#“no one dies with dignity”

[housepilled]

hilson coded jason isbell songs…save me..

[kicktwine]

oh so alisaie’s exaggerated bully behavior is 80% fanon. saying this she casually picks up a large rock

[hellofunkytown]

we try to ignore the elephant

i know you’re surrounded by family

but you’re dying alone

aren’t you, sammy

i died with you by my side

you’ll never hear the end of it

when i see you again

i’ll make sure you’re never

alone

again

(elephant- jason isbell is a great song and i’m obsessed)

[probablygayattorneys]

Gregory Edgeworth is a Christ figure. I will not elaborate.

[theinfinitedivides]

i see each of the Girls' hands on that lever after Vikram asks if they're ready to go and i lose it. without fail that's a trigger for the waterworks

[married-to-a-redhead]

I buried her a thousand times

Giving up my place in line

But I don't give a damn about that now

There's one thing that's real clear to me

No one dies with dignity

We just try to ignore the elephant somehow

We just try to ignore the elephant somehow

[jewishcissiekj]

I need to put all the Asajj death moments in one place

[arretoskore]

I find it incredibly funny that all the people in Plato's dialogues are known even 2500 years later because, according to him, They Were Wrong. Like "congratulations! You have an Incorrect Opinion! Your prize is that your name is going to be the title of the short story I made up about my (unjustly put to death) mentor humiliating you while explaining why he has the Correct Opinion instead!!"

[megaclaudiolis]

柄本 佑 || 「光る君へ」 (2024) · 第十五回 「おごれる者たち」 ​​​

[spacelazarwolf]

apparently a bunch of ppl on social media are trying to call for a boycott of rick riordan because of this statement in a blog post:

Becky and I are just back from a busy weekend with events at the Boston Book Festival and New York Comic-Con.

Before I get into that, however, some words to acknowledge the ongoing horrors in Israel and Gaza. As many of you may know, I am no longer on social media. My accounts post only updates on my books and related projects. I do not read posts, reply to posts, or share my thoughts about world events on those forums. That doesn’t mean I don’t have strong feelings and reactions. It means I am offline as completely as possible, except for the occasional blog post like this one.

I will say this: Over the last eighteen years, I have received many fan letters from young readers, both Israeli and Palestinian, who often told me that my books helped them escape the fear, grief and anxiety they were dealing with at the time. Some had lost family members to violence. Some were writing while in the distance they could hear explosions, gunfire, and the launching of rockets. They used my books as a way to escape into another world, where the monsters were fictional, and where demigods usually saved the day. While I am always glad that my books can help young readers find joy during difficult times, my heart breaks every time I hear about the things they have to deal with. I am grief-stricken by the horrific events now unfolding, especially because I know that they are part of a long historic pattern that has been robbing too many children of their childhood and perpetuating hatred for far too long.

I am also quite aware that when anyone, myself included, tries to speak about this issue, the reader is waiting to pounce, thinking, “Yes, but whose side are you on?” That is exactly the wrong question. If there are two sides to this issue, those sides are not Palestinian/Israeli or Muslim/Jewish. The two sides are humanitarian and dehumanizing. Dehumanizing has a long evil history. It is appealing and easy to buy into, because humans are tribal animals. We are hardwired to think in terms of ‘us’ versus ‘them.’ We are the real humans, the good guys, the ones with God on our side. Those other people are evil monsters who don’t deserve empathy. Hate mongers have thrived on dehumanizing for as long as there have been humans. It provides them with a purpose, a way to rally support, power, and scapegoats. It is easy to point to atrocities committed by our enemies, while justifying or minimizing the atrocities committed by ourselves or our allies.

Humanitarianism is a much harder sell. It requires us to empathize, to see other groups of people as equally deserving of dignity and quality of life. It requires not always putting ourselves and our needs first. But in the long run, humanitarianism is our only hope. If violence could end violence, if we could put an end to “those other people” once and for all, human history would read very differently than it does.

So yes, I am appalled by the Hamas attacks on Israeli civilians. I am appalled by the suffering of Palestinian civilians in Gaza. Both things can be true. Both things must be true. My thoughts are with all the people who have died, who have lost loved ones, who have had their worlds and their lives shattered, especially the children. More death and violence will not break this cycle, which has been going on for generations. There is no military solution. Even since I first wrote the post, only twenty-four hours ago, the Israeli government’s brutal retaliation against the entire population of Gaza has reached genocidal proportions. This is not only an atrocity. It is folly. Answering misery with misery only creates more fertile ground for extremism, dehumanizing the “other side,” letting hate mongers thrive, stay in power, and reduce us all to our most monstrous impulses. The only real solution is treating each other like equally worthy human beings, and negotiating a peace that allows all parties a chance to live in security and dignity, with hopes for a future that does not include bombs and rockets and gunfire. This means security and support for Israel, yes. It also means a secure Palestine which is allowed to get the international aid and recognition it needs to build a viable state.

Do I think that will happen? Unfortunately, no. Humans are simply too selfish, too ready to blame “the other” for all their problems, too ready to dehumanize, though I also believe, perhaps paradoxically, that most people just want to live their lives in peace and have a chance for their children to have a brighter future. The problem is when we don’t allow other people to have those same hopes and dreams — when it becomes a false choice of us versus them.

What can I do? I will continue to write books that I hope will give young readers some joy. I will resist the urge to demonize entire groups of people. I will call for less violence, not more violence. And when asked whose side I am on, I will tell you I am on the side of humanitarianism.

So with that said, I return to the world of books . . .

honestly, if you have a problem with this statement, it’s probably because he’s talking about you. this is exactly what legitimate activists (as in not just random westerners who share social media posts but on-the-ground activists who are doing real work) have been saying for decades. and i think all this really speaks to just how disconnected a lot of westerners who claim to be pro palestinian are from those activists.

if you can’t read a statement that says “i am on the side of humanitarianism and less violence” without immediately jumping to cancel them, you are the problem being discussed in the above statement.

[phantomrose96]

It always surprises me how many deactivated users there are here. And maybe most of them are the natural consequence of URL-hopping, but beyond those, the ones that intentionally deactivated--just the idea of actively deciding to terminate an account is so foreign to me.

I'm in the business of atrophy.

My Neopets exist, and persist, and are dying and continue to die for the last ten years my account has been dark. My penguin lived until the day Club Penguin died, immobile in its igloo, decoration among the puffles. My Webkinz stand in rooms which time refuses to allow even the dignity of gathering dust. My footprint stuffs the digital shelves of datacenters for sites and accounts I do not remember making.

I've made a horde of scattered exoskeletons, shells which I cannot even call ghosts because that implies a presence. They are husks. They are archives. They are records. I do not ever consider the mercy of allowing them to die.

[sansaorgana]

— THROWN TO THE WOLVES (IX)

PART ONE || PART TWO || PART THREE PART FOUR || PART FIVE || PART SIX PART SEVEN || PART EIGHT || PART TEN

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

SUMMARY — Feyd-Rautha focuses on bringing back the spice production to full efficency while his wife plots against The Baron. The ghosts of her past are haunting her in the Arrakeen Palace where her family lived and died.

AUTHOR’S NOTE — It’s written as an usual x Reader fic without describing anything about the Reader’s looks but I still classified it as an OC as well since she is Paul Atreides’ half-sister. This chapter is quite long so I think the next one will be the last...? Of course I am open to write some additional chapters with these characters in the future 👀 Thank you everyone supporting my work 🙏🏻😭 I don't know when I'll post the next / last chapter. Next week I hope but it might take me more time than usual because I have to catch up with uni work finally lol

WARNINGS — arranged marriage, mentions of sexual activities (no actual smut), violent behaviour, death

WORD COUNT — 8,170

ENGLISH IS MY SECOND LANGUAGE.

THROWN TO THE WOLVES (IX)

Feyd-Rautha was barely able to hide his excitement on that day. Becoming the Governor of Arrakis was a huge deal – not only it proved that he was his uncle’s worthy successor if he was given such responsibility, but also Arrakis remained the most important planet under the Harkonnen rule due to the spice resources. Controlling this planet was like controlling the universe.

Before the official ceremony would begin, he had to deal with the formalities, all dressed up in the accurate black leather attire and pride on his face. Then his wife entered the throne room accompanied by the guards and from that moment he could only focus on her.

Her black leather dress’ design was mimicking his uniform’s one and her face was hidden by the veil made of chains and gemstones. She walked past him and bowed down in front of his uncle. Feyd knew that was the custom but it still made him clench his jaw and blood boil.

She straightened herself and fixed her dress on her abdomen as it was getting too tight in that area. Feyd smirked at the sight of her womb getting visibly swollen with his child. With his heir.

His wife signed the contract about him becoming the new Governor of Arrakis as the Atreides signet ring sparkled on her pinky finger. The truth was, her signature was not required there at all but the Baron loved to humiliate her in this way. However, she managed to do it with such dignity. Feyd wondered if she still felt like an Atreides. That signet ring wasn’t leaving her pinky finger at all ever since it had been adjusted to her size.

He wondered if it was a symbol of power for her or did she keep it for sentimental reasons.

Sentiment. That word was new in Feyd-Rautha’s dictionary. But now, when he watched his wife standing behind him with her hands clasped on her womb, he swore he could feel it.

He couldn’t explain most of the things happening inside his body at the sight of her. It was more than plain desire or sexual attraction. In fact, he had had lovers more adventurous than her and surely more experienced. But he had never met a woman like that.

She made him think of his mother, especially now, when she was expecting his child. He wondered what kind of mother she would be. Would she… love… his son? Or would he be another pawn in her court games…?

His mother was cold and distant but only recently Feyd had realised it was no reason to kill her. Was it possible that some part of him regretted it? His uncle had manipulated him into doing something he couldn’t truly understand back in the day – an act impossible to undo and sealing his murderous fate.

But even his mother had never touched him so gently like his wife. And he knew that it was weak to crave that but he did – he craved more from her and her only. He would kill anyone looking at her the wrong way but she could disrespect him in any way and he’d still be on his knees for her. He had never been as obedient to his uncle. He had feared him as a little boy and then he had hated him, waiting for his turn on the Harkonnen throne. The obedience to his wife was dictated by admiration and… sentiment.

Yes, that was a new word in his dictionary.

And his harpies… Well, he had been attached to them but killing them had felt cold – he hadn't even felt sorry.

The room slowly filled with people who were to witness his nomination for the Governor of Arrakis. Feyd stood proudly and already imagined the day he would be nominated The Baron Harkonnen.

And when his uncle officially named him the Governor, Feyd grabbed his face and brought it down for an angry kiss that was a mockery of gratitude. In that kiss there was a promise of the upcoming succession of the much more important title. In that kiss there was the Harkonnen poison and everyone cheered but the Baron knew.

He knew.

You were laying on your bed on the ship inside your cabin and playing with the Atreides signet ring on your pinky finger. It felt surreal to realise that under different circumstances you would had made the same journey a few months earlier with your family when your father had been gifted Arrakis.

Your stream of thoughts was interrupted abruptly by Feyd walking inside the cabin.

“Apparently, Rabban has no idea we are coming,” he announced with a smirk and sat on the bed next to you, waiting for your approval like a little boy after telling his mother exciting news.

“Why do you hate him so?” You only asked and his smirk dropped in an instant. “Is he not your brother?”

“Do you love yours?” Feyd tilted his head a little as he watched you carefully.

“It doesn’t matter anymore,” you smiled sadly at him and caressed your bump. “He is dead and so is his older sister. But in that relationship, I was Rabban and Paul was you.”

“I am better than Rabban. He means nothing,” Feyd shrugged his arms, visibly annoyed at the fact that you scolded him and started asking questions instead of sharing his excitement.

“Do you think you will catch a tan on Arrakis?” You changed the subject and chuckled at the confused glance he gave you.

“I’m not going there for vacation,” he moved closer to you on the bed and placed his hand on your womb. You felt its warmth spreading all over your body. “And neither are you,” he reminded you.

“I know.”

“The medic says that the Arrakis might do you good. The sun and all,” Feyd explained, a bit awkwardly.

“Yes, I know. But it is also not a very pleasant environment. It is hot and dry,” you sighed. “And full of spice.”

“You will have everything you want and need there, my Baroness,” Feyd leaned in to suck on your neck – his idea of a romantic kiss. You leaned back and sighed at the pleasure.

“How big do you think he is now?” You caressed your husband’s hand gently and he moved away from the crook of your neck to look into your eyes. “Our son. Do you think he is still smaller than your hand?” You bit on your lower lip. “I like to imagine him so little that your hand covers him whole when you place it on my womb.”

“Do you think of him often?” Feyd asked and you furrowed your brows at his question.

“Of our son?” You wanted to make sure and he nodded. “All the time,” you answered with all honesty. “And you…?” You asked, carefully.

“All the time,” Feyd nodded and looked down at his hand caressing your bump.

“And what do you think?” You were scared to know the answer but you needed to know it.

“I’m proud to have a son. He will be the Baron one day and I will train his body to become even stronger than mine. And you will train his mind to be sharp like yours,” Feyd looked at you. He was serious but you chuckled at that as you caressed his cheek with your thumb.

“Just promise me that you won’t do to him what has been done to you,” you whispered as the smile disappeared from your face. “Please,” you pleaded.

“It has to be done,” was all he said as his jaw clenched.

“No, it doesn’t,” you shook your head. You could feel the tears forming in your eyes. Thinking of what your husband had gone through was painful enough but imagining your son going through the same thing was even worse.

“How else do you want him to be a great warrior?” Feyd laughed at you. “He will need discipline.”

“Discipline does not have to mean abuse. I want him to follow your steps out of admiration and respect. Do you want your own son to feel the same way towards you that you feel towards your uncle?” You raised an eyebrow at him. “Do you want your son to plot how to get rid of you? To wait impatiently for you to finally die and rot?”

“No, I do not,” he admitted after a short while of hesitation.

“Then we will do it my way,” you stated.

“I don’t want my children to be weaklings,” Feyd drawled as his hand squeezed your womb possessively.

“Neither do I,” you assured him. “And it insults me greatly that you think that I would raise them to be weak. I hate weakness,” you gave him a stern look.

“There’s your answer why I hate my brother,” he said and moved down to lay his head on your womb. You carefully caressed his temples in a soothing manner.

You still had to play little games with him sometimes, you assumed it would always be like this one way or another. But you loved him. Yes, you loved him.

Princess Atreides would rather die than admit that. For the Harkonnen na-baroness it was difficult to admit her feelings, too. But you didn’t mind giving up and finally allowing yourself to confess the truth. It was making you feel less lonely in the world. Perhaps it was love dictated by the fact you had no one else around. Perhaps you loved the way he worshipped you. Perhaps you loved him for the way he was making you feel so powerful and important. But at the end of the day, it was love. Not that you planned to say it out loud.

It was true that you hated weakness but Feyd-Rautha was yours. If he was to die, you’d die, too. You had no home to go to, no family member to turn to. All you had was him. Him and the dream of the life you two were supposed to live one day.

You knew that the black colour was a bad choice for the planet like Arrakis. But you couldn’t imagine wearing anything else. As a Harkonnen you had to establish dominance in your House’s way. Your arrival dress had to be black and made of a flowy material with a semi-transparent veil to protect your skin from the hot rays of sunshine and the wind full of harsh sand and spice.

The very first step you took outside the ship nearly made you dizzy. It felt so odd after so many months to feel the sunlight on your skin and to see the colours while not being inside any building – even if the colours of Arrakis were not many.

“My Lady,” Astra and Cara followed you outside, both widening their big, black Harkonnen eyes at the sight of the desert, “are you alright?”

“Yes, my girls, I am,” you held their hands.

“Let’s go inside, na-baroness,” the medic joined you. “At this time of the day it is recommended not to go out,” he explained and you nodded before following him with your girls, guards and all the servants carrying your things. Feyd was already inside the palace with his uncle and dealing with an embarrassed and humiliated Rabban.

You looked up through your veil and examined the sight of the building in front of you. It was not much cosier than the Harkonnen fortress on Giedi Prime. On the inside the design was raw as well, but some part of you was already used to such an environment.

“My Lady,” one of the servants approached you. He had already been living there for quite some time now as he had come to Arrakis with Count Rabban. “Shall we prepare the rooms for you and na-baron or will you take the room that belonged to the previous Duke? Count Rabban did not take it, therefore we left it untouched,” he informed you and you froze for a second.

“My father’s room? It is left untouched?” You gasped.

“Yes, my Lady na-baroness, Duchess Atreides,” the man was bowing down so low you became concerned about his spine.

“Enough of the titles, take me there,” you ordered and then you turned around at your servants. “Wait here. I will let you know what room I am taking.”

“My Lady,” they all nodded as you followed the man alone. You didn’t want even Astra and Cara around you because you couldn’t tell what your reaction to your father’s chambers would be.

“Behind that door, na-baroness,” the servant bowed down and pointed at the doors. You pushed them and let them close behind you as your body trembled at the sight. You lifted the veil off of your face and looked around.

The room was arranged in a similar way as your father’s chamber back on Caladan. Duke Leto hated any form of mess and he had everything always put in its place. You wandered around and touched all the personal belongings – his chair, his desk… You froze at the sight of the pictures he had there. One picture was of him and Lady Jessica, the other one was of you and Paul. There was even a tiny picture from his wedding day with your mother. You remembered that picture very well as you had once asked him about it. He had told you he kept it out of respect for her and for you.

You had no idea he would still keep it even if you weren’t around.

You opened the desk. Someone had been rummaging inside – most likely to take the jewellery and the important documents. But the personal letters stayed. Personal letters and… a small doll.

You had given it to him at the age of four and asked him to take care of it. You didn’t expect he had been keeping it all these years.

“Oh, father…” you whispered and brought the doll close to your heart. “One day, it will be my daughter’s,” you decided and were about to walk away from the desk when you spotted an unfinished letter.

Carefully and curiously, you picked the paper up and read the few sentences that he had written down before taking a break and never being able to go back to it again.

Dear Daughter, I am aware of the anger and all the resentment you must be holding in your heart towards me. I am not asking for much but please, write back to us. If not for me, then do it for Paul. We both miss you dearly and we are worried when you are not answering our letters personally. All we want to know is if you are safe and…

Your eyes widened and your heart skipped a beat. So, they had been writing to you. All this time... And only Baron Harkonnen knew how many letters had been kept away from you. Of course he had lied to you. How could you be so stupid…?

You clenched your fist and then threw the crumpled paper back into the drawer. It didn’t change anything now. It brought you some peace, deep down, but it didn’t mean anything anymore. It wouldn't take back time.

You approached your father’s bed and spotted a robe laying there, discarded. He would wear that over his nightwear when he was leaving the room in the middle of the night due to an emergency. You assumed that the Harkonnen invasion was an emergency so sudden and violent that he had no time to put it on.

The robe was silk and dark green with the Atreides emblem on the chest. You sat on the edge of the bed and put the doll down on your lap before taking the robe in your hands and squeezing it as you brought it to your face. It still faintly smelled like him. It smelled like your father.

You buried your face in the silk and closed your eyes, remembering his embrace. For a short while it was almost as if he was still there, holding you and telling you it would be alright.

But it wasn’t alright. It hadn’t been alright and his daughter had died. You couldn’t tell when it happened exactly. Had Princess Atreides die in that cell on the night before her wedding? Or when she had been locked up after the Baron had told her about going to Arrakis and killing her family? Or maybe she had died somewhere in the meantime. Perhaps when she had seen Feyd taking an innocent life for the first time. It was really hard to tell but she was definitely gone now.

You startled at the sound of someone entering the room without knocking. It was Feyd – no one else would dare to do that.

“I’ve been looking for you,” he said and froze at the sight of you holding your father’s robe. “Are you alright?”

“Yes,” you stood up and threw the robe on the floor as you picked the doll up. “Burn it,” you ordered. “And we’ll take a different room. They can clean up this one,” you approached him and handed him the doll in your hands. He took it, confused.

“What is this?” He asked.

“Our next child will be a daughter and you will give it to her when she is born,” you told him sternly.

He snorted at first but then he realised that you had been dead serious. The doll held lots of significance and meaning to you and he didn’t even have any idea how much you trusted him with it.

Feyd nodded his head after a long while and he looked down at the doll, awkwardly holding her in his pale hands.

“My Lady, what is your decision?” The servant knocked upon the door and joined you.

“I don’t want this room, clean it up,” you told him.

“Do you want a room next to your husband’s, na-baroness?” He asked.

“No, we will share one room,” you told him and he bowed down before leaving you quietly. “Unless you want your own,” you laid your eyes on Feyd.

“I want what you want.”

You were walking through the endless desert. It was like the oceans back on Caladan but instead of the water there was sand. The heat did not bother you and you did not feel tired at all. However, all this walking seemed pointless. You didn’t know where you were or where to go.

And then you spotted someone on the horizon. A tiny figure in a stillsuit and your heart skipped a beat. Was it one of the Fremen? You didn’t want to find out but your legs kept walking anyway as if you had no control over your body.

The figure remained motionless. After a while you spotted it was a man. You wondered why he was not reacting at all, seeing you walking towards him. Perhaps he was waiting for you. But why?

When you were close enough to see his face, you gasped. It was your brother, Paul Atreides, with his eyes blue from the spice, wearing a Fremen armour and he seemed to stare in the distance. Now you realised that he couldn’t see you even though you were facing him.

“Paul?” You asked as your body stopped walking with your face inches away from his. “Brother?”

He startled a little and furrowed his brows. Did he hear you…?

“Paul,” you said again and his eyes found yours.

“Sister,” his voice was different now. It was rough and held no affection. It made your blood run cold.

“What are we doing here?” You asked sadly. “Let’s go back home.”

“What is home now?”

“Caladan,” you explained.

“We cannot.”

You woke up abruptly and sat up, breathing heavily as you felt the sweat running down your spine and forehead. You had never experienced a dream so vivid and realistic as this one.

You assumed it was because of Arrakis. The heat could cause such a vision or perhaps it was all that buried deep down grief after losing your family. Being here now, in that palace where they had lived and died, it was making you feel odd.

Feyd woke up as well and you heard him reaching out for the knife underneath his pillow.

“It’s alright,” you told him. “I’ve just had a bad dream.”

“It’s your first night on Arrakis. Maybe it’s the spice messing with your head,” you felt his hand rubbing your back. “Lay down, come to me,” he whispered and you did.

You laid your head on his chest and hugged him tight like a scared child. Your heart was pounding and you felt dizzy. But you didn’t want to tell your husband what the dream was. He didn’t ask anyway.

On the next day you were gathered in a conference room. Everyone was there, the Baron and Count Rabban, too. You hoped that they would go back to Giedi Prime but it seemed like they wanted to stay and ensure that the spice production would go back to normal. You tried not to make a face at that as you watched the hologram globe of Arrakis in front of you on display.

“Shouldn’t the Fremen delegation greet the new Governor of Arrakis?” You asked.

“The Fremen do not have negotiations with us anymore. We are in the state of war, na-baroness,” one of the engineers answered you with a nod of his head.

“Let it be war, then,” you nodded back.

“What is causing the biggest problems?” Your husband asked as he gave his brother a contemptuous look. “Apart from the bad governing of the resources.”

“The Fremen have a new leader, a mysterious Muad’Dib,” The Baron explained and for some reason a shiver went down your spine at the mention of the name. You didn’t know why because it didn’t sound sinister or dangerous.

“And what about him?” Feyd asked. You could hear he was bored of the meeting and wanted real action as soon as possible.

“They are destroying our machinery and killing our soldiers, slowing down the production. He is unstoppable. Like a shadow,” Rabban explained and Feyd snorted at him.

“My big scary brother failed to deal with one Fremen savage,” he drawled. “Instead of slaughtering them all.”

“And what would our Baroness do?” The Baron interrupted Feyd and stared at you with a smirk. Suddenly, the whole room laid their eyes on you and you blinked a few times, surprised.

“Why would you ask a woman that?” Rabban inquired and Feyd hissed at him for that remark.

“Because I want to know her insight. Our Baroness happens to have interesting ideas,” Baron teased, his squinted eyes never leaving yours.

“I would oppose slaughtering the Fremen,” you stated.

“I’ve told you, she’s just a woman,” Rabban laughed.

“She is the Governess of Arrakis and your na-baroness and you will respect her,” Feyd barked.

“Enough!” You banged the fist on the table and the sound echoed through the chamber full of the Harkonnen servants and engineers widening their eyes at you. “Both of you!” You snapped. “Acting like children,” you scolded. “I am not the Governess of Arrakis, Feyd,” you laid your eyes on him and he looked a bit taken aback by your outburst. “That title does not work that way. You’re the Governor and I am your wife. However,” you looked at the Baron again. He was smirking all that time. “I do not think slaughtering them will bring us profit. They know the desert and the spice more than we do. We need them as obedient allies. But in order to have them as allies, we have to defeat them and their will to fight. We need to hit them with aggression that they have not yet seen nor experienced in their worst nightmares,” you raised your chin up.

“And that aggression is Feyd-Rautha,” Baron nodded at your husband.

“If we have negotiations with the Fremen in the future, I’d like to be there,” you announced and Rabban snorted. You knew that he did not mean these things personally, he was just frustrated that he was being replaced by his brother and seeing that an off-world woman was holding more influence than him had to be rough for his ego.

“What’s so funny, brother?” Feyd asked him and you rolled your eyes. They were at it again. “The only thing I find funny is how my wife has more brains than you.”

“And why is that funny?” You asked him, irritated.

“That is enough indeed,” Baron raised his hand. “We all have better things to do,” he announced and everyone bowed their heads as he left the room.

You watched your husband and his brother leaving right behind him, still having an argument like little children. Then you took a deep breath in and stood up to go back to Astra and Cara.

However, when you left the room, Feyd grabbed his brother’s neck and pushed him down on the floor. He basically threw him at your feet and you were surprised that he had managed it so easily since Rabban was a big and strong man.

“You will kiss her shoe and show your na-baroness respect,” Feyd ordered, “as you beg for her forgiveness.”

You looked down as Rabban looked up, scared. As much as it brought you some satisfaction to have a big, strong Harkonnen count who was called Beast Rabban at your feet, you felt sorry for him, too. 

“Feyd, there is no need,” you looked at your husband.

“No, there is, because I say so,” he insisted and kicked his brother’s head. “He will kiss your shoe or die.”

“I said, there is no need,” you repeated, more sternly this time. “Your brother is not my enemy like he is not yours either,” you pointed out. “Stand up, Count Rabban,” you ordered the man.

Carefully and hesitantly he moved up, trying to avoid looking into your eyes.

“You shall remember the kindness I have given you,” you told him and he nodded. “Now, leave.”

You watched him walk away as fast as possible and then you looked at your husband. He wasn’t pleased but he was trying to hide it. You could tell when he was angry very easily from his facial expressions by now.

“Do not torment him. He might be useful,” you told him.

“He will do anything to keep his pathetic head on. He’s got no honour,” Feyd snorted at that. “He would kiss anyone’s shoe if his life depended on it.”

“Then he is more like me than I have expected,” you only said and walked past him, leaving him behind, surprised.

“You are not like him,” Feyd followed you as he grabbed your wrist. “You have honour.”

“Do I?” You chuckled and turned around to face him. “I did everything to survive. It had nothing to do with honour. I became a Harkonnen instead of doing what my Atreides pride was telling me to do and that was to kill myself before letting any of you hurt me or change me.”

“It is different,” he was trying to deny your words. You were confusing him now.

“You also do not have honour, Feyd-Rautha. The way you used to fight drugged warriors in the arena. It has nothing to do with honour,” you reminded him as his jaw clenched. “And you know what? I don’t care,” you shrugged your arms. “My father, he was an honourable man. And look where it has gotten him. We are too cunning for honour.”

“We?” Feyd asked.

“The Harkonnens,” you explained and cupped his face to pull his head down and place a kiss upon his forehead. “Now, go, weren’t you supposed to terrorise the poor Fremen?”

He smirked at you and leaned in to place a hungry kiss upon your lips as his hand caressed your womb.

“Be careful, my darling, come back to me in one piece from the treacherous desert,” you bid him farewell and kissed him one last time before going back to your chambers.

Weeks had passed and the mysterious Muad’Dib remained uncaught, however the spice production came back to full efficiency. It was difficult to celebrate such victory, though, because you weren’t even sure if it was because of Feyd-Rautha being a good Governor or was it because of his uncle who still was present on Arrakis. Both him and Rabban. You wondered how things had been back on Giedi Prime – especially now, when all the important Harkonnens were on Arrakis.

You had your girls and your medic and much less nosy guards following you everywhere. The Arrakeen Palace was giving you lots of freedom and safety but it was also a much more boring place than the fortress on Giedi Prime. It was full of ghosts, too – you couldn’t stop thinking your family had been slayed in that very place.

You kept dreaming of Paul each and every night. It was making you feel weary and frustrated at this point. You didn’t want Feyd to know so you often would leave the bed quietly in the middle of the night and walk outside to sit on the balcony. There was something fascinating about the desert; it was so calm yet dangerous. By day it was too hot to just stare and admire but at night it was peaceful and with no one around to bother you.

Tonight you were standing and admiring the moon in your nightgown, with your hand caressing your swollen womb. It was getting bigger and bigger each day and you could feel the child move now. The medic assured you he was placed properly and growing healthy. You wondered if your son would be born on Arrakis.

“What’s wrong?” Feyd’s voice made you turn around. He was standing by the entrance to the balcony and staring at you.

“I can’t sleep,” you lied. You could but you didn’t want to. You didn’t want to dream of Paul.

“Again?” Feyd sighed and approached you. He stood behind you and leaned your body on his chest. It made you sigh out of relief and he placed his hands on your abdomen. “Perhaps the spice is doing you harm.”

“No, the medic would have noticed that,” you shook your head. “Perhaps it’s your son keeping me awake,” you made up a believable excuse and Feyd chuckled.

“And what are you doing here? Staring at the sand?”

“I don’t expect you to understand the beauty of the desert,” you teased. “But yes, the sand, the moon, everything.”

“When I will become the Baron, we will have a little tour and visit every planet under Harkonnen rule,” he whispered into your ear. “You will see many beautiful things, my darling pet.”

“And when will that be?” You snapped, frustrated. “In ten years? A hundred?” You snorted.

“What are you talking about?” Feyd took a step back and leaned on the railing to take a better look at your face but you remained staring in the distance.

“What is he still doing here? I thought Arrakis was ours. Yet, he is here and it feels as if we are being supervised. Meanwhile, Giedi Prime remains without protection,” you drawled through gritted teeth.

“If you were him, would you leave us two to each other?” Feyd asked.

“Are you by his side again?” You finally looked at him, angrily. “He gave you the planet to govern and you’re defending him again?”

“I am not defending him,” Feyd got angry, too, at your words. “But it is obvious why he stayed here. He knows we might be plotting. He needs to keep an eye on things.”

“I have already plotted,” you lowered your voice and went back to staring at the moon.

Feyd kept looking at you in silence for a while before he finally spoke up again.

“And what is that?”

“He shall be slayed by night alongside most of the guards and servants. We will say it was a nighttime assassination attack by Muad’Dib and his people. They targeted the Harkonnen nobility and you were too busy saving your pregnant wife to help your uncle,” you whispered.

“Everyone will know the truth, it's too obvious,” Feyd told you. “It's only giving us an alibi for those who want to believe in it.”

“Of course they will suspect what really happened but they will not care. You showed them your worth in the arena and you brought back the full efficiency of the spice production. The Harkonnen lords will give you a chance. I am sure they’ve already grown tired and weary of the Baron,” you kept convincing him.

“What if Muad’Dib suddenly decides to show up and deny?”

You sighed and looked at him again, furiously.

“Just admit that you don’t want him dead, because in some way I cannot understand… you love him,” you hissed at him.

“Love?” It was the first time you heard him use that word and it brought a chill down your spine. It sounded so off and scary when your husband said it out loud. “I don’t know what that pathetic feeling is,” he assured you.

“I can see that,” you raised an eyebrow at him and walked away to leave the balcony and go back to your bedroom.

You were hurt, angry and frustrated and it was starting to bring tears to your eyes but you didn’t want him to see that.

Your husband followed you to the bedroom. In the way his footsteps were even heavier than usual, you spotted his annoyance as well.

“What do you expect of me? You’re so impatient, woman,” he started once the doors closed behind him. “You want everything and you want it now. I said I’d do it, I swore I’d do it but you admitted yourself we have to wait longer. If he dies here at night, do you think the noble lords of Giedi Prime will accept that so easily?”

“Then slay the ones who refuse to accept you as the successor!” You turned around with the rage making your blood boil. “Slay everyone standing in our way, as you promised. Do you want our son to be born in a world that he is manipulating for his own gain? Do you want to be his dog following the orders for the next few years? I am tired of playing the games with him on his own chess board. I want to make my own game, my own rules, my own board!” You tried to keep your voice down in case someone would spy on you but it was difficult with all that anger pouring out of you.

In one swift move, Feyd grabbed your chin and squeezed your cheeks as he brought your face so close to his that your noses were rubbing each other. There was so much anger in his eyes that the old you would start trembling out of fear for her life but the new you didn’t even flinch.

“Keep your voice down, we will do it,” he spat out.

“No,” you mumbled. “You will do it. You’re the hand that slays,” you reminded him and he kissed you so hungrily that you became breathless.

“I still want to kill you sometimes,” he confessed between one kiss and another as he led you back to your bed and laid you down on the mattress. “Choke you, slit your pretty little throat, watch you squirm under me as you bleed to death.”

“Whatever turns you on, my darling,” you chuckled at him as he looked at you sternly.

“If I hurt you, I’d kill myself right after. I’m bound to you forever,” he confessed and you smiled gently.

You didn’t want to tease him that after all, he did know what love was. After all, he did feel it. But you knew that he’d hate being confronted with the truth.

“If something happened to you, I would want to die alongside you, too,” you told him. “You’re the only one I have and none of my ambitions matter without you by my side.”

It was true. You didn't want to rule alone. In fact, you didn't want to ever feel lonely in your life again.

You were sitting next to Paul and watching the sunset in silence. In your dreams you would always meet him in the desert. Nothing else seemed to exist on Arrakis in the dreamworld – except for you and him.

“Why do you haunt me?” You asked and laid your eyes on his angry face. He was always so angry these days.

You hated Paul from your dreams. He was different. There was no kindness and gentleness about him anymore. If you were supposed to be haunted by his ghost, you’d rather be haunted by the brother you had remembered instead.

“I am not here for you,” Paul snorted and you furrowed your brows. Then he looked down at your swollen womb and you instinctively protected it with your hands.

“What do you mean?” You gasped.

“The spawn inside you shares my blood on both sides,” he answered mysteriously, which confused you greatly but you decided not to give it a second thought. After all, it was just a dream. “No, it is not,” Paul smirked viciously at you, as if he was able to read your thoughts.

“Get up,” you heard Feyd’s rough voice as his hand shook your arm. You woke up abruptly and sat up, trying to calm yourself after the dream.

“What’s going on?” You asked and looked around the dark room.

“Come with me,” your husband looked very pleased with himself as he pulled you out of the bed.

“What are you–”

“Shh,” he put his finger over his mouth as he led you outside.

You gasped at the sight of the bodies scattered all over the corridor of the palace. Servants and guards with their throats slit, laying in poodles of their own blood.

“Have you done that?” You asked quietly and Feyd nodded. “My girls…” you gasped.

“I haven’t touched your pets,” he assured you and stopped in front of the doors leading to the Baron’s chambers.

“Have you killed him…?” You were both excited and terrified of the outcome if the answer was yes. But, most importantly, you were in shock.

“Not yet,” Feyd answered as he pushed the doors open in front of you.

Not sure what his words meant, you entered the chamber carefully and spotted the Baron on his bed, letting out loud and raspy breaths. His life support machinery was no longer attached to him; you assumed Feyd had decided to give him a slow death.

You looked at your husband and spotted a sadistic sparkle in his eye as he was visibly enjoying the sounds and the view. He put his arm around you and walked you closer to the Baron’s bed.

That old and sick man looked pathetic at that moment and for a short while you even felt sorry for him. His eyes widened even further at the sight of you as he raised one of his hands towards you but you took a step back.

You didn’t know what to expect of him on his deathbed. Some part of you craved for him to admit his defeat and name you a worthy successor of the Harkonnen throne. Some other part of you expected him to curse you and your whole bloodline, which would be quite justified.

However, you certainly did not expect the sheer desperation and debasement.

“P-please…” He could barely speak. “Please, help me,” he tried to reach out for you.

You didn’t feel sorry for him anymore. You felt disgusted.

“You’re a weakling,” you smirked at him. “You called my father weak but I am sure that he did not beg like a dog on his deathbed. I am sure he died with dignity.”

“Please, help me…” He coughed out. “Help me and I will make your son an Emperor…”

“I do not need you to make my son an Emperor,” you laughed with contempt. “I am to become The Baroness Harkonnen; commanding the largest army and possessing the biggest wealth in the galaxy.”

“F-Feyd, I was like a father to you…” He searched for his nephew’s cruel eyes now, giving up on asking for your compassion and pity. “My boy…”

“Like a father, you say,” Feyd drawled. “I couldn’t wait to kill you for so many years now.”

“Please…”

“Oh, shut him up, how long will it take for him to die?” You sighed with an eye-roll as Feyd nodded his head at you and grabbed the short knife attached to his hip.

“Farewell, dear uncle,” he smiled smugly as he slit the Baron’s throat.

You watched mesmerised, without even blinking. It felt like a dream more than reality.

“The Arrakeen Palace will be considered cursed for all the Barons and Dukes from now on,” you only said.

Without a word, Feyd dropped the blade and fell on his knees in front of you, pulling you close by your hips and burying his face in the fabric of your nightgown right where your womb was. You knew what he wanted. A praise, an approval, a blessing.

“My Baroness,” he breathed out.

“Stand tall, my Baron,” you caressed his head and he looked up. His eyes sparkled in the moonlight and you cupped his chin to caress his full lips with your thumb. “You’ve made me proud and happy, my darling,” you assured him. 

He nodded at you and collected the discarded blade from the floor. It was important not to leave any trace. You both went back to your chambers and laid down in bed, pretending to be asleep – too excited to actually be able to drift off. This time you didn’t feel guilty even a little bit like after the death of the harpies. This time it didn’t even feel like murder or taking another human being’s life. This time it felt like nothing but relief.

You watched the sunrise through the window with your head on your husband’s chest and his hand rubbing your back, waiting for the remaining servants’ screams to signal the beginning of the new era.

There were screams indeed. People were running, yelling, banging on your door. Both Feyd and you acted surprised and startled at the news but Astra and Cara had to be the only people in the palace who actually believed your story. The medic inspected the Baron’s body and started to wonder if it really had been Muad’Dib’s work since the cuts did not remind of the Fremen weapons. Feyd only hissed at him so the medic stopped any further insinuations.

Count Rabban’s behaviour surprised you the most as he was following his brother around and seeming to act like the most loyal and obedient subject. He had quickly realised it was the best chance of survival for him. He hadn’t questioned anything so far and simply followed every word leaving his younger brother’s mouth.

Everything was a mess and chaos on that day but it was mostly Feyd dealing with it, basking in his new title and glory, as you were sitting on your bed with terrified Astra and Cara, holding them both and assuring them of their safety.

“How can you not be worried, na-baroness? I mean, Baroness?” Astra widened her eyes. “If Muad’Dib was here last night… Oh, I don’t even want to imagine what would happen if he went inside your chambers instead…”

“My husband would defend me,” you kissed her forehead and then you kissed Cara’s.

“What if he comes back?” Cara was shaking out of fear and you felt bad for making them feel like this but you couldn’t tell them the truth. “Now, when they know that we have fewer guards around?”

“We will be prepared this time,” you squeezed their hands. “My girls, I am sorry for being insensitive but I shall get dressed in mourning attire now and finally join my husband to help him with the officialties.”

Every lady travelled with a mourning dress just in case. Yours was a combination of black silk and black armour pieces with chains, connected to the matching headpiece. It looked dignified and intimidating – exactly how you wanted it to look like. You had already dreamt of The Baron’s death while planning your trip. Therefore the mourning dress you had chosen was accurate to your new role of The Baroness.

It sounded so good. For the upcoming days you would get drunk on the way people would address you. And then, when you'd finally be back on Giedi Prime, there would be a lavish celebration and official event for you two becoming the new Baron and Baroness. You couldn't wait for that day.

You smiled to yourself in the mirror and fixed the headpiece for one last time as you adjusted the Atreides signet ring on your pinky finger. On your pointing finger there was a huge ring with the Harkonnen emblem. And hidden between the folds of your dress and attached to the armour piece on your hip was the blade your husband had given you on the day of his birthday. No one could see it but you could reach for it swiftly in the case of emergency.

You joined Feyd in the conference room and everyone straightened at the sight of you. They always would but this time it felt different. You were the one holding the power – and they respected you for you, not for the fact that you were under protection of The Baron.

“Baroness,” they bowed down and went back to work, avoiding your gaze.

“How are things going?” You approached Feyd as he looked you up and down with a smirk. You put your hand on his chest.

“I sent Rabban back on Giedi Prime with our uncle’s body,” he told you and held your hand to lay a kiss upon it. “He will take care of the affairs there until we finish our business on Arrakis. I want to take care of that Muad’Dib rat before returning home and finding someone worthy to replace me as the Governor here. Rabban will also send us more Harkonnen troops since we have lost many guards last night,” he informed you in an official manner.

“We must avenge our late Lord Baron,” you clenched your jaw as you nodded. His eyes sparkled with mockery as he pretended to look worried.

You were sure that most people in that room had known the truth but they kept their poker faces on and allowed you to play out this little scene.

“My Lord,” one of the engineers raised his voice, concerned. Feyd turned around and you both stared at the hologram of the Arrakis globe. Red dots started to appear on the orbit. “We have guests,” the engineer explained. “The ships are definitely not ours.”

“Who is it?” Feyd barked at him. “Find that out, we are not expecting anyone,” he looked at you, a little concerned.

You were not pleased with the idea of guests now, out of all times, either. 

“Who dares to interrupt our peace unannounced on the day after our late Lord Baron’s tragic death?” You asked out loud, playing your mourning role the best you could.

What a mockery it was that you had to be hiding all the grief after your actual family but had to display fake tears for the man you had hated with every fibre of your being.

“M-my Lord, my Lady…” the engineer turned around with his eyes widened, “it’s the Emperor himself… The whole imperial delegation.”

You and Feyd looked at each other.

“It took them days to get here. There is no way they are here because of last night’s incident,” Feyd pointed out. “Still, I do not understand. I have brought the spice production back to full efficiency. What could be the reason for his visit?”

You moved uncomfortably as your son kicked your rib. As if he too knew of the importance of this sudden imperial audience. It would be the first time you’d greet someone of such importance as The Harkonnen Baroness and it would be the first time you’d see the Emperor face to face. He had visited your father a few times on Caladan but children had not been allowed near their meetings.

“We have to greet him and find out,” you took a deep breath in, preparing yourself mentally for the first challenge in your new role.

You shot Feyd a glance and he nodded at you, reassuringly. With him by your side, it couldn’t go that bad, you tried to convince yourself. His presence was equipping you with courage and determination you had not known before.

Everything you were doing now, you were doing for the two of you and your future. Nothing else mattered.

MASTERLIST

[thevillainswhore]

You Look Good On Camera, Baby

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x F!Reader

Word Count: 2.8k

Summary: Bucky’s not letting you leave the photobooth, not until he’s had his way with you.

Warnings: Established relationship, teasing, kissing, smut, public sex, p in v, quickie, finger sucking, uses panties to keep reader quiet, creampie.

Author’s note: Unbeta’d, warning graphics by @rookthorne

Aaand all of a sudden we have another oneshot. Sigh. This one has actually been on my mind since these pictures were first released so a big thank you to Lana for finally giving me the push to make it happen 🤭 really enjoyed this one 🤍

“Here?!” you screeched. 

“Yeah.” Bucky shrugged, unfazed. “What’s wrong with that?” 

You choked on your own spit at his nonchalance, how carefree he was about this. “W—What do you mean what’s wrong with fucking here, Bucky? We’re in a damn photobooth!” 

The blank expression on his face was unchanging. “So?” 

The words on the tip of your tongue died out. Your boyfriend could be a little freaky in the bedroom sometimes and you were all for it. Never had you both risked the danger of public sex, however. 

“You’re out of your damn mind if you think we’re doing it in public,” you scoffed before beginning to make your way out of the stall.

But you were quickly stopped in your tracks as Bucky slammed his arm against the opposing wall, effectively blocking your path. “We’re not leaving until I’ve fucked you.” 

A shudder of arousal ran down your spine at the gruffness of his voice. “Baby,” you laughed nervously. “I know we like to experiment sometimes, but this is a little far, don’t you think?” 

The air between you was thick with tension, especially with a pair of bright blue eyes staring you down so intensely you imagined the burning embers of a fire raging behind them. 

You gulped as Bucky slowly licked his lips, giving you a once over that made you feel too exposed in an already revealing sundress. There was a short distance between you, and your boyfriend’s stature was towering and beefy, taking up a large presence — his imposing nature made the hairs on your arms stand up. 

He walked you backwards slowly, step by step, until you hit the far wall of the booth. Pressing his nose against the curve of your neck, he snarled. “All I know is that my cock is so fuckin’ hard for you right now and if I don’t have your pussy wrapped around it within the next thirty seconds, I’m gonna haul you over my shoulder and take you out there in front of the whole damn mall.” 

You thought you could tamp down the moan trapped in your throat, but you were sorely mistaken when it unleashed without remorse. Your chest heaved with exhilaration and your fingers twitched excitedly at the prospect of something so scandalous. 

“So what’s it gonna be, sweetheart? In this photo booth with a little privacy? Or out there where everyone can watch me ruin you? Your choice.”

You had not expected this outcome when you had dragged your boyfriend over to the booth. You wanted to take cute pictures and add them to your keepsake memory box. Now you were deciding your fate; whether you would be leaving your dignity in the tiny stall or chance getting arrested for public indecency in the middle of the shopping mall. 

Bucky raised an eyebrow, awaiting your answer. 

“In h—here,” you whispered in anticipation. 

The cheshire cat grin you received in return spiked your nerves even further. “Clever girl.” 

Without giving you a chance to backtrack on your decision, Bucky hoisted you up into his arms and smothered your squeal of shock with his lips. He wasted no time snaking his tongue into your mouth, fighting for dominance like always. 

“Mmph!” you moaned when he flicked his tongue against yours. A zing of electricity shot down to your pussy and you threaded your fingers through his long hair, pulling it tightly. 

Even after so many years, the spark between you and Bucky was still alive. Throughout the trysts of your sexual experiences together, the attraction to each other had only intensified. He was sexier now than ever before. And even if he came up with outlandish ideas that made you step out of your comfort zone, you held so much trust in him that it was easy to follow him to the depths of sin. 

A string of saliva connected between your lips as Bucky pulled away for air. While he was reckless for suggesting such a depraved idea of public sex, he was smart enough to realise the two of you were short on time to make it happen. 

“Hold on,” he warned before handling your weight over to one arm. With the other, he unzipped the fly of his trousers and shuffled them down just past his ass until his cock bounced out. 

You gasped at the sight. Bucky really was hard for you already, if the angry looking vein straining from his thick length was anything to go by. He was throbbing, you could see his dick viciously twitching with need and your thighs clenched around his waist with hunger. 

Your boyfriend squeezed your hip. “You like seeing me desperate for you, huh baby?” 

You tightened your lips to try and hide your smile and shrugged innocently. “Can’t say I mind it so much.” 

Bucky growled with a smirk. “You’re a fuckin’ tease, girl.” 

The amusement was quick to wipe from your face when he reached down and ripped the panties covering your mound. “Bucky!” you scolded. “Those were new!” 

He rolled his eyes playfully, trying not to laugh at the way the shredded material now hung from your ankle. “Oh, hush. I’ll buy you some more.” 

You huffed. “What? So you can rip them off me again?” 

Bucky chucked under your chin condescendingly. “Look at you, learning so fast.”

Smug bastard, you cursed internally. 

“Gonna stop complaining and let me fuck you now, doll?” 

You scowled and poked his chest with your finger. “You better watch the way you speak to me— OH!” The retort on your tongue cut off as Bucky sheathed the entirety of his length inside of your pussy in one smooth thrust. Your nails dug harshly into the firm muscle of his shoulders and you buried your head into his neck. “H—Holy shit.”

Bucky panted breathlessly, just as affected as you. Though he still had the gall to tease you. “You were saying?” 

You lifted your head to glare at him, still winded. “You’re damn lucky I love you.” And though you wanted to scold your boyfriend for his cheek, you couldn’t help but squirm on his cock. There was only so much you could take until it wasn't enough — you needed him to move. To feel the delicious scrape of his length against your tight walls. “Now shut up and fuck me before someone comes.” 

“You’re so hot when you boss me around,” Bucky moaned before kissing you with urgency. 

The nails of his fingers dug crescent shapes into your bare thighs, but the sting of pain was nothing compared to the slow drag of his cock leaving your cunt. You whimpered as his thick girth left you inch by inch until only the tip sat inside of you. 

“Gonna beg me for it, baby?” he asked. 

You blew out an impatient huff and tugged on his hair harshly until he groaned. “Give me your cock, if you know what’s good for you.” 

“Eh,” he shrugged. “Good enough.” 

A high pitched keen was forced out of you when Bucky thrusted his hips up, the full nine inches of his dick sat deep inside of your pussy. “Fuck!” 

“Should’ve begged like I asked and maybe I’d have gone a little easier on you, sweetheart,” he said tauntingly. 

“If you ever think that I would want it easy then you don’t know me at all,” you clapped back. 

Your boyfriend’s eyes shone with pride. “That’s my girl.”

Bucky fucked like it was the first time every time. His movements were careful and his hands were greedy; always touching you, always gathering you as close as possible to him. And while he was soft with his caresses, his desire to roughly pound his cock into your cunt, as deep as it humanely could, was another story. 

“God, you’re like a fuckin’ vice around my dick,” he choked out. “Would’a thought you’d have loosened up by now, baby. But I can still barely move.” 

Unable to speak without screaming, you sucked his neck, bruising his skin until it turned a dark purple. 

“You markin me, huh? Want everybody to know who I belong to?” 

You nodded your head while whimpering, the nails of your fingers scratching against Bucky’s scalp. 

The motion of his thrusts made his balls slap against your ass — he loved it when you got possessive. “Filthy fuckin’ girl. Don’t worry, doll. I’m all yours.”

Letting go of his neck with a pop, you loudly whined out, “So good— cock feels so good in me, baby. Fucking me just right.”

“Oh, I know. But you gotta turn down the volume, sweetheart,” he chuckled. “Save it for the bedroom, alright?” 

You tried, you really did. But the way the head of his cock repeatedly stroked against the sensitive spongy spot of your pussy made your inhibitions blurry and you couldn’t help moaning like a whore.

Bucky tutted and shook his head in mock disapproval. “Guess I have to do everything for you, hm?” His lips curled up in perverse satisfaction as he shoved three of his fingers into your mouth. 

You hummed around them instantly while staring into his eyes. He made you this way; a willing body for him to toy with, a woman who was quick to fall under his command and you lived for it. You gargled around his large fingers as you jolted each time he drove his cock into you, drool dripping down from your chin and landing on your boyfriend’s lower stomach and dick. 

“Can’t even let my fingers keep you quiet, huh? Just have to make sure everyone knows how good it feels to be fucked by me.” 

Your back slammed against the wall of the stall and the force of Bucky’s hips rocked the whole thing back and forth. His strength only turned you on more and even with the intrusion of his fingers, your noises grew louder, more unabashed. 

“Shit, you sound so pretty.” His eyes darted towards the swinging panties still attached to your ankle and he quickly removed his fingers to grab them. “Such a good girl for me, baby. But I think we need somethin’ a little more efficient to quiet my eager girl down.” 

Before you had the chance to whimper again, Bucky shoved your underwear into your mouth. To both of your luck, your moans became muffled enough to not draw attention. “Perfect.”

Though the volume of your sounds had been solved, the slick noises coming from your dripping cunt became the center of attention. 

“Are you that fuckin’ soaked for me, sweetheart?” Bucky’s eyes rolled back as his cock throbbed at the feel of you. Even though you were wet, your walls still hugged his shaft. 

“Mhm!” you mumbled over your makeshift gag. Your worries of being caught had long disappeared, your main focus now to revel in the building tension from your lower stomach creeping to the surface. 

The two of you were only concealed by a pathetic thin curtain that didn’t even close all the way. It left a large gap, one that should a member of the public managed to notice, would reveal Bucky’s bare ass and your scrunched up face, moaning in pleasure at the feel of his cock. 

Again, you were so far out of your realm to notice. Though Bucky did as he glanced over his shoulder and the high he got from the danger was addictive. 

Wrapping an arm around you tightly, Bucky discreetly reached into his jean pocket with his free hand while keeping up his momentum. He was so close to the edge, balancing on the precipice of cumming, but he strived to hold on just a little longer. 

Grabbing the loose change, he discreetly dispensed it into the money slot of the machine. “You think you’re gonna cum for me, doll?” he asked, short windedly while his thighs trembled. 

You whined desperately around your panties, your eyes glossy from the overwhelming thread that was beginning to unravel. 

“Alright. I’m gonna count down from three and you’re gonna give it to me, yeah? Can you do that for me?” 

Thumping your head back against the wall, you closed your eyes and nodded hastily. 

“Good. Ready, baby?” he asked. 

Your nails scratched the back of his neck in approval and he began. 

“Three.” He pistoned his hips, fucking you with all the energy he had left in him. 

“Two.” The deep dirty grind of cock into your cunt was torturing and your thighs shook as you fought to hold out. 

“One.” On his final count, Bucky pinched your clit, hard. Your eyes shot wide open at the same time multiple bright flashes blanketed the photobooth and your mouth dropped on a muted scream. 

“Holy— F—Fuck!” Your boyfriend’s shout echoed across the white walls while his fist slammed next to your head. A huge load of his cum shot up into your cunt, overflowing the already full hole. 

Your mind swam in ecstasy from the adrenaline filled haze of your orgasm. The pure rush of your sparking nerves was a familiar thing with Bucky and yet the sensation was so deeply gratifying every single time. 

You sucked in lungfuls of air on your comedown, letting your mouth hang open while your ruined panties dropped with a wet slap onto the floor. Shivers wracked through your body and before you could even notice the coldness, Bucky enveloped his warm body around you while he stroked your cheek. 

“That’s it,” he cooed soothingly while he recovered from his own intense orgasm. “Take it easy, sweetheart.” 

You wrapped your arms around his neck and brought him closer to you, until there was no space between you. “That was fun,” you slurred lazily.

Bucky’s tired laugh rumbled through you. “Damn fuckin’ right it was.” Lifting his head out of your neck, he kissed you delicately. “You alright?” 

“I’m great,” you told him truthfully. “Though you may have to help me walk because I can’t feel my legs anymore.” 

He grinned, satisfied. “I’m that good, huh?” 

You lightly smacked his chest, even if you couldn’t contain your own cheesy smile. “Nope. I’m not inflating your ego more than it already is.” Turning your head to the screen of the booth, your eyes widened upon what you saw. “No you did not.” 

“Oh, but I did.” Bucky said proudly. “A little souvenir of our sexual awakening.” 

“Oh my god.” The shock of it rendered you speechless. 

“I know, right? Now you have the photos you wanted.” 

You couldn’t help the giggle that escaped. Looking back at your boyfriend, you shook your head. “I wish I could tell you off.” 

“You can tell me I’m a bad boy later,” he suggested with a wink. “For now let's get outta here.” 

Once he gently placed you down, making sure you were steady on your feet, the two of you sorted yourselves; tidying the mess of your sex hair and straightening the wrinkles out of your clothes. Bucky made sure to pocket your panties from the floor, leaving no evidence of your fun. 

“Come on, you.” He lightly slapped your ass before ripping the curtain open. “We’ve still got some shopping to do.” He stepped out, whistling to himself like he hadn’t just fucked you senseless and held his hand out for you to take. 

“You want to go shopping while your cum is literally leaking down my legs as we speak?” you hissed as heat crept up your neck from the thought. 

Bucky leaned his shoulder against the booth and smirked. “Well, we do have to buy you some new underwear. Remember, doll?” 

You so desperately wanted to smack the self-satisfied grin off his face. “You wait until we get home, you little shit.” 

An excited gleam twinkled in his eyes. “Can’t fuckin’ wait, baby.” 

With a huff, you exited the photobooth, begrudgingly sliding your hand into Bucky’s. Before you left to continue your shopping, however, he plucked the Polaroids from the outside dispenser.

Your boyfriend admired the photos, each one a debauched image of you with heavy, hooded eyes with your mouth hung open on a scream. 

“You look good on camera, baby.” He wrapped his arm around your shoulder and leaned down to whisper in your ear. “We should make a film next.” 

Trying to clench your thighs together to keep his cum from dripping down your leg, you swatted his arm. “Pfft—you wish, big boy.” 

But Bucky smirked, a wickedness in his expression. “I’m sure I’ll be able to persuade you somehow.” 

Author’s Note: There may be huge potential for a part two 🫣

[xiaowhore]

hydro dragon, hydro dragon, don't cry!

premise. in which you manage to make neuvillette feel better at the expense of your dignity. (a fair trade, really.)

word count. 1.5k

note. do umbrellas exist at teyvat. i really don't know.

You've never taken Monsieur Neuvillette as the type to dramatically brood in the rain when he gets sad, but to be fair, you don't know much about him at all.

You clutch onto your umbrella, contemplating. So, uh... Are you supposed to approach him now? Shield him from the rain with your umbrella? That doesn't sound too bad, actually. But then what? Ask him if his pet fish died and now he's mourning his loss? That's hardly appropriate to say to the Chief of Justice... But it would be creepier to just stand there without saying anything, right?

You could leave and pretend you didn't see anything. Of course, that's an option too. It's possible he prefers to be left alone when he's unhappy.

But sulking while standing in the rain just gives “I want someone's attention” vibes, doesn't it?!

With a fit of reckless courage and a “fuck it” mindset, you advance your way forward to where he stands.

Regretting something as soon as you do it is on-brand for you, you realize as you soon come to learn you have to be on the tip of your toes to have the umbrella barely raising over his head instead of hanging from him. You must make a pathetic sight, attempting to shield both yourself and this hulking tower of a man from the rain with a tiny umbrella.

“...What are you doing?” Neuvillette turns around, taken aback when you're in much closer proximity than he expected. Panic flares in his eyes, and like the gentleman that he is, he steps back to create some distance. His head presses against the edge of the umbrella.

“Hey, you shouldn't move away!” You follow his movements, closing the gap. His head is now safely within the umbrella's reach, but you're an inch away from being pressed up against his chest. “I miscalculated. This thing's too small for us.”

When the initial shock wears off, his shoulders slump, a sign of him lowering his guard. “If you know that much, you should use it for yourself and go home.”

That doesn't sound like a bad idea. Appealing, even. You've never felt so silly in your entire life and the option to run away is looking more enticing with each second that ticks by.

Still.

“It's dangerous to walk alone at this hour. Won't you accompany me, sir?”

...Not the best excuse you could've come up with, but your mouth runs faster than your brain. Neuvillette, being the considerate person he is, actually takes some time to think about it, and you hurry to say, “If you leave me alone now, you could have another disappearance case in your hands tomorrow. Would you really like more work on your desk rather than some company tonight?”

He gives you a long, suffering stare that looks suspiciously like the one he gives to Lady Furina when she disappoints him, but he doesn't say no. His hand wraps around the umbrella handle, overlapping with your fingers. It takes another two seconds of that stare before you get the message and you let go, finally able to rest the balls of your feet on the ground as you stand on normal footing.

“I hope you don't make a hobby of coercion,” he hums as you walk together, your shoulders brushing every so often. “Or else I'd see you as a criminal suspect tomorrow instead of a victim.”

“I see that jokes aren't your strong suit, Monsieur Neuvillette.” You laugh awkwardly, your nervousness spiking to an all-time high throughout your entire interaction with him. It's been barely ten minutes.

Silence ensues.

“Do you like showers, sir?”

You should've just kept your mouth shut, damn it.

“I like them the same amount as the average person, I suppose.” The ridiculous question doesn't phase him, and you don't know how he's able to keep a straight face while saying that.

You decide to push your luck. “...Do you prefer bathing with cold or hot water?”

Finally, you draw out a light chuckle from him, the sound deep and pleased. It almost makes playing the fool worth it. “I've been told I'm not the best with small talk, but you seem to be worse than I am.”

Your head snaps up to look at him, affronted. “It wasn't a bad question!”

“Certainly not as bad as talking about the weather. Do you want me to praise you?”

Was the Chief Justice always this sassy? “You're making fun of me,” you point out the obvious, turning away and crossing your arms. “I asked about showers because you were standing in the rain.”

“You thought I liked showers because I was in the rain?”

“Well, I didn't know for sure. That's why I asked.” Even you can tell you're sounding more and more ridiculous by the minute. Was your house always this far? You can't wait to dive to your bed and pretend this encounter never happened. “I think I'll just shut up now.”

“Really, now?”

“Every time I open my mouth around you, I embarrass myself further. I think it's for the best.”

You hear another chuckle as heat crawls up to your cheeks, spreading to your ears. “For what it's worth, you did put me out of my terrible mood. You're quite funny.”

“That's a nice way to say you think I'm being strange.” You hide your face with your hands, peeking at Neuvillette's expression between your fingers. Bathed in the silvery moonlight, he looks straight out of a painting, even with wet hair and drenched clothes.

You've never seen him up close, never even dreamed of standing next to him. Now, you're exchanging jabs at each other like it's the most normal thing in the world, like you weren't just thinking he was someone out of reach when you watched his court trial in amazement. Now, he's so close that you can almost feel the heat from his body, so much more tangible than just a figure you admired from afar.

“But I do have your strangeness to thank,” he admits, looking off into the distance. The stars shine bright in his eyes. “Had it not been for you squeezing me under your umbrella and forcing me to walk you home, I'd surely still be under the rain.”

“...Couldn't you have phrased that better?”

“In court, I only state facts.”

You laugh dryly. “You could spare me some dignity by embellishing the story a bit... Oh, we're here.” You were so occupied defending yourself from his witty comments that you didn't realize you had already arrived home until your door was right at your face. You glance at Neuvillette, who then nods towards the door. If he's disappointed to have the stroll cut short, he doesn't show it.

“Go in. It is rather late.” He closes the umbrella and offers it back to you, a gentle smile on his face. The sight is almost like a reward for your efforts; the small upturn of the corners of his lips makes all the difference, his sharp, cold gaze softening into something more affectionate. The rainbow after the storm. The gratitude for a small kindness.

“You have to get home, too,” you utter, pushing it back to him.

“The rain stopped a few minutes ago,” he insists, gesturing behind him. You blink owlishly, observing the still pools of rainwater. You didn't even notice. Why didn't he say so? You didn't have to squeeze together under such a tiny umbrella, then.

“You should still keep it.”

He raises an eyebrow, inquisitive. “Why?”

You unlock your door, stepping inside, but still not closing it shut. “Well, it gives you an incentive to see me again.” You grin at him mischievously, like you thought of a genius plan. “I work at the cafe in the main street. I'm sure we have some tea that will strike your fancy. Make sure you're not moping next time we meet, yeah?”

Not for the first time, he seems taken aback. But his gaze softens once more, his expression molding into something pleased. “Very well.”

And so, he leaves with a small umbrella in his hand, a smile on his lips, and the clear skies over his head.

The next time you see Neuvillette, the sun is high in the sky. Compared to that night, you can see him a little better now.

That's how you notice he looks unusually shy with a bouquet of flowers in his arms and a pink blush high on his cheeks. “...Good afternoon,” he starts, his lips curving to a beginning of a smile. “The weather is great today, isn't it?”

You stare. You stare some more. And when the sight finally processes in your mind, your twinkling laughter rings in the air, as sweet as the aroma of freshly baked muffins. “And who stooped so low to talk about the weather this time, huh?”

Neuvillette can't even pretend to feel bad about it, not when you're jumping off the seat in the counter to show him a table for two. “Your silliness is infectious, it seems.”

“Hey!”

(You've never taken Monsieur Neuvillette as the type to be smart-mouthed, the type to be indulgent to your whims, the type to be romantic towards the person he's interested in—

But now you have all the time in the world to get to know him better.)

[pensarecool2]

My parents treat their pets like they treat their kids.

My father wouldn't let his dog outside and would beat it whenever he found that she shit inside.

My mother will lecture her dog and then hit the dog when she doesn't completely obey you or understand long and complex lectures. The dog in question is extremely affectionate, while my mother hates petting animals, and will get upset with the dog for moving around or making noises requesting attention.

[sntoot]

im having a great time in shb actually. emet selch just stares at you and leaves his arm out like he wants someone to hold his hand, and i think thats hilarious and gay of him