minasvalentine

[minasvalentine]

A man with a pretty face and a slutty waist.

[minasvalentine]

His Game • Spencer’s masterlist • main masterlist

Stockholm Syndrome

chapter 5 • back to chapter 4

chapter summary; testing each other, learning about your own trust. You’re developing some type of positive feeling toward Spencer, and he’s quick to prove to you just how much he appreciates it.

warnings: dark themes, smut, kidnapping, manipulative behaviour, dubcon, overstimulation, dacryphilia, oral (r receiving), fingering (r receiving), unprotected sex, marking

wordcount: 4K

The room was dark when you woke up, hummed and stretched, arms covering the expanse of the bed. the opposite side of the bed wasn’t made, where Spencer had slept after the movies.

You basked in the bed that smelled like Spencer, smelled like your captor. You smiled and pressed your face into his pillow, it smelled even more like him. You remembered his lips on your lips, his hands on your waist.

A loud slam, the heavy door close outside. He’d gone. Your stomach dropped. You remembered him pistol-whipping you, remembered his thumb pressing into your wound.

  You scrambled out of bed, eyes brimming with tears. You hated to be alone, you wanted so badly for him to just stay. Tiptoeing to the bedroom door, you pulled it open, sighing loudly with relief when you saw him there.

  The understanding of the danger and severity of your situation was lost from you the second you locked eyes with him. Your chest burning with a pleasurable warmth and the tears in your eyes shifting into a comfortable glaze.

  "Good morning Angel." He greeted you, smile on his thin lips. He placed a takeout bag on the small island and you deduced that the sound of the door closing was him returning rather than leaving. You watched him pull food from the bag, fresh, straight from the diner you loved so much.

  You smiled sweetly and walked over to him, sitting at the island where he placed the food in front of you. You thanked him and he smiled wider at you.

  He stood behind you as you ate, moving your hair so it wouldn't rub against your skin as he pet it. One of his hands pet your hair and the other rested against your collarbone, encouraging you to lean back against his chest.

  It was so comfortable, warm and safe. It was terribly domestic, him loving on you while you ate food he got for you because he knew you loved it. It was enough to take away from the fact that you were being pet by your kidnapper, no idea where you were.

  When you finished, you leaned back against Spencer's chest completely. He hummed softly and wrapped his arms around you, hugging you and kissing the crown of your head. "I have to go."

  "What?" You pouted up at him before he'd even finished speaking and he pouted back at you, half mockingly.

  "I have to go, for work." He said shortly and you huffed. You really didn't want him to leave. You feel like you should be grateful that you get to be left alone, that Spencer would leave. But you dreaded it. Those five days he was gone drove you insane.

  Somewhere in the back of your mind also, you knew that if he wasn't there with you, you would have some clarity, you would be fully aware of how scared you should be, how dangerous Spencer is. You didn't want that clarity.

He grabbed a notebook and pen from his satchel and sat next to you. "You need more things to do when you're alone, I know that you'll get bored quickly, I imagine it was difficult while I was gone before." He spoke and you nodded.

With that you and Spencer curated a list of things he could bring back for you. Movies to watch, a sketchbook and drawing supplies, toys for Milo, cards, and a few other small things. You were grateful and looked forward to the new things. You were so lucky you figured. You saw so many kidnapping victims who were dirty and hurt, used, cold and hungry. But here you were, warm and clean, full from food you loved, writing up a list of things so you could have more fun. And the bruise Spencer gave you was almost entirely healed.

You started to feel sick, remembering the kidnapping victims you'd saved, the ones you hadn't saved. People just like you who'd been taken by people just like Spencer.

Spencer tapped your chin and you turned to look at him, the eye contact working wonders for your new anxiety. You didn't feel any resentment to him, no fear, you no longer felt sick. Still you felt more aware.

"Do you want me to bring any books for specific topics? So you can study? That could be fun." It was a very 'Spencer' thing, studying for fun. "You're interested in learning about entomology, right?" You nodded and he wrote it down. "What else?"

"Stockholm Syndrome." You rasped and the look Spencer gave you made your blood run cold.

"Do you think you are developing Stockholm syndrome?" You couldn't read his emotions at all. You heard excitement, remorse, guilt, disgust, hope.

"I don't know. Let me learn more about it and we'll find out." You had an attitude that hadn't been there since the first day you arrived.

"Are you developing Stockholm Syndrome?" He asked again, tense.

"When was the last time you went to see your mother?" You asked. You weren't concerned about his mother, you wanted to redirect him, bring up his mom so he would stop interrogating his victim.

And still, the look of guilt and sadness that took over his face made you regret it. His shoulders slumped and the corners of his mouth dipped down just slightly.

You frowned and timidly brought a hand to his face, holding his cheek gently and flinching when he leaned toward your touch. "I'm sorry Spencer." Your voice broke, you wanted to cry. You hated that you made him upset, you were terrified that he'd hurt you as punishment.

"It's alright angel." He put the list in his pocket and stood, you stood with him, following him to the door.

You pouted up at him, you still didn't really want him to leave. He smiled down at you and leaned down to kiss your forehead. You leaned up into his lips and he smiled against your skin. He proceeded to look over your face after that, gaze switching between your eyes and lips. He leaned down and kissed you. Deeper than last night, hand gripping the back of your neck and pulling you into him. You sighed against his lips and he pushed his tongue past your lips, kissing you until you whined softly and he pulled back.

"I'll see you tomorrow angel." A smile and then he left. You teared up as the door closed. Your heart pounded against your chest, syncing with the sound of each eight locks locking behind him.

You wished he'd come back. Wished he'd decide to just give up on work, throw away his life like he'd thrown away yours and come back and be with you.

Because quickly, you were all too aware again of how lonely, isolated and scared you were.

✽-

Were you developing Stockholm syndrome? For now you settled on no. Nobody who had Stockholm syndrome was consciously and blatantly aware of it. And you were sure that you couldn't possibly have Stockholm syndrome because you would have to be convinced that you were in love with Spencer, and you for sure were not.

You rested on the soft couch, curled up in a blanket. 9pm. You'd had a small nap way earlier and made yourself dinner, and now you sat comfortably, rewatching Scream, cup of warm tea in your hand.

It was the sex scene between Sidney and Billy playing before you, and it made you feel a way you hadn't before. Warmth in your stomach watching the way he touched her. You craved intimacy like that, you hated being alone like this. You wished Spencer would quit the BAU and stay with you full time. You shook your head at yourself. You wished the BAU would find you and bring you home, and then you wouldn't ever be alone, you could have intimacy from anyone, not Spencer.

Spencer. You watched Billy kiss Sidney, it made you think of the way Spencer kissed you, how he asked first, how he didn't kiss you before you were ready. You had been so lucky, Spencer was an incredible captor, so sweet to you.

You could hear footsteps, locks turning and your heart jumped in your chest. What if you'd been found? Unlikely, but maybe that door would open and Derek would be behind it, or Hotch, or even some ordinary police officer.

It wasn't, it was Spencer. And surprisingly you felt relief that it was him instead of someone coming to your rescue. You didn't even process your own thoughts before you placed your tea on the coffee table and raced over to Spencer, face buried into his chest and arms around his waist.

He chuckled lowly and held you close to himself, burying his face into the crown of your head and inhaling deeply. He pressed kisses to the part in your hair and hummed. "I missed you angel."

You just hummed in response, telling him you missed him too without verbally admitting it, which you weren't sure you could. He cupped your cheeks and lifted your face so he could look into your eyes.

He held eye contact with you for a lengthy moment. It was a strange gesture that you figured most people wouldn't understand, you hardly did. What you did understand was that Spencer struggled with eye contact, and still he pushed himself to make eye contact with you, for you.

He kissed your forehead, then between your eyebrows, leaving a trail of kisses down the bridge of your nose before he found your lips, kissing you deeply, tongue chasing yours.

You blushed and moved away from him when it got too much, stomach flipping and heart pounding, face sure to be deep red. You looked down at your feet and he held your chin, turning your face up to look at him.

"How was your day my angel?" He asked, hand gliding down your back to the hem of your shirt, his hand slid up under the fabric and he stroked your back softly.

"Good. Long." You sighed. I missed you. "I like it better when you're here." You whispered, as if anyone aside from Spencer and your cat would hear you. Your heart soared and the look your words brought to Spencer's face, brown eyes filled with appreciate and wonder.

"Everything is better when I'm with you angel. That's why I needed to take you here." He brushed your hair behind your ear with his free hand and you nodded in understanding, in agreement.

Spencer was a good man. And he'd gone through so much, if you made things better for him, he deserved to keep you.

You went through the bag of things Spencer brought with him to occupy you when he was away. More movies and some cards and art supplies. You placed the books on entomology and Stockholm Syndrome on a shelf. You wouldn't open the Stockholm Syndrome books you'd decided, you're smart, you're a profiler with the FBI, you would know if you had Stockholm Syndrome.

Now you sat on the floor, you and Milo playing with a wand Spencer had gotten him while the man put together a scratch post for the cat, wide smile on his face as he watched you.

You smiled and laughed watching Milo. That's how amazing Spencer was, he didn't need to bring Milo, didn't need to spend money on him, but he did, for you. You were so lucky.

You remembered how scared you were when you thought Spencer might have killed him. You remembered how guilty you felt that Spencer killed your neighbour, but you knew he wouldn't have done that if he hadn't needed to.

  'Derek does not matter anymore' You remembered him saying that, for the first time since he arrived from work, you felt uneasy. "Spencer?" You got his attention. "When we were fighting, you said Derek didn't matter anymore. Did- did you do something to him?" You didn't miss the way his eyes narrowed and his jaw tensed. "I'm only asking 'cause he's like my brother. I don't love him like that- like the way you love me." Your voice shook, eyes brimming with tears.

  He took a moment to answer you, each passing second leading you to be more and more worried he had killed Derek. "No. Derek's fine, I didn't hurt him- I meant that he doesn't matter because all you need now is-is me, I brought you here and you're mine, I'm all that matters." He didn't raise his voice at you like you'd expected, he didn't seem very angry, more anxious.

  "You do matter Spencer." You reassured him, chewing on your lip and petting Milo. "I just was worried about him, I'm sorry." You looked down at your cat, purring in your lap, you didn't want Spencer to see the tears rolling down your face, but he did anyway.

  "I promise Derek's alright. He's worried about you, and he misses you. But you're perfectly fine right?" He sniffed and you nodded as he stood. "Alright angel, come here." He ordered and you listened, immediately going over to him. A small part of you worried he'd hurt you, a large part of you was thrilled when all he did was pull you into his arms. "You don't have to be sorry for how you feel angel, it's okay to worry about the people out there. Do you understand? No apologies." He spoke softly and you nodded. He kissed the top of your head and his lips turned in a smile. "It's getting late darling, let's head to bed.

✽-

  You looked at your clock, 4:12AM. The lights were off and you were comfy in your bed with Spencer asleep, arm thrown over your side, Milo sleeping soundly at your feet.

It was so cold, you huffed as you moved closer to Spencer, failing to get any extra warmth. You pushed his arm that was weighing you down and slid out of the bed, intending to get a blanket off of the couch to add to the pile of blankets on the bed. When you walked toward your open bedroom door, you immediately noticed it.

The door to the exit was wide open. You looked back at Spencer and Milo before you sped over to it. There was a wooden staircase that lead up to an open hatch, the star filled night sky behind it.

You looked back to your open bedroom door, you could see the shape of Spencer in your bed, still asleep. Your legs shook as you bounded up the stairs. Collapsing at the very top one, sitting down and heaving breaths of fresh air.

You reached an arm out and touched the damp grass, breathed in the chilly air, stared up at the stars and the moon that you had unknowingly missed so terribly.

It was a moment before it dawned on you that you could leave. You looked around, in the woods somewhere with no idea how to get home. Still it was a chance. You could put Milo in his carrier and leave. Find your way back to home, to Derek and the rest of your family.

You refused to reflect on the way you felt, the way you weighed your options, and the idea of leaving Spencer scared you more than the idea of staying with him.

You wiped the tears from your eyes as you closed the hatch and went back down the stairs. You rubbed at your warm cheeks after you closed to door to the exit. You chewed your lip as you rushed back into the bedroom, immediately climbing back into the bed with Spencer.

You held the blanket in fists as you pressed your back against Spencer’s chest with force, exhaling a sigh of relief when his arm snaked around your waist again.

“You could’ve left.” His voice startled you despite how quietly he whispered. You bit down on your lip and turned to face him, hiding your face against the column of his throat.

“I know.” Your voice shook and he held you close to him. “I didn’t want to… I really liked seeing the stars out there though. And- and the moon.” Spencer could feel your tears wetting his shirt and he kissed the top of your head before twisting so you lay flat on your back and he hovered over you.

“Thank you for staying.” He whispered, eyes glossy. He kissed you, a quick gentle peck before he stared into your eyes. Then his hand was on your throat, kissing you harder and deeper than he had before.

In a matter of seconds you were panting and keening toward him. His thigh slotted between yours and you hadn’t even noticed that you’d been rubbing yourself against his thigh until his hand moved from your throat to your hips, guiding you, swallowing the soft and needy whimpers that left your throat.

Lips fell from yours to your neck. “Thank you so much Angel. So good for me- gonna let me thank you?” His voice had a needy rasp that had you reeling, nodding your head as fast as you could. You felt him smile against the warm skin of your neck. “Words baby, let me hear that pretty voice.” And you gasped as he immediately began to suck on your pulse point.

“Yes, Spencer. Please.” You stumbled over each word that left your mouth, whining for him. He happily obliged, leaving kisses and hickeys down your neck until he got to your collarbone. He shuffled further down, pressing your shirt up to your chin. He groaned and wet his lips with his tongue.

“Pretty angel.” He rasped, hands gripping your sides roughly while he took a nipple in his mouth. He hummed around it and you moaned, you could feel his bulge growing beneath his pants. He left hickeys over your sternum, your stomach. And then he quickly pulled your pants and underwear down and off.

It startled you, but you were too needy to care. He hadn’t asked, but you were sure he’d stop if you asked him to.

His hands were warm on your thighs as he spread them, and you didn’t have time to be nervous or insecure before he was gliding his tongue through your folds and capturing your clit between his lips, moaning around it.

You moaned in return, legs shaking on either side of his head. Everything felt so intense. Because you hadn’t been touched like this in so long, because for such a long time since you got here, you’d only been touched at all by Spencer. You depended on him for intimacy and you yearned for his hands on you.

He moaned against you again and it shot vibrations and hot energy up your stomach and spine. He sucked your clit and shook his head from side to side, you couldn’t control your hips bucking up against Spencer’s mouth, but he didn’t seem to mind it one bit, he yearned for it.

A whine began to leave your kiss swollen lips, breaking half way and turning into a moan when Spencer inserted his index finger into your cunt. He didn’t go slow, but that didn’t matter. You were so wet and desperate, ready for him, that it just slid in with no resistance, your body took him in immediately, clenching desperately around his one finger.

Never would you verbally admit it, pressing back against his mouth and hand, not physically capable of getting any words out, you desperately wanted more. Another finger, for him to go faster. It didn’t seem you had to ask for anything because he already knew what you needed.

In one fluid motion, he added his middle finger alongside his first one, fucking them in and out of you at a faster pace. You were already overloaded on pleasure before he started flicking his tongue fast over your clit, simultaneously crooking his fingers upward and bullying your g-spot.

You were practically screaming. “Please, please, please… god… please-” your begging turned to incoherent rambling and that on its own turned Spencer on beyond belief, hips pressing his cock against the mattress for some relief.

Your whole body felt tense, freezing and hot at the same time. Your legs tried to close, push Spencer out but he held your left thigh down with his palm, keeping you in place. “Come on sweet Angel, you got it, cum for me.” He mumbled against your heat, voice heavy.

That’s all it took before the coil deep inside your stomach snapped and you screamed, hips shaking and legs locking behind Spencer’s head as you came.

All of your muscles seized up and relaxed repeatedly as came, and you hardly had any time to actually come down from your orgasm before Spencer was kissing you and you felt the tip of his cock pressing against your cunt- still raw from your orgasm.

“Spencer- ‘s too sensitive.” You whimpering, raising your head as much as you could to look at where you met below your waists. He was much bigger than you’d expected, intimidatingly so.

He didn’t seem to care how sensitive you were, listening to you let out a moan from both pain and pleasure as he fed inch after inch of himself into you.

“Been waiting for this for so long.” He groaned into your ear after letting his forehead drop to the pillow you rested on. “Thought about this every night for months and months. Needed it before I even met you, Derek showed us a picture of you and I knew. Knew I’d be deep inside you just like this someday.” He rambled, that was all the time he gave you before he thrusted in and out of you at an unexpectedly fast pace.

You were so sensitive, it felt too good, too much, overwhelming. Spencer moaned as your nails dug into his shoulders, it only made him fuck you faster. He kissed away each tear that fell down your flushed cheeks.

He knew he’d finish embarrassingly fast, he’d wanted nothing more than this for so long. He slid a hand down between you both, rubbing fast and tight circles over your pudgy, swollen and tender clit.

You screamed yet again, heels locking behind Spencer’s back unintentionally, pulling him closer to you. You couldn’t think, couldn’t speak, broken whimpers and sentences without words rushing out of your mouth.

Only a few more thrusts from and you were cumming again. Hoarse whines of pleasure echoing off of the walls of your prison. The constant clenching of your walls around him triggered his orgasm. He bit down on the junction between your neck and shoulder to centre himself as his hips jerked and he came deep inside of you, painting your cervix.

For a while you stayed like that, Spencer hovering on top of you, hot breath on your neck, cock softening inside of you. It was relaxing, you needed this peaceful intimacy more than he did and he knew that, more than happy to give you everything you needed right now.

His chin dragged against yours as he lifted his head again. You moved forward and kissed him, the first kiss you’d initiated since he took you. His lips were soft, dented from his teeth, salty from the sweat and tears he kissed off of you.

He kissed you back, humming happily, smiling, which made you smile too. He pulled out, much to your dismay, grinning at the sad sound you made at the loss of his cock inside of you.

The second he was laying on his back you were turning and curling into him, he didn’t mind at all, beyond happy to hold you, coddle you and give you kisses over your damp hairline.

“Do you wanna shower now angel? Or would you rather to shower in the morning?” He asked you, sweet and sultry. You just shook your head, pressing your face against his bare chest.

“Don’t wanna shower yet, just want- I want you.” You sniffled, foggy and clingy, he grinned down at you.

“You’re always going to have me.”

@justanerd1 @the-sun-died-out @eddies-van86 @alfjorcitos @natashaashleymarvelromanoff @tuesday-yellowxx @niyahwhoreworld @wilcherwatchers @aesthetics-villa @no-soy-fer

[minasvalentine]

The two extremes of my ideal type: the dilf much older than my dad aaron hotchner, or the nerdy angel face boy spencer reid.

[minasvalentine]

dark blue.

tommy shelby x fem!reader

summary: you're finn's girlfriend- and you've always received the same question, what's a good girl like you doing with a boy like him? funnily enough, his older brother thomas wonders the same thing.

includes: SMUT 18+, dom/sub dynamics, age-gap (tommy is in his early 40s, reader early 20s, though it isn't specified), innocence kink/corruption kink, cheating, daddy kink, oral (male rec), throat fucking, cum-eating, based on this ask here

a/n: feedback is always very much appreciated!! <3

⋆✰

“What’s a good girl like you doin’ with a boy like Finn, eh?”

It was a common saying you'd get from various people over the few months that you'd been seeing a certain Finn Shelby-- you were used to it, the constant stares of disbelief that someone like you, someone so sweet, with pretty dresses and full of radiance would want anything to do with an up-and-coming gangster.

It was love, at least that's what you told yourself.

So after hearing that certain question so many times without batting an eyelid, why did it sound so different when it came from him?

Thomas Shelby. Your boyfriend's older brother. All stoic and dressed to impress and intimidate, a cigarette hanging from the corner of his mouth like always, smoking on it without a care in the world whether he was allowed to in a house like yours or not.

He had surprised you, scared the wits out of you-- you were alone in the comfort of your bedroom, sitting at your vanity doing your nightly routine before he had shown up. You hadn't a clue how he'd gotten in, and he was smug about it, the smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth a big indicator.

You stood up, smoothing down your nightgown when it clung to the thickness of your thighs and attempted to make eye contact and stutter out a few words.

"M-Mr Shelby," you breathed, fiddling with your hands when you clasped them in front of you. "What're you doing here?"

Tommy's eyes flicked around your room, taking note of your white walls and plush, pink duvet-- the trinkets scattered along your room all cutesy and girly. Just like you and your stupid nightgown, he thought.

"Came here to properly introduce myself," he spoke, inhaling another drag and exhaling the harsh smoke in your direction.

"But we've already met," your brows furrowed, cocking your head to the side impishly and unsure. "It was the other day, don't you remember?"

"I do," he flicked his tongue over his lips to moisten them, eyes still fixated on you. "but that was far too formal, don't you think, sweetheart?"

An unusual shiver ran along your spine-- sweetheart, you liked the way it sounded, the way he said it. Finn never called you sweetheart.

You nodded, in a foggy daze, staring at him with a somewhat dumb expression on your face.

Tommy cleared his throat and you quickly shook yourself out of your strange stupor.

"Aren't y'gonna invite me to sit?" he asked, eyebrows raised, waiting. "that's what polite girls do, isn't it?"

You were quick to nod your head, pulling out your vanity chair and inviting him to sit, just like he had asked. He sat down, the contrast of his dark exterior with your pretty pink belongings had butterflies fluttering in the pit of your stomach-- a sense that he didn't belong there, but the thrumming between your thighs was obvious that you liked him being there, amongst you, amongst your things.

He stubbed his cigarette out in a little jewellery dish that sat upon your vanity, heart-shaped and porcelain, now covered in grey, smoking ash. You knew better than to chastise him for it.

"You didn't answer my question," he muttered, clasping his hands in front of him, though differently to you, it was in confidence, to intimidate.

You thought about it. Why were you with Finn?

"W-We're in love, sir," you stuttered, not meeting his gaze, your cheeks were on fire.

"You don't look too sure about that, sweetheart," there it was again, that name, a single term going straight to your core, a surge of wetness saturating the cotton of your underwear. "Has he fucked you yet?"

You coughed on your own spit, eyes bulging out of their sockets at his crude question.

"Pardon?" you breathed, exasperated.

His reply was simple.

"You heard me."

"I don't believe that's any of your concern-" he was quick to interject, eyes swarming and dark, consuming you, leaving you to hang your head and cower.

"Finn's my brother," he spoke, "I have the right to know what he gets up to, and I don't want him corrupting a good girl like you just because he thinks he's in love."

You flushed at his words and you decided to answer his previous question, no matter how inappropriate.

"We haven't," your words were soft, quiet, he almost had trouble hearing you.

"Haven't what?" he hid his smirk, he already had you wrapped around his little finger, it was too easy.

"Had sex," you muttered, cheeks searing at your confession.

“Do you want to?” He asked, you stiffened, lashes fluttering and lips opening and closing like a poor fish out of water.

“M-maybe…”

“Come here,” Tommy patted his thigh, signalling you to come closer, to stand between his spread legs and have him look at you much closer. You did as he asked, you were a good girl after all.

“Do you want me to show you what it’s like?” He cooed all condescending and mocking, “Do you want me to show you what big, bad men do to little girls like you?”

“Mr Shelby, what about Finn?” His eyes darkened at the mere mention of his youngest brother.

“Fuck Finn,” he spoke slowly, “you forget about him when I’m talking to you, you understand me?”

You nodded, resting your hands against his shoulders to steady you when he tugged you closer by the frills of your nightgown.

“Yes, Mr Shelby,”

“No, no, none of that,” he shook his head, hands on your hips, thumbs rubbing against your soft, covered skin. “You address me properly.”

You searched your mind for the right term, brows furrowing and lips pouting, trying to think what on earth he wanted you to address him by.

“Come on, sweet girl,” he chuckled, bringing his thumb and forefinger to grip your chin, tugging it from side to side. “I’m your daddy now, isn’t that right?”

You whined, unable to control it, rubbing your thighs together, your walls collapsing and letting your submissive nature come to the forefront.

Thomas Shelby was the devil himself, you were sure— and he was your daddy. Finn had disappeared from your mind completely.

“Yes,” you sighed, all dreamily and cute, leaning into his touch, “yes, daddy.”

His plump lips curved up into a smirk, palm patting at your cheek as if you were a dog, eager for praise-- and you realised that wasn't too far from the truth; just a bitch in heat, eager and ready for her first breeding.

You stared at him, dumbified from those cornflower irises of his, almost hypnotizing, and you were sure you'd comply with anything he'd ask of you.

"What is it, sweetheart?" Tommy could practically see the gears shifting beneath your skull and he raised his brows when you stuttered, a silent 'I'm waiting' when you took far too long to answer him.

"C-Can I have a kiss?" you spoke shyly, thumbing the expensive cotton of his crisp shirt, growing impossibly warmer and not just because of the close proximity. "please?"

You made sure to add your plea, keeping your manners intact, giving him something to be proud of you for.

So innocent, he thought, you really were such a good girl-- something he thought was all just an act to get what you wanted, however with the way you stumbled over your words and fluttered your lashes, more eager for a kiss than anything else- anything more.

Yeah, that was no act.

Tommy fought the smile that ticked at his lips, using his fingers to tip your chin, tugging you closer, closer, closer, until you were a hair's width away. You could feel his lips brush against the skin of your cheek, gently, so uncharacteristic, you didn't think that a man of his status and power could be so sweet on someone.

Though, of course, that's what Tommy Shelby wanted you to think, he wanted you to succumb to the desires that he caused, take you and defile you and leave you wanting no man other than himself. He craved the power imbalance, the sick need to corrupt young, naive little girls like yourself.

Tommy Shelby was not sweet. He was worlds apart from that.

The soft feeling of his lips grew nearer, to your cheek, then to the corner of your mouth, before pecking your lips-- a small spongy kiss, capable of urging a little whine to escape your throat.

He kissed you again, slotting your mouths together, locking your lips one over the other, deepening the kiss and it quickly became heated. Swiping his tongue along your bottom lip, he didn't have the patience to wait for you to open up, instead forcing his prodding tongue inside your mouth, crudely swiping it against yours, sucking it between his lips before running it along the ridges of your teeth.

You didn't think kissing could feel so dirty, so unhinged, but you were rather ashamed to say you liked it. The way his callused hands trailed from your hips to your neck, all the way back down just to take a handful of your behind, squeezing the doughy globes roughly and playing with them as if you were a mere toy.

Tommy pulled away, a long, silver line of spit keeping your lips connected, only breaking apart when he began to speak, pushing at your shoulders and urging you to the carpet.

"On your knees," his voice was raspy, and he cleared his throat, clearly affected by you, by your innocence more like. "gonna teach you how to keep men like me happy."

You instantly obeyed, dropping to your knees and sitting on your haunches, practically purring when he cupped and stroked your cheek.

He eyed you from below him, perched in the space between his knees and he spread them further to let you shuffle closer, your hands on his thighs.

"You're a good little pet, aren't you?" he cooed, swiping his thumb along your chin, "such a good listener, eh?"

You beamed up at him, leaning into his touch and nodding enthusiastically.

"Yes, Daddy," a little giggle pushed past your lips, "for you."

"That's right," he hummed, "just f'me."

You had an idea of what he wanted you to do and you fiddled with his belt in anticipation for his next command.

"You're gonna learn how to properly suck cock," he spoke, "and y'gonna do a fucking good job of it."

Your mouth watered at the prospect of having his cock on your tongue. You sighed dreamily.

"And once I've taught ya, that's gonna be your job from now on-- gonna ease daddy's stress whenever he needs you to."

You nodded, cheeks searing.

"Yes, sir- I'll do anything f'you."

He had you where he wanted you, compliant and ready to yield at his every command. It was too fucking easy, he almost wanted to laugh at your naivety, how unaffected you were by the idea of having another man's cock down your throat, your own boyfriend's brother in fact and Finn hadn't even crossed your mind. Poor, poor Finn, always second best when it came to being compared to Tommy.

You may have been a good girl and did as the older man said, but you were still a whore at heart. His little harlot.

"Come on then, sweetheart, I haven't got all day," he chastised, cocking his head down to his belt that you hadn't unbuckled yet. You had so much left to learn.

You fumbled with the leather that encircled his waist, pulling it through the silver buckle and from the loops before unzipping his fly and pulling his tailored trousers down as far as you could to his thighs.

The bulge in his briefs was prominent and your mouth salivated at the sight, your natural reaction to a sight so delectable, your first cock to suck and it was so big too, you wondered how you'd be able to take him without choking on him. But where was the fun if you weren't?

Your instincts told you to reach out and grab it, so you did just that, palming him through his underwear and feeling the warmth of his shaft jolt and throb against your grip, already hard and you swore you noticed a little wet spot saturating the fabric-- a trick of the light, you thought.

Tommy sucked in a sharp breath, giving you a pointed look, eyebrow raised.

"I'm not 'ere to get teased," he huffed, as if his cock wasn't jumping at the touch of your hand. He took a handful of your hair, tugging it and making your scalp burn. "come on, take it out and get to work."

Your fingers curled under the elastic of his briefs, pulling the fabric down to rest where his trousers were, and the sight had you gawking, eyes as wide as saucers as you took in his pretty appendage.

So thick, littered with blue veins, the colour much akin to the blue of his eyes and you swallowed down all the saliva that pooled under your tongue. His tip was a pretty shade of tan, glistening with beads of pre-cum, slapping against his stomach every time he throbbed.

"I didn't know they could be this pretty," you marvelled, taking hold of it and delicately running your fingers up each prominent vein. Tommy cleared his throat at your unexpected praise, the grip on your hair a lot softer than before, instead of tugging on it, he petted it down softly, watching you watch him.

"Put me in your mouth, darling," you smiled up at him teasingly pouting up at him.

"So impatient," you teased, your confidence rising, before you tightened your grip, puckering your lips around his tip, sucking it as if he were one of your favourite lollipops.

You took him out of your mouth with a soft pop, just to reattach yourself to him, lathering your tongue over his sensitive head, the somewhat salty taste igniting your tastebuds and you hummed around him.

"There y'go, you can take more than that," you hollowed your cheeks at his words, going lower, taking him deeper and slowly you started to bob your head up and down, moaning at his taste and thickness on your tongue.

With a particularly harsh downward thrust of your head, he reached the back of your throat, instantly causing you to gag and you pulled off him, whining and sniffling with tears ebbing over your waterline.

"Good girl," he cooed breathlessly, chest heaving and palms cradling your face, hushing and settling you when you continued to whine out. "Doin' so well, got me a little whore in the making, hm?"

He pushed you back onto his cock, guiding you down, down, down until you were gagging once again, though this time you didn't pull off of him, you couldn't, not with the strength he was using to hold and keep your head down. Your nose brushed against the course thatch of hair that littered his pelvis and you tried to resist gagging at the stupidly large intrusion by breathing steadily through your nose.

You wanted so badly to rise for air, to ease the soreness that started to buzz in your throat, but although this was your first time, a true beginner, he still treated you like one of his most proficient whores. Coughing and spluttering, drool started to slip from your mouth and down your chin, so messy and slick, dripping down the length of your neck, saturating your pink nightgown and settling in the space between your tits.

"Fuck," he groaned, "gonna fuck this little virgin throat, gonna make you choke- doesn't that sound good, sweet girl?"

With the way you sobbed and moaned around him, he took it as a yes, keeping a good, firm grip upon your tresses to bob you up and down as he pleased, thrusting his hips upwards and meeting your mouth in the middle.

You grew light-headed, crude, sloppy sounds filling the air along with your constant gags and you quickly slapped at his thigh, urging him to let you up, to go easy on you and let you catch your breath. He didn't stop, however, didn't even slow down, purposeful in messing with you and teaching you that he was in charge-- he would decide whether you needed to breathe or not.

He chuckled at your vulnerability, stopping his thrusts to to sheath himself deep down your throat and keep you still, just the feeling of you gagging around his shaft was enough to stimulate him.

Eventually, he let you up for breath, marvelling at how you coughed and struggled to catch your breath, your throat feeling entirely abused and sore each time you swallowed. His pretty cock jolted at the sight of you, so messy and whoreish, hair tangled and spit dribbling down your chin.

"Breathe, darling," he cooed, cupping your tear-stained cheeks between his rough palms and pouting at you mockingly, pressing a rather condescending peck to your forehead. "Bein' so good-- almost done, sweetheart, just gotta make daddy cum and then you can rest that lovely throat of yours."

You breathed shakily, settling down on your haunches again and grabbing his slick cock in your grasp.

"Okay, Daddy," you sniffled, such a sweet girl, even with a cock in your hand.

Tommy guided you down, conducting your movements with a thrust and push to your head, keeping you pliant and submerging himself within you, and if your throat felt this good his head reeled at the thought of your pussy-- so tight and virginal, untouched, not even by your curious little fingers.

He'd have all of you soon enough.

You could see his stomach muscles clenching, thighs flexing from under your palms and you hummed around him when you noticed his thrusts growing sloppier.

"Fuck," Tommy groaned, breaths haphazard and shaky, "you ready, sweet girl? You ready to taste Daddy's cum? Y'gonna swallow it all, aren't you, otherwise m'gonna have to force feed it down that pretty throat."

You stared up at him as best as you could, fluttering your lashes, tears spilling and clouding your vision, though you blinked them away, eager to see him, to see the way his face would contort, how beautiful he'd look whilst shooting cum inside your mouth.

One, two, three more thrusts were all it took for him to start convulsing, cock jolting on your tongue and spilling his seed, coating the walls of your constricting throat. He was groaning, moaning out loud, sounds so pretty you had to keep your thighs clenched tight.

"Shit- good girl, such a good little whore, you are."

He continued to ride his orgasm out, until he grew far too over-sensitive, pulling himself out of your mouth and lifting your head up, spent and eyes hooded watching you swallow his seed and hum at the newfound taste-- something you already found yourself becoming addicted to.

"Look," you beamed, still teary-eyed and shaky on your knees, you opened your mouth wide, sticking out your tongue for him to marvel at, completely clean of all traces of his cum, now deep in your belly. "swallowed it all, daddy- just like you said."

Tommy's head started to spin, praising you at how good you had been though he felt strange, heart thumping in his chest at the mere sight of you, he felt soft, a small smile on his face without realising.

He thought you were wrapped tightly around his finger, however he had begun to realise in such a short time it was the complete opposite way around.

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Aegon II Targaryen in House of the Dragon Season 2 Trailer

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Something‘s purring

oh my god

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this man 😭 i can give as many little targaryen as he want

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official team green trailer, official team black trailer

bruh where's the official team horny trailer

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Hello everyone. Rue/valyrianglass is back with being a total simp for daddy Aemond—

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the trailer for season 2 is living rent free in my head, I mean- AEMOND ?!

#cause you‘re my religion !! #aemond targaryen #house of the dragon #game of thrones #ewan mitchell #house of the dragon season 2 #hotd #smut #smuttish #aemond targaryen x reader #hot #he‘s a god #x reader #aemond targaryen imagine

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Every day is Bring Your Weird Son to Work Day

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my takeaway from dune: part 2

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i think about this pic constantly its so crazy the outfit….. the fluffy hair…. THE FUCKING GUITAR….. the jeans……. how good his ass looks…. i cant even be subtle about it

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⇢ ˗ˏˋ broken promises pt. 2 ࿐ྂ

summary: Rafe promised to take you out and spend your birthday with you, but you don’t hear from him all day and then suddenly he shows up at your door trying to explain. (this is part 2 to the birthday girl angst blurb! i changed the title for the series so it was more appealing)

cw: mentions of drug use, angst, nothing crazy (yet lmao)

wc: 1.2k

notes: i'm excited to write this since its my first series! lmk if there's anything you guys would wanna see in future chapters :)

previous chapters: part 1

You wake up to your alarm droning on annoyingly and feel around aimlessly with your eyes closed to turn it off. Once you had finally woken up on your own accord, you realized you should talk to Rafe. You hadn't spoken to him or left your house the last few days. Obviously, you missed him, but you just felt so hurt and angry with him.

After getting ready and using makeup to look a little more alive and less blotchy from crying so much, you decided you'd go up to Tannyhill to try and talk to Rafe. You left your house, hopped on your bike, and started towards the estate. The whole ride there, you just kept going over what you wanted to say but nothing seemed right. Before you knew it, you were at the front entrance.

You walked inside and heard voices in the distance coming from upstairs. Once you made your way upstairs, you heard the voices more clearly coming from Rafe's room. It was Rafe and another person whose voice you couldn't pinpoint.

"Come on, man you gotta understand where I'm comin' from. I've just been stressed out. Nothing a good time won't fix."

You looked into the room and saw Rafe sitting with some guy you've never seen. There was a table in between them that had some rolled-up bills and coke sitting on it.

You walked inside the room, still unnoticed until you spoke. "Hey, Rafe."

Both of their heads snapped in your direction, and Rafe immediately shot up, walking towards you.

"Shit... I uh- I didn't know you were coming over." He looked back at the man who just sat there unbothered. "Barry, can you uh give us a minute..."

"So let me get this straight, you went to a party and got high, missed my entire birthday, and after I tell you I'm pissed off your next line of action is to get high again with your drug dealer, right?"

Before Rafe could speak, Barry grabbed his stuff and started walking out. "A'ight man hit me up when y'all are done dealing with this shit."

Rafe waited until he thought Barry was far enough before closing the door and speaking, "Can you blame me? I don't hear from you for days so I assumed you didn't wanna be with me anymore! I tried to talk to you and you straight up ignored me."

"I was angry Rafe! I just needed some time to myself. That doesn't mean I'm breaking up with you and it doesn't mean you should start doing drugs again when that is quite literally what we fought about." 

This definitely wasn't how you imagined this conversation going. You didn't want to argue with him but your pride wasn't going to let you just back down.

"If you wanted space you could've told me," he sighed. "And I am sorry that I got high at that party and I'm sorry I missed your birthday okay? I want to make it up to you."

You walked over to the bed and sat down for a moment with your head in your hands. You loved Rafe, you really did. But you didn't want him falling into his old habits and lying to you about it.

You both sat there in silence as you thought about what you should do and what you should say.

"Rafe I... I think we should just take some time apart. Get our heads straight and figure out what we want-"

He walked over and sat next to you his eyes wide. "Baby I want you, I want to be with you."

"I wanna be with you too, Rafe, but I have conditions. I don't want you doing coke anymore. I don't like the person you are when you get like that. I know you get stressed and feel like it's your only option but you have me. Or maybe try weed and see how that works for you. I also don't want you hanging with Barry anymore. Non-negotiables."

He nods "I swear I'll work on it and I'll talk to Barry. I swear."

You stand up from the bed getting ready to go out the door. "Rafe... I'm gonna go stay with my parents on the mainland for a few days. I'll be in contact but please try your best to just leave me be. Get clean, for good, and I'll let you know when I'm back and we can figure everything out. Okay?"

He shakes his head. You can see that he's angry and confused, your heart just aches. "The mainland? What- why? Just stay here, I don't understand-"

"Please, Rafe. This is what we have to do okay?"

He took a few deep breaths and ran his hands through his hair. "Okay... okay. When you get back, I'll have made it up to you. Just promise me we aren't over." 

You could see the tears that formed in his eyes and had to fight back your own. "We aren't over just yet." You gave him a kiss on the cheek before leaving his room and heading home.

⭑*•̩̩͙⊱✩•̩̩͙⊰•*⭑

You were finally off the ferry and on the mainland to stay with your parents. You really wanted to talk to your best friend to get advice so you asked her to pick you up. By the time you reached your house, she was all caught up. Your parents weren't home so you both went straight up to your childhood bedroom.

"Damn... I didn't think he got down like that." Niki looked at you slightly surprised. "Honestly though, it sounds like does care about you, even if he did fuck up."

"Yeah, I know he cares I just... I don't wanna have to worry about shit like this. Whenever he's all coked up he makes irrational and bad decisions. I'm just worried he'll do something and end up in jail or worse."

"You just have to let him know that. Make sure he knows your anger comes from a place of care. If he feels like you're just judging him, it'll probably piss him off."

You sigh and groan into your pillow. "You're right, thanks Niki."

"Don't mention it. Now, let me catch you up on the mainland gossip!" she squealed.

⭑*•̩̩͙⊱✩•̩̩͙⊰•*⭑

Niki had gone home and you were getting into bed, ready to sleep after what felt like an exceptionally long day, when your phone chimed. You looked and saw you had a text from Rafe.

Rafe: hey I just wanted to make sure you made it to the mainland safely.

You: yes I did, i'm at my parent's house, thanks for asking.

Rafe: of course, goodnight

You: goodnight

Placing your phone on the dresser, you're thankful he doesn't push the conversation further. You decide you'll only stay here for three days before going back to the island to figure things out with Rafe. You just hope he can work on staying clean and that you can go back to being together like normal. 

As you closed your eyes, ready for sleep, you heard another chime from your phone. You groaned before picking it up to check.

Topper: hey we need to talk, it's about Rafe.

to be continued...

likes, comments, and blogs are greatly appreciated!

taglist: @readingsmuts @1aarii1 @bingbongbum @stargirlsturniololover @babygirl229 @poisonedsultana @rafescamshoe

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feyd rautha would definitely put his dick in the Pain Box for fun

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NEXT PARTTTTTTT IM SO EXCITED

— THROWN TO THE WOLVES (IV)

PART ONE || PART TWO || PART THREE

PAIRING — Na-Baron Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x fem!Reader // Atreides!OC

SUMMARY — Feyd is not as easy to manipulate as his wife wishes. Her sudden change of behaviour leaves him confused. Na-baroness wants to find out why she's not receiving any letters from her father.

AUTHOR’S NOTE — It’s written as an usual x Reader fic without describing anything about the Reader’s looks but I still classified it as an OC as well since she is Paul Atreides’ half-sister. I hope this shows in the tags because they were problems with them for the past two days 😡😡😡 Anyway, I want to thank everyone engaging in this story by liking, reblogging and leaving comments. It means a lot... 😭

WARNINGS — arranged marriage, mentions of sexual activities including non/dub-con (no actual smut), violent behaviour

WORD COUNT — 6,140

ENGLISH IS MY SECOND LANGUAGE.

THROWN TO THE WOLVES (IV)

You woke up earlier than usual when you felt a movement next to your body under the duvet. Your eyes opened lazily as you watched Feyd sitting up on the bed. You assumed that even on the morning after his victory in the arena, he wouldn’t miss a training session.

The light creeping inside through the narrow windows shone on his bare back and you squinted your eyes at the pale scars that were scattered all over. You had noticed them before but you had assumed they were a result of his gladiator fights. Now you weren’t so sure anymore. You had seen him in the arena and his back was not exposed there. All the cuts also did not look like they were made in some frantical fight. They looked too systematic.

You reached your hand out and traced one of the scars on his back with your fingertip. He flinched and turned around immediately, reminding you of a wounded, yet deadly animal.

“Don’t do that,” he ordered in a voice even more deep and raspy than usual. 

“You haven’t gained those scars in the arena, have you?” You asked, carefully.

Feyd’s eyes narrowed as he was trying to read your intentions. But he remained silent and you took your hand away.

“What has he done to you?” You whispered and sat up to face him.

He terrified you. Your body still remembered everything he had done to it. All the awful things that he had said, all those disgusting smiles, creepy stares. His touch was venomous and destructive.

Yet, he had also given you pleasure in those past few days. Your mother was dead, your father too shy to talk about such matters to you. Lady Jessica tried but you didn’t want to listen to her. Your maids had been telling you awful stories about performing marital duties – most of them had never been in a situation like this and they were repeating other people’s stories.

Your marital duties had been worse than whatever they could prepare you for. But none of their stories mentioned the waves of neverending pleasure when you were trapped in your husband’s strong arms like a doll he could break at any moment. Completely at the mercy of that monster and falling apart over and over. The mixture of pain and pleasure.

You began to understand why he liked it so much.

But his craving was unnatural. You couldn’t imagine enjoying being stabbed the way he had been in the arena. It was beyond some sort of twisted sexual desire. It was a trained dog’s behaviour.

“He has done what had to be done,” Feyd told you and moved away, trying to leave the bed but you reached out for him again and grabbed his wrist.

“Stay with me,” you tried to sound seductive. You weren’t that sore on that morning and your plan to break him couldn’t wait for too long.

He looked at you, confused. He was angry at you for trying to stop him but he didn’t push you away.

“Stay with me,” you repeated and let the duvet fall down from your chest, revealing your breasts. “You won yesterday, did you not? Surely, you can miss the training session today,” you tried to convince him.

“No,” his answer was harsh when he left the bed and you had no choice but to let him go. “I don’t fuck before the fight,” he reminded you and went to the bathroom.

You sighed in defeat and laid back down on your pillow. You fell asleep again before he even left the bathroom.

You were surprised that it was Astra and Cara waking you up to tell you that your breakfast was awaiting on Feyd’s balcony. You let them dress you up and you wondered why he hadn’t come to you after his training. You expected him to come back and fuck you senseless, especially after your teasing.

Perhaps you miscalculated your own charm’s possibilities. Perhaps you didn’t have as much sexual power over him as you liked to think. Perhaps you were a toy he was bored with already, soon to be pushed aside completely.

You couldn’t help but to feel that his recent behaviour had been your fault. Perhaps you started too fast, too boldly. Some of your last night’s and this morning’s actions made him change his attitude towards you.

After breakfast you went back to your own bedroom and sighed at the sight of your desk being empty. Still there were no letters from your father or your brother.

“Girls,” you asked for Astra and Cara and they rushed to you, “why aren’t you bringing me any correspondence?” You asked.

They looked at each other, surprised.

“Oh, my Lady, we would never miss any of your letters,” Cara assured you.

“We were not given any,” Astra shook her head. “We would never hide anything from you, na-baroness.”

“I know,” you smiled sweetly at her. “I was not angry at you,” you added and they sighed out of relief. “I was just simply wondering.”

You looked around, confused. You truly had no idea what to do with your whole day.

“Can you take me to that relaxation area? I am curious about it,” you proposed and they nodded their heads.

You left the room and they followed. The guards looked at you as if they wanted an explanation. You decided not to give them any and let your girls guide you.

They were only guards. They had no right to ask. But they looked stressed as they watched you walk away and disappear in one of the corridors.

Meanwhile, you tried to remember all the corridors on your way but they reminded you of a maze. Perhaps one day you would be able to walk freely and confidently through these halls. Perhaps one day you would be a baroness in this fortress. But that was not that day. In fact, you felt defeated and weak after realising that Feyd hadn’t visited you after his training session.

You were angry at yourself.

“It’s here, my Lady,” Astra pointed at one of the doors.

“Well, what are you waiting for, my sweet girls? Open the door,” you smiled at her.

“We are not allowed inside, na-baroness,” Cara bowed down.

“Why?” You furrowed your brow.

“No servant is allowed there. It’s a relaxation area, it’s for the nobility, my Lady,” Astra added. “We will wait here.”

“What if I want you to join me?” You asked.

“Please… We don’t want to be in trouble, na-baroness,” Cara looked down and you sighed.

You didn’t want them to get in trouble either. So you pushed the door open and entered the room by yourself.

You gasped at the sight of a huge room with a high ceiling. There was a glass dome in the middle of it and inside of it… green grass, trees and flowers. You approached it, mesmerised. You looked up and noticed a big lamp – so bright that it almost burnt your eyes out – some sort of a device to imitate the sun.

But the glass dome was not the only thing in that room. There were doors leading to other, smaller rooms. One of them was a sauna, one of them was a swimming pool with a huge window to watch Giedi Prime from above. There was some sort of a gym, too. And you were completely alone in this whole section.

You assumed the Baron was not here very often, if at all. You couldn’t picture Count Rabban or your husband visiting such a place either. It looked like you had your new favourite place in the whole fortress.

Carefully, you entered the glass dome and took a deep breath in. Oh, it felt so good. The air was so crispy and fresh. Not in a fabricated, filtered way like inside the fortress. It reminded you of the air back home on Caladan.

You basked in the fake sunlight and laid down on the grass lazily, closing your eyes and humming to yourself. You planned to visit the library tomorrow and bring yourself some books here.

But as nice as it was, it made you feel sad, too. You missed the warmth of the sun on your skin, you missed the colours of nature, the sounds… It was unnaturally quiet in that glass dome. It missed the sounds of birds and the waves crashing on the shore, the sound of life. You missed Caladan. But even if something happened and you were sent back to your family, it wouldn’t be Caladan either. It would be Arrakis – another unfriendly world.

You couldn’t believe suddenly that you had used to hate Caladan. You had hated its grey skies and rainy weather. How stupid you had been, how spoiled. You couldn’t wait to live on your grandparents’ planet. How naive.

How could you ever believe that your life would be easy and so simple?

You spent most of the afternoon in the relaxation area. When you left it, Astra and Cara were still standing by the door. You felt a little sorry for them.

“It’s time for dinner now, na-baroness,” they told you and you nodded your head before following them back to your chambers.

You were surprised to see Feyd on the balcony, too. He was sitting by the table already and eating some steak that looked more raw than cooked. It would be the first time you’d actually share a meal together on his balcony.

You quickly fixed your hair and dress in the mirror and took a deep breath in before joining him by the table. He looked up at you and you gave him a faint smile.

“You didn’t come to me,” you pointed out but he ignored you, “after the training,” you added. “I thought you always wanted to fuck after a fight.”

“Who said I didn’t fuck?” He muttered and still avoided your gaze.

You gritted your teeth at his answer. Was he getting bored of you already? Why was that? He had seemed to be so excited about you the previous night. About your hair, your breasts, everything that made other men on Giedi Prime jealous of him.

That was, until you had started to be nice and gentle to him.

You hesitated before answering him. It could lead you into big trouble and you weren’t sure if your body would be able to handle it.

“I have my needs, too, my Lord,” you risked and batted your eyelashes even though he wasn’t looking at you. Then you began to eat your own piece of steak. Yours was properly cooked, though. For which you were grateful.

Feyd moved his plate away before staring at you as if you were a riddle or a rebus. It was quite amusing.

“What?” You raised an eyebrow.

“You’re playing a game I do not fully understand but I can assure you it will not end well for you,” he threatened and you swallowed thickly.

Oh.

“I’m not playing any game, Feyd-Rautha,” you tried to hide your nervousness but the breath you took was shaky. You hated that in the black-and-white light he looked even more scary and even less human.

“You’re acting weird and I don’t like it,” he pointed out.

“Weird how?” You shook your head. “I don’t want to be here. I hate you, in fact. But I have to be here. I have to be your wife. I thought we could make it a bit more pleasant for the both of us if we were nicer to each other…” you reached out to caress his hand but he flinched away almost aggressively.

“This. I don’t like this,” he explained as his jaw clenched. You saw murder and confusion in his bright eyes.

“You don’t like my touch?” You asked, surprised. “Surely, it doesn’t hurt when I touch you.”

“I would like it better if it did,” he drawled out and your heart sank in your chest.

A wounded animal, you tried to remember.

“I’m sorry, my Lord. I did not mean to cause you any discomfort,” you nodded your head and silently went back to eating.

He remained stiff and observed you for a long while. You tried not to think about anything and left your head empty because if you focused on anything now, you would burst out in tears.

Your plan was not working. Nothing was working. You would be tossed aside soon. They would kill you. You didn’t mean anything to Feyd-Rautha. How could you?

When you finished your meal, you cleaned your lips with a napkin elegantly and cleared your throat before daring to lay your eyes on your husband once again.

“I am experiencing problems with my correspondence,” you told him. “I wish to speak to your uncle.”

You watched his reaction but he did not smirk or laugh. If there was some scheming behind your back to keep you away from your father’s letters, he was clearly not a part of it. It made you nervous. What if there was no scheming?

Feyd only nodded his head and stood up.

“Now?” You asked.

“I thought you wanted to,” he gave you an angry look.

“Well, I do, yes,” you stood up as well and followed him outside your chambers.

This time the guards did not look so stressed. After all, you were accompanied by the man who had owned you.

“Where were you before?” Feyd asked you on the way, sternly.

“Astra and Cara showed me to the relaxation area,” you explained.

“Who?” Feyd stopped and you had to stop as well to avoid bumping into him. He turned around and squinted his eyes at you.

“Astra and Cara. My servant girls,” you answered.

“You named them?” He was visibly surprised but there was lots of contempt in his voice as well.

“Why not? How would I address them otherwise?”

“You don’t address them. You give them orders,” he cupped your cheeks with one of his hands. His touch was rough as he brought your face closer to his. “I will slice their throats next time I see them,” he threatened.

“Wh-what? Why?” Your lower lip trembled at the thought. “You have no right… They are mine. They were given to me by your uncle. They’re my property…” You tried to think of something.

Feyd gave you a twisted smile as his eyes sparkled.

“I like you more like that,” he whispered. “I missed you, pet.”

Then he laughed and pushed you away again. He started walking down the corridor but you remained in your place for a while. When you finally caught your breath back, he was already far away, so you had to run up to him.

“Please, don’t hurt them…!” You begged and tugged on his sleeve.

“They keep you away from me. Maybe I’m jealous,” he teased and then he frowned at the sight of silent tears streaming down your cheeks. “Stop it,” he ordered.

“Stop what? I can’t control that!” You were frustrated with him. You wanted to punch him at the moment but you couldn’t. You couldn’t risk your girls’ lives. You wouldn’t handle losing Astra and Cara.

“I don’t like it when your eyes are wet,” he gritted his teeth and stopped in front of the huge doors leading to his uncle’s chambers.

You stopped, too, and you took a deep breath in, staring into your husband’s cold eyes.

“When my eyes are wet?” You asked in disbelief. “It’s called crying, Feyd,” you explained.

“I don’t like it,” he shook his head. “It makes me feel weird when you do that.”

You sniffed the tears back and dried your cheeks with the palms of your hands. You didn’t want the Baron to see you like this. You had to present yourself in the most dignified form in front of him.

However, you were quite pleased with the new discovery about your husband.

If your tears were making him feel weird, it meant that he still had some humanity buried deep inside. The weird feeling had to be pity or compassion or something of that sort. You could see that in the way his eyes were softening despite the anger, as if he was confused at his own reactions.

You wiped out the last tear and straightened yourself as your face became serious again.

“If you kill them, Feyd-Rautha…” You started and he smirked.

“Then what?” He chuckled.

“Then it will be as if you killed me,” you told him. “And what use is there of a broken pet?”

You didn’t wait for his answer. It was not like he would ever actually promise you not to kill your girls. And his promise would not mean anything anyway.

Your answer was not given to him to convince him. It was given there to confuse him.

Instead of waiting for his reply, you nodded at the guard to open the door and announce you the Baron.

When the Baron allowed you to come inside, you did. Feyd followed you behind and the doors closed behind you two.

You had never been in the personal chambers of Baron Valdimir Harkonnen before. They were awful and empty. There was a big tub full of black, slimy substance and he was sitting inside it. Two of his own slave girls were sitting on the edge alongside all the machinery keeping him alive. You tried very hard not to throw up all your dinner.

“Baroness,” Baron greeted you with a chuckle, “what seems to trouble you?”

You stood in front of the tub and Feyd stood behind you with his hands behind his back as if he was a servant himself. Loyal dog, you thought.

“I have not yet received any letter from my father nor brother. Am I supposed to believe that they are not interested in my fate, my Lord?” You asked. “I don’t understand why you are hiding them from me. I doubt you would let any of my letters leave Giedi Prime without you reading it first.”

“So you think I am hiding letters from you, baroness?” Baron squinted his eyes at you and you moved uncomfortably. You hated more than anything the way he was addressing you. “I’m going to be honest with you. It hurts me deeply that you think of me this way. You are no prisoner on Giedi Prime. It is your home now,” he explained calmly but no words leaving his disgusting mouth were ever honest or sincere.

“I can believe my father chose to discard me. But not my brother,” you shook your head.

“Oh, yes, yes, Prince Paul Atreides,” Baron mentioned his name with a chuckle, “in the last letter, I believe, your father wrote to me that your brother sends his love,” the last word seemed so out of place in his mouth and he looked disgusted to say it, too. “I forgot to mention it yesterday, forgive me, baroness. I was too focused on my darling nephew’s fight.”

“What do you mean in the last letter?” You clenched your fists.

“Tsk, tsk,” Feyd hissed behind you and took a step forward. You could feel his breath on your neck now.

It confused you. Was he there to intimidate you further or… to protect you from his uncle? You relaxed your fists. He was right either way – you shouldn't show the Baron your anger in such an obvious way.

“You are right, baroness. Your father is worried about you. He wrote to me to ask if you are adapting well. I replied that you are doing great,” Baron smirked. “I allowed myself not to mention your rebellious nature. We do not want to disappoint your father, do we?” He mocked.

But it was not that mockery that made your heart shatter. It was the fact – if the Baron was not lying, of course – that your father had chosen to send an official letter to the Baron instead of writing to you personally and asking about your wellbeing.

Baron Harkonnen watched your reaction carefully. You didn’t want him to see how sad it made you but it was probably too difficult to hide.

“I understand, my Lord,” you nodded your head. “I am sorry for making assumptions.”

“You are free to send your father a letter and I have no interest in reading it,” Baron added. “Is that all, baroness?”

“Yes, I’m sorry to bother,” you nodded your head and turned around to leave. Feyd followed you behind.

“Feyd,” Baron called for him, “stay for a moment. I have to talk to you about something.”

Your husband nodded his head and stayed behind as you walked out of the Baron’s chambers.

You didn’t go back to your bedroom yet, though. You waited for Feyd patiently as the guards in front of the door were watching you curiously. You couldn’t hear a word from the inside anyway, though. The walls were soundproof.

When Feyd finally pushed the doors open and left his uncle’s chambers, he was surprised to see you waiting for him. He grabbed your arm and pushed you to the wall as he stood above you in an intimidating manner.

“Eavesdropping, huh?” He asked, angrily.

“How could I with the walls being soundproof?” You drawled out through the gritted teeth. “I was waiting for you,” you explained and his grip loosened a little bit. “Doesn’t it make you angry when he calls me baroness?” You dared to ask, quietly.

“It’s faster to say it this way,” Feyd looked like his silly explanation was not satisfying enough even for himself.

“Am I not your wife, my Lord?” You swallowed thickly as his pupils darkened. “Am I not your property? Why is he trying to take that from you? Is he always making you share everything?” You pretended to ask innocently as you looked at him in a doe-like manner.

“You are my wife,” he let go of you and took a step back, “and you will shut your mouth,” he ordered. “Take her back to her room,” he told the guards and they nodded at him.

When you were being walked back to your chambers, you remembered the Baron telling you that you were no prisoner on Giedi Prime. How funny.

Astra and Cara were waiting in your room and you smiled widely at the sight of them. You approached them to give them a hug and they gladly hugged you back.

You didn’t want to tell them about Feyd’s threat. You hoped he had only threatened you to kill them because he enjoyed the fear in your eyes.

“What about the letters, my lady?” Cara asked.

“They are simply not coming,” you sighed and approached your desk. Your eyes landed on the picture of your father, Paul and you.

You grabbed it and took a better look at it. You were all standing proudly with the Atreides flag waving in the background. Your father – stoic as ever – strong leader and dignified man, looking up proudly. Paul with his boyish charm right behind him, his eyes were as absent as always. The future Duke. You were in the back, wearing one of your mother’s old dresses. You were the only one looking directly in the camera with a piercing gaze.

Suddenly, you got scared looking at your own self in that picture. As if it had always been your destiny to become a Harkonnen. There was something hungry about you in this portrait, something malicious even.

You smashed it on the floor as Astra and Cara widened their eyes.

“M-my lady,” Astra began shakily.

“I don’t want to see it anymore,” you told them and went to the bathroom. “Run me a bath.”

In the evening your girls dressed you in a sheer, black nightgown of your choice. You waited on your bed, wondering if Feyd would ask for you or come to you himself. You realised that he hadn’t touched you for the whole day and it was making you worried.

Astra and Cara were sitting by your bed and cleaning your jewellery in silence. You wanted them to be with you even though they could be doing that in their rooms.

Finally, the doors leading to Feyd’s bedroom opened and he walked inside. Your heart skipped a beat when he laid his eyes on your servant girls and licked his lips before chuckling contemptuously. Then he looked at you.

“Come to me,” he ordered and turned around to walk away. You sighed with relief and stood up to follow him.

You smiled at your girls and they nodded their heads at you.

The doors closed behind you and you spotted Feyd by the mirror, leaning on it and playing with his short knife.

“Come here,” he beckoned you over.

You walked slowly towards him, letting the fabric of your robe dance on your naked skin as the moonlight shone on you through the narrow windows. Your hair was loose and your nipples were hard already. He watched you with satisfaction and a wicked smile.

“My Lord,” you stood in front of him, a little scared of his next move. You didn’t like it when he was playing with his knife in front of you like that. One swift movement could slice your throat.

“You told me earlier you have your needs, too,” he breathed out and your heart sank in your chest. You had known you would eventually regret saying that. “Show me how much,” he dared you.

“W-what?” You didn’t completely understand what was expected from you.

“Show me how much you want me to fuck you, my Lady,” he explained.

You swallowed thickly at that. You knew that he addressed you sarcastically, but there was something about Feyd-Rautha calling you my Lady that made you itch right in your core.

However, you got shy at his command. You had no idea what to do. Every idea you could think of was suddenly idiotic and pathetic to you. You hated how he twisted the game you had started and now it was him tormenting you. Your lack of previous experience left you paralyzed. It had been easier to imagine such situations in your head. But now, in real life, you just had no idea what to do.

“Aw,” he raised your chin with the tip of his knife and you looked up, scared. “I knew that. My little pet is starting games she can’t finish,” he teased. “Such a timid little demon you are,” he hummed and stood behind you, with the blade still pressed to your throat. You could see him in the mirror’s reflection; standing behind you and placing his free hand on your hip to pull your body closer to his chest. “I was too rough with you,” he admitted. “I broke you,” he whispered into your ear.

“I… I am alright, my Lord,” you stuttered out.

“I don’t mean your body, my pet,” his hand moved to your womb and he pressed it possessively even though it was still empty. “A week ago you were an innocent, scared Princess. Now you’re a hungry whore,” he continued and you felt your cheeks heating up.

You wanted to protest but he pulled the fabric of your nightgown up to reveal your womanhood and he put his hand between your legs. You couldn’t deny his words now. He could already feel that you were excited. He laughed with contempt at you and you clenched your jaw.

“What is it that you want, little pet?” He asked you as his nose and tongue slid down your shoulder. His blade was still pointed at you.

“I want you to kiss me,” you dared to say and took a deep breath in, fearing his reaction. He froze for a second and looked up at you. “I want you to kiss me like you did at our wedding,” you explained. “Please, my Lord,” you pleaded.

There was no way he could not hear the way your heart was pounding in your chest. You only hoped he wouldn’t interpret it as fear – even though it was.

After a while of hesitation, he dropped the knife away and turned you around violently in his arms. He cupped your face with both of his hands and leaned in to give you a hungry, sloppy kiss like the one he had given you to seal your marriage union.

But this time you kissed him back. You weren’t just standing there and taking it as you had at your wedding. You wrapped your hands around him and scratched his back with your fingernails, knowing perfectly well it would spur him on. He moaned into your mouth and you smirked.

The way your tongues fought with each other, you couldn’t tell anymore if it was still an act of intimacy or a rivalry. When he broke the kiss, he licked your face slowly, mimicking the act from your wedding. But when he was done, you leaned in to lick him, too.

You surprised yourself that you didn’t find it disgusting. It came natural to you as if there had been some primal and animalistic urge in you, too. But you had never known about it until now.

Feyd’s eyes sparkled and he joined your lips again in another hungry, passionate kiss. This time you started to walk towards the bed and he allowed you to lead him until he felt the bed frame behind and stopped.

“Let me please you, my Lord,” you breathed out.

You hadn’t thought of it. It wasn’t part of your scheming. All those vulgarities were coming to you naturally in the heat of the moment. You couldn’t recognise yourself but you didn’t mind since it seemed to work.

“I thought you hated me,” he teased but his body was trembling from impatience. He was craving you so desperately that it was boosting your ego. The dangerous heathen Feyd-Rautha was craving you.

“I hate you as much as you hate me,” you pushed him down and began to crawl on top of him.

You doubted that he hated you. He just hated the way you would confuse his senses and feelings.

So, exactly like you hated him.

“I will be back tomorrow,” Feyd woke you up in the morning and you rubbed your eyes lazily.

“Hmm?” You asked and covered your mouth to yawn.

“I’m leaving with my uncle for a day. We will be back tomorrow,” he told you. “I forgot to tell you last night,” he smirked.

“Where are you going?” You asked. “Why am I not going, too?”

He didn’t answer. You assumed it was not an usual diplomatic mission, then.

“You can play with your pets when I’m gone,” he was about to leave the chambers already.

“They’re not my pets,” you denied but he only smirked and walked out.

You laid in bed stared at the ceiling for a moment, trying to remember the last night and overthink it in every detail. But it was impossible. It was so primal and unexpected that no logic applied to it.

Feyd had allowed you to be on top of him. He had allowed you to hurt him. To slap his face, to choke him, to scratch his chest until he bled. You marked his neck and shoulders with your lips – bites and hickeys all over. But what you had been feeling inside was not revenge. It had been a desire.

You winced at the memory of how good it felt to be on top of him. To reach your peaks one after another with him under you. You had been so hungry, you hadn’t wanted to stop. And he could stop you any moment but he had not because he had enjoyed it. He had been watching you with contempt but pleasure, too.

Pain and pleasure. What a delicious mix.

You stretched and sat up, sighing. If someone had told you after your wedding night that you’d grow to love it… You’d laugh.

Maybe it was your previous lack of experience. Maybe it made it so easy for him to shape you in the way he wanted to. To turn you into a monster similar to him.

You stood up and approached the mirror. Your body was marked, too. Especially your breasts. You caressed them and remembered how he sucked on them desperately. It was the moment when he visibly softened a little in a very unusual manner. When he had his face buried in your breasts, his guard went down a little, proving that you had been right all along. Your plan was good. You needed to use affection to wrap him around your little finger. You just needed more time and patience.

Astra and Cara carefully sneaked inside the bedroom with the dress already prepared for you to wear on that day. You smiled sweetly at them.

He hadn’t hurt them.

You took a huge book from the library that was explaining the past hundred years of the Harkonnen wars, conquers and victories. Barely being able to hold it in your hands, you entered the courtyard.

You decided to abandon your plan to spend the day in the relaxation area – it would not run away after all. And it was one of the very rare days when your husband and his uncle couldn’t control you. You had the opportunity to walk around the fortress more freely.

You had seen the courtyard from Feyd’s balcony but you had never been there yet. You sat on the stone bench and opened the book to read it. The black-and-white colours did not make any difference when it came to reading anyway.

After a while you spotted Count Rabban walking through the courtyard. He was watching you from the corner of his eye and you were watching him. When he passed you by, you closed the book loudly and hurried after him.

“Count Rabban,” you called for him and he slowed down for you to approach him. He looked at you with contempt and confusion. “We haven’t talked much yet,” you faked a smile.

“Indeed, my Lady,” he drawled out.

“I’m surprised to see you,” you continued, “I was sure you went with my husband and the Baron.”

“Clearly, I did not,” his jaw clenched. You struck the nerve.

“Can you tell me where they went, perhaps?” You batted your eyelashes, playing stupid and naive. “Feyd did not want to tell me,” you giggled.

You saw disbelief in his brutal eyes. He couldn’t believe you were that stupid and annoying most likely.

“Absolutely not, my Lady,” he nodded and walked away, entering one of the fortress’ corridors.

You followed him inside and changed the tone of your voice to a more serious one.

“You don’t know it either, do you?” You asked him and he turned around, surprised to hear the change in your voice. You spotted his fists clenching and the vein on his forehead popping. He was stopping himself from hurting you. You didn’t want to imagine what would happen to him if he laid his hand on you. You were almost tempted to find out what his uncle and brother would do to him if he hit you or threatened you.

You belonged to Feyd. And to some extent you belonged to the Baron. But poor Count Rabban, despite being a part of the Harkonnen family, could not do anything to you.

“They haven’t told you, my Lord,” you teased and approached him carefully. He was staring at you with so much rage and hatred that you almost started to regret it. “They don’t treat you equally here, do they?” You asked and he remained silent. “I know what it’s like. I have a younger brother who has always been favoured by my father… No matter what I did, no matter how hard I tried. He will inherit the title and I am here; discarded, thrown to the wolves. We are very alike, Count Rabban,” you whispered and watched his fists loosening. “I know we will most likely not be friends. But we do not have to be enemies. We are of the same pack now,” you told him softly and looked deep inside his eyes.

A long silence occurred between you two. Had he been ordered not to talk to you? Or was he too scared to answer any of these things? You couldn’t believe it was the man who was called Beast Rabban.

He could kill you in a moment. What was stopping him was simply… your power.

After a few nights with Feyd like the previous one, your power would be even greater.

“Have a good day, Count Rabban,” you nodded your head at him and turned around to go back to the courtyard.

“My Lady,” he nodded at you.

You smiled to yourself. He was terrified of his uncle. He would probably kill the Baron himself if he was not so scared. Count Rabban didn’t have to be eliminated. In fact, he could be useful later, when Feyd would already be a Baron.

And you – his beloved Baroness.

MASTERLIST