL having to train this same girl? DAY IN AND DAY OUT?!"

He sighed.

"She should be ready, I know. But every time we get on patrol, she gets fearful and fails at basic exercises. Sam has me spend extra time with her."

You threw up your hands as if the answer was obvious, "Then TELL Sam to have someone else take a turn?"

"She only likes training with me."

Your eyes went wide, and all you saw was red.

"AND THAT DOESNT GIVE YOU ANY FUCKING CLUE THAT MAYBE SHES FAILING ON PURPOSE FOR YOUR ATTENTION? THAT MAYBE SHE DOESNT GIVE A SHIT ABOUT IMPRINTS? THAT MAYBE PERHAPS SHE HAS DIFFERENT INTENTIONS?"

Paul shook his head, him now scoffing.

"It's actually really hard to learn to navigate being a wolf. That's something YOU don't seem to understand."

You think you had lost your mind. It seemed as though the world crumbled around you, his words ringing in your ears from the impact. That was not something the imprint you knew before this would have ever dared say to you. It wasn't that you believed Paul would ever be disloyal, but your instincts were damn sure this girl wanted him to be.

You nodded, swallowing the lump in your throat.

"You're right. I don't. You need to be with someone that understands. We're done."

Paul stepped back like he had taken a blow to the chest. His eyes softened now.

"You....you don't mean that."

You headed towards your car, not being able to face the broken look in his eyes.

"Y/N, wait," he reached out, and even though you were mad, a part of it killed you to deny him.

You shook your head, new tears rehydrating their original streaks.

You sniffled, and took a deep breath.

"I'm tired, Paul. I'm tired of waiting up for you. I'm tired of being left unanswered for hours. I'm tired of making plans that just get canceled. Im tired of being lonely. And most of all, I'm tired of being disappointed."

He grabbed your arm before you could fully get in, and you saw Sam emerge, still at a respectable distance from the two of you.

"Baby listen, okay, I'm sorry. I can do better I-"

"You've said that before Paul. This is not the first time we've fought about this."

Tears pricked the corners of his eyes now.

"Please. Don't." He whispered.

He almost made you cave. You so badly wanted to stay. But you also knew if you did, it would be the same reoccurring cycle. He had to know you were serious. You wanted the relationship you had before she came along. Until you were sure you would get that again, you had to leave.

"I have to go. Call me when your priorities change." You said as you gently pulled out of his grip and shut the door. And with that, you took off to your father's place.

-

Paul stood planted in the same spot you had left him, shattered. What had he done?

He felt a small hand on his shoulder, a feminine voice in his ear,

"Maybe it was for the better. She seems like a total bitch."

Paul's blood turned cold. It was as if in that very moment, he had come to his senses. The smoke had cleared in his crowded mind. You were right. Of course you were right. All the stress that had been on his plate, he hadn't been thinking clearly at all.

He came to realization now, and it was too late.

Paul yanked away his arm, turning with a fury in his eyes to the woman behind him. She shrunk back under his gaze, feigning an innocence he knew good and well was all fake.

He trembled with anger, barely registering that Sam was now in between him and the girl. Paul pointed a finger at her, teeth gritting with anger.

"Get. The FUCK. Away from me."

Paul ripped apart as he phased, having it bottled up for far too long, and dashing off like a mad man into the woods.

The woman gaped like a fish, starting to babble, turning to Sam for reassurance.

"I didn't do anything I-"

Sam huffed a breath through his nose, "You heard him. I think it would be best if you left. Embry's cousin or not, you are no longer welcome here. That's an order."

Sam shook his head, running a hand through his hair as she stormed off. He felt guilty for letting it get like this. He had some suspicions about her joining the pack, seeing as she was always gravitating towards Paul, but he had shrugged it off, too occupied with everything else going on.

Sam also knew too well what it was like to hurt an imprint. Physically or emotionally, the bond felt all the same. Strict alpha or not, he valued Paul as a brother, and just hoped you would come back for him.

-

As Paul laid his head onto his pillow, he watched the days go by before him. Being forced to come eat dinner by Emily and whenever he had patrol were just about the only times Paul left his bed. He would call you once a day, sometimes with a small hope you'd answer, and sometimes just to hear your voicemail. After his patrol shifts ended, he would often sneak off to your house, just to make sure he'd know you were safe, if even from a mile away.

-

"Do you think she'll ever come back?" Kim asked Jared quietly one day, after watching Paul barely eat his food and sulk back up to his room.

"I don't know honestly. Y/N is just as stubborn as he is. But I do miss him. I've never in my life seen Paul like this. His internal thoughts are depressing as hell..."

Kim sighed, "It's not like she's doing any better. She finally answered my call yesterday, and I had to double check who I was talking too. She's miserable, Jare."

He shrugged, "I mean what can we do about it babe? You can't get involved in people's business like that."

"They're not people. They're family." She mumbled as she clutched her coffee mug.

-

Another week had gone by, the pack all sitting in the kitchen getting ready to eat.

"Boys. We have information on the new vampires in town," Sam announced as he walked through the door with Jacob.

"They're after Bella. She had a run in with that red head we keep chasing to the border every night. Her boyfriend had tried to kill her so the Cullen's killed him, and now this bitch is assembling an army to take her out for revenge." Jacob relayed.

This grabbed Paul's attention. If they were after your sister, that meant you were in danger.

"We're going to help them fight. Our people are at risk if we let this get out of hand, or if the Cullen's lose. But until the army comes here, we're going to be sharing shifts with them to watch over the Swan house," Sam said, looking at Paul who was heading out the door.

"Paul."

"You can watch Bella from a distance. I'm taking my imprint home," he slammed the front door.

"I can't imagine that's gonna go good." Embry mumbled.

-

Your body jolted upright from the couch at the abrupt knocking on the front door. You hadn't been expecting anyone, Bella out doing who knows what with Edward, and Charlie hours away on a fishing trip.

Opening the door your breath caught in your throat.

"What are you doing here?"

"We have to go. Now." He said sternly, ignoring your bewildered look as he flew past you and up the stairs to your room.

"And just who the hell do you think you are?!" You stormed after him, appalled he was barging in your house like this.

"There's an entire army of vampires on the hunt for your sister. You're not safe here, I'm taking you to Emily's." he said as he grabbed a suitcase and started throwing random clothes in.

"You don't own me Paul Lahote. I'm not going anywhere with you." You crossed your arms as you looked at him incredulously.

He refused to look you in the eye as he spoke, his breathing heavy from your scent,

"It is still my job to protect you whether we're together or not. You don't have to talk to me at all if you don't want too, and you can sleep in the spare bedroom" He said as he continued to pack.

You laughed.

"Come to Emily's with her there? I think the fuck-"

"She's not there anymore."

"Ohhhh so because she's gone you care about me again."

He stopped, this time turning to look you in the eyes for the first time in two weeks.

"Don't you ever fucking say that. I could give a shit less about her. It's always been you. I'm....look, I'm sorry I didn't make you believe that before. You were right. And I was so unbelievably wrong. I understand why you don't want to be with me anymore. I'm not asking you to forgive me. Im asking, just for the time being, that you do this so that I know you are safe....please."

You wish you could have stopped the tears that welled up in your eyes. A part of you wanted to stay mad forever, just to make a point. But the other just wanted to wrap your arms around his neck and kiss him. Two weeks felt like two years apart from him, and your heart so desperately ached to be near him again.

"Fine," you whispered.

Paul looked like he wanted to say something more, his eyes lingering on yours, but he decided against it, zipping up your bag and heading to the truck.

-

Once you both arrived to Emily's the pack headed out to train with the Cullen's, leaving you both and Kim at the kitchen table.

"So you guys.....didn't make up?" Kim asked disappointed.

You shook your head, "He just wanted me here. He apologized and said he wanted me to be safe. It was left at that."

Emily reached her hand over into yours,

"Do you want to be with him?" She asked genuinely.

"I.....I mean," you sighed. "Of course I want to be with him. I just was so angry, you know?? I didn't like feeling that way in our relationship. Alone."

The girls nodded understandably.

"If it helps, he's been an absolute wreck without you. I think if anything it was a wake up call." Kim offered.

"I haven't been exactly living the best either," you slightly chuckled.

"Well. We are more than excited to have you back in the house. That being said, I'm going to need both of your help with dinner." Emily smiled as she looked at the clock, standing up.

You grinned, happy to at least be here with your friends.

-

It was the night before the fight. Everything was quiet, but you lie awake, your mind racing. You hadn't said much to Paul in the three days you were here. There were lingering stares, brushing past eachother occasionally in the hall, but no conversations had been had. You felt a pit in your stomach at the idea of this fight. What if something happened and you never got to see him again? What if the last thing you had between you two was this awkward tension? The more you thought about it, the faster the tears spilled down your cheeks. You sniffled hard.

A gentle knock at the door startled you, getting up you frantically tried to wipe them away.

There he stood on the other side, leaning against the frame. His eyes looked so exhausted, like he hadn't gotten sleep either in days. "Whats wrong?" He said softly, taking a look at your face.

His gentle voice was enough to send you flying into his embrace. You arms wrapped around him as you sobbed into his neck.

He held your waist as he walked you both backwards into the room, shutting the door. His hand caressed your face as he leaned his cheek on your forehead.

"Hey, hey. Shhhh. I'm right here. It's okay. You're okay. You're safe."

You leaned back just enough to look at him, shaking your head. Your voice was broken and trembling,

"I-I don't care that I'm safe. T-tomorrow. A-and you. What if we never-"

Paul used both hands to cradle your face.

"Hey. Listen to me. Everything will be okay. This is what we've been training for. It's us and the Cullen's against them, our numbers are stronger. I'll be fine, alright? I'm just happy you're here and away from harm."

"I can't live without you. I love you." You whispered.

Paul instantly kissed you. It was like a wave of relief and happiness washed over you as you kissed him back with every ounce of passion you could muster.

Both your tongues danced as you refused to pull away from eachother. Paul bent down only for a moment to hoist you up in his arms, taking you into his room instead.

Unfortunately due to advanced hearing, the house was no longer quiet that night.

[justnatoka]

The Lost Boys headcanons

How they would behave in a relationship

Warning: possessive behavior, some smut (mainly in Paul's and Marko's parts oops)

The reader is body and gender neutral.

David

He’s definitely the possessive type. You’re his and he lets everybody know it.

He either has his arm around your shoulder or his hands on your waist. He also probably gives you hickeys in very visible spots for the same reason ;)

Or he simply just hovers over you. Like all the time.

If someone tries flirting with you, he’s behind you in an instant, and all he has to do is look at them menacingly. You’re not even surprised anymore that every guy seem to run off scared after just a few words, even if they started talking to you for a completely innocent reason. Now you just turn around with a “really?”

I imagine him to be less into PDA. But when you’re just with the boys he sits you into his lap and rests his hand on your thigh while talking to the others.

He probably shows you more physical attention in front of them, because he’s more comfortable around them.

Even though he’s possessive, he doesn’t really get jealous, at least he tells himself he doesn’t. He trusts you and knows you wouldn’t cheat on him, it’s other people he doesn’t trust. Scaring off guys is just him protecting what’s his.

I can imagine him trying to control you in some small ways, like not letting you wear stuff that shown too much skin in public or trying to keep you from hanging out alone with guy friends that he doesn’t know well. It comes from his protectiveness over you. But I also think that if you talk to him about these things bothering you, he will stop doing it.

You’re one of the few people who can get him relaxed when he feels stressed out. Like when he comes back frustrated from a meeting with Max, or when leading the group and keeping them in line (looking at you, Marko and Paul) gets to him after a long day.

He just walks over to you and sinks into your embrace, resting his forehead against yours with eyes closed and just listening to you breath for a few minutes.

He likes it when you give him shoulder massages when he’s feeling tense. He probably also likes in when you make him tea to relax (though he wouldn’t admit that one).

Types of kisses: on your knuckles when he holds your hands. On your forehead. More passionate kisses on the lips when you’re alone. You’re his queen/king/precious person, and he definitely treats you like one.

His nicknames for you: kitten, darling, love

Dwayne

He’s a man of few words, who shows his love through his actions.

He’s a very attentive partner, always notices when you’re feeling tired, sad, stressed or anxious. He immediately gives you a questioning look or a soft “are you okay?” and makes sure to make you more comfortable.

Like he lets you play with his hand, caress his palm or fingers when you’re anxious and fidgety and need something to ground yourself with.

He’s also a good listener. He will gladly listen to you complain when you have a bad day, even if he can’t really give any advice.

I feel like he would try to learn as much about you as he could, so he can take better care of you. This obviously includes stuff like your interests or dislikes, but also a lot of small things, for example how you behave when you’re feeling sad or anxious, what are some unconscious habits you do when you’re deep in thought. He stores all this information in the back of his mind so he can use it later.

Like he observes how your eyes light up and your features change when you’re excited or happy about something, remembers what caused you to make that lovely expression and then makes sure to present you with that exact same thing later again and again so he can see you glowing like that again. He surprised you more than once with gifting you little things you briefly mentioned liking or being interested in.

He’s the type of guy who looks out for you all the time when you’re out at the busy boardwalk. He makes sure you’re always in his sight, and if he loses you, he will scan his eyes through the crowd until he finds you. In turn, if you get separated from the guys, your first instinct is to search for him, cause he’s tall and stands out anyway, but also you know he feels calmer when he can see you, even if you’re out of reach. You both feel relieved when you’re eyes finally meet through the gaps between the bodies of other people.

He’s probably more casual about PDA. He will hold your hand, wrap an arm around your shoulder or give you small pecks on the top of your head, on your cheeks or your lips.

He gives the best hugs. I mean he’s a big guy who can envelop you in his arms. When you’re having a bad day, all you have to do is ask for a hug, and you immediately feel better. I imagine that he likes hugging you from behind, pulling you to his broad chest.

Slow and deep kisses are probably his favorite.

His nicknames for you: sweetheart, honey

Paul

He’s very vocal about his love for you, the man is a flirting machine.

He’s also like a lovesick puppy, always excited to see you, always hungry for attention, and starts pouting if you don’t give him enough. He can be a bit needy at times.

Even though he can seem like a dumb blonde to the casual observer, he’s actually more in tune with your emotions than most people think. He can immediately tell when you’re feeling down, even if you try to hide it. You’re emotions also affect him a lot. When you’re sad, he’s also lethargic and does everything in his power to cheer you up, be it taking you out to have fun, staying at home and cuddle or shower you in small kisses until you start giggling.

On the positive side, when you feel happy, he’s absolutely in the clouds, and your giddiness feeds off of each other.

A LOT of PDA. He’s touching you all the time, holding your hand, pulling you into his side, hands on your legs if you sit next to him or in his lap, or quite literally draping himself all over you.

He also likes to use your legs as a pillow. Just imagine him totally high, babbling about random stuff that comes to his mind while laying his head on your lap, you running your hands through his hair.

Also, HIS HAIR. He loves it when you mess with it, doesn’t matter if it’s playing with the strands while listening to the others talk, or tugging on it in bed.

Yes, he’s an absolute manwhore in my humble opinion ;)

He’s definitely a switch in bed. Like he can be a dom and worship you, but he can also definitely be a sub and just fall apart under you, loving every second of it.

Ever since @sunkendreams said they think Paul likes it when you choke him, I can’t stop thinking about it.

I think he would also like it if you kiss his neck, or leave your mark on him by giving him hickeys. He would show off that shit so proud!

Lots if kisses all the time. He wouldn’t start making out with you in the middle of the boardwalk like Marko, but he would pepper small kisses all over your face, pecks on your lips. I feel like he’s the type who randomly starts kissing your neck while you lean on him regardless of the setting.

His nicknames for you: babe, dollface, beautiful

Marko

This guy is a fierce protector who isn’t afraid to get his hands dirty. I mean it’s known that most times he’s the first to jump into action when there’s a fight.

He can be a knight in shining patchwork jacket, but he can also be a little demon with the most angelic face when it comes to show you just how much he loves you.

He protects your honor then when you get back to somewhere private he doesn’t hesitate to absolutely ruin said honor, but in the most pleasurable way imaginable.

I’m sorry, but I’m just obsessed with the thought that he’s an absolute beast in bed.

But I think he’s also such a dork. I can imagine him grabbing your hand and pulling you into a dance in the middle of the boardwalk if he likes the music they play that night. And at the end he dips you back, his hand firmly holding your back, with the widest playful grin on his face, making you break out in giggles. Then he leans down to kiss you on the lips.

He’s not the jealous type, he has absolute confidence in himself and in your loyalty.

He’s big on PDA: holding hands, hand around your waist, probably groping your thighs or butt once or twice. He’s also not shy to kiss you in public. You’ve definitely had a few heated makeout sessions before against the railing of the boardwalk.

I think he also like catcalling you or whistling at you, but only if you’re also comfortable with it.

He basically loves to let everyone know that you’re his gorgeous partner as loudly and as visibly as he can get away with. He would shout his love to you on the top of his lungs if you hadn’t scolded him for it before.

But other than that time, you love it that he’s not shy about showing you his love.

Just like David, he would also definitely like giving you hickeys in very visibly places. I also imagine him to be a bit of a biter during sex, leaving small and harmless ones all over your skin that doesn’t even leave a mark, or ever getting a bit rougher and giving you ones that do. It all depends on what you like.

Cursing in bed in Italian ;)

His nicknames for you: sugar, baby

[sethsclearwater]

Okay possible imagine/blurb idea: Paul gets into a fight and gets arrested (by chief swan maybe??) and calls reader to pick him up and she’s pissed that he got in the fight in the first place so she takes her sweet time going to get him, she gets her nails done with Emily, she does some shopping, she gets a coffee. She finally picks him up and he’s about to be pissed off about her taking so long but she’s like ‘do it again and I’ll leave you there’ and he’s like 😔sorry ma’am😔

i'm obsessed with this lol

...

"you what?" you repeated back into the phone despite the fact that you'd heard your imprinter loud and clear the first time he said it.

"princess," paul sighed through the line and you almost lost your composure but quickly pulled it back together.

"don't call me that. what the hell were you thinking getting in a fight?" you asked, already knowing it was going to be something dumb. although paul had definitely learned to manage his temper once you came into his life, he still had his moments - especially when someone as annoying as your ex was involved.

"30 seconds remaining," an automated voice cut both of you off before either of you could continue.

paul let out another heavy sigh before continuing, "can you just come pick me up? i don't think incriminating myself over the phone is the best idea," he grumbled and you rolled your eyes, also letting out a loud sigh.

"i'll be there in a little bit. don't do anything stupid," you spoke into the phone before you hung up and emily, who had just picked you up from your apartment, burst into laughter.

"he got arrested? at 9 in the morning?" she laughed and you rolled your eyes, also cracking a smile when you realized just how stupid it was that he managed to get arrested by none other than chief swan (who had taken a bit of a liking to him recently too which made it all the worse that paul was currently sitting in some cell with chief swan monitoring him).

"apparently," you sighed, letting out a breathy laugh, "we can still go to port angeles though, i have until 5 to come get him." you added and emily's smile somehow got even wider.

"let's do it," she laughed before putting the car into drive so the two of you could continue on your shopping day.

--

by the time you had gotten back to la push, grabbed your car, and gotten over to the forks police station, it was 4:45 and paul had been stuck in there for almost an entire work day.

you did feel a tad bit bad that you'd left him in there for so long but you also knew he'd most definitely learned his lesson and wouldn't be doing this again anytime soon.

so, when you walked inside and filled out all the paperwork, chief swan brought your imprinter out who looked quite bothered to say the least.

"is that all you needed me to fill out?" you asked charlie as he uncuffed paul.

chief swan nodded, "you're all good to take him home," he reassured, "i just got off the phone with the other party and it doesn't sound like they're going to be pressing charges so you two should be all good. i'll come by if there's anything that changes," he added and you let out a sigh of relief, happy to know paul wouldn't be stuck doing court ordered community service or anger management classes thanks to a dumb one-off event.

"thank you," you flashed charlie a smile before you were grabbing your purse and heading outside, already knowing paul would be following shortly behind you.

as soon as you got in the car and paul got in the passenger side, you both finally turned your attention to each other, "8 hours? you know if it was you i would've-" he started but you quickly cut him off as you turned the car on.

"i wouldn't have been dumb enough to get myself into that situation in the first place. you're lucky i even came and got you - next time you're staying there," you threatened, suddenly much more annoyed with the fact that he was annoyed with you.

paul seemed a bit caught off guard by your sudden burst of confidence, staying quiet for a moment while he considered the pros and cons of getting into a fight with you about this.

after a few moments, he let out a sigh, nodding, "yes ma'am," he mumbled, dramatically leaning away from you so he could rest his head against the window while you drove the two of you back to your apartment.

you cracked a smile at his choice of words, reaching your free hand over to give his hand a gentle squeeze which he seemed to appreciate, quickly interlacing your fingers together so he could hold your hand for the ride home.

[vintagegeekculture]

Star Trek's "Lost" Main Character

Just when you think you know everything there is to know about the original Star Trek, you learn something new, like the fact someone you barely remember was going to be a series regular. Take the case of "Yeoman Smith," played by Andrea Dromm, a petty officer secretary in "Where No Man Has Gone Before." Everyone knows that Trek had a first pilot with a different cast. But the cast of the second pilot was analyzed more in terms of who wasn't there (Dr. McCoy and Uhura were added only when the show went to series and were not in the second pilot at all), than who was.

One character in particular is easy to overlook as she seemed like just another lowly and invisible crewman, Yeoman Smith. Surprisingly, Andrea Dromm was hired to be a main character on the show.

The NBC publicity materials made for the second pilot mentioned and discussed her as they would Kirk and Spock, and treated her as a series regular, which at the time, she was:

“YEOMAN SMITH, who has drawn the important assignment of secretary to the Captain on her first mission in deep space, is easily the most popular member of Kirk’s staff. A capable secretary and efficient dispenser of instant coffee, she also provides a welcome change of scenery for eyes that have spent long hours scanning the vast reaches of space.”

Almost from the beginning though, it was not to be. Andrea Dromm caused trouble on set because, according to Herb Solow, Gene Roddenberry "hired Dromm so he could 'nail her.'" Trek was in enough trouble, as Roddenberry cast his mistress, Rachel Lee Hudec (aka Majel Barrett), which violated his Desilu "virtue clause." Lucille Ball, embarassed by her former husband Desi Arnaz's well known extramarital antics, insisted on virtue clauses in contracts for creatives.

As for what happened and why Yeoman Smith never ended up being a regular, we have two different conflicting stories. Andrea Dromm said she had to choose between making Star Trek, or making a film, "The Russians are Coming," and she picked the movie over a less prestigious tv show. Star Trek producer Herb Solow tells a different story and remembers that "Yeoman Smith" was one of two main characters who were let go to keep costs down when the show went to series. The other main character fired? James Doohan as Scotty.

After being informed he was fired after the first pilot, Doohan called his agent, the physically intimidating and formidable Paul Wilkins, who convinced Roddenberry to return Doohan to the series. It is not known how this was accomplished (Herb Solow, who's memoirs are the basis of most of what we know about early Trek, was not present, only Roddenberry was), but Doohan had his job back within the day.

As for what would have happened with Yeoman Smith if she had stayed as a main character....who knows? The character of Yeoman Rand, well known for her beehive hairdo, was a replacement for her character, so it's likely that Yeoman Smith as a main character would have filled similar roles in stories, probably beat for beat and note for note. All the same however, it's hard to ignore how much more quiet moxie, no-bullshit stares, and extrovert elan Andrea Dromm projected on screen than the more subdued Grace Lee Whitney. Dromm's character was underdeveloped, sure, but so was Scotty and Sulu at that point, and the characters they eventually became were built around their actors' strengths and warmth. It's not hard to imagine something similar might be done with Dromm, and her character might have gone on very different lines from her replacement.

[jesncin]

I wonder what your design of Conner Kent would be like? What his relationship is with Jon, Clark, and Lois in your JL universe?

Meet (don't call me) Superboy! He's a clone of Superman developed by CADMUS in secret collaboration with LexCorp, for the purposes of "just in case anything happens to Superman". He's made from the DNA of Superman and Lex Luthor. What CADMUS doesn't realize is that Lex planted a trigger in Project Superboy so that he would prematurely break out of CADMUS' facility in what looks like a freak escape accident.

When Project Superboy wakes up, it's with false memories Lex planted into his mind. Superboy doesn't know much- he has a photo of what looks like him and his younger sister, and a mysterious untraceable walkie talkie relaying instructions he should follow if he wants to see his family safe again. Also he has superpowers?!

From what he remembers, he thinks his name is "Paul Westfield". He goes around America doing undercover odd jobs (unknowingly) for Lex Luthor. Sometimes it means breaking into facilities to retrieve something Lex needs and dropping it off at an undisclosed location. Despite instructions to stay hidden, Paul can't suppress his desire to help those in need when he comes by them. As he travels from town to town, Paul tries to unravel who he is and what's going on.

He'll eventually choose the name "Conner" for himself, but that's after the big mystery of his origin story! I'm in the process of fleshing out his character so we'll learn more about his relationships with Superman's cast as we go.

[alittlebitofloveliness]

It’s not until he’s already whaling on the kid that Paul realises exactly who it is he’s decided to jump.

He’d been out for a drive with Ty, shooting the shit and showing off the new Camaro his dad bought him for his birthday when they spotted the greaser kid- a guy with slicked back reddish brown hair, small but tough looking like all the kids from the east side, walking alone down one of the back roads. One look and a grin shared with Ty was all it took before he was shooting down the street, forcing the kid to jump into the ditch or risk getting run over.

Ty had laughed, mirth shining in his handsome green eyes as the greaser sprang to his feet, swearing colourfully. Paul wasn’t gonna pretend to have any sort of love for the east side, but he couldn’t deny that greaser folk didn’t turn out any sissies. For all the kid probably wasn’t more than fourteen, his greyish eyes didn’t show a trace of fear. Annoyance more than anything, and something that looked like…recognition, maybe? Didn’t matter much. What came next was the fun part- greasers didn’t break easy. It was always fun to see how much they could take before they finally started crying for their mothers.

In the time it took for Paul and Tson to get out of the car, the greaser had snatched up a broken beer bottle and leaned into a defensive slouch.

“Hey Buddy,” Ty grinned.

“Fuck off.” The kid spat, gripping the bottle tighter. Paul took a step closer to him and…there! The kid’s eyes- which had been laser focused on him and Ty- flashed left. 

“Not so fast,” Paul stepped sideways, effectively boxing the kid in. In the ditch, with a barbed wire fence from an old farm at his back, the camaro blocking any escape to the right, Ty in front of him, and now Paul at his left, the kid was well and truly trapped. Paul could see the moment he realized it, a flash of unease flitting over his face before smoothing into a tough mask once more.

“You know Ty,” Paul said, “I think this kid needs to learn some manners. And I think we should teach them to him. What do you think?”

Ty grinned. “Y’know Paul, I think you’re right.”

The kid spat at him. Saliva dripped down Ty’s face, his friend apparently too stunned to do anything but blink at him. 

The greaser snickered.

Paul lunged. 

For all the kid’s bravado and tough facade, even with that bottle in his hand, he’s still just a kid. Paul is twenty now, a linebacker for the University of Alabama, not afraid of a kid who could swing a bottle but not hard enough. He’s got him down in a second. 

The first punch shatters the kid’s nose, blood immediately pouring down his face. It still takes two more hits before he starts screaming. When he does, Paul’s blood runs cold

“Darry!” The kid, no longer tough looking by any means, cries out, “Darry help! Darry!”

The name, torn from the past Paul had worked so hard to forget, pulls him up short. He remembers now, Darry Curtis always speaking with fond exasperation about his two little brothers, about how one of them always tracked mud through the house and drove their mother crazy, and the other one climbed trees and got stuck in them because he couldn’t remember how to get down.

He also remembers the time Darry found out someone was picking on his brother, the one who was a freshman back when they were seniors. They practically had to peel the guy off the pavement when Darry was done with him.

Shit.

There’s a lot of things he remembers about Darry Curtis. He can’t decide whether they make him wish he’d punched the kid harder or never punched him at all.

The kid, Darry’s little brother, takes advantage of Paul’s brief distraction, bucking his hips and rolling. It’s a good maneuver, one that probably would have managed to throw Paul off if it weren’t for Ty grabbing the kid’s hair and slamming his head back against the ground.

Ty starts punching him then, and all Paul can do is sit there half frozen, seeing Darry’s eyes in someone else's face, his sharp jawline framing someone else’s mouth, his weird, sticking out ears on someone else’s head, all the features beat to a bloody pulp.

And all the while the kid keeps screaming.

“Darry! Soda! Help! Johnny, Steve, Dally, anyone! Please! Darry!”

It’s too much. Whatever he and Darry once had, whatever happened between them, no matter how bad it ended, it shouldn’t have come to this. There shouldn’t be a mixture of dark satisfaction and soul crushing guilt warring in his heart at the sight of Darry’s brother bloody and bruised. 

Ty’s fist raises once again and the kid on the ground flinches, cries.

Paul reaches out to grab Ty’s shoulder, to tell him it’s enough, that they should get out of here, to escape from the memories and the guilt and the rage.

He never gets a chance.

“‘Hey asshole!” Before he can grab Ty’s shoulder someone else grabs his shoulder and punches him hard enough he feels his teeth rattle in his skull. He stumbles back, clutching his cheek and looks up into the coldest eyes he’s ever seen, a glittering, intelligent, blue-so-deep-it’s-black shining with malice. A thick scar peeks out of his attacker’s hairline, but other than that the guy’s smooth brown skin is largely unmarked, features handsome in a dangerous sort of way. His head tilts, the way a cat’s might before it pounces on its prey, as he pulls a switchblade from his pocket, clicking it open. The handle is worn but the blade is no joke, six inches of razor sharp steel, glittering in the sunlight. 

Paul gulps. He’s not stupid enough to bring fists to a knife fight and he sure as hell doesn't have a blade on him.

The guy notices because he grins, revealing pearly white teeth and canines just a bit sharper than the average person’s.

Paul opens his mouth, to say what exactly he isn’t sure, but before he can he’s interrupted by a scream. Except this time it’s not the kid’s- it’s Ty’s.

He whirls with a gasp to see Darry Curtis on top of Ty, knuckles already bloody from hitting him so hard. Beside them, the greaser kid has managed to pull himself to his knees, an impressive feat considering the state he’s in.

Questions and emotions swirl through Paul’s head so fast he feels dizzy. How could Darry have snuck up on them so fast and so quietly? Did he really hear the kid screaming? Who’s the guy with him?

The guy with him…

His distraction is his fatal mistake, because he turned his back on the guy with the knife, who has him in a headlock with a blade against his throat before he can so much as yell.

“So,” the guy with the knife says in his ear. He’s disarmingly casual, for all he could kill Paul at any moment if he so chose, “you’re the famous Paul, huh?”

Fear, cold and paralyzing, floods through him.

“How the fuck do you know my name?”

The guy with the knife chuckles, grabbing him by the hair and forcing him to watch as Ty’s face gets bloodier and bloodier, his handsome features turned into a crime scene. There’s an almost animalistic rage in Darry’s eyes, a look Paul’s only seen once before, and he knows that when Darry pulls his punches it will only be because he feels justice has been served.

“I know everythin’ that happens in this town,” the knife at his neck doesn’t waver so much as an iota, as his captor laughs again, “and I heard a lot about you Paul Holden. Football star but never good enough to be captain. A bigger petty thief than half us east side boys, but daddy always bought you out of it. And apparently a big fan of jumping little kids- y’know, like a coward.”

Paul growls, trying to twist loose from the guy’s hold, but the greaser is stronger than his wiry frame belies, and he’s still got the advantage of a knife in hand. He presses it close enough that a small bead of blood wells against the steel and Paul stops struggling.

“Maybe I am a coward,” Paul grits out, panting, whether from fear or exertion he doesn’t know, “but Darry Curtis isn’t any braver than me.”

The knife bites into his neck a tad deeper. 

“Darry isn’t the one who just jumped a little kid.”

Paul grins. “That’s not what I meant.”

“You’re full of shit.” The guy’s voice is as measured and cool as ever, but the grip on Paul’s hair tightens painfully and he knows he’s hit a nerve.

“Maybe,” Paul admits, “but I’m not wrong. You’re his new guy, right? Well he fucks good but he’ll betray you in the end, just like he did me-”

A burning flash and his cheek is suddenly pouring blood.

“Watch. Your. Mouth.” The guy snarls, “Or next time I won’t just cut your pretty face I'll cut your damn throat.” 

Paul falls silent, not willing to call his bluff. Mostly because he isn’t entirely sure the guy is bluffing. Whoever Darry’s got himself mixed up with now is a whole lot more dangerous to him and probably for him than Paul ever was.

Figures.

He focuses back on Ty and Darry’s fight. Darry’s got a black eye and a small cut on his temple, so apparently Ty has managed to fight back a little, but he’s still a lot worse off, still pinned by Darry, face a twisted mess of what it once was.

“Darry,” the kid has managed to stumble to his feet, the eye that isn’t already swollen shut, wide and horrified, “Darry stop. C’mon, that’s enough, you're gonna kill him.”

Paul sees the moment Darry comes back to himself, watches as the feral look in his eyes melts into concern and pain so deep it would have cut twelfth grade Paul to the bone. Hell, it does something to him now.

“He deserves it, Ponyboy,” Darry says, “look what he did to your face!”

“I’m fine Dar,” the kid tries for a grin, but the blood in his teeth defeats the point of any sort of reassurance, “let’s just go home. Ain’t like he’s gonna try anything now.”

On the ground, Ty moans something incomprehensible. Shit, Paul’s going to have to take him to a hospital when they get out of this.

“Yeah,” Darry nods like he’s trying to convince himself, “yeah okay. Go ahead an’ git in the car okay? Me’n Tim’ll be there in a second.”

He’s talking full grease, the way he always used to when he was real upset, and Paul can’t help the satisfaction that runs through him at the sound of it. 

“Ok, just…don’t do anythin’ you’ll regret,” the kid starts limping in the direction of a beat up pickup truck Paul hadn’t noticed before, casting wary glances over his shoulder the whole time. He’s lifted the hem of his shirt to press against his nose but it doesn’t seem to be doing much to staunch the flow of blood.

Paul looks back at Darry and finds himself staring into the coldest eyes he’s ever seen. He used to think those eyes were beautiful, back in high school, when they twinkled with mirth or glittered with determination. Some part of him acknowledges that they’re still beautiful now, even filled with hatred. 

They stare at each other for a moment, Darry standing over the body of Paul’s new best friend who they both know is probably more than that, Paul with Darry’s new lover's knife held tight against his neck.

In those seconds he remembers everything they ever were, ever fought for, fought because of, why he left. He remembers meeting Darry in eighth grade and immediately being drawn to him in a way he could never properly explain. He remembers the first time they kissed, in tenth grade, the fear that had gripped him but the longing that had claimed him, making terror a backseat to passion. He remembers two years of dreaming, days and nights, soft lips and warm hands and a body like a greek god, remembers when longing gave way to love. He remembers screaming and fighting and words neither of them could ever take back. Remembers leaving. Remembers regretting it. Remembers trying to go back and Darry refusing him. Remembers heartbreak. Remembers rage.

Darry punches him.

Pain blooms across his jaw and he swears he feels a tooth crack, the only thing stopping him from hitting the ground the fact that Darry’s guy still has him in a vicelike grip.

“If you ever,” Darry spits through gritted teeth, and there’s no forgiveness in those eyes, no nostalgia, only hate, “lay a finger on my little brother again, I swear to god I’ll kill you.”

He won’t, Paul knows, because Darry is and always has been too good for this earth, and that hasn’t changed even if he now wears anger the way he used to wear arrogance- but he isn’t going to test that theory. There’s plenty of other greaser kids to jump that don’t come with dredging up the worst memories of his past.

Darry gives him one last disgusted look and spits at his feet, before his gaze slides to Paul’s captor. Tim, Darry had called him earlier.

“Ready to go?” The ever so slight softness in Darry’s eyes when he looks at Tim- crazy fucking Tim who is holding Paul at knifepoint- shouldn’t bother him nearly as much as it does. The fact that it bothers him at all leaves a bitter twist in his stomach.

“Yeah,” Tim agrees, “I'll be there in a second. You go check on the kid, the way he was walkin’ I think he mighta sprained his ankle.”

Darry nods, concern lighting once more in his eyes, and he jogs over to the car, immediately shaking his kid brother awake who had fallen asleep against the window.

Tim’s knife skates over Paul's neck, not deepening the shallow cut, but definitely drawing it longer.

“Listen here Holden,” he practically croons, pulling Paul’s head back, “you and I both know Darry would never make good on his promise. I on the other hand,” the knife flashes and Tim opens yet another cut on his cheek. Paul howls. “Have no such qualms. So if you go near any of the Curtis boys ever again, I will kill you.” His voice softens, a murmur so low Paul can hardly hear it despite Tim being quite literally right beside him, “I’ve done it before. I know how to not get caught. So if you think for a second that I am lying…”

He turns Paul in his grip so they’re suddenly face to face. 

“Call my bluff.”

He shoves him, hard, and Paul stumbles back, landing hard on his ass beside Ty who seems only semi conscious, lying supine on the ground. 

Tim smiles, like he didn’t just threaten Paul’s life and confess to murder in the same breath, before turning on his heel and making his way over to the car, climbing into the driver's seat.

Paul’s past and his new bogeyman drive away and he sits in the ditch for a long time, too terrified- or maybe just too shocked- to move.

[kteezy997]

The Heart of a Bene Gesserit- Part Four//Paul Atreides//Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen

Warnings: cursing, smut, threesome, f and m receiving oral sex

“As a Bene Gesserit, I feel that it is my duty to see how you are being treated here. But please trust that I have no ulterior motives. I’m not wholly certain of the conditions of the slave quarters, but I’d like to find out.”

“Well, the food is shit, they give you just enough water to stay alive after being out in the scorching desert all day, and the beds here are hard and cold, but other than that, it is rather pleasing.” the biting sarcasm from the youngest Harkonnen was palpable.

“Mm-hmm.” you nodded, “I will speak to the Emperor, he needs to be more generous to the men who mind his spice. What you have is not enough.”

“That is very honorable of you…”

“Y/n.”

“Y/n.” he said your name, smiling and giving you a glimpse of his teeth. “But I fear that your suggestions will fall upon deaf ears. I cannot blame Atreides, if our roles were reversed, I'd have him enslaved as well, or I'd have just killed him. Our families have held hatred for one another for centuries, you should already know that."

“But he shouldn’t hate you, Feyd. You were just a boy, the same as Paul, when his father was killed. You were not a conspirator against the Atreides.”

“I have to ask: why are you lending yourself to my cause? Is it because Atreides has rejected your advances? Has he refused to give you the heir you were sent to acquire?” his dark eyes narrowed down at you, putting you on the spot.

You shook your head, “How did you know about the mission?”

Feyd-Rautha shrugged, “People talk. We don’t have much down here besides talk of spice. But the slaves have learned much about you, y/n.”

“Hm.” you huffed, “Well, you may know that I never did advance on Paul. He is my friend.”

“Friend? An Emperor has no friends, only followers.” he knew this to be true, as he was almost Emperor himself.

“Paul and I knew each other as children on Caladan.”

His non-existent brows raised up, he blinked slowly, “Oh, a childhood crush, is it?” he smirked.

You looked down, "I do not wish to speak of this."

"I suppose he rejected you, and now you're bored, so you're after the next best thing-"

"Silence!" you used the Voice.

Feyd's eyes closed, the movement of his mouth ceased against his will. "I see you've mastered the Voice."

"I am Bene Gesserit, of course I have. They do not let you graduate without doing so."

"I can also see that this is a sensitive topic for you, so I'll change the subject." Feyd slowly walked over toward the shadow edge of the roof. "I have a request for you, since Atreides won't likely show me any kindnesses."

You were intrigued, but also worried at what he could have wanted from you. "What is your request?"

"Get me off-world, back to Geidi Prime. Somewhere I can hide out from the Emperor."

"Feyd, he would kill you if he even knew you asked me that." youj warned.

"Precisely. Which is why he would never know."

You sighed, "You have given me much to consider, but I should be leaving. I have a feeling we are being watched by one of the servants."

Feyd gave you a smirk, "Well darling, if I knew we were being watched, I would have given them a show."

........

You left Feyd-Rautha and the slaves' quarters, returning to your wing of the House. You felt a little bit exhausted after your conversation with the Harkonnen and all the thoughts of Paul's reaction. You just wanted to sleep. You couldn't believe how quickly your life had come to revolve around two men.

You found yourself wrestling with thoughts of them both. You loved Paul Atreides, but there was something charming and also forbidden about his cousin Feyd. Were you attracted to the anti-Paul?

You took an afternoon nap, and your dreams became increasingly indecipherable from reality. First, there was Paul, your sweet Paul, his rich, dark curls falling in his face. The look of tenderness on his face warmed you up from the inside out. Then, the smooth, naked skin of Feyd-Rautha, his piercing eyes sending chills all down your body.

In this dream, you were in bed. Were they, taking turns with you? Feyd was waiting patiently by the bed, while Paul was kissing you all over. You were naked and breathless, trembling, even.

Paul had moved his face between your legs, flicking his Fremen blue eyes up at you. He started to lap his tongue between your folds. But it seemed that Feyd was having a difficult time only watching. As Paul sucked at the tiny bundle above your opening, you felt the bed sink at your side.

Feyd placed his big hand on your head, smoothing your hair back. He traced his fingers along your face, trailing down your chin, your chest, all to cup your breast in his hand. You gasped as he pinched your nipple.

Paul nibbled and kissed your inner thighs and rubbed your clit with his fingers.

You noticed Feyd's other hand at his waistband, and he pulled his pants down. Your eyes met his pale, veiny cock as he brought it to your lips. You opened your mouth, obediently, inviting his length. You moistened him with your saliva, sucking as best as you could.

Paul was moving up your body, his lips traveling along your stomach. He too, cupped your breast. Each man held your breasts, and your nipples hardened against their palms.

Paul's face was now close to yours as you had Feyd's cock in your mouth. He watched you, adjusted his body between your legs. You could then feel the tip of his cock prodding at your wet entrance.

You were then in a horny daze as you were abruptly woken by a servant barging into your bedroom.

"Sorry to wake you, my lady, but it is time for dinner."

"Who gave you the right to barge into my room while I'm sleeping?" you barked, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes.

"Well, His Majesty, the Emperor, does, my lady."

You rolled your eyes, "Of course he does."

…….

That evening at dinner, you didn’t sit next to Paul, you didn’t talk to him, you didn’t even look at him. You wanted him to feel your absence, your neglect of him. He had been cold and rude toward you, so why should you warm up to him?

As you ate, you looked over at Gurney Halleck, sensing something about him. You were nearly positive you were being watched with Feyd-Rautha earlier. Gurney was behind it, you were certain. But why? Was it Gurney acting alone in his suspicion of you? Or did Paul put this into place?

As the meal ended, you made it a point to get up from your chair and simply head back to your room, without trading words or even a glance with Paul. No Bene Gesserit tricks, as you promised. You would get him to come to you, if he so wished, the natural way. Deprivation.

It was nary a moment after you closed your bedroom door before there was a knock. You knew who it was. You opened the door, “Paul.”

“Y/n.” said the Emperor. “Are you alright? I heard you spent the whole afternoon in your room. You did not come to council. Are you ill?”

“No, I am not ill. You should not bother yourself with worry about me, Paul Atreides. You have much more important duties.”

“You know you are important to me.” he said, resting his hand on the door frame. “You are my one true friend. As long as you are alive, I will care for you. That is all this is.”

“A true friend? Is that why you sent a spy for me?”

@gatoenlaciudad @thebetawolfgirl @musicandbooksaremyhappyplace @softhecreator @tchalamss @lixzey @bitchyunknownuser @ducktapebar @aoi-targaryen @yukideadinside @elloise0 @thatoneweirdgirl17 @mel-vaz @sammy-halpert @iwishchalamet @that-one-fangirl69 @jindongdongie @briefkittenearthquake