#leto atreides fanfics

[melodygatesauthor]

The Only One

Dark - Duke Leto Atreides X f!Reader

Not Beta Read

PLEASE READ TAGS/DISCLAIMERS/WARNINGS BEFORE READING THIS FIC. THERE ARE DARK THEMES!

Summary

The duke needs an heir, or Caladan will fall under the rule of his enemies. There's one woman is capable of saving the planet...she's the only one.

Tags/Warnings

Disclaimers: This fic does not comply with canon, throw everything you thought you knew about the Dune lore out the window. The duke is (in my opinion) in character for this situation, despite the obsessive tendencies. There is heavy non-con in this fic, it's not for everyone. If you're sensitive to that sort of thing in fanfiction, please keep on scrolling thanks. NSFW, non-con, rape, kidnapping, sex, unprotected sex, breeding kink, praise kink, lactation kink, pregnancy, blood kink, cockwarming, forced pregnancy, non-consensual bondage, porn with some plot, smut, creampie, body worship, pregnant sex, oral sex (f receiving), Dark fic, Dark Duke Leto Atreides. DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT (that means that what you see in the tags WILL be in the fic, don't act surprised when you get exactly what you were warned about.)

Word Count: 6k

Prelude

After many years of trying for an heir, Duke Leto has begun to give up hope. Without an heir, the emperor threatens to give away his birthright, strip him of his title, and hand Caladan to his enemies. He has been given only one final year to produce a son who will carry on his family name. While searching for someone who could give him what he needs, he happens upon a mysterious woman. The strange woman tells of a prophecy, one that Leto takes very seriously, because he has no other choice. "In a village, not far from here, my lord, there's a girl. She is not of noble birth, but I have seen her future, and she will give you many sons." Duke Leto, a kind and gentle man, would never hurt someone so innocent on purpose, but when faced with the choice of taking you, or losing Caladan to those who meant to oppress it, he must set aside his morality for the greater good...

The duke entered his chambers where you were suspended from the lofty ceiling, as he’d requested his men to do once they found you. A warm smile spread across his face at the sight of you, so beautiful, so scared. Leto stepped forward, nearly jumping when your head shot up and your tear-stained eyes locked on with his. He held one hand behind his back in a regal manner, holding the other out to touch your cheek as he closed in on you slowly.

“W-wh…” you cleared your throat, “where…”

“Shh,” he whispered softly, brushing his thumb over the soft skin of your beautiful face, “you’re safe now. There’s no need to panic.”

Despite his words, it was clear you were terrified, struggling to breath in a normal, even heave. No matter the fear you displayed in your eyes, the duke’s expression remained calm, and filled with adoration.

“I know you’re frightened. It is…expected,” he said softly, standing up straight and casually walking to his wardrobe. “Would you care for some wine perhaps? Or I can call for the doctor, he could provide you with a mild sedative?”

He turned to look at you, your head was hung downward once again, naked body trembling and rattling the chains that held you in place. He wasn’t a cruel man, though he suspected you thought he was. He’d never done something like this before, sending his guards out to retrieve a young woman to keep in his chambers indefinitely. A nearly inaudible sob escaped your lips.

“No need to cry my dear, you’re not in any danger,” he said, beginning to unbuckle his belt, the sound of the metal piercing through the room. “In fact, you’re going to be very well taken care of here. Do you have any idea just how lucky you are?”

You cried harder, sobs becoming even louder as you looked up at him again. He removed his shirt, revealing his warm, sunkissed skin. It was hard to tell, but he appeared handsome through the blur of your tears. You dropped your head again, your neck aching from the position you were in. Your arms were pinned behind your back, body bent forward at the hips, leaving your rear exposed and open. Your thighs ached, legs spread wide, forced open by a metal pole secured between your knees. The ache in your chest from your labored breathing was horrid enough, only made worse by the chains wrapped around you, keeping your torso held upward and parallel to the stone floor.

“You don’t even realize that you are the most important piece to maintaining our way of life of Caladan,” he continued, removing his pants completely and letting them fall to the ground. “I have been unable to find anyone compatible. Perhaps it’s that my genetics are too much for the average woman to carry to term.” He stepped closer to you, cock bobbing heavily with every stride. “But you’re not average, are you my dear?”

“P-please,” you croaked, “I…I…”

“No no, not another word. You’re frightened now, yes, but you’ll soon realize the important work that you were made for,” he walked past you, running his hand along your arm and to your hip as he did. “The important job you’ll be doing for me…”

You whimpered, struggling slightly against your restraints but to no avail. The duke used to pride himself on being an honorable man, and even in this morally reprehensible moment, he felt justified in his actions. He didn’t always like what his duty called him to do, but knowing it was for the greater good, he would do almost anything.

“You see my dear,” he cooed, “you were found for me, a beautiful, fertile woman who is prophesied to give me many children…” he leaned into your ear, “many.” His tone turned to a low rumble. “So even though this may seem sudden, you will realize with time that you’re fulfilling your purpose…your destiny.”

His right palm splayed over the globe of your cheek, moving toward where your body was spread in two. He didn’t like hearing you cry, but he knew it was inevitable. No normal girl would consent to being abducted and restrained in a man’s bedroom, not even the duke’s bedroom. He saw your puckered hole, and he pressed his index finger to it gently, inciting a gasp from you, followed by the rattling of the chains. You cried out, begging him to release you, but your wails fell on deaf ears.

“I know you care about Caladan, our people. I know you care about the Atreides legacy, and you know…” he spit between your crack, letting his warm saliva trickle from your rim down between your folds, “you know I need a strong, healthy heir.”

Leto positioned himself behind you, using his hand to fist the fat tip of his cock at your glistening entrance. The metal pole keeping your legs spread for him creaked with tension as you struggled to close your thighs, a pointless endeavor. He sighed heavily, gliding his head between each crevice of your pretty little cunt, making himself slick with your arousal.

“You must think me to be a cruel man, but you’re mistaken darling. I don’t want to hurt you, and if you’ll relax this will be much less painful for you.” His breath was ragged with an almost animalistic desire. “You must understand, however, that I care far too much about the future of my people not to provide them with an Atreides heir.”

No matter how hard you tried to escape the flesh splitting thrust of his wide girth, your attempts were futile. A pained scream echoed off the walls of his chambers, followed shortly by the warmth of your blood against his thighs as he slapped them against yours loudly. He wasn’t trying to hurt you, but he wanted to get your first time over with, and not drag it out any longer than necessary. He slowed down after a moment, once your screaming turned to soft whimpers.

“You’re doing so well…” he huffed through his nostrils harshly “…I know this isn’t easy for you,” Leto leaned forward, grabbing one of your hanging breasts in his large hand, pinching the nipple gently, “b-but your body was built for this…it was built for me…”

“No, n-no…” you trailed off, feeling your head fall back down, neck aching still from the strain. A small moan left your lips, despite your attempts to keep it in.

“O-oh sweetheart is…is it starting to feel good?” The roll of his hips remained at a steady pace. “That’s wonderful, it will help with the pain, and your time will be more enjoyable for you if you can gain some pleasure from this as well, I don’t want you to feel misery if I can help it.”

“S-stop, please, my lord…”

“Shh,” he whispered softly, continuing to palm at your breast.

He leaned forward, pressing his lips against the soft skin of your spine. He could feel your tied-back hands fidgeting against his ribcage. His free hand moved to your left hip, holding it tightly to angle himself deeper.

“I’m going to fill you with every bit of me , every-single-drop,” he punctuated each word with a harder thrust. “I need to make sure you get it all, need to make sure it takes…mmph!”

Surely your noisy whimpers could be heard in the halls, yet no one came to help you. They all knew what was happening in there. You were to be the mother of the next Atreides heir. You would be made to bear child after child for the legacy obsessed duke. A breeding vessel for a desperate nobleman, torn between his kind nature and his need for the security and wellbeing of his people.

“The emperor will take everything I have if I can't secure my bloodline. He’ll give it t-to the…” he whimpered and gulped deeply, “Harkonnens, and I can’t let that happen to my people.”

You could hear nothing over your whimpers save for the wet slapping of his skin against yours as his pace quickened. You didn’t know what he was going on about - destiny, legacy, an Atreides heir? - He snapped forward again, a gravelly rumble falling from his chest. He moved to an upright position, letting your breast hang loosely once more. You wailed loudly, the feeling of his thick fingers leaving their impressions in the flesh of your hip.

“M-my lord, my lord…it hurts so…s-so-much-s-sir!”

“I know, but you’re taking me so well anyway aren’t you?” He looked down where your puffy little hole swallowed his crimson painted cock. “Look at that.”

His index finger touched where you were stretched around him, that little bit of skin that held onto his cock like it never meant to let go. You whimpered, chains rattling around you as your body involuntarily moved, only serving to sink you down further on his length once more. He could hear you hyperventilating, a panic-stricken whine punching out of your chest that he felt a tad guilty for inciting.

Until he remembered what your purpose was…the reason he’d had you brought to his castle in the first place.

He reached an arm around your leg, sinking the pad of his finger into the wet, bloody mess between the slippery lips of your cunt. In the sea of your arousal, he found the swollen bud that made your walls flutter around him. You gasped, and seemingly on their own, his hips slid forward, chasing that delicious feeling of your body finally accepting him, pulling him deeper inside.

“You like that don’t you?” He bit his lip, a breathy chuckle escaping through his teeth with the knowledge that he’d found a way to settle your terror, if only for a moment. “I promise, no matter how terrible this may be, that I won’t allow you to stay like this…and-s-suffer-oh-my…”

He felt your body squeezing tighter, walls contracting around his cock. He thrust forward again, shuddering at the way you were taking him, pulling him deeper, like your body was begging for his cum, like you needed him to feed your hole until you were stuffed and overflowing.

“Mmm-m-my-lord…p-please–”

Your tone was different now, more sultry and full of desire. It was good to hear you like that, moaning instead of crying, grunting with pleasure instead of pain. This would be so much better for you once you gave in, he knew that much. He could give you everything: make your body shake with orgasm after orgasm, clothes made from the finest silks, and comforts that were reserved for only the lords and ladies of Caladan.

“Your pleas don’t go unnoticed sweetheart, don’t think me cruel, I wouldn’t do this if the circumstances were different,” he huffed, breathing becoming more ragged with every glide of his hips. “I need you…Caladan needs you–needs-you-full-ah!”

The smooth roll of his hips slowed as his seed spilled into you. You felt it, warm and slick as it coated your insides white. You felt a sensation you’d never felt, rolling over your entire body and pooling in your core, causing your legs to shake and your mind to go blank. It was euphoric; a reprieve from the pain you’d endured for what felt like hours, but couldn’t have been more than several minutes.

Leto felt your pussy walls squeezing, crushing down over his girth in waves while you moaned. What a sweet sound, one that made him feel mental relief that he’d given you something in return for your suffering. His finger slowed around your hardened clit, letting you come down slowly from your high.

As your pleasured whines subsided, you thought he would remove himself from you, letting your hole relax after such an ordeal, but he didn’t. The duke stayed there, hips pressed flush against your rear, making no motion to release you from his hold. You moved slightly, but he gripped tightly on your hips, keeping you firmly in place.

“No, no darling, no.” His voice was calm but raspy, still settling after his climax. “I’m going to stay like this for a moment longer, just to make sure it takes. We wouldn’t want to waste it.”

He looked down, seeing the way your body had bled on his, coating his pubic hair in a deep red shade. He felt for you, truly he did, but once you realized what an honor it was to be in your position, he knew you’d find it was worth the sacrifice. Your breathing was slowing, going back to normal, and after several moments he pulled back, letting his limp cock fall from where it had torn you open. 

You groaned, feeling yourself become empty all at once. Your head hung down, neck finally too tired to hold it up any longer. You heard the duke tsk behind you, his palms pressing against your cheeks and spreading them further. The sound of dripping cum on the floor echoed through the room.

“Let’s keep it all inside, sweet one, I need you to give me a son,” he pushed his spend back inside you with his finger, what little was still there and had not fallen to the floor.

You winced and hissed, the metal holding you in place rattling once more. His thick middle-finger slid in deep, Leto shuddered as your hole clenched in response. He could hear you crying, a soft, defeated sound he wished one day would stop. But he couldn’t expect that from you, not now as he broke you in for the first time. He expected you would be like this for a while until you were used to him, used to his size, used to the way he kept you as full as possible, as often as possible.

“Your body handled me very, very well darling,” he said, idly fingering you as he spoke, continuing to push his spend back inside you. “Looks like I’ve made quite the mess of you, but don’t worry, I’ll have you cleaned up in a moment.”

He kept true to his word, once he was thoroughly satisied he’d kept his cum in you long enough, the duke turned onto his back, positioned himself between your thighs, and propped himself up on his elbows so his lips could reach your cunt with ease. A gasp shot from your lungs, the feeling of his warm mouth enveloping your sore folds bringing comfort to the ache. You moaned, a sound that represented more than just sexual pleasure, but a sound that told him you were at least accepting your fate…for the moment.

He was right, there was no more fighting, and it was clear your words weren’t going to change his goal oriented mind. His desire to have an heir was stronger than his desire to act honorably. His tongue went flat, you felt it soothing the tear of your hymen, then dragging upward and flicking once it reached the peak of your folds. You exhaled a sigh, cunt throbbing in response to the way he lapped at you masterfully.

“You know not many,” he kissed your pussy lips, “can say,” another peck, “they’ve been lucky enough to carry such an important role for Caladan. Even I’m not as important as you are right now.”

His hand reached up and pressed against your stomach while his mouth continued to melt into your cunt, soothing you even more as he cleaned you. He never felt such pride as he did in that moment, knowing that this was a good effort, even if it didn’t take. The sheer amount that he ate from you, in combination with his already discarded seed on the floor underneath him, gave the duke a sense of relief to know that he was producing sufficiently on his end. It wouldn’t take long for you to give him a healthy child, if you were indeed the girl the old woman had told him about.

You whimpered still when his tongue would touch your wound, though it was always followed with the relief of him dragging it over your clit. He slurped quietly as he continued, not making an indication that he would be stopping any time soon, despite the likelihood of you being clean already. The hand on your stomach moved, reaching up and cupping your breast, holding it and squeezing softly.

“Oh, my lord, y-yes…”

Despite yourself, you couldn’t deny the heat pooling at the base of your abdomen once again. Was it even worth trying to deny the way it felt? He was the Duke of Caladan after all. If he wanted a hundred concubines tied up to his ceiling he could take them, and no one would stop him. You should be grateful it was he who took you, and not someone who might’ve been much more cruel in their claiming of your body.

He hummed into your folds, breathing heavily through his nose as he did. His hand slid over to your waist, gripping around you and holding tight. The vibration from his moans, and the brush of his peppery beard against your thighs was causing your body to near release once more. That would only be the second time in your life that you’d felt it, and you wanted it more than you could bear.

“Mm, let yourself go my dear, I only want you to feel good from now on, now that I broke you in a little.”

His mouth never left your cunt as he spoke, his words only serving to draw your next climax from your body faster. You felt it fall over you, warm and heavy, making your body melt once more, going limp save for the involuntary crashing of your walls around the emptiness the duke had left behind. He didn’t stop until he was sure you were fully satisfied, head hanging down again and breathing returned to normal. 

With a grunt he rose from beneath you. You heard him padding on his bare feet to the wardrobe on the far side of the room. If you turned your head just a little you could see him, much clearer now than before. He looked at you as he put a loose cotton shirt over his shoulders, then leaning down to pull his trousers over his legs.

“You’re simply the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen,” he said in a gentle baritone, moving back to kneel in front of you. “I do not kneel for many, but I’ll kneel for the mother of my children.”

You strained your neck to look at him once again. He cupped your cheeks to help you, seeing your struggle and feeling sorry for the part he played in your suffering. He kissed your forehead, feeling the salt from your sweaty brow upon his lips.

“I’ll return every day, at least until I’m sure you’re pregnant,” his lips curled into a compassionate smirk, “then I’ll let you rest while your belly grows.”

He stood, striding to the washroom and leaving you hanging there, like a prized animal on display. Before long, the same men who’d captured you returned, undoing most of your bonds, save for the ones holding your hands behind your back. They weren’t rough, just like before when they’d abducted you. You felt your entire body sigh, your bones and muscles feeling relieved to fall back into place. 

You weren’t sure when exactly you’d conceived. It must’ve happened at some point between that first time when he tore you apart, and the following month when your period didn’t arrive when it should’ve. By then you’d become, not unlike, a piece of furniture in Duke Leto’s chambers, restraints much less restrictive and painful than your first meeting. Only a week after he’d broken you, you’d become more willing for him, crying less when he came to take you. 

“I don’t want you to feel like a prisoner here, despite your situation, and since you’ve become so compliant, I think I can afford to make you more comfortable,” he’d explained.

And so he had you moved to the bed. Though you weren’t completely free. That was a risk the duke could not afford. So he had metal cuffs around your wrists, and chains that connected them to the stone wall behind the bed. You could move easier, but you could never leave.

When another week went by, two weeks after your torment began, he was swelling with pride, seeing you spreading your legs upon his entry into his chambers without prompt. You said you appreciated the silken evening dress he’d had the servants craft for you, the one that fell open on either side of your hips when you presented your cunt to him. He wasn’t supposed to love you - it wasn’t necessary for him to love you - but he felt himself overwhelmed with feelings he couldn’t contain every time he saw you.

Three weeks after that first meeting, you kissed him. It was clear he’d been holding back, allowing you to maintain some level of autonomy, despite having taken your body for himself so many times. He couldn’t, and wouldn’t, force you to be intimate with him if that wasn’t what you wished.

So it was a shock when he was several moments into fucking you, cock sliding wetly along your walls in a desperation to fill you with him again, and you grabbed his face on either side. His hooded eyes shot up, meeting with yours but then quickly flicking down to see your precious lips closing in. You closed your eyes, and so did he, and everything seemed to slow down for a moment, including the pace that he thrust into you.

The slow roll of his hips was heavenly, and was soon accompanied by the feeling of his hand on the back of your head, pulling you deeper into the kiss, gliding his tongue inside your mouth so he could taste you. The duke filled you faster than ever that night, being so engulfed in the moment that he couldn’t hold on any longer.

And now, it was just over a month beyond your arrival to Castle Caladan, you were sitting with the physician while he examined you, confirming that yours and the duke’s efforts had been fruitful.

The way Leto looked at you in that moment, was a look you’d never seen before. His dark brows turned up and stitched together, soft lips parted just before a smirk curled over them. He held your chin between his thumb and forefinger, the glossy sheen of tears apparent in his eyes.

“After years of trying to produce an heir, I finally found a perfect vessel, such a precious thing,” he cooed, touching your stomach before leaning in and finding your lips with his own. “My most wonderful treasure.”

Leto heard nothing else as the doctor murmured about you, voice seeming background to where his focus lied. Part of him was still shocked that the old woman was right. She told him in his search of her prophecy that you, a normal village girl, would produce many sons for him, and she was right. 

That night, the duke did everything he could for you. His kisses were softer, less desperate and more deliberate. His hands didn’t grab your flesh as a means to hold you, but rather to feel you. And when he sunk his cock into you, he did so in a way that emphasized your pleasure over his own, angling for those spots that made your body quiver.

You may not have been of noble birth, but to the duke, that night you were his empress. There wasn’t an inch of your skin that hadn’t been brushed by the coarse hair of his bearded chin. He worshiped you, giving you an evening dedicated to only your satisfaction.

For many weeks he would come into his chambers and ramble on about how proud he was, and how well you were doing. He would whisper the most depraved, while beautiful, things in your ear about how the people of Caladan owed you their lives, and how he couldn’t wait until it was time to breed you all over again. All of that praise was nothing though, not compared to the way he looked at you after coming back from his trip to Arrakis.

When he walked into his chambers, and you were there on his bed, only a couple short months away from birth, he stopped dead in his tracks. He felt like the words were trapped in his throat, and his feet were stuck to the floor. All he could do was stare, and take in the beauty before him. You were simply radiant, pregnant belly full with his son, his heir; swelling breasts nearly spilling out of your dress.

Once he found the ability to move again he slowly walked over to you, taking off his coat as he sat beside you.

“Look at you…” his voice trailed off.

“Hello my lord,” you greeted softly.

His hand reached for yours, and he was quickly reminded that you’d been a captive there, metal cuffs still wrapped around your wrists, rattling as he held you. He felt a pang in his chest, wanting desperately to release you. Every time the thought crossed his mind though, he worried you would run. You didn’t seem like you would try to leave, having become much more docile since your arrival months ago. There was also the glaring fact that you were pregnant, and it wouldn’t be easy for you to get away even if you managed to pass every one of the guards who might see you before reaching the doors of Leto’s home.

There was always that small chance though, no matter how slim, that you would leave. It was a risk he couldn’t afford to take.

He looked back at your body, eyes wide and trained on your stomach. The duke leaned in, kissing just above your navel, a satisfied hum escaping his lungs as he did. It was hard not to like him, and that was what you hated about him the most. The man was dedicated to his people, to his title, and his legacy more than anything. The longer you were around him, and the more time you’d spent under his care, the more you’d begun to understand your purpose within his walls.

The idea of the Harkonnens, or any other house for that matter, claiming the right to Caladan, should House Atreides produce no heir, was a frightful one. He broke you from your thoughts, eyes trailing up your chest and to your eyes. Your breath caught in your throat, he looked so handsome, lips slightly parted with a few stray hairs falling into his dark eyes. Despite holding you captive for the sole purpose of breeding an heir from you, you’d begun to fall for Leto Atreides, against all odds.

“My sweet girl, my darling, you’re doing so well, growing my child in your womb. I couldn’t have asked for a better woman to give me a son, to give House Atreides its heir,” he whispered, cupping your cheek, bringing his forehead to yours. “I’ve been disappointed so many times.”

“Thank you my lo-”

“No sweetheart, no, shh…” he pressed a finger to your lips gently before replacing it with a tender kiss, “you should be worshiped by Caladan, it's people…I want to worship you.”

His hand grabbed at your waist, pulling you against him into a deeper kiss. You felt his growing arousal against your thigh, followed by an involuntary rut of his hips. You whined, trying not to be bothered by the incessant ache in your chest, your engorged tits becoming too heavy and painful to bear. It was hard to focus on the duke’s soothing touch when you felt such discomfort.

He stopped kissing you, looking at you with concern, “are you alright sweet one?” His eyes trailed to your tits, “are they sore? Oh you poor thing.”

You nodded and whimpered, wincing as he pulled one of your straps down and pulled a heavy breast from its confines. Your puffy nipple had a bead of white sitting on it, threatening to trickle down the mound. His pink tongue darted out, lapping up the milk that nearly fell from your breast, and humming in approval of its taste.

“Let me help you my dear,” he said softly, leaning in and latching his mouth over your chest.

You gasped at first, the coarse brush of his beard stinging against the sensitive skin, but it very quickly gave way to a much better, more soothing sensation. You sighed in relief, feeling him suckling at your flesh, drawing out the milk that had been causing your breasts to swell beyond belief. He moaned against your skin, rolling his hips idly as he did. This was very unusual for him, to be so needy and desperate for you, clinging onto your body the way he was.

In the past, Leto would’ve just taken you if he wanted to, but with your body so soft and full with his child, he would resist. Of course he knew you could take it, you weren’t made of glass, but he wanted to give you nothing but comfort, emptying you instead of filling you with more than he already had in the past. He felt your hand reach up and grab the back of his head, delicate fingers massaging between his peppery locks.

“Mm, my darling, so sweet,” he muttered against your tit, a little milk dribbling down his lips.

You felt his hips moving more, now more deliberate before, as though he were accepting of his primal urges to find release, rather than suppress it, but still unwilling to ask you for help.

“It’s alright my lord, you haven’t…mmph…you haven’t been satisfied in some time. Do what you must.”

Even though he was trying to remain stoic and refined, your permission was all he needed to throw all that aside. With his free hand he tugged at his belt, keeping his lips pursed around your nipple as he did. You heard the unmistakable clanking and rattling metal as he found success, pulling the leather from the loops and tossing it to the ground. His dexterous fingers then made quick work of his pants, pulling them to his thighs.

Leto Atreides was a nobleman, not one to give in to such animalistic delights so easily, but something about drinking from your chest, and how perfect you were serving him and his house with your pregnancy made him feral for you. His hands were shaking as he tried to bring his cock to your hole. He’d done it so many times before, why was he struggling now?

“Sir…” you pushed him off your breast, biting your lip at the sight of him as he looked up at you.

His eyes were hooded, milk-drunk and heavy. The lips that had been suckling for a while were now pink, puffy, and covered in a white, glossy sheen. You lifted your leg, sliding yourself into a position that you were both parallel to one another. You wrapped your leg around his hip, angling his fat tip to your slippery entrance.

“You’re too precious, too g-good…oh…” His hips stuttered forward, opening you wide around his cock once again.

You hadn’t been with him in so long, your body had nearly forgotten how to take him. You winced, needing to readjust once again, but he was patient, holding himself flush against your hips while your walls moved aside for his girth. He let out, what sounded like, a low growl as he mouthed at your neglected tit. His hips remained in place, making no attempt to retreat, nor to glide in further. His cock rested there contentedly, throbbing every now and then.

He gulped, humming into your breast as he drank more, the ache in your chest slowly subsiding with every moment that passed. Eventually he moved his hips lazily, pulling back after a time before rolling back forward.

What the duke was feeling with you in that moment was more than a simple sex act. What he felt now was comfort, his cock buried in your soaking, slippery heat, and his lips pursed around your nipple. Leto swirled his tongue in a slow roll over your peaked mound, taking a moment to inhale several shaky breaths before going in for more.

The way he drew more and more milk out of you was causing your body to relax further, your walls becoming more open to his slow movements and deep strokes. A low moan escaped you, forcing his eyes to shoot up, still so dark in their feral hunger. You tugged his hair, forcing him to pull off your breast with a loud pop. Without hesitation, you kissed him, filling your mouth with a combination of your sweet fluids and the duke’s own signature taste 

“You’re like no other. Not a day goes by that I don’t want to hold you close sweetheart…”

He brushed his nose against yours, eyes moving slowly from your lips, to your eyes, and back again. A swell of emotion poured through him, his desires going beyond just wanting to give you his seed, but it was something more. Your last name…it was wrong. He never wanted to take a wife, in fact, he’d vowed never to do such a thing, but you’d changed the very fiber of his being from the moment he’d found you.

“After my son is born, I’ll give you the best gift I can, the only gift I can give a woman of such importance…oh my…g…”

The duke lost himself, holding you tightly against him, though careful not to squeeze against your stomach too harshly. His choked moans vibrated against your chest while he filled you, pumping your body with his cum once again. You felt your own climax wash over your body, inspired by his own, drawing everything it could from him as it did, both of you a trembling, moaning mess.

He sighed with contentment after his mind cleared. He looked at you once more. 

“I’m going to keep you,” he kissed your lips breathlessly, “I’m going to keep you here with me. I’m going to give you my name, and until the day I die you’ll be mine, my precious thing.” He pecked you again, and then pressed his lips to your stomach.

“I can’t wait to have your name, sir, and to be able to walk around the castle freely,” you said softly.

Leto’s blood ran cold. 

Walk around freely…

Perhaps you’d misunderstood him, in fact, he was certain of it. He could see how his words may have been misconstrued. Evidently he would need to be more clear with you. The duke’s gaze darkened when he looked back into your eyes.

“My sweet girl.” He cupped your cheek and kissed your forehead. “Until the day you are barren, I cannot risk any harm to you, nor your body.” His words were chilling, but his gaze was warm. 

“You’ll never leave this room, so long as I can help it.”

Duke Leto Atreides Masterlist

Main Masterlist

#duke leto atreides #duke leto x reader #duke leto #duke leto x you #duke leto atreides x reader #leto atreides x reader #duke leto atreides x you #duke leto atreides smut #leto atreides smut #leto atreides fanfiction #duke leto atreides fanfiction #dune 2021 #dune movie #dune #dune fanfiction #dune fanfic #dune fan fiction #duke leto fan fiction #duke leto fan fic #oscar isaac #duke leto atreides fan fiction #leto atreides #leto atreides fan fiction #leto atreides headcanon #leto atreides x female reader #duke leto atredies x reader #duke leto atreides x female reader #fanfiction #fan fiction

[nyrasproblm]

I'm not the only one

Leto Atreides x reader, Paul Atreides x reader (platonic), Jessica Atreides x reader (platonic)

Warnings: angst, arranged marriage, rejection, loneliness, screaming.

Synopsis: You marry Leto Atreides, and feel the rejection firsthand.

Chapter 01

Chapter 02

Chapter 03

Chapter 04

Chapter 05

#leto atreides #duke leto atreides #duke leto #x reader #fem reader #paul atreides #jessica atreides #dune fanfiction #fanfic #leto atreides x reader angst #duke leto x reader

[marc-spectorr]

𝒔𝒊𝒏𝒌 𝒐𝒓 𝒔𝒘𝒊𝒎

pairing: duke leto atreides x fem!reader

summary: It's the night before your wedding to Duke Leto Atreides and he finds you struck by panic about your future in Caladan.

warnings: 3.1k wc. arranged marriage, panic attack, anxiety, mentions of conceiving. my limited dune-lore knowledge. soft!leto.

a/n: first leto fic ahhh!! i may or may not write more parts to this in the future. i had so many ideas but if i wrote them all in one fic, it would be a long one (not to mention it would take 1001 years to finish and post). anyway, feedback is very much appreciated! hope you enjoy :)

—

Caladan.

There is a beauty to it that you cannot deny. It's captivating from the very first glance. An indescribable sight, unparalleled to anywhere else in the universe.

Of all the worlds you could be in at this moment, a part of you is glad it's Caladan. In spite of the circumstances that brought you here, you try to be grateful for it. Surely, there are worse places to live on than this.

Here, the ocean is vast, stretching far beyond the starlit horizon. A fresh breeze carries the salty scent of the water towards you. It tickles your skin as if it were a feather, the light coolness sending goosebumps along your arms. You tug your shawl more closely around your shoulders.

It is far from the hot desert landscape you know and love. Despite its recent hardships, that planet was once home to you. It still is. You wonder how long it will be before you consider Caladan as such. It's been one week since your arrival, and you're in a period of adjustment, which in truth, has not been too easy.

The beach is empty, unsurprising as the moon has moved far past its highest point in the sky. You can't sleep. You haven't for so long. Similar to all the nights prior, you had tossed and turned endlessly under silken sheets before deciding to go for a walk. You found no comfort in your bed despite the mattress beneath you being the softest there ever was.

It could be the chambers themselves, surrounded by four dark walls that are still very much foreign to you. You must get used to it, you remind yourself. In fact, it's more than just a room that you must get used to.

Tomorrow, your life will change more than it already has when you moved to Caladan.

Tomorrow is the wedding—your wedding. Many esteemed members of the Great Houses will be in attendance, alongside your closest family and friends, who are now worlds away from you. They will all be present to witness you exchange vows with Duke Leto Atreides, a man you barely know.

You exhale a deep, long sigh and draw your knees under your chin. Gentle waves lap onto the shore, the white foam almost reaching your toes before ebbing away. You watch in comfortable silence, the hypnotic rhythm of the waves creating a sense of calm.

Unwittingly, your mind combs through recent events. You spent plenty of these last few days surrounded by those more interested in your upcoming nuptials than you are. You've grown weary of feigning smiles every second in their company, of pretending to be okay when you are far from it.

You feel alone. You are alone.

It’s a sacrifice—leaving behind the life you had to help your struggling home world. Things are changing faster than the time you have to process them. But you can't afford to wait—the sooner you marry Leto, the sooner your father and your people's burdens will go away.

You are doing the right thing. The noble thing. It's what you were raised to do. The last thing you wish is to be seen as a disappointment.

Still, it doesn't mean you have your worries and doubts. You lack experience, having never courted someone before. You question whether or not you would be fit to be a wife to the stranger who is the Duke of Caladan. You're well aware of the responsibilities you would have to uphold, the expectation that one day you will need to bear him an heir…

You shut your eyes, trying to push past the feeling of your heart starting to pick up and thud heavily against your ribs. But the pit of anxiety gnawing at your stomach grows and grows, and it's a losing battle. Not even the ocean waves that mesmerized you moments ago could distract you from the mounting panic inside.

Your thoughts batter you from within like a storm raging out of control. The pressure and expectations others have on you— that you have on yourself— can't be stopped. 

They're too loud; they refuse to be ignored this time around.

Your body trembles, your breaths are short and shallow, and it feels like you are drowning; you're helplessly caught in a dangerous current that pulls you under the water. The weight in your chest drags you down and deeper, sinking and sinking until you hit the very bottom of the depths of your own mind, deprived of any air, any light.

It's only until a voice calls out your name over and over again that you resurface. Warm, gentle hands urge you to sit right back up, and you don't have it in you to fight against them. You don't remember curling up on your side, wound in a tight little ball, nearly burrowing yourself into the sand bed as if wanting to be swallowed whole.

"Breathe, darling... Listen to my voice and just breathe, alright? One... two... three..."

You can't see him, not through the hot, stinging tears obscuring your eyes. But you can hear him. His voice's hazy, soft lull is strangely familiar, yet you cannot place whose it is.

He coaxes you repeatedly, and you focus on his words as if they are your one and only lifeline—as if they are the calming waves reaching the shoreline. 

You do as he says. You breathe.

"One... two... three... That's it, my lady. Deep breaths for me, and again— one... two... three... Good girl, and again. Breathe..."

You're unsure how long has passed by the time your heart slows, and your breathing evens out. Your blurred vision clears once your tears have settled, and your eyes widen when you recognize the face before you.

Duke Leto Atreides kneels beside you, dressed in a manner you have never seen him in. He has on a loose white shirt and dark lounge bottoms, his graying head of curls mussed by the wind blowing past.

You're uncertain why he's at the beach alone at this late hour despite being seemingly ready for bed. Perhaps concerned guards informed him of your wandering about the castle in the dead of night. Did he come all this way in search of you?

Leto’s dark eyes search your face for the reason of your distress. Embarrassment sweeps over your cheeks— you cannot imagine how much of a pitiful mess you look. God, what if you've ruined it? What if seeing you this way, so weak, and frightened, and pathetic, has Leto wishing to rescind his agreement to marry you? What if, what if—

"Hey, shh… Relax. There is no need to fret," Leto soothes. He must have seen the worry in your eyes, but instead of ridicule as you anticipated, he looks at you with concern.

You cast your gaze down, catching sight of your hand in his. He hasn't let go of it since finding you, and when he notices your muscles tense up from the anxiety that seizes your body once more, he squeezes.

Leto squeezes your hand firmly but nowhere near the point of pain. His words are a quiet murmur in your ears. "Don't go back there, darling. Stay here, on this beach. Squeeze my hand back so I know you're here with me. Can you do that for me, please?"

With his other hand, Leto places a finger under your chin to tip it upwards, meeting your eyes. Again, he holds your hand tightly and brushes his thumb over your knuckles. You concentrate on him, matching your breaths to his. The tension starts to slip away bit by bit, and when it does, you finally squeeze his hand back.

"There you go. Just breathe, you're alright," Leto murmurs with a small smile. It dawns on you how close he is when the sound of the ocean becomes second to his voice. "Better?"

You swallow, then nod following a brief pause, not trusting yourself to speak.

Moving slowly so as not to startle you, Leto picks up your shawl from the ground, dusting it clean of grains of sand before draping it over your shoulders.

You expect him to leave, seeing you have regained some semblance of composure. You much prefer that he would. You can't handle explaining to Leto what was wrong. Is wrong.

The air turns silent as you face the water, wiping the dried-up tears from your cheeks with your fingers. You don't see Leto in your peripheral vision, but he's there, watching you. You can feel it.

"Here," you hear Leto say. Glancing to the side, you find him still sitting next to you. He offers his handkerchief, gently motioning it toward you when he senses your hesitation.

With the slightest smile, you accept the piece of cloth, whispering a "thanks" and looking away. 

It occurs to you then that this is your first true moment with Leto. Before today, you had only seen glimpses of him. The most time you have spent with him was during your first encounter, and even then, it wasn't for long.

You chalked it up to Leto having no genuine interest in you. Why would he? He has duties that are much more pressing than entertaining you.

It's not much of a surprise. It would be wrong of you to expect for more. Ultimately, this marriage is not one for love but born out of necessity. A political alliance. A guarantee that your people will be well taken care of. That's the agreement.

Not to mention, you've heard them— those hushed talks amongst the servants and guards about how Caladan does not stand to gain anything from the union.

They are not wrong; many have supposedly expressed concern, including members of the Duke's inner circle. You wonder if he will come to regret his decision one day.

"You've had quite a fright there."

Leto's voice cuts through the silence between you. He shuffles from behind, sitting where he can better see you. You stop yourself from glancing down; it would be rude, and you don't want to tarnish both your image and your family's name even more than you already have.

"I-I am deeply sorry, my lord. You shouldn't have to see that," you manage to get out, catching the way Leto's brows knit together in response.

"There's no shame in such. Why apologize?" he asks you in a soft tone. "And please, there's no need for formalities. Call me Leto. After all, we are betrothed to one another."

Your throat suddenly dries at the reminder that the man before you is your soon-to-be husband. You wring your hands in your lap and give him a nod, skirting from answering his earlier question.

Leto is quick to pick up your nervousness. You can almost see his brain working to piece it all together and grasp what was happening when he stumbled upon you.

You dread what words Leto might say, fearing they will be judgments made against you. You hide from his piercing stare, picking at your nails until a pair of rough yet gentle hands gathers yours, halting you.

Leto squeezes your hands softly, very much like he did before, and it soothes the part of you that has always ached but you could never get rid of.

"You do not have to carry your burdens alone, my lady," Leto murmurs, leaning to catch your eyes once more, and he does. "Whatever it is, unload it on me. Now, tell me what's wrong."

It's almost cruel that your instinct is to doubt him. But if the sincerity bleeding into his voice wasn't enough for you to give him a chance, then it's the tenderness in his gaze. You see the understanding in them, the concern and genuine desire to ease your troubles away.

Your initial perception of Leto has been wrong. You've been wary of him. Intimidated. But this is no man holding no care for you. He could have easily walked away after finding you amidst a fit. Instead, he stayed. He's here when you were convinced he would never find the time to be.

You open up to Leto like a floodgate, admitting to him the thoughts that plagued your mind from the day you learned about this marital arrangement, your nervousness for tomorrow's wedding and your fear of solitude in Caladan in the days that would follow.

You feel selfish, guilty even, for saying all of this out loud. You have no right to complain when the locals here have treated you with only kindness. Others would dream of being in your shoes—of living in a beautiful land, gaining an honorable title, and having a husband who would make you the envy of many.

Why must a blessing cause you great grief?

Leto listens to every word with undivided attention. He lets you speak freely and honestly, never once interfering between your sobs and sentences. He clears his throat only when the whispering waves of the ocean have lingered in the space between the two for some time.

"You are right when you said some of my advisors opposed me marrying you," Leto begins softly, gauging every bit of your reaction as he speaks. "They told me it would bring no benefit to House Atreides—that all we'll do is use up precious time and resources for a dying planet already beyond saving. Their words, not mine."

There is a quiet beat. Leto glances towards the horizon, where the first faint inklings of dawn break through the skies. He continues: "I realized then that those men do not uphold the same values I believe in. Caladan has more than enough riches to go around. There is no humanity in turning a blind eye to people's suffering—especially when we have it in our power to provide aid.

"I've had plenty of disagreements with my advisors, but I couldn't allow those without hearts to remain on my council. My lack of presence is not because I had no interest in getting to know you. Rather, I was ensuring those who showed little care for my bride and her ancestral land no longer served as advisors of mine—a task that regrettably stole time I would have spent with you."

You fall silent. The breath that leaves you seemingly takes more of the load on your being. Your respect for Leto grows. You see now the kind, thoughtful, benevolent man he is. 

How could you have been so wrong about him? You'd been irrational, too assuming. So afraid he would turn out to be the complete opposite when he gave you no valid reason that he's such. You should not have been quick to judge his character when you had known nothing about him in the first place.

"I... thank you, my lor—Leto," you eventually say, turning to him. Shame and remorse cling to your tongue. "I am terribly sorry again. Had my mind been sound, I would've realized my distress is unwarranted."

"Nonsense. You're overwhelmed; your worries were reasonable. All I want is the two of us to be on the same page," Leto replies. The warm smile that adorns his lips when you correct yourself and address him by name lingers. “Let's start over, shall we then?"

You watch as he stands on his feet, reaching out his hand towards you. With Leto's help, you pull yourself up from the sandy floor, shaking off the pins and needles stinging your limbs. He holds his hand out once more, this time for a handshake.

"Hello, I am Leto and welcome to Caladan. It is a pleasure to meet you and an honor to have your presence here."

A smile blooms across your face as you shake his hand, formally introducing yourself to Leto the way he had. "I cannot thank you enough for agreeing to this. I, my father, and our people are eternally grateful for your generosity."

Leto makes a small bow of his head, capturing your hand between his own. Something inside you feels lighter now. The air around you, once thick like water, isn't anymore.

"You will no longer have to worry about your home world. I will make certain they receive all that they need—as for you, as well. I am here for you, even if it's simply as an ear to listen."

A pause. Leto's voice melts a touch softer. He looks at you with eyes deep and brown as the bark of a pine. "In a matter of hours, you and I will wed. It's merely for formality's sake. What goes on between us as husband and wife is nobody's business but ours. Please know that I ask for and expect nothing in return for agreeing to this arrangement. You will never be forced to do anything you do not wish to. Ever. Is that understood?"

You take in Leto's words, becoming aware of the unspoken ones, those hidden between the lines. Their implications settle on you, and you let out a quiet breath of relief into the air.

"I do," you assure before adding, for what could be the hundredth time since Leto has joined you, "Thank you."

“You’re welcome, my lady.”

The sun peaks over the skyline, casting bright golden rays over Caladan. Leto briefly glances in the distance, the silver strands of his mane and beard catching the light, and they glimmer before your eyes. He smiles wide, the lines on his face crinkling as he watches the sunrise.

You also find yourself smiling, spending a moment more studying Leto's profile before turning to what's ahead of you.

Caladan takes your breath away, even more so in the daylight. You can fully appreciate it now that the storms in your mind have passed, and it's as clear as the skies.

"It's a beautiful day to get married." Leto remarks as the two of you gaze out to the water. After basking in the peaceful silence, he meets your eyes again, offering you his arm like a gentleman would. "Come, let me escort you back to your room. We both should rest up a bit before the festivities start."

Nodding in agreement, you quietly say goodbye to the ocean and allow Leto to guide you away from the beach. The sand beneath your shoes eventually turns to a rocky pathway at the foot of Castle Caladan, its grandeur towering over you.

A warm hand slips into yours.

"From now on, you will never feel alone," Leto says, pressing a soft squeeze to your hand. His hold is comforting, and reassuring. “You will always have me at your side, darling. I promise you that."

You smile at Leto, feeling something tender unfold in your chest when he returns a smile of his own.

You believe him, and for once, you think you will be okay.

—

taglist: @pigeonmama

please note that i’m starting a new taglist for my fics. if you would like to be included, let me know :)

#leto atreides x reader #duke leto x reader #dune fanfic #duke leto atreides fanfic #leto atreides fanfic #leto atreides x you #oscar isaac #oscar isaac x reader #my fics

[starstruckunknown-princess]

Belladonna - Leto Atreides x F!Reader

Belladonna (Atropa belladonna) - Meaning: Silence, betrayal

Summary: Duke Leto's new wife has been neglected. When the Duke finds her under his Swordmaster, he summons her to his office for a talk but it ends up not being what she expected.

Pairing: Leto Atreides x F!Reader, (past fling) Duncan Idaho x F!Reader

Word Count: 918

Warnings: Slight Hurt/Comfort, fluff, Discussion of marital neglect/politically arranged marriage that leads to infidelity, reader has female genitalia but is otherwise not described, slight language, reader tries to appear aloof, Leto is probably OOC, feelings talk, a little husband/wife flirting at the end

Day 4 my loves! This is my first Dune fic and I have only seen the 2021/2024 films and read through some of the Wiki pages so forgive me if there are horrendous inaccuracies. This takes place pre-Dune by about 10 years, so Paul is a kid and Leto is a little younger but still foxy as hell.

In Bloom Masterlist

Likes, Comments, Reblogs are SUPER appreciated! Thanks for reading <3

The thing about Caladan, you had come to learn, is that no matter where you were in the palace you could always hear the ocean. The crash of waves against the cliff below lulled you to sleep every night since your marriage to Duke Leto about two months ago. Sixty days, of which the Duke had only visited your bedchamber twice. The rest he spent, you assumed, in his chambers with Lady Jessica. 

In fact, you had barely seen him other than your weekly dinners since the wedding. The dinners were silent affairs, you on one end of the long formal dining table and the Duke on the other. Conversation extended no further than pleasantries. You didn’t mind too much — a political marriage like yours wasn’t meant to inspire affection and since the Duke had his concubine and his heir, you were only there to solidify the alliance between Caladan and your home planet, Calypso-9. 

Today, you’d been summoned to his office to discuss yesterday’s incident. 

The incident in which he’d found you underneath his Swordmaster Duncan Idaho in the training room. Half-naked. Writhing and crying in pleasure while Duncan pummeled your cervix with his impressive cock. It had been months since you’d been intimate with someone, and during your self-defense training Duncan’s touches while he corrected your form along with the smell of his sweat and endorphins from the exercise had proven to be too much. You’d given in to your baser instincts, and fuck, did it feel good.

Leto hadn’t said anything, only caught your attention with a loud clear of his throat. When he saw your and Duncan’s eyes on him, all he did was about-face and walk out of the room. 

He maintained the same stoic expression now. His dark eyes bore into yours as he stroked his beard. You had noticed how large his hands were during your wedding ceremony, and you remembered how they felt on you while he dispassionately consummated your union that night. All you could hear were the waves crashing. 

“I think we’re both aware of why I called you here,” he finally said, breaking the silence. 

“You found me fucking Duncan. I apologize if you were offended, my Lord, but I’m not sure why you called me here. Were you offended? Jealous?” You honestly didn’t know why he would want to hash this out between you unless he was going to scold you for being so indiscreet, which you supposed was deserved. 

“What if I was?” He asked, gaze softening before he continued without waiting for your answer, “Even though you and I both know I have no right to be. Our marriage is simply a political arrangement and I have Jessica and Paul while you left your homeworld to come here and be ignored by the husband you never wanted in the first place.” 

Gobsmacked. That was the only way you could describe yourself as you picked your jaw up off the floor. To say you hadn’t expected candor of this level was an understatement.

“I…Apologies, my Lord, but-” 

“Leto.”

“Pardon?”

“You are my wife, there’s no need for formalities. Call me Leto.”

You held back a scoff, turning it into a light sigh instead. “Since this is the second longest conversation we’ve ever had, you’ll forgive my hesitation with familiarities, but alright. Leto,” he nodded gratefully, so you continued, “I don’t fully understand your meaning.” 

“What I mean is I am angry about what I saw yesterday but not for the reasons you may think. I’m not upset with you because I understand that I am what drove you into the arms of my Swordmaster. I am angry with myself for neglecting you so cruelly since our wedding and I promise to do better by you. Perhaps not to Duncan’s extent, but-” 

You burst out laughing, which caused his brows to knit together in confusion. His large hands folded in front of him on his desk as you tried to get yourself under control. 

“I’m - I’m sorry,” you said, waving a hand in front of you, “I don’t mean to be laughing, I swear, but…is that all it would’ve taken to get your attention?” 

“Well, no, but-” 

“To think all I had to do was fuck someone else…I would’ve gotten your attention weeks ago.” 

“You’ve…been wanting my attention?”

This time you let your scoff out, “Of course! When my father told me he’d found me a husband I expected some old, ugly lord with at least two dead wives and no heirs. You cannot imagine the relief I felt when we met and you were none of those things.” 

“I’m not not old,” he chuckled, ducking his head.  

“Oh, pish, you’re barely forty, and don’t look it.” 

He looked up at you from under his regal brow and you felt butterflies stirring in your chest. “And you are one of the most beautiful women who has ever stepped foot on Caladan.” 

You couldn’t help the blush that rose in your cheeks, “Are you flirting with me, Leto?” 

“Perhaps. You are my wife after all,” he smirked, standing from behind his desk and coming around it, offering his arm to you. “Would you like to walk with me? A proper tour of the grounds?” 

You accepted, resting your hand in the crook of his arm and subtly stroking his inner forearm. “And maybe we can stop in the training room?” 

His smirk widened into a smile and you were enchanted at the sight. “Whatever my wife desires.” 

#writing challenge #fanfiction #dune fanfiction #leto atreides x you #leto atreides x reader #duncan idaho #political marriage au #dune fic #dune fanfic #duke leto x reader #duke leto x you #duke leto atreides #in bloom

[flightlessangelwings]

Ktober 2023 Day 12- Formal Wear

Duke Leto Atreides x fem!reader

Word count- 1.5k

Warnings- s.mut (18+ ONLY!), established relationship, reader wears a dress but it's not described to it's open for interpretation, praise kink, no use of y/n

Notes- I wasn't originally going to write for Leto but I was suddenly in the mood and this prompt fits so well! Prompt list made by me! Enjoy!

@flightlessangelwings-updates is myupdate blog so please follow that too and turn on post notifs to stay up to date on my new fics!

~

“My love are you read…” Duke Leto’s voice trailed off as he stepped through the threshold to your room and admired your figure in the low light.

“I am,” you turned around with a soft smile on your face. But, you looked down in embarrassment when you saw the way the Duke looked at you.

He looked at you in your formal dress as if he could devour you with his eyes. He looked at you as if he were a teenager again with no control of his expression. He looked at you as if he wanted to pounce on you and ravish you then and there. 

And pounce on you he did.

Leto crossed the room in a flash as instant grabbed you and yanked you against him, “My love,” he purred as he kissed your neck, “You look divine.”

You yelped at the sudden action, but quickly dissolved into a fit of giggles as his lush beard tickled your skin. Your skin warmed under his touch, and his gaze, and your heart fluttered at the way the normally composed man completely lost his cool at the sight of you all dressed up.

“My Lord,” you hummed, letting out a soft moan when he licked at a sensitive spot on your neck, “If we don’t go now, we’ll be late.”

“I don’t care,” Leto’s tone was low as he kissed his way up your neck and palmed your breasts through your dress.

“But,” you moaned as your mind swam, “It’s to honor you,” you squeaked when he dipped his hand under your dress, “We… Oh…”

“It doesn't matter to me,” the Duke said in a voice that made you clench your thighs together, “My love, all I care about right now,” he growled, “Is fucking you in this dress.”

“My Lord,” you whispered.

“Say my name,” he demanded softly, “I want to hear you say my name.”

“... Leto.”

He pulled his hand out to grab your hips and yanked you even closer so that your chest was flush against his. Leto took the opportunity when you dropped your mouth open in a silent gasp to take your lips with his. The kiss was deep and desperate and heated. His hands stayed firm on your hips to keep you close, as if he couldn’t get you close enough. His tongue explored every corner of your mouth, playing with your own tongue as he did so. Leto kissed you as if it were the first time, and to him every time he got to kiss you felt like the first time all over again.

Being with you never got old to Leto, and he craved you more and more with each passing day. Which was why when he saw you all dressed up in your best gown, he lost all his composure. The reception, the honor, the rest of the universe could wait. You were his entire world at that moment.

“Let me see how beautiful you are,” he purred as he broke away. Leto let you step back just enough so he could take in the sight of you once more, but he never let go of his grip on your hips.

“Leto,” you playfully chastised him from the way he not so subtly looked you up and down. But, you also took the moment to get a better look at him in his best uniform. Leto was always handsome to you, but the sight of him in formalwear took your breath away. Suddenly you didn’t care about the reception either. “You’ve never looked more handsome, Leto,” you cupped his face.

He smiled, a big beautiful smile that not many got to see, “My love,” he murmured before he took your lips once more.

This time, the kiss was deep and slow, and Leto dipped his hands underneath your gown once more. You clung to his shoulders as you adjusted yourself to give him better access. And when his fingers made contact with your clit, you squealed into his mouth.

Leto hummed in approval as he fiddled with your clit gently. You felt his smile even when his lips never left yours, and you tugged at his jacket to pull him closer to you. It started a dance between the two of you- you pulled him closer, and Leto pushed you towards a destination. Neither of you ever fully broke away from the other as you ran your hands all across his chest and his stayed between your legs.

When you bumped into the desk in the far end of the room, you knew exactly what Leto had in mind. Without needing to look, you leveled yourself up onto the desk, with his help. That was the first time the two of you broke away from each other.

You looked at each other, breathless, for a few moments. Leto’s neatly done hair fell forward and the greyed curls framed his face. He looked like living art. His already dark eyes were blown black with desire and his parted lips let out his heavy breaths. Your breasts rose and fell with your own deep breaths, and you saw his eyes trail down to watch the sight.

“Like what you see?” you asked playfully.

“Very much,” he groaned as he leaned in to kiss you once more.

Passions rose as Leto pushed your dress up your legs while your tongues tangled together. He swallowed the moan you let out as you wrapped your arms around his shoulders, pulling him in close, as you parted your legs for him. A wordless invitation that Duke Leto eagerly took.

“I need you, my love,” he confessed in a hushed tone when he broke away for a breath.

“I need you,” you echoed as your foreheads pressed together while Leto unbuckled his pants and freed his cock. Instantly, your eyes landed on his hardened length, already throbbing and ready for you. “Please,” you begged in a whisper.

“You never have to ask me, my love,” Leto groaned as he pumped his cock a few times before he lined himself up with your pussy, “Fuck you’re so wet already.”

“Leto…” you whimpered as he slowly started to push into you.

You held onto him for dear life as his cock entered your pussy inch by delicious inch. You cried out as the familiar stretch burned so good. Incoherent babbles dripped from your lips as Leto fully sheathed himself inside of you.

“Fuck,” you breathed when he bottomed out inside of you.

Neither of you took anything off, and it only made the moment more meaningful. There you both were, dressed in your best, fucking on Leto’s desk. The desperation felt too great, and both of you were too turned on by the other in their formalwear to even want to take anything off.

Leto mumbled a praise as he started rocking in and out of you. He grabbed your ass and used the leverage to yank you closer, burying himself even deeper inside you. You cried out in pleasure as you clung to his shoulders and surrendered yourself to him. It was easy for you to relinquish control when it came to him, you trusted him, you loved him.

“Love,” Leto grunted, “You’re so beautiful.”

“So are you,” you moaned as the room spun with every thrust of his cock. As Leto picked up his pace, desperate for release, you started to feel that familiar tingle build from deep within you, “Leto… Fuck… I’m gonna cum.”

“Cum for me, my love,” he grunted as he pulled you closer and pounded into you, “Let me feel you.”

You screamed and threw your head back as your climax hit. Your legs trembled on either side of Leto’s body as you came hard, squeezing his cock as you did so. Leto wrapped his arms around you, holding you as close as possible while you rode out your orgasm on his cock until yo uhad no more left to give.

And that was when Leto finally let himself go. With a groan of your name, he came just as hard. His cock twitched inside you as he spilled himself in your pussy. He continued to spill incoherent praises as he thrust himself into you over and over again, riding out his own orgasm.

When he himself was spent, Leto reeled forward, keeping you in his arms as he did so. The two of you collapsed down onto his desk and let out heavy pants as you let your heart rates go down to normal.

“We really will be very late now, you know,” you said with a laugh.

“It doesn’t matter,” Leto pushed himself up onto his elbows to look at you, “You are always worth it, my dear.”

You looked at him with a pleading expression as you cupped his face, stroking his beard under your fingers, “So are you,” you gently guided him down to kiss you once more, “So are you, my love.”

#fawktober2023 #kinktober #leto atreides #duke leto atreides #leto atreides x reader #duke atreides #duke atreides x reader #leto atreides x you #leto atreides imagine #leto atreides fic #duke leto atreides x reader #duke leto atreides x you #duke leto atreides x y/n #duke letro atreides fic #duke leto atreides fanfiction #duke leto atreides fanfic #leto atreides fanfic #duke atreides x you #duke leto x reader #oscar isaac #oscar isaac fandom #dune fic #dune fanfic #dune fanfiction #dune fandom

[bits-and-babs]

Congratulations on 6k Jas! That’s amazing and you deserve ALL the followers!!

🐺 - “The Other Woman” [for any OI Character 🥰]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐖𝐎𝐌𝐀𝐍

pairing: Duke Leto Atreides x F!Reader

Warnings: 18+ cheating, oral (f receiving), semi-exhibitionism(?), almost (?) getting caught.

leto masterlist | main masterlist | follower celebration | taglist |

Sweat beads at your brow and soaks into the delicate lace of your ball gown dress, the skirts draped unceremoniously over the silvering curls atop the Duke’s head. He’d dragged you away from the dance, unable to stand being away from you much longer. You moan softly, pressing the crown of your skull against the sandstone-bricks that make up the Arakeen Palace you had occupied only weeks ago as Leto Atreides’ tactician. 

“Oh-” You gasp softly as said Duke’s tongue lathes greedily over your soaked cunt, swallowing you down and teasing your clit. His beard scrapes against the inside of your thighs as he tastes you, his palms squeezing at the flesh he managed to grasp beneath the layers of fabric you managed to hold over him with your shaking hands. 

“Quietly,” he murmurs softly, teasingly, and you ball your fists against the expensive Caladanian silks. You don’t mind if you ruin them, Arakis is far too hot to be wearing these ridiculous layers anyway. 

“Leto, please,” you beg him, far from the eloquent figure you cut at his table of battle scarred soldiers that claimed allegiance to his house. It sounds pathetic, the pleas that drip wantonly from your lips. Leto drinks them down, sucking on your clit and eliciting further dishonour from your desperate body. 

“I-” dropping your skirts, you grasp tightly at his hair, pulling on the strands and bracing against the tidal wave that threatens to swallow you up. It’s coming-

“Have you seen The Duke?” 

The sound of Lady Jessica’s voice drags you from the depths of your bliss, and you come up for air. You gasp loudly, hand pressed to your heart as you turn towards the sound of her. Leto, swallowed by your skirts, breathes shakily against your core. 

She stands at the head of the hallway, concern creasing her brow. She can’t find him, no doubt looking for Leto to squirrel him away to some important Arakeen nobleman. You shake your head stiffly, knowing how it must look. 

“If you see him, tell him I sent for him.”

“Yes,” you nod weakly, only squeezing your eyes shut in fear when she disappears around the corner, her nails digging into her palms. Guilt swallows you. 

Leto smooths his hands down your thighs in an attempt to ease you, pulling himself from your robes. 

“It’s alr-”

“She knows.”

#leto #leto atreides x reader #duke leto atreides x reader #duke leto atreides smut #duke leto #duke leto atreides x you #duke leto x you #duke leto x reader #leto ii #leto atreides x you #duke leto atreides #leto atreides smut #leto atreides #oscar isaac x reader #oscar isaac smut #oscar isaac #dune fanfic #dune fanfiction #dune smut #dune movie #✩‧₊˚ 6k follower celebration ˚₊‧✩ #જ⁀➴ mail: received

[deedeeruin]

Dear writers THANK YOU for feeding us well 💖 with your Feyd Rautha X reader , oc , imagines ... THANK YOU

BUt now can we stop having

Feyd Rautha X Atreides oc s ?

Pleaaaaaaaaaaaaassse thank you 🫶🏾

#feyd rautha x reader #feyd rautha harkonnen #feyd smut #irulan corrino #dune #feyd rautha x you #dune part two #dune part 2 #paul atreides #leto atreides #dune fanfic #feyd rautha

[catlordewrites]

Galatea - Chapter One

Masterlist - Ao3

Summary: A cheap Arrakeen prostitute, chained to the city brothel by an unfair contract and desperate for freedom, is offered the chance of a lifetime.

A/N: Basically unedited. Not my best work. Tryna get out of a writing slump so you get what you get

Chapter Warnings: smut, a smidge of knife play, prostitution, mentions of rape, depression, anxiety

Rating: EXPLICIT 18+ ONLY

This part, Galatea was all too familiar with.

The groundcar waiting for her outside the brothel was nondescript. Grey metal and dark windows. The man that opened the door for her wore a black work uniform stripped of insignia. She knew the type. Spine rimrod straight. Eyes front. Trying just a little too hard not to seem like he was ogling the beautiful woman scantily dressed in fine silk.

Galatea shot him a wink. He blushed.

From there, though, things got a bit more complicated.

She slid gracefully onto the fine leather seats, trying not to think about how desperately she wanted tonight to succeed.

Chances of everything happening the way they needed to were exceedingly slim. She knew better than to get her hopes up. She wasn’t a dreamer, but she had been, once. Despite all she’d been through, it was a habit that just wouldn’t die.

Arrakeen was a city of many pains. And many pleasures. The House of Priapos was the largest purveyor of both. Women—and men—for all social classes. The brothel itself took up a city block, with the Trulls crammed into tiny stalls at the bottom, separated from the street by only threadbare curtains; while the wealthy enjoyed High Courtesans tucked away in luxurious penthouses that made up the highest floors.

Galatea operated somewhere in the middle.

Trapped by an unfair contract that she had signed years ago when she had been young and desperate, she could be dressed up as a courtesan, or down as a street whore, and had no room to argue either way.

Tonight, though, was unprecedented.

Galatea was to entertain the Duke of Caladan and Arrakis.

Although her hourly rate was much higher than the average Arrakeen man could afford, compared to the usual girls enjoyed by Imperium Nobility, she was trashy, at best.

It was a fluke, really.

Zoie, a High Courtesan who happened to be Galatea’s close friend, had recently taken the Atreides Warmaster as a client. He had been pleased with her, and after a few sessions, mentioned that the Duke was in need of a new lover, and asked if she had any recommendations.

Zoie owed Galatea quite a lot, and a recommendation whispered in the right ear went a long way.

The Arrakeen Palace was massive. For all the years she’d lived in Arrakis, it had been a looming mountain above the city, little more than an extension of the Shield Wall’s craggy peaks.

Galatea had certainly never been inside, but she knew a few women that had. She shifted nervously in her seat as the groundcar passed though the first security checkpoint at the outer gate, wondering at how they’d never thought to mention that the outer walls were at least fifteen feet thick. Or that armed guards bristled at every corner.

The groundcar skirted the main entrance and rolled to a stop at a smaller door just off of the courtyard, where a female guard waited. After scanning her for concealed weapons, the guard led the way inside.

She was guided on a long, winding route. Down cavernous corridors and up quite a few stairs. They encountered no one. It was planned, certainly. They were hardly going to advertise when a whore was being brought in for the Duke to fuck.

The guard’s footsteps echoed smartly through the silence, while Galatea’s delicate sandals whispered in afterthought. For a few long moments, Galatea could almost believe that they were the only souls in the entire palace. The utilitarian minimalism of the place did nothing to lessen the effect—the sandstone walls were smooth and bare. Like some suspiciously clean tomb lost deep in the desert.

The illusion was shattered when they rounded a final corner and were faced by two more guards. After being checked for weapons a second time. Her escort led her past them and down a hall that looked a bit more lived in. Still spotless, but a few paintings adorned the walls and a long crimson rug ran the length of the floor.

The guard stopped at a fairly nondescript door and turned to face her.

“The groundcar will be waiting for you at dawn,” she explained, her voice as clipped and measured as her gait. “You will be escorted out of the building. Do not wander. If you need to leave early, tell the guards. They will call for the groundcar. Do you understand?”

Galatea saw it now—the disgust hidden behind the guard’s professional mask. It wasn’t the sort of thing that she usually let faze her. People were disgusted by whores until they wanted to use one. But she was already feeling a bit out of her depth, and the blatant distaste turned the whispers in the back of Galatea’s mind into wailing sirens.

There’s a reason they use highborn ladies for this, she thought bitterly as the guard left her alone in the hall. Cheap is cheap and trash is trash.

But then the logic of Zoie—who was decidedly not cheap—rose out of the mix, accompanied by the trademark shrug of her lovely shoulders.

Who the fuck cares? A cock is a cock. Milk him and move on.

Galatea couldn’t argue with that. She lifted her hand and knocked.

The answering voice was low and soft. “Come in.”

The door opened smoothly on well oiled hinges, and Galatea was treated to the view of the room beyond.

The Duke’s suite was large and spacious, framed on one side by shelves laden with books and strange trinkets from his homeworld, and by the thin slip of a very wide but short window that was a standard Arrakis style on the other. The bed was tucked away at the far side of the room—large and neatly made underneath a beautiful bronze mural of a curling sandworm. A few steps from the bed was a doorway—presumably a bathroom—and a short distance from that, the closet. The room also sported a small breakfast table, a chaise lounge with matching chairs, and a writing desk.

The Duke himself sat at the desk, hunched over a stack of papers with a pen in hand. Galatea’s breath hitched in her throat—half from admiration, half from nerves.

Duke Leto Atreides was an extremely handsome man. Olive skin turned golden by the Arrakis sun and heightened under the warm glow of the glowglobes. He had a sharp, angular face softened by curly black hair and a beard to match, both shot through with elegant streaks of silver. Thick, heavy eyebrows sat above the eyes of a poet, pulling his expression into one of constant brooding.

There was no point in trying to pretend that she didn’t find him attractive. Doing nothing to hide the way her eyes flitted appreciatively around his body, Galatea dipped into a polite curtsy and flashed him her most winning smile.

“My Lord.”

He gave her the barest glance, then went back to writing.

“I’ll be with you in a minute. Make yourself comfortable.”

The disinterest gave her pause.

Galatea was not the first woman that had been hired for this job. Although the Courtesans that had come before her had been sworn into silence, Zoie was persistent. Through her usual persuasion tactics and ability to root out gossip from the most stubborn sources, the beautiful Courtesan was able to garner that, out of six High Courtesans, the Duke had sent them all away.

And if they hadn’t been able to please the Duke, what hope did Galatea have?

Well, he hasn’t dismissed me yet.

She turned to one of the bookshelves. Galatea ran her fingers down a few of the leather bound spines and read the titles. Paper books were incredibly rare on Arrakis. There were no trees; wood and paper had to be imported. She had a digital tablet, though. Reading was one of the few hobbies she could afford. There wasn’t much else to do to fill the time between clients, anyhow.

The Duke heaved a sigh. Out of the corner of her eye, Galatea watched him set aside his papers and stare off into space. He drummed his fingers on the desk. Lost in thought.

The decision was made. He stood. Strode purposefully around the desk.

“Alright. Come here.”

The command in his tone made Galatea shiver with anticipation. As much as she hated the brothel, the contract, the lack of choice, her masters—this part, especially when she liked the look of the client, could be a lot of fun.

She met him in the middle. The Duke’s arms wrapped around her, dragged her body against his, left no room for argument. Then his mouth was on hers. Hard. Demanding. Tongues and teeth. No preamble. Absolutely filthy.

Fuck, he was a good kisser. Of course he was. A man as beautiful as he was didn’t skate through life without getting a lot of practice.

Galatea’s knees went weak, and she grabbed onto his shoulders to keep upright. The Duke didn’t seem to notice, and instead used her loss of balance to steer her towards the chaise lounge.

Once he had her underneath him, he wasted no time in pulling the straps of her dress down her shoulders, loosening the silk enough to free her breasts. Then that wonderful mouth was on her neck. She gasped as his beard scraped along her collarbone. Eager to match his intensity, Galatea slipped a hand between their bodies to rub his cock through his trousers. She could feel the outline of him through the thick fabric—still soft, but of pleasing size.

Galatea hummed appreciatively. The Duke paused, his breath ghosting past her ear. She threaded her free hand through his hair and pulled him back in for another kiss.

He reciprocated, but something had shifted.

The Duke tolerated a few more moments of her touch, then he heaved a sigh and pulled away. Galatea was left draped on the lounge, tits out and baffled as he returned to his desk.

“Thank you for coming here tonight,” he said, settling back down in his chair and shuffling papers as he returned to his work. “You may go.”

Shocked, Galatea sat up and fixed her clothes. She opened her mouth. Closed it. Cheap whore or not, she knew she was attractive. It was usually the lead up when a client lost interest—when the knowledge of her unfashionable price and breeding was at the forefront. But once a man got his hands on her, he always followed through.

“My Lord… forgive me, but … have I done something wrong?”

He didn’t look at her. “No. You will be paid in full.”

Galatea could have cried. It wasn’t about the money. She saw so little of the money she made for the brothel that it didn’t have much meaning for her anymore, beyond the fact that she was cheap—which her handlers reminded her of at every opportunity. But the Duke was in need of a lover. Leto the Just, they called him. A good and fair man, one that had the authority and money to pay off her contract with the brothel and set her free, if he liked her enough. If he liked her more than enough, he might even bring her into his House. He could make her a concubine. And finally, after so many years, she could have the quiet, stable life that she’d always wanted.

No more beatings. No more scrounging. No more pleasuring the questionable men that the courtesans above her didn’t want. No more falling asleep to moans and screams. No more knowing that there were women several floors below her getting raped and being able to do nothing about it.

She could be free.

It was a pipe dream. She knew that. But having the hope crushed before it could even fully take root was devastating.

From the despair came indignation, and from that came anger. Anger always made her reckless.

She returned to the bookshelf. Figuring that the Duke wouldn’t leave sensitive information just out on a shelf, Galatea decided it was safe to help herself to one that sounded interesting.

This was an opportunity. Good things never happened to Galatea. She had hours left until the brothel expected her back, so she might as well make the most of the Duke’s luxuries.

And if he really wanted her to leave, he could make her.

Galatea settled down on the chaise lounge with her book and began to read.

It was the Duke’s turn to be shocked. He stared at her, heavy eyebrows low with a frown. “What are you doing?”

Galatea shrugged. “You’ve paid for my time already. How we spend it is entirely up to you. And if what you want is something pretty to brighten the room while you work, then that’s fine by me.”

The Duke blinked at that for a few moments. Utterly perplexed. Galatea wasn’t sure if that was good or bad.

“… As you please.”

They stayed like that for a while. The silence was soothing, full of nothing more than the occasional shuffle of papers and soft breaths. The world within the Arrakeen Palace was so far from the one she knew in the city—too far above for the bustle and chatter of people, groundcars, and animals to reach. Isolated. Alone in a bubble. Close enough to see the lights but too far away to touch.

Galatea wondered if the Duke was lonely.

She wasn’t really sure of the details. Zoie tended to not make a ton of sense when she was excited. Galatea mulled over what had gathered from the younger woman’s babbling.

The Duke’s concubine—his partner of fifteen years and the mother of his only son—had left him. She, along with their son, had gone into the desert to join the Fremen. The rest was speculation, but there seemed to be a consensus that the son, at least, had gone with the Duke’s blessing. The Fremen had been the reason that House Atreides managed to survive those harrowing first few months of their hold on Arrakis.

Galatea shivered at the memory. She remembered the night well. The sounds of roaring engines and lasguns had made the city tremble. Fire had lit the sky as ships rained down over the Shield Wall. The attack had been massive. The kind that no one was meant to survive.

But the Fremen had come out of the desert—Galatea wouldn’t pretend to understand why—and when dawn came, House Atreides still stood.

Loaning his heir out to learn the ways of the Fremen seemed a small price to pay for an alliance.

But it didn’t explain why Lady Jessica had gone as well.

Eventually, Galatea felt the Duke’s eyes on her again. She thought that he was searching for something to say, so she read aloud:

“Discovery is dangerous…but so is life. A man unwilling to take risks is doomed never to learn, never to grow, never to live.”

The Duke nodded. “That’s Pardot Kynes, the former planetologist. Dr. Liet Kynes gifted me a copy of some of her father’s writings.”

“I’ve heard of him, I think. He was supposed to be a very brilliant man.”

“It seems that way, yes.” The Duke leaned back in his chair, a bitter smile twisting at his lips. “Though sometimes I wonder if his experience was incomplete.”

“How do you mean, my Lord?”

“Perhaps one type of danger helps a man to grow. The experience makes him more of a leader. While others do the opposite. Less of a leader… less of a man.”

She tilted her head. Considered him. The faraway look. The grim smile. Tension pulled at his shoulders and exhaustion at his spine. The way he’d clutched at her reminded her of a man taking medicine—the action of doing something despite not really wanting to because it would make him feel better.

Less of a leader… less of a man.

Ah.

That was something she could work with.

The realization gave her direction, and direction gave her confidence. Galatea stood and crossed over to the desk. The Duke tilted his chin to look up at her, holding her gaze as her knees brushed his when she hopped up to sit on the desk.

Galatea cocked her head to the side as she considered him. She’d had this conversation before. Great care was needed. Proud men had the tendency to lash out, and the Duke of Caladan and Arrakis was certainly a proud man.

But at the same time, this was a man that had committed to one woman for over fifteen years. That, especially among Landsraad nobility, was extremely rare. He hadn’t been able to marry his concubine, but had also refused to marry anyone else. Unheard of.

What sort of a man was Leto Atreides?

Galatea was good at reading people. Getting a snap impression of someone, and then being able to act on it, was one of the most important skills a whore could have. Besides sucking cocks, of course, but that was a given.

Fifteen years. A son. Now he was alone. Responsible for far too many things, all of which seemed to be within a hair's breadth of falling apart. Under a great deal of stress.

This was the sort of man that wanted someone else to take control. Be taken care of. Just for a while. Being bossed around for a bit would definitely do him good.

“Leto,” Galatea began, making careful use of his first name, “when’s the last time you slept?”

Whatever he was expecting, that wasn’t it. Leto huffed a laugh. “My duties don’t exactly lend to a regular sleep schedule.”

“So in other words, you’ve been living on anti-fatigue pills?”

He shrugged.

“Leto.” He hadn’t corrected her for using his name, and she took it as a signal that she was allowed to keep doing so. She rolled her eyes and gave a disappointed shake of her head.

The Duke watched her, somehow much more interested than he had been when he’d had his mouth on her tits. She couldn’t be offended, though. The intensity of his undivided attention was far too distracting.

Galatea slipped off her sandals and rested her bare feet on his thighs. Rested her elbows on her knees and her hand on one hand. The action forced him to lean back in his seat, his legs nudged apart by the weight of her.

Leto arched an eyebrow. The look on his face was one Galatea had seen many times—the one that said, I’m in complete control of this situation, and I’m letting you do this because I think it’s amusing.

Galatea tipped her head to indicate his crotch. “And you don’t suspect a connection between the two?”

To his credit, he handled the entirely unsubtle reference to his manhood with more dignity than most refined men Galatea knew. A slight widening of the eyes. The subtle reddening of the ears.

She suppressed a smile.

“I… uh…” He cleared his throat. “I was assured that anti-fatigue pills have no…er… side effects…”

“Oh, Leto honey.” Galatea pressed her hand to his cheek. “Beautiful boy. I’m a whore. You can speak plainly about your cock with me. God knows I handle enough of them.”

Turns out, the direct approach yielded delightful results. Leto sputtered and tried to cover it with a cough. He didn’t really want to look her in the eye, so he lowered his gaze. After a moment, it occurred to him that he was looking at her breasts. His eyes shot back up to her face, then drifted off to the side. His blush deepened, creeping down his neck.

Fuck, he was pretty.

“I…uh… wouldn’t want to burden you.” He gave a nervous chuckle. “That’s not exactly something you talk about with a potential lover.”

“On the contrary, who better to ask? These things happen—it’s normal—and most everyone tries to solve it the same way you did.”

“Fair enough, I suppose.” He still wouldn’t look her in the eye, but the blush was fading. Galatea vowed to bring it back as soon as possible. “So it’s the pills?”

“Not exactly, but they certainly don’t help. How much sleep have you gotten in, say…the last two weeks?”

“I don’t know. Twelve? Maybe less.”

Galatea felt a wave of pity. No wonder the poor thing was having problems.

“Consider the mind and the body.” She held out both hands symbolically. “They work together, but they’re separate entities. The mind tells the body what to do, and the body does it. The heart needs to beat. Walk from your desk to the bookshelf. Move your hands to write a letter. But the body has opinions too. It tells the mind what it needs. I’m hungry. This hurts. I’m tired. I need to rest.”

She looked at him pointedly.

“I’m with you so far.”

“Good. So your body is telling the mind that it’s tired. You start yawning. Your brain gets fuzzy. You can’t keep your eyes open. But you’re a busy man. You have Duke things to do. So you take one of those helpful little pills, and you can keep going. But the pill isn’t making your body less tired, it’s just shutting up all the usual ways it lets you know that it needs a break. And that’s fine… for a while. But the longer you go without doing the things your body needs, the more desperate it gets. You aren’t listening to the usual signals, so it starts finding other ways to get your attention.”

Galatea gestured to his crotch again. “This is a very common one for men. Auditory hallucinations usually come next.”

Leto let out a breath. He wasn’t as shy now, which was a shame, but Galatea appreciated the glint of relief in his eyes. A small smile quirked at his lips.

“So what would you recommend, nurse?”

“It’s doctor, actually. Dr Whore. And for the long term, I prescribe sleep. No anti-fatigue pills for at least two weeks, unless absolutely necessary.”

He huffed, but was actually smiling now. “That’s a big ask, you know.”

“Make that three weeks, then. Also,” she took his chin between her index finger and thumb, “stop worrying about it. Your cock is fine. There’s nothing to be ashamed of. These things happen a lot more often than you think. And worrying makes it worse.”

“Alright, I get it.” He turned his face into her hand. His lips brushed her thumb. “And what about the short term, Dr Whore?”

“A massage, definitely,” was her immediate response. “While you were having a grope earlier, I felt your back. It’s all tied up in knots. A massage, and then a good night's sleep.” She paused, picked at a lock of his curly hair. It was still a little mussed from when she’d run her fingers through it, and now it was obvious how oily it was. “Scratch that. A bath. A nice warm bath. Massage. Then sleep. Lucky you, I’m good at all of those things. Bathroom’s through there, yeah?���

“A bath? On Arrakis? Isn’t that wasteful?” Leto protested as she slid off the desk and made her way towards the bathroom without waiting for an answer.

The bathroom, as the rest of Leto’s residence, was both spartan and beautiful. Decent sized, with a large tub taking up the center, a separate shower, toilet, and sink with a vanity all rounding the walls with accompanying shelves.

“How can it be wasteful?” Galatea countered, turning on the water. “You have a water reclamation system, right?”

Leto trailed into the room after her, looking a little lost. “Of course.”

“And filters in the cooling systems to collect the steam in the air?”

“Yeah, but…”

“But nothing. You’re the Duke. You deserve a nice bath from time to time. Call it a prerogative.” Satisfied with the water temperature, she straightened up and faced him, hands on her hips. “Now strip. I’m going to see if you have anything here we can actually use.”

With that, she started rummaging through his cabinets. Leto was a practical man, not prone to collecting frivolous things. But at his station, being well groomed was a necessity. Shampoo. Conditioner. Soap. Body wash. Beard oil. Lotion. All decent smelling. But next time… if there was a next time… she would bring some nicer things for him to use.

Galatea gathered up her finds and turned to see that Leto had done as she asked. He leaned over the edge of the tub, deliciously bare as he swished his hand through the water, brow furrowed in thought.

Heat pooled in her stomach. It wasn’t exactly uncommon for her to find clients attractive. But fuck, this just wasn’t fair.

Smooth golden skin stretched over an athletic build. Leto was sculpted as a statue—a beautiful amalgamation of well-toned muscles and soft flesh. A handful of scars smattered his upper body, and Galatea longed to trace them. Those, and the lovely curve of his arse.

Leto glanced up and saw her looking. His pensive expression turned smug.

Galatea laughed quietly and gave his face a light shove, telling him to hurry up and get in the bath. Leto did as he was told, a sigh of relief escaping him as he sank into the water.

“A Duke’s prerogative, you said?”

Galatea set down her things and stripped to the waist. “Prerogative. Absolutely.” She turned off the water and settled on her knees behind his head. “You work too hard. You deserve some things that make you feel good.”

Leto didn’t respond, just hummed absently as she added soap to the water and wet a fluffy washcloth. With it, she began to clean his chest and neck. His skin was hot under her hand, and she thought about what it would feel like to explore the same area with her mouth.

He sighed blissfully at her touch. Galatea imagined that it wouldn’t take much to make him moan.

Perhaps it was these thoughts that set the stage for her next one, or maybe she was riding the high of having made it farther than the other women that the brothel had sent before her. Either way, when she spotted the knife laying carelessly among Leto’s discarded clothing, Galatea got a very, very bad idea.

And GOD, it was such a bad idea. The kind where she wasn’t sure if it was so bad that it was good, or so good it was bad. The kind that, if it didn’t work, could absolutely get her killed. Hell, it might get her killed even if it did work. Fuck. No. It wasn’t worth the risk.

But as she continued to wash the Duke, her hands slowly dipping lower and lower down his abdomen, the idea niggled in the back of her mind.

Galatea knew that she had already set herself apart from the other whores the Duke had hired. No one else had made it past his dismissal. She should be satisfied with that. She should be thrilled by that.

But what about when the Duke’s problem passed? He wouldn’t need Galatea’s brusque attitude and world wisdom anymore. There were far more beautiful women for him to choose from that would be able to more than keep him satisfied.

The terrible idea took root.

Risk had gotten her this far. It seemed only fitting to let it take her all the way.

“Wet your hair for me, beautiful boy,” Galatea murmured in his ear.

Leto hummed acknowledgement and, while his head slipped down beneath the water, Galatea picked up the knife and tucked it safely in the waistband of her skirt.

Outwardly, Galatea calmly squirted shampoo into her hands. Inwardly, her heart hammered so wildly that she thought it might be trying to escape the rest of her body before it was too late.

Her fingers threaded through Leto’s hair. She worked the shampoo into a fine froth and used her nails to trace circles into his scalp. A head massage was one of the things that almost every man adored but never knew to ask for. She took her time with it. Although she was getting impatient, there was no need to rush.

Leto went boneless. His head lolled obediently with her touch. When she tilted his head back against her bare chest, he went willingly. One of her hands ghosted up his throat and scratched along his jaw, adding a little shampoo to his beard.

Galatea took her time rinsing him, too. She had him lean forward while she poured water from a pitcher over his head, careful not to get any into his eyes.

“Conditioner now,” Galatea told him. “Same idea.”

Leto leaned back against her and closed his eyes, so trusting and content.

Galatea reached down and, instead of the conditioner, picked up the knife. Before she could see reason and talk herself out of it, she had it against Leto’s throat.

The Duke inhaled sharply. His eyes snapped open, wide with shock. All of the relaxation she’d coaxed into him dissipated.

“What is this?” He demanded, his voice tight with anger. She thought of him as a coiled spring, ready to launch into motion. Ready to fight. But Galatea was in control. He was at her mercy. So he stayed perfectly still. Waiting for her to make a move.

Somehow, Galatea was able to hide how affected she was—practically trembling with arousal, fear, and adrenaline. Her free hand drifted down his body and wrapped around his pretty cock.

Leto gasped. This time, his body responded to her beautifully.

“Your body is trying to tell you something, Leto,” she whispered against his ear. “What’s it saying?”

She pumped him slowly. A low groan rumbled in his chest. His head pressed back against her sternum as he started to pant.

Galatea watched his face carefully. Checking for any sign of genuine distress. He was smart. By now, he understood what she was doing. The alarm was gone, but he remained guarded. His lovely poet eyes flickered from her face to where her hand worked between his legs.

He had to know by now that he wasn’t in any danger. What kind of assassin jerked off her victim first?

Leto shuddered against her as she increased her pace. With the blade still pressed tightly against his throat, he fought to keep still. The wariness gave way to pleasure. His eyes fluttered closed, and the quiet of the bathroom was filled with his quiet moans.

Desperate to hold something, but knowing better than to grab at her arms—as both hands were very busy—Leto clutched the edges of the tub so hard that his fingers turned white.

“My beautiful boy,” Galatea murmured, her lips touching his ear. “You needed this, didn’t you? You’re doing so well. Let go. I’ve got you.”

He didn’t last very long, but then, she hadn’t wanted him to. Leto’s body arched in the water. He gasped and cursed and shuddered. Galatea held him through it, whispering soft encouragement and praises until he slumped back against her, utterly spent.

Galatea lay the knife to the side, dizzy with relief and her own daring. She took Leto’s head in her hands, brushing his wet curls from his face and checking his neck.

To her horror, a single pearl of blood welled from a small cut across his throat. It was hardly more than a shaving cut, but it filled her with terror.

She had held a Duke at knifepoint. She’d made him bleed.

Galatea pressed her thumb against it, willing it to disappear. Leto winced slightly and opened one eye.

“I didn’t actually mean to cut you,” Galatea said weakly. “I’m sorry.”

Leto closed his eyes again and nuzzled against her arm.

“S’fine,” he mumbled. Adrenaline had given his system the kickstart that it needed, but it was fading fast. “Worth it.”

Relieved, Galatea kissed the top of his head. Then she went to work finishing his bath—applying and rinsing conditioner, washing his face, applying beard oil. She did it fairly quickly, knowing that the endorphins, combined with his exhaustion, were calling him to sleep. Galatea was stronger than she looked, but she couldn’t carry him to bed. Leaving him to sleep in the tub wasn’t exactly an option either.

When she guided him up to his feet, he went willingly. Leto stood while she dried him with a towel, meek and obedient as a child. By the time she grabbed the lotion she’d found and steered him out of the bathroom, Galatea thought he seemed half asleep already.

She pulled back the sheets of his bed. “Lay down on your stomach, beautiful boy. There you go.”

Leto all but sagged into bed. He buried his face into his pillow with a relieved sigh. Galatea joined him, kneeling by his hips and lathering her hands with lotion.

Within minutes, he was asleep. Galatea spent a good hour working out the knots in his back. She kneaded and pressed the tension in his tired muscles until they were jelly. Then she did the same to his legs, his feet, his buttocks.

He looked so good like this. If Galatea knew how to paint, she would have gladly spent the rest of the night capturing this image. Truely, it belonged with the ancient Renaissance artworks she’d seen in her holobooks. Exposed, vulnerable, beautiful.

When she was done, Galatea pulled the blankets over him. There was some time left before dawn, but she didn’t dare sleep. Instead, she fetched another book from the shelf and settled down on top of the covers beside the sleeping Duke.

She wiled away the hours, soothed by Leto’s soft snores and the silence of the Palace. She could get used to this. She begged every god in existence to let her get used to this.

Dawn came too soon. Galatea returned her books to their respective spots on the shelves. She had a few of the brothel’s business cards in her small clutch, one of which she retrieved along with her lipstick.

Galatea applied a fresh coat to her lips, then pressed them to the card. The shape of her kiss transferred perfectly just below the House of Priapos inscription. Below that, Galatea wrote her name in an elegant, looping hand.

She left the card on his desk and left, hoping that she would be seeing this place again very soon.

#duke leto atreides x reader #duke leto x reader #duke leto fanfiction #duke leto atreides #duke leto atreides x oc #dune fanfiction #oc #fanfiction #my art #fanfic #duke leto x oc #leto atreides x oc #leto atreides x reader

[atrxides]

I genuinely will never get over leto x jessica, I have found so much of myself in both their characters and relationship and they're part of my core being now. Try and pry them from my cold, dead hands.

#also i started writing that 200k+ word fanfic i was talking about #so we'll see where that goes #I JUST LOVE THEM SM #jessica atreides #jessica x leto #duke leto #leto atreides #paul atreides #rebecca ferguson #oscar isaac #lady jessica #dune #dune part two #dune movie

[dailyreverie]

Rainy afternoon

A/N: Requested by @scarlett-scarab. Here's some very fluffy Duke Leto so you can come back to it on a rainy day... quite literally because that's pretty much what this is about lol. This is not spicy, gif is for vibes only. Also since we don't have soft Duke Leto scenes I need to use our favorite toxic man.

Fall prompts 🍂 Rainy day spent inside

Pairing: Duke Leto Atreides x reader

Word count: 619

CW: It gets kind of spicy at some point but nothing graphic or explicit. Minors DNI.

You always loved rain in Caladan. It always managed to make everyone calm, the rocks of the mountains would glisten with the droplets and the waterfalls would fall loudly unto the rivers. 

Everyone had left the palace a while ago, all your staff getting the day off as a result of the weather and the lack of meetings and businesses it brought. That had left you and the Duke to a quiet afternoon together; he found you there after his last meeting, when the weather made it impossible for his visitors to arrive - much to his dismay certainly -, and it was hard to resist joining you, sprawled on the largest couch in the living room. Now, with your legs across his lap, catching up on each of your readings, neither of you would dare move an inch.

Leto’s eyebrows were set deep in concentration as he went through one of the various papers placed in front of him, his strong profile always a sight worthy to admire. He held a glass of wine, resting comfortably in the hand that was not grazing over your thigh. 

“We should do this more often.” You break into the silence, easily speaking your thoughts to him. Leto turns to look at you after a beat, once a small smile had found its way into his face. He doesn’t say anything though, he only looks at you with a loving gaze. “What?”

His cheekbones peeked from under his beard when his smile grew “Nothing.” He replied calmly, still looking at you. “I agree.” He’s quick to turn back down to his reading, fingers still going up and down your leg.

But you knew him better than that, and with the way he was looking at you, you knew there was something else going on. “What are you thinking?”

“What do you mean?”

“There’s something on your mind.” He pretended to ignore you, smiling to himself while still trying to read his papers. With the rumble of thunder that filled the room, you realized what was really going on. You knew him well, well enough to read the signs his body showed: no furrowed eyebrows, no tense shoulders, instead his face had a warm smile and crinkles on the corners of his eyes. “You are enjoying this too much, aren’t you?”

Leto chose not to answer, instead trying to change the subject. “Would you look at that, the spice production in Arrakis is going up by-”

“Leto!” You laughed interrupting him, tossing your book to the side and crawling over to him. This relaxed, joking side of him was rare to show up. “You are relaxed, aren’t you?”

“Would that be too bad?” 

“Not at all, I like seeing you like this.” You straddle his legs sitting in front of him. Your fingertips trace his beard, and he lets his face rest over your hands.

The Duke leans to kiss you, slowly at first, not needing to rush anything, letting his hands move carefree over your back and your thighs. His lips after a while match the intensity of the thunder as they begin to trace over your skin, helping you to your back so he can hover on top of you. “What about like this?”

“Hmm, you’re being playful today even, my Duke.” He groans against your lips, but all you can do is giggle. “Can I arrange more days off?”

“Please do,” He commands, only pecking your lips. “The rest of the Empire can wait.”

Both of you would forget about it soon, you knew, but for now, you let yourself sink in his arms, with just the rain and his loving words enough to distract you from the rest of the world.

🍂🍂🍂🍂🍂🍂🍂🍂🍂🍂🍂🍂🍂🍂

Thanks for reading! Please reblog and comment if you enjoyed it!

#duke leto atreides x reader #duke leto atreides x you #duke leto x reader #duke leto atreides fic #duke letro atreides fluff #duke leto atreides fanfic #dune fanfiction #duke leto atreides blurb #duke leto atreides fanfiction #leto atreides x reader #leto atreides x you #leto atreides fanfiction

[nyrasproblm]

I'm not the only one - 4

Leto Atreides x reader, Paul Atreides x reader (platonic), Jessica Atreides x reader (platonic)

Word Count: 1,3K

Warning: Kinda angst, age difference, mention of drinking alcohol, arranged marriage, mention of infidelity (I think)

series masterlist | next chapter

Moving your toes uneasily, you continued your reading attentively, even forgetting to keep your back straight. Since the heated argument with Leto during the last dinner, you hadn't left your quarters, you preferred to stay quiet and away from the eyes of the duke's servants and men.

The only people you spoke to more often now were Raja and Dania, your servants, since they had to attend to you and were in your quarters almost always. You didn't give Jessica and Paul any opportunity to talk to you, even though you now actually had some duties as duchess.

Your duties as duchess were limited to speaking and taking charge of the governess and servants and answering some letters. The letters that did not contain very important matters, of course, you had to answer them and they were then taken to the duke to be analyzed and if they were satisfactory then they would be sent. Well, at least you kept busy.

Your plans to be mentat with Thufir Hawat were also put aside, you didn't want to get in the poor man's way and he didn't want to risk being discovered.

As the days went by you became more and more quiet, speaking only as necessary to your maids and nothing more. It felt good to keep your thoughts to yourself, like you did on your home planet. You hadn't spoken to Leto in a few days, but his words were still present in your mind, you still felt bad.

Sighing, you looked up and looked around the room, your rooms were fancy without a doubt. Everything was very symmetrical, the walls, the bed built on a small platform that rose a few inches off the floor, the thick rug on the floor. There were several elements that you liked about Arrakeen Palace: the neutral colors of the plain walls, the beautifully carved artwork on the walls, the way everything seemed to fit well into this environment. It gave a certain feeling of comfort, somehow.

You placed the book on the gray stone table and leaned back in the upholstered chair, before you could get up a knock was heard on the door.

"Come in."

You automatically broke into a wide smile when you saw that it was Thufir Hawat. Quickly standing up and approaching him in long strides, you wrapped the short man in a tight hug. He had the same friendly features as always.

"Thufir Hawat, good to see you again."

"I say the same, Duchess." He smiled, stretching his sappho-stained lips. "The Duke sent me here to summon you for today's council."

Your smile gradually faded and your face formed a confused expression.

"The counsil? But I've never participated before." you questioned.

"Apparently the Duke wants you to fully occupy your position as Duchess." he stated.

You were still unsure about leaving the safety of your quarters, but you knew you couldn't get away from it any longer.

"Well, to the council then.”

The council room wasn't that big, but it had a long dark stone table, with a few chairs arranged around it. Like the rest of the Palace, the room was symmetrical and minimalist, with few details, but it had a rectangular window that gave a view of the city outside on one of the walls.

Thufir guided you to a chair near the head and pulled it for you to sit down, you thanked him quietly and he walked around the table to sit facing you. You knew it was indiscreet to stare at people blatantly, so you turned your head slightly and quickly looked around the room. Sitting at the table were also Duncan Idaho, the master swordsman, Gurney Halleck, the warmaster, and a few other men you didn't know.

You turned your head when you heard the doors opening again, seeing Paul and Leto walk in together, exchanging soft smiles with each other. Everyone stood up formally and you did the same, waiting for the Duke's signal to sit down again.

A shiver came over you when you realized that Leto was going to sit at the end of the table, next to you. He walked over and signaled everyone to sit down again.

Your mental confusion increased with every minute of that meeting, Leto and his men talked about politics, the spice, the Fremen and relations with other great houses, but you had no opportunity to speak or give your opinion at any time. The time you wasted here could have been used to continue your duties or to read a book.

"Remain seated, I want to talk to you." Leto said in a low voice at the end of the meeting, when everyone else was leaving.

You remained sitting upright, chin slightly raised and features neutral as you waited patiently for you two to be alone. Leto turned to you, still sitting in the chair, and sighed. It was the first time since the wedding ceremony that you were so close to him, he seemed more tired now.

"I want to apologize to you most sincerely." he began in a calm voice. "I let my problems get bigger and took them out on alcohol, and consequently, on you."

Remaining silent, you chose to just nod, which gave him the opportunity to continue talking.

"Jessica advised me to try to make our coexistence more pleasant, for you and me. She said we should spend more time together, but I hope you understand that I don't have much free time." he continued.

Just as quickly as you cheered up, you withered again. He was apologizing because Jessica had told him to, he was telling you to spend more time together because Jessica had suggested it. You twisted your fingers under the table.

"Yes, sir, I understand that."

Leto nodded and cleared his throat.

"I hope we have dinner together tonight then.”

As much as Leto was willing to apologize to you and spend more time with you influenced by Lady Jessica, you were satisfied in a way, he now acted more leniently, even though he couldn't spend much time with you through occupations as duke.

You started leaving your quarters more and went back to seeing Paul and Lady Jessica, your relationship with both of them also improved, you sometimes welcomed Jessica into your rooms after dinner, she would comb your hair for you to sleep.

"I think you're getting along well with your husband now." she said cautiously as she ran the brush repeatedly through the length of your hair.

"I think so, he said he wants to make our relationship better for both of us." you replied as you kept your gaze on your hands resting in your lap.

She stopped brushing and you frowned, turning to her.

"Everything is fine?"

"Yes, yes, all right." She nodded and placed the brush on the dresser again. "I must go, good night, my dear."

Dinners with everyone present were also held again. Tonight everyone was around the table eating in silence, the atmosphere seemed strange so you preferred to remain silent.

You didn't exactly know the reason for the strange atmosphere, but Leto distanced himself again a few days ago, but not as much as before, so you also kept yourself busy with other things. Lady Jessica was acting strangely lately, she practically ran away from your presence, always ignoring you when you tried to call her to your quarters after dinner and other things.

Clearing your throat, you decided to break the silence.

"Paul, how's your training going?"

"It's going very well, but it's more difficult because of the heat." he smiled widely. "I've been to the desert a few times, to see the harvesters, I wanted you to go with me but mom says you're busy with your chores."

"I've been a little busy, yes, but I'd love to go with you sometime." you replied and the boy seemed to light up.

"That's great, I asked mom to go but the doctor said it's not recommended for her to expose herself to heat because of her pregnancy."

Your spine froze and you turned your head to the other two occupants of the table, seeing them as frozen as you were.

"Are you pregnant?" you ask in a low voice to Jessica.

#writing #dune fanfiction #writers on tumblr #fem reader #duke leto #duke leto atreides #duke leto x reader #leto atreides #leto atreides x reader angst #dune fanfic #paul atreides #jessica atreides

[skulkflower]

Rating: Explicit Ships: Feyd-Rautha x Eurydice Atreides (Original), Jessica x Leto Atreides, Paul Atreides x Chani Keynes Summary:

Eurydice Atreides’ first act of defiance took form as a direct challenge to her own mother. In defying her mother, Eurydice has secured the wills and desires of the Bene Gesserit; to be a key component in the rise of the Kwisatz Haderach. Not everything is as it seems. Eurydice stands at the center of a catastrophe that threatens to bring ruin to the delicate nature of the Imperium. There is her duty to her blood, to her twin brother Paul, and then there is her duty to the Bene Gesserit, and the nephew of a Baron she is sworn to. And all that resides in between, there are plans within plans.

AO3 LINK. updated weekly.

#dune fic #dune fanfic #feyd-rautha x original female character #feyd-rautha x oc #feyd rautha #my fics #feyd rautha fanfic #paul atreides #leto atreides #lady jessica

[melodygatesauthor]

Miscellaneous Characters

Masterlist

The Miscellaneous Characters Masterlist is for characters I have only written a very small amount for and don't intend to write for much more than I already have. - Some characters I haven't written for but intend to write for at some point and they are on this list because I don't know how much I'll write for them.

Revenant Masterlist (Apex Legends)

Duke Leto Atreides (Dune 2021)

Basil Stitt (Lightningface)

Laurent LeClaire - (In Secret)

Nathan Bateman Masterlist (Ex Machina) - Coming Soon

Rydal Keener Masterlist (The Two Faces of January) - Coming soon

Back to Main Masterlist

#apex revenant #revenant fanfic #revenant apex #apex legends revenant #revenant x reader #duke leto atreides #dune 2021 #dune movie #dune #leto atreides

[dystopian-reverie]

𝙇𝙤𝙫𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙈𝙖𝙧𝙘 𝙎𝙥𝙚𝙘𝙩𝙤𝙧 \\ 𝙈𝙤𝙤𝙣 𝙆𝙣𝙞𝙜𝙝𝙩

Title: Loving Marc Spector

Rating: Mature, dark romance and smut, 18+ Minors DNI!!

Content Warnings: gn!reader x Marc Spector, smut, mentions of p in v, rough oral (both of them receiving), knife play, dark romance, mentions and descriptions of blood, fluff, angst+comfort, alcohol consumption, borderline toxic relationship, choking, a freaky reader (it’s the whole package deal, baby ;)

Summary: Being Marc Spector’s lover wasn’t easy, but you would rather cease to exist than wish it was any other way.

A/n: Honestly, this is just a huge mess of a lifestyle fic that tried to encompass all the darkness and softness that came with dating Marc. I hope you enjoy it :) Oh, and I think this would be a much better read if you're listening to Lana Del Rey, The Neighbourhood, or The Arctic Monkeys.

Tag List: @jakelcckley @wowifinallymadeanaccount (just hmu if you want to be on my taglist)

It was unlike anything anyone would ever feel in their life.

Loving him was tiring. The way he would clam up the moment you seem to scratch through the surface of his high walls. He wanted you to see the pain and aching, wanted to show it all to you, strip himself bare, but being unable to. So he'd show that he loves you the only way he can- stripping you bare and taking you all to himself and making sure that you know you are his, and only his to take, drowning in the sound of you screaming his name.

Loving him was painful. He'd come back home, bloodied and scarred from another life-draining mission, and when asked why he didn't use his suit's healing power, he'd simply place the medical kit in your hands and drop down on the couch.

You'd feel his muscle tense underneath you, trying not to flinch, his grunts barely escaping his mouth as his fingers dug into the flesh of your thighs while you toiled away, fixing up his wounds.

"Why do this the hard way?" A question he's heard too many times, paired with those glistening eyes of yours.

"Simply because I can," He'd say, not in any hurry to rush the moment.

Loving him was scary. Eyes of a sinner, the same eyes that held so much potential for care and kindness, boring into you as he ruts into you, tearing cries after cries from your constricted throat. The tight grasp his fingers has over your neck never softens as he uses it as his leverage to make you do whatever he wanted at the moment.

Your legs draped over his shoulders, you'd get reminded quite harshly how Marc wasn't the one who showed mercy when you messed up with each and every thrust.

Loving Marc Spector was your face being raised to meet his, as his eyes, with carnal fascination, closely followed the tears streaming down your cheeks. It was taking in all the pride when he groans out how pretty you looked crying for him. It was not being able to tug on his hair when he closes the little space between you both to lick away the tears, littering kisses all over your face- a soft action while your entrance was being abused over and over, without a break.

It was his calloused thumb stroking your cheeks, spreading the wetness over your hot skin, as his tongue danced against the skin of your neck, leaving scars- a work of art.

Loving him was not knowing what was gonna happen next, a thrill down your spine every time he looks at you with those hooded eyes of his.

Loving him was living in a Lana Del Rey song, accompanied by The Neighbourhood constantly playing around you as the world gets drenched in a black and white filter when he lifts you up and spins you around in the middle of the night. The only time Marc worshipped the moon- when its glow illuminated your laughing face, capturing what he wished he could keep in his eyes forever. Your giggles muffled quickly as he brought you down to meet his lips, kissing you with a tenderness that he rarely showed.

Your fingers would play with his raven locks as your legs wrapped around his waist. He'd hold you up as you caressed him with a tenderness that he never knew.

You'd lose all sense of time looking into those eyes of his, shamelessly mesmerized and deep enough in love to admit you never want to look away.

Marc Spector melted away every bit of inhibition that was left in you, giving you something entirely new. Freedom. For the first time in your life, you felt free. You felt desired and wanted to get drunk in that feeling. You felt all the things that you taught yourself to stash away in a dark corner of your brain, all the things this world had asked you to not feel for that makes you weaker- you felt pretty, you felt beautiful, you felt fragile and yet so safe, you felt the entire cosmos thudding inside your ribcage as his eyes traveled all over your body, his hands following shortly behind.

He showed you a part of yourself that you thought wasn't possible to exist, but yet here you both were, confused beyond limit as to what you both were doing to each other's mind and body, but loving it nevertheless.

Loving him was finally knowing that this was an addiction, this love that you have for Marc Spector was your drug, and you weren't getting clean anytime soon.

A small bedroom, fit for two, only the walls and the bed as witnesses for all the things he did to you.

On some blessed nights, you and Marc would sway along to the music, a bottle of whiskey in one of his hands as his other guided you, and you both would tumble over each other, followed by your fits of slurry giggles.

"Open your mouth, baby," Marc would order, taking a swing from his bottle. You'd obey, as usual, like the good little doll he always said you were and feel the wetness of the alcohol being poured into your mouth, gulping it softly as it burned your throat.

Marc would catch that one drop that slid down your chin with the tip of his tongue and lick it all the way up to your mouth, soon engulfing both of you in a heated kiss, all tongue, and teeth.

Loving him hurts so good. When your knees ache from all the friction the floorboard was creating as your throat struggled to take all of him inside. He would hold your head still with a fistful of your hair in his grasp, fastening his pace as his cock moved in and out of your mouth. His filthy moans, praises, swears, and words would make it all worth it. Yet again, he'd slowly trace his finger over your cheeks as your tears adorned them, glistening. They were his rewards, a sight you knew he craved for.

On especially cruel afternoons, his eyes would narrow down on you, a dark shadow cast over them that made your skin tingle. He would be drenched in the smell of sweat and liquor, yet his stand was unwavering and on guard all the time. His lips turned up into a snarl as he contemplates how to sting you with his words again, his mind twisted as the alcohol continues to mess his head.

You'd try not to cry, not to yell at him, to maintain your composure at all times.

"Why do you make caring for you so hard, Marc?" Your voice would tremble, trying to keep together what was left of your sanity.

"If it's so damn hard, maybe you shouldn't be doing it in the first place," His words cut you up.

"Ever thought about it that way? Hmm?" He advanced toward you, the stench of alcohol clouding your senses. "Maybe you should pack it up and leave me to it because I don't seem to need you, do I?"

"You don't mean that," Your voice was no more than a whisper, trying to sound confident and restraining the doubt and sorrow seeping through.

He let out a breathy laugh. Tracing the outline of your face and tugging a strand of loose hair behind your ears, he lowered himself down to your face.

"Oh baby, how would a person stupid enough to stay with me know what I mean and what I don't," Even while gutting you through his words, his habit of playing with that single track of tear didn't change. He stroked your now tear-stained cheek as he studied you.

"What if every single 'I love you' I've ever told you was a lie?"

Everything inside you would snap all at once as you pushed him back and walked as fast as you could to the bathroom, locking the door swiftly and turning on the shower so it could drown out your sobs. You'd sink down to the floor, your head between your legs.

At times like these, you didn't know how many times you could remind yourself that this was his intrusive thoughts talking, not him. This was a product of his trauma, not the part of him that's working through it. But it still stings, it still hurts like someone was drowning your freshly wounded body inside the salt water.

It wasn't until late at night, that he'd crawl back home to you, with the weight of his words butchering him inside.

He'd find you curled up on the couch, passed out from exhaustion. Stirring from your sleep, you'd be met with a man on the verge of breaking down in front of you. Propping yourself up groggily, you'd see him through your puffy eyes.

"Marc?"

His face would contort in pain, as he fell to his knees beside you, making you fully sit up. Tears would cloud his eyes as he looked down to hide them from you, but not having much control of them.

"Baby, I am so-" His words would get caught in his throat as a sob threatens its way out of him. Apologising wasn't Marc's best area.

A few seconds would pause with neither of you saying anything. You'd see the man crouching in front of you, probably in more pain than most people can imagine.

"Please don't hate yourself," You whispered, ripping away a sob from him.

He looked up at you with bloodshot eyes. "Baby I didn't mean a single word I said," He shook his head, crawling closer to you, afraid touching you anywhere was more than what he deserved.

"It's just, sometimes, my mind, it forces me to think stuff like that, and I was drunk, I couldn't think clearly and I got the darkness to get the better of me. I didn't mean any of that,"

He would go on for minutes together, trying to make you understand how none of that was supposed to happen and how sometimes his mind tries to get rid of anything that gives him happiness.

With a promise of working through it together and both of you patching up each other through words of kindness and assurance, you and Marc would pass out on the couch, holding each other close with a newfound hope that one day, everything would be fine and neither of you would have to get hurt like that again.

Caring for him was exhaustive. But you did it anyway, and you'd do it over and over and over. There were things about each other that neither of you understood. You'd often feel his curious eyes follow you wherever you went, and when you finally looked at him with raised eyebrows and asked him what was wrong, you'd always be met with the same question or other variations of it.

"Why do you even put up with me?"

"I love you, and I find that love worth enough to be with you through everything- the good and the bad" You'd smile simply, not understanding the waves of storms crashing against that man's heart.

Marc Spector was not a man used to feeling loved, you knew that, and you were going to do everything in your power to change that.

Loving him was corrupting you. Venturing into the darkest and deepest parts of yourself was something you prohibited yourself from doing, but when Marc came into your life, all of that changed.

All of your wildest fantasies and desires ran wild whenever he was in your vicinity, and he'd always know. His lips curling into a smirk, he'd wait you out, trying not to make the first move and he sees you through his side vision as you try to not get lost in your thoughts, blushing and trying desperately to ground yourself.

Realizing that his hypersexuality was slowly seeping into your character was terrifying at first, always thinking about taking him all to yourself as you both devour each other whenever you so much as looked at him leaning against the wall. But as time went on, you both decided to temporarily push away the problematic part of hypersexuality and indulge in all the pleasure it offered.

His hands would be snaking behind your waist in no time as both of you crashed into each other within moments of prolonged eye contact. A hundred different ways to explore and push each other's limits, to bring one another to the brink of life and beyond.

Straddling his thighs, grinding against his bulge as his fingers brush over your lips, watching his eyes slowly but hungrily grazing over all of you- everything about the two of you was more than intoxicating.

There was something so incredibly poetic about this love, something so tragic and erotic, so strong and alluring that even thinking about getting out of this burned you from inside.

At times, things that shouldn't happen, according to Marc, do happen, such as you getting stuck in the crossfire in one of his missions.

It was during moments like those you get to see Marc's feral rage that didn't spare anyone who went against him. He wouldn't just 'knock them over', he'd hurt them, bad. And as much as you knew that shouldn't invoke any emotion other than fear, you couldn't help but get enticed by watching that.

He'd be covered in blood, a little bit of his own, and a lot of his enemies, by the time he's done with them, he'd turn around to look back at you, looking at him with something that was not fear. Then it struck him- you weren't as innocent as he initially thought you were. And boy did it rile him up.

Dragging you into a dark alley where there was no chance of anyone getting a glimpse of all the sinful things about to happen, he takes his time studying you to see how this part of him made you react.

He'd bring his hand in front of your face; fresh, gleaming blood on his fingers, lingering inches away from your skin. Your breath hitched on your windpipe as he stroked his thumb against your cheek, smearing the thick liquid on you. The metallic scent, adding on to everything that was going on, was overwhelming your senses.

"Marc," You moaned as he cupped your face, getting all the blood on you. You brought your hand to his own face, tracing all the blood smears, some even from his own wounds.

Pulling him closer to you, you brought your lips near his cheeks, hovering just above them. You could feel his breath, hot and uneven on your neck, adding to the heat gathering down under you.

It was a small peck on his cheek at first, as his hands traveled down your sides, grabbing you tighter and getting blood all over your dress. Then you kissed him all over his face, licking and sucking under his jawline, feeling them clench and release as he basked in a sinister glory.

He knew he damn well shouldn’t do what he was about to, but seeing you dancing on the edge of a darkness so engulfing, his fingers fished out a pocket knife. As soon as you caught up to what he was doing, your heart beat sped up, pounding against your chest, anticipation burning in the pit of your stomach as to what he was going to do.

It wasn’t long before you felt the cold press of the metal against your cheek, grazing ever so lightly as he traced it across your features, watching you intently as he did so.

You didn’t know what has gotten into you, everything was spinning and spiralling down, and all you could think of was Marc and all the malicious things he was doing to you.

Ever so slowly, you opened your mouth and stuck out your tongue, earning a raised eyebrow from him, followed by a dark chuckle that turned your insides upside down. The silver, shining in the dark, brushed ever so softly against your lips before meeting your tongue. A swift and tender lick to the metal was all it took for Marc to finally snap, something dangerous and disturbing awakening inside him.

He withdrew the blade from your mouth and held it against your neck, forcing you to arch your head back. Beautiful. This was all so wrong. Both of you knew you should stop this, but never did. Marc proceeded to fuck you raw, his one hand gripping your thigh that was wrapped around his hips, and the other one holding the knife in its place.

This damned side of him, one that he swore he would never reveal to anyone, let alone the love of his life, was finally being seen, scratch that, was being engulfed wholly, and he loved it. He loved every fucking second of it. He was never letting you go. Never.

Loving him was handing over your trust and power. This was something you and Marc both had problems with at the beginning. Neither of you was used to trusting people so completely that your mind could just finally calm down and rest for some time.

The compulsive urge to be in control of every situation was what brought you two together in the first place, driving you insane. And before you knew it, you both took the battle to the bed, trying to get control of each other.

Your arms would be bruised with the way he gripped you, holding you back from toppling him to his side as you tried to take the upper hand.

Your nails had dug deep into his toned frame, dragging them down and earning a deep growl that invoked something filthy in you.

It took some time for both of you to trust each other with your vulnerability, to finally succumb to the desire to be taken apart completely and put back together.

The first time Marc ever handed his power over to you- a day you'd never forget. Tears pooled in his eyes as he shut them tight, drowning in the pleasure of being taken care of for once. Shaky breaths and sweaty bodies, your moans, and whispers of assurance, praising him and spilling love everywhere as you rode him.

Your fingers moved in and out of his mouth as he tried to keep his wide eyes trained on you, but he couldn't stop them from rolling back at times- such a pretty sight. All hinted to him that maybe, just maybe, this was the part of his life where he can finally unwind.

He trusted you, and that single realization brought about unfamiliar waves of emotions crashing around him.

Loving him was adrenaline coursing through your veins. Marc was a dangerous man, and at times when life seemed to be sunshine and daisies with his adorable alter, you seem to forget that.

The split second in which he can grab a gun and change the course of the fight, his eyes trained on his target like a hawk as his mind contemplated about a hundred different ways to end this.

Loving him was rushing to the getaway car and starting the vehicle for him to slide beside you hastily as your both drove away from danger, hearts pounding and all your senses heightened. Marc would always be on extra edge when you were with him because he'd raise hell if anything happens to you. Having you with him didn't help him on his missions at all, but when you were dragged into the middle of all this, he had no choice but to do this with you.

Surprisingly, it didn't take a heavy toll on you, like how he'd expected. But what did he know? After all, you did fuck him like a filthy slut in a back alley, both of you covered in blood and sweat, with a goddamn knife to your throat.

Loving him meant getting pushed against the wall, having your chin grabbed harshly, making you look up at him as he scolds you, asking you to be more careful and smarter.

The wild, wild glare of his set on the guy who tried to harm you as he proceeded to beat him to half death, stopped only because you stepped in. Eyes and actions of a maniac as soon as he felt like his girl was in danger.

He’d grab your wrists a bit too tight as he checked you for wounds, making sure you were alright in his own ways, despite you reassuring him several times.

You could see the single vessel pulsating on his forehead, all the veins on his arms popping out, glistening from the sweat. His wet hair clung to his forehead as he'd look around, making sure you were alone before giving you a proper punishment for worrying him like that.

You knew you'd follow this man to the end of the Earth, that was the kind of chokehold he had over you. This love was no joke.

Loving him was discovering the soft pleasures. Being Marc Spector's girlfriend, it was rare for you to find a dull moment, and that's why they were so precious for both you and Marc.

Lazy afternoons with both of you doing absolutely nothing but wasting away time, laying on the bed, talking about this and that- the kind of peace and calm Marc had never even dared to wish for.

You'd both buy random things for each other while coming back home, from ice creams to flowers, from fridge magnets to donuts, from a hardcover special edition book that you've been eyeing for weeks to a thin bracelet, or a small pendant to add to that pretty chain of his.

You never let yourself dream about love, for fear of what would happen if you never get to feel that in real life. But you felt it, warm and fuzzy, like a blanket covering you from head to toe in a warm embrace. When Marc massaged your back to release those tension, it mostly lead to both of you fucking on the mattress, slow and deep, pressing every inch of each other's body as the ache oozed away.

Everything was so raw with Marc. From fucking to loving. So unfiltered to the point you were sure that this is what your life was meant to be. When the soft moments come around, you hold on to them, cherishing them forever.

Loving him was poetic. Marc was never a man of words. He was not as smooth as Jake or as heart-melting as Steven, he knew that. He'd look at you, sleeping peacefully beside him, safe in his warm embrace and his heart would ache with all the love that he has for you, but can't get you to see it.

On one of those incredibly frustrating times, he'd finally found his voice. Grabbing your waist and earning a light gasp from you as he interrupted your chore, he held your face so that you couldn't look at anything but him.

For some time, he did nothing but hold you close, taking all of you in; your face, your soft hands perched over his shoulders, his hands perfectly sitting on the curve of your waist, your scent, your hair framing your face.

"I was just a shell of a man who didn't know if I wanted to live or die when I first met you," He said. This was so out of character for him, he realized, as he watched your eyebrows furrow.

He placed his finger on your lips as you opened your mouth to say something.

"Listen to me, baby. But now, you make me want to burn down this whole world if it means I could live with you,"

Too stunned to speak, you let his words sink in as a smile dawned on your face. Marc was only ever used to getting you flustered by his actions, through sex and touch. But now, seeing a bright red bloom on your cheeks, all because he finally decided to let you know how he felt, he tasted paradise.

"You scare me. Your love, this love, scares me," He said. "But the heaven be damned if I'd ever leave you." Placing his forehead on yours, he was only hoping that he wasn't being too cheesy and scaring you away. But all of that nervousness melted away as you flung your arms around him, collecting him in a warm embrace, one that warmed both of your souls and body.

He was poetry. Everything about him was pure, enthralling, poetry. The way the morning light would hit his face and his bare body was the first thing you saw every day you woke up made your heart full.

Holding his palm in yours as he finally opened up to you, a strong feat that even he didn't know was possible- poetry.

The way his smile adorned his face, his eye crinkles appearing more profound as a genuine laugh would encase you in a warm bubble, a melody to your ears- poetry.

The way he was in the middle of getting the fourth orgasm out of you that night, with his fingers and tongues working miracles on you as you lay there, a sobbing, sweating, and panting mess under him, basking in his praises and commands- poetry.

Marc Spector was the love of your life. There was so much love to give, and so much to take. This love was how you started living, and this love was going to be the death of you. There is only Love & Lust and Love & Lust and Love & Lust...

#moon knight #moon knight fanfic #moon knight fanfiction #moon knight smut #moon knight x reader #moon knight imagines #moon knight fluff #marc spector #steven grant #jake lockley #marc spector x reader #oscar isaac #oscar isaac x reader #nathan bateman #jonathan levy #poe dameron #leto atreides

[panphilosopher]

(Mind the grammar, this is a rough draft. It will be 75% readable once I edit it)

I'm working on the second chapter of my betrothed au fic and wanted you guys to read this part because hilarious and I need praise. It a shame Villeneuve didn't film Paul or Jessica spitting in this part.

I also realized I made a mistake for Transfem! Paul: she supposed be titled as 'princess', not 'lady'.

(I have already given transfem!Paul a name, I just don't want to spoil it).

#dune #dune movie #chani kynes #paul atreides #transfem paul #leto atreides #duke leto #lady jessica #duncan idaho #liet kynes #paulchani #Dune and Sea #wlw #sapphic #transgender #Betrothed AU #fanfic #fic #paul x chani #chani x paul #writing

[bits-and-babs]

☁️ - 11. “Pay attention to me or I’ll make you” with Duke Leto please!!

“𝐏𝐚𝐲 𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐞, 𝐨𝐫 𝐈’𝐥𝐥 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮.”

pairing: Duke Leto Atreides x f!Reader

warnings: Mean Leto (I fancied trying something new with him) intense and uneven power dynamic, mentions of canon-typical age gap enforced marriage, rough oral sex (m receiving), hair pulling, head-pushing, degradation.

leto masterlist I| main masterlist |I follower celebration I| ask |I

Your eyes settle on the glow-globe that floats in the corner of the room. The iridescent surface of the floating sphere capture your attention, dragging your mind away from your enforced lesson on Caladanian history like a child distracted by candy.

In honesty, anything was better than being subject to lessons like this.

Grooming you to be Paul Atreides’ wife when he came of age was a harder task than you were sure Duke Leto Atreides had imagined it would be. First, you were significantly older than the boy- your interests were not aligned. Secondly, Paul Atreides certainly was not your suitor of choice.

“Pay attention to me,” Leto’s voice booms through the makeshift classroom that had been set up in the small office. It makes you startle in your seat, his frustrated tone ricocheting off the stone walls of the palace.

The Duke crosses the floor of the classroom with a grace unbefitting of his anger. He’s poised, a frustration laced in his brow.

“Pay attention to me,” he repeats, the eyes settling on your lips almost obsidian when he unhooks his belt. You pause, heart leaping in your chest as you watch him palm himself through his fitted trousers. His stark expression stays, desire glinting in the pitch black orbs. “Or I will make you.”

He shoves his cock down your throat. Makes you choke on it. You swallow him down but there is so much of him, and Leto pulls you off him with his fingers in your hair. Your scalp aches, throat raw, but he forces you to keep your eyes on his face, punishing you by pushing your head down onto his length if your attention strays.

“Such a disobedient student,” he muses, his regal voice almost demeaning in its derisive tone as he swipes away the drool running down your chin, “Now, where was I? Vorian Atreides met Leronica when he visited Caladan…”

No. Paul was not your choice of suitor, at all.

#leto atreides #duke leto atreides smut #leto atreides smut #leto atreides x you #duke leto atreides x you #leto atreides x reader #duke leto atreides x reader #duke leto atreides #duke leto x you #duke leto x reader #dune fanfiction #dune film #dune smut #dune fanfic #oscar isaac #oscar isaac x reader #oscar isaac smut #oscar isaac fanfic #જ⁀➴ mail: received #✩‧₊˚ 6k follower celebration ˚₊‧✩