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blueparadis · 9 months

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꒰ I HOPE THAT YOU THINK OF ME ꒱ ⋮ GETO SUGURU →[ CONTENT & TAGS ] :: f!reader × geto suguru, angst, unrequited feelings, mixed feelings, first kiss, suggestive, slice of life, canon divergent, no manga spoilers but I wrote his character based on the first scene of the first episode. characters_ mention of gojo ( there is no Suguru without Satoru), mention of shoko, utahime, mei mei, yu, nanami. back to blog navigation.

Rain in Tokyo has always come with a touch of melancholy for Geto Suguru. It reminds him of the dread in the eyes of mundanes. It reminds him how in weather like this cursed spirits pop like soda bubbles, it is everywhere. But certainly, sometimes it becomes a little less desolate with Satoru, Shoko, and his beloved juniors around, that is, Yu and Nanami; only a little though. Today's downpour is nothing spectacular. The splattering raindrops are hitting the window pane persistently. It has been like that for hours even though the weather forecast did not foretell such heavy rainfall. The college hours have already been over but he is stuck here due to rain along with some other students and teachers. He thinks it might be a curse to be the cause of such poor weather. Heck! If this continues some might have been asked to go for a scrutiny. Teachers at Jujutsu High are extremely fond of practical work. If only the rain had started just after he reached his home, he would not have hated it so much. Every time it rains, either he is outside or stuck somewhere or forgets to bring an umbrella. And, on the days when he is cautious enough for bringing a raincoat as well as an umbrella, there are roses and sunshines everywhere. It is annoying. Why does the weather always be so treacherous?

“What's up?” Satoru asks leaning against the the desk, “Did you two fight again?” He takes his place beside Suguru keeping one foot on the bar of his friend’s chair. He loves the rain, in fact, he would not have bothered to run in the rain just to go home but then, he would have been greeted by a cold soon; enough to miss some days for college. So, he always carries an umbrella. But he can not leave his dear friend alone, especially in the times of wailing agony. He refuses to give him some moments of peace.

Suguru who was staring at the rain shifts his head towards his friend with no dunes and crescents over his forehead. His forearms are now resting on the desk which was supporting his sad face before. His eyes gauge Satoru. “Suguru, can you hear me? Are you okay?” Again with the theatrics. If his mind would not have been occupied by you, he would have been definitely annoyed by Satoru.

“with whom?” Suguru deadpanned. He can not let Satoru be a part of this, he can not let Satoru know what happened between you two the last weekend. So, he tries to play safe by asking ‘whom’ instead of ‘why do you think so’ which would have meant the gulf between you two is highly bothersome to him and Satoru would not have shut up about it for days.

“You know who,” Satoru can not help but smirk. He was just standing near your desk with Shoko before coming to him. Normally, you either sit in front of Suguru or by his left side. The right side is always occupied by Satoru. Shoko sits beside you. It's fixed. No one dares to dismantle this chain of friendship. But today, you sat at the first bench at the rightmost corner. The whole class has come to know the turbulence between you two by now. If that is not the case, some would have assumed it and some who are curious might have asked you why are you sitting here? So away from your dear friend. . .

Suguru rolls his tongue inside his mouth being cornered by Satoru like this. He does not have the energy to fight or avert him. He wants to but right now he can not afford to do so. He is trying his best not to look at you and make it obvious for Satoru, to confirm his confusion that something is going on between you two. “oh! C’mon ya'know you can tell me about it...” Satoru presses further.

A thunder flashes breaking the sky apart illuminating the classroom like being in the brightest daylight. Your shoulder reflexively contorted, heartbeat gets louder as if your heart just shifted in your ears. Shoko composes herself as she laughs seeing you jerk, enough to feel tears at the edge of her eyes. It is not natural for you to be frightened by lightning.

“Are you okay?” Shoko tries to breath in between her laughter ceasing it momentarily. “you startled me too” She mutters and glances at Suguru for a second. Many others also got shocked by the sudden tremendous thunder. It is natural but you had the most reaction almost losing your balance on chair probably because of the headsets you had. Rain and music always made you forget about this wretched world that you belonged and no matter what you could never turn your back to it. But even if it is just for a moment, would it really hurt?

Shoko is not the only one who had a reaction to you. Suguru had too. His eyes are now on you, your face that is marked with wide eyes and a warm laughter looking at Shoko. He almost left his seat when you lost your balance. Damn it. Why do you always affect him in the worst possible ways?

“Is y/n here?” You recognise that voice. Kouske enters the classroom with Mei Mei and the bruised skin of you heart are in tatters now. He looks around for a few seconds till his eyes land on you. “I was here for work but with this weather, i figured I might as well drop you home, or take you home.” He stated with a warming smile keeping his hand on your desk leaning a bit.

Seeing Mei Mei, Shoko might have gone to look for Utahime so Kouske can not be kept occupied like usual. Suguru’s jaw muscles shifted. He stretched his arms forward on the desk dipping his head in between them. “I kissed her.” Satoru’s eyes dilate at the confession. “Last Saturday.” Suguru raised his head to look at his friend and then at you. “At the cafe near her house. She was crying over—

“Are you seriously serious? You know the risks of your—

“—of my feelings? my actions? Yeah, I know. I know Sah-toru.” Geto takes a glace at Satoru before leaving his seat. Walking toward Kouske he exclaimed with a neutral tone,“What’s up Kou-san?” He stands beside your desk. “I heard about your first job. Congratulations on your first paycheck — As they kept talking Suguru rested one of his arms at the back of your chair. If you lean you would feel his skin burning against yours, just like that day, just like when he kissed you.

That day, it was raining like this too. At the back alley of the cafe near your house when you told him how your family wanted you to marry the next family head of Hirahara, when you told him that it was Kouske, when you were bowing your head down unable to meet his eyes because yours were so full of woe Suguru held your hand. He held your hand making you pause your talk and when you looked at him his fingers found it's way in between yours filling the gaps. He squeezed your hands, his lips distorting in guilt before it touched yours.

The first kiss tasted nothing like you had read or heard and indeed, nothing like you had imagined. He slipped his palm through your loose hair along your cheeks to get more of you but you pushed him, turned around, and left. You kept running and running and running; never looked back.

You had not picked up any calls, neither reapended to any messages since then. Suguru must be thinking you were avoiding him but that was not the case. You were avoiding your ex-boyfriend, Kouske. You wish you could curse him, like normal people have the privilege, when talks of your marriage started to unfold around the Hirahara family. The rainfall became more vivid coating the streets and the playground in white. Kouske pauses Geto for a second and takes your hand in his and places a soft kiss. “I’ll be waiting for you in my car, love.”

“Let’s go.” He states and Geto tags along. He waves at Satoru and he joins too. Before exiting the classroom, he looked back and a shiver ran down your spine. His look was so full of rage and jealousy minutes ago and now there is only disgust. It was hard to understand if you were the stimulus or was it Kouske? About an hour after you see Geto walking alone through the corridor. As you get out of the room, you found him leaning against the wall. You walk towards him while his eyes focused on you.

You open your mouth trying to thank him for cutting in and saving you from his attention earlier because the more you avoid Kouske, the more he gets irritated and greater are the chances of this marriage proposal to fail.

But seeing you avoiding him, he caved in finally. “The rain stopped. Shouldn't you hurry to your fiancé ?”

“He is not my fiance.”

“Well, not yet.” You sigh heavily letting him know that his presence is as suffocating as Kouske’s. “but he is your ex.”

“I just wanted to thank you — You start and instantly regret. You turn on your heel without wanting to see his reaction. He is surely unaware of his mistake he committed last Saturday and he is not showing any signs of it till now. You just kept overthinking about something which was not worth it.

Suguru turns around and walks close enough to stand behind you. “don't get the wrong idea, princess. I didn't do it for you, I did it for myself.” He whispered near your ears rousing goosebumps on your nape. When you snapped your head back at him he was already walking away. You were still standing in the corridor, watching your friend walk away. He must really hate you for what you did.

Suguru smiled to himself. He might be selfish for stealing your first kiss, ruining the friendship you had with him, but at least every time it rains you will think of him. There is a strange sense of satisfaction for what he did and why he did. Of course he has no chance of winning you, neither get at par with Kouske but the jealousy of seeing you with another man drives him nuts. He will devour every touch, every voice and every pair of eyes that has on you but will never give you the power to shoo him away. He will do that by himself, so that every time a man haunts you he is the only one to put an end to it, to be the cause and then cease it, the suffering.

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ex-furry · 2 years

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bookshelf tour? :O

because it rotates i'd have to take a million pictures to give you an actual tour but i do have a list of the books on my shelf and desk that i made in preparation for The Great Reorganization. if read more cuts still don't work on mobile i am sorry 🙏

on my black penguin classics shelf i have:

city of god by saint augustine

the canterbury tales (middle and modern english) by chaucer

a journal of the plague year by daniel defoe

the monk by matthew lewis

the crucible by arthur miller

frankenstein by mary shelley

fanny hill by john cleland

war and peace by leo tolstoy

women in love by d. h. lawrence

my thesis ("villainous pardoners and preachers: christian satire in chaucer's canterbury tales and sinclair lewis's elmer gantry") is also on this shelf lol. and on top of my bookshelf i have a children's illustrated edition of the pilgrim's progress by john bunyan. i meant for my mom to buy the penguin classics version but she got tricked into buying that edition but it's honestly okay bc the illustrations are nice i think

the rest of my bookshelf is organized alphabetically by the author's last name

beowulf by anonymous

little women by louisa may alcott (severely aware that it should go little women and then beowulf but i'm too dedicated to the idea of beowulf being first. maybe that means i should order these chronologically in The Great Reorganization)

confessions by saint augustine

six of crows and crooked kingdom by leigh bardugo

the diviners and lair of dreams by libba bray

jane eyre by charlotte brontë

alice's adventures in wonderland by lewis carroll

i am one of you forever by fred chappell

beastie boys book by michael diamond and adam horowitz

the miraculous journey of edward tulane and the tale of despereaux by kate dicamillo

robinson crusoe by daniel defoe

crime and punishment and the idiot by fyodor dostoevsky

the great gatsby by f. scott fitzgerald

water for elephants by sara gruen

rebel of the sands by alwyn hamilton

dune by frank herbert

a thousand splendid suns by khaled hosseini

televangelist by ron johnson (a book that i was going to use for my thesis until i realized how poorly written it was lol)

illuminae, gemina, and obsidio by amy kaufman and jay kristoff

it by stephen king

elmer gantry and it can't happen here by sinclair lewis

the restoration and the eighteenth century norton anthology (volume c)

the paper menagerie and other stories by ken liu

a burning by megha majumdar

one hundred years of solitude by gabriel garcía márquez

convenience store woman by sayaka murata

i'll give you the sun by jandy nelson

a monster calls and more than this by patrick ness

hamnet by maggie o'farrell

wonder by r. j. palacio (feel like i'm alone in not liking how this one ends)

bridge to terabithia by katherine paterson

again, but better by christine riccio

esperanza rising by pam muñoz ryan

aristotle & dante discover the secrets of the universe by benjamin alire sáenz

okay for now by gary schmidt

the invention of hugo cabret by brian selznick

the norton shakespeare complete collection

frankenstein by mary shelley (in a different edition)

a far cry from kensington, loitering with intent, and the prime of miss jean brodie by muriel spark

east of eden by john steinbeck

dracula by bram stoker

the joy luck club by amy tan

roll of thunder, hear my cry by mildred d. taylor

the castle of otranto by horace walpole

and i darken by kiersten white

everything, everything by nicola yoon

and then i have the overflow on my desk. most of it is stuff i've had to read for this semester

the fact of a doorframe, selected poems 1950-2001 by adrienne rich

collected poems by carol ann duffy

the color purple by alice walker

main street, arrowsmith, and babbitt by sinclair lewis

a webster's crossword puzzle dictionary compiled by jane shaw whitfield

the waves and mrs. dalloway by virginia woolf

invisible man by ralph ellison

a children's bible by lydia millet

countdown by deborah wiles

the hobbit and the fellowship of the ring by j. r. r. tolkien

entitled by kate manne

things fall apart by chinua achebe

the plague by albert camus

selected prose of t. s. eliot

catch and kill by ronan farrow

collected poems, 1909-1962 by t. s. eliot

saints and villains by denise giardina

justice by michael j. sandel (derogatory)

jesus and creativity by gordon kaufman

the christological controversy by richard norris

the black christ by kelly brown douglas

creation and the cross by elizabeth johnson

the nature and destiny of man, volumes 1 & 2 by reinhold niebuhr

i also have a bunch of books upstairs from when i was a kid but those r not important. haven't touched them in a Long time but there's a ton of them

#now that i'm graduating i can buy the books that i want to buy and actually read them though. v exciting #we also own the rest of lotr and dune but those books are my dad's. the fellowship of the ring is technically but it's on my desk rn #so it is mine.#i also have the last copy of my school newspaper on my desk and two copies of the school magazine #both different volumes #long post #i need to put my miley cyrus ''autobiography'' down here. for the aesthetic

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potatohoon · 12 days

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CALL YOU A DARLING

☆ pairing: crush! park sunghoon x fem! reader ☆ word count: 884

☆ genre: fluff ☆ warnings: none, except kissing and bad writing

☆ notes: this had been in my drafts since like almost a month and i had no idea, this is non idol au, i have written this with a female reader in mind although it hasn't been mentioned in the actual story, this is really cringey and thank you for reading :))

You skipped lightly to the library to work on your project with Sunghoon, your hair slightly bouncing along with your steps. They conveyed your enthusiastic and elated self as you moved. You thanked all the gods when your professor announced that you and he would be partners for the upcoming project. It's been two weeks now and you're as ecstatic today as you were on that day to meet Sunghoon. After all, who wouldn't be?

A carefree grin spread across your face as you stepped inside the library, your heart beating faster as you spotted Sunghoon in a corner. You slowly approached his table, as he looked up from where he was sitting at his desk, his face breaking into a wide smile. "Hey there," he greets, motioning you to take the seat next to him. You oblige perching yourself on the chair next to him.

"So how was your last class?" he asks leaning his head on his palm as a small smile settles on his face. "It went fine," you say as you take out your textbooks and materials to work on your project. "How was yours?" you ask back, genuinely curious to know about Sunghoon's day. "It went fine, Mr. Kim was annoying as usual, but yeah, that's it", he finishes off nodding his head as he says the last words. It's a simple action yet it makes your heart flutter. He takes notice of the textbooks laid out and opens the screen of his laptop, getting ready to continue his research for the project.

"Oh, did you watch the new Dune movie yet? I heard some good reviews about it," he asks, his eyes fixed on the screen of his laptop. "No, I watched the first part with Yuna and it wasn't really to my taste, so I'm not planning on watching the second part," you reply. Sunghoon smiles softly before speaking, "You didn't like that movie, so what do you like then?"

You look at him, watching as his slender fingers tap the keypad of his laptop. "I…I like you, yeah", you confess, as the air in the room suddenly shifts and it seems as if the world around you stops moving. His fingers stop doing their tapping action as he turns towards you to register what you just said, his eyebrows raised in surprise and amusement. A blush starts creeping from your neck to stain your entire cheeks as you take in what you just said.

You stammer, fumbling as you try to find the right words to take back what you just said, but they seem to have deserted you. Sunghoon chuckled softly, a warm sound that you swear makes your heart skip a beat every time he does it. "You like me?" he repeats, arching an eyebrow with a playful smirk on his face. You feel your insides twist into knots as you try to find the correct response.

"Sunghoon it's not what it seems li-" before you could say something further, he leans forward and pulls you towards him, his lips meeting yours in a soft peck. The contact sent a jolt of electricity through you, making you come to terms with what was happening. Park Sunghoon was kissing you. His lips were warm and supple against yours and you could feel the rush of his heartbeat become steady as you kissed him back.

He pulls away, smiling down at you, his eyes twinkling with amusement and something deeper, something which makes your heart flutter even more. "I like you too, you know if it wasn't obvious", he says breaking the tension and confusion you held. He raises his hand to brush a strand of hair away from your face.

Your cheeks start to cool down as they lose their flush, yet you still feel a little breathless. "You're so cute like this," he says as he pats your head gently. "Can I kiss you again, pretty?" he asks despite knowing the answer as his gaze falls down to your lips. You nod your head slowly yet eagerly. "Yes, I want you to kiss me," you reply, hoping to convey your desire without sounding too eager or desperate. He smiles before pressing his lips against yours again, this time more firmly but still with the same tenderness. As you kiss, his hands wrap around your waist and hold you close. When you reciprocate his affection with the same intensity, you start to feel yourself melting into him.

You both finally break apart, gaze lingering and atmosphere heavy. You look at Sunghoon, your eyes shining with joy. He opens his mouth to speak, "How about this, I take you out on a date if we finish this project by today, hm?" he gestures to the paperwork spread out on the table across. "You nod your head and feel a warm sensation spreading across your chest, "I suppose that works," you agree. He reaches over and takes your hand, raising it to his face as he kisses it with a smile.

You return to work with him, eagerly anticipating what is ahead. You wonder where he will take you on your date and what will happen afterward. You don't know the answers to those questions, but you've been promised a date with him, which is enough for now.

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#sunghoon x reader #sunghoon fluff #enhypen x reader #enhypen fluff #enhypen angst #enhypen fic #enhypen fanfiction #enha x reader #enhypen imagines #enha fluff

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rosewaterandivy · 2 months

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Ernest Frank only has lovely things to say about you

Another Thursday morning in Mr. Moore’s home room to which Eddie is, as always, late. He prizes the white tardy slip between his fingers and tosses it on the baseball coach’s desk before slipping into his usual seat.

Right behind you, of course.

The composition book slaps against the wood laminate of the desk while he scrambles for a pen in his bag. His hand flexes in the various recesses of the backpack only to come up empty.

He sighs and rolls his head back to stare at the white ceiling tiles. He contemplates his options.

Eddie could ask Wheeler or Buckley, both only a row or two over from him and obnoxiously prepared for a day of classes.

Or he could ask you and risk disrupting your reading of… Dune? A book he definitely fell asleep reading and subsequently had given up the ghost only to reread The Fellowship of the Ring once more.

Only he’d never exactly gotten the courage to speak to you despite his many opportunities to do so. As member for NHS, it’d been a near miss that he’d lucked out with Wheeler as his tutor instead of you. And on one particular Hellfire night when he was walking back to the drama room, he’d passed the debate club mid-Lincoln Douglas prep when you’d inadvertently made some sophomore cry over being anti-death penalty.

You were smart. And you were scary. You were scary smart. But in a way that made him pop a semi in Government during yet another one of your tirades about the separation of church and state while the rest of the class rolled their eyes and complained.

He eyes the clock above the chalkboard, hands counting down the mere minutes left before the bell for first period. And yet again, he’s wasted another opportunity to talk to you.

Slinging a bag over your shoulder, you give him a small smile and wave to Nancy on your way out.

The bell trills out signaling yet another educational experience at Hawkins High, when he spies a worn and battered book left behind in your desk.

Grabbing the paperback before he can think better of it, Eddie realizes that he has no way to get it back to you. The debate team leaves for a tournament today, which means you won’t be in class this afternoon to hem and haw about the three branches of government.

He pockets the book and figures he’ll get it back to you later next week.

At least, that’s the plan. But then he starts reading it again, your copy this time, and finds that he can’t put it down.

He’s so invested, in fact, that he does end up borrowing a pencil from Buckley and writes his thoughts in the margins. Doesn’t even realize what he’s doing until it’s too late. Just knows that he wants to talk to you about the Atreides and Harkonnens and the Kwisatz Haderach and the Fremen.

Eddie finishes the book just in time for home room with Mr. Moore on Monday. Drops the book unceremoniously on your desk and tosses his tardy pass to the coach as he takes his seat.

Holding the book in one hand, you thumb through the pages and scan his notes.

“Thought you didn’t crack books Munson, much less annotate them.”

“I read,” He quips back, affronted by your lazy drawl and smirk.

“Well, I distinctly remember you saying that you didn’t.”

“Much.” He supplies, smiling as you finally turn around with a raised brow. “I believe the question was if I read much.”

“And you said no.” You shake the copy of Dune, all 896 pages of it.

There’s a small furrow between your brows as you weigh the semantics of the conversation. He decides that it’s cute and vows to make you replicate it as many times as he can get away with.

“Well,” he sighs out with a slight shrug. “What is ‘much’?”

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #Eddie Munson fanfic #eddie munson fluff

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paddockbunny · 10 months

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From List A - 103, 163, 306 with Lando Norris maybe?

Gentle Touch

Summary : You and Lando were best friends, so what is an innocent massage between friends? Rating : 18+ Pairing : Lando Norris x Reader Word Count : ONE SHOT!!!!!! Trigger Warnings : 18+, NSFW, adult language, best friend trope, PinV sex Images : curated from Pintrest & edited by me.

List : A List Prompt : 103 - “Relax”. 163 : “You don’t have to be so shy around me, y’know?” 306 : “Stop. I’m supposed to be making you feel good”

You and Lando had been friends for years. You first met him through Max – who you had gone to school with – while you were dating Max’s other best friend James. It was one of those things where the stars all seemed to align at just the right time. Lando and Max were in the throws of setting up what was now known as Quadrant. A well-timed quip from James about how you spent hours gaming and quote “neglecting you girlfriend-y duties” (aka shagging) meant Lando invited you to join almost instantly. You suspected it was because a girl would bring a good element of diversity (and male subscribers) but you were more than welcome to ditch your shitty retail job for the chance. Subsequently it meant you had been given amazing opportunities and had travelled all over the world thanks to Quadrant. You got to go ATV riding through sand dunes in Abu Dhabi, koala feeding in Australia and partying in too many nightclubs and on too many yachts to even remember where you actually were and when. Safe to say you dumped James pretty quickly after landing the gig. He did nothing but made you decision seem like a betrayal and as though you had chosen Lando and Max over him. Now, with hindsight you probably did choose Lando and Max over James but you thanked your lucky stars that you did.

Landing in Nice airport with the guys was always fun and full of expectation. You had been once before but this year, this weekend was going to be a week unlike any other now Lando had moved here and knew the place like the back of his hand. The Grand Prix was the perfect backdrop to a weekend full of laughs, filming and partying. Well, it should have been. The issues began back in Heathrow airport. You were always the most organised out of all of the boys and so there you stood precisely 3 hours before your departure time, passport in hand and front of the queue when the check in bag drop opened. Except, the words you weren’t expecting to hear “I’m so sorry to have to inform you of this but unfortunately the flight has been over booked” came flowing out of the uniformed girl behind the desk. You gingerly asked what that meant – semi hopeful you had actually been bumped up to first class – to only be met with; “So the aviation team have rebooked you on our next available flight which is at 21 hundred this evening.” Fuck. You explained you were a part of a group and you were needed in Monaco for work as you were working the Grand Prix (a slight exaggeration but she didn’t know that) but it fell on deaf ears. So what else could you do? You had no choice but to agree to it or else you wouldn’t be going to Monaco at all. It irked and annoyed you that you watched the rest of the boys all wave as they ascended through toward security and you had no option other than to sit in the departures check in area and twiddle your thumbs.

After several monotonous, boring hours of trying hard not to look at your phone – or the time – you decided to call Lando and tell him you would be coming in later that the rest of the gang. His phone rang and rang until finally when you thought about giving up he answered. He sounded out of breath. “Sorry, I was in the shower.” Nice image (you wanted to say but a part of you knew that might come across as creepy). “I thought you would be on the flight?” And then you told him before you were met with a roar of laughter.

“Oh yeah just make fun of me Lando. It’s just my fucking luck!” You exclaimed, not caring who could overhear you. Thing was this wasn’t the first time this had happened. You were cursed. When you flew out to the Miami Grand Prix you were stuck in coach when the boys all got upgraded. When you went to Australia one of your bags went missing and you had to go out and buy a bunch of stuff on your credit card. When you went to Abu Dhabi you were delayed by 12 hours after missing the first plane because of Stop Oil protesters blocking the motorway. You were plagued so Lando really did have the right to laugh.

“Listen, what time does the flight land? Send me your details. I’ll come pick you up instead of you getting a taxi. You can come stay at mine tonight then I’ll drop you off at the hotel tomorrow morning.” This was how Lando treated you. Not different than any of the guys but with more understanding that it was a different world out there for women. He was always making sure you were comfortable and you were protected (that was probably the best way to put it anyway). It was a very endearing quality in him. One that spans from him having sisters and the world full of men he was apart of. It was a quality you actually found rather attractive and made his hotness scale go up in your eyes whenever he did it. “You don’t have to Lando. I’m a big girl.” You joked. “I know you are but I want too.” His voice had gone way down low. You had only heard his voice do that weird hyper masculine thing before when he had been talking to his ex and was giving her the come on. He was probably only doing to you to get a reaction out of you. “Ok. If you insist.” You said light-heartedly back. Not wanting to ruin your day by getting into any form of back and forth with the master of sarcasm.

Thankfully, the day passed quicker than you thought possible. You had copious iced coffees from Café Nero and spoke to a lovely elderly woman who had gotten her time wrong for check in and had come to the airport five hours ahead of her scheduled flight time. 6pm seemed to slam upon you full force and you sailed back up to the check-in desk with as much gusto as you could muster. If you were expecting any complimentary extras like lounge access or a free upgrade you weren’t disappointed when a different woman slid your new boarding pass across the desk like you hadn’t been inconvenienced by the airline she was representing. “Have a nice flight” almost seemed like an insult to you at this point. You thankfully made your way through security quickly so you had some time to check out some of the perfume samples in the duty free, get yourself a new book in WH Smiths (which you probably wouldn’t open at any point at all before you arrived home) and another iced coffee before you were making the long walk to your gate to make sure you actually got on the flight you had waited all day to catch.

“Excuse me Miss.” The business man who had been unfortunate enough to sit beside you nudged you awake “We’re landing.” He added as you wiped the corner of your mouth hoping you had kept over to the left and your window instead of leaning to the right and drooling on his shoulder.

“I’m sorry. I hope I didn’t sore.” You made a light joke knowing fine well you didn’t snore but the guy wasn’t even interested enough in your remark. His face buried in the obnoxiously large copy of the Financial Times - trying to look important and as if he understood any of the shit published on those pages – to even bother looking in your direction again. You settled for the fact that because you were now awake, he couldn’t glare down your V-neck top any longer. You waited until the plane touched down to take your phone off flight mode so it could find service in time for you to text Lando you had arrived. Actually, you needed to warn him. When you boarded the plane you had seen several caps, t-shirts and hoody’s that all reflected their wearer’s support for different teams and their intention of heading to the race this weekend. In fact, you had only escaped because you weren’t with the rest of the boys – or so you were telling yourself so you didn’t have to admit it was because you probably looked rough and no one thought THEE Lando Norris would hang around a girl that looked like you currently did.

Sitting at the back of the plane had its perks. It meant when you finally got off the flying tin can, down numerous walkways and through passport control your baggage was already awaiting you. As you collected it you were glad to see the text from Lando saying he was waiting in the pick up point for you. You had visions of him all but committing suicide by standing in the arrivals hall and being trampled to death by fans (like you had seen on other occasions when you had flown into a city hosting the sporting circus). He didn’t tell you exactly what he had decided to pick you up in but as you made your way out of the airport you giggled to yourself at your suitcase being strapped to the roof of a McLaren.

“This?” You exclaimed loudly. “Hello to you too. It’s nice to see you. I’m doing great thank you very much.” There was his signature sarcasm. You took in the sky blue Fiat Jolly before you – Lando leaning against it as if he were doing his best James Bond impersonation – and rolled your eyes. “In all seriousness, I’m glad you finally got here.” He flung his arms around you and hugged you tightly. Lando hugs were the best hugs. He hugged with all his might and weirdly you felt all stresses, anxiety and frustrations melted away when he would engulf you in his arms.

“It can only happen to me.” You whispered against his shoulder and you could tell he wanted to laugh or make a quick quip about your misfortune but he chose not too. Instead, Lando grabbed your suitcase and placed it into the Jolly as if it didn’t weigh a tone. You were here in Monaco for a week then going to Barcelona for the next race the weekend after so you had to pack for all eventualities and events. This time you hadn’t gone over your 23kg luggage allowance like you did so many times before.

“My Lady…” Lando smirked as he opened the imaginary door to your chariot before getting in himself. You weren’t sure this was particularly safe considering the car had no freaking doors and you had to travel on the French motorways to get from Nice to Monaco but if anyone could get you there a Formula One driver could.

By the time you had gotten to Lando’s apartment you had a second wind in you. Wide awake (blame the coffee) you ended up settling on the sofa across from each other talking as if you had known each other a thousand years. There was nothing Lando didn’t know about you because you had a tendency to over share when you got nervous – and boy were you nervous around him to start off with – but also because you liked talking to him. He was a good listener and he seemed to like doing it too. Tonight however, you took a back seat as you let him air out his frustrations with this season’s McLaren and the goings on within the team. There were several times you wondered if he was breaking confidentiality clauses by having such loose lips but you were happy he felt so at ease with you he could share like this. Momentarily you left to use the restroom. You wondered if he always had two sets of towels out or if that was due to your one night only guest appearance. He had even laid out a spare toothbrush for you – or at least you were hoping it was for you and it wasn’t because Lando secretly had a new lady friend but you shrugged because Max wouldn’t have been able to keep that a secret if he had. You winched at the pain in your neck again as you left the bathroom. You had jerked it this morning while getting your suitcase from the back of the car that had taken you to the airport due to a useless driver not wanting to exit the drivers seat for one stinking minute. It had gradually gotten worse and worse. It was just a pulled muscle or something but every time you moved your head you felt it become increasingly more tense.

You were pawing at it as you returned back to Lando and the sofa. You weren’t one to complain about injuries or feeling ill, you just got on with things, but Lando caught you and instantly knew something was wrong at your furrowed brows.

“I just jerked my neck this morning. I’ve pulled a muscle or something. It’ll be fine. It’ll go away.” You played it down. You were imposing enough by being in his apartment you didn’t want to make a hassle of yourself even more. Lando observed you, his eyes felt like fire on your skin before he arose from his position on the grey couch. “I’ll give you a massage. I’m quite good at it.” He smiled broadly like he was proud of himself. “No don’t be silly, I’ll just take some painkillers and go to sleep. It will be fine tomorrow.” You attempted to shrug it off again. “I’m not asking.” His voice did that same thing it did that morning when you were on the phone to him. It went all commanding and deep. Your eyes widened before they narrowed when you stopped thinking about the tone of his voice and instead the words he had spoken. His words were almost kinky. “I’m not asking” was usually followed up with “I’m telling” and it made your stomach do a little strange twist.

OK! Coming clean. You had a thing for Lando from the moment he asked you to be a part of Quadrant. He was funny, fun to be around and a total breath of fresh air to you. He had such a cheeky charm that you couldn’t help but begin to fancy him when you began to work together. Now you could see all of the flirty comments and looks he shot you were just because he knew girls liked to be flattered (and because it made good viewing on the channel). You had a small glimmer of hope when he drunkenly, mistakenly kissed you on the mouth when he missed your cheek after partying hard when he made a podium. The glimmer disappeared only a few weeks later when he went away to Ibiza with Max and the boys (citing a “boys weekend”) and came back in love, with a girlfriend. You weren’t heartbroken like all crappy romance novels would claim you should be. But you were a little dismayed and annoyed with yourself for leaning into thinking he could be more. She was beautiful, quiet, funny and oh yeah, STUNNINGLY FUCKING BEAUTIFUL! If you were so inclined even you would have wanted to date her. She made such a big effort to be your friend too that honestly; you sort of adored her too. After all, you hadn’t gone so far to think of Lando being anything more than a work colleague and friend so you were able to just shrug your little “thing” for him off. You boxed up his kindness and affection toward you had been anything more than what it was and took everything since at face value (even when he fucked things up and they broke up). So now he had said, “I’m not asking” in that dropped voice tone thing, it certainly peaked your interest.

“Go undress,” He said it before he could catch himself “Uh, I meant, you can go take your top off, your….” He was fumbling and flailing his words. THIS was the Lando you knew so well. You almost laughed.

“If your sure?” You asked but he only nodded, not even looking in your direction. You left the safety of the neutral sitting room to go to the room in which he had shown you too when you arrived. Your suitcase was sitting in the corner with your things placed on top of it. You knew Lando had help decorating. The place was still relatively sparse and lacked any feminine touch. You wondered if his mum or his sisters had been across to see it because if they had they would have at least added a little colour to the white, grey and black he had going on. And as you remembered that you had come into the bedroom for a reason you suddenly got incredibly nervous. You had been almost naked in front of him before at beach clubs, yachts and whatnot but never topless. You rolled your eyes at yourself when you realised he wasn’t actually going to see you topless. You were going to be lying down when he came into the room. He might see a little side boob but some girls had more on display when you guys went clubbing. You pulled your hoody off and chucked it over on the chair in the corner. For the briefest of moments you hesitated before reaching around your back and unclasping your bra. Your heartbeat was whirling so loudly in your ears you momentarily went deaf. You therefore didn’t hear his gentle knock and opening of the door behind you. Scrambling to cover yourself with your arms when you suddenly realised Lando was standing in the room with you. “Fuck…are you trying to give me a heart attack?” You laughed off your shock and embarrassment just like he would have, with sarcasm.

“You don’t have to be so shy around me, y’know?” It was an unexpected line to come from him and yet strangely comforting. You noticed he was clutching a bottle of what looked like baby oil in his hand and yet you didn’t question it – even if you wanted too.

He turned slightly (probably sensing you were a bit nervous to be this exposed in front of him) and you lay down on your stomach on top of the soft white duvet. You tried a few grounding breaths to clear the hammering pounding in your heart but the attempts were all but useless. You tried to block out all of the thoughts that came flooding into your head when you realised how sensual this was about to become and bit on the inside of your lip to hold back your shaky breath when Lando lowered the lights.

“Do you want some spa music?” He jested light-heartedly which thankfully lightened the mood and made you laugh. It was what you needed to regain control of yourself. You felt his knees depress the mattress beside you before manoeuvring so he had a knee either side of your thighs. You almost gulped when you felt his wide muscular skin caress yours. Lando probably not even registering how much of a turn on that was. How in the hell were you about to get through him giving you a massage if you couldn’t even breathe as his skin touched yours?

Lando gently moved your hair out of the way before mentioning something about baby oil that you completely missed due to how loudly your heart was pounding inside your chest making your head go all woozy. In fact, if he had said anything at all you would have missed it because then without warning he poured some of the silky liquid on to the skin of your back. Jesus! You practically sighed out his name as he began spreading it around your flesh without a smidge of hesitation. A groan was stifled in your throat as you felt Lando apply some pressure to the base of your aching neck. His long fingers dug in where they needed too. They ground against the tight knots when he found them and began to melt away the tension.

“Relax” You heard his voice, his words coming out in something of a sigh. As much as you tried too you couldn’t help but pick up on his tone and you wished you hadn’t. You wished you had ignored his order to relax because now all you were thinking about was how non-relaxing the whole thing was because all he was accomplishing was turning you on which only made you try to relax more which was futile.

Then Lando really hit the spot. He located and zoned right in on the painful little niggle that you kept pawing away at all night. You hadn’t even realised he had done it until you let out nothing short of a pornographic sigh at the feeling of utter relief. The noise that emitted from you wasn’t a sound you ever – not even in your wildest dreams – thought you would ever be producing in front of Lando let alone FOR him.

“Does that feel good?” He asked curiously as his fingers and palm kept going, going and going. You hmm mmm’d instead of creating any actual words. Anything you could possibly say in that moment would have probably come out wrong and possibly give away the fact you had something of an unrequited crush on the man. Any words that dared to spill from your lips would give away how utterly turned on you were right now. Which in all honesty, the thought of Lando knowing about your smutty little thoughts about him made you cringe and want to shrivel up and die because you seriously doubted he would feel the same way about you.

As he progressed with the massage you tried to swallow each groan and moan that you could and yet some still eluded you. You had a sneaking suspicion that if you were to turn over unexpectedly Lando would be hovering above you with a giant smile upon his face, loving every second. You were sure he had some kind of power kink. And as you began to melt into the thoughts of Lando having any kind of kinks at all, you suddenly felt it. The first time you weren’t sure if you really had and even on the second time you felt you were mistaken and wrong. But the third, as he practically ground against your butt, you felt it. Lando was hard. You felt the entire length of him (base to tip) as his knees gave out a little and he pressed it up against your sweatpants covered ass. You wanted to gasp but you decided against it. You wanted to feel more of it. You wanted desperately to make sure. You moaned again for good measure so you could see if it would have another effect on him – cruel yes, but so was him suggesting a massage then getting hard in the middle of it without any possible intentions of giving it to you – which it did. Lando let out a swallowed gasp of a groan as if he was trying to cling on to it with his whole life. You said his name softly but he didn’t hear you – or he was ignoring you, which honestly was more like it – and so you said it again but louder.

“Lando…” You breathed. His hands stalled. He hadn’t bargained on you cottoning on. He only responded by uttering your name straight back at you before adding; “It’ll go away in a minute. I haven’t touched someone like this in a long time. I’m sorry.” The fact he was apologising for it made you want to scream. He had nothing to apologise for – not going by the state your own underwear was now in due to his actions – it was totally natural. The only thing you couldn’t understand was why now? Was it just the sheer action of touching someone else like he was suggesting or perhaps (just maybe) Lando actually liked you too? There was only one way to find out.

So without a shred of warning you flipped over on to your back. Caution was well and truly flung into the wind. His big thick thighs did nothing to stop you if he even had the time to register what you had just done. You weren’t usually the type to be bold like this. You were actually quite reserved and hadn’t ever intentionally flashed anyone before but as Lando’s eyes dipped quickly from yours down toward your boobs you felt a strange confidence grasp hold of you.

“I can help you with it, if you want?” You knew the line felt like you were in some bad porno the second you said it. It sounded weird and completely and utterly unsexy. But really, what else could you have said that would have sounded any better? Lando didn’t react at first – probably too stunned from having his friend semi naked in front of him to register what the hell you had just come out with – but his features softened before your very eyes as he cottoned on to what you were implying.

“Really?” His voice did that high-pitched thing it did when he couldn’t tell if someone was taking him on a ride or not but then there was a small faint recognition of a signature Lando smirk that told you he knew exactly what was going on. So instead of a verbal queue you gave him a physical one. Your hands went to his thighs and as shaky as they were in the seconds before touching his skin – God bless him for wearing shorts – they steadied as soon as they touched him. Slipping up to his waist he didn’t move as your hands danced along the waistband of the cotton comfies he was wearing. Lando made no sign of disapproval as your hands finally made contact with the growing tent that had formed inside his clothes. In fact, he let out a wobbly sigh as you palmed over him. You didn’t know where in the hell your newfound boldness came from but you liked it and were determined to embrace it. You weren’t sure if this was a sudden, unexpected attraction to you that Lando was feeling based on just needing to feel a girls touch or if it had been a closeted attraction that had built to an undeniable crescendo over the past few years but either way, you didn’t care. Your fingertips dipped inside his waistband and you watched as he swallowed. Your name tumbled once again from his lips and you waited on him calling for you to stop but the call never came.

“I’m supposed to be making you feel good…” He croaked as he opened his eyes and looked down at you again. “You are. This does.” Desperately you wanted him to know that you wanted this, you wanted him, more than you could ever express.

Thankfully, Lando took the hint and in an almost blink and you’ll miss it fashion he knocked out his knees so he was lying on top of you, his hand tenderly positioned on your cheek.

“You really want too?” He double-checked for your consent – sexy, you thought – and you nodded at him.

“I’ve wanted too for years, Lando.” You confessed and you could see the moment of realisation hit him before it filled him with cocky confidence. You had hidden your crush for far too long and now you were finally getting exactly what you wanted. The excitement could make your head explode. Your stomach flipped at the thought but he gave you no time to register it because without warning he kissed you. His lips caressed yours with passionate haste. Finally, after all this time you knew what he tasted like. His tongue dipped into your mouth and stroked yours in a testing the water type manner that was just so, well, Lando. You found yourself grabbing the back of his head, winding your fingers into his dark curls as you went, just so he knew how serious you were. The action didn’t go unnoticed by him and you felt the faint smile appear on his mouth as your tongue danced with his. Lando responded by grabbing your thigh and pulling it up around his waist. It was with that action you knew he knew what he was doing as it gave him the perfect angle to grind against your core - giving himself a faint whisper of release - which almost had you gasping straight into his mouth.

The next few actions seemed too quick to even comprehend. They were like some kind of dance sequence. You removed his t-shirt. He removed your sweats and panties (commenting on how wet you were as if he wasn’t expecting it). You pulled down his shorts and boxers, which prompted him to take them off for himself. He reached into the bedroom drawer for a condom and he didn’t hesitate handing it to you to put on him.

“I’ve wanted this since the day we met.” His confession was just that, a confession, and you were his priest. It was the moment you felt fulfilled. You felt like his truth was yours too. You weren’t crazy thinking his glances, his touches and how close he was to you was something more and wasn’t just friendship. And you refused the devil on your shoulder whispering in your ear that he was just telling you what you wanted to hear because he knew you would believe him and he could get his leg over. You believed Lando and even if this only happened once, it was indeed happening, so you were intent on enjoying it.

With the thought of enjoying this ringing around your head, you finished your task of sheathing him with the protective latex. As soon as you were done he slid himself up and down your sensitive, wet folds and your hands ran up from his chest to his neck so you could raise his eyes to yours. You wanted to look at the perfect green orbs you obsessed over when he finally connected your bodies and pushed into you. Which he did almost immediately. At first it took you a few moments to overcome the stretch. He was bigger than you would have thought. He was average in length but made up for it in girth and seeing as you hadn’t had sex in such a long time that you felt the deep, dull aching sting from being so tight around his cock all over your body.

“Ok?” He whispered against your semi parted lips. You kissed back as he rolled his hips, slipping himself out before back in, while you were distracted. He kept distracting you with his mouth – and his hands, one of which creeping up to your boob and playing with your sensitive peaked nipple – as he slowly began getting into rhythm. It was you that broke the kiss to moan when you finally felt the effects his pace was having upon you. Enjoyment and pre-satisfaction began grabbing you with both hands as Lando groaned into your ear. God, this was what you had deprived yourself of for two years by not acting upon your infatuation with him. You were so stupid in not telling him how you felt.

Lando felt like heaven. He felt like sheer and utter heaven inside of you. There was nothing in the world that felt better than him fucking you like you had never been fucked before. His pace had picked up from the slow, sensual style it started out like in the beginning to a quicker, steady beat that had you clawing your nails into his shoulders while you panted in his ear. You would have been happy enough for him to continue in the position and pace he was already in but a squeal left you as he suddenly, without a shred of warning, lifted your body so you were sat in his lap. Lotus was what you thought this position was called but honestly, your brain had been reduced to Lando shaped pulp that you couldn’t even make a proper assessment.

“Is this ok?” He asked as he pushed your hair back away from your face. He wanted to look at you while he was inside of you, and that clearly meant connection. Lando wanted to be connected to you. “Yes.” You breathe out on a sigh “more than.” Upon your words Lando’s hands went down to your ass. He squeezed as you smiled. He used his hands position on your butt to help guide you, move you, into a pace that worked for both of you. At first the only thing you could focus on was how deep he felt inside of you still you realised how the other parts of you were grinding against him. Your clit grazed his base with every stroke and you realised he had been thinking about your pleasure the whole time. Lando was better at this whole thing than you ever thought possible.

“Does that feel good?” His brain was working in tandem with yours and you nodded enthusiastically while the sensation began to flood your nerves. Your hands clung on to his shoulders before they wound into his hair. His lips ghosted across the flesh of your neck as he let low, earth moving rumbles erupt through his throat.

His name struggled through your lips as he hit the spot inside you over, over, over and over again. Your mind went blank and you finally understood what women all over the world raved about. The guys you had been with before had never actually found anywhere near the spot and you had spent too long saying, “right there” when you didn’t even know where “there” was. Lando found it. He knew where it was instantly and what more he staked his claim of ownership of it. You came like it the first time you ever had. It felt deeper, more intense and more authentic than you had experienced when you had done it alone, in your room, with your battery-operated friend. His body flushed against yours as he held you against himself. Your thighs twitched and a feeling of sparks tingled all over. From the ends of your fingers to the tips of your toes you felt the orgasm Lando had given you consume your being.

He slowed his pace but he kept moving you; back and forth, back and forth, searching for his own high. You thought of ways you could aid him but you didn’t need too as his own high crashed down upon him fast after yours. His forehead tensed, his body went ridged under your touch and his teeth clenched so tightly you thought they might break. Your name teetered right on the tip of his tongue when he finally let his mouth fall open as he released his milky seed into the condom. His sweaty forehead pressed to yours and in that moment it dawned on you that you never wanted this moment to end. You wanted to stay right here – in the post orgasm high – with Lando for as long as you lived. No one could make you feel better than he did. No guy could live up to him. Lando had ruined you for the whole of mankind.

His hand came upon your cheek as he kissed you deeply after he regained control of his breathing. “How is your neck?” You had totally forgotten all about what lead you into this in the first place. You were drunk, high and having such an outer body experience that you couldn’t feel a thing.

“Ask me when I’m not still thinking about that orgasm.” You joked. It made him smirk widely as if it had been a job well done – as if he had just won the race here in Monaco.

“Do you want another one?” He asked cockily and you burst out laughing at how you almost instantly leaped at the offer - Yes. A million times yes - And it was in that very moment you knew there was no possibility of either of you regretting this. You knew that regardless of what happened between you there was a bond with him that you had never felt with another guy before. Friends to lovers might have been the trope in the book you picked up in the airport. But you didn’t have to read it to experience it. You hoped this was your romance novel come true.

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ooihcnoiwlerh · 19 days

Text

so...I have a new chapter of my Feyd-Rauta/Reader fanfic up and ready.

AO3 link: And I Don't Want Your Heart - Chapter 4 - ooihcnoiwlerh - Dune (2021) [Archive of Our Own]

I also have it below the cut. It does require some content warning/TW and is NSFW/not safe for minors.

CW: arranged marriage, forced marriage, forced pregnancy, dubious consent, implied/referenced self-harm, implied/referenced child abuse, implied/referenced sexual abuse, implied/referenced incest, rough sex, blood and pain kinks, graphic depictions of violence

Chapter below the cut:

You wake up the next morning to the sound of the timepiece on your nightstand.

Idrisa had assumed correctly when she told you that just a half-tablet would help both with the pain and with getting to sleep later. For half an hour afterwards, you sat in the bath, staring at the opposite wall and hoping the warm water would add to your relief. Five minutes was all it took to start feeling better, your torn muscles relaxing, and half an hour to start feeling drowsy.

It took some effort, but you managed to get out, drain the tub, and clean your teeth before settling into bed, thinking about how this will be your nightly routine at least until you’re carrying his child. Who knows? You might be already.

You’re sipping from the water still left on your nightstand when Idrisa comes in with a tray carrying a couple of mugs. Over the past few days Idrisa’s learned that you like a bit of caffeine first thing in the morning but you’re not sure what the other mug’s for as she sets the tray down on the desk and hands you one. You sniff at the contents; it smells savory.

“It’s bone broth for you, Na-Baroness,” she explains. “I thought it might be nice. It’s not medication but it has healing properties of its own.”

Bones of what, exactly? you think as you accept the mug. “Thank you.”

“How are you feeling?” she asks, trying to keep her tone light, avoiding the direct question.

“Sore,” you admit after taking your first sip, and it tastes quite nice. “But what you gave me last night helped.” You expected your womanhood to throb, but there’s also a persistent ache in your legs, your hips, the undefined muscles in your abdomen.

“You still have more for tonight,” she says, “just in case.”

“I wish I didn’t have to,” you tell her. She looks away before trying to figure out what she could possibly say to that.

“I can’t help you with that part,” is what she comes up with. “But I can assist with almost everything else.” She turns to your closets and rifles through, picking out a few items for you to choose from. Over her shoulder she tells you, “You’ll be expected at breakfast in an hour. It shouldn’t take too long to get you freshened up.”

One of the few things you quite like about the Harkonnen Fortress is the emphasis on good hygiene. Of course, you have extra features to maintain that the rest of the Fortress doesn’t, but you brought the supplies and ointments needed for that and you know where to have more imported when you run out.

When it comes time to dress you decide on a combination of your own clothing and Harkonnen that doesn’t clash. A bit of a symbolic union of the Houses. You can’t help but think that people will have certain ideas of you today as a newly married woman who had, as clear as day to everyone, fulfilled all the marital duties expected of her last night. Your walk isn’t quite as stiff as last night, though, and if you just walk a little slower then your discomfort won’t seem obvious to anyone not looking for it.

Of course, everyone at breakfast will be looking for it; your family out of concern, your new husband and in-laws presumably out of amusement. It’s all you can really think about as you leave your chambers and descend for the Dining Hall. That and the look on your new husband’s face as he’ll undoubtedly want to assess the damage.

You manage a smile as Idrisa announces your entrance. There’s an open seat next to Feyd-Rautha that’s clearly meant for you and you take into account that your family has only just arrived and everyone’s watching you. Everyone but the Baron stands in respect as you keep your polite smile, the one that projects that nothing could bother you, and you greet the table.

To his credit, Feyd still displays the kind of chivalry your father would expect when in his presence. He stays standing when everyone else sits down so he can pull your seat out for you. The kindness of the gesture’s somewhat undermined by the look in his eye, gauging every movement, every minute detail, and it makes you feel naked again under his shark-like gaze.

You don’t look him in the eye as you sit down, nor when he pushes your chair in and takes his seat beside you, nor when you quietly thank him. You know he’s still watching you, wondering how effectively he’s broken you in already, like a pair of combat boots.

The table is laid with everything you could need as far as drinks, but as a courtesy it’s not until you sit down that food arrives, delivered on massive platters by slave girls in billowy white garb and whose biceps strain under the weight of each tray. You’re sure that the Baron’s patience is a pretense that he’s upholding to appear polite towards your family, not one that will continue after breakfast, especially when you see his enthusiasm when he digs in with the appetite of multiple men.

The food itself takes up most of his attention, but he does discuss trade routes with your father, who seems subdued and withdrawn. Father maintains his end of the conversation but doesn’t offer more and barely touches his food–the latter you can assume is because he’s put off by seeing the Baron eat, and you don’t blame him. Even with the bone broth from earlier you’re pretty sure you’d have more of an appetite if you didn’t have to sit close to someone who inhales nearly half of a spread meant for eight people.

You break away from that thought when Feyd-Rautha says, “Oh, so you don’t need to head back to Arrakis so soon,” and you follow his gaze to the entranceway.

Rabban trudges in, nose heavily bruised and in a splint. He nods in acknowledgement to your family, offering a brief salutation before taking his seat. He doesn’t respond to his brother, but quickly accepts a small glass of what you can only assume is whatever he was drinking last night. He pours it into a mug that he tops with coffee.

“I leave in the afternoon,” he says, addressing his uncle instead. “The spice is abundant.”

As they briefly discuss spice production on Arrakis, you shift in your seat. Sitting down, you’d quickly realized, is also uncomfortable, and you’re glad for your brother-in-law’s entrance causing a diversion.

It doesn’t last long, though. The Baron says, “It’s lovely that we get to reconvene again after such a fruitful wedding.”

Fruitful . You can’t help your blush and you’re sure everyone notices. You wonder if they’re all thinking the same thing and as the meal stretches on, the longer the worry of it eats at you.

It all goes understood, and for you it’s excruciatingly awkward, and everyone senses it, but no one mentions it. Rabban certainly wants to; you can feel it whenever he sneaks glances at you, and you’re certain it’s on the tip of his tongue as he looks at you. You don’t think he’s really lusting after you, though. He just happens to covet his sibling’s shiny new toy. It’s more than a little immature, given that he has nearly twenty years on Feyd-Rautha, and had come of age by the time his brother was born, but you think you can understand. You may love your siblings and they may love you too, but that’s not how the Harkonnens work. For them, siblings are a safety measure just in case the first one dies. They’re taught to fight one another for the approval of their parents–or in this case, their uncle–and are stripped of any sentimentality lest they become weak.

Oh, Great Mother. What does that mean when you do finally have a child? You’ll likely be expected to have more than one even if one is all you need to appease the Bene Gesserit.

You take a sip of water and avoid Rabban’s gaze. He probably would’ve been amused to see how slowly and gingerly you were walking earlier, maybe he would’ve bit down on a cutting remark on how you’d be a lot sorer if he’d been your groom.

Oh, Rabban definitely wants to taunt you over what you all know transpired last night, but he won’t. He can sense the power shifting within the family and if he wasn’t aware that his younger brother was their uncle’s favorite before, he certainly knows now and knows why. He probably just wants to go back to Arrakis where he has unquestioned power.

The Baron is once again the one who actually comes close to mentioning it. “With such a distinct change in environment I’m sure you’ll want to relax, especially once you’re with child,” he says. “We have an excellent system for that, some well-trained attendants as well who can provide things like massage, special baths. We can keep you comfortable.”

After last night, the concept seems nice, but you’ll go out of your mind with boredom if that’s all you have to look forward to. You want to know as much as possible about the planet you’re inhabiting and the family you’ve married into, no matter how gruesome the details. You doubt the Baron or your new husband probably had thought about that, and had just assumed you’d be content as a human incubator for the next nine months.

“That is a wonderful offer and one I’d be interested in another day, perhaps, but I was actually wondering where you kept your library? Maybe a room of archives?” you ask. “I’ve had some education about the history of the Harkonnen line and some of the infrastructure of Geidi Prime, but I’m interested in learning more.”

The Baron considers your interest in his people and his planet versus your dismissal of his original suggestion before saying, “We have a very fine library, young Y/N, and within it a room of records. Your attendant will know where it is and can accompany you whenever you like.”

“I can take her, uncle,” Feyd-Rautha says immediately. “I can give her a proper tour.”

I know you can take and give a lot with your new little pet , you can practically hear the Baron think.

“If you prefer,” he says instead. “We still need to discuss your birthday. It’s only a few weeks away.”

Right. Another gladiatorial “match.” The one in which you’re to paint your new husband’s–-admittedly chiseled–-torso beforehand.

“We have time for that,” Feyd says. “But I’d also like to show my bride the other parts of our Fortress, starting with the library.” He manages to keep his tone casual, but you can tell his rebuttal irritates the Baron. It’s almost comical, his surprise and annoyance that his nephew would want to spend any time with his wife other than the compulsory impregnation.

“Very well,” the Baron says. “You can show her the library after our guests have left.”

They’re already packed up, as it turns out. Worried about leaving you alone but eager to get back home, and perhaps ever so slightly assuaged by the fact that your new husband has some sense of decorum and that you seem intact. Not your virginity, of course, but everything else.

You excuse yourself to use the bathrooms, a sort of salon with individual cubicles and sinks but a larger sitting area with vanities and larger mirrors. You tilt your head at it, curious, because it implies that there are women of leisure on Geidi Prime, but there aren’t many that you’ve seen. A single girl stands near the entrance and gives a small bow as you enter.

You also don’t expect to see your mother when you leave your cubicle and head for the sinks to wash your hands.

She stands in the middle of the room, looking like she wants badly to speak but not sure what to say. You give her a small smile as you wash up. The girl’s quick to hand you a towel and patient to wait until you’re done drying your hands before accepting it back without a word.

They truly have people for everything , you think, looking after her as she scurries back to her post and drops the towel in a hamper before you can so much as thank her. You and your mother look back at each other.

“Father looks miserable,” you say, trying to keep your tone light.

“Your father has a hangover,” Mother says.

“He didn’t seem drunk when I left,” you say, leaning one hand against the counter.

“He wasn’t,” Mother says. “He got drunk after you and your…husband…left for the evening.”

She doesn’t need to elaborate. You open your mouth, exasperated, wishing you could explain how it feels to have everyone act as though you’ve been handed a death sentence that they put you up to. She takes your hands without a word and nods towards the salon.

“How are you feeling, really?” she asks once you’ve acquiesced and you’re seated across from each other.

“All things considered, fine,” you tell her. She doesn’t look convinced. “Mother, I…” you try to articulate it. “I can’t say that I’m happy about this arrangement, but I’m going to have to live with it for years to come. If I act as though my life is over then it is.”

She looks down and runs her thumb over the top of your hand. “I kept preparing you for something like this hoping it wouldn’t happen,” she says.

“Well then, you did exactly right,” you tell her with a small smile that feels fake but one that she returns, however briefly. She sighs and looks down. “I’m grateful that you’re worried, and trust me, I am, too. But it would help more if you believed that I can survive this.”

Mother leans forward, eyes widening in hurt. “Your father and I wouldn’t have let you near that man if we didn’t think you’d survive,” she says. “The Bene Gesserit gave us their word that you will, and it’s the reason we’re here right now.”

You furrow your brow. Mother hesitates, glancing at the girl in her gauzy white dress, who remains standing and silent, not acknowledging your conversation. Mother needn’t worry; the Baron would never bother listening to a slave speak even if she had something to offer. When the girl doesn’t indicate that she’s heard anything, Mother continues.

“When the Reverend Mother spoke to us, she assured us that as brutal as he is, Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen won’t defy Bene Gesserit orders to make sure you’re safe to have and raise his child. She also said that he has an ingrained sense of honor and loyalty to the Harkonnen line. He’ll ensure your survival and your children’s survival.” And even if survival is the best you can expect right now, you can still count on that.

....................................................

The Na-Baron accompanies you when you see your parents off; neither his uncle nor his brother does the same. He offers you his arm and you could almost laugh at the formality of it, his entire behavior towards you when you’re both fully dressed juxtaposed against last night. He can play the perfect gentleman all he likes, but you won’t forget how he pressed you onto your stomach and fucked you ruthlessly. Still, you take his arm, appearing as his poised and docile new wife. He offers his final respects to your father but otherwise stands back at a distance, watching in silence as you hug everyone one last time. You wonder if he’s ever hugged anyone a day in his life.

He still stands, waiting, when they board their ship, when it takes off. He watches you watch until their vessel is no more than a pinpoint in the sky before he approaches you, arm extended again. “Shall we?” he asks.

You’re still trying to accept that it’ll be a long time before you see your family again, your correspondence with them likely to consist only of letters, and he’s probably waiting for you to speak when you have nothing to say to him. He doesn’t understand what you’re feeling and you doubt he cares to try. You just take his arm and he leads you to the Fortress library in silence.

“I hope you slept well,” he says finally.

“I did,” you tell him. “Although Idrisa had to give me a mild sedative to do so.”

You glance over at him and think that another man would feel guilt over hurting his new bride, but of course you’re stuck–for now–with this one, who keeps his expression neutral but who you can already see in his eyes both that he’s satisfied that he caused you pain and that he doesn’t care what methods you used to relieve it. At best, he’s indifferent to your pain given that you seem fine now.

“Good, because I’ll want you in my chambers tonight after dinner. Same procedure as last night. Your girl will collect you when it’s time.”

“Alright,” you say, and he waits for just a moment before you realize what he wants and add, “ husband .”

He glances sideways at you, as if to say, Good. You’re learning. Don’t get too confident, though. What he says, though, as you reach a set of double doors, is, “Everything and everyone here is at your disposal.” Just as you are at mine .

When he opens the doors and you get your first look, you can’t help but be impressed. Your impression of Geidi Prime was that it was hardly a planet of scholars, but the library is immense.

Feyd-Rautha notes your surprise. Not that he says anything, but you doubt he’s flattered by it. A librarian’s quick to appear at your side, head bowed, and Feyd snaps his fingers in his direction before gesturing forward. “Come with us,” he says, and gives a rudimentary tour of the layout, showing you the Archives room and different wings. It’s even more expansive than you’d realized, and you’re grateful for it. You’ve got your work cut out for you, you think as you see the impossibly high walls lined with shelves up to the vaulted ceilings.

How many of these have you read? you want to ask him but refrain as the tour ends.

“Make sure the Na-Baroness has everything she needs,” he says to the librarian. He doesn’t look at him as he speaks, though. He looks directly at you, then beckons you forward with a simple curl of his hand. When you come forward he cups your cheek in that same hand, and his kiss is neither chaste nor passionate; it’s a simple statement that he’s claimed you. He’s marking his territory.

“See you at dinner,” he says once he lets you go.

............................................

You know what you want to read up on first.

There’ve always been rumors about the depravity of the House of Harkonnen. You’d heard a few of them regurgitated over the years. Some of them, like cannibalism, you’re reasonably certain aren’t true, but there are others you can’t dismiss.

Father implied once that the Baron’s voracious appetite for food was the least repulsive of his desires. You’d been too young at the time to understand what he was saying, nor were they for your ears as you’d been listening in, unnoticed, but you can’t help but think about Father’s disgusted tone, because you certainly know what he’d been implying now. Not that a Harkonnen-sanctioned record is likely to provide such details in their own library, but it’s a possibility you’ll have to consider even as the thought turns your stomach.

You start, though, with Feyd-Rautha. It takes pulling out several books and bound sheaves from a couple of different sections to get started, but a worthy investigation once you’ve found a comfortable place to spread everything out and get to reading.

You hadn’t realized that he was born not on Geidi Prime, but on another planet, Lankiveil. You had , however, heard about how his father, Abulurd Rabban, defected from the Harkonnen line and everything it represented, opting for a different sort of life on a distant planet with a Bene Gesserit woman who gave him two sons born eighteen years apart. This leads you into reading about Lankiveil, how it’s cold and water-based like your own planet. Its main source of industry is whaling, and it almost makes you laugh to picture Feyd in a raincoat on a dock. It’s just so far-fetched, the idea that he almost had a life very different from this one.

Of course, that was never going to happen. Rabban is infamous for one major act that changed all of their lives forever: as a younger man he killed their father for abandoning the bloodline and shaming the Harkonnen name. For the crime of patricide, he earned the moniker “Beast,” which he wears with pride. The Baron had already gotten his claws in his elder nephew by then, but Feyd-Rautha had still been a little boy. You’re not entirely sure how much he even remembers his father. You don’t know if they’re happy memories, or if he’d loved him. It’s still hard to imagine him ever having a childhood, but not only did he have one, his early childhood had been free from the Baron, from Geidi Prime, from the expectations of the House of Harkonnen and with two parents who you’re sure must have loved him.

It's an irrefutable fact that he’d come to Geidi Prime at the age of seven. And that is where rumor and fact intermingle. Some have claimed that Feyd’s mother sent him away for what she thought was his own protection; after all, she had never been on Geidi Prime nor known her late husband’s family, so it wouldn’t have been unreasonable for her to assume that her son would be better off with his uncle. Some believe she sent him away as punishment or for her own self-preservation, sensing danger in him at a young age and fearing what he’d grow up to become. Others have insisted that the Baron had his youngest nephew taken away to ensure the possibility of another heir, having no sons of his own.

You pause only part way through when Idrisa come in and suggests you take a break, maybe retire to your quarters and have something to eat and drink to tide you over before dinner. Apparently no one will mind if you take whatever documents you choose back to your quarters.

“We are at the Na-Baroness’s disposal. Whatever she desires,” the librarian assures you when you ask, his head inclined in a bow and his gaze downturned. It’s still a foreign feeling, the way no one can bring themselves to look directly at you, their fear of you by pure association. You clamp down on that discomfort as you thank him and return to your quarters with as many documents as you and Idrisa can carry between you.

As you reach your quarters and get settled in again, you wonder about Feyd-Rautha’s mother and the theories behind the Baron taking over as his guardian. The first theory, you decide, is unlikely. If she knew that her lover had defected and renounced his lineage, she would’ve known why. He would’ve warned her about them, even if she’d never been and even if he hadn’t, the Bene Gesserit would have. The second theory is entirely possible; you have no idea what Feyd was like as a young child. You’d assume he was made rather than born, and that personality traits aren’t inherited, but perhaps the darkness was always there. Perhaps she’d felt that he was doomed to be an extension of everything the Harkonnen represented. Still not terribly likely, given his age, but possible.

What you can likely imagine, though, is the Baron simply plucking Feyd-Rautha from his home to collect and repurpose as his own. He’s never been married nor produced any children and to simply claim one from a deceased family member, knowing no one could truly challenge him over it, would be an easy solution for that. From what you already know about him, he probably wouldn’t even see it as kidnapping, just taking what rightfully belongs to him.

You’re aware that Feyd’s an orphan, but nothing as to why beyond Abulurd’s murder. You find that there really isn’t enough to go on as far as his mother’s concerned other than her Bene Gesserit training and identity as Abulurd Rabban’s concubine, until you finally find the date and cause of death.

Feyd’s mother, according to the records, died when Feyd was fourteen. She’d been murdered in her own home. No one was caught, which means that the culprit’s been fiercely protected. You’d be willing to bet real money that the Baron had someone kill her and take away the one motivation he’d have to return to Lankiveil. It would line up with something else that you read; Feyd’s mother’s murder would have taken place shortly after Feyd-Rautha had attempted to assassinate his uncle. It had been quickly thwarted and fourteen-year-old Feyd-Rautha had been punished severely but spared his life.

You can easily imagine the Baron killing the one family member left not connected to the Harkonnens so his young nephew would be so isolated that he’d have nowhere else to turn.

Are the lashes on his back part of the punishment he faced? It would make them just over a decade old. You’re still not sure about the scars on his inner thighs. He likes pain; could they be self-inflicted? Maybe done to him at his own request by a lover? There’s an intimacy to them that you can only hope was done in an act of passion rather than a punishment administered by his uncle.

Although, and it makes you feel sick to think about, that option is also entirely possible.

If they were self-inflicted, or done for his own gratification, you wonder if he’ll one day ask you to draw a knife on him as well. The more you think about it, the more you realize that you’d be willing to; certainly rather him than you.

“Idrisa,” you start, looking up as she enters the room carrying what looks like a pair of black dresses. “How much do you know about the time Feyd-Rautha tried to assassinate his uncle when he was a boy?” She hesitates. You wait.

“My apologies, my lady,” she says, looking down, “but I wasn’t in the Fortress then. It was before my time.” Instead of elaborating further, she holds up the dresses, one in each hand to compare. “The Baron wants you to dress in the traditional Harkonnen style for dinner this evening. Which of these would you prefer?”

You glance between the two. Both long, both structured, but one with paneling and a more elaborate bodice that looks like it would take more time to actually get in and out of. “That one,” you say, pointing to it. If Idrisa knows your logic behind your choice, she doesn’t bring it up. She just waits for you to put your documents away and after you’ve taken to the bathroom to freshen up, helps you get ready.

When you arrive for dinner, you’re almost the image of a Harkonnen lady, the only traits betraying you being your hair and eyebrows. As expected, the Baron is already eating and while neither he nor Feyd-Rautha stand for you when you enter, your groom does stand to pull your chair out once more as you reach the table. It’s a simple formality, you assume, to hold up the pretense that this is a normal marriage and as something he can easily take away.

“What did you think of our library?” the Baron asks when you sit down, accepting only one answer.

“Truly impressive, Baron,” you tell him. “A testament to the House’s power and resilience.”

If you were worried what he would think about you wanting to look into his bloodline and history, those worries were unfounded. After the exchange he barely acknowledges you the entire meal. He and Feyd-Rautha, however, discuss the arena and new spice routes. You quietly take everything in and watch them interact.

The Baron switches between backhanded compliments, mean-spirited little quips, and the occasional genuine compliment for his nephew. He oscillates between seeming to respect him as a man fit to ascend the throne and still undermining him as hardly more than a child out of his depth handling any conflict. Feyd’s frustration remains quiet, just beneath the surface, but palpable. He seems to know that the Baron’s toying with him, testing him constantly, wondering which new way he flatter him only to put him down again.

It’s also immediately clear that Feyd doesn’t like that you’re seeing him like this, that once again as soon as he’s gotten what he’s wanted he’ll abruptly send you away. Whatever control his uncle takes from him he can always claim from you.

He tried to kill him once, when he was much younger and weaker than he is now. What changed? Does he still think about killing him now that he’s entering the very prime of his life?

You’ve long since finished eating by the time you realize that the men at the table have probably forgotten that you’re even there, so you clear your throat to get their attention.

“My apologies, but may I go to my chambers to prepare for the evening?” you ask, voice light.

You wait. Feyd-Rautha turns and gives you a small nod. “I won’t be too much longer,” he says, exchanging a cold look with his uncle. You don’t want to think about what they say about you when you’re not around, or what kind of innuendo the Baron will leave.

..........................................

The second time of what you’re sure will become a nightly routine is a little less nerve-wracking, but not one that you’re looking forward to.

When you’re stripped down in his bedroom again you choose the same position, even as you feel like a completely different person than you were just one day ago. There’s no fear this time, just resignation. You’re not sure if it’s going to hurt again but it also doesn’t matter, won’t change anything.

He comes out of his bathroom in the same manner as last night, naked and only partially erect. The sight may not scare you anymore, but you still, unfortunately, find his body nice to look at. You’re getting used to everything else, as well. The black teeth and gums nearly made you flinch the first time; now you’ve accepted it as the only mouth you’ll kiss from now on.

He approaches the bed. “Lay back,” he says as he starts to climb into it with you. “Spread your legs. I want to check something.”

You blush, thinking, Can’t we just get this over with? as you comply and take a breath to calm yourself, staring at the ceiling to avoid looking directly at him. You try to tamp down the embarrassment at how exposed you feel.

He inspects the damage, his fingertips pressing against your swollen folds and eyes darting back up to your face at your sharp inhale. He gives your privates a more thorough pass-through than you were willing to give yourself last night. You blink, concerned, as he takes his hand and spits on his fingers.

Why would you? --you think for only a split second before he brings his fingers back down to your torn and stretched womanhood, circling your bud in lazy circles and keeping his thumb there before dipping a finger inside of you.

You instinctively clench around the digit even as it doesn’t actually hurt. “Relax,” he says, as if that’s something you can easily do in your situation. His thumb continues working your bud as he curls his finger inside of you, pressing forward, and you see his brief smirk as you whine, taken aback by the jolt it provides. He does it again, slipping in a second, and the stretch doesn’t burn quite as much, doesn’t pinch so much as it tugs. You glance between his legs to see that he’s filling out the rest of the way from the sights and sounds of you skewered on his fingers. That in itself makes you gasp and flush at the idea that this, warming you up and seeing you aroused, gets him going. In many ways this preparation is just as much for him as it is for you.

Just as last time, you sense when he decides, Alright, you’re ready .

He has enough decency to pause when he’s pressed all the way inside of you, because he still feels massive, and like there’s not enough of you to accommodate him, as though your insides need to rearrange themselves for this intrusion.

It doesn’t hurt as much as last night, you remind yourself. You breathe through your nose as you tremble and hold onto him, gripping his shoulders and remembering how he likes the way you “get your little claws in.” The rocking of his hips is steady and deep but not too rough, not yet. You whimper and adjust your grip on him, managing to breathe, taking in the way he slides in and out of your bruised canal. It’s okay. It’s fine. You’ll get through this .

As soon as he can sense that you’re adjusted he goes harder, faster, relishing the way your nails scratch down his back. You raise your knees up to his ribcage and squeeze, trying to get some leverage in.

It’s no real use; he controls the pace, grips your hip with his free hand and seems to like when your whimpers and moans are laced with discomfort, wordlessly begging for him to please slow down, be gentler. Even if he doesn’t force you onto all fours like last night, it still feels animalistic when he speeds up further, grunting against the flushed skin of your neck, keeping you locked in place around him until you feel him coming, shuddering as he fills you up.

For a moment he raises himself up from his forearms to his hands, looking down at you with an expression he can’t place, before drawing a few errant strands of hair away from your face and pulling out. You don’t look at him as he collapses onto his back beside you. Somehow you feel even more used than before, more like a warm hole than a woman.

The two of you lay together in silence as you wait for the throbbing to subside. It takes a couple of minutes, but when you start to feel better you sit up and slide your legs to the side of the bed. You won’t wait to be dismissed. You sense him turn his head to look at you but don’t acknowledge him. You’ll head back to your chambers, soak in another lukewarm bath, and take the second half of the tablet from last night, even if you don’t need it as badly. It’ll at least help you sleep.

You get up and head for his dresser, reaching for your clothes when Feyd-Rautha’s voice stops you.

“Where are you going?” he asks. “I didn’t tell you to leave.”

You turn and look at him, your eyebrows raised. “You want me to stay?” you ask.

“I didn’t say I was finished with you yet,” he says.

You give his still-softened dick a pointed look. “You look pretty finished off to me,” you tell him, and step into your slippers.

You realize you made a mistake as soon as you say it. Feyd-Rautha’s up and at your back before you can finish pulling on your chemise. He tears it off you, throws it to the floor and wraps an arm around your ribcage as he lowers his head to your ear.

“I won’t tolerate you questioning my own body or abilities,” he says. “If I say I want another go, then I’ll have one.”

You squirm, and he turns you around, pinning you to the dresser as he grabs your hair and tightens. You wince and try to push away from him, but he only grabs your wrist in his free hand and brings it down to the dresser.

“I won’t be disrespected in my own bedroom,” he says, and you force yourself to look him in the eye. It’s the first time he’s seemed angry with you; the harsh angles of his narrow face more pronounced, his eyes pale and pupils blown out, his full lips the closest you’ve seen to a thin line.

Maybe it’s you he’s actually mad at, maybe not. Either way, you’re the one he can take his frustrations out on.

Play along, you tell yourself. Even if he’s not going to kill you for insolence, he’ll find ways to make life worse for you .

“What do you want me to do?” you ask finally. His face seems to relax slightly, and you realize when his chest moves again he’d been holding his breath. After a moment he decides how he’ll punish you for your so-called disrespect.

“Kneel on the bed, hands braced on the headboard, with your legs spread. Make sure to keep ‘em there,” he says.

You slowly step out of your slippers and turn, walking towards the bed. The seconds that pass as you get into position are silent, agonizing.

You wait, and when you don’t sense him move any closer, turn your head to look at him.

He’s still staring, taking in his fill, before he strides forward and settles in behind you, one hand braced beside yours against the headboard, the other cupping your breast.

It doesn’t stay there, though. After giving the soft flesh a squeeze for good measure he moves his hand upwards, around your throat. Your first instinct is to freeze, wanting to move.

He’s not going to kill you; he’s just trying to scare you, you tell yourself, and it’s working. You try to breathe, calm your rapid heartbeat. He can taste your fear; he revels in it. He doesn’t squeeze but he deliberately leaves his thumb against your windpipe, his long fingers curled around your neck.

I won’t kill you but I easily can, he seems to say. Unarmed and naked I could still kill you in brutal fashions you’ve never heard of. And then he gently nuzzles against your hair, and the shift disarms you, makes you feel all the more helpless as you whine.

He releases your neck and you inhale, closing your eyes. His hand trails back down, squeezing your other breast this time, down your stomach and to the apex of your thighs. He idly strokes your bud, and it gives you a jolt despite your nerves.

“Who else has ever touched you here?” he asks. It’s not a threat, but you could easily picture him killing anyone you name–it’s also not lost on you how fucked up that is. Thankfully you can provide none.

“Just myself,” you tell him. He huffs, as if to say, Yeah, I thought so , before taking one of your hands from the headboard and guiding it back in between your legs.

“Show me how you do it,” he says, his hand over yours.

You flush with embarrassment, but comply, bringing your fingertips to your bud and pressing down in a circling motion.

He gives a hmm , as you trail your fingertips to your slit, collecting the combination of his spent seed leaking out of you and your own growing wetness before bringing your digits back to your bud, has you whimpering at the slick of it. He follows, hand tight over yours, learning your movements. Despite your nerves it’s easier to get slicker, and to your horror you find yourself rocking your hips up against both his hand and yours. You give a breathy whimper, unsure how your own body can betray you like this. He finally tightens his grip on your hand and moves it to the headboard, leaving you in shock as he spits on his fingers and takes up where you’ve left off.

He mimics your movements exactly, touches you the way you’ve touched yourself over the past few years, and yet it feels all the more exhilarating to have another hand there that you can’t help but gently move against his fingers, larger and so much longer than yours and yet so precise and deliberate.

Before you realize it his cock, stiff again, slides against the cleft of your ass. You gasp, wanting to turn around but he’s so close to you, chest against your back, and he grabs your hips to jut out further behind you, pulls you down his level, your thighs on top of his.

“Don’t move,” he tells you, withdrawing his hand from yours and settling back. You can feel your body flush, your nipples stiff against the air, holding onto the headboard as you sense him grip himself in his fist and press against you.

It doesn’t hurt this time when he pushes in. He can sense it in your moans, the way you’re wet and pliant for him, ready to take him however he comes to you. You almost hate it, that he can do this to you. That he probably could have from the beginning. He rolls his hips up into you, the glide and pressure of it only on the verge of discomfort, but a welcome ache, a stretch inside of you.

You reach a hand behind you, skimming along his flank, wanting to touch him, but he’s just out of reach and you drop your forehead against the headboard, your moans and whines spurring him on. He grabs your hand and presses it back against the headboard before giving a deeper thrust into you, one that would’ve hurt yesterday but the push of it provides a delicious throb now.

The tension builds. You can feel it like flames licking up your spine and belly, and he can hear it. Your cries become increasingly desperate, your own hips rocking back down to meet his. You hardly register that you’re doing it or why; your body takes over and makes the decisions for you. He brings one hand to fondle your breasts again, one after the other, before bringing it down to your bud, and you can only imagine how smug he must be feeling that not only does he have you exactly where he wants you, that he’s making you enjoy it.

It finally feels good. You’d almost assumed that it never would, but it does. If anyone listened in, they’d hear the unambiguous pleasure in every noise you make and Great Mother, does Feyd-Rautha draw a lot of noises out of you.

But then his hand comes back to your other hip, leaving you so close to the precipice and after several more thrusts he comes, grabbing your hips and pushing upwards with a harsh grunt against your hair. He spears you onto him, pausing, rocking his hips up once more, and once he’s certain that he’s finished pulls out, grabs your jaw, and turns his face as much as he reasonably can to yours.

He sees your stunned expression, can feel that you’re still throbbing and in need of some sweet relief, and nods his head dismissively towards the door.

“ Now you can go,” he says.

You stare at him for a moment, not sure if you want to slap him across the face or pull him in for a furious kiss. He can see the warring impulses on your face and looks at you as though he’d be perfectly content with either, but still will react differently depending on which you choose.

You settle for a kiss, grabbing the back of his head and mashing your lips against his. You think that you’d like nothing more than to push him down and take him for yourself, for your own selfish pleasure like he did. You’re not entirely sure of the positioning but you’ll figure it out. You shift, managing to turn to face him properly before resuming the kiss.

He allows it, even responds to it, for a minute before grabbing the back of your head and pulling you away.

He tilts his head at you as if to say, ‘ Next time don’t question my virility or how I can make you feel, and maybe then I’ll let you come. ’

You bastard, you think, wondering how much he’s enjoying the clear indignation on your face. He likes provoking you, that much is certain, whether it’s fear or lust or anger. You don’t want to give him the satisfaction, then, and so after some awkward shuffling you dismount the bed and pointedly look away from him as you walk to the dresser. It would probably be more dignified if you didn’t have his seed leaking out of you, trailing down your inner thighs.

You don’t bother to look back or say anything as you quickly redress and leave.

Neither you nor Idrisa speak as you head to your chambers, but as soon as you’re behind closed doors again you tell her that you’ll need a moment alone in the bathroom.

You’re grateful that she leaves you to it without an explanation this time as you glance in the mirror and the remnants of your blush that start at your hairline and follow down to your chest.

You shrug off your robe and turn on the faucet before finally, shamefully, bringing your hand between your legs and feeling the slick of him there mingling with your own slick and rub down, cursing Feyd-Rautha and cursing this planet and hoping that the sound of the running water drowns out your cries as you brace yourself against the sink, head bowed, and come, shaking and twitching, to the memory of his tongue and fingers against you, of him inside of you.

When it’s over you can’t bring yourself to look in the mirror was you wash your hands and turn off the faucet

You’ll need the half-tablet tonight. Not for pain, but because otherwise there’s no way you’ll be able to sleep tonight.

#feyd rautha #feyd x reader #feyd x you #feyd rautha harkonnen #feyd-rautha #feyd rautha smut #dune 2 #dune par 2 #feyd rautha x reader

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staytinyville · 7 months

Text

OUTLAW (15)

ATEEZ poly!ot8 x Reader

Cowboy AU / Wild West

Series Masterlist

Warning: None

BETA READ (@mariana-mmtz)

It had been two weeks later by the time any of the boys came back to tell you about the others. Yeosang and Seonghwa had been staying with Jongho and Yunho in the meantime, rather than going back to the camp. The whole thing with the outlaw and you, made you feel unnerved. Your neighbors would look at you like you were dirt, sneering when you would pass by.

You realized the only people who didn’t look at you a certain way were the ones who stayed out late at night. Word hadn’t spread far for the real reason why you were sent to the police station, but you already knew that whatever the sheriff thought of you was what he told everyone else.

The girl who you had saved, you learned worked in the stables of your neighborhood. She was 17, only a year older than your sister. In fact, your sister expressed how they went to school together, telling you that the girl had always been shy but after the murders she didn’t dare to look at anyone.

It made you upset knowing she was traumatized. You wanted to get to know her, try to make her return to normal. But going through something like that, you guessed it wouldn’t be easy. You sighed to yourself as you were brought out of your head with Jongho and Yunho walking up to the front desk.

Yeosang and Seonghwa walked out of the office, coming to stand next to you as you leaned your torso over the wood.

“We might have found something.” Yunho spoke up.

“What do you mean?” You frowned.

“Captain left a message for us.” The tall man leaned closer, glancing around to make sure no one was near. “They made tracks going one way but the ashes left from the campfire were blown another.” He explained. “They left in that direction.” His eyes found his friends, watching as they understood what he was talking about.

“We have to find them.” You quickly said.

“One step at a time, Love.” Jongho sighed. “Me and Yunho will take care of it, seeing as you all need to stay for work.”

Yeosang and Seonghwa both pursed their lips, realizing that they couldn’t just take off with a good enough excuse.

“That's not fair.” You softly cried.

“Honey, it's how jobs work.” Yeosang wrapped his arm around your waist, rubbing his thumb in a soothing manner.

“I'll find something to tell my parents.” You shook your head, turning to look at the man. “I have to go see them too.”

While you knew they were safe from the law in Cromer, it didn’t stop you from worrying about other towns being on the lookout for the outlaws as well. It was common for towns to be in the know about other crimes happening nearby. Who knew how far they had to go to find a safe place.

“We'll come up with something.” Yunho sighed, watching as your eyes seemed to become downcast.

You took in a deep breath, trying to come up with the best idea you could. The only issue you had at the moment was coming up with an excuse to give to your parents. There were a lot of things you could tell them, however it was best to create a full story just in case cracks started to show.

Looking over at the boys, your eyes stopped on Seonghwa which caused him to look at you with wide eyes.

“Seonghwa never told my parents where he was from.” You spoke up. “What if we say he has sick family in Dune. It's a few hours by horse. We'll be back in two days.”

They all began to think over the story, nodding to themselves when they saw it as a good excuse. However, while that would be able to get the boys free from work, they couldn’t guarantee your days off.

“That settles our story, but why would you need to be going?” Yeosang questioned.

“I'll tell them I'll be your navigator.” You quickly prattled off. “That you don't know how to get to Dune from Cromer.” Seonghwa raised a brow as you looked at him.

His gave Yunho a side eye, trying to fight off the grin that threatened to overtake his lips. There were things you wanted to do in life and you would do anything to achieve them. At the moment, going to find the rest of the boys was all you wanted to do. It made heat bloom within his chest to see you care so much about wanting to see all of them.

You had four very capable men standing in front of you and yet, you knew that they felt lost without the rest of them. You couldn’t choose to stay with just one, you wanted to make sure they were all together. He had never met someone who thought of others needs before their own. You were selfless, and it caught all of their attention.

“You sure about this?” He asked you.

“I have it planned.” You smiled, nodding your head. “You two go to tell them about Seonghwa’s family. Once they accept your leave, tell them you need a navigator.”

As they boys all took the moment to come to an understanding, they all set off in the direction they needed to. When the deputies went back to their room to gather their things, Yeosang and Seonghwa went to find your parents.

When they came across your father in the saloon, deciding to ask him, seeing as he was the boss. With a smile on his face, Yeosang was the one who spoke to him.

“We would like to speak to you about asking for some days off.” The man softly asked.

“Oh,” Your father raised his eyebrows. “What is it?”

“I got a letter that my grandmother is sick.” Seonghwa sighed deeply, trying his best to sound like he was worried. “She's currently in Dune where my family is taking care of her. I would like to go see her, just in case the worst comes.”

“Well, I mean of course. You can take however long you need.” Your father was a kind man. He knew what it was like to have sick family.

Your grandmother left this world before your grandfather, having died of fever. Your grandfather died shortly thereafter to a broken heart. While your father wasn’t an only child, he was the only son and the eldest. His sisters left the home to care for their husbands, which left your father in charge of caring for his parents.

It wasn’t Seonghwa’s duty to take care of his grandmother, but your father remembered how upset you were to lose your grandmother. If Seonghwa was as close to his grandparents as you were, your father knew how much it hurt to know they were sick.

It pulled at your chest to know that it was all a lie. But when you returned, all you could easily say was that it was a normal sickness and that she would be fine in the following weeks.

“Three days should suffice. It's enough to rest and travel.” Seonghwa continued on.

“Both you and Yeosang then?” Your father questioned.

“Actually, we were hoping we could ask for a navigator. I don't really know the route to Dune from Cromer.” Seonghwa took a glance at you, watching as you came up behind your father.

“Well, I guess you can take (B/N)-”

“I'll do it.” You spoke up, a grin on your face as you looked at your father.

“You?” Your father says skeptically.

“You told me to talk with Yeosang. I'll have plenty of time on the trip.” You tried to explain to him.

“I don't know about that anymore, (Y/N).” While he did tell you to act buddy-buddy with Yeosang, going out for three days with two men was not exactly something your father saw as a good idea.

“It'll be fine. I promise.” You told him, giving him a bright smile to show there was nothing to worry about.

“Well alright.” Your father said slowly. “You all be careful.” He was looking at you, worry showing in his eyes.

You gave him a hug, turning to give the boys a smile. “I'll go pack. We can leave in a moment.” As you turned to leave, your father was left with the two boys.

“You boys better take care of my daughter.” He told them.

“With our life.” Yeosang nodded his head.

It took 30 minutes to pack up all you needed. With a tearful goodbye from your mother, you went on your way, riding on your own family horse this time rather than sitting behind Yeosang or Seonghwa.

You sighed to yourself as you started your journey once you hit the road out of your family's estate. It was the first time you were leaving the house alone for a couple of days. You understood why your mother was upset, but also you felt like this was the first time you were someone.

You had spent your entire life up until then doing what your parents told you to. You never went out when there was a curfew, never stayed with friends for sleepovers. Not that you ever wanted to do those kinds of things. You were living day to day, thinking that what you saw and did was all you were ever going to know.

Meeting the boys really seemed to change the way you looked at the world. Things that you used to do in the past were so dull in comparison to what you were so used to. You had always known the kind of person you were, but having met the people you call friends now, put your thoughts into actions.

You would have never dared to interfere with those thugs, probably living the rest of your life in guilt that would eat you away from not going to investigate. But they brought a sense of adrenalin into you. A push that leads you to want to be the hero in this story.

“The ashes were blown that way.” Jongho showed you all where the fire pit was moved to point in another direction.

You watched how the ashes were brushed to the side in one single direction and knew that had the wind blown away the ashes it wouldn’t look so clean. You pursed your lips, thinking about how anyone could have missed something like this. As you looked off into the direction the ashes pointed, you tried to map out the surrounding area you knew.

“There's a creek that runs off the river.” You called, pointing in that direction.

“The police of Cromer already checked it.” Yunho told you.

“Yes, but they didn't follow along it.” You moved to climb back onto your horse. “Look around for more clues.” You told the others.

“Are we just going to ignore that the way she bosses us around is actually really sexy?” Seonghwa placed his hands on his hips, watching you look around the area.

“Who are you?” Yunho teased. “Wooyoung?”

It took a good 30 minutes of searching around the surrounding area of the creek to find something out of the ordinary. You came across a tree with what looked like bear claw marks on the bark. There were four slash marks going down the tree bark, but there were four more going up in the opposite direction.

The first two marks seemed to be overlapping on another, creating an H that immediately stood out to you. “I think I found it.” You called over your shoulder. “It looks like bear marks.”

Yunho moved his horse alongside yours, raising a brow at the marks on the tree. “Yes, but Hongjoong leaves the scratches diagonal as well.” Yunho explained.

As you both looked around, you started to notice the trail of marked up trees. They all lead in one direction, making you smile brightly at the fact. “They're this way.”

You quickly tried to get your horse to move swiftly, feeling all the more hopeful that you will get to see the boys again.

Series Masterlist

@thefrog3223 , @iarayara , @0rangemilk , @explorewithd , @detectivedoodle , @bangtanxberm , @a1i33a , @loveforred , @drunken-deitence , @0325tiny , @the-ghostest-with-the-mostest , @atinyreads , @atinytinaa , @lexiigom , @smilingtokki , @mismatchfluffysocks ,

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