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seresinhangmanjake · 13 days

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The Harkonnen's Claim

Feyd-Rautha x Atreides!Reader

Summary: Your brother, Paul, took you from Feyd in a vulnerable moment, and if he wants the woman he loves back, he will have to give your brother something in return.

Notes/Warnings: this is part 2 of 2. Ignore canon ages in the timeline. I don’t know what they are, but everyone young is in their twenties, cool? Cool. Dune inaccuracies. Mention of pregnancy (present) and miscarriage (past). Jessica and Paul kind of (very much) suck. Feyd’s a soft boy for our reader. Smutty-ish (18+) and fluffy stuff, tidbit of angst. I'm sure there are spelling mistakes. I read it twenty times, but you know how it is. I think that’s it.

Words: 3300

Feyd Masterlist Part 1

You can’t see him—your eyelids are too heavy—but he’s shouting. Cursing. With each of his grunts glass shatters and metal clangs against the walls. Feminine voices are shrieking in sync with the rageful sounds coming from your lover and his actions. He is scaring them. He shouldn’t be scaring them. It isn’t their fault.

“Get out!” he yells.

More shrieks. Multiple pairs of feet rapidly shuffle about. The door slams and then Feyd is sitting beside you on the bed, one hand brushing your hair back from your forehead, the other rubbing up and down your forearm and pulling it onto his lap.

“My love…” he says, “It’s ok. You’re ok.”

You swallow hard and peel open your eyelids to see his face hovering above you. A sigh leaves his lips when his eyes connect with yours.

“They were only here to help,” you mutter.

Feyd bites down hard, sharpening the line of his jaw. He has much to say, you know, but he struggles to release his frustration in any manner other than shouting or fighting in the arena. Right now, he can’t do either.

“They did nothing to help,” he softly snaps.

But he’s wrong. The women he brought in to examine you did exactly as they were told. It’s just that their conclusion upon taking a look at you was not what he, nor you, expected to hear.

“Considering the excessive bleeding, she seems to have—” the woman paused; you could hear the tremble in her voice “—lost the baby, my Na-Baron. I’m very sorry.”

Neither of you has spoken about heirs or lineage or combining the genetics of Great Houses. You hadn’t even known of your pregnancy until you heard them tell Feyd that you are no longer carrying the child, and yet, you feel a tremendous loss. You instantly wonder what that child would have been. A boy? A girl? Would they have been a warrior like their father? Or more level-headed like their mother? Maybe a combination of both—that would probably be best for everyone.

“We’ll try again when you feel better,” Feyd tells you, leaning down and pressing his forehead into yours.

Slowly closing your eyes, you reach a hand up to rest on the back of his neck, your thumb caressing between his ear and the curve of his jaw. “Feyd, we weren’t trying to begin with.”

“Does that mean we shouldn’t?” he asks. “You are meant to be the mother of my heir.”

You sigh. “Feyd–”

“You are,” he demands, but you can detect his hidden plea. “You will be.”

—

They are scared of him—your son—or, at least, she is.

With your ear pressed against the door, you can hear them in the halls. Mother and son arguing over your value.

“Get rid of them, Paul, while you still can,” Lady Jessica implores him. “It’s in our best interest. You have no idea the kind of man she will raise that baby to be.”

But Paul has embraced his new role. There’s no hesitation in how he speaks to her anymore. His words are firm, but well-chosen. He truly was born to be a leader, just not the leader the Universe agreed on.

“The boy will one day be the Baron, and by then, he will have grown stronger than most, his father included,” Paul confirms. “But we only benefit from having that on our side. From Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen’s need for my sister, an alliance will be formed that could last decades, maybe centuries. But if you harm her, he will come at us in a way his House never has before. And if he finds out you also took his child from him then he’ll spend the rest of his life hunting you, me, Alia…Chani…your future grandchildren—he won’t stop.”

Paul sighs. You can picture him running his hand through his curly locks. He’s done that ever since he was a child. From the moment his little hand could reach above his head, his fingers would be playing with that hair. His mother scolded him wherever he did it in front of the other families of great Houses. ‘Makes you appear anxious,’ she would say, and no son of hers was permitted to come off as anything but respectable in front of their equals. She knew of the man he would one day become. But her nagging didn’t help him in the end.

“Paul, listen to m–”

“QUIET,” he commands in the Voice that seems to ripple through the halls. “You act as if I won that duel without effort. As if I could do it again in my sleep. But not only did he survive what should have killed him, he almost killed me,” he reminds her. “So do not let your hatred for my sister lead us down a vulnerable path.”

You pull your ear away from the door. How strange that you always knew she hated you and yet never heard it from anyone’s lips until now. You can’t say it hurts, but it does affirm that the only thing keeping you alive is the one thing you didn’t want to be: Feyd’s weakness. He’s saving you even though you’re out of reach. You and the baby he put inside of you.

You run your hand over your clothed stomach. There’s no physical evidence of your pregnancy, but now that you know he’s there you can feel him…somehow. You feel his strength. You feel his grit. You feel what Lady Jessica fears, and you love it. You hope she lives in fear for many years, always keeping one eye on the half-Harkonnen child that her son commanded her to spare.

The doorknob twists and you quickly back away as Paul steps into your bedroom. His brows pinch when he sees how you’re standing in the middle of the room. You’re not resting, you’re not admiring the scenery outside your window, there’s no book in your hand—you look suspicious. You can practically hear his thoughts. What were you doing, sister?

“It’s time to go,” he tells you, stepping closer. You don’t have a chance to reply before the command “SLEEP” weaves into your brain. Your eyes close. Your body goes limp into your brother’s arms. Your mind shuts down. You’re gone.

—

It’s bright. The inside of your eyelids are glowing the same orange shade as the flower your father traditionally gifted you on your birthday. It’s brighter than Caladan and Arrakis. A brightness you know only comes from Giedi Prime’s midday sun.

You're moving but not by your own feet. Your eyelids flutter to adjust to your surroundings, and when they open, you find yourself tucked against a chest. An Atreides soldier, once your father’s, now sworn to serve your brother.

“Put me down,” you mumble, but he doesn’t. “Put me down!”

“Put her down if she wants to be put down,” Paul says. “She won’t go anywhere. This is exactly where she wants to be.”

You’re set on your feet, but the soldier’s hand wraps around your bicep as the group comes to a halt. You do a quick glance around. Sixteen soldiers, suitably armed and shields activated. More on the ship likely, ready to attack if necessary. One Bene Gesserit bitch. One intended emperor with the skin of your brother. And you, anxiously awaiting him.

“Atreides!”

Feyd steps out of the Harkonnen fortress alone. He walks down the lengthy walkway alone. He has a blade at his hip, a shield, but no soldiers. You know they are somewhere, though, hiding, waiting for his call if needed.

As the distance between you lessens, tears attempt to blur your vision, but you blink them away. Your legs quiver, and you would collapse to your knees if not for the vice grip on your arm. He’s alive. He’s so beautifully alive. He’s broad, and strong, and he’s stomping toward your brother like a predator honing in on its prey. You didn't know for sure what he would look like after near death, and the last two weeks gave your mind the will to run wild, but he's perfect. Like it never happened.

“Paul, you must reconsider,” Lady Jessica whispers from behind him. “We do not need him.”

“I decide who and what we need,” he says. “My sister, my negotiations.”

She tips her head and steps back into place before shooting you a glare that you refuse to acknowledge.

Feyd is closing in, but his next step is deemed too close for Paul. Weapons are drawn. A blade presses into your neck. Feyd pauses.

“Give me what's mine, Atreides!” he snaps.

He’s seething and makes no attempt to hide it as he paces along the invisible line your brother has drawn. His brow is low, a shadow over the blue eyes piercing through Paul’s head. He hasn’t looked at you, but you know he won’t. Not directly. He already knows what your brother has over him and there’s no need to remind him by giving in to the internal panic he’s fighting.

“Yours?” Paul returns. “She’s not yours yet, Harkonnen, so it would be wise of you to cooperate.”

Feyd practically growls, pale lips splitting to reveal black teeth as Paul gestures for you to stand beside him. The soldier shoves you forward and you turn to smack at his wrist.

“I know how to walk,” you grumble. “Bastard.”

Paul clasps his hands behind his back. “You want her; that is understandable. She wants to be with you, too. You should have seen how she fell apart when she thought you were dead,” your brother taunts. His tongue clicks to make a tsking sound.

Feyd’s fingers twitch at his side, itching to grab the hilt of his knife. You know a layer of red bleeds across his vision. His thoughts are a jumble of demands bouncing around his skull. Kill. Maim. Destroy. Take what’s yours. But he can’t. And, excluding his uncle, Feyd hasn’t ever faced a situation where he can’t do as he pleases with whatever stands in front of him.

“Do not push him too far, Paul,” you mutter in warning. “He's not alone, either.”

Your brother ignores you, voice raising as he says, “And your son? You would like to have him as well, yes?”

The pacing stops. Feyd’s lips softly part. His eyes widen ever so slightly and he finally looks at you. When you lightly nod, his jaw clenches.

Paul doesn’t miss the silent communication. “So,” he says, lifting his chin a half-inch, “are we calm now?”

Feyd inhales a deep breath and huffs it out through his nose. He does it again and again, chest puffing out then deflating like an animal desperate to strike. ‘Calm’ isn't exactly how you would describe him—good, you expect nothing less—but he’s not displaying the same heightened level of fury.

“What do you want, Atreides?” Feyd grunts.

“Loyalty,” Paul doesn’t hesitate to answer. “You are my cousin. You love my half-sister and the two of you will share a child, assuming you can behave yourself. Family should inherently be loyal to family, I believe. That’s a fair place to start.”

“To start?” Feyd spits. “Do not play with me, cousin. Tell me all that you want from me now.”

Paul’s lips curve in a slight smile. The same modest smile he used when greeting guests of your father’s. You have your own version of that smile. They are smiles capable of hiding secrets. Like the smiles you would give Lady Jessica in front of your father, and the smile Paul gave Princess Irulan when he formally claimed her hand days after the duel.

However, there are no secrets behind the smile this time. He knows exactly what he wants from your lover and takes pleasure in revealing the totality of it.

“This war is just beginning,” Paul tells Feyd. “The other Houses reject my leadership. You will not. You will make a public declaration that the Harkonnens will fight for me, alongside the Fremen,” he says. “If you refuse to fulfill this, I will return with every fighter I have. My sister will be our primary target and you will fail to protect her…again.”

The disrespect lingers in the air. To force a Harkonnen to kneel to an Atreides is a power Feyd once told you only you possess. But it appears Paul has forced an unexpected exception.

“There's nothing for you to debate, I imagine,” Paul says. “Not when it comes to the woman you love and your child.”

Paul gives a winning smirk at your lover’s silence—Feyd’s glare is answer enough.

With a hand firmly on the center of your back, your brother guides you forward. “Go on,” he instructs. “There's no reason to keep him waiting.”

You turn your head back to Paul, expecting a trick, but when he nods in encouragement you rush over to Feyd in a light jog so as not to get tangled up in the skirts you can’t wait to tear off your body. A pale hand reaches out for you and curls around your waist when you’re close enough to be pulled against his chest. A kiss lands on your hairline before his forehead falls to rest on yours.

“You're not hurt?” he asks.

“I'm fine,” you promise him.

“This will never have to become complex, Harkonnen,” Paul calls from his side. Your heads raise to look at him. “Your House now fights for mine. If loyalty is upheld, personal lines will not be crossed. In other words, your child and woman are safe from me as long as my empress, concubine, and children are safe from you.”

Feyd’s Adam’s apple bobs harshly with his hard swallow; another practice in tamping down his rage.

“I’m glad we can all walk away from this satisfied,” Paul continues, grinning ear to ear. “Except for my mother, of course. Were she given her way, my sister would be cut open on the floor and her womb ripped out of her. She doesn’t believe a Harkonnen can exercise restraint and respect agreements. I’m sure you’ll prove her wrong.”

Your dress tightens at your waist from Feyd’s fingers fisting into the material. “Keep your head,” you gently whisper. “Let him go.”

“You have three days to officially announce your allegiance,” Paul tells the two of you before turning to his ship. He enters first, followed by his mother who gives you a final look of disapproval, and then, two-by-two, his soldiers. Not until they’re a speck in the sky does Feyd place a hand on your cheek, guide your face to his, and seal his lips to yours.

—

He intends to burn the dress to ash in the built-in incinerator that the Harkonnens consider a fireplace. Before now, you haven’t seen it demonstrate its purpose. Feyd refused. “We do not need that,” he would tell you, somewhat offended when you would request a bit more warmth in the middle of the night while he was next to you. He’d strip himself of any clothing he might’ve been wearing and tuck you into his side. “See? You’re fine now.”

Tonight, however, he’s quick to turn the thing on and let it heat up as he takes his knife to the back of your gown, slicing through the buttons that trace along your spine until the material slips off your body. He helps you out of the ring of destroyed fabric at your feet before wadding it into a ball and tossing it into the flames.

Feyd hums, satisfied, then piece by piece the armor falls from his form until he’s bare with his body to yours, his lips sucking and nibbling, fingers kneading and exploring, cock easing in and out of your core. You cry as he bites into your neck, and soak in the moment for what it is compared to what it could have been had he not survived. How alone you would be. How distraught over what would become of you.

But he did survive. He’s here. You have him. His lips and teeth and touch and cock and heart—all yours. You have the warmth of his breath that brushes your face and neck and shoulders. You have his groans and moans; the perfect sounds he makes when he first enters you and when he cums. Everything you thought you’d lost is wrapped tightly in your arms. Safe. Protected.

He finishes inside of you twice, and as he begs for one more, the ache between your thighs tempts you to remind him he already got you pregnant. But when you study the tenderness in his eyes, your desire refreshes, the pain washes away, and you can’t get enough. You take until he can no longer give—when all he has the energy for is holding and kissing.

Feyd leans over you in the bed, your legs intertwined under the sheets and his hand at the back of your head as his mouth moves with yours.

“W-Wait,” you say between kisses. He hums against your lips and when you tilt your head back, he makes a noise of protest before joining them again. “I-I’m ser-ious.”

With his brow pinched, he pulls back to stare into your eyes. “What’s wrong?”

You worry your bottom lip between your teeth as you search for a delicate way to question the effectiveness of his new authority. “Feyd, what’s going to happen? What will everyone think?” you ask. “Your people? Your soldiers?”

“That’s what bothers you right now while in this bed with me?” You nod. He sighs. “I observed my uncle in his time as Baron. I’m capable of explaining these changes in a manner that will have them think nothing of it. Should an outlier take issue, they will face the known consequences. The rest will do as I command,” he says, emphasizing his words with another kiss. “Just as they will do as you command and as our son will one day command.”

You shake your head. “Don’t be silly. No one on Giedi Prime will listen to me,” you tell him. “My voice doesn’t mean anything to them.”

“They'll respect the voice of their Baroness.”

Your brows raise. “Your wife?”

Feyd smirks and dips his head into the curve of your neck to lick and suck at sensitive skin. “Do you have objections, my love?”

It would be a lie to say you haven’t imagined being Feyd’s wife. It didn’t occupy your every thought, but it crossed your mind. Like when he would pluck out the eyes of the men who leered at you or remove the tongues of those who scoffed when you spoke. Or when you would watch him sleep and his face was unable to maintain the hard, stony stare that he brought back with him after dealing with his uncle. He’d be serene, the epitome of peace, and it was so lovely that sometimes you couldn’t help yourself. You would kiss his puffy lips until he woke to reciprocate, which led to him spreading your legs wide and stuffing his hard column of flesh between your folds. His ability to be gentle in his cruel world was how you knew he would be a good husband—to you, anyway. You have no idea the fate of his marriage were there a different bride.

His tongue runs over the bite mark and you gasp. “N-No.”

Lips trail along your jawline as his hand slides from the base of your neck between the valley of your breasts to settle on your stomach.

“He'll be strong,” Feyd says, looking at you. “Our boy.”

You chuckle. “Stronger than you, I heard.”

Feyd swallows, then nods in acceptance. “Good. He’ll need to be,” he says, thumb stroking just above your navel. “The only Atreides my son will answer to is his mother.”

A/N: i'd be open to doing future fics for them if anyone is interested. you can send in requests if you want, no pressure. I have a different feyd fic in the works atm as well

@unicoreads @haehwasworld @moonsoulk @lothiriel9 @landlockedmermaid77 @vintageroses10 @mamawiggers1980 @mrsjobarnes @aoi-targaryen @buckysteveloki-me @pao-prazz @skel-skell @barnes70stark @pekusofixus @vanilla88 @niragiswhore @benwishaw

#feyd rautha x reader #feyd rautha x you #feyd rautha #dune part 2 #austin butler #feyd x reader #dune #feyd rautha harkonnen #dune movie

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firelilyfox · 2 months

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Power over you

Dune: Paul Atreides x female reader

Warnings: NSFW / going down on her / cursing / explicit se&ual actions

Paul likes to be in charge

Words: 1k

_______________________

His touch leaves your skin burning.

Your heartbeat doubled when he grabbed you by the neck, forcing you to look him directly in the eyes. Such lovely eyes, yet so full of a dark desire. The same desire you feel in every fiber of your being.

„I’ve been imagining this the whole day. You are driving me insane, love.“ His thumb gently touching your lips to part them a little bit. Paul thinks about so many things those lips of yours could do and what he would do in return for you.

You give him a cheeky grin. „That was the plan, Atreides. See it as a challenge on how long you could hold yourself back.“ You let your hands explore his tense chest. Feel every muscle moving under his thin shirt, as you touch him. The power you have over him makes the desire even more intense. His eyes darkened as your fingertips reach the waistband of his pants and his breathing just got heavier. There is no doubt about how much Paul wants you right now. The thought of you doing some bad things were in his mind for hours, so much that he had trouble on focusing on the important meeting he had with Stillgar and some other Fremen … he don’t even remembered what it was about. Paul was only thinking of you, being willingly under his control. So that he could do whatever he desires to.

„Even if I wanted to hold myself back… I wouldn’t be able to“, his voice was not more than a breathy whisper. Paul caged you with his body against the wall. Your back fully pressed against hard stone, but you couldn’t care less. „I’m so fucking weak when it comes to you.“

He kissed you with a hunger that can not be satisfied. He would never get enough of this. Paul knew he would never get enough of you. His strong hands reached beneath your thighs, lifting you up so that you could wrap your legs around his waist. A little moan escaped your mouth and it made him grin a winning smile. Paul knows exactly how much you wanted him. And it made him proud like nothing else could do.

You could feel his length through the fabric of his pants, making you even more impatient to feel him all over you … and deep inside. Your fingers clawing onto his back, probably leaving marks on it. Paul was kissing you until you run out of breath, then moving his lips to your throat, making it even harder for you to concentrate. He knows all your weak spots and how to use them against you.

His hands exploring your thighs and hips. Holding you with a strong grip so that you couldn’t escape him at any chance. Not that you wanted to. Your fingers running through his dark curls, pulling it gently. He growls. Paul is not the only one who knows how to use weak spots. Now he lost all hesitation that was left to this point. He tightens his grip around your hips, moving you from the wall to the next table. A surprised smile shows on your lips and he kissed it like he wanted to make it his own.

You impatiently pulling his shirt until he lets go of you for a split second so you could drag it over his head. His bare chest and the defined abs came to light and you lose no time to let your fingers explore every inch of his body. You can feel him shivering beneath your touch. Paul decides that it was his turn now. He loves watching you enjoying your power over him, but to see you loosing your mind because of him and what he would do is even more of a turn on for him.

He pulls the straps of your dress down, so that the useless fabric is now laying around your waist. His eyes wandering down your body, admiring every part of it. Even the scars from the many battles you fought. Some of them by his side.

„You are so fucking beautiful, my love.“

You wanted to say something, but suddenly his lips were on your collarbone and the ability to form words vanished from your brain with every kiss he places on your skin, making his way down to your weakest spot. His tongue begins to move and a sharp scream bursts out of your chest. You grab his hair to keep him right there. Nothing in the world could bring Paul to go somewhere else. He enjoyed this way to much. Feeling you loose control. Tasting how much you want him. One of his hands pressing on your lower belly to make the incredible feeling even more intense. Every part of his body was screaming for you, but he wanted to make sure that you get what you deserve first.

The moment Paul was using his fingers to help his tongue was the exact moment your world shattered into thousand pieces. You couldn’t hold your own body up, so you laid your head back and let the feeling of satisfaction take control over you. Your thighs shaking uncontrollably as Paul shoves you over the cliff.

He loved that. He would fucking kill somebody for the satisfaction of making you shake like that.

Slowly he comes back to his feet. Pulling your hips to the edge of the table. Your vision was a little blurry, but you could see that beautiful, dark smile he gave you. Paul placed a soft kiss on your lips, as he shoved himself deep inside you. Your fingernails scratching the skin of his back. Paul moans against your lips and begins to move his hips against yours. The rhythm started slowly but became faster with every thrust. Your legs wrapped tightly around his waist, his arms holding you so very close to him and the both of you moving in perfect harmony.

As both of you reached the climax, out of breath and sweaty all you hear, was the wild beat of your own heart, pounding at the same rhythm as Pauls. He leaned his forehead against yours, eyes closed and lost in the moment.

„I love you, y/n“, Paul whispered.

You kiss him softly. „And i love you, Paul.“

_______________________

Thanks for reading! Comments, Likes & Reblogs are very welcome (but no stealing pls) <3

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controld3vil · 2 months

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sand walking?

pairing(s): dune 2 cast x actor!reader (platonic!!)

synopsis: requested by this ask!

⤷ alt: how to seduce someone walking on sand.

notes: there hasn't been confirmed for dune 3 yet but denise villeneuve has said he's writing for it to happen. ill patiently wait for the day it's confirmed :) ALSO there are fictional/made-up mentions of the novel for the sake of the reader. they're made to be gender-neutral!! and this includes platonic flirting between cast members. i MAY have gotten carried lmaoo

“I mean- what do you think of the character? Do you think they deserved more screen time?” The clip starts off with you comfortably conversing with the interviewer. To say you weren’t deflecting their curiosity. In actuality, you were eager to learn what others thought about your performance and take on the character. The only other interpretation had on-screen was from the classic 1984 film by David Lynch.

The clip that has been widely retweeted back is of a cute moment you had from the first film of Dune (2021). Before release, little was known about your character’s potential. Apart from the enthusiastic book lovers, film viewers were clueless about what role your character would play after the first movie.

Denise Villeneuve didn’t reveal much to you in person. He wanted to keep ideas confidential until he was 100% on board making the project come to life. Still, rumors sparked through speculation and interviews with the cast members of Dune. Including an infamous short, that you forgot about, of yourself boasting about your hopes and wishes for your character.

“Yes! How could we not!” On the opposite side, the interviewer exclaimed as they leaned forward from their chair, closing into your proximity. Their hands clenched, tightening their grip on the flash card, full of questions. “The movie left us on such a cliffhanger. I think everyone would want to know what happened to Nerre,”

“That’s for Denise to decide,” Nodding you gave a relaxed smile while lifting one leg over the other. Your shoulders relaxed, feeling content and ecstatic about their response. “I can’t confirm anything until he gives me the green light to say anything,”

“I’ve also talked to Timothée this morning,” A shift in gears as the journalist flipped over another flashcard. You two had just fussed about the finale and its dramatic cliffhanger. “And all he had to say were the sweetest things about you,” At the mention of your costar compliments, you felt your skin heat up. Your eyes soften, expressing only fondness for the lovely message. A soft awh escaped your breath. “He’s very sweet. Timothee's always been fun to be around.” A fervent chuckle from the interviewer sends them into a feverish excitement. “And- he said- you had great flirting skills!” It was then your face morphed into complete shock and giddiness . “Really?!” The camera pans up on your initial reaction, eyes popping out in surprise and a bubbling laugh slowly erupting. “I’m glad someone appreciates my talents!”

Without context, the short clip seemed harmless. Your sheer reaction to Timothee's comment emphasized the fun chemistry the two of you had on set. Mirroring much of Paul and Nerre's friendship, you both complimented each other well in the first film, being the youngest surrounded by well-renowned actors. But the reason for the recent spike of interest was partially from Dune: Part Two and their interviews.

Fast forward to the debut of Dune: Part Two, it made success at the box office. Even surpassing the first film altogether. The entire cast of Dune was proud of the work they've made. The introduction of new characters played by wonderful actors and actresses all around.

Weeks after the early IMAX screenings, press interviews were being published amongst of the young cast members. A particular interview by IGV Presents brings together Timothee Chalamet, Zendaya, Florence Pugh, Austin Butler, and yourself.

This would be considered to be one of your first interviews with the Dune cast after the box office release. You felt nervous yet overjoyed at the same time to be meeting your co-actors again after the conclusion of filming had taken place.

The spokesperson of IGV, Simon Harkness starts off the interview strong with a pleasant greeting. "Congratulations on an incredible movie. Uhm it is the definition of a sci-fi blockbuster and is absolutely phenomenal, so huge congratulations to you all!"

"Thank you!" The five of you all politely cherish his kind words.

"It's so lovely to talk to you. Um- Timothee, Zendaya, I'm going to start with you. This is probably the hardest question I've ever asked in an interview so you've been warned." An endearing giggle can be seen from Zendaya before allowing him to continue. "Sand walking, who does it better?"

Timothee immediately lifts up his microphone. "I'm going to give it to Zendaya here." Without glancing at her, you could tell Zendaya was happily smiling at his compliments. How quick he was to answer made it seem how well connected the cast was even given the amount of time spent together. The main lead continues very swiftly, diving more into how cinematic the shot was from an outside perspective, "I think it's the most- one of the most cinematic shots in the movie and she really has it very precisely down but it's the nature of the movie too that she's supposed to be better than Paul,"

"Is that what it is?" In return, Zendaya who sat next to him gave him a teasing look.

Quietly from afar where you sat, next to Austin Butler, you whispered. "He acted like he couldn't do it but," Soft snickering can be heard across the room.

"In fairness to me, I was going 65%- 65 to 70 too hard," Chalamet reasons justly as he glances in your direction before looking back to the interviewer.

"You dumbed it down," Harkness nods in a high-spirited manner. Right after, Timothee reluctantly agrees, keeping the mood light-hearted.

"I had to!"

"Just how committed you are!" Austin steps in, joining in on the joke.

"Zendaya, you can take that crown. I love that," The brown-haired man reassures as she recuperates with appreciative laughter. In truth, it was a beautiful scene between Paul and Chani you were lucky enough to witness behind the camera. And contrary to their light banter, you thought both actors did well at accomplishing what it was meant sand walk. Truthfully you had no scenes beyond walking through the desert but understanding the mechanics and traditions of the Fremen was as fascinating as it was watching it up close.

Suddenly it was Florence's turn to speak, "Zendaya taught me the other day and I had to just stop to stare at her feet."

"The swoopy swoop?" You asked in a cutesy tone, with furrowed eyebrows. You couldn't help but remember the few instances you witnessed your costars practice the sand walk to be one of the more adorable rehearsals you've seen on the sand.

"Yeah, her feet were so pretty! She was doing the swoopy swoops," The blonde acknowledges, waving her hands in a zig-zag pattern. As the replication of water and how her feet moved.

The interviewer's eyes light up, "Honestly I tried to swoopy swoop at home- um because we have a carpet in the bedroom."

"How did it go?" The mixed actress puts forward.

"Awful!" An assembly of bewilderment is seen between Zendaya and Florence as they quickly question why. However, they reassure him in the end that they would practice together in hopes of him archiving the sand walk.

Talks with simple questions went down the row. Florence discusses her experience from her beginnings, starring in Little Women, comparing those scenes in terms of royalty to Dune. In both films, she's worked with well-known actors and now Christopher Walken as the emperor and her father. She raves about how it was a dream come true. A dream she had when she was little. From this experience, Florence emphasizes the concept of learning and observing her fellow actors.

Another intriguing topic follows Austin for his experience between learning choreography fighting and Elvis's iconic rubber legs. In a sense, as you leaned forward on one of your seats, you became fascinated by the Elvis actor's comparison of it all. While Elvis's moves were televised and had to be precise for the camera, being a Harkonnens gave him more leverage in the freedom to move. It was a captivating question that you couldn't help but want to listen to more.

Comparisons aside, you didn't have much to note for your upcoming question. Which is exactly why you felt unprepared for what he was going to ask.

Harkness brings up your name for the finale. "You have done stunt work before. For the first and now second film, I've heard you compared it to rather- dancing. Is that what you think your relationship with the choreography has been?"

You gave a content hum, "You see it with the Fremen or Harkonnens right? Everyone moves so differently and for the course for me, I've had to adjust my choreo little by little. And I think that analogy you mentioned really does relate back to dancing. I don't know if it's because I was once a dancer or that I'm a visual learner," You shrug your shoulders, "But I see the choreography as a dance routine. You're moving alongside people, doing hits and jabs. Both are very hands-on so I would like to approach it as something I can always work on." Satisfied with your answer, you clapped your hands together.

"Kind of like sand walking no?" It was then that Zendaya swerved counterclockwise to face you.

Bringing back the conversation they had in the beginning about sand walking, your eyes instantly brighten. "Exactly like that!"

"I feel like you would be great at sand walking," Florence puffs, mindlessly shaking her microphone back and forth. "You- You already got the moves." Even Timothee came into agreement, humming and commenting you worked well with the choreography.

Austin Butler raises his microphone. "I think you gotta learn with me because I don't think I could,"

"Nonsense!" You give him a silly glare. "If you can do a killer rubber leg, I think you can sand walk." Florence and Zendaya both mumble their support and your male costar leans to have his arm around the back of your chair, warmly.

"Is that an open invitation I see?" The spokesperson, Harkness giggly pokes at than the rest of the cast turns to look at you. Your scowl morphs into an innocent one.

"Hm?" As you squint your eyes in hesitation.

"I feel like you could have the potential to sand walk but just with the right partner," Timothee chimes in, spreading his arms over his chair as well. Your brows furrowed accusingly, as if wanting to clarify what he meant by his comment.

And the French actor gives you a look, one you became so sure of. "Mm right!" A slight eruption of laughs before you straightened your back with proper posture. "With just the right partner,"

There were also hints mentioned in your interview with Timothee surprisingly not. This was one of the more recent ones to be published, as you finally were able to pair up with your favorite co-star (besides Brolin) from the first film. The two of you had strong chemistry despite having less screen time together in the second film.

The beginning of the video cuts to a clip of you answering an innocent question. "What I think about every day, is Timothee going to send to me a meme today? Uh, I hope so!" You give a sarcastic look to your seat partner as he latently laughs in front of you. "Or when is he going to text me you know?"

It then transitions to an interviewer from Heart commercial radio as he shouts out your names. "How are you both?"

"I'm doing good!"

"Going great!"

The radio show was more relaxed than you would've expected as the spokesperson was very down to the earth with his conversation starters and contagious warmth. Timothee was able to catch up with him from his last interview when he premiered his Wonka film. Eventually, the interview became more casual discussing working together, cooking, and trendy topics.

Timothee and you both went back and forth on favorite memories you had of the first film. And talking about the new cast members and new elements it had brought to the table for the film itself.

"Cool new characters this time," As you played around with the fuzzy microphone the camera crew gave to you.

"Yup lots of new people to meet," Timothee adds on, nodding.

The interviewer proceeds with the question, "And also you have seen- there's a clip about of you running around actually." He signals to you, "Of your reaction to something Timothee said about your performance in the first film,"

"Oh! I've seen it," Almost instinctively, your co-star raises his hand. "I was supposed to send it to you but I forgot." As he turns, to finds you looking lost at the topic at hand.

"Really what was it?" You almost looked concerned, seeing how you didn't understand what they meant.

Luckily for you, the Heart radio spokesperson managed to get a hold of the video from his phone, "It was a little callback of Timothee raving about your flirting skills."

As it plays, the camera zooms in on you and your co-actors reaction. The French actor couldn't help but look slightly embarrassed but smitten when the timing of your reaction came on screen. While you held an intrigued stance, arms crossed and a content grin.

"I am pretty good at flirting,"

"You really are, huh." At the same time, you both turn to make eye contact.

"I also heard Tim- that you thought that they would be your love interest initially?" At the radio speaker's inquiry, you couldn't help but in mid-sentence, finally, swerve your head suddenly.

"Yeah well, fun fact actually," The male actor tries to reason, sitting up. "In the novels, Paul and Nerre almost did become a couple!"

It was a well-known fact of that in the first novel, there had been slight changes to the story. Initially, it was said that the author, Frank Herbert had planned for Paul and Nerre, the character you played to have a romantic connection after the fall of House Atreides. Nevertheless, it was later scrapped for another plot, that of instead having Chani as the love interest. But even decades later after the novel’s release, it was something fans still fuss about.

"Oh, I heard about that!" Almost in awe, you nodded, your attention fully on Chalamet, wondering how far he was willing to go beyond spoilers.

"Do you think Nerre would ever meet someone then?" The afro man questions, adjusting his microphone. "Since- Paul has Chani, I feel like if we ever get a potential third film, that could open some doors!"

"If a third film could happen," You start, fiddling with the lining of the mic cover, "I hope so! I mean I got the moves, I got the skills!"

"Keep practicing your sand walk and we'll see," Timothee cutely chimes as you proceed to blow a raspberry at him. Only for him to lightly swat you away.

Despite your failures to have scenes of sand walking, your cast of a crew were more than happy to show you. Javier Bardem and Jessica Ferguson were quite supportive in your interest for something you did not have any part-time. A few behind the scene videos show the actor demonstrating from afar the slower version of the walk.

Though your back was facing the camera, viewers would pick up and recognize it to be you. Jessica as well was off to the side, in her luminescent costume of a million robes, clapping from side to side.

Another later pans to you taking long strides across the sand in the background. In front of the camera are Josh Brolin and Javier having their turn in the video, to discuss their relationship and the previous they have worked on together. However, viewers couldn't help but pinpoint your figure alongside the frame trying to master the patterns of what Javier taught you from the previous clip.

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austinbutlerslovers · 2 months

Text

Feyd Fantasy Part 6

Label Mature 18+

Brazen Baron

Summary

Feyd Rautha has a massive coronation. Excitement fills the air as his people look forward to a better future for the planet improving beyond his uncles reign.

Feyd begins blurring all the lines of his Harkonnen heritage for you. Everything he has been raised to value crumbles when he’s in your presence. You give him everything he never knew he desired and his infatuation for you becomes even deeper. His Lord in waiting takes notice and fears for his sanity and rational thought.

Will his undying love for you make him a great ruler or a passive counterfeit?

⚠️ Hardcore Smut ⚠️

Semi public sex •coercion• Feyd Dom• female restrained for sex•clit play• resisting arousal•FeydSub• Feyd handcuffed for sex • Feyd collared for sex• Feyd crop whipped•multiple ejaculations•Feyd Bj •Feyd violent sex•Feyd forced to orgasm•multiple orgasms•multiple cream pies

Feyd Fantasy Series

Part 1• Part 2• Part 3• Part 4• Part 5• Part 6•Part 7

All Genre Master List

✍🏼 Proofwriter @faegoddessog 🫦 Smut consultant @burnthheparaphilia 💗Affection consultant @magicovento

⏳ Extreme Dune Inaccuracies ⌛️ 💝Not for my softies (mentions of violence)

Inspo: ⚔️Multiple anonymous requests combined ⚔️ -Sex against a window -Sex in the throne room -Dom Feyd -Sub Feyd -Feyd wearing a collar -Feyd being handcuffed for sex -Feyd being whipped(with a crop!) -Semi public sex -Feyd graphic BJ -Feyd willing to give up his kingdom for you -Feyd gives up his kink (what?!)

(These requests are 🥵 🔥 )

Brazen Baron

It is the early morning of Feyd’s coronation. The military begin to fill the Fortress courtyard and allow in the people of Geidi Prime. Feyd feels the new emotion he’s come to favor, he feels elation as he opens his eyes. He can hear the chants of his name from the courtyard fortress just beneath his balcony. He trails his fingertips down your spine until he awakens you.

“Come bathe with me,” he says as you open your eyes.

You smile at him and stretch becoming more alert. You hear the chanting of his name from the courtyard below and quickly sit up “The crowd is cheering for your coronation!” You exclaim, he nods at you with a knowing smile.

You both hasten to wash your faces and cleanse your mouths before entering the decontamination chamber. He hugs you facing him as you stand together in the glowing green circle on the floor. It scans both of your bodies and a ring descends from above surrounding you both.

Starting at your feet it sprays rows of water and antimicrobial soap combined all the way to your neck stopping at Feyds shoulders. You both laugh at the height difference. He lathers the soap on his bare shoulders before taking his soapy hands and playfully pulling your face to kiss him.

His lips are so plush and soft you let him take over. He kisses you sensually as the ring sprays water around you both rinsing all of the soap from your bodies. When the chamber fills with hot air drying you off Feyd finally breaks the kiss.

He drops to his knees in worship of you. Holding your hips firm he presses his lips to your soft skin. He trails hot kisses from your navel all the way down to your pussy.

He is interrupted by a sudden sharp knock at his door. Feyd quickly stands and gets two robes placing one on you and then himself. You remain by the bed as he answers.

It is Feyds Lord in Waiting with several servants.

“Honor to you on Coronation Day Baron Feyd Rautha,” he says bowing. ”Here are the trusted servants that will help with your preparations for today,” several servants enter and begin attending to you both without hesitation.

They take Feyd to one side of the room and bring you to the basin room closing the door. You see the seamstress among the group holding a beautiful gown black gown. She presents it to you.

The dress is traditional Harkonnen black; floor length made of is a thin fabric covered in thousands of tiny black Giedi Prime crystals. It is one shouldered with a sheer cape and a slit. As you run the breathable fabric through your fingers you find the design fascinating.

“You will look marvelous in this today as you do in all of my creations.” She says pleasantly. The servants remove your robe at your shoulders stripping you bare, you cover yourself feeling immodest. The seamstress shoos them away and personally hands you your undergarments to put on for yourself.

The panties are a sheer black sheer shimmering fabric. They are so tiny when you pull them on. They expose your cheeks and you blush looking back in the mirror “Is this correct?” You ask the seamstress shyly.

“Ah yes, so the dreaded lines do not show yet you covered beneath, Baroness,” she says reassuringly.

The servants bring in a chair for you to sit. They begin tugging at your hair, slicking it back and pinning it with black Harkonnen treasury gemstones. Another servant begins preparing your face by applying pigmented colors to enhance your natural beauty. There is a knock at the door and a final servant brings you a plated meal to eat as the servants work around you.

After what seems like hours you are finally fitted into your dress. You turn and look in the mirror feeling so regal and confident. You smile, looking yourself over. The dark eye makeup and rouge lip enhancing your sultry, Harkonnen look. You nod feeling ready and they slide the doors open to the main chamber.

You see him first. Feyd is calm and collected wearing an all black royal leather coat over a high neck black top. His signet ring is on his pinky finger and the ascension stones of the Baron rest around his neck. He carry’s two weapons sheathed at his hip, a white short blade, and a black long sword. From your readings on his heritage you understand the black represents purity while the white represents poison.

They will present him with his Baron medallion on stage in-front of the populace, though he has already been instated to wear it. He finally looks over to you with a heavy blink of disbelief that makes you giggle.

You’ve actually never seen him so shocked about anything. A smile plays on his lips, knowing instantly that he has to have you in that dress. He is already calculating a way to be alone with you and have his way with your body before the ceremony even begins.

The Lord in Waiting claps his hands making the servants stop everything. “Lord Feyd Rautha shall we proceed to the Shrine room?“ he inquires.

Feyd nods to the Lord in Waiting and takes your arm exiting his chamber together. His advisors and page are waiting just outside to follow him in procession. You walk through the halls until you reach a set of grandiose stairs that lead to the top center front of the fortress. The highest tower, the Holy Shrine room.

Feyd releases your arm and eyes his page who immediately takes you to a separate area. Only men are permitted to enter the Shrine. The Page finds a bench for you to rest as you wait for Feyd to complete his ancestral duties.

Once they have ascended the stairs and enter the Holy Shrine, his twelve advisors gather around Feyd and kneel with their foreheads on the floor to him. The triangular room has two angled front walls completely made of glass which overlook the fortress courtyard far below.

The back wall is covered in shelves of relics and holy items. In the center of the room on a flat raised triangle platform is the sacred Harkonnen stone.

Centuries old, it is engraved with the first known instance of the Harkonnen crest. The name of every Baron and his reigning years are etched into its black reflective surface. The twelve advisors rise back to standing and leave his presence to allow him to speak with his ancestors.

Feyd is immediately drawn to the stone. Compelled to kneel down in front of it, his curiosity takes hold as he looks over all of the names etched into its jagged peaks. He passes over his uncle Vladimirs before finding his grandfather’s, Dmitri Harkonnen. He touches the stone tracing his finger along the letters of his name.

As if by force Feyd’s mind settles on a district memory he had locked away. It floods his mind entirely.

His brother Rabban returned to their home planet of Lankerville as a young man in command of Harkonnen troops. Rabban was under complete control of his uncle the Baron Vladimir by this time. He was there to prove his undying loyalty.

Their father was the governor of the planet and had not paid its taxes, instead defying the Baron and using the money to help the poor. When their father tried to explain the reasoning for his actions, Rabban flew into a blind rage over his disobedience to the Baron and strangled their own father, Abulurd Rabban, to death.

Feyd releases his finger from the stone feeling the course of evil run through his body. He realizes his entire family is corrupt and his very blood has been poisoned with murder and greed for centuries. Including his own unspeakable atrocities.

He unsheathes his swords crossing them in an X. With his arms out stretched he bows his head and salutes them in the way of the sun and the old manner. He replaces them back into their holsters and rises up understanding what he is and what he has descended from.

Sacred

You look up when Feyds twelve advisors and his Lord in Waiting walk past you to take their places at the ceremony in the courtyard. They eye you warily. Feyd Rautha would not dare bring a female into the Holy Shrine. Though they see you have captivated him they believe he would never bring such terrible omen over his reign as Baron.

Feyd steps out of the Shrine and calls down to his Page, “Bring her to me,” he commands. The Pages eyes widen in shock, knowing what Feyd is asking, but does as he’s told. He finds you where he left you seated. “My Lord Feyd Rautha requests your presence at this time,” he says in fear.

You walk down the corridor to the stairs. Feyd steps down to collect you, helping you advance each step until you reach the top. He opens the shrine doors and you enter together as he seals it shut. His Page falls to the floor chanting forgiveness over his Barons sacrilege.

The Shrine is beautiful inside the walls and floors are completely black, reflective and slick like oil. A large jagged black stone etched in names rests on a white raised triangular shaped platform in the center of the room.

As you look more intently at the stone an uneasiness forms in your mind and you know you should not be in this place. You turn to Feyd to leave but he is standing in front of several skulls lined up in a showcase. He stares at them with a fierce intensity

He finally looks to you, gesturing you to come. As you approach him you glance over all the rows of ancient stones, knives, relics, gemstones and artifacts displayed in the shelving of the hallowed walls.

When you are beside him he points to a skull “The remnants of Leto Atreides, Duke of the greatest enemy of the Harkonnens for centuries. I thought I would feel it a great honor to see this and the skull of his son Paul missing beside it, but instead I feel nothing. The hatred is long gone once they are vanquished. I see now that only bones are what remain.”

You have no word for him as you watch how he gazes into the empty eye sockets of what once was the Atreides Duke. The growing chants of the large crowd below finally reach the shrine room drawing you both to the front glass windows. As you peer down, you realize just how high up you are.

There are rows and rows, of thousands of soldiers surrounding a square stage with the Harkonnen crest.

Feyd seeing the anxiety forming on your face removes his blade scabbard placing it on an ottoman. He wraps his arms around your waist from behind. You place your hands on his as he presses his face to yours. He calms your rising nerves caressing your hands with his thumbs as you stare into a crowd so large.

He finds something familiar to distract you and points.

“Look there are my advisors and the Lord in Waiting and look at Rabban!” He laughs seeing his brothers face full of pride at the base of the stage waiting for him.

He presses a kiss to your temple seeing a smile form across your lips. You are everything to him he would forgo all of this if you asked him to. Instead you encourage his lust for power at every instance.

“Feyd look there at the fortress gates, see how your people call for you.” He looks into the large crowd of people being held back by rows of guards. They chant and scream for him. You look over your shoulder at him. “Are you nervous?” You ask, feeling the weight second hand.

He presses a kiss to your cheek. “I was raised to do this I feel nothing but honor.” His hands trail your bodice as an idea returns to his mind. He’s going to fuck you, here, in the shrine room over looking everyone gathered for his coronation.

You start to feel his kisses lower onto your neck, gently at first until he begins licking and sucking against your throat raising love marks.

He can’t get enough of you. Even now in this, the Holiest Shrine of his ancestors. He wants to defile you in every way. He desires you more than anything his planet has to offer. You feel his lips form a wicked grin against your neck.

He quickly hoists your gown up exposing your lower half and presses your chest to the glass. His right hand moves to your core pressing his fingers onto your clothed clit.

You gasp at the feeling and try to remove his hand. The sacrilege of having sex in a shrine room above hundreds of thousands terrifies you.

Feyd grabs both of your wrists pinning them behind your back preventing you from taking away his pleasure.

He resumes rubbing deeply against the fabric covering your pussy. "Feyd, there are thousands of people below, someone will see us! This room is scared you will be committing sacrilege!" You pant, becoming weak with anxiety trying to make him rationalize.

You pull your wrists in his grip trying to break free but it is impossible. He is twice as strong and easily keeps your hands pinned to your back. Your struggling excites him and you feel his erect cock press against the back of your bare thigh. You know he is going to overtake you and have his way.

He lowly rasps in your ear "Don't worry they can't see us.....but I wouldn't mind fucking you infront of thousands just so everyone knows who you belong to as you make those pretty sounds for me.” His words make you weak.

He pulls your panties to the side that cling because you are so wet. He pushes his two fingers deeply into you, all the way to his knuckles, you gasp in pleasure.

He begins pulling them in and out against your tight walls massaging you internally. The exact sounds that he likes, that drive him feral, fall from your lips. It makes his cock twitch in anticipation.

“Just like that Baroness, keep making those pretty sounds for me,“ he rasps as he kisses up your neck with wild fervor. He fingers you faster and harder until your moans are unending. His knuckles wetly smack against your folds as you come undone from pure anxiety and arousal. You orgasm on his fingers soaking through your panties and trembling as you come down from the euphoric release.

You feel the way he still grips your wrists tightly in his strong hand. He has you trapped. He hasn’t yet desecrated you in the Holy Shrine room, there is still time to stop him.

He slips his fingers from your entrance and you twist your wrists hard to escape. He only holds a tighter grip and presses your chest back to the glass. He takes a step back and sucks your arousal from his fingers. “Feyd please,” you beg, “I have read the books on your ancient ways, what we are doing is a bad omen, please.”

The sound of your thin panties being ripped from your body renders you senseless. You are like a piece of porcelain to him. He could easily break you if he wanted, tear you into pieces while he fucks you in this shrine, but he won't. He loves you, even if he doesn't show it with words he proves it with actions.

He presses his fingers into your wet folds and you squirm as he starts to rub his fingers through them. He wants to make you impossibly wetter, preparing you for his cock. Your resolve grows weaker when he reaches between your legs and swirls his fingertips around your now swollen clit. Your mind goes empty, unable to form a thought. He takes control and you give in to him completely.

Feyd feels you stop resisting and accept his touch. He savors the fact he’s dominated you into submission. Now he wants to taunt you into an orgasm and completely break your mind to his will. “You are like a pleasure slave Baroness letting me fuck you against a window in the Holy Shrine.” He pinches your clit as punishment making you moan as you arch your back.

He smiles as he unclasps and frees his pale cock.

He slips his pink, throbbing tip up and down through your soaked folds, coating it in your arousal to ease his penetration. “You are practically dripping Baroness. Who knew you were such a concubine to please my cock” he says mockingly. You let out a small whimper of shame.

He gets aroused with how easily he can break you with just his words, your body is primed for him. He holds you steady with his free hand on your waist and thrusts into you burying deep all the way until his hips press your thighs. You moan loudly from the penetration of his cock and he begins to fuck you hard against the glass window.

He pulls your wrists back towards him and the leverage allows him to plow even deeper. You look out of the window into the dizzying crowd your moans unending as he thrusts in and out of you as your vision goes fuzzy. You are going into shock mentally and physically. Feyd is so insatiable for you he no longer has rational thought. You don’t understand why he has to have sex here of all places, he is cursing himself.

He thrusts into you feeling limitless. He has defiled you on the sacred meeting hall table, in the pools of purity, and now the Holiest Shrine. He is elated, fucking into you with wild abandon. His hips clapping into you until they stutter.

He cums powerfully, thrusting harder until the heat of his seed fills your core and you both moan. He frees your hands to take hold of your waist pulling his hips back until his heavy cock slips out of you. He is elated and gasping as he puts his cock away with a smile.

You slide your dress down your hips and collect your panties as he fastens his sword scabbard onto his trim waist. He turns you to him and pulls you close. His breathing is labored as he kisses you.

He extends his hand for the panties you hold in yours “Give them to me I want them during the ceremony” he demands. You shyly hand them to him smiling in amusement as he tucks them in his inner breast pocket.

The sound of the crowd is growing even louder. “Come” he says excitedly taking your hand he knows it is time for him to begin the ceremony

The Lord in waiting returns to collect Feyd, he is taking longer than expected and the crowd is at a fever pitch. He sees you with Feyd who is smiling. Feyd plants a kiss on your lips as you walk away together from the stairs at the base of the shrine.

“What have you done!” The Lord in Waiting yells and falls to his knees saluting in the way of the old mannor. He is shocked beyond belief knowing Feyd Rautha has already allowed you into the Holy Shrine.

The Lord in Waiting feels the rising bitterness of disappointment putting his faith in what he thought was such a promising young Baron. He rises as Feyd Rautha approaches with you holding his arm. “My Baron! Do you not realize the grave mistake you have just made? And on your coronation day! A female in the shrine room!….” His disgust and loathing apparent as he says the word ‘female.”’staring you down. He sees his Barons lust for you has completely contaminated his mind.

Feyd takes his attention back. “Get to the stage and present the Baron Medallion. My bloodline is already cursed enough it can not be made worse.” He snaps.

The Lord in waiting is stunned by his Baron’s callous insolence. One moment rallying his council with honor and tradition the next defiling their very belief system. He realizes Feyd Rautha cares for his own interests above all.

The Lord in Waiting watches as you pass him with Feyd. Your garments swish as you walk seductively, holding Feyd’s arm. Your chin is lifted in complete confidence. He understands then that Feyd Rautha never broke you, but that it is the other way around. The late Baron Vladimir was right all along you are corrupting Feyd Rautha to his very core.

He can tell no one of this matter until they replace him. Even then it will be sealed by his lips. No one can know that a female holds any sort of power over a ruling Harkonnen.

Baron Feyd Rauthas Coronation

Feyd Rautha walks the long procession to the center stage lined by rows and rows of his massive army. The crowd cheers in jubilation as he nears the platform. Feyds hands are clasped behind his back. He nods to his brother, Rabban, and ascends to the podium.

The crowd erupts into raucous adulation at seeing their new, young and strong leader. Feyd stands center stage and unsheathes his sword, raising it to the air.

They all begin to chant his name in unison. The Lord in Waiting approaches Feyd with an advisor holding a black chest. Feyd sheaths his sword as the advisor hinges it open. Inside rests the silver Baron medallion bearing the Harkonnen crest.

The Lord in Waiting, unable to meet his new Baron’s strong gaze, brings the medallion to Feyd Rautha’s chest, pinning it in place. He steps back as he and the advisors bow in reverence. All of the soldiers cross their hands over their chests in an X then raise them above their heads in a salute. They pledge their undying loyalty to their new Baron. Fireworks begin erupting across the sky all over the capital as the crowd erupts into wild cheers.

You watch him from afar in adulation. Females are not allowed anywhere near the coronation space. You view his ceremony from a court balcony using binoculars. You sit with the wives of other delegates and interplanetary leaders.

As you see all of the power he commands you cannot help but be aroused by him. Knowing your panties are tucked in his breast pocket because he wanted you on that stage makes you bite your lip trying to contain your lust. You desire him greatly.

You cannot wait to spoil him with the depravity he craves tonight. You wonder if all men of power have this strange complex. God, commanding and powerful on the outside, submissive to be tortured on the inside.

Feyd yearns to be hurt; he loves pain. Tonight you want to hear him beg for mercy. You want to hear him say the words to make the pain stop as he yells ‘red door’ in his greatest moment of agony.

Bene Gesserit

You awaken in the morning and stretch as the room fills with early light. Feyd’s celebration lasted well into the night with lively entertainment and festivities. Your clothing is strewn across the room; wrist restraints are at the foot of the bed.

You look over to Feyd and see he’s still wearing a leather collar with a leash. You smile as you watch him peacefully sleeping. He is always up before you which means you successfully exhausted him.

Wearing the collar makes him look sexually submissive. As he swallows his throat presses against the leather strap, it must be uncomfortable.

You straddle his abs and begin to release the buckle to free his neck. He grabs your wrist with his eyes closed “leave it on” he commands. You just pinch his chin and release the buckle freeing him of the restraint.

You climb off of him to begin getting dressed. “Where are you going?” he reaches his hand to pull you back into bed but you elude him. He sits up and throws back the sheet exposing his injured thighs as he rests on the edge of the bed.

It makes your stomach pull tight in regret as you kneel down and soothe his wounds. You plant a kiss next to each one. His marks are red with dried blood.

You remember exactly how he was injured:

During the coronation party you asked him back to his chambers. You had a naughty look in your eye that he couldn’t resist. He eagerly followed you, leaving his own celebration as Baron.

As soon as you entered his chamber, he tried to claim you. But you pushed him back and commanded him to strip. When he was naked you picked up a leather braided riding crop from the sex toy table. You commanded him to sit pointing the crop to a chair placed at the foot of the bed.

He rested back against the chair as he stared at you spreading his legs wide to tantalize you with his free standing cock. Your eyes were transfixed until you remembered your task. You collected the interlocking links and approached him. “Restrain yourself. I don’t trust you know how to behave, Feyd Rautha” you commanded him with a smile.

He smiled back at you with a mischievous glint in his eyes. You quickly handed him the interlocking links, keeping your distance so he couldn’t overpower you. He obediently cuffed his hands behind his back.

You stripped bare and his eyes lidded in attraction for you. As you came to stand between his parted legs you kneeled down and began to suck his cock. He gasped as you instantly satisfied his desire and enjoyed being restrained as you pleased him.

You released his cock from your mouth before he came. You stood and leaned in to kiss him and he tasted himself on your tongue. You leaned up with your breasts directly in his face. He tried to reach and lick your nipple into his mouth, but you took a step back.

You chastised him for misbehaving and he grinned. “I will collar you now because you are so unwilling to behave, Feyd,” you said with a mocked angry tone. His eyes tried to follow your movements as you walked past him to his kink closet, You picked out the largest of four collars.

You straddled his lap trapping his cock between your navals and placed the collar on him. He groaned when you pulled the leather tight. It suited him well.

As you stepped back from him with the leash in your hand he sexily glared up at you. While wearing the collar with his hands restrained he was unable to overtake you. But his lustful thoughts of the ways he wanted destroy you radiated from his eyes. Your arousal increased and you become wetter.

The urge to ride him then almost over took your mind. But instead you calmed your lust and tortured him first, knowing what he liked. You made him try and lick your nipple in front of his face again, this time pulling the leash taunt choking him back as he tried.

Each time he failed you hurled insults at him. “How can a man so powerful be so weak,” was the one that softened the ferocity in his eyes.

Once you broke him down mentally you began the physical. You lightly snapped the riding crop against his most vulnerable spots. Between his shoulder blades, across his abs, but the thighs were his favorite. That elicited the most depraved groans from his throat.

You repeatedly snapped the riding crop to either side of his inner thighs until they were blistering red. “More!” he growled at you. He yearned to be injured. But seeing his thighs begin to bleed you refused.

You had even more torture in store but a spark of sadness and even pity welled up in you. He was so sexually depraved and you didn’t have the will to hurt him any more. He was just too beautiful to mutilate any further. You stood between his parted legs as he stared up at you with his striking blue eyes pleading for more.

You caressed his temple, probing to see if instead of calming energy you could use your own prana nervature to induce pain without harming his perfect body. You wanted to give him what he desired even if it meant excruciating agony.

As you sent the energy into his mind he winced and then his face slowly changed from discomfort to torment. His brows knitted as his jaw slacked. All the muscles began to show prominently across his body as he tried to adjust from the pain.

His cock became so hard the tip turned from pink to red. His breaths began shuddering and his body tensed as if he were having an orgasm. When you increased the pain even more he began leaking precum. He deeply groaned though his clenched teeth in pleasure.

You couldn’t help yourself as you climbed on his lap and impaled yourself down on his painfully hard cock. You kept your fingertips pressed to his temple and used him mercilessly for your own pleasure, riding his cock while delving out the worst pain imaginable into his mind. He came twice, one ejaculation right after the other. “You’re … a ….Bene Gesserit!“ he finally said through clenched teeth as he struggled.

He gasped as you intensified his pain even more. He came a third time, but had little semen left to give as you orgasmed.

He was trembling and his eyes were welling with tears. He gritted his teeth until they clicked. He was withstanding pain that was beyond human capacity to endure.

“Tell me you’ve had enough Feyd.” you whispered against his ear.

You knew it was time to withdraw, but he wouldn’t say the words. You increased the intensity of the pain to its strongest.

His mouth fell open as he strained, seemingly unable to breathe. He gasped as if he couldn’t enough get air into his lungs.

He was struggling almost unable to even say the words as he used the last of his strength to yell “Red….Door!” to make it all stop.

You released him from the pain instantly and he fell forward gasping against your chest as his warm tears leaked on your breast.

He was shuddering as he looked up to you with his wrecked out eyes and tear streaked face. He tried to say words but he couldn’t form a single one. You rendered him dumb from the intensity of so much pain. He must’ve felt like he met his death.

With his energy fading and his inability to speak, he rested his head back to your chest. His eyes were closing in exhaustion having had his deepest yearning fulfilled. When you caressed his face, he had recoiled in fear before allowing your soothing touch. You smiled at him then nothing would ever compare.

Now, he looks at you with worshipful eyes, knowing in an instant you can inflict upon him such painful agony. You stand after checking his wounds and he quickly pulls you to him as he sits on the edge of the bed.

He plants kisses between your breasts at your heart, inhaling your scent rubbing his face against you.

He is obsessed, craving anything you will give him. He trails his hands down your curves. He knows he should get dressed but he can’t break himself away from you.

There is a sudden knock at the door and it fills him with rage to be so interrupted. He has so many unanswered questions for you. Questions that are only second to the desire to bed you before he leaves.

“Feyd I will be here later, you are Baron now your people need you,” you smile at his neediness and caress your hand over his head onto his neck.

He feels the honor of now ruling several planets, but you are his main desire. He closes his eyes as he plants more kisses between your breasts with every intention to fulfill his need.

His page, relays the message through the door “m’Lord, the spice harvesters are being destroyed in an orchestrated attack on Arrakis. You are needed to address these urgent matters in the strategy hall at once.”

You turn from Feyd as he growls. You quickly get dressed, sensing he will bed you if you stay close to him in this confined space any longer. The hunger in his hypnotic blue eyes is too desperate. You leave his chambers without even saying goodbye. He is psychotic and sexually vulnerable, you need him to focus and be a great leader for the future heir you carry in your womb.

War on Arrakis

After several hours Feyd’s page finally locates you in the medical wing. He comes scrambling in as you are speaking with your Doulah. “M’lady the Baron requests your presence in the throne room at once,” he says out of breath. He had been searching everywhere for you in the fortress to appease his angered Baron.

Feyd Rautha had been crazed in the strategy hall during the morning meeting. With his advisors and military strategists present he flew into a rage. He received confirmation from his brother back on Arrakis there was indeed a rebel leader named Muad’Dib, with an enormous army of Fremen hiding in the desert.

Rabban, wanting to impress his brother as the new Baron trailed the Fremen who had destroyed the spice harvesters. His ornithopter was loaded with several soldiers, as they tracked the Fremen into the nearest rock formation.

As he landed, a small sand storm had begun. He exited the craft with his men and they were ambushed in the low visibility. The Fremen attacked the Harkonnen soldiers with inherent skill for desert combat.

Rabban locked eyes with their leader and knew him to be this Mua’dib as his men followed at a pace behind him. Fear struck him seeing all his men had already been defeated.

Rabban fled back to the ornithopter and a lone Fremen jumped in after him. He was able to dispatch the Fremen, who was hurled from the ornithopter falling to his death. Rabban escaped, nearly losing his life.

Feyd immediately ordered an annihilation raid on Arrakis to bomb its inhabitants into the ground. He wanted the skull of Muad’Dib as a trophy in his shrine. He made arrangements for interspace travel with you and his militia to Arrakis the following day. He planned to rid the planet of the insurgents for good. Finally increasing the Harkonnen spice profits exponentially.

The Throne Room

You are unaware of Feyds mental state but can sense from his page that he is angry. When you arrive at the throne room, you stare in awe at the large golden doors. A mural of the history of Giedi Prime is engraved upon them.

The guards part the golden doors and you enter the cavernous room. It is bare of all decorations. Everything from the floor to the extremely high ceiling is matte black. Six enormous pillars line each side of the room showcasing the throne in the center with Feyd upon it. Several steps lead up to his platform.

He is stoic and regal in his new garments but his eyes are on fire for you. Once the doors are closed behind you he beckons you to come up to him.

You hold the hem of your gown and climb the steps stopping at the last one before you enter the sacred space of his ruling platform “Am I allowed to approach, Baron Feyd Rautha? “ You ask in a sweet tone as you bow.

“Come and kneel at my feet,” he commands. You approach slowly and kneel before him with your head lowered. His sexual energy already charges the space.

Your stomach pulls tight in anticipation of what he will do to you after the way you left his presence in the morning. His hand reaches for you and he softly touches under your chin, tilting your face up.

He is enamored when you look up to him, your face is so beautiful and kind. He summoned you to discuss your loyalty to the Bene Gesserit, but looking into your resolute eyes he fears your response.

He decides to use you for pleasure to ease his stress instead.

His hand slips behind your neck pulling you between his open thighs to his crotch. Your face flushes as heat radiates in your core from the close proximity. “Do you know how much I desired you this morning?” he asks, making you look up into his eyes, “how much I desire you even now?”

Just being in your presence he can no longer contain his urges. He takes your hands one at a time placing them on each of his thighs. “Open your mouth for your Baron” he commands and you obey his wishes.

He unclasps his pants, freeing his thick erect cock. It slaps against his covered abs before he holds the base steadying it straight. “I want you to hold my thighs and suck my cock until you can no longer breathe. Only when you squeeze my thighs will I release you to recover.” You slowly nod with your mouth open. He takes the back of your head and forces your mouth down his length.

He groans as his cock enters your mouth and fills all the way to your throat space. You can not reach his base and as you try your drool pools down his shaft.

He feels the saliva coating his cock and tilts his head back enjoying it. “You like the taste of my cock don’t you Baroness, wait until you drink my cum”, he says hand gripping your hair forcing you up and down on his erect length. Your mouth feels so good on him the room begins to fill with his breathier moans.

He releases your hair from his grasp, getting lost in the pleasure of your inherent skill. You continue to suck him, starting to move faster while the vibrations of your whimpers make his cock twitch.

"That's it don't stop" he rasps, grabbing hold of your hair again.

He forces your mouth up and down on his length as he thrusts his hips. You nearly gag and are tempted to beg for release until you hear his deep moans of pleasure that instantly soak your pussy. You keep your hands still and relax your throat to endure more for his pleasure.

You turn your gaze up to him, looking through your wet eyelashes, pleading for some kind of friction in your now aching core. You remove your hand from his thigh and begin to pleasure yourself.

His eyes open when he no longer feels the warmth there. He looks down and watches how you slowly move your hand between your legs, pleasing yourself as you moan and suck his cock. It nearly makes him ejaculate.

"I’m going to make you …-take all of my cock ….- down your throat when I cum” His raspy voice floods your ears while he makes the pace more violent.

Unable to breathe, you quickly bring your hand from your clit and start to squeeze his thighs.

The pain of you squeezing his injuries arouses him even more. He continues his pace until he feels your fists pounding against his thighs snapping him out of his pleasure.

He instantly releases you. As his cock glides out of your mouth it slaps against his covered abs. You pant, chest heaving to regain air quickly to your lungs.

You stare at his prominent wet cock, covered in your saliva. His tip has turned red, the veins throb visibly on his shaft and core pulses as your pupils expand in arousal . You must have him inside of you.

He leans back against his throne, breathing heavily and removes his shirt, tossing it aside. His body is covered in a light sheen, you watch the way the sweat trails from his neck onto his porcelain abs.

He regains control over his lungs and stands removing the remaining clothing from his lower half. He rests back on the throne completely naked with his cock standing erect. He pats his lap smiling beckoning you to come.

You remove your gown and slip out of your panties eagerly climbing on top of him. You place your knees on either side of his waist. He looks up at you enraptured finally able to reclaim you. His hands trail down to grip your waist. He pulls you forward and lowers you down on his cock. You both moan as he penetrates and settles you to the base.

He watches as you lean back and grab his sore thighs squeezing them and making him gasp as you ride him, your face is in pure bliss.

Feeling the mild pain you inflict squeezing his thighs as you ride him flashes his mind back to the previous night. His breathing increases remembering how, with just a touch, you can give him the most intense pain he will ever endure in his lifetime.

His hand is trembling in anticipation as he pulls your wrist up to press your finger tips against his temple.You sit up placing your other hand on his shoulder as you continue to ride him.

You transfer him a low level of pain, you don't want him to cum yet.

His stamina decreases as he rests back feeling the intense effects of his body adjusting to pleasure and pain simultaneously.

You moan as his cock swells even harder inside of you. He is motionless as you take over riding him. Your passion increasing as your eyes close using him to your satisfaction.

You release the pain from him overwhelmed with the way his cock pleasures your walls. You grab a hold of his shoulders and lean in to devour his mouth. He pulls you into an even deeper kiss with his hand holding the nape of your neck.

He regains the ability to work his cock and thrusts into you hitting the exact place inside of you that has you calling out his name each time.

He slows his pace to a stop and delays your orgasm. He has to know the truth “ Bene Gesserit or my Baroness” he ask’s breathlessly testing your loyalty to the order.

He has been warned of your kind by his uncle. ‘Sperm harvesting witches who infiltrate the great houses to deceive and twist fate for their own benefit.’

But as he gazes upon you with worshipful eyes he knows this can not be true. He has fallen madly for you.

You know the truth as you stare back into his hypnotic blue eyes. Though you were sent to secure his genetics and bind his mind you have already betrayed your sisterhood. You have fallen in love with him.

“I am your Baroness” you confess

Your answer satisfies him completely and he pulls you back to him in a passionate kiss

He begins to increase his pace as he holds you to him placing his hand on his throne for leverage. He works his cock with his hips and thighs to thrust in you with everything he has to give.

You ride him in rhythm until you are both moaning in tandem on the verge of orgasms. You lean forward and press your mouth on his with a kiss as you press your fingers on his temple and elicit his mind with agonizing pain. His abs tense and he lets out a sound of anguished pleasure as he instantly cums.

Arrakis

At day break you and Feyd load into a Harkonnen warship. Inside it is decorated luxuriously with every amenity possible. The long craft is like a palace in space. The interior designed with gold and black furnishings decorated throughout. The exterior is disguised to blend with the rest of the armada.

You are going to travel through space to his other planet Arrakis. Feyd has started a war there and vowed to completely annihilate his newfound enemies, the Fremen before they become too powerful.

You ascend from the capital of Giedi Prime looking out of the floor to ceiling windows as the gray planet gets smaller and smaller until the ship launches to a speed that the windows only show black. You are traveling within his armada of fifty warships.

Feyd kisses your hand and holds it with his as he rests back on the sofa. You are both relaxing in the ornate lounge room. He smiles at you he couldn’t bear to leave you on Geidi Prime. He’ll have trusted Harkonnen assassins protect you heavily at his Arrakeen palace. Your saftey with his unborn is paramount.

He can’t wait to see the destruction and chaos that his brother Rabban has already made in his wake. Feyd wants to wet his blades with blood in a battle. Slicing freemen limb from limb excites him.

He believes he has found a secret way to release his bloodlust seeing you only allow him to kill if it enhances his reign. He strokes your chin to look at him so he can gaze into your eyes. You plant as kiss on his lips and he smiles. He caresses his thumb along your jaw as he stares at your lips. He wants to fuck you in the master suite of the spacecraft.

A servant politely knocks before stepping into the lounge gently announcing breakfast will be served in the dining room. You will be traveling through trans light speed on the ship for a full day to reach Arrakis.

To be continued …

Up Next: Honor & Heir | Feyd Fantasy Part 7 Final

Arrakis | Feyds War | Feyd as a Father | Finale

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chalamet-chalamet · 11 months

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✨✨✨Dune: Part One promo (2021)✨✨✨

#timothee chalamet #timothée chalamet #I liked all his looks this promo tour #zendaya #rebecca ferguson #jason momoa #denis villeneuve #dune part one #dune part 1 #dune #Paris #dune press

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0bticeo · 2 months

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lurk | feyd rautha

part two of five. (part one.) (part three.) (part four.)

summary:

the edge of the blade is sharp. a pinprick of pain blossoms above your carotid. but…

“it’s not sharp enough.”

he blinks. slowly, his lips curl in a smile. your gaze flits to them. to the plush lower lip, to the arch of his cupid’s bow. to their predatory edge. you’ll cut yourself if you get too close. maybe you need to take a step forward.

“what will you have me do?”

“pardon?”

“to sharpen it. should i fetch the incapable wretch who forged them?” his grin sharpens. you feel his blade cut through skin. “or should i use you?”

wc. 3k

tw. blood, death, manipulation, knife kink, blood kind (both heavily hinted at), possessive feyd, political machinations, little canon divergent because the atreides actually attend feyd's bday fight (canon dune part 1 one starts a little after that), please read part one first it will all make sense i promise. shoutout to @kpopnstarwars my most beloved you're going to enjoy this. same goes for you @jaiuneamesolitaiire . also please ask questions about reader/the plot i beg of u i need to get this out of my system

you’re falling.

you see white sands engulf you in their sickly warmth, greedy little grains sinking you in.

you’re falling, and there’s a distant roar ringing in your ears. you’re falling, lifeblood escaping you.

you’ve fallen.

black.

you peel your eyelids open. they feel like sandpaper against your eyes, coarse and rough in all ways wrong.

you dream. again.

the past shifts and twists in front of you, ever changing, desert sand falling through your fingers. the more you cling to it, the less you grasp it.

you let yourself fall in the abyss of memory.

you blink.

you stand by your father’s side, gait proud and regal in a dark dress - a convoluted affair of veils and silver. on your breast, the crest of your family - crimson falcon spreading, spreading. you think of blood blooming on your chest and shift, ever so slightly. the cool press of your blade against your forearm soothes you.

you are in troubled waters, after all.

geidi prime, home to your house’s sworn enemy, the harkonnen. geidi prime, its black sun sucking life out of its inhabitants, monochrome nightmare.

the flight from caladan was costly enough - you can almost hear hawat’s teeth grinding in discontent. a fortune, wasted on harkonen festivities held in honor of the na-baron’s birthday. yet, you must attend. you, betrothed-to-be to a harkonnen.

you’ve heard whispers. hushed conversations between your mother and father, an assessing gaze from the reverend mother herself. it won’t be the baron himself - too old, too sick to produce the desired offspring.

just any other member of that wretched house won’t do either - you are a duke’s daughter, your bloodline mingling with that of the emperor himself.

in the end, it all comes down to the baron’s nephews.

rabban - brutal. all furious brawns, minimal intellectual capacity, proficient for slaughter if used well.

na-baron feyd-rautha. utterly psychotic. deadly. precise. cunning. watching.

from his position at the baron’s right flank, he assesses you. you, back impossibly straight, hands folded before you, feet spread wide enough to spring to action should the situation go awry.

you, bowing before them, liquid smooth, a hair short of being disgracious.

you’ve only bowed low enough to respect the intricate harkonnen protocol, not to show deference. not to them.

the baron raises his head from his seat, barely.

“welcome to geidi prime, duke.”

you suppress a twitch. how utterly informal.

“thank you, baron.”

a shift in the baron’s entourage.

outrage, barely concealed. rabban looks ready to slit your father’s throat. how dare the atreides scum fail to recognize the honor paid to him and his suite?

they’re being left alive, have the privilege of witnessing their beloved na-baron’s coming of age, and still fail to show the due respect?

you let out a slow, drawn out breath. the ceremony will be held in two days. more than enough time for you and your father to be disposed of.

your lips quirk up. you speak.

“it is always an honor to be invited to festivities in which the emperor partakes.”

feyd-rautha’s eyes are on you. under geidi prime’s soulless sun, they’re white, depthless. a milky way of depraved harkonnen savagery. he bares his teeth with unbrided hunger. you know it to be a threat - you’ve heard of his harpies.

you think he’ll consume you whole, with the way his gaze scorches your very soul.

how delightful.

a pulse. the suspensors. slowly, the baron rises from his seat, gargantuan mass towering above you, shadow stretching and stretching until it encompasses all of you.

“the flight to geidi prime must have been quite draining.”

a tenth of your wealth. he who controls the spice controls the universe. the harkonnen have had arrakis in an iron hold for eight decades. your jaw ticks. bastard.

“escort them to the guest wing.”

servants surge forward.

feyd-rautha’s gaze burns, sinks in the exposed skin of your back.

your dream shifts. twists, turns, has you seated at a banquet table.

a feast.

one day left until feyd-rautha’s coming of age.

the guards don’t know how to hold their tongue. they expect a fight - the grandest thing under the sun.

the emperor’s here, sitting at your table. from the corner of the eye, you observe. he’s been put at the head of the table, the baron at his right, your father at his left. an attempt at appeasing eons old enemy. a failure. yet...

there’s an air of satisfaction to the emperor. haden’t you be trained in the bene gesserit way, you would have missed it, the way his eyes glimmer like arrakean spice.

finality sinks in as he takes the first bite, knife slicing open the tender flesh of an unknown poultry.

it looks like a falcon.

you take a bite of your own meat. medium rare, the proper way to consume meat. especially venison. princess irulan watches you, gaze assessing. she, too, has been trained in the way.

you smile at her, finger tracing the rim of your glass, spider-pleasantries networking endlessly. you ask her if she enjoyed your gift - a vocal recorder of the highest quality.

her smile is sincere. in the brutal white lighting of the banquet hall, you find yourself wishing things were different.

“how is your brother?”

you grin. you’re being watched.

“he’s grown. still has his back facing the door.”

she scoffs, amused.

“he’ll learn.”

under the artificial light, your wine looks like freshly spilled blood.

you take a sip and hum. the alcohol burns, sweet little fire settling low in your chest.

“is the wine to your liking, my lady?"

to your credit, you don’t startle. your shoulders tense, your hand freezes in its motion to lower the glass.

na-baron feyd-rautha is at your side, close enough for his breath to tickle your ear.

“it is, my lord na-baron.”

mine. mine. glacier eyes have you riveted in your seat, needle-like against your throat. mine, mine.

his lady. his to claim, his to wed, his to breed.

you watch lithe fingers curl around his knife and wish you could see him in action. watch the deadly precision he’s so praised for.

soon.

twist and shift, until you’re lost in a maze of hallways.

the ceremony is about to start - you can feel the low thrum of thousands of harkonnen roaring their na-baron’s name. shadows pass over you.

it’s cold, this architecture. metal wings stretching, stretching. should you crane your neck, maybe, you’ll watch them disappear in the ceiling. maybe. darkness is a looming cloud - these very walls soak up the light.

you, yourself, are a shadow. puppet dancing to the whims of whoever holds your strings. bene gesserit. baron vladimir harkonnen. the emperor.

you feel a storm coming.

you stop. light. an open door. a lone silhouette, porcelain white etched against black.

feyd-rautha.

he raises his head. sees you. tilts it to the side, lips stretched in a slow grin.

“are you lost, my lady?”

“so it would appear, na-baron.”

a twitch. flicker of annoyance in his eyelid, in the clenching of his jaw, sculpted edge caressed by shadows.

his blade is at your throat before you can make a move.

time holds its breath. it will snap and bleed raw at your feet, thick rivulets of it.

you will bleed, too.

your lips part, a muted gasp. the edge is sharp. a pinprick of pain blossoms above your carotid. but…

“it’s not sharp enough.”

“what will you have me do?”

“pardon?”

“to sharpen it. should i fetch the incapable wretch who forged them?” his grin sharpens. you feel his blade cut through skin. “or should i use you?”

your heart skips a beat. a droplet of blood trails down your neck, down to your collarbone, down to your breasts. his gaze follows. hungry.

“you’d make quite a mess, na-baron.”

he steps closer. circles you, free hand grazing your hip bone, left bare by your dress. you feel the heat of him. suddenly, you’re acutely aware of his bare chest pressed against you. you suppress a shiver.

“address me properly, my lady.”

he shifts his blade. it presses against your jaw.

“very well, my lord na-baron.”

a pleased hum, like a purr. you tilt your head to the side.

“what will you do, feyd-rautha?”

he turns by a fraction. his lips graze your cheek, a breath away from your mouth. your throat feels dry. they graze there, too, over your carotid, trailing up and up until he’s pressing his cheek to yours, guiding you, helping you see-

carnage.

servants, dressed in white, lying limp on the ground, throat slit with deadly perfection. blood pools on the ground. stretches. oozes from gaping wounds, until it reaches the hem of your dress.

concubines, three of them - sisters of fate, harpies with broken limbs, lifeless eyes staring at the ceiling. they’re smiling, teeth like fangs in the dim lighting of the room.

“help me,” he mutters, voice like a plea. “i will guide you.”

“and if i refuse?"

a low chuckle. deep, raspy. you melt a little inside.

“you’re brave, my little atreides.”

“you wouldn’t be the first to try to kill me and fail, miserably.”

his arm wraps around your middle, pressing you to him. oh, mother, why did you have to wear a backless dress? you feel each ridge of him, the perfection of a trained warrior, muscles taut from countless hours of training - he’d make sculptors weep with the lethal perfection of him.

“ah, the fabled tale. show me, little atreides.”

“say please.”

his fingers dig in your hip, thumb tracing small circles under the silver threads holding the fabric together.

“please.”

slowly, you raise your arm. the fabric of your dress, a convoluted affair of veils and velvet, slides down your skin. inch by inch, until the treacherous, ragged scar stretches along your forearm. he tenses, feyd-rautha.

“who did this to you?”

“a fool who underestimated me.”

an assassin.

sent to kill you and your brother as you were running around on the beaches of caladan. who took you first, had you pressed against him, blade at your throat - until you sweetly asked him to

unhand you.

he did. your mastery of the voice wasn’t perfect. you faltered. he struck. you bled.

killed.

words are the weapons of the weak.

that, you aren’t.

“how may i help you, feyd-rautha?”

twist, turn, until you’re facing him, holding a bowl of paint. thick, petrol black, it clings to your fingers like a lifeline. feyd-rautha’s hand covers yours. guiding you, dipping your fingers in the paint, raising your hand to his torso.

you flush a little.

he’s warm. so very warm under your touch. the paint is cool on his skin - you watch him shiver, abdominals contracting, and you trail down, down his pectorals, stopping just short of his navel, lingering over the fabric of his tunic. at his side, his fingers twitch, eager.

“more.”

“where?”

his hand reaches for yours. presses it on his chest. you can feel his heart, steady, strong - fluttering, hummingbird flailing in a cage made of ribs.

you want him, you realize. you want to consume him whole, sink your teeth in him until you can finally taste.

“where?”

you have to crane your neck to get a look at his face. something like amusement glimmers in his eyes.

he brings your fingers to his lips.

you blink.

spread the paint, thumb pressing down the plush of his lips. his lips part, suck you in and bite.

feyd-rautha watches you, tongue darting out to gather the sweet blood trailing down your hand. he presses a kiss to your palm, lips lingering against the callouses of your skin.

you let out something like a whine. the bowl falls. you never hear it reach the ground.

“you’re making quite a mess.”

bastard.

“you’ll make a bigger one if you’re late, my na-baron.”

twist and turn, again, and again, and again. dreams have meanings, and you won’t let this one escape your grasp.

you’re standing above the ground, in the gaping mouth of a harkonnen arena. on and on it stretches, cold metal sparring against the sky, gnawing at its decimated horizon. ink blots the sky. you think of blood pooling in the water. fireworks.

you step inside the lodge. the guards recognise you - duncan idaho flashes a smile, a sharp quirk of his lips. you nod. they part ways. let you join your father, sit by his side and watch.

the fight hasn’t begun yet.

“you look thoughtful, daughter.”

you look away from the immaculate sand and the thousands of harkonnen roaring their na-baron’s name. feyd-rautha.

your father is watching you, gaze austere. you will not conceal, not from him.

“an alliance with the harkonnen would be beneficial, father.”

silence. you watch the subtle twitch of his eyelid, the flexing of his hand. the guards do not hear. you’ve willed it so on your way in. to them, this is only pleasant chatter between father and daughter. harkonnen slander.

“you will not speak of such matters again.”

“the emperor-”

“enough!”

you keep your mouth shut. your father is a stubborn man, blinded by hatred passed down from generation to generation of atreides. as you should be.

horns blow. doors part, slide up. in comes feyd-rautha harkonnen, prowling on the wretched grounds of his playing ground. your binoculars zoom in on him. on the ease with which he carries himself, on the perfect arch of his neck as he kneels before the baron.

on harkonnen prisoners making their way towards him. undrugged.

you straighten in your seat.

the guards murmur. they too, have noticed the prisoners walking straight, carrying themselves with entirely too much ease.

“a bold move. what is the baron planning?”

your father. he’s watching too. all of you are, thousands of gazes riveted on the focal point that is the lone silhouette of feyd-rautha harkonnen.

you rip your gaze away from him and focus on the baron, a few meters above.

his lips part.

show me who you are, my dear nephew.

he’s fast. too fast for them. you relish in it, the fluidity of his movements, the way his hands tenses with each strike of his blades, bare forearms rippling with tension. one body falls. two. it’s barely been a minute since the fight started.

you cross your legs and watch, enthralled.

by god, does he fight well.

a reptile, slithering around his opponent, assessing him with the cruel knowledge of his supremacy. shadows loom over them, horned beasts ready to pry his opponent away from him should he prove to be in danger.

you feel more than you hear his outraged snarl.

“back off!”

that poor soul is his to kill. his gaze flickers upwards. up to the guest lodge, up to you. he bares his teeth in a smile, a flash of black against pure white, and strikes. blood splatters on the ground. a gash opens in the side of the prisoner. he stumbles but doesn’t fall.

no, he’s a fighter that one. lunches forward to pin the na-baron to the ground, wrestling with him, clawing at his arms, hitting every nerve until the baron drops his blades. he’s laughing. he’s getting the life choked out of him and he’s laughing, shifting until his feet find enough leverage to pull him up.

there’s a blade at his throat. the prisoner pushes and pushes, unstoppable force against immovable object. on he laughs, feyd. your eyes drops to his lips, where you see droplets of drool drip down his chin. you bite your lip.

feyd seizes the blade with his bare hand and twists. you hear the prisoner’s wrist break before you hear him choke on his own scream, coughing out blood. the dagger’s deep in his throat. it’s the only thing keeping him together - one fluid motion and feyd rautha wrenches it out of torn flesh and raises it above.

his gaze finds yours.

the dream shifts.

a veil unfolds, parts, until you’re walking the burning sands of arrakis. paul atreides, blood of your blood, flesh of your flesh, stands before you.

his eyes are blue.

you freeze.

a litany rises. lisan al gaib. your mother’s handicraft and eons of propaganda from the missionaria protectiva did its job well. here stands the one, scalding wind screaming around the looming silhouette of him.

bodies. bodies, laying on the ground, thousands and thousands of bodies, hands clutching at scorched earth, parched mouths opened in damnation. hunger. they’re dying in paul’s wake. fate will set the galaxy ablaze. fate will make monsters out of you.

“you know what must be done, sister.”

you do. there’s something a little broken in the way you smile at him, palm cradling his face.

“do you, little mouse?”

he’s tired, paul atreides, usul, muad’ib, lisan al gaib. sanctity doesn’t suit him well. he sees, but his eyes are sunken, his cheeks have hollowed out. there’s an edge to him, too. the bene gesserit were right to fear him.

“don’t lose yourself more than you already have, brother.”

it’s too late.

a jolt.

your eyes wrench open.

“welcome back, atreides.”

the baron.

#feyd rautha x reader #feyd rautha x y/n #feyd rautha x you #dune x reader #dune x you #dune x y/n #obticeo writes #bald freak supremacy

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houserautha · 2 months

Text

These Destined Ends

Part 2

Summary: Jessica fulfilled the wishes of the Bene Gesserits to produce a daughter. You’re now burdened with the task of not only marrying the na-Baron, but also bearing his child — the Kwisatz Haderach. Will you take your fate into your own hands? Or will it always belong to those who control you?

Pairing: Feyd-Rautha x F!Reader

Word Count: 1.6k

Warnings: he steps on your hand, non-consensual kissing, slapping

A/N: In which you try to stand your ground against Feyd and it just makes him horny

Palpable tension fills the room. You notice, not happily, the heavy presence of guards. As pale and unmoving as the walls, you wouldn’t have recognized them if not for the subtle hand signals from your mother. Jessica’s fingers twitched in the ancient Atreides language.

Stay on guard, she warns you. You don’t even have to look at her to know what she’s saying — you learned the secretive hand signals before you could even speak. Even just a quick flash of her fingers in your peripheral and you understand.

Will this day end in bloodshed?

The thought rags at you.

“Welcome,” the Baron finally bellows, voice thick and rasping as sand over the dunes of Arrakis. “It is truly an honor to receive you here today.”

Leto nods, ever the diplomat. You’re grateful for his lead and the prowess of his social navigational skills because, at the moment, you’re afraid that you won’t be able to speak. Not in the face of your destiny and certainly not under the severe scrutiny of your betrothed.

The Baron beckons you and your family closer and you swear that you notice Feyd-Rautha lean forward in interest.

“I trust your journey from Arrakis was well,” the Baron says.

Your skin prickles at the mention.

“Certainly. It was a smooth ride. I’m sure you’re familiar, since you’ve taken it recently,” Leto replies coolly.

The Baron snaps, “And will again soon.”

An insurmountable current of hostility perpetuates the room, not visible but impossible to not to notice. The Baron claps his hands together, the sound resonating. “But we aren’t here to discuss space travel, are we? Lady Y/N, step forward so that we may see you.”

The slightest nod of approval from Jessica. Her hand brushes yours as you pass by her.

It’s unknown to you how far you should go but you take several large steps away from your parents until you’re completely vulnerable. You hope no one is able to perceive your nervousness, or the slick state of your palms. You keep them hidden in the folds of your dress.

“Mm, lovely enough,” the Baron remarks. His repulsive gaze travels your form. Not in the way that one might appraise a mate but rather a livestock for purchase. “Excellent hips for birthing.”

You bite your tongue to stifle your retort.

From the shifting of garments behind you, you know the comment has unsettled your parents as well. Your mother warned you that the situation was delicate, that the Harkonnens would wait for the slightest aggression to attack. You do your best to maintain a comprise of neutrality, the cool indifference your mother manages to exude.

“Still an Atreides,” Rabban growls, low enough only for you, the Baron, and na-Baron to hear.

The Baron ignores this. “Well, nephew, won’t you greet your betrothed?”

A small exhale escapes you.

Feyd-Rautha lopes from his position beside the dais to stand before you. His proximity is overwhelming, the sheer size and force of his presence eclipsing all else; his lips have not loosed from their taunting smirk, an infuriating expression you wish to rid him of.

“Hello, betrothed,” he says. His voice, too, rasps against your ears, cool and unbothered.

“Hello,” is all you manage.

In a move that startles you, Feyd-Rautha unsheathes a dagger from his armored uniform. It glints dangerously in the low lighting. Although you can’t see her you hear Jessica cry out in surprise, in objection, and the guards at the perimeter of the throne room coil with anticipation. However, you keep still.

Feyd-Rautha presses the tip of the dagger lightly into your neck, below your ear. His dark gaze flickers down the column of your throat, following the trail of the blade. It’s a strangely sensual act, intimate in ways that disturb you, the fragile balance of trust and power it commands. Feyd-Rautha stops at the dip of your throat, where your heart is beating wildly, directly above the Atreides clasp.

He clicks his tongue. “You won’t be needing this.”

The Harkonnen slices at your cape faster than you can ever react — the garment flutters from your shoulders to the ground. It’s then that you realize he’s cut away the clasp and effectively stripped you of your Atreides title.

The clasp bounces against the polished floor.

Compelled by shock, by pure reflex, you bend down to grab it. Feyd-Rautha’s boot closes down on your hand before you can retrieve the clasp, slamming your palm down over it as he traps your hand against the floor. You gasp in surprise, and pain, the pressure of his booted foot clearly more demonstrative than punishing. For now.

“I told you that you won’t be needing that,” he says, exasperatedly informal. “Stand up.”

Teeth gritting, you squirm beneath his boot, trying desperately to reclaim your hand. “No!” You shout at him. “It is rightfully mine.”

He presses his boot down harder. You squeal.

“You are rightfully mine. And you will do as I say. A wife with a broken hand is still capable of fulfilling her duties.”

Shame burns your face and couples with the disgust taking root in your chest. Feyd-Rautha regards you coolly from above. If you thought you would survive the attempt, you’d snap his leg.

“Fine,” you spit out.

His smooth brow raises. “What?”

“Fine.”

“Louder,” he orders. “I want them all to hear you. Forfeit your Atreides loyalty.”

In the few seconds that you take to consider this, he pushes his entire weight down on your hand. The pain steals away all rational thought as stars appear in your vision. Your breath saws painfully in and out of your lungs. It takes all of your strength to grit out, “I forfeit my Atreides loyalty.”

A bout of protest explodes from Leto and Jessica, and the sound of their disbelief cuts you deep. You collapse onto the ground, clutching your injured hand and watch in horror as Feyd-Rautha stomps on the clasp and shatters it.

Pieces go flying.

There’s a terrible joy in the Baron’s voice: “Enough, nephew. I believe you’ve made your point.”

“That was completely unnecessary —” Leto begins. He quiets as a trio of Harkonnen guards gather not towards him, but you, weapons and lasguns trained on your crumpled form.

A memory emerges from your subconscious, an afternoon in which Leto mentioned that having a child is like having a lasgun pressed to your temple at all times.

His throat bobs with suppressed emotion.

Your parents won’t try anything if it puts you in peril. Even Jessica’s control of The Voice is useless.

“Lady Y/N is now a member of the House Harkonnen. Her husband will do with her what he sees fit,” the Baron declares. “Nephew, have you had quite enough?”

Feyd-Rautha faces his uncle. “For now.”

You tremble beside him. A heady mix of pain and anger boils beneath your skin. The Harkonnen soldiers fall back as the Baron waves a massive hand.

“Take her to her chambers. I’ve had enough.”

You protest, “No! I need to say goodbye to my family!”

A sickening smile spreads on the Baron’s face, and he holds out his arms. “We’re your family now.”

You don’t even get a final glimpse of your parents as the soldiers hoist you to your feet and corner you off from them. The roughness of the guards jostles your injured hand. “Get off me,” you growl, yanking yourself free from their grasps.

The soldiers move to contain you once more but Feyd-Rautha rasps, “Listen to your future Baronness.” You gape at him. The faint hint of a smirk returns on his face, and he steps toward you. “I’ll escort her.”

Then he grabs your injured hand as a tether.

The doors to the throne room slam shut.

Feyd-Rautha’s grip on your hand is strong, undoubtedly a reminder of his control. It takes more than a few pulls to dispatch him and, once you do, he whirls on you with a curious, almost bewildered look.

You seethe, “What is wrong with you? How dare you destroy my family pin.”

“You cannot be my wife if you have loyalties elsewhere,” he says, as if the explanation is obvious. “Your loyalties are to me and the House Harkonnen.”

“I decided where my loyalties lay,” you tell him. “And they belong to no one but myself.”

Feyd-Rautha studies you, then huffs.

“I’m being serious,” you hiss.

“I know.” He steps casually toward you, though it’s anything but. Your body tenses. “So am I.”

An indescribable feeling crashes over you, sweeping you nearly off your feet. Everything you’ve heard about him vanishes. In a move that surprises even yourself, you advance on him, close enough to see the glint of glee in his dark eyes. He’s actually enjoying this.

“You have taken everything from me,” you sneer at him. “My home. My family. My name. My future.” You inhale shakily, fighting back a sob. “But you will not take away my allegiance.”

“Do you think that I wanted this?” Feyd-Rautha asks bitterly. “And don’t pretend as if you didn’t just forfeit that allegiance. To me. Have you already forgotten?” He touches your face, much to your chagrin. He crooks one finger under your chin and raises it. “Need I remind you?”

“You’re a monster.”

Feyd-Rautha’s handsome features arrange into what you can only describe as satisfaction. “Yes I am.”

You recoil as the Harkonnen then presses his lips to yours, holding your chin in place to keep you from shying away. It’s brief, almost perfunctory in nature. A passionless, predatory claim.

He pulls away, and the subsequent sound of your slap reverberates through the empty corridor.

Feyd-Rautha clenches his jaw. Your hand stings from the strike, and you hold it at your side in anticipation of a retaliating blow. He rolls his neck. An eternity passes before he turns his attention back to you, pale cheek still reddened by your hand. It pleases you to notice it.

“We’re even now. Wife.”

Feyd-Rautha snatches your hand, which until that moment the pain had been subdued by adrenaline. You wince. He kisses your already mottling knuckles, the sensitive skin of your wrist, never pulling his eyes from yours.

You refuse to react, to acknowledge the flicker of heat ignited low in your belly.

Feyd-Rautha drops your hand then and, as if nothing had happened, turns on his booted heel and starts down the opposite direction. “Come, wife. It’s time I show you our quarters.”

Part 3

Tags:

@moonsoulk @heartarianagran @torchbearerkyle

#dune #feyd x you #feyd x reader #these destined ends #part two #feyd smut #feyd rautha #fanfic #writing #fanfic writing #writers on tumblr #oh no he's hot

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obsessedvibee · 2 months

Text

Can't Sleep

MDNI, 18+, NSFW

Pairing: Austin Butler x reader

Warnings: lots of dirty talk, m. masturbation, f. masturbation, humping a pillow

Words: 1.6k

Summary: Austin is in Paris promoting Dune part 2 and he can't sleep in his hotel. He calls his girl to chat and things get dirty real fast. Phone sex ensues.

Authors Note: It's been way too long since I've written for Austin. Something about imagining him rubbin' one out just does something to me. So I thought I'd make everyone else suffer too. You're welcome. Comments & reblogs appreciated!

Enjoy!

He tossed the remote to the other side of the bed defeatedly. Flipping through the few channel options on the hotel tv could only entertain him for so long. Looking over at the clock the red number taunted him showing 4am. Being up for the last almost 36 hours would tire out most people but his body wouldn’t let go of consciousness. The jet lag certainly wasn’t helping either. His thoughts flickered to her. Doing the math in his head; she’d only be at 10pm in New York with Paris being six hours ahead. She should be home from work now. Finished with dinner.

He reached for his phone, quickly finding her in his contacts, before pressing it to his ear. The line crackled before it began to ring. His fingers mindlessly played with the string from the waistband of his sweats as he waited for her to pick up.

“Hello?”

Her voice sounded small and distant through the line and he hated it.

“Y/N, hi,” he rasped.

“Hi.”

A bit of rustling sounded on the other end as she sat up from the couch she was more than likely dosing off on.

“You sound tired,” he said, suddenly feeling guilty, “I should let you sleep.”

“No, no it’s fine,” she assured him, “I think I’m more bored than tired.”

He knew she was lying. She’d fallen asleep on that couch so many times when he’s home with her. Never being able to finish a whole movie without hearing her soft snores as she slept.

He was a little jealous if he was being honest with himself. He was never one of those people that could just pass out as soon as they close their eyes. Even more so if it wasn’t his own bed.

“Have you slept at all since you left?”

He sighed, “no.”

“Aus,” she said sympathetically.

He ran a hand over his face.

“Is there anything I can do to help?”

He hummed, “tell me about your day.”

And she did. From her drive to work to how much the phone rang, how her boss had gotten on her nerves, what she got for lunch, how her feet hurt from her new heels she bought the other day, her drive home, how she had to go back out to get chicken for dinner from the grocery store that she forgot to get yesterday. Every detail she rambled on about, but he didn’t mind. It made him feel less alone. Less like he was on the other side of the world.

“Hey, Austin?”

“Hm?”

“I’m gonna set you down for a sec, I gotta pee.”

He chuckled, “m'kay.”

He heard the clank of her setting the phone down, and he pulled his phone away from him for a minute checking the time. 4:30. At least the time was moving a little faster now.

Putting the phone on speaker, he checked a few emails while he waited when his phone chimed, with her name coming across the banner with a new text.

Leave it to her to text the person she’s currently chatting with.

Clicking on the banner, his phone swapped apps to the text.

But it wasn’t a text.

His heart rate rose as his eyes took in the photo.

She was posed in their bathroom mirror with a black lingerie set he’d never seen her in before. Her phone was in one hand snapping the photo while the other had her thumb through the waistband of her panties teasingly tugging them lower down her hip, hardly leaving anything to the imagination. Her breasts were barely contained in the bra, the cups hardly coming up over her nipples, her flesh pushed together creating ample cleavage.

He swallowed thickly as he felt the warmth of blood rush to his groin.

“You still there, Aus?” She asked feigning innocence.

He cleared his throat, “yea- yea.” He took a deep breath. “What are you-?”

He didn’t have a ton of words flying around in his head given the normal amount of blood that was in his brain was now being utilized elsewhere.

She giggled, “you need a little help getting to sleep, yeah? So I thought I’d give ya a little help.”

God, what did he do to deserve such an angel?

“Right now?”

Was this for now or after she hung up? This was new territory for the both of them.

“If you want?”

He felt her back tracking and he scrambled to steer the conversation back to the desired destination.

“Shit, yeah- yeah,” he shifted on the bed propping some pillows to lean back on as he rested his hand over his semi in his pants giving a little squeeze. “Are you- are you touching yourself?”

He heard her inhale before speaking, “should I be?”

“Please,” he almost whispered.

He ground his teeth, waiting for any sound from her. Something to feed his imagination. He lightly ran the back of his fingers over the tent in his pants, keeping his nerves on end.

A small moan sounded into his ear, and he immediately began to work himself with her.

His heart was pounding already, imagining her with her legs open on the couch, her hand working herself over her panties.

“Tell me what you’re thinking,” he breathed, his fingers slipping under the waistband of his sweats.

She struggled to find her voice. She took a breath, “you.”

“Yeah?” He worked at tugging down his pants. “What about me?”

“Aus,” she chuckled nervously, “I- I- don’t know if I can do this.”

He situated himself, slowly wrapping his hand around his length, giving her a moment. She always got a little shy with talking filthy.

Not willing to let the mood wane, he chose to take the lead. “I gotcha, just keep your hands busy for me.”

He heard her begin shuffling around before getting settled.

He sighed lazily, beginning to stoke himself, lightly squeezing on his upstroke. His thumb swiped the tip collecting the bead of precum, spreading it around.

“’m so hard for you right now,” he murmured huskily, his voice heavy with arousal watching his tip disappear into his fist.

A little whimper escaped her, rewarding his words, and boosting his ego.

Letting his eyes close, his mind began to tease him with images of her. Her smooth skin, her hair splayed out behind her. Was she starting slow and gentle?

A sharp inhale brought him back to the present.

“You alright?”

“Yeah,” she breathed. A soft moan followed, melting through the phone into his ear. “I just had to take everything off.”

He couldn't help but quicken his strokes as the sudden image of her legs spread, and center bare on their couch overtook his thoughts.

“Wanted to get more comfortable.”

“Fuck-, are you wet?”

She hummed, “so wet.”

Hearing her pleasured sounds were going to be his undoing.

“Put a finger in for me,” he coaxed her.

“Oh-“ she sighed heavily, “Austin.”

His cock throbbed, imagining how warm and tight she must feel. Her glistening folds wrapping around her little finger.

“Keep talking, Aus.”

He bit his lip as a smug smile threatened to appear. He had her right where he needed her.

“Don’t forget about my girls up top,” he spoke, “give ‘em a little attention for me.”

A full moan left her lips, making his cock twitch. He could practically feel her breaths on his ear. His mind kept conjuring up one filthy image after another. One hand in her pussy, the other groping her breast. Forcing his hand to pause, he squeezed at the base as the sudden urge to release overwhelmed him.

As he willed his heart to slow and the pleasured throbbing in his cock to weaken, a bunch of commotion sounded on her line. He listened intently as it quieted and a rhythmic sound started to come through. He reached down to massage his balls, swallowing thickly, “baby?”

A short whine came from her, sounding distant, before she shuffled the phone closer to her panting mouth, “are you close?”

He let his head fall back into the pillows with a huffed laugh, letting his fingers lightly play at the little sensitive spot under the head. “Just waiting on you, darling.”

He began stroking in rhythm with the sounds coming from her, his limbs tightening as the pleasure began to burn in his pelvis once more, “tell me what you’re doing.”

“I got a pillow-” she gasped, “-between my legs.”

His hips jerked, the primal urge to thrust breaking through his conscious.

“”You ridin’ it, like you do me?” He panted.

She couldn't even manage to string a sentence together anymore, a groan being her only reply.

“Cum with me baby, in 3-,” he began counting them down, “2-,”

Her whines were high causing goosebumps to cover his flesh, his fist flying impossibly quick over his shaft. He never thought further than her using her hand to pleasure herself, but imagining her grinding herself onto a pillow would be a fantasy he would be coming back to many times in the future, he was sure of it.

“Aus,” she cried, desperate for him to put an end to the agony.

“Cum for me,” he growled; a white heat flooding his pelvis.

A squeak was all he heard from her as she climaxed, and his cock suddenly became impossibly harder as the buzz in his veins shot through his tip. His head pressed deep into the pillows as his body tensed as his climax took hold. White spurted over his abdomen as he grunted like an animal with every lurch his cock gave, draining his seed, relieving his desire.

Relaxing his body, he quickly was left limp as he tried to catch his breath.

Minutes passed as they both regained a normal breathing rate.

He picked up the phone, taking it off of speaker, “thank you, baby.”

It wasn't long after they hung up that he was able to finally fall into a sweet sleep.

Need some more Austin smut? Check out my other works! > Masterlist

#austin butler #austin butler smut #austin x reader

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hongism · 1 year

Text

DUNE. - p. seonghwa (m)

➼ genre; smut ➼ pairing; seonghwa x fem!reader ➼ au; outlaw/biker!seonghwa, dystopian futurism, lore accurate ateez ➼ warnings; explicit smut, vaping mention ➼ rating; m/18+ ➼ wc; 5.4k

Your excursions with Seonghwa are never anything holy despite how sacred the time shared between you feels at times.

part of the outlaw miniseries.

────────────

➼ smut warnings; piv, unprotected sex, public sex (ie outdoors and on a motorcycle), oral: m, hair pulling, dirty talk, marking/biting, face fucking, deepthroating, slight edging, petnames: princess, kitten & doll, breeding kink, creampie, some religious imagery, slight objectification

────────────

“You bastard.”

Dressed in nothing but a towel to keep you modest, you exit the bathroom in your far too small apartment expecting nothing but the simple task of getting your nightclothes from your bedroom. That, however, seems to be an impossibly tall order given what’s waiting for you in the living room. Sitting on your couch. With his stupid dirty boots all over your best piece of furniture in the house. So you can’t very well be blamed for your outburst upon seeing him, especially given the fact that he’s dared to show his face here and now like this.

The window adjacent to your couch is cracked as well, letting the evening air and likely every bug in the city into your home too.

“It’s been two months,” you snap before you can think through the lengthy list of things you’d like to rip into him about.

Seonghwa drops his head on the back of the couch and shifts to smile over at you, lopsided and dorky and all-around infuriating. Even more humiliating is the fact that you missed the sight of that grin, of him on your couch and in your home, and you dearly missed knowing when he would come back to you.

“And?”

“Did you use the fire escape to get in here again?” You thought that you had latched and locked the windows particularly well after you settled with the fact that Seonghwa wasn’t coming back. And yet here he is, and your windows are unlocked again. The man laughs, bringing his head off the couch and leaning forward in a way that makes his slicked-back black hair shift and fall around his face. This is a dangerously unwell situation for you to be in. Shutting your eyes, you turn towards your bedroom, hand tightening at the towel around your body. If you look at him a moment longer, you’re well and truly going to jump his bones. While that’s not the worst fate you could think of, you’d like to seem a little more upset at him before you give into both your desires and his.

You hear the couch creak then the soft scuffs of his boots over wood flooring as you pull clothes out of the dresser. He’s not in the doorway when you turn around, which does surprise you somewhat, but you take advantage of the brief moment of privacy to change into the tee and jeans you just pulled out. You toss your towel at the doorway once you’re safely under the comfort of clothes, and half of Seonghwa’s face peeks around the corner.

“You going somewhere?” He asks the question so innocently that you nearly think he’s changed in the past two months. Still, he’s leaning fully against the door frame now with one hand pressed high up along the wood and leaning over the edge into your bedroom, and the seduction is still there. His allure with all its perks and twists and all the ease he performs his enticement with are on full display before your eyes.

“Aren’t we?” you offer in response, too impatient to bother with playing your usual push-and-pull game with him.

“You still know me well, huh?” Now that you’re closer to him and can look at him head-on, you see the all too familiar jacket clinging to his broad shoulders, the tight tank top beneath it that shows off a hint of his muscled arms and chest. Seonghwa must see something across your expression that you aren’t consciously aware of because he hooks his index finger under your chin and lifts your head to look you in the eye. “You’re irresistible when you pout, kitten.”

A hand reaches up to cup the back of his neck, skating across the fabric of his shirt as you move upwards, and when you grab hold of him, he’s already leaning down to meet you on your path to his lips.

“I’m still mad at you, by the way,” you murmur before laying a kiss against him. Seonghwa laughs into your mouth as his tongue breaks the seam and finds yours. He tastes like the same stupid flavor of vape juice you remember, which means he hasn’t quit like he said he would last time you spoke, but he seems to have kept using your favorite flavor. “It’s past curfew.”

“No it’s not,” he denies quickly, and you pull off his mouth completely just so he can see how hard you roll your eyes at him.

“It’s past curfew.”

“Fifteen minutes outside the city—” a firmly planted kiss that keeps you from responding “—twenty tops, it’s fine. You can even drive if you want? You know how hot I find it seeing you on my bike.” Now that you’ve broken the seal, Seonghwa can’t seem to pull his lips away from yours for even a full sentence with the way he keeps rushing to lick into your mouth between every few words.

“If this—ah, hey!” He nips the corner of your mouth, grin cheeky at best when you squeeze the back of his neck hard. “If this is what we’re going to do then why not just stay here?”

“Because I have something to show you.” When suspicion starts to overcome your features, Seonghwa leans down and bumps his forehead against yours. “And we haven’t checked the bike’s sturdiness in over two months… what if my baby isn’t as sturdy as she used to be, huh? She’s not getting as much practice as she used to.”

“And I wonder whose fault that is.”

“Mine and no one else’s, princess.” He’s giving you that damn smile that makes you cave every time without fail — the upturned lip one that makes his laugh lines appear — and you groan purposefully loud like it’ll change the outcome of the night you’ve already handed yourself over to. Everyone close to you in your life would rush to call you a doormat for this man, and you can’t say that they’re horribly wrong on any front. Maybe if they knew exactly how good the dick and banter are they would cut you some slack though.

“Fine, you win.” You pull him into another open-mouthed kiss that lets you have another taste. “But you’re driving there, I’ll drive back.”

Seonghwa grins like he’s just won the lottery of life, hand snapping to brace yours against his chest as he guides you to the window where he made his grandiose entrance. There are many questions at the forefront of your mind admittedly, but you opt not to bring any of them up quite yet solely because you don’t want to cause any headaches this early on in the night. If he decides to turn tail and run upon being confronted then what? You’ll have wasted your night on this man for no reason and it’ll be totally unfulfilling for the both of you, so you imagine he wants to keep the mediocre peace as much as possible too. You have no trouble leaving the window unlocked now, mostly because Seonghwa is the only person who has dared to break in in your area of town, and he doesn’t do so with the intention of taking any of your belongings: just you and your poor fragile heart.

His motorcycle sits alone in the alleyway your fire escape leads down to, and you watch him pop the small box trunk attached to the back of it for a few seconds before realizing that you truly are what he came for. He pulls a helmet out — the same one he used to always make you wear that fits you just right and you used to be convinced that he bought it solely for you, but he denied it so heavily you gave up on that notion a long time ago. He never carries it around unless he knows he’s coming to you because he’s always claimed to need the space for “work” related things if you can even call it that given the rather illegal nature of what he does with this very bike. You don’t mind that part one bit; Night City has gone to shit anyway, and the government keeps finding new ways to impose absurd laws on all of you. If Seonghwa wants to mess with their new world order a bit and piss all over their business, then you’re all for it. You hope he and whoever he works with bring them down a few notches while they’re at it. But you do want him to be safe, and you want to know he’s okay and alive out there, and you don’t want months of radio silence that leaves you wondering if you did something to run him off or if he got captured by the guardians or worse—

“Hey.”

You inhale sharply. Seonghwa slides the helmet down over your head then braces his hands on either side of it to lay a kiss on where your forehead would be if not for the protection. Behind the visor, you shut your eyes and take a deep breath. When you open them again, Seonghwa is perched on the bike, pulling his own helmet on, and you admire the pretty slope of his nose mere seconds before it disappears.

Unspoken rule #1: you don’t ask about his little foray into anarchy.

“I don’t even believe in any god yet I pray for your safety every time you leave.”

He reached across the space between your bodies on the couch that night and squeezed your thigh.

“I’ll give you something to believe in.”

That night he buried his face between your thighs and ate you out like a man worshiping at the altar on the cold floor in front of your TV.

Tonight, you’re more than okay with that.

Seonghwa’s body is like a furnace when you wrap yourself around him. He’s warm and comfortable in the most familiar of ways, and you can still taste him on the inside of your lips. You smile despite yourself, clinging to him harder as the motorcycle lurches into action. Seonghwa never wastes time, though there’s an added layer of danger tonight with curfew, but you have it in good faith that the whole notion is just a little scare tactic to keep people in line. Even months ago there were no patrols or active guardians wandering the streets at night. Whatever drones do monitor from the sky don’t do anything except spook citizens.

In retrospect, you should have stolen Seonghwa’s jacket off his back or brought your own because the night air whips your shirt and leaves you cold. The man in front of you isn’t much of a meat shield against it either, yet the combination of your shivering and the ever-increasing speed of the bike makes adrenaline drop in your gut. You could chase this feeling for the rest of your life but still not be able to capture it unless it’s with Seonghwa, and as much as you hate to admit that sort of dependency, you also revel in the knowledge that he only gets it from you as well. Maybe you’re more religious than you thought with the exchanged reverence and devotion you two hold for one another. A sort of sacrality permeates every touch and breath between your lips. It reaches you in full when Seonghwa pulls the bike to a stop at what must be his chosen destination. He eases your helmet off first before ridding himself of his own. The moment his lips are within reach, you find them with your fingers and trace over the soft skin there like he himself is holy text to be studied and recited.

“Come,” he says with a hand stretched out towards you. Like a sheep following its shepherd, you sling your leg over the bike and come to stand beside him. He’s brought you to a hill, just beyond the outskirts of the city, but the spot where it overlooks showcases something as fascinating as it is beautiful. Beyond the fences surrounding Night City, there is a clearing of simple dirt yet it’s full of light and life. Crowds upon crowds of people occupy the space, though they look more like ants from where you’re perched, yet even in the distance you can see how they move about. Dancing. “That’s one of the only spots the people in this hellhole can still be free.”

“Are…” You clear your throat and glance at your companion briefly. “Is that where your coworkers are?”

“There are others, yes. Many of them. Our bike crew likes to show off some nights and do tricks around the lot when we know the government is gonna be busy with other problems. But for the most part, people go there to listen to music and dance and sing… to enjoy the things every rich prick is trying to take away from us.” Seonghwa sighs. He brings a hand to his hair and runs his fingers through the strands to the point of disarray. “It’s not an excuse, but this is why I’ve been away from you for so many weeks. Trying to get some solid plans in motion and all that. You knowing too much would just put you at risk, and that simply wouldn’t do, princess. I need you safe and sound. I can’t be the reason you get hurt or suffer, especially not at their hands.”

“But… you hurt me.”

“I thought it would be easier to disappear entirely than to come up with some lie as to why I couldn’t come around anymore.” He draws his arms up in a rather clear act of defensiveness but he turns to face you directly as he relays the information. “And I knew that the second I showed up at your door with a lie figured out, I wouldn’t be able to go through with it. I guess everyone has a point in saying you’re my soft spot.”

One corner of your lips pulls up to form a crude smile, laugh exhaling out your nose in a rush of air. You reach for Seonghwa’s wrists.

“Cm’here.”

“What?” he complies nonetheless, matching your grin as you pull his arms away from his chest. His hands move around your body to tug you into his personal space like it’s just an extension of simple human movements, and you match the gentle affection with your own soft touches across his chest. Tracing upwards, you seek his jacket and secure your hands around the collar.

“Don’t lie and don’t hide from me again. If you can’t tell me, that’s fine. I’m okay with that. We can play house and do whatever when we’re together, then when the revolution comes knocking, we’ll deal with that too.” This is as close to I love you as you can go.

“Okay, princess. That’s a deal I’m gonna hold you to though.” Seonghwa leans against your body, and you let his weight sink down onto you with a quiet sigh. The lingering pass of silence lets you indulge in the feeling of him as he exhales heavily down your neck. He drifts lower until his lips ghost over the juncture of your neck, and the pressure in your chest increases tenfold with each feathering touch. When his teeth drag across your skin, you gasp out loud. Goosebumps rush across your body, a moan pulls from your lips, and Seonghwa sucks at your neck like he wants to pull the blood right out of you.

“H-Hwa.”

“Want you,” he murmurs. You have other things on your mind right now, however, and you doubt he’s going to be opposed to your suggestions so you tug yourself away from his wandering hands and tighten your grip on his jacket. His body is lax as you pull him around and lean him against the seat of his motorcycle. “Princess…” Seonghwa already looks to be in a daze when you sink to your knees between his legs, hands sliding across the firm muscles of his legs that are hidden beneath faux leather. His lips part in silent wonder, and his gaze follows yours with such intense focus that it feels like you’re the only two people on earth. You watch his mouth move but no noise comes out, no words, and whatever thoughts he’s having right now are lost on you because you can’t read his lips. It doesn’t deter you from your current goal — you have his zipper caught between your fingers already, and his button comes undone just as easily.

His shame knows no bounds, apparently, because you peel back his pants to bare skin with nothing between.

“You been thinking about me all day?” you tease, teeth toying with your lower lip as you flutter your lashes at him on purpose, but he sweeps you away with his hasty and breathless response.

“All day. All week. Every day since the last time I saw you.” A hopeless romantic, after all. You work his pants down his hips just enough to pull his half-hard length out, putting your lips around him without wasting any more time than you have to. Seonghwa moans from the first touch as your wet heat surrounds his cock and buries all the way in your throat. You take him in until he nudges the back of your throat and threatens to make you choke. Similar to how he laid between your legs and worshiped at your alter, you do the same now — on your knees for him with hands clasped around the base of his cock, you blink up at his strained face with glistening eyes and a prayer on your lips.

Seonghwa brings a shaky hand to the back of your head, but he finds his confidence the moment he grabs hold of your hair and guides your mouth to take his dick deeper. His tip pushes into your throat, and you’re quick to adjust your breathing, focus snapping away from his face so that you can steady your breath and bring air into your lungs. Wetness touches your lashes as your eyes fall closed. You tap his crotch twice, and he understands the signal immediately. It’s hard to believe two months have passed when you fall back into usual and familiar routines with such ease. Seonghwa tightens his hold on your hair, burying his fingers closer to your scalp, and air whistles through his teeth. He pulls out of your mouth suddenly, until the head of his cock lays heavy against your lips. You missed the taste of him desperately, even more so in this filthy and hedonistic way, but that realization quickly turns into an afterthought as you suck at his tip.

“Fuck, doll, missed using you like this,” Seonghwa groans above you, and you respond by swiping your tongue along the bit of his cock that he lets you touch. “You always let me fill your pretty little mouth so well. Could use you like a toy forever, fuck.”

“Then do it.” You grin against his cock head, chin tilting down so that you can press a kiss to the same spot. The noise that tears from Seonghwa is close to animalistic as he jerks his hips towards your mouth. You’re forced to drop your jaw as quickly as you can but it doesn’t fully keep your teeth from snagging at his skin, though that seems to do nothing but drive Seonghwa further into insanity as he thrusts hard into your mouth.

“Shit, my little doll, look at you.” You force your eyes open against better judgment just to look at Seonghwa’s face. He coos, free hand reaching around to cup your face, and he swipes his thumb over the apple of your cheek. “Such a messy doll you are, tears and spit all over that pretty face.” You gag, only for it to turn into a sob as he fucks your mouth like it's just another hole to use. “I’ll grant you your veneration, princess, if only you give me my absolution.” He still treats you as though you’re something holy after all this time too, it seems. His balls knock against your chin with each one of his thrusts, until you grow totally accustomed to the rhythm. You had been certain that he would stop before coming undone, but Seonghwa doesn’t seem keen on stopping any time soon with the way he’s enjoying your mouth, wet and warm around his dick. You want to drive him to completion now — the cotton fuzz in your brain that’s starting to block all thoughts outside of him and your arousal demands more, and you crave the feeling of his cock twitching on your tongue. You wish to taste his seed on the back of your tongue, to watch his legs tremble and buckle under his pleasure at your hands.

You hum around the weight on your tongue, and Seonghwa lets his hand go loose on your hair, swinging it back to catch on the seat of his bike so he can steady himself better. He hands over control to you in the same moment and gives you the blessed initiative that makes you splay your hands across his hips and brace yourself over his length as you take some time to catch your breath. It makes you acutely aware of your wrecked state too because you can feel the moisture all over your face, both from tears and the trails of saliva that Seonghwa caused. He leans back and pushes the bike further against its side-stand; not to the point of immediate concern but he is testing that sturdiness as he claimed he wished to earlier. You lick along the underside of Seonghwa’s cock, relishing in the way he twitches against your tongue.

“Are you close?” you ask. You aren’t expecting how horribly wrecked your voice is or how it sounds like you’ve chewed and tried to swallow gravel actually. Seonghwa makes no comment on it himself and instead just nods several times over as he gulps down greedy breaths of air. “Do you wanna cum in my mouth?”

“Jesus, princess, how can you just — say that with a straight face like that, christ.” Seonghwa brushes hair away from your forehead, pulling it back to be out of the way.

“You can keep going, right?” Your fingers curl around the base of his dick just to squeeze him a little bit to tease and stimulate him some more. “You’ll still be able to fuck me if you cum once, won’t you?”

“Baby—”

“Or can you still not finish without breeding me?” Seonghwa’s whole body reacts to your statement, and you hear the audible choke that overtakes him when you flatten your palm on his cock and press it against his stomach. His fingers extend while trembling then he draws them back into fists so tight his knuckles bleed white. You drive the heel of your hand further into his length, coming up halfway to let your fingers curl up over his tip. Taking precum onto your fingertips, you pull the same digits into your mouth and lick them clean, eyes glinting as you watch Seonghwa’s lips part in either want or wonder.

His mouth stays agape even after you stand up and press your body firmly on his. Your nipples clearly show through your top, bra forgone in your rush to get dressed when you saw him, and Seonghwa lets his hands wander up to pinch at them through the thin cotton.

“I take that as a no,” you whisper close to his mouth, letting your breath huff out across his lips. He moves against you with more force now and takes your lips with his own. You’re distracted despite the kiss on account of your hands being busy with your pants and unable to maintain contact without having to pull away to separate your shoes and pants from your body entirely. Seonghwa wraps an arm around your waist to bring you back to him, already attaching himself to your neck and nipping at the mark he left not long ago. “H-How?”

“Ride me—” he twists at the waist “—on the bike.” You’re taken aback by the request, but it also shouldn’t come as much of a surprise given the long list of delightful positions Seonghwa’s taken you in previously. Still, when he pats the back of the seat and slings his own leg over the body, you can’t help but wonder how you’re going to manage this at all. Over the back of the bike? Sure, you’ve done that many times. He’s bent you over the handles several times too, but never like this — with his back to the handlebars and you crawling up to his lap in what feels like a rather precarious position. “I’ve got you, kitten, come on.” Securing a hand on his shoulder, you let Seonghwa hoist you up over his spread legs, fingernails digging into your ass as he brings you down to his lap. You reach down to grab hold of his cock and guide him to your pussy. Normally, you’d love to have some sort of prep, especially with his dick and its size, but that’s far from your concern right now. You’ll regret it tomorrow when you’re sore and aching; by then, you’ll have him in your bed, looking after you and taking care of you, and you can make that his problem to sort out. Right now, you want him inside you and filling you up with a burn and a sting to remember him by.

Seonghwa takes great care to ease you down his length, hands holding you steady and firm. You hiss at the stretch of your walls around him.

“Feet on the rests, kitten, I’ve got you.” You hear the words and react accordingly, but your mind is elsewhere — focused on relaxing as best you can to accommodate his size. When he bottoms out at last, you lean your forehead against his, and he drags his hands up from your ass to massage along your lower back. “Don’t hold onto me, okay? Grab the handlebars.” Your firm glare is hard to miss, especially with your proximity to one another, but it just makes Seonghwa laugh into your cheek. “I’ll keep the bike steady no problem. Gotta put my long legs to use somehow, right?”

“Can’t believe you’re making me do all the work when you were the asshat who disappeared for two months!”

“It’s not too late for me to fuck you face first into the ground, doll, if that’s what you’re wanting,” Seonghwa purrs against the corner of your lips, and you reply with a cheeky kiss that involves you biting the tip of his tongue gently when he tries to explore your mouth.

“Don’t get too excited, baby. It’s my treat tonight.” You feel him twitch inside you as you reach around his body to grab for the handlebars, and the motion forces you to pull up from his cock a bit. He’s watching you with rapt focus, the same unholy expression as before paints his features again now, and it’s borderline intoxicating to see him unravel as you drop back down on his length. The noises of passion between you are reduced to exchanged moans and heavy breaths. For a man who always has something dirty to say, if only to rile you up further, he’s fallen to a mess of stuttered groans and pants that make you bounce on his cock faster and faster.

“Do I feel as — as good as y-you remember?” you ask through the sounds of skin slapping skin. Seonghwa’s whole face contorts and he throws his head back, unable to keep his hands to himself any longer. He scrambles to grab at your waist.

“Even better, s-so much fucking better.”

You tilt your chin towards the sky and laugh through a choppy moan. It’s then that Seonghwa catches you off guard: he eases you back along the seat of the motorcycle, forcing your hands to release the handles and laying you along the length of the seat. It’s not quite long enough to accommodate the position he’s going for, but you understand better when he pulls you down to meet his cock. He doesn’t wait for you to adjust further, driving his cock into you with a rabid passion that fills your stomach with fire and desire. Your dangling feet move to brace against the handlebar, and you plant them firmly against the flat of your foot just as Seonghwa pulls you down some more. Either you can’t control your noises as well like this or he’s simply fucking you better than ever because every thrust knocks a whiny moan out of you. There’s nothing for you to grab onto like this either — not above or around your head at least — so you have to settle for reaching down between your legs and bracing your hands on Seonghwa’s forearms.

“D-Dear fucking god, Hwa,” you whine.

“Touch yourself, touch yourself now, doll, I’m gonna cum soon.” You think you’re just as close yourself, to the point where a minute touch might make you cum embarrassingly quick, but you do as told, moving one of your hands down to roll firm circles around your clit in time with his thrusts. You don’t really have to move at all because his movements are doing the work for you. So when the climbing sensation of an impending orgasm starts to overwhelm you, you bring your fingers to a halt and let them press into your clit instead, where Seonghwa’s thrusts can jerk your hand against yourself in a crude form of masturbation.

“P-Please hurry, cum quick please, I’m about to—” your thoughts come to a grinding halt. Your mind goes blank, turning to an empty canvas, then the pleasure explodes and the orgasm shakes your entire body. Your toes curl around the handles in the same way that your back curls away from the seat.

“Inside? Do you want me to cum inside or — fuck, not? In or out?” Seonghwa’s voice is wound so tight that it sounds painful to the ears. You fist the sleeve of his jacket.

“Breed me? In, in, in, please breed me, Hwa.” He doesn’t need more instruction than that. A groan rips through him in time with his finish, and the sensation of his cock releasing hot spurts of cum makes you shiver. He leans back, your legs fall away from the handles, and the afterglow of your sex feels warm and heady. Hands are on your bare thighs, fingers rub deep into your muscles and work against the lingering tremble in them, and the air turns into a song of both your breathing. The whole atmosphere around you two feels sacred once more. You don’t want a single thing to disturb this carefully found peace, not even for a second. Folding your fingers around Seonghwa’s wrist, you use him as leverage to pull yourself up to a sitting position across from him.

All it takes is one quick beckoning motion for him to fall against your lips, granting you the kiss you’re after and securing you in his hold at the same time.

Seonghwa rights himself but keeps a hand firm on your hip as he climbs off the bike, only letting his touch fall away once he’s certain you’re steady and safe on your perch. You watch him tuck his softened dick back into his pants without exchanging words. You’re dazed yet exceptionally and thoroughly satisfied, and that feeling persists for some time. You don’t opt to speak until Seonghwa is bent over and grabbing your pants from the ground.

“Will you stay with me when we get back home?”

Seonghwa jerks his head in your direction. His dark eyes are wide, and you can see the contemplation cross his features even in the low light.

“Yeah, I think I will this time.”

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#seonghwa x reader #seonghwa smut #ateez x reader #ateez smut #ateez fic #ateez fanfic #ateez ff #ateez imagine #ateez imagines #seonghwa imagine #seonghwa imagines #caly.writes

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the-poets-might-disagree · 3 months

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ZENDAYA & TIMOTHÉE CHALAMET (Dune part one and part two press tours)

#timothée chalamet #zendaya #dune #dune part two #mine

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blueparadis · 10 months

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“He is not my fiance.”

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

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

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

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

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