#terrible trigger discipline

[softlyivy]

in luvv with thm....

#sam and max #freelance husbands #sam & max #freelance police #samandmax #max #sam #terrible trigger discipline

[gearbroth]

kiss me I’m seeing red

#tf2 #team fortress 2 #engiespy #tf2 spy #tf2 engineer #engineer x spy #practical espionage #napoleon complex #myart #engie is practicing the WORST trigger discipline #he's gonna accidently fire that gun off and destroy both their hearing #gonna go to medic and he's gonna be like how did you BOTH manage to lose your hearing and theyre gonna be like what #pardon the terrible bg btw i didnt wanna make a bg fdkjghsdf

[angelsfuzzyslippers]

Some fan art for the fanfic "At the End of Extinction" (by The_Bad_Samaritan (98tuffluv))! It's a zombie apocalypse human AU that I absolutely adore! Husk and Angel whisking a little Charlie across a post-apocalyptic US to reunite her with her parents - with threats lurking around every corner >:3 (I know the designs I went with don't align with the author doodles in the most recent chapter shhhhhhhhh I don't have time to redraw this)

#can you tell I've never drawn a gun before #angel has terrible trigger discipline in this art oops #even in an apocalypse angel is gonna look cute 😌 #this fic warmed me up to human AUs #they weren't really my cup of tea but this one is so good #it made me more open to others #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel fanart #huskerdust #hazbin hotel angel dust #hazbin hotel husk #hazbin hotel charlie

[sinizade]

Qih'Za, The Demon Slayer

Class: Paladin fighter (Oath breaker)

Romance: Gale (no god Gale, only normal nerd Gale)

Besties: Lae'Zel / Karlach

Qih'Za was the last egg to hatch in her Creche which made some of the other older Githyanki think that she would be a weak child among the others, but they ended up very mistaken as ever since she was able to hold a sword for the first time, she has always shown a clear mastery of whatever battle or training she was in. The problem that always resulted in severe punishment for Qih' Za was her curiosity... Training outside her Creche, field missions, she always left the training of the youngest to find out what was more beyond what her eyes could see and this always caused irritation in the elders, her lack of obedience and discipline were irritating in their eyes.

During her teenage years, she was the proudest point of her Creche, the first Githyanki to kill a demon with her own hands. One of the Githyanki from their Creche was using his magic to try and summon little imps to use in combat and something went terribly wrong causing a flesh and blood demon to appear right in the middle of them killing and beheading everyone in sight no matter if they were children or teenagers. Qih'Za was quick, brutal, almost animalistic against that demon, cutting off its horns, wings, tail, she was hateful and dangerous, almost no longer controlling her body and it was from that day on that she became known as the Demon Slayer, but what was a source of pride and admiration for her Creche and other Githyanki outside of it, for Qih' Za it was a trigger for some kind of disorder in her mind, seeing all these children, seeing her friends and teachers get killed in such a brutal way caused her to have small tantrums throughout her life whenever she was in combat, useful against enemies, but she lost control and always ended up attacking allies and her superiors ignored this due to her usefulness in battle, which always left her with the blood of her brothers and sisters on her hands and even more trouble on her mind.

Against her will she became a dragon rider, it was a "gift" offered by the best and most honorable warrior in her Creche and she shouldn't dare refuse. Receiving her dragon seemed to bring her more comfort... It was strange at first, but she created a great bond with her dragon, her friend, her glorious Agynih. Her first battle with her dragon was something that would never leave her mind... Seeing her dragon, her friend being killed by an Ilith ship, having her body absorbed into that incubator against her will... She just wanted to get out of there, she needed to get out of there.

Even though she didn't have much attachment to magic and even a certain fear due to her trauma, the way Gale showed it seemed to be less scary and more "simple", even beautiful in her view, he was a good teacher, a very intelligent human, there were few big noses that Qih'Za met who actually managed to have her admiration and Gale aroused both admiration and attraction. Even though he wasn't very strong, he made up for it with his mind and spells, he was fast and lethal, his body was firm and concentrated that seemed to flex with each glow that came from his hands and staff. Qih'Za wanted to try him, not just that, she wanted to devour Gale completely, feel his skin against hers and submit him to her.

She stayed with Gale and traveled with him to Water Deep... Even though her mind told her to go with Lae' Zel to fight for the freedom of her people and fight to spread the words of her prince Orpheus, that was no longer life for Qih' Za and now her heart is with Gale... She had been through so much, felt so much... She knew well that Lae'Zel was more than capable of such a mission, that she would free her people and become a legend among all Githyanki. Her companion, her friand and her sister

Some extra information about Qih' Za

She's love chocolate ever since she stole one from a big nose she found sleeping near her Creche, so now that she's trying to find a way to get this parasite out of her mind, she always tries her best to find a few more chocolates.

She's afraid of Raphael and Mizora... Not just ordinary fear, but something that makes her vision blur to the point where she almost loses control of her body again.

She hasn't had a good night's sleep since she found out about Astarion... He wasn't trustworthy, he didn't seem trustworthy and he didn't even talk like someone trustworthy, if he hadn't been so helpful with locks she would have already ripped his head off.

She wanted to taste Wyll when she first saw him, a strong and brave human, strong body almost as if waiting to be touched, but finding out about Mizora made her hateful about him.

#githyanki #Qih'Za #gale of waterdeep #gale dekarios #bg3 gale #gale x tav #baldurs gate gale #baldurs gate #baldurs gate 3 #baldur's gate 3 #baldur's gate iii #baldurs gate fanart #baldurs gate tav #drawing #drawings #characterdesign #draw #sketch #digital drawing #character #drawn #sketchbook #Qui'Za

[amaranthine-enihtnarama]

Is This Desire? (Feyd Rautha x reader)

u know I had to tap in 🤭. reader is a noblewoman who has undergone bene gesserit training, there IS smut, there IS sexual tension, there ARE mind games, there IS dubcon (but not really 😉); quote found on Pinterest. None of the media besides the writing belongs to me, including quotes used at the beginning.

Happy Sunday 🤭 finally made it. Strong trigger warning for people sensitive to dub-con situations. There is a significant push and pull dynamic, be mindful of your peace.

Feyd Rautha Harkonnen and Tii Sanura Sur-Kar have been lifelong friends since the day they were betrothed as children—-a mutual coldness in the eyes inspired respect and appreciation between the two kindred spirits. On the day of the na-Baron’s coming of age, however, simmering tensions between the pair rise to an all-consuming firestorm as the young Baron attempts to finally act on the desires he has harbored for her, but there is a significant challenge: how he can manage to break past her impenetrable composure; the dispassionate mask of his treasured Bene Gesserit master?

the lovers.

“Love is an ancient force, one that served in its day but is no longer essential for the survival of the species.” -Bene Gesserit Axiom

***

“Do you truly think you could redeem such a beast?”

She smiled. “I know, I am allowing my affections cloud my judgment. But allow me an opportunity before his fate is sealed, Reverend Mother.”

The older woman stared her down through the sheer fabric cloaking her face. “You are a very sharp mind, but your youth may sway you against wiser judgment.”

The young sister smiled. “I will not lose sight of our mission, do not worry. I only wish to test a hypothesis.”

“Be wary of overextending yourself.”

“I would not shame you with such folly. I have no intention of losing control.”

After this, the Reverend Mother Superior was silent, ending the discussion. The Duchess rose, gave a respectful incline of her head, and departed.

No, she would not lose control. They had come much, much too far.

It was simply a mere experiment—-too much risk, and she would end it without hesitation.

She only hoped she wouldn’t have to.

***

Tii Sanura Sur-Kar ran through the subconscious of the na-Baron like a mantra. A dangerous liability, he knew, but considering it was the name of his bride, it was an indulgence he willingly succumbed to at every turn. It was like song, like poetry to him, neither of which he cared for terribly but she adored—if she was truly capable of such a feeling. His betrothed was a shrewd, charming woman. Never terribly moved nor affected, never troubled nor wanting. It hadn’t always been that way, but once she underwent her Bene Gesserit training, the risk-taking, jubilant playmate he knew as a child became a confounding and mysterious woman as the years passed. He was vexed by it initially; her disinterest towards what had once thrilled her, her fixation on scriptures and disciplines, her strangely hypnotic eyes, but he managed to adjust over time. After all, she was a noblewoman with duties and ambitions of her own, not a pet.

Still, she was his. The knowledge that she could not slip through his fingers sated his dissatisfaction with her frigidity. As the years passed, he managed to learn her ways. He was the only one who elicited a smile from her pursed, pillowy lips. He was the only one who could freely request her presence and, eventually, he was the only one—in the whole of the empire, he suspected—that could see the brief cracks in her sagelike mask. He experimented with the pressure points he could catch glimpses of. There was some satisfaction in pulling out the things she was so resolute to conceal from the world around them, to rouse moments of amusement, surprise (a rarity), or, his favorite, timidity.

He lost out on the last one a couple years ago, though, when he had pushed too far during a sparring match, and she surrendered too freely. Her eyes miraculously sparked with the horror of an uncontrollable and unexpected emotion. He felt it for a moment then—the way he could ignite her desire, the way she softened all over beneath his strength. The warmth of her breath, the softness of her skin; he had gotten a taste of it and had needed more ever since.

Thoughts for another time.

Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen knew how badly his future bride desired him. And vice-versa. It made Tii Sanura retreat as they grew older: more distance, more sarcastic jabs and intellectual pretensions. She knew him well enough to do exactly what would make him tick, to repel the low hum of want that had grown strong enough to overwhelm any other potential experiences they could’ve shared. There had been a time where they had come to an agreement of tentative friendship, but those days were burned to ash under the heat that dared to surface whenever the two were together.

The closer they got to coming of age the more her visits changed. She took longer to come by, and when she was there, she was terse with him if he could get her to speak. In all fairness, though, they did have chaperones since the sparring mishap. She was undoubtedly being discreet about whatever she felt about him, but he knew that despite all the suitors that attempted to sweep her away from him, he had secured her interest. Only he could tell, as difficult a riddle it was to continuously decode. The difficulty became less infuriating as he slowly understood the game being played—he kept testing her resolve and she kept coming back to prove it. The satisfaction he got from poking at her weaknesses barely rivaled hers from besting them. It was almost heartwarming if either of them possessed such a silly thing: he was still her favorite sparring partner.

Tii Sanura had not visited in this year, and it was an important one. The time of his coming of age and hers, the time of their union. He anticipated her usual distance, but not total silence. He tried to distract himself from the unpleasant feeling it caused but there was no cure on Geidi Prime to salve the absence of her silvery voice and sweet perfumes. His pets sufficed for more immediate needs, but there was no comparison. It troubled and fascinated him, the attachment he had to her. He would’ve rid himself of it if not for the fact she still sent him letters, and the fact she could not truly discard him like the rest fueled his want, his need, his hunger to claim his prize. His woman; his wife.

He would not show mercy on this day.

It was all that was truly on his mind as the slave women did their painting on his torso and he inspected his new blades. She would be there, she would be watching him in the arena, and she would be with him tonight afterward. Feyd intended to make the most of such ripe opportunities.

The games were amusing enough, but it was time for them to end. He had spent months envisioning it, the way he would finally best her, conquer her. The anticipation set his teeth on edge so badly it took all of his willpower to not run through slaves and servants like tissue paper. He would not lose his cool, he would adopt the discipline of his beloved, he told himself. He would not imagine ravaging her powerful, lithe frame, bruising her soft brown flesh, envisioning the pain and ecstasy he would conjure upon her unmoved, delicate face. He wouldn’t lose himself. He wouldn’t.

Not if he was going to finally make her do the same.

***

Tii Sanura was bored, as always. She was always amazed by how stupid everyone had to be to not tell the woman she presented them was a fiction. Did they not find her razor-sharp mind the slightest bit incongruent with the mask of a young noblewoman dutifully awaiting her marriage, tastefully enthused to kindly engage with anybody, who always had the perfect compliment and the most ego-stroking remark? Did they not see the void behind the artificial warmth in her gaze? Did they truly think every braindead comment they made amused her?

Of course not, save for a few pitiful monkeys, but the desire to believe the myth and participate bored her all the same. She had forced it into a microscopic container by now, but part of her still longed for the days of swimming naked in the swelling river during the rainy springs in Daquan, riding horses, hours of archery and combat training, studying the history of her ancestors, dressing up in her mother’s priceless gowns and traversing across the oasis-laden desert that surrounded their palace, much to her always gratifying horror. Oh, the tragedies of womanhood.

She was almost perfect. Almost. It made her want to dig her nails into her palms with frustration. The only source of weakness that remained was her betrothed. No matter how she wanted to or tried, the memories, her favoring of him would not fade away like the rest of her old emotions. She could not stay away no matter how much it infuriated her, humiliated her to her sisters. The little machine and her crush, they would tease her. It made her want to smear the walls and floors with their blood, the sounds of their smug tones and the superior air they held around her. It made her furious with her parents for not keeping her and Feyd separate in their youth. Now she had a soft spot in her armor, and the worst part is how he knew.

He provoked her, the bastard. He studied her every time they were together to the point where her only solution was to stop visiting so much. The only company in the galaxy she could stand was now her greatest vex. Just her luck.

The roaring of the crowd in the arena was deafening to her. She hated it, the sounds of fools cheering for their annual performance, for their na-Baron’s holy birthday. She could only imagine how small the Harkonnens’ subjects’ brains had to be to think God was anywhere near this place.

Despite the charade of his arena performance, it wasn’t a detractor from her future husband’s proficiency in combat. His strength was obvious, from the gradual sophistication of his movements, the calculation of his ink black stare…the way his body sculpted overtime to…distressing perfection. Weary of her sisters sensing where her thoughts wandered, she dismissed the thoughts as quickly as they came, calmly raising her binoculars to get a better view of the arena.

There was no relief: he was walking out into the center.

The cheers grew so loud they hurt her ears. Her body became rigid as she watched how he stalked onto the arena, claiming the praise and attention so readily offered to him. She spied the strength of his taut arms, his hands that held those blades of his with such natural finesse. He was a perfected killer, through and through. She stifled the sensation that dared to conjure in her stomach with a hint of spite. He was well enough in comparison to a Harkonnen, but he had room for improvement, she thought to herself, cooling down. But then, he did the absolutely unthinkable.

Her mouth dried as his head smoothly turned to look up at her and her Bene Gesserit sisters, blue eyes daring to twinkle something disastrously humiliating as they somehow fixed onto her from an impossible distance. He smiled and kissed one of his blades in gesture to her, then turned his attention to his uncle, bowing deferentially. It pleased the crowd greatly, and Tii Sanura wondered if these arena visits would one day fully strip her hearing abilities away as sisters chattered amongst themselves with a flat amusement Tii Sanura could not stand, but kept from feeling resentment towards. Such a small attempt to ruffle her golden feathers would not succeed. She watched on, her blood pressure stabilizing from its slight disturbance.

The bastard. He never bored her.

The pageant went on routinely enough; two hulking, delirious men stumbled out into the arena—the last of the House of Atreides. The name made the base of her spine tingle inexplicably. Perhaps it is her weakness of favor creeping up again, she would wonder; the thought of her childhood friend, his parents, Duncan Idaho and Gurney Haleck swept away in a harrowing night of fire and blood made her blood chill slightly. Perhaps it was the fragility of power in such a bloodthirsty imperial court; it often haunted her these days, knowing that the lives of her parents, her younger brothers, her ladies in waiting, herself, hung in such a precarious and delicate balance. Knowing the treachery of her near Uncle-in-law. The guarantees of disaster from moments of weakness. All the more reason to be perfect. One slip up, one ignorant action, and she could lose control of the game she was playing.

Still, those weren’t the answers, she knew that. It was something deeper. Something much more primal, animal. Like rats would escape pirate ships in those faraway ancient years. It felt wrong in a real way. But she didn’t let this trouble hover over her long. Only at night, in bed, did she contemplate the tension within her body. She knew it was not fear, so what was it? Perhaps if she could feel more she would know.

The arena’s cheers spiked in volume and Tii Sanura blinked, returning to what was conspiring beneath her. Feyd made easy work of the two drugged men, much to the delight of the ravenous crowds, but one still stood. And she meant that, too—he was standing. He was upright, alert and sharp. Her spine straightened in interest. Finally. Something interesting.

The two men squabbled briefly until Feyd realized the situation his uncle had placed him in. To anyone but Tii Sanura’s surprise and thrill, he removed his shield with a beaming expression. Her skin prickled slightly at the memory the motion conjured. When she came too close—much, much too close. It is agreeable for a Bene Gesserit to be able care for her partner, but what she felt that day was intolerable. The heavy burden of it on her sweat-slick chest, skin glistening with sweat and a few smears of blood, their muscles contracting and rippling as they fought each other with a heat that didn’t come from competition or bloodlust. Desire.

The word made her think of shuddering. There could be nothing more shameful, certainly. Especially for her kind—excellence was the only option, mastery was her only aim—her mother would have thought her a braindead whore if she had seen her that day. It almost made her think of feeling ashamed, but she only felt disgusted at her own laziness. It would never happen again.

Another swell of cheers. Tii Sanura left her mind again and focused on the battle beneath her—Feyd Rautha was at the mercy of his opponent’s blade, the point staring him directly in his eyes. She knew that he could only be laughing, and just to prove her point his blackened smile bloomed across his face. The man struggled against Feyd Rautha’a grip on the blade, trying to deal the finishing blow, but Tii Sanura knew her betrothed was well-equipped to handle such a minor threat. This was mere play to him. In an instant he had turned the blade onto the final member of House Atreides, sinking it into his chest.

She held back the sensation she felt watching it, the blade piercing her, imagining the heat of Feyd Rautha’s enthralling stare as he watched the life fade from his opponent. The man crumbled, and Feyd dropped him to the ground. He turned to his audience, raising his blade in victory. More roaring, almost like the oceans of Caladan themselves. She could hear their roaring. She could hear their ghosts.

He met her eyes again. She remained unfazed as she held it. He smiled slowly; it was not the same one as before. She knew that look, when she would politely excuse herself when he was getting a bit too touchy with one of his concubines—pets, he’d call them—and the air sparked with carnal heat.

Hunger. He was hungry. And he wasn’t looking anywhere else but her.

The sister closest to her jested softly. “It seems your betrothed is ready for you, Duchess Sanura.”

“He always looks like a dog in heat,” she cooly remarked, “There is no need to jump to such conclusions.”

Another one spoke again, Lady Margot Fenring, one she preferred out of her sisters, aside from the Reverend Mother Superior herself. She smiled bemusedly, eyeing her with a knowing that made Tii Sanura simultaneously relieved and discomforted.

“I hope you brought something for him to feast on, Duchess Sanura, if you do not want to be the one he devours.”

She allowed herself a bemused chuckle. “A fair assessment, I admit…”

She rose from her seat, undaunted by his dark stare. She slowly cocked her head, a small smirk quirking the corner of her mouth upright, forming a familiar wrinkle in her cheek and exposing her dimples. The arena roared with cheers at the interaction.

“I can assure you; he’s not the only rabid dog I’ve tamed. There will be no devouring.”

“You speak with the confidence of a girl, sister,” she warned.

The Duchess’s smile twitched into something genuine as she turned to look at her.

“He is a mere boy, sister. I have faced much worse than Feyd Rautha Harkonnen.”

“Worse,” Lady Fenring remarked quietly, “I will must admit, the thought of worse troubles one deeply.”

A soft laugh left Tii Sanura’s lips like a breath. “Wise words, I cannot disagree.”

She turned back to the arena. Feyd was gone, with only bodies and pandemonium left in his wake.

He certainly never bored her.

***

They never strayed from their ritual, no matter how much time had passed. Feyd-Rautha waited patiently in his betrothed’s quarters, eyeing the golden box sat in the center of her bed from a seat in the corner of the room.

She was taking a bit long.

He tapped his fingers against the metal armrest with some annoyance but he would keep his cool; she wasn’t going to toy with him this time. His mind wandered to the events of the arena—her icy smirk, her leisurely movements. The people of Daquan were so fascinating in their complete and utter absence of desire, of urgency. Understandable for a people that have hailed from paradise, but it still fascinated and confounded the Harkonnen.

They were certainly a high-achieving people, a quality clearly displayed in Tii Sanura. With no lack nor sense of imperial ambition, her people tended towards scholarly, military, artistic or spiritual pursuits—the level of wealth on their planet was immeasurable to anyone who had never seen it, alien to those who did not grow up in such sheer opulence. The Sur-Kar were among the eldest of the great families; their dynasty serving critical elements to the foundation of the empire of today—the first planet to possess Spice, although not nearly as potent or abundant as Arrakis. They were a sister planet, in fact, and although the differences in culture and landscape were obvious, they possessed the same treacherous deserts deeper in the Southeast of the planet—in images, the deep desert bloomed out like a scar.

Feyd broke out of his thoughts and let out a heavy sigh through his nose. Instead of pondering Tii Sanura’s planet, it would be preferable to have the woman herself before him.

As if she had heard his thoughts, she entered through the hissing doors, her shoulders far more relaxed than they should’ve been. She let out a heaving sigh of her own, starting to remove her many rich golden shawls and copper-colored garbs. He watched eagerly, unsure if she knew he was there, but he certainly wasn’t going to call attention to himself now. He took in the golden inscriptions on her dark brown skin with all of the awe his cold black heart could manage. She didn’t undress, much to his dissatisfaction, but his eyes feasted with on her bared arms and shoulders, glistening with golden passages from the Daquani’s various ancient scriptures—there were many to give strength, tenacity, to cool the mind and spirit, to bring fortune and blessings, protections, the like. Superstitions that were outdated in a world where chance had been long buried.

“Are you ignoring me, or have you forgotten how we meet,” he asked, gravelly voice creeping along the walls towards her.

She stopped, then slowly turned around. Her golden makeup shimmered on her eyelids, harmonizing with the undertones in the high apples of her cheeks. She glowed like a precious jewel. No matter who he crossed paths with, Tii Sanura was the most beautiful woman he had ever known. He would say across the galaxy, if it wasn’t such a foolishly sentimental thing to say. She would throw such a silly compliment back into his face with blasé amusement. Her dark, void-like eyes slowly came to life as a small smile formed upon her lips. He kept his cool resolve.

“Perhaps I do not care either way, My Lord na-Baron.”

He smiled in return, pleased with the biting humor in her tone.

“The only trick you couldn’t play on me is convincing me of such a lie.”

Her mouth barely twitched into a growing smile before she corrected her face and rolled her eyes.

“Oh dear, I see the rumored hereditary madness has set in. Just as I feared.”

He let the insult roll off of his back like water as he slowly rose from his seat, stalking towards her like one of those giant cats from her planet. She had one as a pet, he recalled. He spied the sketches she had drawn in a small pocketbook she used to carry with her when they were younger—he wasn’t sure what it was for—her mood had always improved after flipping through its pages.

“It’s been so long since you’ve visited. Are you afraid?”

Her face softened in amusement. “Yes. I am quite terrified. I’m trembling as we speak.”

“You misunderstand what I refer to.”

She frowned at him as she meticulously folded her shawls and scarves, the brushed past him to set them down in the very chair he had sat on.

“Is there something I’m not aware of?”

“Today is the day we are both of age,” he said, holding back any potential hint of emotion from the phrase, “Our marriage is imminent.”

She didn’t display any hint of being affected, but only nodded. “Hm. Yes, I know. Why would this scare me, exactly? I know everything there is to know about you. I doubt I will have any ugly surprises any other poor noblewoman would have in my place.”

Feyd Rautha studied her closely. She didn’t give it away, but she was bluffing. He could feel it.

“No bridal nerves,” he poked, gaze searingly meandering across her face.

She laughed, brushing past him again and placing a knee on the bed, leaning over to grab the golden box. “What, do you think I’ve been twirling my hair and kicking my feet as I fantasize about the wedding with my ladies in waiting? Or perhaps plucking petals off of flowers in the night, biting my nails down to the cuticle?“

She turned to face him, her voice lifting to a mocking octave. “He loves me, he loves me not…”

She handed him the box, her expression serene and friendly. “I know what is in store. Here.”

He took the box, breaking his intense stare on her and sliding it open. It moved with the unsurprising weight of solid gold—the wealth of these people was borderline obscene.

Within the midsize box was a strange red fruit and an ivory hilted knife, dotted with gemstones of a deep and bloody red hue. He opted to take the knife first—a butterfly knife, upon closer inspection. A hint of a smile formed on his lips, she remembered what he asked her for the last time they’d met; it had been so long even he’d forgotten. In combat, it was obviously useless; he had asked for the gift with the hidden intention of having something equally as tangible as her when she was absent, with the hope she would stop haunting his thoughts if there was a reminder of her readily at his fingertips instead of memories and dreams.

Her eyes held a satisfied glint at his obvious pleasure. “Do you like your birthday gift?”

He looked to her, a devilish grin forming on his face. “Is this all?”

She ignored his suggestive remark with annoyance. “I pray to the gods one day you will manage to finally utter the words thank you.”

“I appreciate this, Tii-Tii.”

She seemed to stiffen a bit at the sound of her nickname, and she broke her gaze from his, moving away.

“Get out, I’m going to change.”

His grin widened playfully. “Certainly you still don’t intend to feign decency now; I am your husband, after all.”

She let out a scoff. “Near husband. I’m not asking again.”

Tii Sanura was the only woman he obeyed.

It didn’t take long for her to have changed and join him in the hall. She refused the assistance of their slaves or servants, insisting on dressing and bathing on her own. He suspected her being wary of constant eyes, but the reason for such a reason wasn’t very clear. He later came to the much more obvious conclusion that she was disgusted by them.

Ever modest, she looked more Bene Gesserit than before in the black gown she had put on: long sleeves that poured past her hands, a hood that cloaked her entire head and face from unwanted view. Of course, the fabric shimmered, as did everything from Daquan. Beauty and Tii Sanura did not wander far from one another. The dress was not stingy with her figure, and Feyd took in the curve of her hips with painfully restrained fervor. He looked away when she eyed him under the glowing light that hovered overhead between them. She brandished the fruit from her sleeve, barely containing it in her palm.

“We’ll need a bowl, you eat the seeds.”

He made a face. “You want me to chew on seeds?”

“I thought you were of age,” she chided, “You whine like a child.”

He shot her a look, and she raised her eyebrows an inch or two, eyes glistening with humor. She loved to annoy him when they were left alone together.

“So sensitive all of the sudden! Perhaps I do need to visit more often, these beaten dogs of yours coddle you.”

“It’s respect,” he corrected with some edge, “At some point you will actually need to show it to your husband.”

She only smiled more, knowing his bluffs of retribution. “Delicate baby boy.”

His eyes lingered on her mouth for a moment, making him slow down their pace to his quarters. Feyd’s jaw clenched as a vision of putting her in her place against the wall burned through his mind. He fought it as quickly as it had come, shaking his head with a slight chuckle as he broke his hot stare. By the time it passed, she had stopped her smiling and was looking away from him, having clearly gleaned what had crossed his mind. The weight of their silence made them start walking again—perhaps sharing the hope of escaping it, even for a brief moment of relief.

He cleared his throat, and the collar of his shirt suddenly felt tight, making it hard to swallow. She tossed the fruit in the air as they winded through the halls of the Harkonnens’ underworld palace, the occasional flashes of white light from the fireworks giving brief reprise from the heavy shadows around them. So much of it felt like a strange dream to Tii Sanura, with all of the darkness and high, shadowy ceilings. She could never get used to this strange, colorless planet. At home, the rich golden suns shone through every window and crevice, kissing her people’s brown skin of various shades. A far cry from the albino appearance of Harkonnens under their black sun.

She eyed Feyd-Rautha discreetly—when they first met on Geidi Prime, she was convinced her betrothed was a ghost. It was one of the few frights he had ever gotten over on her. Before her training, he could sneak up on her and surprise her, getting a laugh out of her high-pitched squeak, but those days had passed. But, once they had made it inside, she saw the fine quality of his features, the pleasing peach-colored hue of his pale skin. His eyes went from terrifying pools of ink to a keen soft blue stare, and soon she felt luckier than most of her peers with the looks of her betrothed. If directly asked (and with enough honey wine), Tii Sanura could not lie about the fact that her betrothed possessed beautiful qualities about his appearance. The older they got, the more he grew into them and the more handsome he had been becoming. It made the idea of intimacy less tolerable and more intriguing.

He felt her stare and looked at her from the corner of his eye, making her look away. She shoved the feelings blooming in her stomach into the smallest box she could and willed it away.

“You still have no qualms about marrying me,” he questioned, gaze now fixed on her hood.

“No, of course not. You’re the only person I can barely stand out of the great houses. Everyone else is just too stupid. I’d end up killing him one way or another—gods forbid such an animal would ever try to touch me, it would be more messy than my parents would be able to overlook.”

His ears perked, and a smile played on his lips. “And if I were to touch you?”

“You have touched me,” she replied loftily, “Or have you blocked out the memories of me beating you into a pulp to salvage your pride?”

She looked up at him with a wicked glint in her eye, eager to pounce on an opportunity to shift the mood to something else. Feyd stole a glance at the expression, then scoffed lightly.

He had half a mind to grab her, hold her down, and have his way with her just to see how she reacted. He knew better than to force himself onto her—he’d be kissing his gravestone if he tried—that wouldn’t bring him the pleasure he sought. She wanted him, he knew this. Her humiliated surrender to her need was what he truly hungered for. He wanted the power to unravel her.

She sighed, tossing the fruit again. He started to think of how he was going to begin as they neared his quarters, passing the guards, who Tii Sanura pointedly ignored.

His pets rose in excitement as he entered, but then retreated at his companion’s presence, giving defiant black-eyed stares. Her gaze shifted to them, hiding her expression from his face, and within mere moments they had retreated to the same corner as the slaves. He didn’t know when or how, but she had made her dislike of them very obvious when they were teenagers. He had to replace one of them in the aftermath of this dislike being shown, but never said she was jealous. She didn’t even act particularly troubled by them, but she was clearly revolted by their existence, and, he suspected, their purpose for their na-Baron. After her training with the Bene Gesserit the flashes of proof that she claimed him as he did were resigned to memories. But he didn’t believe they had vanished. Her nose wrinkled slightly in pointed distaste but she addressed Feyd cooly.

“Have you forgotten your manners? You didn’t have your quarters cleaned for your betrothed’s visit?”

He smiled at her, amused by her inexplicable temperance. “Do my darlings still bother you, Tii-Tii?”

“Remove them,” she commanded immediately, eyes fixed on the bald servant woman. “Take them for a walk, or whatever those things do.”

The woman straightened up from cowering under her haunting gaze, ushering the three women from their position and leaving the room. Her eyes moved to the servants cowering in various corners, eyeing her warily.

“You may leave,” she told them.

They quickly filed out, heads bowed and shoulders slumped. Feyd almost wanted to laugh, but knew better than to provoke her—an incensed Tii Sanura with mind control abilities was more dangerous than any atomic arsenal that could be launched at him.

He was glad to have such a woman as his wife.

She clicked her tongue, shaking her head as she lowered her hood, face glowing softly in the low, sparse light of the na-Baron’s room. He watched her with barely cloaked intrigue, freeing his throat from his collar as he moved towards her with a light smirk. She seemed oblivious to his demeanor as she continued to reprimand him.

“I’m not surprised by the barbarism your relatives display, but I do expect some semblance of class from my husband.”

“Near husband,” he corrected, stalking up behind her and placing his hand on the small of her back, “Or does your jealousy make you forget?”

She chuckled, moving away from his touch unceremoniously. “I am not jealous of filth. I am tolerant of your Harkonnen ways, but it is unsightly. Hopefully spending time in my court will help refine some of your rougher edges…although I’m not holding onto much.”

He watched with sharp eyes as she took a bowl off of a sleek black table, eyed it, and, after deciding it was clean enough, sat down on his bed and made a gesture for him to sit with her. Gladly.

“You know my pets eat out of these,” he lied, eager to tease a reaction out of her.

“Not yet, obviously,” she dismissed, “Whatever poor bastard’s their lunch just got a few more hours.”

She brandished a small black knife out of her sleeve and handed it to him with a sigh. He chuckled, but took the knife as she carefully undid the barely visible labyrinth of fastened clips and buttons that had apparently held her gown together. He watched her with interest as he sliced the fruit.

“Too lazy?”

“Too expensive,” she clarified, gesturing to her outfit with some annoyance, “I swear, my mother’s trying to drown me in fabric...”

The hood and sleeves were simply elements of a cloak that covered her actual outfit. Feyd was feeling his appetite sharpen by the second. It would prove modest to anyone else, with loose, flowing trousers and a woolen, long-sleeved tunic, but for the Daquani, especially one of her standing, he knew that what he was seeing before him was absolutely not for anyone else’s eyes but his. It was just then he observed her braids had been taken down from their elaborate updo she had at the arena—when, he didn’t know—as they gently spilled over her shoulders and framed her foxlike face. She sighed again, watching him skillfully remove each juicy seed from the fruit’s pale flesh.

“You should squeeze it,” she told him casually, curling her legs up next to her onto the bed, “The seeds will fall out.”

He paused, glancing up at her serene, delicate face before turning the fruit over and squeezing it firmly. Tii Sanura watched his hand contract around it, the seeds spilling out into the bowl as he crushed it in his grip. She felt it again; the heat that set her ablaze from head to toe the final time they’d sparred. It had been then, when he had her on the ground, the flat of his blade pressed against the hot pulse that flowed down her neck, that same hand pinning her wrist to the ground with iron-like strength as their faces brushed dangerously against each other, that she realized they were becoming a man and a woman intended to be married and no longer the youthful partners in crime she could easily maintain a satisfactory internal distance from. It was then she became aware of a new weakness, one that caught her by surprise—she never thought it possible to see him in such a way, but there she’d been, flushed in an immeasurable amount of places, wanting to feel more than his blade against her skin.

There was not a feeling more taxing, more tenacious than desire. She could feel it blooming in her stomach with dread that she put all her will into tempering. His eyes were boring into her in a way that made her want to run away, retreat, but she refused to show such a pathetic display of weakness. He managed to get all of the seeds out, discarding the fruit out into the hall where the servants remained, flinching at his motion before he returned to her, sliding both sides of the blade along his tongue to lick off the juice. She stole a brief glance at the motion, but remained unaffected, her mask solid.

“Hm; what is this?”

“My uncle gifted me some recreated seeds they made in his laboratory. Pomegranate is what they called it.”

“Strange name.”

“All dead languages sound strange if you don’t put down your knives long enough to study them,” she subtly reprimanded.

A soft laugh passed through his nose as he returned to her side on the foot of his silken-sheeted bed.

“Tii-Tii, aren’t women from your planet meant to be less…annoying?”

“I wish I could ask the same about the men from yours.”

The juice of the pomegranate seeds gradually coated their tongues as they chewed on them and continued to make playful jabs at the other.

“I want a pleasant wife,” Feyd proclaimed with the gravity of a command, “A respectful one.”

Obedient was a far-fetched fantasy.

“If you want a pleasant and respectful wife, then you must please and respect her,” she said with the impersonal tone of a proverb, “You must plant seeds to harvest what you desire.”

He eyed her quizzically as she continued eating pomegranate seeds. She didn’t respond to the question in his stare, in fact, she seemed to be avoiding his gaze altogether.

“Tii-Tii,” he began slowly, “It’s unlike you to avoid a subject.”

He watched her shoulders square off with interest. Perhaps he had more leeway over her than he anticipated.

“I don’t—“

“We both know playing coy isn’t a convincing look on you,” he interrupted, a wicked smile forming on his face.

“Whatever you wish to speak about, I will speak on,” she said, “But I must admit I don’t know what you want to discuss.”

“The consummation of our marriage.”

She didn’t miss a beat, tilting her head with a shrug. “Yes, a necessary duty. It will be fulfilled, I will give you heirs. I can guarantee no difficulty in the…process.”

Upon finally meeting her betrothed’s gaze, Tii Sanura fell silent. The heat of his stare was unmistakable, and a shiver went down her spine. This couldn’t happen yet, she thought to herself, no overextending.

“Of course, it will wait until our wedding night,” she clarified, testing the waters of his mood, “Anything beforehand would be improper.”

He didn’t answer her, only took the bowl in his hands and lifted it to her mouth.

“Spit them out.”

Hunger. It was burning off of him so intensely she could feel it against her cheeks, which were growing more flushed by the moment. She stared at him in an oppressively long silence before her eyes shifted away to the floor, then gradually met his again. She was blushing, he realized.

“Feyd, what are you doing?”

Her voice had become much more softer, confused. It made him want to pounce, but that wouldn’t do him any good, not when he was getting her where he wanted her. His silence in response weighed down the air around them with what felt to her like tons—she was cornered and she knew it. There were two options: she could fight him off and swat him away, which would anger him, but he could not resist her Voice’s commands. The other one she dare not think of, lest she forget herself. Slowly, she spit the seeds out, watching him a bit nervously. He couldn’t tell she was nervous, of course, no one could, but he had the air of certainty of a predator closing in on its hunt.

She was not ignorant to the fact her betrothed was dangerous and forceful. He was clever, manipulative, calculating, but ultimately a slave to his desires. The Reverend Mother Superior had appointed the two to one another for just this precise reason: one of the sharpest of her students to serve as a companion and counsel to such a husband, but also to keep him contained. She was well aware of her husband-to-be’s danger, and the genuine hazards that came with the heat of his passions.

Tii Sanura was still confident in her ability to defend herself physically, and she knew he had certainly not forgotten how swiftly she could put him down, even if there proved more struggle in the present day. But no, she realized, Feyd did not intend to force his way through to her at all; he knew he could tug on the threads of physical desire that he intended to conjure within her. She also knew, furthermore, that such a refutation and humiliation of her self-discipline was the gratification he wanted—how long, she couldn’t determine.

She rose from the bed as he set the bowl down. He was watching her like a panther.

“What’s wrong,” he questioned, voice saccharine with humor, “You seem tense.”

“Certainly…you can wait a few more months for an heir—“

“I don’t care about heirs, Sanura. I think that’s obvious enough.”

The way he’d said her name made her want to reconsider her resolve, but involuntary alarm bells went off as he approached her—his expression was so dark, his stare so heavy on her face that it reminded her of his thrill in the arena today, his sharp, powerful movements as he struck down his opponents. Damn him, she thought, he’s even got the propaganda working on me.

She watched as his eyes raked her body, her face, and his aura got shadowy as he stepped towards her. Bad, bad, was all that she could think, this still couldn’t happen yet. They had to be married. She tried to spin up a diversion with her words, but they were beyond unintelligible, let alone obvious lies.

“I am not like you, Feyd. I don’t harbor such desires, I am not…I do not have lustful wants. I cannot…It’s not right.”

He only held a knowing smile in his eyes as he closed in on her slowly, standing over her and peering down with evident satisfaction. She was too prideful to back away from him, no matter how badly she wanted to. Or perhaps she didn’t want to. He couldn’t tell, and Tii Sanura didn’t know herself right now. He held her jaw gently, making her hold his stare. He could feel her pulse racing under her skin, and she felt it quicken the longer she knew he could feel how fast her heartbeat was getting. It wasn’t right, she could only helplessly repeat to herself, it wasn’t time yet, it wasn’t right.

The more it kept repeating, the less it was starting to matter. The heat coming from his body was beginning to eclipse how stupid and reckless such an indulgence would be, what a delicate night this was, and how she had been avoiding this exact situation for the past year. A new voice spoke in response: and what a miserable year it has been.

“I have trouble with that, Sanura,” he said quietly, grazing one of her flushed cheeks with this thumb, “See, I don’t think you’re telling the truth.”

She lied like breathing. “I am.”

He clicked his tongue, smiling slightly. “No, you’re not. I can smell it off of you. I know my wife.”

“Near wife,” she quickly corrected, brushing his hand aside.

Her pedantry annoyed him, it wasn’t going to distract him from his goal. He knew just how to punish her for it.

“My wife all the same,” he countered, “Just as I am yours. Besides, you think I can’t tell your only weakness? You can barely think straight and all I’ve done is touch you a little.”

She was fortuitous in her composure—he knew the embarrassment that must’ve been flushing through her body at his open recognition of her obvious desire. She held his gaze now without his help; she had the strength of a challenge behind her stare. His mocking smile grew.

“I have no weakness. You are too used to the pathetic women on this planet to understand that.”

“Oh, Tii-Tii,” he lamented with a sigh, “You know I hate it when you lie to me. Do you think I’m as stupid as everyone else?”

He stepped towards her, and she stepped back. There was mild surprise in her eyes underneath her cool expression; she didn’t do it consciously. He felt his pulse starting to rise; she was cracking.

“I am not one of your whores,” she told him firmly, “You cannot have your way with me as you please. You must have my agreement.”

He smiled, eagerly backing her against the wall. “My darling beloved, I already have it. Don’t I?”

Her eyes flared with sudden alarm. “Feyd, what in the gods’ name is making you speak in such a way?”

“I am not a boy anymore, Sanura,” he said, eyes tracing her skin before returning to press down on her gaze, “And you are not a naive girl. You are a woman. You are a…beautiful woman.”

“I will not be demeaned in such a way,” she warned.

“It is not my intention to do such a thing.”

“You are cornering me like an animal.”

He smiled. “Are you cornered? Are you admitting such a thing?”

She blinked, then a sudden wave of anger darkened her features. He knew before she opened her mouth that she was about to use her Voice on him—he clasped his hand on her mouth, caging her to the wall with the rest of his body. He watched fire bloom in her eyes with reverence.

“You could not understand the way I have longed for you,” he spoke, voice too soft for anyone else but them to hear, “I would not disrespect a woman such as yourself with harm or force. But I will not wait any longer.”

Her eyes were alarmed and questioning. He willingly gave her the answer.

“I need you.”

His fingers gently grazed the scriptures that were raised on her soft skin, trying not to let his breath tremble—he did not anticipate being the slightest bit nervous to make his advance, but he couldn’t help it, not when it was her.

“You’re getting goosebumps,” he remarked with a grin, “Now why is that?”

He teased the edge of her waistband gently, watching her chest rise and fall in short, tight breaths. She was so much more easier to toy with than he thought, or she held back more needs of her own than he could’ve imagined.

“I’ve always wondered about that day.”

Tii Sanura felt her heart drop in humiliation, but an undeniable thrill shot through her. Part of her feared he’d forgotten, consider what he could be sticking his dick in every night, but here he was, admitting it had sat as heavy on his chest as hers.

“If no one had the opportunity to stop us…what I could’ve done to you…”

His fingers slid between the waistband and her bare skin as he slowly grabbed ahold of her hip, holding her in place. Her breath shuddered involuntarily, sending a jolt of hunger through his body.

“Mm, see? You aren’t made of stone, my jewel. You are a woman.”

She looked away with obvious discomfort and shame, but Feyd wanted to press a bit more before retreating. He didn’t lie, he would not force her.

“I will wait for you to come to me,” he said, leaning in to speak softly into her ear, “I won’t judge you for your needs, Tii-Tii. I know I am the only man to have ever touched you like this.”

They looked at each other, the pretense of denial have shattered, making their gazes wide open, their feelings and intentions obvious, unable to cloak them from the other. Slowly, he removed his hand from her mouth, a bit worried she would immediately lash out with a command.

She did not. She was silent. Her lips trembled.

He glanced between them and her eyes, his body slowly closing in on hers until he knew she wouldn’t resist him. He kissed her, gently, so as not to scare her too much, taking hold of her waist underneath her tunic. Her body was rigid and he could sense the nervous, confused energy coming off of her. He parted his lips from hers, feeling her trembling breath against his face.

“F-Feyd…”

She was stuttering, her mind seemingly incapable of forming a coherent thought as she frowned. Her eyes seemed to take in his face in a new way, but she couldn’t make the two different images fit. He kissed her lips again. Then her cheeks, then, with a flash of weakness, he kissed her neck, and her breath audibly drew.

“Feyd, please…”

I can’t take any more, is what she didn’t say but he knew what she meant. It made his blood get even hotter, rushing straight to his groin. His fingers dug into her skin, perfumed with roses, and he inhaled the scent greedily with a swallow.

“You think I don’t know the ways I make you excited?”

She stiffened as he forced his leg between her thighs and pressed against her, making her exhale loudly and mutter under her breath, closing her eyes and turning her face away.

“You can’t—I must…I can’t.”

She felt the cold blade of his newly gifted knife caress her cheek before he pressed the flat of it against her face to turn her face towards his, making her open her eyes and meet his gaze in challenge.

“Mm, those pretty eyes,” he said softly, trailing the dagger point down her neck, then chest, “You can’t what, my darling?”

“Don’t call me that. I’m not your pet,” she demanded, hand closing around the hilt of a blade tucked in her waistband.

“No, no, of course not,” he soothed, voice rumbling in her ears as he tilted her chin up with his jewel-jilted knife, “But you’re mine, aren’t you?”

Her eyebrows drew together, and Feyd felt a thrill flash through him like a shiver. What will you do now?

He lowered his mouth to hers, eyes burning into hers, challenging her to stop him. She tried to wriggle but it only created friction between their intertwined bodies. Her eyes shut with a grunt at the feeling of heat and a jolt of pleasure blooming between her legs against his thigh. He watched her, tongue grazing his lips.

“You disgust me,” she calmly jabbed at him, trying not to give a reaction.

He chuckled. “Oh. Do I?”

“Get off of me,” she insisted, “I’m only warning you—once…”

Her voice faltered at the feeling of his blade’s tip tracing her bare waist as he pressed harder, his erection pressing against her thigh. It was upsettingly sizeable, just as she remembered when he was on top of her before. She had prayed it was just a trick of her mind.

Fuck, no, no—she couldn’t, definitely not, at least, before they were wed. It was not only beyond taboo for a woman of her standing in Daquan—but a blow against her pride as a Bene Gesserit. She had proven herself to the Reverend Mother, and she was supposed to throw that away, be knocked up under the seductive force of a Harkonnen? It sounded beyond deranged.

“I will not lie with you,” she told him firmly, finding some ground in her desire-afflicted mind. “You cannot force me.”

“Oh, you’re really breaking, aren’t you,” he murmured against her neck, parting his lips afterwards to taste her skin.

Her chest rose high, and her left hand involuntarily grabbed onto him as she pressed her lips together, fighting the soft shudder trying to move through her body. Her right hand had a white knuckle grip on her dagger, but it faltered.

“I will not lie with you before we are wed,” she said, “I will make you stop if I have to.”

He only laughed. “You don’t have to stop me yet, Tii-Tii?”

“Feyd,” she whispered, her tone even. A warning.

“I won’t give you my heir now,” he reassured, “But that doesn’t prevent me from giving you what you need, don’t worry.”

He started to kiss down to her chest, her skin hot against his lips.

“You really do need it, don’t you? I can tell you do, or you wouldn’t be hanging onto me like that.”

The smugness in his voice both made her frustration and desire rise to a breaking point. She parted her lips to speak, but her voice had disappeared as he tossed his blade aside, undoing the top buttons of her tunic so fast she didn’t even get the chance to try and stop him. He still seemed to hold some sense of respect for her sense of modesty; instead of ripping the fabric free from her body, he let it fall slack and open, revealing her torso to him. He took in the new skin, how the golden tattoos adorned her chest, and he couldn’t help but trace the pads of his finger across them, mesmerized.

“I still can’t understand it, what you’ve done to me,” he muttered softly, tracing the tattoos that weaved up her neck. She shivered slightly at the sensation, despite her best efforts.

Her will was starting to crumble as his fingers slid under her waistband, teasing at her undergarment, his touch creeping lower so slowly her legs were becoming weak. He licked atop her collarbone and tasted her skin, her head slowly tilting back as he dragged his tongue across her throat, tasting her pulse, gently grazing his teeth against her flesh. She made a soft sound, the tension in her body softening. Feyd grinned in victory, feeling the tension in her hips slowly loosening. That’s my girl, just as you’re supposed to.

“I can feel your legs shaking,” he said, words coming out in a low hum, “You’re this pathetic, just from my touch?”

Feyd was losing sight of anything beyond this moment. Her weak, bated breath, the moan building in her throat, the heat coming off of her intoxicating skin—it was overwhelming in the most delicious way. Her breath caught as she stared up at him, feeling, with equal parts terror and awe, completely helpless. It was a state of being she never thought possible; she was always far ahead of her peers, enemies, and colleagues. Never, in her lifetime, had anyone put her in such a weak, pliable position—certainly never a man of the Great Houses.

But here he was: her husband, the only one she ever thought close to matching her, doing just that, and about to push beyond it. Her lips slowly parted as her breath evened and he gently brushed his mouth against his. Their eyes fell shut at the mutual feeling.

“Kiss me,” he whispered against her mouth.

The heavy footsteps reached Tii Sanura’s ears before they reached his, and as the doors hissed, she had summoned a surge of strength within her to shove him away and quickly lunge over to the seat her cloak was and tugging it on. He fell back onto his bed in pure disorientation as she fastened a few of the bigger buttons and pulled the hood over her beautiful, precious face. Feyd quickly sat up as he looked from her cloaked figure to his cousin’s hulking frame barging into his quarters. An overwhelming wave of hatred washed over him as he glanced between them both with suspicion and curiosity. The fucking bastard, he seethed to himself.

“Uncle wants you to see him,” Rabban said, “And you, too.”

She ignored him, leaving the room smoothly with her hood up. Feyd watched her slip through his fingers in furious agony. The fucking bastard; he was so close.

“What—“

Feyd’s white-hot glare was enough to make Rabban turn away and leave.

***

Tii Sanura’s aura was dark and heavy as they were all escorted to meet with the Baron. She stalked ahead of the men in silence, her cloaked hands clasped firmly behind her back. Feyd eyed her with a discreet sense of pride while Rabban eyed her warily. Her hooded figure was unsettling to The Beast; there was something about the silence and swiftness of her movements which set his spine straight. This mood troubled him; in the underworld of corridors they travelled, she could easily slip from his sight and do god knows what. He remembered the day she interrupted his training session hours after he had insulted her culture’s customs, and she brutally beat him with just the same coordination and grace as she had in her movements now. Needless to say, he apologized.

Rabban glanced to Feyd, but his cousin’s face, as usual, remained impossible to decipher.

The three entered the quarters of Baron Harkonnen in silence. Instantaneously, Tii Sanura’s entire aura shifted from agitated to perfectly collected. The Baron blew smoke from his hookah, smiling at the sight of her as he reclined in his ink black bath. It took all her fortitude to not allow disgust to creep up in her mind at the unpleasant sight.

“Ah, my dear nice-in-law,” he remarked, “I’m glad you visited today.”

She smiled, briefly inclining her hooded head. “Lord Baron.”

Feyd and Rabban stood by as the Baron Harkonnen and Tii Sanura exchanged disturbing pleasantries with warm smiles.

He chuckled, rising the hookah to his lips. “How did you like your betrothed’s performance today? Did you not find it impressive? He’s improved, no?”

Feyd eyed her as he awaited her answer; she knew better than to refuse the statement or show any degree of affection towards the na-Baron, but there was always a sliver within him that hungered for her approval.

“He has learned well,” she affirmed smoothly.

“Perhaps after the wedding you can test your blade against his again, see for yourself.”

A soft smile briefly spread on her lips as she turned to him, gaze spelling vengeance. Feyd’s gaze tossed the challenge back with a small smirk. Her eyes said something he couldn’t decipher in response. Rabban glanced between the two discreetly, but his cousin still caught his eye, making him avert his gaze. Tii Sanura’s eyebrow rose a quirk as she glanced over at Rabban as well before turning her attention back to the eldest Harkonnen.

“Perhaps indeed, Lord Baron, but at least let him give me heirs first.”

He chuckled lightly, smoke billowing from his lips. Rabban observed the three with split second glances before remaining still, lest their withering stares fix onto him. He never trusted the Daquani girl. She was too clever, too good at saying the perfect things at the perfect time. His time on Arrakis only made him more wary—to come home to a woman so similar to the rats he fought on Arrakis, charming room after room, bathed in gold and glittering jewels, wrapping his Uncle around her finger only spelled trouble to him.

She was skilled at eliciting any paternal affections the soulless Baron Vladmir Harkonnen possessed—her mental acuity and combat skills already made her the bride he’d envisioned for his prized nephew, but her family’s power and prowess bumped her up to god’s personal gift to him. As if to prove his point, the Baron’s expression glowed with the same fondness he looked upon Feyd with—she was already family.

Rabban swallowed his annoyance, and Baron Vladmir’s eyes slid over to him slowly as if he’d sensed it; his expression quickly souring.

“You may leave.”

Anyone who could make Rabban go away in a moment’s notice immediately gained the Duchess’s favor. Feyd watched her back slowly relax as Rabban left, slinking up next to her. She didn’t shift her focus from his Uncle as their hands brushed against each other.

“Now then, enough pleasantries,” the Baron dismissed, “I have spoken with your family this week. I am sure you know Tii.”

She nodded. “Indeed, My Lord.”

“We have agreed that tomorrow is the day you two shall finally unite.”

Tii Sanura’s stomach dropped, and Feyd suppressed a smile. It seems he didn’t need to wait a few more months after all. He could sense the tension in his fiancé, though, and brushed the satisfaction he felt aside. Either she was truly afraid to marry him, or she knew something he didn’t.

She didn’t falter; in fact, she smiled. “I see, when are we to return to Daquan?”

“They intend to send for you tonight. A bit hasty, but I suspect they are a bit protective of their heir all alone on Geidi Prime, all these years aside. We’ve also discussed your living arrangements.”

Feyd eyed his Uncle suspiciously. “Living arrangements?”

“Yes, the Duke and Duchess have generously invited you to live as newlyweds in their court; I see no protest. You will enjoy yourself, nephew; I have heard many stories of the pleasure of Daquan. Consider it another gift for your birthday.”

Feyd’s jaw clenched as he recalled the afternoon attempt on his life in the arena with the Atreides slave with some annoyance. He pondered drowning his Uncle as his expression darkened. His lips dared to part and speak the thought, but Tii Sanura pinched him discreetly to tell him to be quiet. Sensing something beyond his understanding, he obliged his wife.

“Don’t tell me you’re still upset, nephew, you proved yourself quite well,” the Baron chided, chuckling, “Besides, I have another gift for your birthday.”

His lips parted into a smile that made Tii Sanura’s blood chill.

“Arrakis.”

The air in the room shifted. Tii Sanura’s mind fell still. Arrakis. The sister planet to her own, populated with a people whose ancestors undoubtedly lived in some semblance of the peace and calm hers did before the Empire discovered their Spice, before the Harkonnens sunk their claws into the planet. She held her composure, but wanted to swallow. The thought of ruling over Arrakis made her throat feel like sandpaper. The thought of Arrakis made her blood pulse and thicken. She wanted to sit, she wanted to leave immediately, she wanted to go back home.

Feyd placed his hand on her lower back, glancing over to her. She resented the way it calmed her. She couldn’t stand it.

“Rabban has obviously proved his incompetence, and I need Spice production stabilized. And you, my dearest niece-in-law, you will undoubtedly find a way to make yourself of use in this effort.”

“Of course, Lord Baron,” she assured, her expression placid.

“Of course, still, there are more talks to be had beyond this, but your union, and our houses’ unions are imperative. Go and prepare for your voyage, and allow me to be the first to congratulate you—I sense your union will be…more than agreeable.”

The Baron grinned, and instinctively Tii Sanura’s stepped away from Feyd’s touch to give a slight bow of respect. She offered a meditative smile, bowing her head slightly again and leaving silently. Feyd-Rautha followed, eyes fixed on her curiously. What did she know that he didn’t?

The moment the doors shut, Tii Sanura whirled around, and her hand shot out and collided harshly with Feyd-Rautha’s face. Without missing a beat, she walked towards her quarters at full stride, frustrations bubbling within her as if they had all come to boil.

“Do not ever touch me in that man’s presence,” she snapped lowly, eyes smoldering with barely restrained frustration, “I will not tolerate such humiliation, and you—“

She suddenly cut herself off as Feyd watched the anger boil over into the darkest glare he’d ever seen on his betrothed’s face. They held each other’s gazes, and a flash of realization passed over Tii Sanura’s face, sweeping away her temper as quickly as it had descended, causing him some dissatisfaction—he had never seen her so alive. She sucked her teeth, giving him a harsh look and stalking off back to her quarters.

The bastard.

As she rounded the corner, Feyd grabbed her and pinned her to the wall, eyes smoldering. Her gaze held heat too, and it flared back at him with upset and desire. His hand closed around her throat carefully, holding her to the wall as he whispered in her ear. She was learning new things about herself today—the second was what the sensation of such a gesture did to her body. His breath fanned against her face before her spoke quietly into her ear, mindful that his voice didn’t carry beyond the dark, empty hallway. To her shock and thrill, her language flowed from his lips as he spoke.

“Don’t hit me like that unless you’re willing to pay for it,” he told her, voice practically a low growl, “When we’re married, the next time you strike me like that, I’m going to bend you over the first thing I see and fuck that attitude right out of you. That’d be just what you needed, wouldn’t it? I bet you need it now.”

Their breaths were heavy as he let go of her throat, grabbing the back of her neck, and pulled her into a heated, aching kiss. She grabbed onto the fabric of his tunic with a soft quaver of her voice in her throat, opening her mouth—her body had nearly taken over her mind with need, and she crumbled into the kiss with almost as much need as her husband-to-be. He had to hold back the satisfied groan that wanted to rumble in his chest at her near matching his hunger before suddenly pushing him back as much as he would allow. Her breath was quiet but heavy. Her eyes were unmistakable, even in the shadows of the Harkonnen palace. Feyd held her tighter, leaning in again and taking another kiss.

She slowly closed her eyes, her eyebrows briefly creasing before her expression softened into nothingness again. Her body relaxed into a deep exhale, and suddenly, everything became…

Feyd’s world blurred around him. His mind spun as his feet’s hold on the ground seemed to lapse in and out. All he could hang onto was her scent, her heat, the pulsing blood that rushed through her body. Then, her voice. It whispered to him, but she didn’t open her mouth. A Bene Gesserit trick, he realized.

Follow me.

He wanted to be angry at her slight smirk, but he couldn’t; his mind and body were sedated under her cooling presence as she rose from the wall and took his hand off of her throat, linking their fingers to lead him through the darkness. He opened his mouth, but her whispers stopped him.

Don’t speak. You don’t need to. I know what it is you need.

Somehow he could still see her eyes through the shadows that devoured them both. His heartbeat filled his ears—but whispers did, too, whispers he couldn’t understand. He heard her gently laugh, much to his annoyance and stoking his lust. His hunger couldn’t decide if he preferred how she unraveled for him, or how she could assert her will over every aspect of his being at a moment’s notice.

He blinked, and suddenly his mind cleared. They were in her room. His cock strained against his pants as she reclined on her bed, resting on her elbows. He could see the curves of her breasts through her cloak—was she only wearing her cloak?

“Come,” she told him, her gaze dangerous. Another change.

She didn’t need to command him. Feyd knew the danger he had to be in for her to invite her to his bed, but he had no control. He slowly climbed on top of her, wary of whatever she had up her sleeve.

Careful, her Voice whispered. Not a command, but a warning. His mind sharpened with the familiarity of being caught in one of her traps. Her looked over her serene face with confusion.

“The time has come, my friend,” she said softly, “When I am to test if you are simply an animal, or a man.”

The world suddenly grew clear, and he became acutely aware of something pointing at the side of his neck.

“I hold the Gom Jabbar at your neck,” she told him, eyes scathingly watchful, “One move, and I kill you.”

He swallowed, his desires becoming increasingly stoked by the passing moment. She had him bested once again.

“What is my test,” he asked, eyes taking in glimpses of the bare inscribed skin underneath the black, shimmering fabric.

“Focus,” she sweetly reprimanded, “Or you will die by your wife’s hand.”

He held her stare, feeling his cock aching painfully. She moved her sleeve, revealing a small box further up the bed. He moved with her as she slowly reclined until her head was right next to it, and his hand threatened to slide into the mysterious contraption.

“Put your hand into the box,” she instructed, her lips brushing against his.

He was very wary of her intentions now, she was too open, too intoxicating. Hesitantly, he followed her directions while stealing glances at her.

“What is in it, Sanura?”

Her teeth gleamed in the light as a knowing smile curved her full, pillowy mouth.

“Pain.”

The moment the word left her lips, agony overcame his entire being. He knew to hold still, she would kill him without thinking, but his hand felt as if it was being put through multiple tortures all at once—the skin and muscles flaying off of bone, the fire consuming bubbling flesh, the freezing cold making the sinews brittle and dead. It was too much—he couldn’t hold it back anymore.

He held his wife’s dangerous, enigmatic stare as his hips slightly thrust against her and his cock pulsed and twitched in his pants. She felt it, but didn’t respond.

“Don’t move,” she warned.

His eyes were seeing white with the overwhelming sensations consuming his body—he held onto his wife’s instruction, trying to find her eyes through the haze. He was certain at this point that his hand was long gone, but the pain continued, telling him otherwise.

A groan filled his throat, and she clicked her tongue.

“Silence,” she told him.

His breath was ragged as he fought it down. This woman would be the death of him. He couldn’t tell if he hated her or loved her in this moment of torment.

He fixed his gaze onto hers, forcefully keeping himself upright with nothing but spite and terror. He watched her smile grow, but then she became blurry, and her whispers filled his ears. He felt her careful touch wipe his eyes so he could see clearly again.

“Very good,” she said.

Tears involuntarily rolled down the na-Baron’s face. He was right at the gates of release as she lowered the Gom Jabbar, visibly pleased. The pain lowered from its mind-frying crest, making him nearly collapse onto her if it weren’t for the tension holding his muscles in place.

“You can take your hand out, now.”

Feyd discovered with some shock that his hand was completely intact. Pristine, even. He swallowed, looking down at his wife in shock as his nervous system slowly stabilized. She was smiling. It was a strange one. Not the kind from games or torment, but unmistakably tender. Feyd’s heart slammed in his chest as he slowly rested his forehead against hers, but she allowed it.

“Very good,” she repeated, leaning upwards to gently press her cool cheek against his hot, teary face.

His words rasped out. “Am I an animal, my love?”

She chuckled sweetly, the devilwoman. He wanted to ravage her right then and there.

“You are an animal of a man, my husband. But you prove a man, indeed.”

“So have I passed your Bene Gesserit test, then,” he asked, eyelids heavy as he lifted himself up and let his gaze pass over her body again.

“Yes,” she said, “And now…”

He pressed his hips into her slowly, desire slowly reviving his traumatized senses. “…Now?”

“Now…”

She slowly lifted her chin, tasting the salt on his cheeks, feeling the hungry tremor pass through his body with satisfaction. His hands balled into fists, gripping the silken sheets in his hands. He inhaled her scent, roses and sweat and lust, mouth nearly watering. She grinned as she spoke into his ear.

“You must leave and prepare to depart for our wedding.”

At the flash of indignation on his face, she quickly changed her tone.

“Now,” she commanded.

Involuntarily, he rose, his face blank. She lied back with a sigh, placing the Gom Jabbar back into its cloth sheath and placing it on the bed next to her.

“I will see you soon, my friend,” she teased, “Perhaps your pets can satisfy you.”

The monstrous woman, he thought to himself as he unwillingly left her quarters. I knew she was jealous of them.

Tii Sanura let out a heaving exhale, lying back on the silken pillows and closing her eyes. It was only then her awareness noticed the pair of servants in the corner, awestruck and terrified. She sat up, covering herself with a bit of embarrassment.

“Oh dear, my apologies,” she said, finally addressing them, “I am usually not so sloppy. That was rather…improper of us.”

The two women eyed her warily. She considered them, then gave a small, benevolent smile.

“You may stand properly. I will be your new mistress, and I do not hail from a house of savagery. I expect my servants to stand with some semblance of grace.”

The two women shared a look of confusion, but quickly separated, timidly emerging from the corner with their heads bowed and shoulders crumbled. They faced her and looked at her, but she quickly realized the slaves of the Harkonnens did not know how to stand properly.

“Oh dear,” she remarked.

The slaves tensed in fear, trembling in anticipation of a brutal punishment. Tii Sanura rose from the bed.

“You must lift your heads, my darlings. Stand as I do.”

They observed her, then, warily straightened their spines, their shoulders squaring. Her expression was calm but warm, and she nodded in approval.

“That is better, but we will work on it.”

She considered them in silence, and the slaves gradually became less tense, unsure of what to do or anticipate from the stranger.

“What are your names?”

They feared her too much to speak. Her eyes softened.

“That is alright. You will decide yourselves when the time is right.”

She clothed herself, then gestured for them to approach. They avoided her eyes, but moved towards her quickly.

“You shall join me in Daquan. Is this agreeable?”

The two women nodded, hesitant to disobey, curious and eager to leave the cruel House Harkonnen to discover the court of their new mistress. She smiled.

“I suspected as much. Stay close to me. I will not allow otherwise.”

***

Feyd immediately sought out his wife the moment they were on their way to Daquan in a rage. His footsteps were silent—habit of a trained killer, but his fury was easily felt by Tii Sanura as she and the two Harkonnen slave women conversed.

He stormed into her quarters, meeting an unbelievably bizarre sight—two of his house’s slaves, smiling, conversing freely with his wife, dressed in the luxurious fabrics and jewels that she was adorning them in. Their faces fell in mortal terror at the sight of him, but his wife was unmoved. His stomach twisted, a new, unpleasant feeling. Something was wrong.

“Ah, hello, my friend.”

He moved to grab the slaves, but his wife’s dark stare stopped him in his tracks.

“Take one step towards them and I will return their suffering to you hundredfold,” she snapped, then smiled, “Do you understand?”

Indignation rose to a peak, he snapped at them. “Out.”

Tii Sanura was clearly annoyed by his addressing of the women, but she remained calm.

“No, no; you may stay. I do not want the Harkonmen envoys near you.”

“What is wrong with you, woman,” he demanded, stalking towards her as the women retreated to share a corner, frozen in silence.

She watched him calmly, her expression serene as always. Her eyebrows rose in mock sympathy.

“You did not ease your affliction with your pets?”

Her eyes flitted over to the women with a playful wink; embarrassment simultaneously infuriated and aroused him, and he glared back at the women. They stood differently, he noticed, and then he realized they were awaiting her instructions. Something was wrong.

“What is this,” he questioned, voice forcibly calmed, “What is happening in this room?”

She seemed to be glowing with a quiet joy, her features no longer held the shadow they did in Geidi Prime. She touched his face.

“Calm yourself,” she commanded gently, “And hear me.”

Feyd’s head swam as his nervous system suddenly slowed down. She guided him to her bed, and the two sat. He had never seem such warmth in her eyes.

“I will give you what you need,” she assured, whispering so as not to reach the ears of the women in the corner, “I can promise you; it will outclass any pleasure you derive from suffering. I will give you something better. Let your anger go.”

Her hand soothingly rubbed his back, a motion he did not understand, but wanted to continue. His confusion under the gaze of slaves made him tense. This was beyond humiliation.

“Feyd, do you trust me?”

Easy answer. “No.”

She laughed softly. “I will change that. But you can. I am fond of you, and our marriage ensures your safety.”

Safety?

The na-Baron knew he was missed crucial pieces of the puzzle his wife-to-be had built, but needed no additional information to understand he was caught in her web, and traveling through space directly into the nest itself.

“I cannot tell you everything until we are wed, and your safety is guaranteed.”

Her fingers caressed his jaw soothingly, and he looked at her. He didn’t know who the woman before him was.

“What are you planning, Tii Sanura,” he asked her, voice low.

“It is not my plan. It is the plan. And Vladimir Harkonnen is not included.”

A conspiracy. Familiar ground. He felt a bit more settled with this knowledge, but still, he was wary.

“I am your hostage, then?”

She laughed. It was a laugh he remembered from long ago, when she teased him for not having eyebrows when they were children.

“There is no need for hostages. The course is set. There is no escape. You are my betrothed. We are marrying, and that is all. They want you to breed. I want you to live.”

The word intrigued him. “Breed?”

She laughed slightly. “You will understand soon enough. I see glimpses of the path, but I will see it all. I will make sure you survive the coming storm.”

He scanned her face, but there was no way to know if Tii Sanura was ever lying, not to mention she was speaking nonsense. Seeing he couldn’t understand her, she sighed.

“Give me a moment.”

She led the women outside, conversing with the guards—no, instructions, Feyd corrected, orders to protect them if trouble arose—then returned inside so they were alone. Her eyes were fond, affectionate. It made his stomach churn. His head was spinning.

“I apologize that I cannot ease your confusion, my friend. Plans have been in motion since we have been betrothed; this is all I can tell you for now. You will learn the rest on your own.”

She went over to him, cupping his cheek in her hand and kneeling before him, resting onto his lap. Feyd felt the blood rush to his groin immediately.

“You have known no other life than the one given to you on Geidi Prime. It is a brutal, unnatural existence, but you have become the best specimen of such a place, which is why I fought for you.”

Fought?

“Your way of life has perfected you for the Baron’s purposes. But I wish to show you new ways of life—better ways. You burn what does not need burning, you strike when you need to caress. You will learn these things in Daquan.”

His heartbeat was slamming in his chest as she slid between his legs, looking up at him as he felt her breasts gently pressing against his lower abdomen, stoking the fires of his lust punishingly.

“I only ask of you to let me show you the way. I believe you can be redeemed. Let me show you the way to redemption.”

“I do not need to be redeemed,” he demanded, placing his hand around her throat, “You insult me.”

She smiled, and chuckled softly. “I will first teach you the ways of unsullied pleasure. Let me demonstrate my first lesson, and we will see how you feel afterwards.”

Her hands freely massaged his painful erection with careful pressure. His head swam his need; his grip tightened on her throat. She placed her hand over his, and he curiously allowed her to guide it elsewhere, lower, where his hand cupped her breast. His inhale was sharp.

“Do forgive my deception; I am not uneducated in matters of sex.”

The smile in her lips guaranteed her apology was false. Jealously lazily flared in him, but faded as she continued to massage his length through his pants.

“I cannot show any weakness in your court, so I had to hide many aspects of myself. I suspect you will be pleased with the discoveries you make in our time together.”

“I…will not be your pet, woman,” he protested, pleasure beginning to dull his harsher intentions. She deserved to be punished for her antics and condescension, but her hands were undoing him.

“No, you will not,” she assured, moving closer to graze his lips with hers, “You will be my husband.”

He kissed her hungrily, thrilled and conflicted by the newfound passion he was given back by his betrothed. He wished to take it from her, but she gave it so freely, and he needed the release so badly he couldn’t care less how he got her to ease his agonizing denial. She was tugging at his puppet strings, he knew this, but to receive whatever she offered, he would accept being bested. For now.

She broke their lips apart, eyes slowly opening, lids heavy in a way that he never thought possible.

“Do you trust me now,” she asked, kissing his jaw, slowly unbuttoning his trousers.

“No,” he muttered, then, after gathering his thoughts, “I don’t know.”

Her lips brushed against his ear. “Surrender this moment to me, and I will show you the beauty of trust.”

He had no protest. She smiled.

“Mm, I thought so.”

“You witch,” he protested at her gloating.

She only chuckled. “I cannot perform magic tricks, but I understand your confusion.”

Her kiss firmly silenced any retort she had as she closed her hand around his clothed length, making his breath shudder.

“My customs prevent me from making any sexual contact with your bare flesh,” she whispered, her voice wavering, “But the scriptures I studied didn’t mention anything about—“

He cut her off, taking her face in his hands and kissing her with unrestrained hunger as she began stroking him at a measured rhythm. He groaned softly into her mouth, and she tasted it eagerly. She spoke against his lips.

“I want you to be my husband,” she said, breathing heavily, “Do you understand? No other man will do. No other man would be my lover. I want you.”

“I knew you wanted me,” he muttered lazily, completely at the mercy of her skillful hands, “You cannot lie to me about this.”

“I will not lie to you anymore,” she said, words flowing from her lips in the heat of the moment, “There will be no need to. We will be together.”

He growled involuntarily at the feeling of his climax approaching as she sighed.

“You—you belong to me,” he said, it was both a statement and a question.

“We belong to each other,” she whispered, “No one will disturb us. No one will want to.��

His hand closed around her throat again and squeezed. She sighed again, no other man would take control like him, even when he was at his weakest.

“You belong to me,” he repeated—this time, it was a command.

She smiled, making sure to draw each word out, the surrender he had hungered for so ardently for so, very, very long. Her voice was soft and sweet in his ear, but strained under his grip.

“I belong to you.”

He climaxed almost immediately. He groaned as his cum spilled inside his pants; it belonged in her hot, wet cunt, but that was a matter for later. She hummed in affirmation as his cock twitched and pulsed underneath her hand, and made a slight sound of surprise as his hips jutted against her chest. She gripped him tightly and slowed her pace, humming along with his groans, smiling against his skin as his choking slowly changed to gripping her jaw to hold her still for his ravenous kisses, then changed to gripping her hair at her scalp to bare her neck to his hungry mouth.

She gasped as he kissed and sucked at her throat like a starved animal, then, to his astonishment, moaned softly.

“Feyd,” she barely said, her words barely intelligible through her growing sounds of pleasure, “Feyd, wait…”

His teeth grazed her skin, and she shivered with a smile, moving her hand away from his spent cock to press them both against his chest. She was being too indulgent, but then again, he had always been a bad influence.

“You want to wait,” he asked, tugging her head back, “You care about some old books?”

She chuckled, then moaned as he left a mark on her skin with a harsh kiss.

“I must—We must wait.”

She gently pushed him back, and he accepted her resistance. He was satisfied by her willingness to express her desire; her surrender to his demand. Hesitantly, he restrained himself and pulled away. She kissed him softly, caressing his head with such affection he would’ve thought a stranger was touching him.

“Without principles, we are no better than animals,” she said, “Not all disciplines are easy, I don’t deny it.”

She smiled at him, a devilish twinkle forming in her eyes.

“But the rewards for such obedience prove much sweeter than without it.”

The na-Baron took in his betrothed’s blissful features with an odd sense of reverence.

“You are a strange woman,” he remarked.

She smiled in amusement. “And you are a strange man.”

They kissed again, with Tii Sanura climbing into his lap as his hands hungrily roamed her clothed body.

“Are my convoys landing with me, my jewel,” he asked between kisses.

She laughed quietly. “They will make it to our realm. Then, I will have them released into the asteroid belt. Is this agreeable?”

Feyd laughed in return. “Yes, I believe it is. But I will require more of your…assistance.”

Her giggles were music to his ears as he hoisted her up into his arms, then tossed her onto her back on the bed, climbing on top of her and pressing himself between her legs.

He would have had no other woman as his wife.

#Spotify #feyd x reader #feyd rautha #my wriitng #amaranthine_enihtnarama #black y/n #fanfic authors #dune fanfiction #dune fandom #feyd x you #feyd fanfiction #feyd rautha smut #is this desire?

[matsutsut]

Terrible trigger discipline, someone correct her.

#art #drawing #illustration #amatuer art #oc #others ocs #ttrpg character #birthday

[ambrosialdesire]

down boy, down

18+ DARK CONTENT BELOW, MINORS + BLANK BLOGS DNI

pairing: gorou x fem!reader word count: 6.5k warnings + tags: general yandere and obsessive themes, explicit sexual content, unhealthy relationships, kinda pwp, slight misogyny, dubcon, edging, male masturbation, heat (rut), knotting, breeding, innocent virgin (for now) & pervert gorou, mentions of panty stealing, brief sub gorou (he's just insanely horny), begging, degradation sorta, religious guilt implications, power imbalance/abuse of power, corruption (kinda, it's just yae miko is just nudging him), all characters are 18+ synopsis: generals are supposed to be the prime example of rigorous restraint and complete self-discipline, but this doggy general can't control himself when your presence is around. gorou feel like he's losing his mind with the way his thoughts only contain the need to completely breed you and it's getting worse as time goes on. a/n: yes i can write something else besides aot lolol some terms are not officially in-game (mostly the military terminologies) and some parts of the lore i sorta forgot because its been so long since i played inazuma's story. i tried as best as i could to fill in. there's not a lot of yandere gorou so i wanted to try my hand at it. this is technically my first smut fic in a while so apologies in advanced if it's bad (i'm terrible at dirty talk cause it's so awkward to write lol). in my mind, he has scars, muscles (but not super super defined ones), and is slightly taller than his in-game model. i wanted to try and write in the guy's perspective cause it may or may not be a practice for some incoming fics hehe enjoy!! note: please keep in mind of the tags above and do not proceed if triggering or uncomfortable, especially if you are a minor!! do not read my or any other writers' dark content if you are underaged. this is a fictional work and does not reflect irl morals, do not believe this is how a real romance works or functions.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ.───

For Archons' sake, Gorou's a general.

Someone who has the respect of all that he swore to protect. He's the supposed "top-dog" soldier of Watatsumi Island. He built his reputation from the ground up, spent years upon years training himself to be the best soldier on the island. He's the number one supporter of Sangonomiya Kokomi, the Divine Priestess who entrusted him with leading her army safely through the throes of this terrible war. He's been told he was a humble leader, a man of sincere righteousness, a good person.

Internally, he knew that everyone had it all wrong about him.

They don't know that this man, this soldier, had become a disgusting degenerate of an animal.

Sick, sick thoughts filled his mind when the nights grew quiet and the bonfires outside had soon slowly burned out. The innate want — no, need — to breed, consistently grew stronger with each passing night; it was a genetic predisposition that he felt like he had been cursed with. If he thought about it for too long, he could feel himself harden and strain against the restraints of his garments. He'd get himself to the point where he'd slowly palm himself, his body growing warm and his breathing quickening, but he'd never finish. It was frustrating from the way he'd get oh so close but he just couldn't cum, no matter how much his cock was twitching or how much his tip was leaking out precum.

It was too shameful, too scandalous.

Gorou wasn't always like this. For the longest time, his urges had always been easy to control. His mind had always been focused on battle positioning plans and extreme training regimes, anything to get the upper hand against the Tenryou Commission. It was like everything in him was suddenly rewired the day you joined the ranks.

Usually it was not his place to oversee newcomers, the lower ranked captains were assigned for that position. However, Her Excellency wanted him to train this group of newbies this time around. She told him that it was the utmost emergency, resources and people were running low and she needed time to gather more support. Gorou would never refuse her request so he obeyed her command, preparing himself with speeches and strategies.

Very few people were willing to go up against the Shogunate and her powerful army; he was the one that had to inspire them and ensure that their minds were set for fighting for what was right. They had to fight, not only for the island but for the people who were currently being persecuted in the Inazuma mainland.

As he approached the training area while reading over the speech, he stopped dead in his tracks. A light scent, almost a sweet floral, lingered in the air. It was a complete contrast against the sweat and dirt so he followed after it, his eyes finally landing on you.

You were sparring with one of the other newbies, pinning him to the ground while laughing. You held your own well, the man was twice your size and there he laid in a dazed confusion. His tail fluffed up as he watched you get up and stretch, the disheveled training uniform pulling up and revealing the smooth skin of your stomach.

He felt himself swallow nervously as you noticed his presence, your body stiffening and going into the position of standing at attention. You were the only one to do so, the others scrambling to copy your actions as they finally realized he was watching them.

It was rare to see women in Watatsumi Island or in the village, much less so his age. Most of them either were dedicated shrine maidens, women who were already happily married, or the elderly taking care of their grandchildren while their parents worked outside of the island. To see you was quite a surprise, especially since the other trainees that surrounded you were all men. There was a small handful of resistance soldiers that were the opposite sex, all working alongside Her Excellency as her advisors.

Gorou had to regain his thoughts, trying to shake out your smell out of his head. He began to speak, slowly pacing back and forth as he recited the whole trainee speech in verbatim, finally turning towards them and saluting a dismissal. The crowd saluted in return, soon dispersing to carry out other assigned duties and he opened his communication box to send back a message to Kokomi when all of the sudden, he felt a tap on his shoulder.

It was the flower-smelling soldier, you. He tried not to stare at you while he was talking but your scent was so enticingly distracting, he couldn't help but take a few glances. You were even prettier up close, the particular aroma was even stronger as you stood in front of him.

"General Gorou sir." You saluted quickly, your posture unwavering. You positioned quite well for a starting soldier, color him impressed.

"At ease. Do you need anything—?" He didn't know your name yet, lightly trailing off. You seemed to catch on with his hesitancy, perking up immediately.

"L/N. Private Y/N L/N. And yes General sir, I would like to ask when will we be doing weapon and hand-to-hand combat training."

"In a few weeks. The skills that we will be teaching this week is all physical activity training. It's quite necessary. It would be pretty embarrassing running down the battlefield and falling just because your body can't hold up the armor." He heard you snort, your hands going over your mouth almost immediately. His face grew warm as he stared at you with wide eyes, your gaze casting itself to the ground.

"Sorry General sir, I couldn't help but laugh."

Gorou's tail started wagging, his hand immediately catching it before it could move any noticeably faster. With his other hand, he placed it on your shoulder and smiled.

"Please, you can just call me Gorou. I'm not fond of formalities when we aren't on the field." Your eyes lit up once more, that was the funny thing about newbies. They always look up to the more skilled seniors, especially if they were a high rank like him.

"Yes sir- Gorou." You corrected yourself quickly, causing him to chuckle. The two of you began to discuss, mostly small talk to fill up the time. It was supposed to be a professional conversation but the more he spoke with you, the more personal he wanted to be. The two of you were soon interrupted however, you were needed by one of the captains. He quickly dismissed you, not wanting for you to get any bad first impressions from his colleagues. He didn't realize that his tail had drooped down low when you disappeared from view, the fur flattened down completely.

As the weeks went by, you proved to be a diligent and hardworking soldier, carrying out tasks with no complaints. During his observations, you rarely had any struggle keeping up with the men, not that it mattered in the first place. You were more nimble than most during close combat and you did better with a polearm than a bow or sword. During those weeks of training, he was only observing you. He swore it wasn't stalking, God forbid.

It was innocent at first, what he thought about you. He liked you, he usually liked all of his subordinates but something felt different about you. Was it because you were the only woman in the ranks at the moment? He wasn't like this around Her Excellency nor her advisors, but that was completely out of respect. Didn't he respect you?

The realization hit him when he saw your hair down one night while making his rounds around the camp. You were returning from the bathhouse, most likely bathing after all the men so you could have the well-needed privacy.

You spotted him first, waving a hand from afar. He only noticed when the floral scent hit him, barely smelling the hint of soap along with it. He finally became aware of the fact that your hair was still damp, pooling down over your shoulders. The moonlight bore down on you, giving you a glow that was absolutely breathtaking and then you smiled.

You smiled and everything suddenly felt tight in his body, as if he was being restrained by his own skin.

Gorou was lucky that it was nighttime and he was a distance away. Any closer and you would have been able to see how red his face had gotten. He'd only seen your hair up, a military standard that must be followed for all who had a hair length that went past their shoulders, so to see you like this left him dumbfounded. He quickly waved back and jogged off to his housing early, feeling his heart beat hard in his chest as he shut the door harder than it needed to.

He went over to sit on his bed, doubling over as he clutched a fist over his chest. His body was warming up and it felt like he couldn't breathe, only able to take in quick, sharp inhales. His mind felt like it was all over the place but still was able to only focus on one thing: you.

It was unethical with what he was feeling. He could only remind himself that he is a general — a rank higher than most — and here he was, thinking about a private. You looked up to him, you were supposed to because he was your leader, your guidance in this kind of world. Yet the way you gazed at him with complete adoration and fascination, the way you cheered praises at him when he showed off during sparring, it was getting to him when it shouldn't. Others had done the same but when it came to you, he just couldn't have enough.

Gorou's body felt like it was on fire and he moved to lay down, wincing when he finally noticed that he was hard. This never happened, this never happens. Maybe he could just sleep it off. In the morning, all of this would be gone. These... feelings.

He couldn't relieve himself. If he touched himself and came, it would be considered a sin. He had no room in his plans to visit the shrine maidens and confess something so innocuous. What would he even say? Forgive me, for I have thought and climaxed to one of my lower subordinates inappropriately. He'd prefer getting incapacitated by General Kujou Sara than say anything relating or similar to that.

He sat up and carefully removed his clothes, shuddering as the chilled air touched his bare skin. The bandages that he wore in his lower half were still intact but there was a definite outline of where his stiffened cock was being restrained. Fuck.

Gorou hesitantly went to trace his fingers along the outline, barely putting any pressure against it before he sharply inhaled, looking over and seeing that he reached the tip. It felt good, the wrappings were thinner than he originally thought. Shame soon shadowed over him, his hand retracting to his side and clenching the once-neatly made sheets. He shouldn't be doing this at all. Not when the origin of this came from a subordinate, a subordinate he shouldn't be thinking of in the first place.

He laid back down and shut his eyes tight, ignoring the panging throbs that were tempted to be relieved. He wouldn't let this issue bother him, so long as he can endure it. If he started something he would regret, then may the fallen god Orobaxi strike him down mercilessly.

Days turned into weeks and then into months. No matter how much he slept it off, tossing and turning restlessly in his bed, he was never able to get you out of his mind. He tried to avoid you as well, attempting to limit the interactions to important business only but it seemed that luck had never been on his side to begin with.

It was you who was always initiating, asking if your form is right as you held up the polearm in a perfect defensive stance, making him come to you and press his body against yours to fix your positioning. It was you who was always questioning whether or not a planned attack was coming soon, eyes lighting up as he mentioned a hint of any sort of battle. It was always you. Even when he was trying to map out positions on where a possible vantage point could be in his housing, he'd hear you approach the door and question him about what was arranged for tomorrow.

Some days, he wouldn't let you in. Gorou would tell you that he's busy at the moment and like a good little soldier, you obeyed his request and began to speak behind the barrier. What you didn't know was that his hand was pressing against his bulge as you spoke, biting his lip as he tried to keep himself quiet. His high morals always bit at him, making it so he could never bring himself to finish, a painful shame bleeding into the depths of his soul.

Whenever he heard your voice, it was like something was injected into his veins every single time you spoke to him. Your smell was even worse for him, his tail curling whenever you passed by him. And those eyes, God those eyes. Staring at him like he was the light of your life, turning into little half moons whenever you smiled at him. Everything about you ignited something truly terrible within him and he was addicted, the feverish heat never truly going away as you finally left his doorstep.

Her Excellency was worried about his change of state, telling him that he can take a break if he needed one. She noticed the sweat pool and drip down his flushed out and dazed face, even when the weather was fair and he barely moved an inch besides the occasional shuffle of his legs and tail. He couldn't, he wouldn't, not when the war was still going on. What would she think if he confessed to her about what he was doing to the thought of one of her soldiers?

You were a compelling distraction. A small bump in the road, a large sinkhole that he was struggling to get out of, slipping in deeper with every miserable attempt. The constant arousal and burning heat had diverted his busy mentality, only focusing on how his cock was aching and stirring for any sort of release. It was to the point where he started missing out on his other job, papers and requests piling up on his desk until his incompetence began to not go unnoticed.

‘•.¸♡ ♡¸.•’'•.¸♡ ♡¸.•’'•.¸♡ ♡¸.•’

"My, my, my. I haven't smelled this kind of scent in years, no wonder my best writer has been slacking in his duties." A disappointed but amused tut had Gorou's tail bristling from the sound of a familiar voice, ears flicking and head turning towards the now-opened door. A decorative fan hid her face but he knew all too well who it was based on the red-colored shrine maiden outfit and the long muted pink hair.

"Lady Guuji! You're not supposed to be here on enemy lines." He got up from his desk and quickly closed the door behind her, nails digging into the wood as a pang of warmth ran through his body. Miko closed her fan and walked over to his desk, pushing and prodding papers around with it as she slightly clicked of her tongue. Shit, has he really been that distracted?

"Oh Gorou, as far as I know, the Grand Narukami Shrine sides with no one in this war. I just wanted to see why the aspiring Ms. Hina hasn't been sending over her column responses like usual, you know she's usually so punctual with her postings! But now, I can see — no — smell why." She sniffed the air once more, his cheeks growing redder by the second.

"It reeks of your rutting stench in here, would you be so kind and open up a window for me?"

He obeyed and barely cracked two of his windows open, his tail still puffed up with anxiety as she sighed with displeasure. "You can't just wait this out you silly little pup, you need a release in order for it to go away."

"Re... release?"

Miko blinked once then once more. As if she finally came to a realization, a smug smile grew, her purple eyes glowing with amusement. "Don't tell me this is your first rut, dear Gorou?"

Rut. He heard of it before, the desire to breed whoever his body had chosen as his sworn mate. His father had mentioned it long ago when he was a young teenager but he originally thought that he was excluded from the effects. Why did you have to pop up now, out of all times?

"I'm surprised that you haven't jumped on your beloved leader when it started, I must applaud you for the amount of self-control you have in yourself." Clapping her hands in false praise, he was tempted to snap back at his other boss for assuming that he would ever treat Her Excellency that way when a knock filled the room. Her attention was now at the front door, one of her ears twitching with interest.

"Afternoon Gorou! I have something I want to tell you, may I come in?" He wanted to tear his ears right out of his head, the same uncomfortable warmth bleeding through his skin like an infection. He could already feel the starting familiar stir within the confines of his bandages. He felt like screaming or crying, maybe even both.

Out of all times?! Miko made her way towards the door before he could realize it and nearly opened it, cracks of the outside sunlight peering through. His body collided with the heavy wooden door without him realizing how speedily he reached it, a startled and surprised cry coming out of the other side as he slammed it back shut. Fuck, you sounded so cute.

"Gorou? Are you alright?" You asked, concern lacing within your words and he chuckled internally, already imagining your eyebrows scrunching together.

"Y-yes, I'm fine! Sorry about that, I tripped on my... m-my rut— I mean my rug— yes, my r-rug." He winced afterwards, embarrassed of his unprofessional behavior. A stifled giggle was heard behind him and a low growl came out of him in return, blue eyes narrowed as he shot a look at the pink-haired kitsune.

"Um, okay. Is it fine for me to come in then?" He could feel his hard-on throb, the lack of touch and urge to be in something warm irritating him. Yet the Guuji was still in the room, waiting for him to be finished with this conversation, as much as he still wanted to talk to you. His forehead pressed against the door, eyes closed as he tried to imagine what you looked like behind there.

"No, sorry not today. I-I'm awfully busy, paperwork's been piling up." He was met with silence and then a soft sigh, the tip of his tail twitching.

"Oh. Okay, sorry to bother you again Gorou. I..." There was a light sound of shuffling and two turns, as if you had something else to say. "I'll — um — I'll ask you another day then. Good luck."

The sounds of dirt crushing under your boots slowly began to fade away and he finally let out a relieving sigh, laughter exploding behind him and suddenly all his nerves were on high once more.

"Hah! You haven't chosen the priestess, you chose a soldier. A nice smelling one at least. Why haven't you made your move huh? I'm losing precious Mora because of your interest in her." Miko teased, the sound of her sandals clicking on the floor as she moved around in the small space.

"First of all, I would be abusing my authority. I'd just be taking advantage of her and her respect towards me, God knows if she'd report me for being an absolute disgusting pervert." His fist clenched against the door, waiting for his body to calm down before he faced the fox yokai. Every little cell was begging for him to go and chase after you, to finally, finally claim you as his. A small voice of logic had still made its presence known however, whispering the futures of every consequence that could occur if he had chosen to follow his urges.

"Play your cards right then doggy, you have all the power and control compared to her. And it seems that your patience is waning thin." She ruffled through his bed and with the tips of her fingers, she carefully fished out a small piece of cloth from behind his pillow, a deep color of scarlet burning in his cheeks as he finally turned towards her.

It was an accident, he didn't mean to grab it when he was making his normal rounds. He wasn't supposed to be near the bathhouse but his thoughts were suddenly clouded with a searing appetite, one that he was unable to resist. He didn't even realize that he had grabbed the neatly folded white panty from the bench, his conscious suddenly clearing when the tip of his cock was messily spilling pre-cum all over it when he made it to his home.

Gorou snatched it from her and shoved it into his pocket, a furious snarl suddenly slipping through his bared teeth. He himself jumped at the sheer sound of it, putting another hand over his lips as Miko stared at him in shock before laughing once more.

"This is why I hired you, you keep surprising me general." She sighed pleasantly after, pretending to wipe a tear. She was extremely humored with his heinous actions, as if she didn't care at all that what he was doing was any short of shameful. Miko made her way finally out, her hand on the knob not before looking back at her underling.

"And Gorou?" He flinched, his shoulders tensed.

"Yes?"

"My advice is get rid of your rut, no matter what it takes. You don't want to hurt that little soldier, right? So get her in your bed before your instincts do."

‘•.¸♡ ♡¸.•’'•.¸♡ ♡¸.•’'•.¸♡ ♡¸.•’

Even if Miko had told him he should, Gorou couldn't bring himself to do it.

He had merely yielded, telling Her Excellency that he hadn't been feeling well recently and she agreed to let him sort himself through his "illness". She gave him some remedies and medicines, occasionally checking in on him when she wasn't busy planning. None of her treatments were working but she never gave up. News of him succumbing to a sudden sickness had spread through the ranks but their Divine Priestess had told them not to bother him while he was recovering, which he deeply appreciated.

He had locked himself in whenever she left, placing a chair against the knob to prevent any outsiders from entering and each of the windows were nailed shut. Even if he did open a window for a needed draft, he'd still be burning awfully hot. Plus, he didn't need the others to know why he was moaning and groaning in supposed pain. It sucked, everything about this sucked. Maybe if he had just a small taste of you, everything would go back to normal.

No. From the start, nothing about you was normal to him. Every time he thought about you, the heat would get worse and his already-sore dick would swell back to life. Were you thinking about him right now? Did you miss him? Gorou wasn't the type to get envious easily, but the rise of his rut enhanced those feelings to the max. He despised the image about you moving on to other soldiers, especially the higher ups. None of them were as kind and thoughtful as he was, clawing at his pillows at the idea of your sparkly eyes looking at someone else.

He couldn't do much to keep you away from those men, all he was able to do was finish up what he was behind with for Yae Miko and rest everything away, relieving what he can without a complete release. Would the ache go away if he finally did cum? Ugh, part of him wished she had explained this thing to him more but having your boss explain the birds and the bees for their kind would be horrifyingly embarrassing.

Nighttime rolled into the camp once more, his eyes shut in frustration and his hands restlessly grabbing and pushing around his sheets. He couldn't sleep, the pangs getting worse and his brain continuously fogging. If he went on a walk to try and clear his mind, he didn't trust himself not to walk into the sleeping quarters and not take you right there. So he decided to bathe instead, running cold water until it reached the right amount.

Since he wasn't on duty at the moment, there was no hassle in removing his garments, though he did keep the bandage wrappings on since somewhat helped control his urges. He carefully unraveled the cloth, shuddering as his already hardened cock sprung out of its restraints and lightly tapped against the skin beneath his belly button. Trying to ignore it, he stepped into the tub and sighed in relief as the water chilled his overheated body.

Only a few seconds passed by and he couldn't resist not looking. Observing himself, he felt strangely foreign seeing a swollen ball near the base of his dick as he bathed in the cool water of his tub. It was just as sensitive as the rest of him, exhaling a quiet whimper as his fingers brushed against it. As if something nefarious had suddenly grabbed ahold of him, his hand slowly wrapped around the shaft above the rounded flesh and began to stroke himself, the water rippling as he shivered from the feeling.

This was the first time he ever touched himself in this manner, his head arching against the rim as he tediously ran his thumb over the reddened, leaking tip. Despite the water, he could feel the smooth glide of the slick that was continuously leaking out of him. His canines gnawing at the side of his lips, eyes focused on the languid strokes. It was almost torturously slow pace, a building pressure forming at the pit of his lower abdomen.

This was bad, very bad. He needed to stop right now before he crossed a line into sin, an inescapable downturn into hell itself. But it felt so good, so so good.

Gorou panted, his mind forming the image that you were in the bath with him, that you were the one slowly stroking him off. He could feel the heat crawl up his chest to his cheeks, seeing your hooded gaze on him. Despite your training, your hands were always so soft compared to his callused hands. Was it because of the lotion that you used after bathing? God he missed your scent, the panty that he took was already losing your smell.

He let out a low groan as he thought about your flowery aroma and without thinking, he started to mutter your name. His hips bucked against his hand, the bulbous swelling preventing him from going further down to the base. With every rough movement, the water splashed out of the tub.

He imagined you teasing him, telling him that he's going to run the tub dry if he kept on moving so much. Still pretending that you were his hand, he began to pick up his pace, your name on his lips growing louder and louder. You called him a filthy general, asking him how he could think of you in such a way for a lowly soldier, simple cannon fodder. You then asked him why he decided to steal your used panty and he only could muster up a weak apology. He begged you not to tell the others, not to tell Her Excellency that he wanted you, that he thought of you for so long that it was poisoning him and his very soul. Gorou wanted you so badly but you were unobtainable, someone he could never touch. He loves his job, he really does but he loves you even more.

You finally kissed him, the faint traces of his ghastly imagination touching his lips. His pathetic chanting ceased as a blinding white painted his vision, his face contorting and crying out in agonizing pleasure. The waves of his sudden orgasm flowed through his veins as he gripped the side of the tub. He felt the material crack under his palm, bits of it crumbling onto his fingertips. His ears flattened against the side of his head and his tail had wrapped itself tightly around his leg, his breathing uneven and slow.

Gorou finally opened his eyes, his mouth still parted open in a quiet breathless pant as he looked down into the water. A white substance flowed around him, his red face contorting to mild disgust. Short feelings of drowsiness and a small sense of relief that the pain was gone ebbed throughout his body. He unwrapped his hand from his shaft, slightly twitching from the lost feeling.

In a slow realization, he then registered that the burning simply did not die out. No, it almost felt like it had gotten worse. The warmth crawled up his stomach and flushed around his face, the once-cold water now displeasingly lukewarm. He could imagine the sinking fangs of Orobaxi pierce his soul and label him as tainted, a sinner. A small part of him felt no regret, that this is what was meant to happen but most of him — if not all — had a sinking, devastated feeling. He shouldn't have done this, especially with you in mind.

There was a small knock on the door as he got out of the tub from his second bath, almost inaudible if he hadn't had these ears of his.

Weird. No one should be up around this hour, they would most certainly get in trouble if he catches them. He huffed, rolling his eyes. Pranking the sick general, are we? Gorou quickly wrapped himself up with a towel tightly around his waist, approaching the front door with light caution.

"Hello? State your name and purpose." He called out through the closed door, ears perked and twitching around for any signs of life. Maybe it was just a passing animal.

"Gorou? It's just me, Y/N. Are you okay?" Fuck. He's so utterly fucked.

"Uh y-yeah, why wouldn't I be? You shouldn't be out of the sleeping quarters, I won't be able to save you if you get caught." He tried to be as stern as possible but the growing mass underneath his towel was starting to make it difficult to think.

You softly laughed and he could imagine you shaking your head. "Don't worry, I'm sneakier than you think. And I wanted to check on you because I heard yelling coming from your direction. I... I got worried since you're still ill."

Gorou's heart was leaping out of joy. You were thinking about him? Of course you'd worry about him, it was part of your character wasn't it? He could feel his hands grasp at the chair holding the door, almost tempted to rip it out of the way.

"I know I'm not the best at medicinal assistance like Her Excellency but I want to help you. I feel bad not being able to do much besides train without your guidance." You quietly mentioned and his mind suddenly blanked, the heat crawling up his nerves and limbs.

"I do need your help actually."

"Y-you do? Well, I'll do anything to help you get better sir."

Anything, huh?

Gorou pulled the chair away from the door and opened the door, finally seeing you. The glow of his lantern-lit room highlighted your features, admiring seeing your hair down and your sleeping attire loose on your body. He couldn't be more grateful for your naïve willingness. His little idiotic soldier.

He grabbed your shoulder and tugged you into his home, almost slamming the door shut before you could have any change of mind. Your eyes widened as you soon realized that he was fully exposed, his towel barely covering his throbbing lower half. He let you drink in the scars and the muscles he's worked hard to achieve before he finally made a move.

"Wha—" Barely a sound was able to escape you before he collided his lips against yours, bodies toppling over into the wooden ground. In the haze of his lust, he felt terrible that you may have hit your head onto the ground but your mouth was so warm and your lips were so plush that all of his empathy was washed away.

His hands grabbed at the thin pajama pants the military provided for every soldier and ripped them off of you. He made quick work at removing his towel, his heavily aroused cock springing out and brushing against your covered cunt. He could see through hooded eyes that although you were most definitely confused, your fear could barely hide the arousal pooling behind your pupils.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry." He whispered frantically against your lips as he tore off the white panties, almost salivating as he felt his tip catch onto your bare warmth. A few ruts against your pussy lips and he could already feel some slick gather against his shaft, not knowing if you were getting aroused or that was just his own pre-cum leaking down and making a complete mess.

Slowly or at least, as slowly as he thought he was going, he pushed the head inside. A long and relieved whine came out of him and your back arched, body pressing against his as you cried out from the sudden intrusion. Swiftly, his mouth enveloped yours to quiet you down. It would be a shame if any other soldiers made their way to his home, but then again, he could make them disappear without a single trace left behind. Curiosity is such a fickle thing to have as a soldier, it could end them up dead in a nameless pit or in your instance, speared by a horny general.

His head threw back as he began to thrust shallowly in quick succession, the knot preventing him from going any deeper much to his displeasure. Gorou had never felt such an indulgence in his life, he thought his little session in the tub earlier was everything but this? He could live with the sins building upon his shoulders as long as he could relish in your warmth for eternity.

Your hands gripped on the rug above you, clawing and grasping at it for dear life, moaning aloud as his cock dragged against your walls. The blouse that you were wearing was slowly loosening with every sharp movement he made against you, revealing your chest that he could never bear to look at before. He peeled back the fabric and grabbed one of your breasts, squeezing once before leaning in and sucking on the pert nipple.

His tail twitched in bold satisfaction as you started to whine out his name, begging him to go deeper.

"Yeah? You want that soldier?" His voice rumbled against your nipple, feeling you clench around his shaft as he spoke.

"Y-yes! Please, please just a little more." Obeying, he snapped his hips harder against the plushness of your thighs, the knot pushing and budging against your tight hole. You hissed at the sudden realization of the circular muscle swollen around the bottom of his shaft, but you didn't try to stop him.

Would it fit? No, it had to fit. You will fit him. His hands grabbed your hips, pulling you in until you were flushed against his waist. His mouth left your chest, moving towards muscle in between your neck and shoulder. Gorou wasn't going to leave you unmarked, the whole goddamn camp was going to know who he knocked his pups into. It would serve some good to the island, Orobaxi would be pleased to have new followers right?

"Gonna fuck — hah — gonna fuck you up, breed you full of cum. You're my mate, mine." He growled into your ear before he bit down into your flesh. At the same time, he forced his knot into you and clawed the plushness of your hips.

Your pussy stretched and gripped around the enlarged knot, trying to accommodate the sudden thickness. He could barely see your eyes rolling to the back of your head as you came, your walls spasming and milking his cock for his hot cum. Wanton moans were the only noise you were able to make as he continued to fuck deeply into you, his tongue licking at the inflicted mark.

The same pressure in his lower stomach that he felt in the tub overrode his system and he pushed his dick in a little more, feeling the tip hit against a barrier. White stars blinded his vision immediately, his body shivering and shaking as he came hard into your womb. He took in heavy breaths, resting his head in the crook of your neck.

The burning was gone, he could finally feel the air in his room as it cooled down both of your bodies. It was gone but he wasn't done yet, no, he was far from it. Now that he had finally had a taste, he wasn't going to let you leave, not when he had bound himself to you. Figuratively and literally.

His pupils were blown out with pleasure, the blue color barely making its presence known as he began to kiss up your neck. You were barely there, eyes heavy with sleep but still groaning as he began to move once more, walls too sensitive to handle anymore. That's okay, he would breed you in your sleep if he had to.

" 'm gonna put more pups into you." His words slurred as he lazily thrusted, his knot pulling and pushing into a particular nerve bundle. You could only whine in agreement, completely engrossed and fucked out on his cock as you quivered from the stimulation.

Gorou will take real good care of you. What was he thinking before? A general always will need his soldier, what a fool he was for trying to believe that he never wanted you. A rope can only be tightened so much before it inevitably snaps. You belonged here in his home, warming his bed so he could take you whenever he returned from the battlefield. He picked his head up from your neck, kissing you deeply once more.

You were truly a heaven-sent blessing, weren't you? As fate may have it, he had hope that Orobaxi and Her Excellency would bless the both of you with a beautiful litter.

#tw: yandere #tw: dubcon #tw: abuse of power #yandere #yandere genshin impact #yandere genshin #yandere gorou #yandere gorou x reader #yandere x female reader #yandere male x reader #yandere male #yandere x reader #yandere imagines #yandere genshin imagines #genshin impact imagines #genshin imagines #gorou #gorou x reader #reader insert #fem reader

[tadpole-apocalypse]

Here’s a little artist update thing:

Finally starting to feel caught up on things. I’m hoping I can discipline myself enough to get through my last few commissions very soon, though I’m not going to be able to finish them by the end of the month like I’ve planned. But I am seeing the end tunnel finally, and then a well earned break so I can work on my personal projects again. There’s a few people who never responded back to my notification that my spots were open so…sorry if you missed the window. I’m too overwhelmed to add anyone in that I haven’t given a confirmation to in dms.

My car is a total loss. Not sure what I’m going to do about that yet. My bruising is almost gone though. At least no one was injured and I was able to walk away from the accident…it’s all I can ask for at the moment. I have to start looking into buying a new vehicle now.

I went thru a bunch of mail yesterday that I had hoarded for months (the Task) including several medical bills I’ve been ignoring. I have a terrible awful habit of just hiding things I don’t want to deal with to get them out of my sight and bills and mail triggers this impulse a lot. I’m working on it. Yesterday I opened all my mail and paid off what needed to be paid. Ugh. 😞

#just talking

[averagepsychouser]

I bet Vulpes has terrible trigger discipline that mf be seconds away from shooting his own foot at any given moment

“Don’t worry, I won’t have you lashed to a cross like the rest of these degenerates. It’s useful you happened 💥 BY CAESAR MY BIG TOE IS GONE”

#I’m so tored #I thonk I’m agonan be sick in the morning #Auugh #fallout new vegas #fallout nv #caesar’s legion #vulpes inculta #fnv vulpes

[sysmedsaresexist]

A note about the shame "criteria"

I think a lot of people get a little confused about what kind of shame is in question

It's not what you think

Understanding Shame - And so the purpose of shame is actually survival: shame teaches us to avoid behaviours that would see us excluded from the group. And shame puts the brake on behaviours that provoke more attack.

Trauma survivors have (typically) spent their entire lives being disregarded, ignored, disbelieved. It's very normal for survivors to feel out of place, misunderstood, and very, very alone.

They often do their best to minimize their symptoms and act like things are better than they are, typically refusing to seek or accept help, they often blame themselves for the things that happened to them (as children, no less), they're often embarrassed admitting that those things happened, and talking about specifics can be so upsetting and you can't help but hate yourself for not being stronger.

Shame comes in so many flavours... Attack self is a huge one. Withdrawal. Avoidance.

Maybe you were frequently called out in front of the class for severe dissociation daydreaming-- now you're afraid of having any kind of attention on you, and you really wish your partner would stop looking at you like that, why are they looking at you, something hurts but you don't know what

Maybe because of how often you were called out, you tried to ask for help but were told that you're overreacting, things aren't that bad, you should be more grateful, and now you're embarrassed and really don't want to tell your new therapist how much you're actually struggling, because she might think you're lying, and you probably are just making a big deal out of nothing

Maybe you struggle to pay attention to your best friend venting to you because Dissociation™️, and that's clearly your fault, you're the problem in the friendship-- but then again, haven't you always been the problem?

Maybe you struggle with relationships-- sex is painful after what happened, and you haven't found a partner patient enough to figure it out-- you're giving up hope that anyone could love you

Maybe one of your alters absolutely lost it on a very good friend, and now you have to deal with the consequences without telling them too much about what's really going on, but at this point they're suspicious and they're telling all your other friends you're crazy. Maybe you are?

Maybe you opened up to someone you thought you could trust, but the look in their eyes has you backpedaling, wishing you had never opened your mouth-- you desperately hope nothing will change between you two, and you know better now

Maybe you're ashamed that you're a system because the media says that's fucked up, what happened to you was fucked up, and all your individual budding symptoms of DID were scrutinized and corrected and disciplined and pushed aside that by the time you realized what was happening, you already knew better than to talk about it

Or maybe you just feel ashamed because you love your system, the terrible gift left behind after your experiences

If you can relate to this, these are all forms of distress, dysfunction, and shame, and they are totally normal and understandable. They count. It doesn't need to be hating your system. It doesn't need to embarrassment.

And shame doesn't need to define you.

Mandatory reading/watching

Starting with positivity:

What if shame is nothing to be ashamed of … but instead is the hero in our story?

The most accurate depiction of shame I've ever read

What do you need? - Shame in therapy

The Differences in Dissociation Triggered by Shame and Terror – and How to Work with Each - A clinician's take on shame

#syscourse #dissociative identity disorder #did #OSDD #actuallydissociative #actuallydid #actuallyosdd #actuallytraumagenic #shame

[popironrye]

Renfield and Teddy, but they're butch women!

Oh I wanted to genderbent Renfield characters again but I wanted to keep the clothes from their male counterparts. So now, they're butch. XD I drew Fem!Renfield's new hair referencing a picture of Kristian Stewart with the same cut, and whoo! I love it. <3 Gay I am. For Teddy, his female version also has terrible gun etiquette. XD Putting a loaded weapon down the front of her pants?! And what's with that terrible trigger discipline?

#renfield #dracula #renfield 2023 #renfield movie #fanart #my art #teddy lobo #tedward lobo #robert montague renfield #genderbend #genderswap #art #rule 63

[precious-little-scoundrel]

I'm on a Buck and Maureen high right now reading though all your asks 🥰🥰

Do you think Buck's ever had to fight the urge to... finish early... while making out with and getting handsy with Maureen?

Oh me too, me too!

Oh Nonnie, the thing of it is, I love Gale so much I usually end up saddling him with some hang ups (or naturally occurring little hurdles I actually find endearingly human) and so, usually, this man is not a sex god in my book. Certainly not at first. Where’s the fun in that anyway?

But to take it further, he terribly wants to last longer, and he’s got a lot of determination and the ability to refuse himself many things so, he makes a valiant effort. But so much of that discipline has been in regards to enduring hard things for a good outcome. This is enduring bliss for…a good outcome. And he’s shit at it. And Maureen is enamored with his hair trigger responses.

So, I totally think he comes untouched from touching and tasting her, he sometimes has trouble getting hard when she paws at him but once she’s got him aroused he’s toast. So fast it’s an absolute joke but at the same time, what’s he got to compare it to? He’d gonna mumble she’s just too good, he’s just too terribly excited around her, she’s just too much. And then get back to pleasing her, it’s what he loves most.

#Gale x maureen #those who can

[saintsenara]

If your still doing snape asks

50 35 41 40 🕺

thank you for the ask, @notsosecrettunnel

35. do you have a snape brotp?

snape and lucius malfoy.

i don’t subscribe to all the fanon which surrounds these two (i don’t - for example - accept the headcanon that snape is draco’s godfather) but i see no reason why we should doubt that narcissa’s description of snape as ‘lucius’ old friend’ is sincere.

something i see a lot - especially from writers whose interest is in the characters aligned with the order - is the idea that the death eaters are all out for themselves and (outside of some fanatical outliers, such as bellatrix) that they have no genuine loyalty either to voldemort or to each other.

not so, i fear. i really dislike the idea that the death eaters all turn on each other after voldemort’s death (i prefer to think that they frustrate the shacklebolt government profoundly by refusing to talk) and i really dislike the idea that they didn’t have profound, real friendships among themselves.

it’s obvious in canon that becoming a death eater offered snape a community he truly felt welcomed by for the first time (and i think it speaks highly of him that he was nonetheless prepared to lose that when he turned against voldemort) and, part of that, is that i think it’s important to believe that his friendship with lucius was real.

after all, he’s upset when harry names him as having been present at voldemort’s resurrection in goblet of fire…

40. other than lily, who do you think impacted snape's life the most?

lord voldemort.

i don’t just mean in that voldemort’s decision to go after lily is the trigger for snape upending his entire life, but also that voldemort is evidently the first person snape ever meets who takes him seriously. it’s clear from canon that voldemort is the only person the teenage snape knows who takes an active interest in improving his life - snape must become a death eater because voldemort offers him a chance to transcend the restrictive class structure which rips opportunities away from poor half-bloods unless they have a slughorn-esque patron, and also because voldemort understands and validates snape’s attitude towards and interest in magic and experimentation [and, indeed, that he shares this].

voldemort is obviously fond of snape (he must recognise so much of himself in him - feral working-class children with muggle names and disappointing dads need to stick together, after all) and he appears to have offered him intensive training - in the dark arts, obviously, but given that voldemort describes himself in goblet of fire as someone who dabbles with inventing potions, why not that discipline too - which the adult snape makes use of throughout his teaching career.

plus - the adult snape clearly models how he speaks and comports himself (so, all the things about his demeanour which we most enjoy) on voldemort.

[seriously, they have near-identical speech patterns and they get a lot of the same movement and dialogue descriptors, which is cute.]

41. do you think that there is a side to snape that he doesn't let anyone see? what do you headcanon this "secret personality" to be like?

my hottest take?

what you see with snape is - generally - what you get.

i really dislike the preternaturally emotionally-repressed snape of fanon (and of the films - as i’ve written elsewhere, i think alan rickman played the character terribly…). the canonical snape is emotionally expressive, disinclined to pretend he likes or agrees with things he doesn’t, and someone whose feelings can often be read on his face. he keeps some things bottled up - of course - but i don’t think that, for example, his romantic partner is going to discover that he has a secret soft side (or, indeed, a secret capacity to be utterly horrible) which would sound completely, incomprehensibly out of character to anyone else they mentioned it to.

50. had snape lived, would he continue teaching at hogwarts?

ok so my other hot take… yes.

the standard wisdom in the fandom seems to be that snape loathes teaching, that he only stays in the job because he is compelled to by dumbledore as part of his spy duties, and that he feels imprisoned by hogwarts. and, obviously, the fact that he’s someone whose adult life is so relentlessly miserable in all other aspects supports the idea that he’d be miserable because of his professional circumstances too.

but…

the idea that snape hates teaching seems, to me, to stem from a misunderstanding about the narrative purpose he serves as a teacher in the series. because, while he’s certainly a cruel teacher - in keeping with his children’s literature archetype, the mean schoolmaster that the child reader can delight in seeing undermined - he’s also a good and committed one. his classes achieve extremely high results (he is able to insist on a pass rate from every pupil; he can fill his newt classes to capacity without having to lower his grade requirements), he is interested in improving the standard curriculum by modifying the potions he teaches, he clearly does take care to lead his classes through the theory of the subject (harry and ron just don’t listen to him), and he seems to take pride in his job (he’s pissed off when lockhart tries to muscle in on his turf; he delights in lording his professional expertise over umbridge).

all of which is to say… he’s back to sweeping around that dungeon the second the venom’s out of his bloodstream. slughorn’s delighted - he can retire for a second time and try and get a pineapple endorsement deal on the strength of having fought in the battle of hogwarts.

#snape ask game #asks answered

[arrrmagedonnn]

Ur ocs seem so interesting i wanna know more abt them!!

Thank you very much for the question!! I tried to write something about them,,,

Soooo, my oc's lore is based on the concept of slavery and sexual slavery, so if you have some kind of trigger to it, please don't read this! I don't want to offend someone, I just really love the master/slave dynamic haha

There are three main characters - Ethan (on the first pic), Mark (on the second) and Raphael ( he on the third with Mark).

Ethan has been a slave since birth, and has been sold to various places throughout his life. He lived on the estate for the first years of his life, then he was sold to a farm, where he worked until he turned 16. Ethan tried to escape, but he was immediately caught, whipped severely and sold to a third place - to a factory where cheap slave labor was exploited and where living conditions were absolutely terrible. Two years later, Mark, his third owner, takes him away from there.

Mark is a rich jerk from a very powerful family who owns the entire legal sphere of the slave trade (that is, the only market where you can legally buy or sell a slave). For many years, he used his position to freely use slaves for his own entertainment, which, in addition to sex, included cutting, beating, humiliation, and other forms of violence that eventually led either to the death of the slave, or to the fact that they were in such a state that they were no longer suitable for sale. So, he was forbidden to take expensive slaves for sale, and he had to look for someone cheaper who could be broken. And this slave turned out to be Ethan, who, despite his age, was already considered a "second-hand commodity" due to the fact that he tried to escape, knew how to have many masters, and did not have much physical strength.

Mark is only one of all the previous Ethan's masters who was able to win his endless love through emotional manipulation. Mark alternates punishments and beatings with attention and affection, which allows him to always keep Ethan on a short leash. Mark is extremely sophisticated in his punishments (although violence towards Ethan is not always based on his bad behavior, Mark often does it just for his entertainment), but at the same time he can be quite empathetic. His favorite methods of "discipline" - cutting, whipping, beating, isolation, forcing fo self harm and etc. Nevertheless, Ethan loves Mark very much, justifies all violence in his direction. Ethan considers himself fundamentally "wrong" and bad, believes that all punishments and violence towards him are done for his own good. Sooooo it is like the first part?? I feel SO NERVOUS to post this, because my writing skills are very poor, especially in English ahaha, so I think I will add some information later if you are intrested… And you can ask if you have any questions, thank you very much in advance

#oc #ocs

[kiwi224]

"– No one will help you, little sheep. We are a long way from the other houses. We're alone here, just you and me… together.— He says smiling as he takes you to her room, throwing you on her bed and tying your arms to it. He stares at you deeply, making you cringe.— People often say that discipline comes through pain, don't they? I think they're right."

Triggers: torture and violence

Little Sheep

You and Joel met near Jackson, when you were rescued and taken in by a group of explorers from the city. Joel was one of the explorers, who protected you with his life when Infected attacked the group. If you weren't so skeptical about love, you could even say it was love at first sight. "How pathetic", you think.

You're currently working at the bar, cleaning the counter and humming some 80's music, feeling a calmness you haven't felt in a long time. Joel walks into the bar, scowling as usual, his frown melting as he looks at you. His gaze turns reassuring, making you tug your lips into a smile.

–Good morning, little sheep.— You roll your eyes, chuckling at the nickname. Joel started calling you that when they had a conversation about which animal each would like to be. You said you fancied yourself a wolf, and he laughed in your face, saying you look more like a sheep. You were a little angry, but accepted the nickname gladly, thinking it was cute. — Working hard, huh?

I put the cloth on the counter, approaching him.– Yeah, it's quite busy here sometimes, but it's much better than running away from infected.— He sits on a bench in front of the counter. His eyes shine when they look into yours, and you feel welcomed by Joel, like you've never felt in your life.

You spend a few minutes talking about the event that took place at the bar the day before, noting the interesting things that happened, and laughing at your friends who got extremely drunk. You lean your arms on the counter, your eyebrows slightly furrowed.– Joel, have you seen Frederich? He didn't show up here today as usual.

Frederich is one of the explorers, who became your friend during those times you were in Jackson. He shows interest in you, hitting on you "jokingly" and other things like that, but you continue to treat him as a friend, since you don't return his feelings and enjoy your friendship.

Joel's smile fades slowly with the question, making you raise an eyebrow.– We did an expedition in the vicinity this morning, but then I didn't see him again.— His smile returns, but still not reassuring you. — Don't worry about that, little sheep. I've known him longer, he knows how to take care of himself.

I raise my eyebrows in surrender, letting the subject drop but still wondering why Frederich didn't come at his usual time; you care about him after all. You try to forget about it by going back to talking to Joel about other things.

•

It was the morning of the next day and you still hadn't seen your friend. This situation was already awkward, but it got even more so when you were summoned to patrol this morning. It was not their day to patrol, but they claimed that Frederich had disappeared. Everyone in Jackson was worried since he had disappeared on his mission.

– And who was he with, Maria?— You ask your patrol partner quietly, still finding this story strange.

— We don't know. There was a terrible blizzard, and we lost each other for a while. Later, when Tommy and Joel and I met, they said they didn't see Frederich anymore.

You frown, petting the horse you're riding to calm yourself down a bit.

– But Joel told me he didn't see him after the patrol, he didn't tell me the whole story.— Maria also frowns, smacking her lips as she brushes some snow off her shoulders.

– I don't know why he didn't tell. Maybe he wanted to calm you down. We sent another patrol in the afternoon to look for Frederich, maybe he didn't want to worry you unnecessarily.— She advances the pace with the horse, always assessing the environment carefully.— But now Frederich could definitely be in danger.

A few minutes later, you and Maria find an abandoned cabin, stopping to rest for a while, as the snow was now falling in great amounts. The icy wind was making your entire body shiver, but you continued to inspect the cabin, looking for any resources useful to the community.

You hear a whimper coming from one of the doors, instantly drawing your weapon, thinking it's a runner. You put your ear close to listen, then you recognize the voice. It sounded like Frederich's voice. You don't even think about the possible risks, opening the door with brutality. You see Frederich crouched hugging her legs as she wept; her body was almost entirely injured, and her expression showed pure horror. You can see a bite on her arm, making you freeze in her place. He notices you, his eyes never leaving you.

– You're here!— He crawls a little closer to you, and you notice that his legs are broken. His body is filled with anguish, realizing that you are seeing your friend about to die in front of you. He seems to be in a state of near madness in front of you.— Please, don't go near him...

You force yourself to ask.– Who?! I shouldn't get close to who?!— You approach, thinking about how to calm him down. He tries to get up, instantly regretting it with a grunt of pain.

–Joel...— He almost whispers, his voice trembling, filled with horror and fear.— He threw me to death, said that this way I would never come near you again... I swear, I didn't do anything! He threw me into an abyss full of infected, I got bitten, it's all his fault! I'm sorry, I'm sorry...

He starts crying desperately, putting his hands on his face. You stop midway, trying to process all the information.

– Joel did this to you?! - You ask incredulously, your voice starting to shake. - It's not possible, it's not...

You bend down to check your wounds, and he grabs your shoulders with such force that it hurts.– Give me your gun, please give me your gun...

– I won't give you my gun!— He ignores you, pulling the gun from his waist, and after that you close your eyes by instinct, hearing a deafening gunshot and then feeling a liquid splash on your face.

•

–Hey, are you listening to me?— Maria says in a worried voice, holding you as carefully as she can.

Your eyes are still glazed over somewhere. You've already arrived in Jackson, you're already in Maria's living room. You already told everything that happened, except the fact that Joel was accused by Frederich. You didn't have the strength to speak his name, and thoughts of him are still trapped in the cabin. You're completely gripped by horror, and in your head you're just more and more sure you'll never forget it.

Your thoughts go to Joel. Frederich had accused Joel of trying to kill him. You still couldn't believe his words, even though they were so frightening. Frederich was a playful guy, he liked to make up stories, but he would never make up something like that; accuse someone like that? It doesn't look like something he would do.

But you still can't believe it. Joel... The same man who protects you with all the love in the world... Trying to kill a man, your friend, because he was interested in you? No, that doesn't look real.

You hear the door to Maria's house open, seeing the person who is taking your thoughts at that very moment enter, completely stunned.

– Little sheep! I was told what happened, are you okay?! - You move away from him by reflex, making Maria's eyes widen. You're shaking, and the person you least want to see right now is in front of you, trying to get close to you.

– Get out.— You say with a shaky voice, feeling your face pale.

He frowns.– I won't hurt you, little sheep...

– I said get out!— You scream, getting up from the couch. You see both of them widen their eyes, and you're shaking so hard you feel like you're going to collapse at any moment, but you keep trying to hold on.

Maria is still standing there not knowing what to do, when someone calls her outside and she comes out, gently patting your shoulder with a smile, trying to comfort you. You follow Joel's cold gaze following Maria's movements, making you feel more terrified than ever.

He looks at you, a concerned look that now just makes you sick.– Okay, little sheep. Just rest, okay?

He looks at you one more time before walking out the door, giving you a chance to breathe a little easier.

•

It's been three days, and you haven't left the house. You don't have the courage to face people, and especially you don't have the courage to face... him. You think about it day and night, every moment. You can't eat or sleep well, and when you sleep, you have a night full of nightmares.

This was one of those nights. You get up to go to the bathroom, going to the kitchen to get a glass of water next.

As you drink some water, trying to forget the nightmare, you hear noises coming from the living room. Your legs start to shake to the point where it takes all your strength, but you remain still, trying to identify the sound.

You hear a door open, nearly knocking your glass out of your hand. You put the glass on top of the sink, trying to make as little noise as possible, while looking for a knife to defend yourself. When you turn back to the door, you see the terrifyingly familiar figure pointing a gun at you. Joel has an unreadable expression on his face, which scares you even more. You keep gripping the knife with all the strength in you, pointing it at him uselessly, as he is at greater power, wielding a ranged weapon.

– I didn't want to have to do this, little sheep, but you made me.— He approaches slowly, and the sound of his heavy shoes hitting the floor makes her head spin. You take a few steps back, bumping into the kitchen cupboard, feeling your stomach turn as you realize there's nowhere to escape. Tears start to escape your eyes. He continued to approach, not being intimidated by the knife in your hands, with a sweet smile that now made him look disgusting.— You don't need to cry, dear. I won't hurt you. Just put that knife down, okay?

You ignore his command and he, with a quick maneuver, disarms you, pointing the gun at your head again. His gaze suddenly turns dark.— You remain disobedient. What did Frederich tell you? Maria told me you saw him.

He holds your chin gently, contrasting with the brutality of his current attitude.– He said what I did to him, didn't he?! He said he would do anything to find you...— He purses his mouth, in disgust. - Pathetic.

You continue to cry, sobbing loudly. You were trapped under his terrifying gaze, you couldn't move.

But you try.

When you see that he deflects the gun a little from your head, you knee him in the stomach, but even stunned by the pain, he manages to grab your neck, taking your breath almost completely. He says coldly, loosening the grip on your neck a little, seeing that your face was turning red. – You are not cooperating, little sheep. Unfortunately, I'll have to make you follow my orders, even if it's through pain.

You hear a gunshot echo in the room, grunting in pain as you feel your foot hit by a bullet. The pain leaves you completely bewildered, allowing Joel to carry you. You begin to struggle with what strength you have left, crying desperately as you scream for help.

– No one will help you, little sheep. We are a long way from the other houses. We're alone here, just you and me… together.— He says smiling as he takes you to her room, throwing you on her bed and tying your arms to it. He stares at you deeply, making you cringe.— People often say that discipline comes through pain, don't they? I think they're right.

You see your surroundings split into flashes, knowing it's the agonizing pain in your foot and the loss of blood that's making you dizzy. Suddenly, you see Joel holding a bat.

– I'll prepare the bed for you. How about getting some sleep in the meantime, little sheep? I think it will do you good.— You can barely understand what he said, feeling a sharp pain erase your senses.

•

– Oh, you're finally woke up. It's been a long night, hasn't it, dear?— You listen, feeling a pulsing pain in your face, making you whimper in pain. Your arms and legs are chained to the bed, and you see your injured foot with a bandage, still struggling to understand if it all really happened or was one of your nightmares. You see Joel smiling, walking towards you, just not making your eyes widen because you can't open them without feeling pain.— I made you an amazing breakfast, I hope you like it.

You scan the place over and over again, starting to feel the anxiety rise in your chest with each place you look. Your window and door are locked with huge padlocks, and your bed is stained with your own blood. Your breathing quickens in desperation, and you feel only pain in your neck from Joel's grip on it. He follows her gaze to his bed, running his hand over the stain gently, as if this isn't all his fault.

–Oh, I'm sorry about this mess, little sheep.— He looks at you, but you look away. You can't look at that monster for a second longer.— I promise I'll change your bedding soon.

– Why are you doing this?!— You say in a thin voice.— Just leave me alone, please, leave me alone...

He approaches, but you can't move away because you're chained. He caresses your face, and you feel your stomach lurch in disgust.— No... I want to protect you, little sheep. I promised I would protect you at any cost, didn't I?

– You want to protect me from what?! It's you who's hurting me! You... You did that with Frederich...— You swallow hard— I'll do whatever you want, just let me go... I don't talk about any of this to anyone, just get me out of here, please ...–You appeal to pity, hoping it works.

– I only hurt you because you were being mean to me. I won't have to do this anymore if you obey me, dear.—You see he lowered his guard, continuing to caress her face. You hear knocking downstairs, feeling a hint of hope but refraining from screaming for help for the moment.

– I'll answer the door. Be quiet here, okay?— He squeezes her arm with a cold stare.— Or I'll be forced to hurt you and our visitor.

You hear him coming down the stairs, then voices from downstairs. You hear Maria's voice, but you can't scream. For fear of Joel and for fear of Maria suffering the consequences, because you know that Joel would kill her in any slip up. But, surprisingly, you hear a commotion from downstairs; screams and gunshots. You ignore your entire train of thought, focused on not making any noise, now screaming at the top of your lungs for help. You hear Maria screaming downstairs, and soon you hear more gunshots. You feel a wave of dread wash over you when you hear slow, shuffling footsteps coming up the stairs.

It Didn't work. You ruined everything.

You killed Maria.

You cringe when you see the door open, but you can't believe it when you see Maria in the doorway, her leg bleeding.

–I knew he had done something. You didn't tell me, but I put the pieces together. He...— She chokes on her own speech, with an agonized look at you.— What the fuck did he do to you...

You start to cry.

You cry as she unties you.

You cry more when she hugs you.

And you're still crying as you walk past Joel's body, shot in the forehead, blood seeping all over his face.

And you feel that, even now that you are free, you will cry for the rest of your life remembering that day.

#yandere #joel miller #joel x reader #no romance #the last of us #fanfic #angst with a happy ending #angst

[ggidolsmuts]

14 million dollar bounty on your head, and 80% of the world’s assassin population is after you. Your only out? A marker, a binding contract for a someone to help you out temporarily in an out-of-reach situation. Which idol do you think would be the best gunslinger?

APink Naeun because she has an AR

I looked at many pics from many different idols, they all have terrible trigger discipline XD

#asks