#paul in a dressing gown for you this morning

[silverfoxstole]

Paul as Jeremy Frost in Tripping Over, Episode Two ( x )

[cauliflowercounty]

Knives Dance (Part III)

Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x fem!Reader

Summary: It was hard to have a prose summary so here are some bullets of what’s happening in part 3

Baron Feyd missing you + heartfelt reunion 

Feyd being totally infatuated with you

SCIENCE!!! and POLITICS!!!

Rabban being pitiful

Reader being a badass

Feyd vs Paul on Arrakis (what will happen? You’ll never knowww… [unless you read this chapter **wink, wink, wink**]

Warnings: Violence, blood, death (woohoo)

Word Count: 10.3k (whoops… I went typey-type)

A/N: I wanted to say a sincere thanks to everyone who's read Knives Dance up to this point. This series is some of the most fun I've had writing in a long, long time. Sending lots of love your way :)

Part I | Part II | Part III

--

Stirring gently in his bed, Feyd recoils slightly as the light from Giedi Prime’s black sun hits his eye line through the wall of windows that separate his bedroom from the private balcony that overlooks the cityscape.  He extends his arm to your side of the bed and runs his hand languidly across the surface, feeling the cool, silky sheets under his fingertips. His heart feels heavy in his chest, and he lets out a low growl of frustration into his pillow. It has been a long three weeks without you.  

You’ve been off-world on a visit to Youra to see your father and bring back equipment for the laboratory you’re constructing on Giedi Prime. He knows that he doesn’t have to worry about your safety because he insisted on a full Harkonnen security detail accompanying you, which should have put his mind at ease, but he’s laid awake each night since your departure, staring at the ceiling and trying not to think of disasters befalling you during your travels. One night it’s asteroids colliding with your ship, tearing gaping holes in the walls, and sucking you into the vacuum of space. Another, it’s an ambush by an undiscovered society, hellbent on killing alien peoples for sport. Perhaps a novel virus wiping out the entire population of Youra and you with it in a matter of days?  No farfetched scenarios were off limits when Feyd allowed his mind to wander.

The foreign feeling of loss due to your absence has not only plagued him with anxiety, but allowed Feyd to slip into a state of abject melancholia. None of his old vices have come close to fulfilling him, let alone make him feel much of anything.  Watching his servants cower in fear or making foreign ambassadors quake in their seats wasn’t giving him the same gratification as it once had.  Even hearing the roar of the crowds in the arena didn't given him any satisfaction. Everything had felt unbearably pedestrian. The only thing that brought a smile to his face was the thought of having the other half of his bed full again and listening to your tranquil voice. With every passing moment, he’s yearned for the life you had built together on Giedi Prime to resume.

Your mornings together were simple and easy. They were a time when he could always experience a drop of serenity within the political quagmire he’d gotten himself into since assuming the title of Baron. He’d wake up with you already in his embrace, your head laid delicately on his chest. He'd listen to your soft breathing and savor the way your limbs would entangle with his. The image of you blinking your eyes open to look at him with the special glimmer of affection reserved just for him never failed to make his heart flutter. 

Overtime, Feyd noticed you had been taking very well to Harkonnen dresses, which you now wore more often than not. He had the best seamstresses on Giedi Prime make and tailor custom outfits for you, though he didn’t expect you to always wear them, knowing how important your heritage was for you.  Nevertheless, you continued to grab one of the black gowns from your shared closet for your daily tasks and tell him with a smile “I’m Baroness Harkonnen now.  Shouldn’t I dress the part?”

Before leaving your quarters each day, Feyd always took the opportunity to take your hand in his and bring you in front of the floor length mirror in your shared closet. With his hands around your waist, he would pepper gentle kisses from your cheeks down your neck, whispering in your ear “you are a vision today, my Baroness.” You'd always smile and blush bashfully in return, returning his kisses in kind. Moments like those when it was just the two of you had become one of his favorite parts of the day.

You made the meetings, filled with diplomats groveling to win his favor, bearable. How he loved to watch you as you sat on the grand Harkonnen throne beside him. You never failed to command the room with your head held high. Power and dignity seemed to drip off of your being and fill every room you entered. You were truly worthy of the title of Baroness, and with every passing day and every interaction, there was more and more for Feyd to admire about you.

In private, you took to training together, where he would bask in your shared might. With every blow he endured from you, all he could think about was that he, Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen, was the only person alive to witness you so animated with ferocity and passion from battle, as all others who have seen you this way have been slain and buried. Sparring sessions between the two of you almost always ended with you both on the floor, limbs entwined and chests heaving after one of you would get the best of the other and take the opportunity to pin the other to the floor. 

At the end of the day, you'd always assume your position on the balcony in a flowy, white nightgown. With a gentle gesture, you’d beckon him to accompany you while you observe your shared domain, watching the shuttles flying through the gaps in the dark architecture and the stark white floodlights passing over the cityscape.  He’d hold you close by your waist and whisper sweet nothings into your ear until you start to shiver from the evening chill, at which point he’d tug at your waist to take you back to the bedroom to retire for the night. Every day, Feyd was falling deeper and deeper into you, and he’s loved every moment. 

Bringing himself upright, Feyd stretches his arms and stands up, walking over to the closet. Across from his sets of Harkonnen formalwear and battle gear, your gowns are neatly hung. Half of them are the sleek, black Harkonnen designs he had made for you. The other half are gorgeously vibrant Youran gowns. He sighs, imagining sharing one of your moments again in front of the mirror like always, but alas, you are not beside him. Once he’s dressed, he emerges from his quarters and is met with a nameless servant.

“Good morning, Baron,” the servant says, bowing deeply and trying not to give Feyd an excuse to kill him. “I am here to inform you that we have received a signal from the Baroness’s craft.  Her arrival is imminent.”

Hearing those words, Feyd turns on his heel toward the landing docks, dismissing the servant who heaves a sigh of relief because his head is thankfully still connected to the rest of his body. As Feyd walks the halls, his pace quickens, feeling the anticipation rise in his chest. People bow and salute him in the hallways, but he doesn’t pay them any attention. He’s too preoccupied with his thoughts of you; he can already smell the aroma of rainforest flowers you carry around with you. The thought that he’s so close to having you near again nearly drives him mad. 

When he arrives at the landing docks, the fleet of Harkonnen vessels is already touching down. As he hears the machinery’s loud whirring die, the ramps of all the crafts to meet the floor. Lines of Harkonnen soldiers file out first, each soldier with weapons in arms. The steady pulse of their synchronized footsteps echoes through the space with perfect adherence to Harkonnen military standards is satisfactory for Feyd. The commander in front barks orders, and the guards immediately step into formation, making an aisle that extends between Feyd and the craft closest to him. 

He is at a loss for words when he sees you walk down the ramp. You are undeniably gorgeous in Harkonnen clothes, but you look positively ethereal in the Youran gown and golden headdress that adorn your body today. Instead of shrouding yourself in the cloak you’ve worn in the past to hide your weaponry, you’re wearing a traditional dress reserved only for Youra’s utmost nobility. Layers of sheer, olive and cerulean fabric flare behind you to create your dress’s skirt out from under a ribbed bronze and mahogany corset.  Seeing how it’s cinched your waist and accented your silhouette, all Feyd wants to do is hold you and drag his fingers up and down the length of your figure.

Through the abundance of delicate golden chains that are symmetrically draped over your exposed shoulders and chest, Feyd can see how the corset and the off the shoulder neckline cradles your breasts in a way that makes him feel lightheaded. The entire skirt of the dress is decorated in dazzling embellishments and the characteristic Youran golden thread that Feyd has come to love on you. The fabric of the train seems to flow like water behind you as you walk.  

The high front hemline of the gown that ends at your upper thighs gives Feyd a good look at your legs, the lengths of which are delicately wrapped in the thin, tan ribbons from your sandals. The crosshatched pattern of the ribbons allows him to see just how beautifully your legs are sculpted from years of training and exploration. The sight makes his mouth water. He is truly breathless gazing upon you, his Baroness.

You return his affectionate gaze and call his name excitedly, reaching down and bunching up your skirt in your grasp before breaking into a run between the lines of Harkonnen guards. Your footsteps are the only noise reverberating throughout the area. Before he even realizes it, Feyd’s running for you, too. As you approach each other, he extends his arms out to you, and you leap into them, wrapping your legs around his waist. As he lifts you up into his arms, he spins you both around as you nuzzle yourself deeper into his hold.

Your grips on each other are desperate. Without a moment to waste, he cups your cheek with one hand as the other holds you tightly by the small of your back. A tear threatens to fall from his eyes as he considers saying that he hopes that you’ve missed him, but the look in your eyes already tells him the answer. This is truly happiness like he’s never experienced before. It washes over him when you finally bring your lips to meet his. His breath is warm against yours as he exhales into the kiss in satisfaction. He feels your hands come up to clutch the back of his head to deepen your kiss and growls hungrily, quickly losing himself in your embrace while attempting to resist the urge to devour you on the spot. His brow furrows when you finally break for air.

“Hello, my love,” you whisper softly, pressing your forehead against his, as if what you’re saying is a secret meant for only his ears. He grins at the pet name you’ve picked for him.  “How have things been at home?” Your words make Feyd pause. Were you calling Giedi Prime “home?” 

“Everything has been adequate,” Feyd says, kissing you again. “But I do prefer it when my Baroness is beside me.”

“I guess you’re in luck then,” you smile at his words. You rest your hands on his chest, feeling his prominent pectoral muscles underneath his shirt which makes him sigh in satisfaction. You swiftly squash the temptation to kiss him again as you meet his gaze because if you do, you’d never want to stop. Feyd sets you down, even though he’d gladly carry you all day wherever you want. 

“My father sends his regards. He’s very pleased with House Harkonnen. He also sends his condolences at your uncle’s passing,” you say, which makes Feyd scoff silently to himself. “I’ve also gathered all I need for the laboratory.  I hope I didn’t bring too much back with me. I hope it’s not a burden…” you trail off.

“You could never be a burden. We have plenty of servants. They can handle the labor,” Feyd assures as he turns to one of the closest guards. “Start unloading the Baroness’s things. You know where to take them. Don’t you dare damage any of it. There will be repercussions if anything is found broken.”

“Yes, My Lord,” the guard responds before beginning to bark orders to the others. One by one, the guards disappear into the vessel, and emerge moments later, carrying large wooden crates by the bronze colored handles attached to the sides of each. They all file out and disappear into the fortress, headed for your lab. 

“So,” Feyd says, turning back to you. “Home is Giedi Prime now? I wouldn’t have expected you to call anywhere but Youra home. It’s not that I’m unsatisfied that you’ve found comfort on Giedi Prime, but I was surprised to hear you say those words.”

You smile and glance down at the ground before looking back to him, responding. “Younger me would have agreed with you. Youra is my first home and will forever be such. However, my feelings have changed. Home is wherever you are,” you explain, intertwining your fingers with his. At your words, Feyd pulls you in again by the waist for another quick kiss, and he wonders what he did to deserve a wife like you as you both turn to follow your belongings. 

Weeks ago, you and Feyd had set aside the largest of Baron Vladimir’s personal recreation spaces to be converted to a laboratory for you on Giedi Prime. You both had celebrated the initiation of the transformation by gathering all the Baron’s belongings and smashing them to smithereens, which was quite cathartic for the both of you. In particular, you loved bashing Vladimir’s pipe and ripping his bathtubs apart piece by piece. The day of eradicating every trace of Vladimir, except for his portrait in the hallway, culminated in you both basking in the warmth of a glorious bonfire, fed by what remained of the Baron’s belongings. 

You both arrive at your laboratory. The Harkonnen workers have been very efficient installing the necessary infrastructure in the time you have been away. The room that was stripped to the bones the day you left for Youra is now a proper lab, outfitted with fireproof surfaces, chemical hoods, gas lines, and plenty of storage cabinets.  

“Wow, Feyd,” you say. “This is amazing. I can’t believe this got done in the time I was gone.”

“Only the best for you, my love,” he replies as more servants arrive, and you begin to instruct them how to unpack your belongings. Feyd stands back on the sidelines and watches you, seeing the sparkle in your eyes now that you’re able to bring part of your life from Youra to Giedi Prime. Many of the instruments and objects he sees being unpacked are unfamiliar to him, but you seem unphased, perhaps even comforted, by the diversity of items. He marvels at your proficiency with handling all of them. With the help of the servants, you quickly have all the crates unloaded and the items put away and organized. You dismiss all the workers promptly, so you and Feyd can be alone. Once the doors are closed, you let out a sigh of relief.

“Is the space to your liking?” Feyd asks, coming to your side and slipping his arm firmly around your waist.

“It’s perfect,” you reply, looking around with elation in your eyes. You reach into a drawer in front of you and take out a jar. Inside, he sees it’s full of the iridescent indigo scales of the fish you had shown him the night you were attacked on Youra. “I wanted to wait until I got back to Giedi Prime to do the extraction on the scales for your batch of the elixir. …Would you like to stay while it happens?” 

Feyd nods without hesitation. He knows that watching you work is something only the people closest to you ever get to see. “Of course, my love.  It would be my pleasure,” he says. You smile at him, delighted at his interest. You point to a little door in the corner and tell him to wait for you before disappearing into it. A few minutes later, you emerge having shed your gown and jewels for a tan lab coat. When you smooth your hands over the new coat, Feyd thinks to himself how put together you look. You seem even more at ease now that you’ve changed. In your arms, he sees another coat and two pairs of safety glasses. 

“To protect your clothes and eyes,” you say, walking over and handing him the other coat and one of the pairs of glasses.  Inside the coat, he sees “Baron Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen” delicately stitched in with golden lettering.  As he puts it on, he realizes it’s been tailored to his measurements perfectly at your behest. His heart swells once again. Your foresight is obvious to him. Beside him, you take out a mortar and pestle and pour a few of the scales into the mortar. He hears the scales clatter like pebbles against one another as they fall. 

Over your shoulder, Feyd can finally get a closer look at the scales from the fish you had shown him. The scales are shaped like rounded trapezoids and glimmer even in the artificial indoor lighting. Through the striking coloration, he can see delicate silver ribs that flare out from the narrower end of the scales, making each scale look like a pocket of moonlight rays shining through an inky night sky.  Feyd thinks how it’s truly a wonder how nature produced such a creature that bears such beauty.

You grasp the pestle in your hand and start striking the scales with firm, downward motions. Upon impact, the scales fracture at the ribs. Little by little, the scales become smaller, and you change your technique, beginning to roll the pestle around the bottom and up the sides of the mortar. You reverse the direction of the circle every few times. Because of your expert hand, the scales are soon reduced to a fine powder in the bottom of the mortar.  The dust glistens beautifully as you pick up the mortar and tip it around in a rolling motion, observing the results of your grinding.

“It’s time to perform the extraction and then the purification. Hopefully the crystals will be well formed,” you say to him, taking the mortar over to the fume hood behind the two of you and flipping the on switch to the hood.  “Have you ever watched any of your scientists work before?”

Feyd shakes his head as he follows you, memories of his childhood passing through his mind. “My uncle always instructed me to remain in the arena and the training grounds growing up. The laboratories on Giedi Prime were never our places to be. Our scientists would always come and report to us rather than us going to them. It has always been that way. Everyone in House Harkonnen works for the Baron. Everything they do is in service to him. It is inappropriate by our standards for him to go to them.”

You nod at his words, reaching for the glass sash that separates you and Feyd from the compartment of the fume hood. “Unsurprisingly, it’s the opposite on Youra,” you say, putting the mortar with the powdered scales inside before lowering the sash again until it’s almost closed, leaving gap a couple inches tall for continued access. “Yes, all workers serve my father and me, but we are all colleagues, in a way. They are the workers and my father is the hub for all of the departments on Youra. Much of my father’s success is tied to them, so he would often visit our workers to acknowledge their efforts and dedication. He always wanted to see their work for himself, too. He’s always been the curious type. My father had me follow him to the laboratories as soon as I was old enough to understand safety protocol. I’m sure if it wasn’t for regulations, he’d have brought me into the labs in a baby sling.”

The image of young you in a laboratory, holding your father’s hand as Youran chemists show you both what they’re working on comes into Feyd’s mind.  Even though he didn’t know of you when you were children, he can imagine you then, much shorter with a rounder face but with the same bright eyes brimming with curiosity.  The idea makes his heart warm and a smile tugs at his lips.

“I’m sure those laboratory visits were most influential for you,” Feyd says. You nod in return as you put on a pair of gloves and reach under the sash to grab an amber bottle containing a clear liquid from the side of the hood.  

“Absolutely,” you reply as you transfer all the powdered scales into a glass Erlenmeyer flask and add enough of the liquid to cover the solids. You move the flask onto a raised plate in the hood and press a few buttons to begin the heating process.  “I loved watching them do their work. They knew so much about our world, but were still determined to know more.  The way they moved in the lab was like a dance. I desperately wanted to be a part of that, so I began working with them when I was fourteen…”

As Feyd listens to you talk about your past as you work, his admiration of you grows. Your determination and tenacity through failed experiments and stalled projects are astounding to him, and the fact you’ve been able to become a swordswoman on the side this is truly a marvel. Your skill and years of training are evident today, as your body seems to know this process by memory. This in front of him is the product of all those years of effort.

The liquid in the vessel begins to bubble gently. As the moments go by, the liquid takes on the iridescent nature of the scales and becomes a vibrant blue. Removing it from the heat, you strain the liquid through fine mesh into another container, removing all the powdered scales from the mixture.  Looking at the collected solids, Feyd can see the scales have lost their original coloration and turned a chalky off-white. You smile to yourself, knowing that the extraction was effective while you prepare a large volume of a different liquid, also clear and colorless, in a large beaker. 

“Are you ready for the recrystallization?” you ask him, grabbing a syringe and drawing up some of the extract into the barrel. You return to the beaker of liquid and gently tip it sideways with one hand while pointing the tip of the needle at the side of the beaker. Carefully, you begin to squeeze the syringe and the indigo liquid begins to drip out the needle’s tip and trickle down the side of the beaker. As the extract hits the surface of the clear liquid, deep purple crystals seem to flutter out from the point of impact into the liquid instantaneously. Feyds lips part in amazement, unable to tear his gaze away from the process

“How does it work?” he asks, watching as a batch of thin, needle-like crystals start to gather at the bottom of the beaker while the bulk liquid remains colorless. It’s as if all the color of the extract has been contained within the crystals. 

“I use the first liquid to remove the compound from the scales and make a concentrated extract. I then add the extract to a bulk solvent which our compound of interest is insoluble in. The compound forms crystals when the liquids meet because the second liquid is in great excess compared to the first,” you explain, drawing up more extract and adding it to the beaker in the same way. Once you’re out of extract, you squat down to bring your eye level to that of the beaker. “It’s perfect. I don’t think the crystallization has ever gone that well.” 

You’re absolutely beaming as you swirl the crystals suspended in the liquid, admiring how they twinkle in the light. He can’t deny that your excitement is contagious. You collect the crystals by filtering the mix through another filter and spread out the crystals on a metal sheet to allow them to dry before removing your safety glasses, and Feyd follows suit.

“This is the compound I was referring to that night at the Pools of Ashora,” you say to Feyd.  “If we dissolve the crystals in water and drink it, it allows people to retain their body’s water content and reduced the frequency at which people needed to drink water.”

“Fascinating…,” Feyd trails off, staring at the delicate crystals scattered across the surface inside the fume hood. 

“When I was on Youra, I tested the elixir myself,” you say. Hearing you say that you’ve done that, a bolt of fear goes to his heart at the thought of you just drinking a novel chemical. Feyd’s eyes quickly lock onto you, and his neck stiffens. His mind swirls with distress at the possibility of you getting hurt. You may look okay now, but was the elixir difficult for you to stomach? Did it hurt you in the moment?

Looking at him, you’re immediately in tune with his reaction, and you lift your hand up to rest on his arm to calm his nerves. At your touch, he immediately relaxes. “Don’t worry, Feyd. I am alright. There’s nothing to be worried about. We’ve done plenty of trials since I first introduced this fish to you. I assure you it’s safe. I’ve had all of my best scientists on this project, and I had the best doctors in Youra monitor my vitals for two days after the fact.” Feyd nods, knowing if anyone is competent enough to keep you safe, it's yourself and the Youran doctors and researchers. “We still don’t know the exact mechanism of the compound in the body, but we do know there aren’t significant negative side effects on people. Do you trust me?”

“Of course,” Feyd replies, taking the opportunity to bring his hand to your waist and pull you close enough that your lips are almost touching and you’re both staring into each other’s eyes.  “I will always put my faith in you and your work.”

“I’m glad to hear,” you reply, your breath fanning out across his face, which sends shivers down his spine.  “That means a lot, Feyd, we’ve been working hard the last few weeks for this.” Grinning at you, he takes your chin between his thumb and forefinger and tips your head up toward his, catching your lips in his.  You quickly take off your gloves and hold his cheeks in your palms, savoring the intimate moment. 

A knock at the door sounds through the room. Feyd grumbles in annoyance as the tension between you releases. You and Feyd look at each other before ending your embrace. You call out “Enter!” in the direction of the doors. A military advisor enters the lab in full uniform with his head low. He immediately drops to his knees in front of both of you to show his respect.

“Baron, Baroness,” he says. “I am deeply sorry for interrupting you both, but I bring critical news from Arrakis.”

“Very well,” Feyd says, straightening up and peering down at the man kneeling before him. “Out with it.”

“There has been an attack by the Fremen. They destroyed eighty percent of the most recent spice crop.” You can tell by the way the man shivers that he is afraid. Nobody ever wanted to be the one to break bad news to Feyd-Rautha. “Count Rabban attempted a counterattack.”

“‘Attempted?’ What happened?” Feyd growls, his eyes flashing in dissatisfaction. You catch Feyd’s hand in your palm as it flies in the direction of the knife he keeps on his person. You shake your head. You tell him there is no use in killing this man because it would be a waste with just a look.  

“Y-Yes, my Lord,” the man says, a bead of sweat dripping down his temple. You can hear him beginning to hyperventilate despite his best attempts to steady his breath. “Rabban went after the Fremen, but the dust and debris from Rabban’s initial artillery attack made the visibility so poor on the battlefield that only Count Rabban and a few others survived. They were ambushed in the haze; it was a massacre with a casualty rate of seventy two percent and climbing.”

“Over half?!” you gasp, your own fists beginning to clench at Rabban’s blunder.

“Rabban says he saw the Fremen prophet, Muad'dib, on the battlefield before he fled. The Fremen… they are dedicated to him. They kill for him, Baron. Our spice operation is in jeopardy. We await your command.” 

Feyd stiffens, a vein threatening to pop on his temple. He sucks in air through his teeth, infuriated at Rabban’s continued incompetency. The advisor recoils at the noise, shuffling backward toward the door.

“You are dismissed,” you call to him with a huff.  A wave of relief washes over the man as he bows and thanks you before slipping out the door.

“Rabban is a damned fool!” Feyd shouts once you’re alone. “He has had every chance to rectify his mistakes on Arrakis, but he seems to leave his brain behind when he makes decisions and lets this Muad'dib win every time! And now I hear news of abandoning the battlefield at the sight of this prophet? He is a coward! An absolute imbecile! If something doesn’t change soon, the Emperor will take Arrakis from us!” 

You reach your arm out and rest it on his shoulder. In moments, you’ve quelled Feyd’s initial outburst until he’s only seething with fury instead of being on the verge of trashing the entire lab. “I think it’s time to relieve my brother of his duties,” Feyd says after he takes a deep breath. “We shall go to Arrakis to do it. I want to see the look on his face and the hope drain from his eyes when he knows he’s failed. I will take over the operation on Arrakis.  We will do what my brother was incapable of.”

“In that case…,” you say, preparing two glasses of water, adding a pinch of the crystals to each.  The water immediately turns a luminous indigo, and you hand Feyd one of the glasses, which he gladly takes.  You raise your glass in the air. “To victory and to House Harkonnen.”

“To victory and House Harkonnen,” he replies, connecting the rims of your glasses and drinking the entire glass in one go.  The elixir is salty and rich on his tongue as if he’s drinking the essence of the tropical ocean. As the elixir flows into him, he feels a warmth pulsate throughout his body.  He isn’t sure if this is truly the effects of the elixir or just a placebo, but Feyd feels powerful, like he could slaughter a thousand men and still have a hunger for more.  As he meets your gaze, you give him a knowing look. You feel the energy, too. You both shed your laboratory coats and leave the room to prepare for your journey to Arrakis. 

--

The preparations before and journey to Arrakis went without a hitch. You had opted to choose Harkonnen battle gear over your own, but you and Feyd still agreed on concealing your knives under a black Harkonnen dress cloak, still not eager to let anyone know of your true nature. Arriving in Arrakeen, you notice the striking architecture, made up of geometric slabs of tan stone layered to create a fortress to protect its inhabitants.  This time on Arrakis, Feyd doesn’t feel the heat like he used to. It’s as if his body is fighting back against the harsh environment on the desert planet. You feel it, too. You were initially concerned because you had only tested the elixir during the dry months on Youra, which paled in hostility in comparison to Arrakis, but seems the elixir’s protection is more than sufficient.

You and Feyd walk the halls of the fortress side by side, heading to the room where all of the Harkonnen strategists and military officials are. You see them gathered around a digital map projected by a computer in the middle of the room, which shows the locations of all the Harkonnen forces in the north of Arrakis.  Upon seeing their Baron and Baroness side by side, they all freeze and bow.

“Welcome to Arrakis, Baron, Baroness” one of them says. He opens his mouth to continue but Fed cuts him off. 

“Enough,” Feyd hisses at him. “I have orders for you. You are no longer to follow the word of Count Rabban. As of today, he is relieved of his duty as Planetary Governor of Arrakis. You will report directly to and receive orders only from me and your Baroness.”

The room of men immediately shout “Yes, My Lord!” in response. A smirk forms on Feyd's lips at their responsiveness, and he instructs them to hit the Fremen with old-fashioned artillery. As the orders are executed by the Harkonnen military, you watch the map intently as the targets on the map turn green, indicating the Fremen bases are hit successfully. All of the military advisors’ eyes widen in surprise at the genius of Feyd’s strategy as the reports of complete annihilation from the ground forces roll in. 

They all begin to applaud Feyd and as their chants fill the room, your heart fills with pride.  Feyd has finally proved beyond a shadow of a doubt that he was always meant to be the leader of House Harkonnen.  As the applause continues, you see Rabban appear in the doorway, a look of surprise disgust on his face. You notice he’s still wearing his nightclothes, and your eyes flash between him and Feyd as Rabban approaches Feyd, Rabban’s legs still stiff from sleep. 

“Leave us,” Feyd instructs the others in the room, who promptly file out. They keep their eyes on the floor, not daring to look at Rabban. They know people who end up alone in a room with Feyd after repeated blunders usually don’t exit the room outside of a body bag. 

“What are you doing here?” Rabban growls at Feyd.

“It’s early morning.  What are you doing here?” Feyd quips back.  Rabban lets out a frustrated huff.

“You can’t just waltz in here,” Rabban says through gritted teeth.  “And how can you bring that woman into the inner sanctum?”  

“How dare you refer to your Baroness like that!” Feyd roars, grabbing Rabban by his collar.  “If you have forgotten, dear Brother, I am Baron now.  I will do as I please and take my wife wherever I wish!” 

Feyd throws Rabban back and he falls on his back hard. In desperation, Rabban tries to scramble to his feet again, but as soon as he’s almost upright, he feels his knees buckle from under him as you kick the backside of his knees in. Rabban’s forehead collides with the stone floor with a visceral crack, and he feels his arm caught in your grip behind him. He groans as you push his arm to the verge of overextension. On his neck, Rabban feels the cool tip of a blade threatening to pierce his skin, which sends a chill down his spine, his head still spinning from impact.

“You should learn to respect your superiors,” you whisper to him as Feyd’s gaze is fixated on you.  The picture before him has a fire rising within him. His breath turns thick and heavy, seeing you over Rabban, your blade on his neck and your foot on his back with a fiendish smile on your lips.  “I would have expected more from my brother-in-law… You are a disgrace to House Harkonen,” you drawl, pressing your dagger’s tip into Rabban’s neck enough to draw blood. Dark crimson blood trickles down Rabban’s neck and he squirms. You remove your foot from his back and step forward to place your shoe by his face. You take the opportunity to kick his cheek in a little with the toe of your shoe before the heel of your combat boot hits the floor by Rabban’s face with a firm thunk. “Kiss my feet, and I may spare your life.”

Rabban quivers under your hold, his palms spread over the stone floor. He considers trying to escape. He could try to press his body up and avoid the blade on his neck and try to sweep your legs out from under you, but he quickly realizes that you are in control. Any movement like that would end with your knife in his chest, back, or neck. Despite his position being compromised, he hesitates to kiss your foot  How could he, Glossu Rabban, kiss a woman’s shoe in submission?

“You heard her, Brother,” Feyd hisses, stepping toward you both as he basks in his brother’s terror.  Feyd stops in front of his brother and squats down to look at him. “Kiss her feet.  Now.” 

After a moment, Rabban quivers and presses his lips against the leather of your shoes. As he does, you see how miserable and pathetic this man below you is. It's truly a shock that this oaf is the brother of your Feyd, who is confident, domineering, and skillful in every way.  

“You made a good decision obeying, Rabban,” you say, releasing the blade on his neck. “I would have wasted a perfectly sharpened knife slitting your throat if you hadn’t cooperated.” You step back from him as he clambers into an upright position. His hand flies to his neck, feeling the blood trickle down his neck and seep into his nightshirt. 

“You are hereby relieved of your duties as Planetary Governor of Arrakis,” Feyd grins at the pitiful sight before him. “You will return to your quarters in the meantime and wait for future instruction.”

Rabban leaves in defeat. Once the doors shut behind him, you and Feyd smirk at each other, and Feyd rushes to you giving you a tender kiss.  “I love you, Baroness,” he murmurs, completely infatuated with you.  

--

A few days later, you stare up into the atmosphere of Arrakis. The Emperor’s craft has just entered the atmosphere. You and Feyd share incredulous looks and you immediately make your way to where the emperor will be docking.  

“What could the emperor want?” you ask Feyd as you walk..  “We restored spice production. It’s never been more efficient.”

Feyd shakes his head, deep in thought.  “I do not know, my love.”  

“I don’t like this, Feyd.” you whisper to him, trying not to let anyone else hear and Feyd nods in return.  “What could have summoned the emperor to Arrakis?”

“We shall see,” he replies. Rabban arrives and bows to you both, which makes you frown. Rabban hasn’t been involved in House Harkonnen’s operations since he was removed. Nevertheless, he still proceeds into the throne room before Feyd or you can dismiss him.   

Inside the throne room, the emperor is perched on a large throne up a large flight of stairs with his daughter and a Bene Gesserit standing by him.  Your eyes narrow seeing the witch’s presence, knowing they have tricks they are not afraid of using to manipulate the great houses. You, Feyd, and Rabban kneel in front of them, bowing your heads.  Before any of you speak, the emperor’s voice rings out. 

“I am sure you are curious as to why I have come to Arrakis,” he begins.  “What do you know of the prophet Muad'dib?”  Rabban speaks up first, saying that Muad'dib is a madman.

“Mad?!” the emperor says.

“All Fremen are mad!” Rabban counters, and the Emperor’s fist clenches around the arm of his throne. You and Feyd shoot daggers at Rabban, and he closes his mouth immediately, putting his head down again which casts his face in shadow.

“We apologize for my brother speaking out of turn,” Feyd says to the Emperor. “Rabban has had no part in the latest work of House Harkonnen. He is not a reliable source of information.  We know Muad'dib is a figure of the Fremen, and they follow his command.”

“Yes,” you say. “He organizes their forces, and they have been effective in battle against many of our forces by hiding in the sands and staging ambushes.  They’ve been effective at destroying our spice harvesters in the past, but we’ve been able to successfully retaliate.” The Bene Gesserit flashes some hand signs at the emperor. She must be able to tell if people are lying or not. 

“What of the prophet’s whereabouts?” the Emperor asks, his voice darkening with frustration at your lack of knowledge.  The emperor’s suggested scorn directed at House Harkonnen is sour on your tongue, and you grit your teeth.  

“We control the north of Arrakis and spice production, Emperor,” you reply, keeping yourself collected.  “We believe Muad'dib has fled to the south to hide in the storms after my husband’s last military tactic was successful in neutralizing their northern bases.” 

As you utter those words, you feel a tremendous boom propagate through the air, causing the building to shudder. Everyone in the room looks up. Some of the diplomats that have accompanied the emperor swallow thickly. You and Feyd exchange knowing glances. Something isn’t right. The Sardaukar forces, who have come to protect the emperor, raise their weapons and get into formation with one line in front of the emperor, who has abandoned the throne in favor of shelter. 

The other line of Sardaukar forms a line opposite the entrance way, as more explosions can be heard beyond the walls. Out of the corner of your eye, you see Rabban slip away, ever the coward. You feel Feyd’s touch on your arm as he beckons you to position yourself behind the defenses with the other diplomats. From your shared position, you both wait and listen intently. The others in the room are paralyzed in a cold sweat, but you and Feyd are silently watching, waiting, and listening, already gathering information on the situation to calculate your next move.

Dust fills the room as another bang resonates throughout the room and the barrier breaks down. The frontline of the Sardaukar advance, weapons at the ready. As they disappear into the dust, you know they aren’t coming back. The room is almost entirely quiet, but through the haze you hear the barely audible but familiar sound of daggers piercing armor, slitting throats, and tearing flesh. The remaining Sardaukar dig their heels in as a figure emerges through the orange debris, wrapped in tan fabrics caked in others’ blood. His face is concealed by a scarf, and the only flesh of his you see are his eyes, blue from spice. He is accompanied by an army. Judging by the amount of noise they made on their arrival, you and Feyd know there are probably hundreds of them. Fighting your way out is not an option. This must be the prophet Muad'dib.

Muad'dib looks around with his blade drawn, seemingly searching for someone as he enters the room.  You see him and Feyd make eye contact. Feyd’s eyes narrow at him in curiosity. When Muad'dib does not find who he is looking for, he turns the crowd of people behind the Sardaukar guards. Most of the diplomats instinctively take a step back. He makes eye contact with the emperor before turning to his own forces and hissing something in a foreign tongue which you presume to be Chakobsa, Fremen language. He exits the room back into the crowd of Fremen who chant for him, waving their war banners.  You see they bear the hawk insignias of House Atreides. The son of Duke Leto Atreides is alive. 

The Fremen advance, easily slaying the last remaining Sardaukar. Many of the diplomats shudder and jump in surprise as the Fremen plunge their daggers into the Sardaukar warriors, who are powerless to stop them. Once they are all dead and their blood is spread across the floor in crimson red pools, the Fremen start grabbing the rest of you by your arms, and you are all dragged away one by one. You are being taken prisoner. You look to Feyd, who gives you a subtle nod as if to say “go along with it,” and you do.

--

You’ve laid low all in the confinement the Fremen have kept you in all night, not eager to give any of them a reason to kill you. Silently, you’ve been analyzing your situation, trying to figure out a way to achieve an optimal outcome, which you feel is slipping through your fingers. Since you have been taken prisoner, you can only presume that the rest of the Sardaukar and the Harkonnen army have been slaughtered and their bodies burned before daybreak. You and Feyd are likely the last living Harkonnens on Arrakis.  

After sunrise, you are called upon by a faceless Fremen, who orders all of the prisoners to follow. You are reunited with Feyd, who takes your hand, careful not to let the Fremen see this gesture of affection as to not allow them any leverage. His touch automatically makes you as at ease you can be, given that you are both captives without allies. 

Arriving in a room with the other prisoners, you see the surviving Fremen mingling and congratulating one another. The man from before stands in the clearing of the room without his face covering, his black wavy hair framing his face. Feyd turns to you and mouths “Atreides.” You nod in understanding, and watch as Paul Atreides addresses the Emperor, challenging him for the throne. Looking out the window, you see warships in the distant sky.  The other great houses have arrived and Paul Atreides threatens to destroy all the spice fields if the houses intervene. 

“Stand yourself or choose your champion,” he orders the Emperor, who turns to Feyd.  

“I select Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen,” the emperor declares. “Get him a blade.” You inhale sharply, knowing this means Feyd must fight to the death against a man who has already slain many in battle and emerged victorious from the bloodbath of the previous night. You trust Feyd’s skill, but you know not to underestimate Paul Atreides. Feyd’s eyes flicker toward you. He knows what you’re thinking and gives you a slight nod as if to promise he will fight his hardest, not for the emperor, but for you. He is presented with a blade by one of the members of the emperor’s council. To your surprise, Feyd pushes it away and turns to you. Coming to stand in front of you, he gestures downward toward your legs, where your daggers are still strapped to your thighs out of sight.

“Feyd, are you sure?” you say to him, your voice small. 

“I want to use your blade. Please let me fight for you,” Feyd whispers. You nod and reach down to fulfill his request, drawing one of your Youran weapons from your garters. When you hand it to him, Feyd feels the familiar heft of your dagger in his hand, which makes him grin. Just as he remembers, it’s expertly balanced and perfectly crafted, its pointed tip shining in the low orange light of the room. He smiles, recalling the night you handed him the same blade, the first time he saw your true nature. He twirls the knife in his grip with a flourish of his wrist as he stands opposite Paul Atreides. 

“It’s nice to finally meet you, cousin,” Paul says.

“Cousin…” Feyd says, continuing to evaluate Paul for his weaknesses. “You wouldn’t be the first family member I’ve killed.”

His words don’t phase you. You’re well aware of Feyd’s family history. You clasp your hands in each other in front of your chest, willing Feyd to be the victor. Paul Atreides straightens himself and salutes Feyd. “May thy knife chip and shatter,” Paul says with a gruff tone, lowering himself into a battle stance and pointing his knife at Feyd. Feyd smirks, raising your weapon. The sight of it in his hand is gratifying for Feyd. Despite standing alone against Paul, it’s as if you are both in this fight together with him wielding your weapon. 

“May thy knife chip and shatter,” Feyd returns and within moments, they're after each other, having an all out brawl in the middle of the room. They each swipe at each other with reaction times like lightning.  The sounds of blades crashing against one another, the low smacks of their bodies colliding, and their grunts of exertion fill the room. You have to admit, Paul Atreides is an impressive fighter. He’s quick on his feet and swiftly dodges and counters many of Feyd’s attacks, but it is obvious that Feyd is the one with strength on his side. The only way for Atreides to win is if he is able to find a way to use that strength against Feyd.

You’re barely breathing at this point. Your facade of stoicism threatens to crumble when you see Paul Atreides’ forehead connect firmly with your husband’s nose. To your surprise, you don’t see any blood on Feyd’s face. Paul Atreides’ head is thrown back after almost bouncing off of Feyd’s nose. Paul’s head seems to be spinning as he stumbles backward on uneven footing.  Feyd recognizes Paul’s debilitated state is fleeting, and takes advantage of the moment, striking Paul again. The tangle of limbs is intense, but in the blink of an eye, you see Feyd disarm Paul, taking Paul’s knife for his own.  

As they break away from one another, Paul Atreides is heaving, struggling to breathe as the leather bound hilt of your dagger protrudes from his abdomen. He’s wheezing as his own blood seeps into his battle gear. His allies gaze upon the sight in shock, some wincing in second-hand pain.

Feyd approaches him promptly, and grabs Paul by the scruff of his neck, raising Paul’s own knife at him. Paul Atreides uses his own gloved hand to grab the blade, trying to push it away, but Feyd leans in, forcing the blade to slip further into Paul’s grip, cutting the flesh of Paul’s hand open with a sickening noise, the tip of the knife getting closer to piercing Paul’s neck.

The next moment, you feel like screaming. The dagger, once poised to slice open Paul Atreides’ neck, is no longer in the air visible to you. Paul Atreides has used his grip on Feyd’s blade to redirect the tip toward the stomach of your husband. Your hands fly to your mouth, tears threatening to spill.  The force Feyd puts behind his blade at that proximity is fatal. 

The memories of meeting Feyd on Youra, fighting by his side against Ozran, plotting into the early hours to kill his despicable uncle, your wedding ceremony in front of House Harkonnen, and the moments of tenderness and affection he’s given you in private flash through your mind. Your stomach writhes, and your heart shrivels into itself, and your mind begins to confront the idea that you now must mourn the life you and Feyd had assembled. Another thought flashes through your mind. You’ll likely be killed after this with the rest of the prisoners in this room, and die alone without your husband, lightyears away from your people on Youra and Giedi Prime. You’ve failed.

Through your tears, you stare at the scene as the air and the people surrounding you are completely still.  However, something gives you pause. You hear something hit the floor look down to the area under Feyd and Paul’s feet. You spy fragments of metal, broken into uneven shards, scattered across the floor. However, there is no blood to be seen.  Your eyes shoot to Feyd, who is also looking down to where they both hold the hilt of the broken knife. 

Without a second to spare, Feyd’s hand flies to your knife in Paul’s side, ripping it out of him. Paul cries out in agony, the removal of the knife causing a blood curdling squelch of skin and muscle ripping. The next moment, Feyd slits Paul Atreides’ throat with a grand swing of his arm, sending blood splatter fanning across the floor. The pregnant woman seated in the wooden throne bearing the Atreides crest lets out a high pitched shriek, and she begins to wail, seeing the light from her son’s eyes fade as his body crumples to the floor. A Fremen woman across from you lets out a shaky breath, her lip quivering and tears pool near her bright blue eyes as Paul Atreides’ fresh blood collects in a puddle on the stone floor under the gaping hole in his neck.

Feyd turns back to you, bloody blade in hand and lets out a deep exhale, allowing the tension in his own chest to dissipate. He had thought he was dead, too, but no. He is alive. He is victorious, and he gets to look into your eyes again, knowing that he has done his job for you.

Kneeling, Feyd presents the emperor with the soiled blade. The emperor smiles and pronounces Paul Atreides, the prophet Muad'dib, to be dead and Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen as the victor. In defeat, the ally of Paul, identified as Gurney Halleck, relays a message to the great houses of the outcome of the fight.  The emperor’s reign shall continue, and your husband is alive. You push your way past the others in the crowd and throw yourself at Feyd, who cradles you in his arms, running his fingers through your hair, whispering to you “Please don’t shed any more tears, my love. I am still here… I wouldn’t leave you that easily.”

“I thought I lost you,” you choke out and Feyd shakes his head, using his thumb to wipe away the tear stains on your cheeks. 

“You haven’t and you won’t,” he replies, his hands holding your body steady. “Let’s go home.”

—

Holding your knees to your chest, you sit in a private chamber on the Emperor’s vessel as it leaves the atmosphere of Arrakis to take you and Feyd back to Giedi Prime, which was the least the emperor could do given that Feyd nearly died for him. One of Feyd’s hands rests on your waist, holding you firmly in his grip while the other rubs gentle circles on your shoulder with his thumb.  Feyd watches as your eyes dart side to side, which happens when you’re deep in though. 

“What is on your mind, my love?” he asks, his voice barely a whisper.  

“I’m thinking about your battle with Paul Atreides,” you reply. “The knife broke when he tried to turn the tables on you, didn’t it?” Feyd nods, bringing his hand down to the spot on his abdomen where the knife was. “May I see where it was?” you ask and Feyd obliges, creating a small bit of distance between the two of you so that you can get a good look at his torso.  

You bring your hand to where Feyd’s armor has been sliced open by the blade. Bringing the other hand to his body, you gently spread the layers of fabric and leather apart to look through the hole. Underneath, you see Feyd’s familiar pale skin and his chiseled abdominal muscles that you’ve always loved to drag your fingers across. His skin appears to be absolutely pristine without a single nick or bruise in sight. You bring your head closer to get a better look before saying, “There isn’t evidence of any damage to your skin, Feyd. Your body is like the battle never happened. There isn’t a trace of impact.” As soon as you utter the last word in the sentence, you freeze and your lips part ever so lightly as your mind races to connect the dots. He knows that look on you, and he sees the gears turning in your mind. 

“Impact…,” you mumble to yourself. Your eyes shoot up to Feyd’s  “During the battle there was a moment when Paul Atreides’ head collided with your nose.” Your hand flies to his cheek to steady his head. You examine his nose, using your hand to tilt his head side to side. Everything about his face is unchanged, which shouldn’t be the case, especially after a fight like that and the headbutt he endured from Paul. You tip his head back. Again, there is no blood or breakage. 

Your mind begins to race as you return your hands to your husband’s torso. Your hands fumble as you attempt to remove the layers of armor in between you and Feyd’s skin. Feyd realizes what you’re doing and soon enough he’s shirtless in front of you. You extend your hand out and drag your hand over his stomach. You press your fingers firmly down onto his abdominal region and upper body repeatedly, changing the area you’re putting pressure on each time. He feels solid under your touch and not in the way you’re used to. Feyd has always been bulky and muscular, hardened from years of training, but something about this is different. It’s like his body has the durability of an alloy the researchers on Youra could only dream of engineering, but he’s still flesh and blood. Bring your fingers to your own stomach, pressing your fingers against your own front, and you gasp. “That’s it!” you exclaim.

“What is it?” he asks, knowing you are on the edge of an epiphany. 

“It’s the elixir!” you gasp, standing up and holding your head in disbelief  “It saved your life!”

 “I thought it was only to help the body retain water,” Feyd says as you get up and begin circling the room.

“Don’t you remember? That’s the end result of the elixir, but we were still unsure of the mechanism by which that happens!” you exclaim. “Remember the night I showed you the fish? I said that the fish sheds its scales at the beginning of the wet season. What I didn’t tell you is that the wet season is the only time of year we can get the scales off the fish because they fall off naturally. Our scientists have tried to get the scales before the transition of the seasons, but they've always been unable to pry the scales off or kill them because it was impossible to slice open the fish. No matter how much we sharpened the knives, we couldn’t cut them open!”

“That’s how the fish retain water in the dry season. The fish develop these scales with this compound that transforms their own bodies into a shield from the elements, so that water can’t escape. I’ve always wondered how a fish would be able to survive the whole dry season on a dried up lake bed.  This compound is why the fish species hasn’t gone extinct! When they’re sitting in their dried up ponds, no predators can eat them because their bodies are too tough to pierce,” you surmise, delight filling your complexion. “By drinking that compound, the same thing has happened to our bodies! You were able to survive the battle because your skin became this impenetrable barrier that lets you keep your water that just so happens to be impervious to outside attacks as well! That’s also why your nose didn’t break and why Paul Atreides was so disoriented after he struck you with his head. It was as if he rammed his head into a steel wall.  Researchers on Youra didn't catch this effect in the clinical trials because we don’t just go stabbing all of our test subjects with knives or subjecting them to blunt force trauma, especially not for a study about water retention!”

Feyd hardly believes what he’s hearing, but he knows it's true. Everything you’re saying makes perfect sense.  Memories from the battle flash in his mind.  He remembers his arm is suddenly bending toward himself, feeling the rough surface of the broken blade scrape against his abdomen, but the pain he had been trained to resist since childhood never hitting his senses. He brings himself to his feet and pulls you into his arms, squeezing you as tight as he can muster. “You are phenomenal, my dear,  I can’t believe you figured that out,” he murmurs to you. “Thank you.  I owe you my life.”

He lowers his lips to yours, kissing you like he’s never done before. You both cling to one another, relieved you are both alive and safe. Feyd holds the back of your head and runs his fingers through your locks tenderly, thinking about how far you both have come in this short amount of time. Mere months ago, you were a stranger he had the obligation to meet and marry. He knew he would have to enter a loveless relationship with you in the name of alliances. He tried to convince himself you were a woman he wanted to make a plaything out of.  Before, he was intent on manipulating, breaking, and exploiting you for his own amusement. Those ideas feel so foreign to Feyd now as he revels in your affections and caresses your cheek. 

Looking down at you, he sees you for what you are. You are the most beautiful being to ever exist.  Nothing past or present will ever compare to you, and it brings tears to his eyes, knowing you are his wife and he is your husband. You are the culmination of all House Ronen and House Harkonnen have worked for, a true representation of the union of your two houses, and the pinnacle of all Feyd has come to hold dear. You are where brain meets brawn, where tradition meets modernity, and the pride and joy of Feyd’s life. You are simply everything. 

-- 

Thanks for reading!  I can’t believe the series is over (but I'm also considering writing an epilogue, but I have some requests coming down the pipeline, so we'll see about that. lmk if that's something you might be interested in...). Anyway, I really hope you enjoyed Knives Dance! :)

Also is it obvious I study chemistry yet?

Taglist:

@austinbutlerslovers @rougegenshin @itshype@woodland-mist @tian-monique @torchbearerkyle @austinswhitewolf @allthingsimagines @meetmeatyourworst @nyaaaaa008 @caroline334 @alana4610 @targaryen-madness

Tags that aren't working for some reason??? @roguegenshin @miaraises

[floralcyanide]

ɪ, ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ᴅᴇᴠɪʟ ― ᴘᴀᴜʟ ᴀᴛʀᴇɪᴅᴇs

paul atreides x fem!reader (nsfw)

You enjoy your wedding night with Paul in a daring way.

✣ warnings: smut, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, female anatomy described, knife play, fingering, mutual orgasm, aged-up paul, post-wedding sex

✣ word count: 1.2k

✣ author’s note: a surprise wip! it was even a surprise to me lol. I watched Dune/ Dune 2 a month ago but somehow just got the inspiration to write for Paul. I need to read the series, the size of the books intimidated me in middle school so I never read them lol ): anyway, I hope yall enjoy!

masterlist | divider credit: @cafekitsune

based on this song | i like the devil - purity ring

this fic has been cross posted to ao3.

ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ᴄᴏᴘʏ, ʀᴇᴘʀᴏᴅᴜᴄᴇ, ᴏʀ ᴄʟᴀɪᴍ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋ ᴀs ʏᴏᴜʀs ᴏɴ ᴛᴜᴍʙʟʀ, ᴀᴏ3, ᴡᴀᴛᴛᴘᴀᴅ, ᴏʀ ᴀɴʏ ᴡᴇʙsɪᴛᴇ. ʏᴏᴜ ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴘᴇʀᴍɪssɪᴏɴ ᴛᴏ ᴜsᴇ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋs ɪɴ ᴀɪ ɢᴇɴᴇʀᴀᴛᴏʀs ᴏʀ ᴀɴʏᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴛᴏ ᴅᴏ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴀʀᴛɪғɪᴄɪᴀʟ ɪɴᴛᴇʟʟɪɢᴇɴᴄᴇ. ʏᴏᴜ ᴍᴀʏ ɴᴏᴛ ᴜsᴇ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋs ᴛᴏ sᴇʟʟ ғᴏʀ ᴀs ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴏᴡɴ ᴄʀᴇᴀᴛɪᴏɴ.

You’re standing in the mirror, admiring the off-white gown that flows behind you in a trail. It’s adorned in gold and pearl and fits you flawlessly. It’s the first moment of quiet you’ve had all day and your first time alone since this morning. It’s your wedding evening, and you’re now married to Duke Paul Atreides. This meant you’re the new Duchess of Caladan, a title that rolls off your tongue with satisfaction. Nothing seemed finer than being the leader of your people with your lover by your side. You are too busy in your thoughts and don’t notice Paul entering the suite and walking up behind you. He wraps his arms around you, resting his head on top of yours.

“What’s on your mind, my darling bride?”

“Nothing,” you smile, “It’s nice to hear that, though. Me being your bride.”

The sun is setting behind the cliffs of Caladan, showering the large bedroom in its golden glow through the windows of the Castle. The light falls onto Paul, his eyelashes casting shadows on his cheekbones. He looks at you with adoration through the reflection of the mirror. The same adoration he’s always looked at you with, but this time, his eyes are darker with a storm of desire. It’s the perfect evening to explore those desires, after all. Paul pulls away from you, beginning to unbutton his ceremonial wear, careful with the ancient fabric. You turn to help him with it, easing it off his shoulders. Paul doesn’t bother changing into something comfortable, knowing it won’t be on for long. He guides your dress down your arms and body, admiring the lace covering your most intimate parts. Paul takes your hand, kissing the top of it as he gets down on his knees before you. He pulls off your intricate shoes, the very ones that have been bothering your feet since this morning. You sigh in relief. Paul’s hand grasps your ankle as he brings it to his lips, kissing up the side of your calf as he makes his way to your thighs. He kisses your warm skin as he nears your clothed core. You hold your breath in anticipation, but before Paul reaches the desired destination, he removes his lips. 

“Come with me, my love,” Paul moves to lay on the large bed, beckoning you to follow him.

“I’ve been waiting for this all day,” you sigh, letting yourself relax into the cushy pillows.

“Don’t go sleeping on me yet,” Paul chuckles, hovering over you before pressing his lips to yours.

You grab his face, letting your hands slide through his mess of curls. He deepens the kiss before traveling to your neck, gently pecking your sensitive skin. Paul allows you to arch your back so he can unclasp and remove your bra. He then works your lacy garments down your legs and off your ankles. You’re entirely bare before him now, and this time around, it’s different. You belong to each other wholly now and can share intimacy knowing you’re forever bound. 

“Beautiful,” Paul whispers, letting his hands roam your body, “Can I try something?”

“Depends,” you bite your lip, “Will I like it?”

“Oh,” Paul scoffs, “You’ll love it. I know how you are, always wanting to try new and risky things.”

You quirk an eyebrow, “Risky?”

Paul leans over to the bedside table and retrieves a small dagger, one that had been gifted to him for your wedding. He hesitantly brings it to your throat, pressing the flat of the blade to your pulse.

“How about this, hmm?” Paul asks, searching your eyes for any indication of fear, but finds excitement instead, “You like it, my darling?”

“Yes,” you exhale, letting yourself melt into the bed despite the weapon at your throat. You fully trust Paul.

“Good,” he smiles, allowing one of his hands to slap your cunt, sending a surge of electricity through you as you yelp from the sudden movement. 

Paul circles your clit with a slow finger, biting his lip as your mouth gapes open in a silent cry. You buck your hips as you grow wet from the feeling of a dagger to your neck and Paul’s sensual touching. He gathers your wetness with his other finger before slipping it inside you, curling it immediately to stretch you out. He presses his thumb to your bundle of nerves as he pumps his middle finger in and out. Paul tosses one of your legs over his shoulder to get a better angle, adding another finger. He’s on his knees, firmly planted on either side of your legs, his lean body still hovering over you. You slide your hands over his torso before teasing the waistband of his underwear, which is growing a little tight. Paul pauses his movements to tear off the remaining clothing before he decides to lay on his stomach momentarily to get a taste of you. He licks a fat stripe up your weeping slit, suckling your clit to elicit a moan from you before resuming his previous position above you. Paul pumps himself a few times before gliding his tip along your entrance, gathering your arousal before slowly pushing in. 

“Paul,” you moan, throwing your head back as Paul presses the sharper edge of the dagger to your pulse point. 

Your heart roars in your ears at the adrenaline racing through your veins. One wrong move is all it takes. And it excites you. Paul finds himself fully sheathed inside you, catching his breath. You urge him to move, and he pulls himself almost entirely out of you before guiding himself back in. He picks up a rhythm, pounding into you as he holds the blade to your neck, his green eyes almost black now. You aren’t shy about how loud you are as Paul hits your g spot dead-on, and you try your best to be still when he does so the dagger doesn’t dig into your skin. Its sole purpose is to keep you under Paul’s control; you love every minute of it. Paul is gripping your hip with his other hand, helping you fuck yourself onto his length at the same time he’s thrusting into you. Paul moves the dagger down your chest to tease around the circumference of your breasts. You feel the familiar knot in your stomach tightening, and you warn Paul by wrapping your legs around his waist. He knows to pick up his pace when you do this. He completely discards the dagger beside you on the duvet, grabbing your hips with both hands as he slams into you, his grunts and moans growing louder. You can feel your arousal seeping out of you and surging around Paul’s cock, the sound of it mixing with the slapping of skin. 

“You’re so beautiful, my love. Will you cum for me?” Paul digs his fingernails into your hips, feeling himself growing closer to his orgasm.

“Yes,” you gasp, watching him move in and out of you, “I wanna cum for you, Paul.”

“Then let go, doll,” Paul coerces, his hair falling in his face.

You let your orgasm wash over you in a hot wave, your body going limp as Paul loses himself in the way your cunt clenches around him with a vice. His orgasm follows yours soon after, his cum filling you up. Your chest is heaving as Paul pulls out of you slowly before falling onto the bed next to you. He draws you into his chest, moving your hair out of your face and tucking it behind your ear. 

“So beautiful,” Paul whispers, and you smile before carefully turning to face him.

You stroke his cheek, “I’m so glad to be married to you.”

“And I to you,” Paul kisses your palm. 

[faghubby]

caught with our pants down (part 2 to caught with her pants down)

In the morning Stephanie and I had a serious conversation, she swore she would never cheat again. She explained how she had thought Olivia was a woman at first. How she was curious. And she loved me.

Over the next few weeks, we both got busier. For her it was wedding plans. Had to meet the caterer, sample cake, dress fittings, even canceling our dinner dates on occasions. Although I was busy Stephanie was even more so. Our love life suffered at first but then it was even general conversations. We barely saw each other.

Then one day she informs me she is pregnant. At first I worry about that one time with Olivia. But what are the odds so I let it go. Now on top of insane schedules Stephanie being sick, or just not in the mood because of the pregnancy. By the time my bachelor party rolled around we had not had sex in two months. I was tempted that night easy enough to slip off with a stripper. But stayed true to Stephanie.

It was two days later as I stood at the alter. When Stephanie's sister Jamie came to tell me that Stephanie was sick due to the pregnancy just give her a few minutes. 15 minutes go by and out comes Gina her college roommate and one of the brides maids. Makes excuses again. I try and go see Stephanie, but she is sick in the bathroom I can her her gasping. I go and apologize to everyone but they all understand.

Again a bridesmaid alice appears to tell us to be patient. I even have the caterers start serving drinks and oredurves as we wait. Suddenly Olivia appears, I had not even realized she was the matrain of honor. She announces that the bride is ready. The ceremony goes off wonderfully. Stephanie is in high spirits. I mention Olivia when we have a moment alone.

"Paul, I asked her long before I couldn't take it back, how would I explain that to everyone" Stephanie told me. I nodded understanding

"Besides I love you" we go on with the celebration. We are spending the night in the hotel before we leave for Hawaii on our honeymoon.

The day winds down and we head to our suite. I even carry Stephanie over the threshold. I help her out of her gown. And start kissing her when suddenly the room is full of people. Hiding in the closet or in the hall. I am pushed face down on the bed.

"Sorry baby, but you will understand how much I need this" Stephanie tells me, as I see her forcefully stripped of her lingerie by her own friends. I watch as Gina is wearing a huge black dildo. She lays Stephanie on her back and mounts her. Stephanie takes the toy with such ease.

Olivia is the one holding me down. She leans in close to my ear.

"Your wife is carring my baby" she tells me. I been fucking her every week for almost a year. I can't look away as I watch Stephanie get pounded by her friend. Olivia tears my clothes away. I try to resist but my sister in law grabs my wrists. As Oliva tears my boxers. She rubs her rubbed cock against my ass. More hands hold me as she works the tip of her cock into my ass.

"Don't fight Paul, let her take you" Stephanie moans reaching out and holding my hand. I try and call out. As I do a pair of panties are stuffed in my mouth.

"Do I taste like my sister?" Jamie asks she is barely 18. Olivia works her massive cock into my ass. I look over and see Jamie getting fucked as well. As Gina stuffs her pussy.

"Your ass is even tighter then your wife's the first time I took it" Olivia tells me. Olivia is now working the full length of her 9 inch cock in and out of my ass. I spit out the gag, but now I whimper and moan. As she fucks me. I look over to see. Stephanie now has her face buried in between Gina's thighs. As Alice fucks her asshole. We hold hands as we are taken together as man and wife. Olivia comes pu,ping her load deep into my bowels. I am humiliated but as I go to stand I realize I had cum all over the bed. My little sister in law grabs my hair. And shoves a dildo in my face.

"Suck it bitch. Show us how much you want this" she pinches my nipple hard. I open my mouth and taste the pussy covered dildo. Who's pussy is this? I think. I am made to kneel and watch Stephanie get gangbanged for a second time today. She wasn't sick today. She wasn't allowed to get married till she made them all come on her tounge. Stephanie has had enough she has passed out. Gina puts her dildo under my ass. And pushes me down on it. I gasped and Olivia appeared in front of me she held her cock to my mouth. I took it. I started to suck the til its al, I could fit.

I could see Gina and Alice working on poor little Jamie. And Jamie called out for more. I was on my knees with a huge dildo shoved up my ass as this mean but buetiful Trans fucked my mouth. And I was excited seeing my sister in law take it like a whore from two lesbians next to my new wife.

What was wrong with me. Olivia came in my mouth then had Jamie kiss me we shared her seed.

"You are going to be a mother and father to my child. And an excellent sourse of entertainment for me" Olivia hissed in my ear as they all left . I laid next to Stephanie. Her body covered in little bruises. She reached out and pulled me to her. We held each other as we fell asleep

[sunsetstarrogue]

Thanks @msmorningstaarr for tagging me!

rules: in a new post, show the last line you wrote (or drew) and tag as many people as you feel like.

He dreams of her before he ever meets her. Her silhouette graced the peak of the dune, back turned to him. Each step towards her felt like wading through quicksand, the loose grains swallowing his feet as he closed the distance. The dress she wears is unlike the sculpted and elegant gowns his mother wears. Her dress, the color of sun-bleached earth, clung to her form like a second skin, echoing the wild dance of her brown hair in the wind.  The sun beams onto his pale skin, the heat of the sun was fiercer than any he’d ever felt. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, he reached the summit of the dune, drawing closer to her. Tentatively, he reached out to touch her shoulder, but before his fingers could touch her, she turned around, and he found himself breathless at the sight of her. A gentle smile blooms on her face, crinkling the corners of her eyes with warmth. The sunlight catches her eyes, turning them molten gold as she meets his gaze. He releases a shaky breath, and as their eyes lock, a single word tumbles from her lips. "Rhaegar,"  “Elia." he breathes in reply, the name of the stranger somehow known to him.  A melody of laughter escapes her lips, a sweet sound that dances on the wind and carries him away as he wakes with a gasp, the dream fading like morning mist.

This is just something random that I came up. It's very much Chani x Paul inspired.

Sorry for tagging you again @martellspear but I have no one else to tag 😭

[gatorlovebot]

Okay so I don’t know where exactly your wanting to go with the story at this very point. Like do you want to continue the angst or do you want to get to the fluffy bits. Either way I think there is a big opportunity for more!!! I don’t know if any of this sounds repetitive or not or too similar to any of the earlier chapters but just let me know!!!

1.) if your thinking more angst then what about maid/reader just straight up trying to leave!! Like Simon has still not gotten his shit together and reader is tired of it because they obviously live in achother but if he can’t make the necessary steps then what’s the point of staying!!! Like she seriously hunks it’s unfair to both of them to continue this torture and he is the king so obviously he can’t leave, so she does!!! You could even go the super cliche route of reader taking a break or a vacation but in reality they don’t plan on ever coming back!!! Or they leave a letter and just slink off into the night and they’ve already secretly found a replacement to take over their duties and Simon doesn’t find out till the next morning when it’s time for him to get ready!!! This could lead to him going bonkers and freaking out and putting all of the guards to work in finding her and it’s like a national emergency, and there’s a fucking amber alert and everything!!!! Meanwhile reader is like already in the next town over thinking that Simon doesn’t even care cause it’s been a few hours and she’s heard nothing in response to her disappearance, which is what she wants but it doesn’t hurt any less!!! Cut to a few hours later and simons fucking riding through towns like Paul Revere calling for her and asking any and everyone if they’ve seen the love of his life anywhere. He’s not even like fully dressed cause he just got out of bed and immediately took off when he realized she was trying to leave him!!!

2.) if you want more fluff then I gain raise you the obsessed Simon!!!! He is a traumatized lil big man and he is having a difficult time expressing that he does actually care for reader and that he wants to depend his life with them!!!! So he does it the only way he know how, and that is by spoiling the reader in every possible way!!! He has the most exp naive gown and crown and or ring made to give to her as a proposal and he’s making some elaborate declaration of love but he’s still struggling cause he doesn’t know how to do this, so the reader has to take him and explain that it isn’t the riches or the status that make them love Simon but it’s just that he’s him!!!! And they kiss and make up!!!

I have more but I’ll leave you with these two for now!!! If you don’t like either then just let me know and I’ll give you even more!!!!!!!💖

omg dude i love both of these so much!! they're so perfect because they're both so love sick. like in the angsty one, simon is so distraught realizing that reader is gone he has to find her. he's a crazy person and has to fight his way out of the castle to go find her.

and the fluffy one is so good because simon is probably equally as distraught because he doesn't know how to communicate. all reader really wants is for him to address their feelings for each other directly and he's scared of doing that so he tries to prove his loyalty to her through gifts and expenses.

ooh i'm conflicted on which way to go now!! these both are just too fucking good, definitely got the juices flowing now!

[thefoxesraven]

Happy Wip Wednesday Y’all!

Friday, May 27th, Clemson, South Carolina, 7:30 am in the morning and Percy Antonio Jackson is sitting in SunnySide Café waiting for a couple other people to join this little breakfast before a certain someone’s High School graduation ceremony. It had been almost three years since Percy moved to South Carolina with his family. Three years since Percy had to face Luke Castellan, possessed by Kronos. Three years since he watched Annabeth move in front of him as Riko Moriyama tried to strike him from behind. Three years since the nightmares. Three years since he lived in NYC. Yet it was only a year since Percy had gone missing then came back having fought another war. His therapist, Betsy Dobson, welcomed him into her office with a plate of freshly baked chocolate chip cookies. Percy wasn’t thinking about all of that though. He was thinking about the girl who practically ran over to the table in her matching emerald dress to the emerald shirt he was wearing. It wasn’t their school colors, but their gowns were an awful gold and blue. Annabeth smiled wide looking at him and sitting down. Sally and Paul addressed the older man that was with her. She was stunning with her blonde hair in crochet braids that just fell perfectly framing her gorgeous face. Percy couldn’t miss the grey streak in her hair, and he stared which made Annabeth roll her eyes a bit chuckling. Normally she’d tease him with a big smile, but she just pointed behind Percy. Percy turned around and saw his Uncle David and his ‘friend’ Abby walking up to the table. Percy jumped up and Wymack brought Percy into a hug. Paul and Sally then stood up and they all hugged each other. Wymack and Abby introduced themselves to Fredrick Chase who sat next to Annabeth before everyone sat down again.

“I think I met you at the last faculty meeting, you’re one of the history professors, Norse mythos is your focus?” Wymack ask and Fredrick chuckled a bit and nodded.

“Yes, that’s right. Would you be surprised if I told you that there aren’t a lot of Norse experts in South Carolina?” Fredrick said in a lighthearted tone. “But it did give me a great opportunity to teach here and well I’m sure Annabeth and Percy appreciate the fact they were able to stay close to each other.”

“Without a doubt,” Annabeth said with a smile and Percy chuckled smiling at her.

“After everything that happened. Totally,” Percy said with a chuckle and Abby smiled at Percy.

“Are you nervous about today? You’re graduating High School and in just a few months you’ll be on the foxhole court playing.” Abby said sweetly and Percy smiled a bit.

“I mean, a little bit. I didn’t think I was going to be able to with how my junior year turned out, but I got a lot of help from everyone and here I am.” Percy said with a smile and his voice cracked a little bit and he chuckled. “But I’m glad that I don’t have to talk during this thing.”

[nomadicpuppeteer]

A Transforming Light

Lately, the fear of the unknown seized Anna's mind to the point that she would forget where she was, what time it was, or what world she lived in. The only thing she was conscious of was the prison wherein she became accustomed to living. It was now Friday, 1 PM in the afternoon.  Anna forced herself to sit up in bed.  She wiggled her toes and firmly pinched her arm.  Then, she checked the pulse behind her ear.  She was still alive.  Well, I guess I’ve got a little more time, she thought to herself, apathetically.

It had been 52 days since she received the mind-altering news, and over a month since her boyfriend Paul left.  She knew he was tiring of her moodiness.  The day that she received the dreadful news, she couldn’t muster the courage to tell him why she’d been so moody lately, so instead she picked a fight.  She wanted not only him, but everyone and everything to go away.  She got her wish, and finally pushed Paul out of the door. Now, she remained pinned to the safety net of her comforter and pillows, fastened between loneliness and pride.

Anna’s cell phone began to ring frantically, agitating the stillness in the room.  Already on edge, Anna’s heart skipped a beat. She answered the call as she got out of bed.  “Hello?”

“Anna. It’s Paul.”  The voice on the other end was uneasy.

“Hey.”  She felt as if she'd been separated from the love of her life for ages. But, he had no idea what had been eating her up inside. "It really is good to hear your voice, Paul."

“Anna, listen, I know that my decision to go was very abrupt. I was angry too, I felt pushed aside." She understood, but she had wanted him to go in that moment.  She would have left her too!

“Paul, you can’t even begin to imagine how isolated I feel. I'll explain soon, I promise.” Weak and fatigued from hiding behind a hardened facade, Anna yearned for Paul's comforting arms.  Come on Anna, this is your soulmate, she thought.  How could she hide any part of her soul? Paul was a good man, but he was only a man. She needed a divine touch.

“I love you Anna. Whatever it is, I'm here for you.” Paul continued to attempt to save any bit of trust that remained in Anna’s heart.

“Paul, remember the doctor’s appointment I had a while back? Well, it wasn’t just a check-up.  It was a dreaded follow-up. ”  Anna took hold of her anxiety flung it into the air.  She continued, “Paul,  I have breast cancer.”

A part of her had wanted to tell him as soon as she got the news, but instead of sharing the truth, her panic pushed him away.  Anna’s hand began to tremble slightly while holding the phone to her ear.  She could picture the tears falling from Paul’s eyes, rolling down his cheeks, passing the distinct cleft in his chin, and evaporating into a helpless space.  She could see his deep brown eyes well up like the soil during an incessant rainstorm.

“I understand why you left.  I was so scared and angry.  I should have told you.  I just didn’t know how to.” Anna’s words tapered off into even more painful sobs. There had to be a gateway for relief. Where was the deliverance for the broken-hearted?

“Sweetheart I’m coming home. Nothing you can say right now will change my mind.”  Anna felt undeserving of Paul’s forgiving ways and his unconditional love, but she needed that love.  She needed a relentless love to fight the pain.

Lately, Anna's mornings, afternoons, and nights seemed to meld like a cornucopia of unsightly, useless produce. She could have more productive days, but she'd been in a dark place that seemed impenetrable by light. Today was especially dark and useless, so she decided to go to bed early.

Sleep now wanted in, and her subconscious began to knock from the other side.  Anna felt a very light tap on her shoulder. Looking over toward her bedroom door, she saw a beautiful young lady dressed in a lily-white gown. A ring of light encapsulated her, continuing through the doorway. The ethereal lady smiled big, her eyes glistening with warmth.  “Hi Anna, I'm Gabrielle. Come.” She motioned for her to follow.  

Anna looked around her bedroom. Am I dreaming already, she thought. Feeling as if she had nothing to lose, she rose from her bed and walked toward her bedroom door. She hesitated for a moment, but ultimately, she chose courage. Within what seemed like the blink of an eye, she vulnerably embraced Zion.  Like a sun-kissed cloud, both weightless and warm, Anna could feel the solace made between mind and matter. 

“Come, Anna.  Fear doesn’t exist here.”  Fear doesn’t exist here, Anna thought before stepping completely into a world of pure joy.  The intensity of this world's light and love permeated every cell in her body, and the weight of her fears transformed into wings of hope.  The pieces of her heart that had broken in despair began to gather themselves again to form a whole vessel.  “Peace be with you.” The heavenly young lady smiled with the same big glistening smile that she greeted her with. Then Gabrielle spun around and disappeared into the illuminated space.

After a moment of stillness, Anna lifted her head and looked around her bedroom. She wiggled her toes and firmly pinched her arm.  She checked the pulse behind her ear. She was alive! Gratitude filled her heart. She remained still for a moment in bliss. There was an indescribable peace that filled the air. She couldn't remember details of the night before, but she remembered the words, "Peace be with you".

Thank you God for today, she thought to herself.  Anna raised her head to heaven and shouted enthusiastically, "Thank you God for more time!" She was ready to embrace all that life had in store for her, fearlessly. Fear doesn't exist here, she thought.  As she sat up in bed,  she picked up her phone to read a text from Paul. He'd be there any moment. A smile began to form on her face.  She sat in awe as she had an epiphany. The door to a fearless hope had always been hers to open.  She simply needed to arrive at the place where she was courageously ready to be transformed.

[shammah8]

The gifts of healing are so varied. Y ou may go and see ten people and every case is different. I am never happier in the Lord than when I am in a bedroom with a sick person. I have had more revelations of the Lord’s presence when I have ministered to the sick at their bedsides than at any other time. It is as your heart goes out to the needy ones in deep compassion that the Lord manifests His presence. Y ou are able to locate their position. It is then that you know that you must be filled with the Spirit to deal with the conditions before you.

Where people are in sickness you find frequently that they are dense about Scripture. They usually know three scriptures though. They know about Paul’s thorn in the flesh, and that Paul told Timothy to take a little wine for his stomach’s sake, and that Paul left someone sick somewhere; they forget his name, and don’t remember the name of the place, and don’t know where the chapter is. Most people think they have a thorn in the flesh. The chief thing in dealing with a person who is sick is to locate their exact position. As you are ministering under the Spirit’s power the Lord will let you see just that which will be more helpful and most faith-inspiring to them.

When I was in the plumbing business I enjoyed praying for the sick. Urgent calls would come and I would have no time to wash, and with my hands all black I would preach to these sick ones, my heart all aglow with love. Ah, you must have your heart in the thing when you pray for the sick. Y ou have to get right to the bottom of the cancer with a divine compassion and then you will see the gifts of the Spirit in operation.I was called at 10 o’clock one night to pray for a young person given up by the doctor who was dying of consumption. As I looked, I saw that unless God undertook it was impossible for her to live. I turned to the mother and said, “Well, mother. you will have to go to bed.” She said, “Oh, I have not had my clothes off for three weeks.” I said to the daughters, “Y ou will have to go to bed,” but they did not want to go. It was the same with the son. I put on my overcoat and said, “Good-bye, I’m off.” They said, “Oh, don’t leave us.” I said, “I can do nothing here.” They said, “Oh, if you will stop, we will all go to bed.” I knew that God would move nothing in an atmosphere of mere natural sympathy and unbelief.

They all went to bed and I stayed, and that was surely a time as I knelt by that bed face to face with death and with the devil.

But God can change the hardest situation and make you know that He is almighty.

Then the fight came. It seemed as though the heavens were brass. I prayed from 11 to 3:30 in the morning. I saw the glimmering light on the face of the sufferer and saw her pass away. The devil said, “Now you are done for. Y ou have come from Bradford and the girl has died on your hands.” I said, “It can’t be. God did not send me here for nothing. This is a time to change strength.” I remembered that passage which said, “Men ought always to pray and not to faint.” Death had taken place but I knew that my God was all powerful, and He that had split the Red Sea is just the same today. It was a time when I would not have “No,” and God said “Y es.” I looked at the window and at that moment the face of Jesus appeared. It seemed as though a million rays of light were coming from His face. As He looked at the one who had just passed away, the color came back to the face. She rolled over and fell asleep.

Then I had a glorious time. In the morning she woke early, put on a dressing gown and walked to the piano. She started to play and to sing a wonderful song. The mother and the sister and the brother had all come down to listen. The Lord had undertaken. A miracle had been wrought.👏SMITH WIGGLESWORTH

[emmywrites-blog]

our duty

pairing: prince paul (catherine the great) x fem!reader

word count: 5.2k

genre: angst, fluff, & smut

summary: your brief marriage to Prince Paul of Russia has consisted of minimal interactions between the both of you. you decide that confronting your husband was the only way to come to a conclusion of what your marriage would be.

warnings: SMUT, MINORS DNI. cursing, unprotected sex, creampie, oral sex (f recieving), fingering, dirty talk.

a/n: this is my first time writing smut so PLEASE leave some feedback, it is very much appreciated.

You had spent the past month in preparation for your marriage to Prince Paul of Russia. It wasn’t a marriage you had any say in, not that most women did. Your parents were happy enough to marry you off to a wealthy man, let alone a Prince. It guaranteed them financial stability and a high reigning status. In their opinion, it was a win-win for everyone involved. They no longer worried about their reputation, you fulfilled your duty as a woman, and Paul would eventually receive an heir.

Your interactions with Prince Paul were minuscule and brief, consisting of simple introductions and hello’s. You couldn’t say whether you liked the man or simply tolerated him. Your opinions of him surrounded his seemingly tasteless personality. Paul was quiet, but not in a way that would conclude him as shy, no…it seemed as though he only interacted with those that he deemed ‘worthy’, and you? Well you had no idea where you were placed on that list. Surely not high.

Even on your wedding night, you barely spoke after the ceremony. The longest conversation you had was when Paul decided that you two would be retiring for the night, 

“I believe we both have had enough of these affairs today, we might as well retire for the night.” Paul spoke, his hands clasped behind his back as his eyes scanned the room, landing anywhere except your face. 

You weren’t surprised, he hadn’t even made eye contact with you earlier that day as you both stood in front of the priest. He had caused many thought’s to rush through your brain while the priest's mumbling echoed through the columns of your ears, ‘Was I pretty enough? Did he like my dress? God, my makeup must be horrid’. All the while, Paul kept his eyes on your cheek. 

You nodded at his request and gave a polite smile to the people around you, “Yes, of course.” You responded and let him lead the way to your bed chambers. 

It had been a whole week since the wedding, and the only words you exchanged were in passing. Paul spent most of his time in his office, working with finances or whatever it was a Prince did. You attended the introductions, meeting people of high standing. It was quite boring. At the end of the day you both would retire to your separate bed chambers, the only thing separating you was the large wooden door that connected both of your rooms. 

You were now pacing the hardwood floors of your room, thinking of a way, any way, that you could get Paul to like you. It was clear he didn’t, he couldn’t, not with the amount of time he spent away from you. You slid your hands down the front of your dress, as though it was a fragile piece of linen. 

It was an expensive gown, made of baby blue fabric that had a subtle shine to it. It was nicer than any other dress you ever had at home. Strands of your hair fell along your chest, detached from the bun you had diligently been forced to wear earlier that morning by your dressing maids. 

You took a deep breath and took the few brief steps towards the door that connected yours and Paul's room. You lifted your hand, placing a rhythmic knock along the hard wood with your knuckles. 

“Yes?” You could hear spoken from inside, causing your mind to flood with all the possible annoyances you had already caused Paul. Was he annoyed by the mere sound of your knock? Would he be annoyed by the sound of your voice?

You cleared your throat before speaking, “Can I come in?” You asked through the door, feeling as though it was silly to be acting like this with your husband. You were having a conversation through a door. After not hearing an answer, you snatched the door knob in your palm and turned it, pulling the door wide open. 

Paul was stood by the desk in his chambers, hands fiddling with multiple, seemingly important, papers. He was dressed as he would normally be in his boldly coloured suit, the decorative sword hanging from his hip. He lacked his obnoxious wig though, his soft brown curls on display. 

Paul looked up almost immediately when you opened the door, raising a brow on his pale face, “Is there something I could be of assistance with?” He asked, clearly not feeling the need to have a casual conversation with you. It wasn’t shocking. 

You shook your head and clasped your hands just below your breasts as you took a few steps into his bed chambers, your heels clacking softly, “We just haven’t talked much, or at all, really.” You began, your voice a bit shaky with unsurety, “I wanted to confirm that I hadn’t done anything wrong, to anger you. It’s just- I find it strange…”

Paul placed a hand on his hip and held his papers loosely in one hand, staring at you. You were framed perfectly in the large doorway, causing him to hesitate before speaking, “You find what strange?” He inquired, “I don’t have time for silly games.” 

Your mouth gaped open for a moment, not entirely expecting the attitude that was radiating off of Paul’s figure, “I find it strange that we haven’t spent time together,” You admitted, shaking your head a bit, “And I don’t just mean having dinner together or drinking tea, you haven’t even…we haven’t…” You trailed off, hoping Paul would know what you were getting at. 

He let out a low groan and threw his papers on his desk, both hands on his hips now, “Use your words, woman.” He demanded.

Your face grew red, the embarrassment of what you were going to say rushing through you as though it was in your blood, “We haven’t consummated our wedding.” You stated simply, picking at your fingernails anxiously, “Why?”

Paul tilted his head to the side as he listened to you speak. This was the first time that you actually felt as though he was listening to you, looking at you, and of course it had to be the one time you mentioned sex, “So that’s what you want? To have sex?” He asked you. It almost sounded as though he was teasing you. Amused at your expense.

You shook your hand and breathed deep, causing your breasts to push against the neckline of your dress, “No,” You challenged, shaking your head, “Why did you marry me? Did you even want a wife? It feels as though you see me as nothing more than a stranger.” 

Paul took slow and steady steps towards you, but he kept a fair amount of distance, “Did I want a wife?” He asked, clarifying your question, “It doesn’t matter if I wanted a wife, does it? It is my duty to marry, and you are the one I married.”

You dropped your hands to your side, looking up at Paul's face, “I am nothing more than a duty?” You tested, letting the small amount of anger slip past your lips in a hiss, “That is not how a marriage works, Paul. Not how it should work. My duty is to give you an heir, so why haven’t you touched me? You haven’t even held my hand!”

Paul watched you as though you were a toddler throwing a tantrum, a brow cocked in amusement, “You are a fiery woman.” He stated simply, his eyes examining over your body swiftly, “Our marriage has no need to consist of those things, not until it is necessary.” 

You knitted your brows together, causing a crease to form between them, “Until it is necessary?” You repeated, shaking your head softly, “Without any care, you have subjected both of us to a life without love? Why won’t you try, Paul? Can you not see yourself loving me?”

Paul suddenly stepped closer to you, a gentle grasp making its way around your jaw. It wasn’t aggressive, not like how you would have expected from Paul, it was calm and soft, “Have I said that I do not love you?” He asked, his brown eyes gazing into yours for what felt like the first time. 

You shook your head and felt yourself shudder slightly under Paul’s touch, “You haven’t said that you do…” You whispered, your breath cascading over Paul's hand that held your jaw, “You do not act like you love me. You refused my gaze on our wedding night. You haven’t had a conversation with me that has been anything more than formalities. You sleep in the room right next to mine though you have yet to come visit me. You expect me to believe that you love me?” 

“You want that from me?” Paul inquired, moving his hand so he was cupping your cheek, “You want me to tell you how intimidated I was by your beauty? How I was sure you must have had a love back home, someone you were longing to hold again? How every night I dreamt of the way you looked in that white dress?”

You felt confusion invade your features, spilling itself across your forehead, “You dreamt of me?” You asked, your voice barely above a whisper. You saw the pure expression of admiration on Paul’s face, the way his eyes wandered over your sparse freckles, occasionally splitting down to your collarbone. 

“Everynight.” Paul repeated, nodding, “I believed you wouldn’t want me to touch you, or to even look at you. You were so beautiful at our wedding…Like an angel.” Paul's demeanour had seemed to switch swiftly from that of teasing and mockery, to pure longing. 

You reached up, letting your hand fit perfectly against Paul's jaw, your thumb stroking against his skin, “Why didn’t you just try?” You asked him, noticing the quick splash of fear in his eyes. 

“A forced marriage isn’t exactly a woman’s dream.” Paul joked, letting his hands mould onto the waist of your dress, bringing you closer to his body with a careful tug.

You couldn’t help but smile at his stupidity. He believed you wouldn’t want him? Had he seen himself? You tilted your head to the side, “Are you telling me that you do indeed love me?” You finally coaxed. 

Paul leaned into the touch of your hand, “Completely.” He whispered before leaning forward, securing your lips in a long awaited kiss. His lips were soft like silk as they moved against yours, his hands tightening themselves on your waist, “I’m sorry I left you waiting.” He apologized through kisses. 

Your stomach fluttered as his sudden display of longing, the way his hands grabbed at you as if you were his life line, “You’re here now.” You replied before slipping your hands to his jacket, pushing it down his shoulders so it hung at his elbows. 

“Eager.” Your husband spoke with a hint of playfulness, causing you to gently push his chest. Paul took off his jacket and let it hit the floor before slipping his hands to the back of your dress, his fingers playing out over the buttons that secured your bodice, “They make these as difficult as possible…” 

You looked up at Paul before turning around so your back was facing him. He lifted his hands to your neck, pushing away the stray strands of hair that had fallen from your bun. He leaned over you, placing a delicate kiss where your collarbone and shoulder meet. Paul worked his fingers down the row of buttons, swiftly getting them undone so he could push your bodice down. 

You blushed at the circumstances, feeling as though this was too much work, it would have been easier in your nightgown, “I should have visited you later tonight.” You whispered softly as another gentle kiss landed on the back of your neck, causing you to let out a content sigh. 

The cold air hit your chest, leaving goosebumps behind in its wake. You helped Paul push your bodice down your body, your skirt following. The material hit the wood floor, leaving you in your undergarment and heels. 

“No, now was the perfect time.” Paul responded, his breath moving across the back of your neck and along your shoulders. He placed his hands on your covered hips, the only thing separating his calloused hands from your soft skin being the thin material of cotton you wore. Paul pressed his chest to your back, pressing his lips to the spot just behind your ear, “You’re so beautiful…”

You turned in Paul's arms, looking up at him with those soft eyes he had fallen for the moment he saw you for the first time. You smiled sheepishly, “All I wanted was to be in your arms. To have you hold me.”

Paul raised a brow and looked down your body curiously, “That’s all?” He teased before taking your hand, leading you closer to his bed. He swiftly pushed your thighs against the edge of his mattress, causing you to fall back onto his bed, “I find it hard to believe that all you wanted was for me to hold you. You came in here raving about sex, surely that has to do with it as well, no?”

A tint of red quickly spread across your face as you rested on your elbows, allowing yourself to look at Paul from where he stood by your legs, “I…I was just confused…” You challenged nervously, shaking your head at the notion that what you wanted from him was sex. You wanted him, all of him. You wanted the longing gazes and the tantalizing touches. You wanted your fingers to be interlocked as you walked the halls of your home. 

Paul’s hands gripped one of your ankles before pulling off the heel that had been torturing your feet all day. His hot breath ran along your calf before he placed a clean kiss to your ankle, “Confused? Or curious?” He asked for clarification, but his tone held an underlying tinge of taunting. 

Your husband moved on to your other leg, taking off your painful shoe before placing a similar kiss to that ankle as well. He took his time to appreciate you, letting his undoubtedly hungry eyes scan your body similarly to the way he scanned boring documents. Paul snaked kisses along your calves, appreciating the silkiness of your skin.

Your eyes gazed at him, taking in his appearance. He looked like a painted portrait, the kind you would see in an age-old palace. The sun shining in from the windows illuminated his skin with a warm glow, his brown hair was effortlessly unstyled, and his bottom lip was pulled gently between his teeth as he focused his chocolatey brown eyes on your body. 

“Paul,” You started, your voice breathy and unsure, “I find it…unfair, that you are completely dressed.” You sucked in a deep breath, almost as though what you said was wrong, not something you were supposed to say. It was incredibly normalised for women to talk about how little they enjoyed their husbands touching them, how they simply let them get off as soon as possible, how they laid in the bed and let their husbands have their way, but you wanted to like it, love it even. 

Your husband didn’t attempt to hide the smirk that formed on his face at your discovery, “Well yes, you’re quite right.” He stated before gently letting your legs drop to the bed, his hands now sliding up the length of his torso. He started at his vest, unbuttoning it with delicate yet efficient fingers, throwing it to the floor once he was done. He was left in his cream undershirt and incredibly obnoxious green pants. Paul's hands slid under the hem of his pants though, pulling out his shirt so it was untucked. 

You craved him, the feeling growing in the pit of your stomach. You were aware of the intricacies of sex, not that you had ever experienced it, but spending your time as a rebellious young socialite had allowed you to hear some things along the way. 

You lifted yourself so you were sitting and moved closer to Paul, now kneeling on the mattress. Your hands lifted to the collar of his undershirt, playing with the frayed strings and loose stitching, “Do you want this?” You then inquired, letting your unsurety get the best of you, clouding your thoughts with unnecessary questions, “Do you want, or desire, to have sex with me?”

Paul’s eyes gaze down at you as though you were insane, his brows knitted across his forehead in a confused expression, “Do I want to? Darling, I’ve dreamt of this.” He admitted, his hand coming up to cup the side of your face. 

You instinctively leaned into his touch, looking at him through your lashes, “Then make your dream come to life…” You whispered, barely loud enough for either of you to hear, but Paul did, he heard you. 

And with that, he pressed his lips to yours in a passionate and hungry kiss, his other hand coming around your body, holding you close to him. The kiss alighted butterflies in your stomach, swirling angrily yet excitedly. Paul’s tongue along your bottom lip only made the feeling heavier, initiating a soft sigh to escape past your lips. Your tongues moved in sync, happily fighting as you tasted each other for the first time. 

Paul lifted your chemise, slowly pushing it up the length of your body, exposing your skin to the temperature of the room. You let him lift it over your head and immediately tucked your bottom lip between your teeth while he leaned back, taking you in. 

His eyes gazed at every inch of you, the whole of your body exposed to his longing eyes. He settled his hands on your hips, his rough fingers squeezing softly at your supple skin, “Even more beautiful than I had imagined…” He revealed, causing your heart to race. 

You moved your hands to Paul’s pants, unbuttoning them swiftly, “Take them off.” You commanded, earning a cheeky smile from your husband. He did as you said and took off his pants, sliding them down his legs before stepping out. His undershirt conveniently covered his groin, stopping at his mid thigh.  

Paul wrapped his arms around you and laid you on the bed, making sure to softly set your head on a pillow. He attached his lips to the column of your throat, leaving sloppy and wet splotches wherever he went. Paul neared your ear, his hot breath causing your body to shiver, “I like when you’re bossy.” He whispered, his words throaty. 

You moaned out as he nipped at your ear lobe, shifting his hips in between your legs. You could feel his growing erection as it pressed against your cunt, the wetness of your arousal spreading onto the length of it, “Paul…” You shuddered, his lips attacking your collarbone. 

He just hummed and moved his lips down your body, coming to your breasts. Paul sucked on the base of your breast before slowly taking your nipple into his mouth. He looked up at you with those beautiful brown eyes while continuing to assault your breast with his tongue. 

You moved a hand to his hair while your other rested on his shoulder, your fingertips digging into his skin, “Ah, fuck…” You moaned out, your eyes fluttering closed as your back arched. Paul swirled his tongue around your nipple, lightly nipping at it occasionally, eliciting gasps from your throat. 

“Open your eyes my love, look at me.” Paul urged, reaching the hand that wasn’t playing with your other breast, setting it on your jaw. He swiped his thumb along your bottom lip before pushing it past your parted lips, “Suck.”

You immediately did as he said, wrapping your lips around his thumb, swirling your tongue along the tip of it while he tended to your other breast. Your moaning was muffled into hums as you watched Paul, his cheeks caving slightly while his lips secured themselves around your nipple. 

Paul placed a kiss in the middle of your chest and placed both of his hands under your knees, pushing your thighs closer to your torso as his plump lips moved closer to your clit. 

You gasped softly as the realization hit you, the realization of what Paul was going to do, “You don’t have to…” Your shaky voice offered. You knew men didn’t attend to their wives needs, just got on with what they wanted and finished quickly. Surely Paul was the same. 

Paul looked into your eyes from where his lips were connected just under your belly button, “Have to?” He asked, cocking an eyebrow before moving lower, his lips just above your clit, “No baby, I want to.” And with that, he placed a small kiss to your clit, a gasp immediately passing your lips. 

You tangled your fingers into his brown curls, “Yes, yes…” You moaned as Paul flicked his tongue out, lapping at your clit hungrily. He was acting as though you were his life source, as though if he didn’t please you as much as he could, he would surely turn to dust. 

Paul sucked on your clit before moving his mouth down, pushing his tongue in between the folds of your pussy, happily cleaning up any of the arousal that was lingering at your entrance. He left one hand on your thigh while the other moved to your pubic bone. Paul flicked his thumb against your clit, causing you to arch your back. 

“You are so pretty,” Paul started, his breath running over the sensitive skin between your legs, “I love hearing you moan.” 

You smiled lazily at his words and connected your eyes with his, “You’re so good.” You praised, earning a smirk from your husband. 

Paul played with your clit slowly before lowering his hand, pressing the tip of his middle finger to your entrance, “I can be better. I wanna hear you moan my name.” His middle finger pushed all of the way into you, his index and ring finger pressed against the lips of your cunt. 

You gasped and threw your head back at the unfamiliar feeling. You had never had anything inside of you, and you had never expected it to feel this good. You looked back down at Paul and moaned at the grin he had on his face, watching you revel in the way he could make you feel, “Paul, please.” You moaned. 

Paul slowly pulled his finger out so only the tip of it was inside you, “Please what?” He asked, the power of making you feel good getting to his head, “You have to tell me what you want me to do.” His request made you whine, feeling embarrassed at the thought of saying what it was you truly wanted. 

“I want you. I want you to make me feel good, please.” You begged, your voice going up an octave to Paul’s delight. He slowly pushed his finger back into your sopping cunt, feeling the way you welcomed him and pulled him in. Paul began his torment, pushing his finger in and out of you at a slow pace, “Faster.”

Paul kept his pace, refusing your request all while pushing in his ring finger. You arched your back and gasped, your breath shuddering at the feeling, “Ask properly. Use your manners.” 

Paul’s attitude made you even more aroused. The way he demanded things from you while he pleased you in a way no other man could. You could just tell, he fucking loved the way he was making you feel, “Please go faster.” You finally breathed out, your breath turning to a moan as Paul quickened his pace. 

A knot started to build in your stomach at the pace of his fingers, the way he curled them inside of you, the way he pressed gentle kisses to your clit. Paul flattened his tongue against your clit, causing you to pull his head closer if that was even possible. His fingers sped up on their own, his lips wrapped around your clit as they sucked harshly. 

“Come on my love,” Paul spoke softly, feeling the way your walls clenched around his fingers. He could tell you were close, just by the way you moved your hips against his hand and whispered his name, “Cum for me.”

You did just as he asked and moaned out loudly while your body shuddered, cumming all over his fingers, “Yes, Paul!” You called out, tugging at his chocolate curls. You panted, your legs shaking as Paul pulled his fingers out of you, slipping them into his mouth, “Fuck.”

Paul smirked and watched your reaction to his actions, slowly crawling up your body until his face was hovering over yours, “Such a filthy mouth.” He teased before leaning down, securing your lips in a short but sweet kiss, “You want me?” Paul asked and pulled the hem of his shirt over his head, throwing the fabric to the floor. 

His body was finally revealed to you, his toned chest and abdomen, the trail of brown hair that led to his erect cock. It was huge, definitely bigger than you had expected. You hadn’t ever seen a man's dick, so you didn’t know what to expect, but this…this was something else.

As if sensing your concern at his size, Paul placed a hand on the side of your face, making you look at him, “We will go slow.” He assured, his eyes scanning your face for any sign of doubt, anything that told him you no longer wanted him, “Tell me to stop and I will.” 

You shook your head, wrapping your arms around his neck. You pulled him in for a kiss, your brows furrowing at the pure admiration you felt, “I want you,” You told him, your tone full of surety, “Don’t you want me to…well…” You trailed off as your face grew hot, turning beet red. 

Paul looked down at you with a confused expression before understanding what you were saying. He smirked at the embarrassment evident on your face, finding it cute, “Do I want you to blow me?” He asked, his assumption being confirmed as you shyly nodded, “No, no. Today is about you.”

You gazed at the man hovering over you, feeling love filling your chest. He just wanted to make you feel good. He didn’t care about receiving anything. You felt as though Paul was truly the most perfect man, fighting all of the judgements you had made about him. He wanted you to be happy, that was the exact reason he had avoided you all along. He never believed he could be the reason for your happiness. 

You kissed him swiftly and cupped his face in your hands, attempting to pour all of the love you felt for him into that one kiss. Paul kissed you back, one hand holding himself up while the other settled on a comfortable spot on your waist. 

“Show me.” You breathed, shifting slightly underneath Paul, making sure that you were comfortable. 

You felt Paul’s confused look on you, “Show you what?”

You smiled and ran your thumbs along his cheeks lovingly, “Show me you love me.” You requested, moving your legs so they were wrapped around Paul’s waist. 

Paul’s expression turned to that of blissful happiness before pressing a kiss to your lips. He reached between the two of you, swiping his thumb along your clit. His mind became cloudy with lust as you moaned into his mouth. 

You looked down as you felt Paul push the head of his cock against your entrance, “Tell me if you need me to stop.” He spoke from above you before swiftly sliding the head of his erection into you. 

You gasped at the feeling, the way your walls immediately tightened around him, leaving you with a burning feeling as he slid deeper into you. You were about to tell him to stop, to give you a moment, until you heard the groan that came from Paul’s throat. It awakened this need inside you, the need to hear it again. 

You slipped your hands around his waist, pulling him closer to you, “Please,” You whispered, turning your gaze up to him, “I want to feel all of you.” 

Paul obliged and pushed himself into you, as far as he could go until his balls were pressed against your ass. He rested his face in the crook of your neck, breathing heavily, “You feel so goddamn good,” He shuddered, pressing a sloppy kiss to the side of your neck. 

He gave you a moment to get used to his size as you let out shaky breaths. The pain of him soon turned to pleasure and you pushed at his chest, “I’m okay, please,” You nodded, gulping as you looked down where you two were joined together, “Love me, Paul.”

Paul readjusted how he was sitting. He knelt on his knees and placed his hands on your hips, beginning to slowly move back and forth, taking his time with you. He let out a shaky moan as he sped up a bit, “God, you are so good.” He whispered, looking at your face as he thrusted into you. 

You moaned, reaching out so you could take one of the hands he had on your hips. You interlocked your fingers while your other hand gripped the sheets on his bed, “Paul,” You felt another climax building already, so quickly after your last orgasm.

Your husband started to pound into you, the sound of your bodies connecting echoed throughout the room. He lifted your interlocked hand to the space next to your face, holding your hands there as he gripped your hip with his other hand. The tips of his fingers dug into the skin on your hip, just causing you to moan even louder than you had been before.

Paul threw his head back as his pace sped up, “You’re so beautiful,” He started, his words coming out as a moan, “You feel so good around my cock. Perfect.” 

His words made your body flush and your back arch, your belly knotting once again, “I’m gonna cum, Paul…” You whispered out, embarrassed at how easily he made you feel good. 

“Yeah? You’re gonna cum from my cock?” He asked, moving his eyes to where you connected, a growl escaping his throat, “You look so pretty when you cum.” 

Paul’s words caused you to gasp, gripping his hand tighter as your legs shook, the orgasm taking over your body. Your husband just continued to pound into you, groans filling the air around you. His own orgasm was building quickly, his hips moving inconsistently while thrusting into you. 

“Fuck, yes,” Paul moaned as he pushed all of his length into you, releasing his cum inside of you. White streams flowing inside of you. He leaned down and placed a slow kiss to your lips, both of you breathing heavily, “You were so good, my love.” 

Paul soon pulled out of you and rolled onto his back next to you, lifting an arm to rest behind his head. He turned his gaze to you, taking in your appearance. How strands of your hair stuck to your neck, how your body gleamed with a thin sheet of sweat, how your hands rested on your stomach. 

“Come here,” Paul suggested before slipping his arm around your torso, pulling you to him. You intertwined your legs, his cock pressed softly against your thigh while your arm wrapped around his waist, your head resting on his chest, “Sleep my love, we’ll have an early breakfast tomorrow. Go for a walk around the garden.”

You looked up at him, a content smile spreading across your lips, “Together?”

Paul nodded, placing a kiss on your forehead, “Together.”

[samblackblog]

Good girls don't get what they want

⎔ MASTERLIST ⎔ REQUESTS ⎔ TWILIGHT ⎔

Word Count: 1.1k

Warnings: smut, female pleasuring,

A/N: enjoy. Let me know if you'd like another part to this. That cheeky grin above, that’s what I imagine he’d tease you with

Part 2 →

———

You wake alone in a cold bed, the crisp morning air turning your breath into steamy tendrils that cascade across the surface of the pillow. Slowly you force your eyes open as an outstretched arm traces the space next to you seeking a sign of his presence. The sheets are stone cold, any trace of him long gone. 

Despite the cold you move quickly as you drag yourself from the bed, almost instantly your nipples harden as they’re exposed. Goosebumps grace your thighs as you grab the dressing gown that had been flung last night and wrap it tightly around your naked form. 

Although the morning light had breached the curtains and bathed the room in glorious light, the hallway beyond the bedroom was still in pitch blackness. Your eyes snap to the open doorway as the creak of floorboards resonates from the dark. The beat of your heart thrums in your ears and your voice sticks in your throat. Slowly you take a step backward. A familiar shape enters the doorway causing your heart to beat even faster, but not from fear. 

“You scared me” you whisper as he crosses the room and pulls you into his embrace, arms wrapping around your waist as he holds you flush to him. His face finds its way to the crook of your neck, he inhales deeply, savouring the way you smell. His lips plant a trail of kisses to your jawline, before finding yours that are still plump from last night. Gently his hands caress your sides and come to rest on your hips. He pays attention to the soft delicate moans that escape your mouth as he moves one under the hem of the dressing gown and up your thigh. Suddenly both hands find their way beneath the material and settle on your arse as he lifts you effortlessly and carries you back to the bed, your legs wrapped around his waist. He places you down gently and comes to a kneel between your legs, hands having a firm grip on your knees as he sucks in a deep breath. You were a gorgeous sight to behold, still a little sleepy and all dishevelled from the previous night. The dressing gown had ridden up exposing the majority of yourself to him. A pink flush graces your cheeks as your eyes roam his body. Despite the chilly temperatures he’s in shorts only, they hug his hips perfectly, revealing chiselled abs and a deep cutting v line. You notice a slight sheen of sweat glistening over his chest, or was it rain? You know he’d been out for an early morning run along the territory lines. 

All thoughts are abandoned as he glides his hands down your thighs, your nipples once again hardening beneath the gown. Tenderly he places kisses down your thigh as his hands wrap around the back with his palms splayed flat on your hips to stop you squirming away. Shakily you let out a breath in anticipation, not knowing how long you’d last after last night. A whine escapes your lips as you become increasingly frustrated at Paul’s slow pace, you feel him smile against your thigh before his mouth lightly makes contact at the apex, his day-old stubble scratching sensually over your most sensitive area. Slowly he runs his tongue along your slit, humming in delight at how you taste. You let out a small chuckle at his reaction which he cuts short by making you gasp from his tongue coming into contact with your clit. He starts off slowly, tracing circles over and over while picking up the tempo. Your head rolls to the side as your eyes close, the moans escaping you are music to his ears. Just as you think you’re going to climax Paul switches up the direction he works in, repeating this every time you're close. He enjoys teasing you and watching as you unravel. 

“Paul, please” you whisper through moans, preying he might finally be done tormenting you. Your thighs tighten around his head as he continues his mission, going in clockwise circles. The built up pressure becomes too much, your hands shooting down to squeeze his at your hips. As soon as you’ve done that, one of his untangles from yours. You feel his fingers at your entrance and then push inside you slowly. Only one to start but a second soon follows, pumping in and out of you. He starts curling his fingers, which along with his tongue, sends you into one hell of an orgasm. He eyes you greedily from his position between your legs, watching as your face contorts in ecstasy. Reaching up, he skillfully unties the knot of the dressing gown and exposes the body he loves. Planting soft kisses, he works his way up your tummy leaving a trail of your juices behind and stops when reaching your breasts to pay them some attention. You let out a little customary giggle as you come down from your high, your hands weaving into his hair as he takes a nipple between his teeth. 

“Ow!” you suck in a sharp breath, you enjoy a little roughness but it always takes you by surprise. A wicked grin spreads over his irresistible lips as he looms above you, you bring him closer for a kiss as your hands travel down his chest, feeling his perfectly sculpted muscles. A groan escapes Paul as he grabs your wrists to stop your hands going further down. You whine in disapproval. You can feel his rock hard erection against your leg and you want it. The thought of pleasing him turns you on again and builds tension in your core. 

“God you’ll be the death of me,” he says through gritted teeth. You know he’s fighting the urge to fuck you so you flutter your eye lashes. 

“Don’t you want to feel how warm and wet I am for -” his hand clamps down on your mouth as he involuntarily lets out a shuddery breath. His weight shifts over you, as he comes even closer, pushing you further into the mattress. One hand still restrains yours as the other keeps you quiet - one more dirty comment from you would dissolve his restraint. His mouth hungrily starts attacking your neck, sucking on the same spot until a red bruise marks the skin. He admires the mark for a few seconds before leaning into your ear.

“We have a brunch date, remember?” he whispers seductively. Your eyes roll back in annoyance at the brunch date, wanting to stay here and finish what he started. “If you’re a good girl, I’ll give you what you want later.”

Good god this man knows exactly how to pull your strings, but fortunately for you, it works both ways. After the events of this morning, you have no intention of being a good girl. After all, good girls don't get what they want.

[my-tin-can-mans]

Strange Hearts, Part 3 The Wedding

Leto x Reader

Part 1 Part 2

Strange Hearts Spotify Playlist

Summary: When an arranged marriage brings you to Caladan, you find that another man piques your interest

Disclaimer: I thought of this while fic and started writing under the impression Paul was in his early to mid-'20s like Timothy. So for the sake of this story he and the reader are both in their twenties. Sorry for any inaccuracies, I've only watched the movie and really only paid attention to Oscar lmao.

Warnings: A little bit of angst. Unwanted Marriage? technically love triangle/affair.

The wedding gown was gorgeous, much to your dismay. The white gown was draped in lace and beads, flowing all the way down to the floor. It hung around your frame perfectly and made you look like an image of elegance.

The sunlight dipping in from the windows in your room shined down on the beads and jewelry you wore. The small crown you wore gleamed in it, and if it weren't for the nerves bubbling all over you, you would’ve been enraptured by it.

As you stood there staring at yourself in front of the mirror, maids and servants running around you, fixing every minor detail, you fell frozen. You were about to be married, and the only man on your mind happened not to be your future husband.

The thought of what was to come made your head spin.

“Your grace, are you okay? You look a bit pale.” the voice came from behind you, and if it weren't for its bluntness, you wouldn’t have known it was Theresa. Every sound that you could hear came in muffled.

She came to stand in front of you, blocking you off from the mirror. She placed her hand on your shoulders to steady you, “deep breaths, your grace.” the breath you drew in a while mimicking her was shaky. You breathed a few more times with her, but nothing changed.

“Okay,” she said, “I’ll be back. I'm going to go get you some water. Why don’t you sit down, for now, your grace?” she led you over to the plush chair in your room.

Theresa disappeared from your site, and when you lifted your head to look around the room, no one else attention was on you. Of course, now that you were in the gown with your hair and makeup done, there wasn't much else for anyone to fuss over you for, which meant only a few people left in your room, too distracted from cleaning up the vanity to notice your presence very well.

You stood up and swiftly walked out of the room, your legs moving before your brain could even register it. Walking down the halls, you came across a door you knew to be the Duke's quarters. You knocked once, praying no one else would be in the room with him. Of course, you could always play it off as being lost if there was. You didn't even know how to get to the dining hall by yourself.

After a few silent moments, the door was swung open, Leto standing on the other side dressed in his uniform. As he looked up at you, he was doing the last button of the jacket.

When he registered who had knocked at his door, he grabbed your arm, pulling you into the room, “What are you doing here?” he said as he closed the door turning around, “someone could've seen you, did you make sure none of the maids followed you?” he placed his hands on your shoulders looking into your eyes, worried laced his own along with the familiar sternness of a ruler.

Worry filled your gut. You hadn’t checked to see if anyone had followed you. Your mind had been a raging storm all morning, so much so that it had started to make your stomach churn. You didn’t think about the consequences of coming to see him right now. You just knew his presence would calm you. Whether that was your feelings for him or the fact that he had been your steady constant to rely on in all of this uncertainty. He was there for you that first night when you arrived. He was there for you when you finally broke down with confusing emotions. He was a reminder that there were still people who cared about your feelings in this, that wanted to help you through this, while it felt like everyone else treated you as a placeholder, that you were an object and could've been anyone else. Because in reality, this wedding wasn't about you. It was about the alliances of two houses, to reconnect a bond and strengthen each other. This was a political strategy, and while the Duke should've been the head of it, he was the one you had turned to console in.

While he may be a duke and made strategies for his house, he was also a pawn in grander schemes. You both knew this. He also held compassion for you, which was something that tugged on your heart.

You stood there frozen, not knowing what to say to him. He sighed. “Well, no one else has come running after you yet, so I'm assuming no one saw you.”

He let go of you. You mutter a small weak sorry, which you were sure were the first words you had spoken to anyone today. He took a step back, taking you in, “sweet girl.” he breathed, “you look stunning.”

A small tear slipped down your face at his words. You wished he was saying them to any other occasion. “Hey hey, it's okay, don't cry.” he took you into his arms, tucking you under his chin and wrapping his arms around you. “C’mon now. This is supposed to be a joyous occasion.”

You let out a sob. This was anything but a joyous occasion. “I'm sorry, I'm sorry that wasn’t the right thing to say.” he took his hand to run through your hair, “listen, I know this isn't what you wanted, but what you're doing here, sacrificing your wants for your house, it's a noble thing. You should be proud.”

His pep talk didn't do anything to calm your nerves. You continued to sob into his shoulder. Finally, he slowly brought you to his bed. Sitting down, he brought you back to him again. While you continued to cry, he shushed you and ran his fingers through your hair.

When you had finally settled yourself, you pulled back a little. “I'm sorry,” you said in a shaky breath, “this morning was just a lot,”

“It's okay sweet girl, I know, but you need to keep your head held high, today is going to be a lot, and I can't be with you through every step.”

You nodded, taking in his words. He was right. Unfortunately, this was just the beginning of the day. The real struggle had yet to come.

He leaned his forehead against yours, closing his eyes, and you mirrored his action. A comfortable silence rang throughout the room, probably the last moment you would get today. You knew that in a few moments, you needed to leave. Someone would figure out you were missing if they haven't already, and it would be nearly impossible to sneak out unnoticed. You were reasonably easy to spot, all-white dress, jewels, and lace glimmering in the dull sunlight seeping in through the castle's windows.

Just as you were taking a deep breath to steady yourself as you prepared to pull away, the door to Leto’s room swung open with a force that caused you to jump back in surprise. “My Lord, the princess is-” the man at the door trailed off upon fully taking into view what he had stepped into. His mouth hung open as he looked between the two of you while you stared at him, frozen in place. Upon everything else that could possibly happen today, this was the worst.

You were too scared to look at Leto and gauge his reaction. Bile started to rise in the pit of your stomach as the room felt like it was beginning to spin.

Just as you felt as if you might pass out, you saw Leto move from the corner of your eye, he stood up from his bed, walking towards the man, “Duncan, close the door,” he said to the man who had barged in, the man, Duncan you presumed was his name, didn’t move, frozen in place as you were when his eyes had first lied upon you. “Now,” Leto’s voice was solid and hard, the voice of the Duke, not Leto.

Slowly, Duncan reached behind him to close the door to the chambers of Leto’s private quarters. The duke approached him and placed his hand on his shoulders. “Listen to me, whatever you think you saw, you did not. Do you understand?” the Duke urged him.

He still didn't speak, only nodded to show that he did, in fact, understand. “Duncan, you're one of my best men. I trust that you will keep your word to me.”

Duncan nodded again, still not speaking. You couldn't tell if he was genuinely shocked or if he was scared of the Duke. Judging by his appearance, you were sure Duncan worked closely with the duke, whether that meant that he knew him well, as Leto, or if he knew him well as the duke, you weren't sure.

Leto turned to you now, walking towards you and grabbing your arm to pull you up, walking you over to the man that now stood, unwavering by the door, “I presume they know your missing and have many people looking for you at the moment,” Leto stated, turning his attention to Duncan, “Is anyone else searching for her in this hallway?” Duncan shook his head, “good. So you are to take her back to her quarters. If anyone asks, she took a walk to calm her nerves and got lost. You found her wandering the corridors and offered to escort her back, do you both understand.”

His words suggested that he was asking a question to the both of you, but it was more of a statement. You didn't have room to argue with him, neither did Duncan.

You nodded and so did Duncan, taking your arm, “of course my Duke.” he said opening the door and leading you out of it.

The silence that hung in the air on the way back to your own quarters was heavy. A man that you hadn’t even formally been introduced to now knew a secret that was too deep.

“Princess,” he turned his head to look at you as he guide you down the hallway, “you have no reason to trust me or I, you, but believe me when I say, I have no intention of telling anyone whatever it was I saw. I am loyal to the duke.”

You nodded, thanking god that you had made it back to your quarters in time to not have to talk anymore. As he opened the door and stepped in with you, Theresa who happened to be pacing back and forth met your eyes, “oh thank god!” she cried, “where the hell did you go! You can’t run off like that your grace.” she rushed to you.

“She was just taking a walk to calm her nerves, got lost in the winding hallways,” Duncan explained.

Theresa turned to him after ushering you back into the chair she had you sitting in before you ran off. “Thank you, Duncan.”

You sat in the chair letting the dull ache of your head take over for the moment while you waited to be ushered to the next thing.

__________________

The hall was decorated beautifully. White and champagne-colored drapes lined the windows in the ballroom you were currently sitting in. Everywhere you turned, there seemed to be a bouquet of flowers and lights. A row of tables sat at the head of the ballroom where you and Paul sat. Paul was to the left of you with his mother and father seated beside him. Currently, only Jessica remained there. Leto was somewhere else in the grand room, saying something about having to mingle with other diplomats from visiting worlds.

To the left of you was an empty chair. You weren’t surprised your father didn’t show up. This was purely a business transaction for him. He had no interest in celebrating that. After the empty chair sat Duncan, Paul’s best man, you hadn’t had any bridesmaids, and if it weren't for the fact that Duncan was also one of Leto’s right-hand men and was there to pose more as a security for the two of you, you were sure Paul wouldn’t have had any groomsmen either. It's not that the two of you didn’t have friends, you had had some in your homeworld, but it’s not like they could travel all the way here for an arranged marriage. You were sure Paul had other people he held near to him. It’s was just that, though, a business arrangement.

That was what you had ended up calling it now, hoping it would stop the guilt that was eating at the back of your head. Every time you looked at Paul, all you saw was Leto. and it felt like someone was whispering in your ear guilty guilty guilty. And when you were up there, not even an hour ago vowing to be his forever, all you could think of was how good Leto felt against you. How warm and safe he had made you feel earlier today. That when he told you it would all be okay, you truly hoped he meant it.

The room was lively. A continuous buzz rang in your ear from everyone talking and dancing. It felt odd, honestly, to celebrate this. But, in another bizarre way, it felt nice. It made it a little more natural. When you were young and naive, you always dreamed you would marry the man of your dreams and get to have a big wedding full of people laughing and dancing, at least the latter of that dream had come true. And you could make do with the man you married. Paul was still kind. At least you weren’t vowed to some complete asshole.

The only thing is you were kind of getting antsy. Paul hadn’t moved from his seat all night. He talked to anyone that came up to the two of you, but that was about it. You couldn't blame him, really. You didn't know what to do with yourself either. But you loved dancing. It didn’t matter who you were with. You were hoping he would’ve asked you by now, maybe break the tension slightly. It was a tradition after for the bride and groom to dance at their own reception. Perhaps that wasn't a thing here on Caladan. After all, this wasn't a traditional wedding anyway, a fact that had to keep repeating in your mind.

You sighed, sinking into your seat a little more. You were sure by the end of the night, the chair would consume you. You took another glance around the room, taking a sip of your champagne when your eyes landed on Duncan sitting off to the side of you. He’d been there a majority of the night. You were sure he had orders to keep an eye on you and Paul for security. But this time, he caught you off guard. He was staring right at you with a perplexed look on his face. It made heat rise in your up to your face and your heart hammer. You had been so emotional today with everything going on you almost forgot that he knew now. That you and Leto had a relationship that was more than just Paul. The champagne you had in your mouth went down hard, feeling a sense of fear in you. Duncan was one of Leto’s men. You had nothing to worry about, right? But you were also sure he was pretty close with Paul, and you didn’t know him. Was he loyal to his Duke, or was he dedicated to his son, with who he seemed to be close with?

The thought vanished from your mind when you heard your name uttered for the first time since your vows. When you turned to look back in front of you, Leto stood there. “I apologize for my son. I’m afraid he hasn’t ever been to a wedding before, so he’s not quite sure what to do as the groom now.” he chuckled, looking at Paul.

When you turned to look at him, he was looking down bashfully at his lap. Amusement rose in you at the teasing, and Jessica patted his back to console him. Finally, Leto cleared his throat, and your attention was on him again, “I do believe it is your wedding and since you have yet to dance yet, what type of host would I be without offering.” he held his hand out to you.

Your heart started to hammer in your chest. Wasn’t this a little outward? You had feelings for him, and you were sure it would be evident on your face if you two danced together. Sure he was just being polite. You sat there all night, sulking over the fact that everyone in front of you was celebrating while it felt like you were mourning. You deserved a dance. But wasn’t it odd that you would be dancing with him instead of your new husband? You turned to look at Paul, questioning him if he also thought this was weird. He nodded at you when you met his face, a smile on his lips. This was obviously not so out of the blue to him. Leto was his father and the Duke. So, of course, he would want to be kind to you.

You turned back the Duke and politely accepted, placing your hand in his as you sat up from the seat. As you walked from around the table, your hand had slipped from his, avoiding hitting anyone else. When you walked past Duncan, his eyes followed you, a knowing look on his face, and you seconded guess the decision of saying yes to Leto. When you looked up at Leto again though his face was calm and collected, he obviously didn’t see Duncan as a threat. He would’ve done something about it by now, right? And he certainly wouldn’t ask you to dance with him if he thought it would compromise anything.

As you rounded the table, you took a steadying breath. This was the Leto who you had feelings with, who took your virginity and held you afterward. This was the Duke, the host of your and his son’s wedding, who was just trying to be polite, make you feel welcome as part of the family now.

You retook his hand when the table no longer separated the two of you. Walking out to the dance floor, a song was just ending, and another one picked up. Leto smirked at you, “This song used to be my favorite when I was younger.”

You smiled at him while he took your waist to start dancing, “I bet the girls used to line up to dance with you.” you teased him.

“Maybe,” he, it twirled you around the room.

A comfortable silence fell between you two, and you danced through the ballroom, the need for small talk not present. Leto hummed the song as you went and dipping and swaying you. It put you into a calming trance. To be so close and in his presence seeing him so calm and relaxed.

When the song started to end, he twirled you once and dipped you as the last chord rang through the ballroom.

The smile you gave him felt genuine for the first time that day, and when you were standing straight again, you were aware of your surroundings and the many sets of eyes on the two of you.

You separated from him quickly as you looked around the room. Your eyes landed on Duncan again, heartbeat increasing with the knowing look on his face.

“Thank you, my Duke, but I think I should return to my husband.”

The smile that was on his face vanished into a serious one. He again took on the role of the duke and not Leto. “of course,” he nodded.

Your face felt very heated as you walked away to return to your seat. So many sets of eyes were still on you as you glanced around the room.

Your eyes landed on Paul halfway back. He was looking at you, but not in the same manner that Duncan had been. Instead, he seemed calmed and relaxed, a soft smile on his face as he looked upon you.

You returned to your seat, continuing to let the chair consume you as you watched the celebration resume. Time felt still in the short few minutes you danced with Leto, now the room kept on, advancing through the night as you sat there, being still replaying the few moments before you sat down in repeat in your head.

[imnotoverlyobsessive]

Confessions of an Imperial Concubine

Epilogue

AO3 Author’s note/glossary/info one two three four five six seven eight nine ten eleven epilogue

All my work is 18+.

Oh, I’m obsessed with the way your head is laying on my chest, how you love the things I hate about myself that no one knows. But with you, I see hope again. Oh, I’m a mess. When I overthink the little things in my head, you always seem to help me catch my breath. But then I lose it again. When I look at you, that’s the end. Why do I get so nervous when I look into your eyes? Butterflies can’t stop me falling for you. And darling, this is more than anything I felt before; you’re everything that I want, but didn’t think I’d find.- Clinton Kane, I GUESS I’M IN LOVE

Leto was born in the early hours of a cold winter morning. Sera was very glad of this indeed, because she was past the nine month mark by that point, and was therefore sweating nonstop regardless of the temperature outside.

Labor was long and incredibly painful, and Paul had worried over her so much that she’d eventually told him to go away, since her situation was his fault to begin with. At the end of it, though, their son was born, and he had the face she’d hated so much when she first saw his father.

Paul gave her two months of rest before he started asking about their wedding. It was another month before her gown was ready. For her wedding dress, she and the dressmaker had agreed on a gown made of dark blue velvet with gemstones stitched into the fabric so that it looked as if she was wearing the night sky. Her crown looked like a halo arching above her head, and there were sapphires embedded in the silver.

They nearly didn’t get through the wedding ceremony before Paul was kissing her like his life depended on it. Her family hadn’t yet seen her interact with her new husband, so they were too shocked to speak up. Lucia, however, was not afraid to clear her throat pointedly, which brought Sera back to her senses enough to pull herself away.

Being Empress was something she had difficulty learning how to do, but Paul was patient with her, and even got her tutors so she could better understand her new position.

“So,” Lucia said as she slid up to Sera on her way to take Leto for a visit with his sisters, “how’s it feel to be out of concubine dresses?”

Sera glanced down at her body, where Leto was clutching the neckline of the dress she wore. “Strange,” she admitted. “I suppose I’m about as… covered, as I had been before I left home, but after having so much of my body bare for so long, it feels odd.”

Lucia laughed. “That’s understandable.” Then, after a moment, “So… I wanted to tell you that I’m going home.”

Sera stopped in her tracks and turned to her friend. “W— what?”

“I’m going home,” Lucia repeated. “I’m not Kept anymore, there’s no reason for me to stay.” She must’ve seen the look on Sera’s face, because she added, “Oh, come on! I’m only a few planets over, it’s not a long trip! I can visit whenever you want. Or whenever I want, for that matter. Being Kept for a few years set me up for life.”

“Okay,” Sera acquiesced, resuming her pace towards the girls’ nursery. She knew Paul was already there. “It’ll feel weird without you here, though.”

“Eh,” Lucia waved her off. “You’ve got your new husband and your family.” She poked Leto’s cheek, making him giggle. “You’ll be fine.”

“I’ll miss you,” Sera admitted, feeling emotional.

Lucia grinned. “I’ll miss you, too. But like I said, I’ll visit all the time.”

Sera smiled back at her as they reached their destination and pushed the doors open.

Fourteen Years Later

Sera sighed, shutting the door to the nursery that was in her and Paul’s suite of rooms.

“He asleep?” her husband asked from his spot on their bed.

She nodded. “Took him long enough.”

Paul smiled at her as she settled in beside him. “You’re such a wonderful mother.” He pulled her close and went to kiss her, but she put a gentle hand on his chest and pushed him back from her.

He frowned. This was fair; it was a rare occurrence indeed when she refused him.

“Don’t start with that again,” she said firmly.

“Start what?” he asked, all innocence.

“I told you, I’m done having babies. You want me, you have to pull out.” He pouted, and while that was what had gotten her to cave previously, she forced herself to hold firm. “Paul Atreides, don’t you pout at me. You are forty years old, and child number ten is just through those doors.” She pointed at the doors to the nursery to emphasize her point. “Pull. Out.”

He stopped pouting, choosing to frown instead. “You really don’t want any more?”

“Right now? No, I don’t.” 

“Okay,” he sighed. “If that’s what you want.”

“It is,” she confirmed. “Duncan’s the last one.”

Paul conceded and did as she requested that evening.

Two and a half Years Later

Sera was in the palace library when Paul found her.

“And what are you doing in here, my beloved?” he asked, wrapping his arms around her waist and kissing her neck. “Are the books in our personal collection not enough?”

“I’ve worked through most of them,” Sera admitted, leaning into his touch.

“Well,” he murmured, continuing to kiss her neck, “whatever my wife wants, she’ll have.”

Smiling, Sera set the book she was holding down on a nearby table and turned around in his arms.

Paul trailed his hands from her waist down to her hips, squeezing her body through the fabric of her dress as he went.

“You know,” he told her quietly, gazing into her now blue eyes, “it’s strange to see your eyes any color other than green. I’m glad they are, though. Means I get to keep you for a long, long time.” He squeezed her hips for emphasis, and she shifted her body closer to him.

“Didn’t yours used to be green, too?” she recalled.

“They did,” he agreed, “but they were never quite like yours. Yours were this incredible dark green. Too dark, almost, to tell they were green at all. Made me feel like it was just for me.”

She looped her hands around his neck. “Everything about me is just for you, Paul.”

His hands tightened on her hips again, his fingers digging into the fabric of her dress. “I want you,” he told her urgently. “I want you now.”

“Is that so?” she breathed, trailing one of her hands down his chest, feeling the steady thud of his heart beneath her palm, though its beating had sped up with—she assumed—the rush of wanting her. “What are you planning on doing?” she wanted to know. “Hiking my dress up over my thighs, bending me over the table, spreading my legs and fucking me until I can’t walk? Is that what you’re planning on doing?”

“Yes,” he growled. “That’s exactly what I’m planning on doing.”

He was leaning down to kiss her, his hands already moving with the intent to lift the skirts of her dress when they heard footsteps rounding a corner.

“Eugh!” exclaimed seventeen-year-old Leto when he caught sight of them. They parted, and Sera took note of Paul positioning his body so that his desire for her wasn’t visible. “Gross! This is why I have so many siblings.” He shot them a disgusted look before shaking his head, his hair falling in his face in a way that was so very much like his father it was downright alarming. “If you’ll excuse me, I need to go wash my eyeballs now. You two should really go to your room for that sort of thing.” With that, their son left in a rush.

There was silence for a few seconds before the pair burst into sputtering laughter. He took her hand, threading their fingers together and lifting their joined hands up to press a kiss to her knuckles. 

Paul was grinning down at her with laughter still in his eyes when he asked, “Shall we take his suggestion, my beloved wife?”

Sera smiled back up at him. “Lead the way, husband of mine.”

He did, and fully intended to pull out as per usual. He didn’t manage it quite soon enough, however, and the result of this misstep was born nine months later.

It was then that she informed Paul that he’d better not make any such mistakes again if he wanted to keep all his body parts attached to him. There were no further mishaps after this.

Sera sometimes wondered what direction her life might’ve taken if she hadn’t planned an assassination on a young emperor. She was very glad she’d never have to find out for certain, but also still fairly sure she’d have met and fallen in love with Paul regardless. That’s what he told her, anyway, and she was inclined to believe him.

After all, her husband could see the future.

The end! This concludes Confessions. I hope everyone enjoyed it. Please note that this is not the last you’ll see of these two. Not a sequel, mind you, but there will indeed be more content. Thank you for joining me on this journey, and once again I’d also like to thank @alexagirlie for organizing the Dune Mini Bang and doing the art, @dunefandomevents (which is run by her lmao) for giving me an opportunity to participate, @meetmyothersouls for helping me brainstorm, and @patronsaintofthetwinks for beta’ing (some of which she did on an international flight, no less). Thank you again, everyone 💗

Tag list: @meetmyothersouls @ellamaianderson @shika1200 @blackqueenstarseed1 @gatoenlaciudad @esmaada @mariaelizabeth21-blog1 @softhecreator @timolaurence @timmymyluv @oddlyenoughiamweird

To be added, please ask 💗

Oh yeah, you guys prolly wanna know about their kids, right? I’ll put their ages when the kids were born also. There are eleven because Paul cannot keep it in his pants to save his life and most of them are named after her siblings, but anyway here:

Leto II, son. Sera 19/Paul 26.

Ronan, son. Sera 20/Paul 27.

Maeve, daughter. Sera 22/Paul 29.

Adair and Cian, twin boys. Sera 23/Paul 30.

Aisling, daughter. Sera 26/Paul 33.

Sorcha, daughter. Sera 27/Paul 34.

Willem, son. Sera 29/Paul 36.

Lucia, daughter. Sera 31/Paul 38.

Duncan, son. Sera 33/Paul 40.

Vorian, son. Sera 36/Paul 43.

Anyway that’s all thanks for reading ✌️

[runwithwolvcs]

You Know I'm No Good - forty

Congrats, Grad

Warnings: smuttish

Graduation day, Tallulah had been counting down the days ever since she arrived in La Push. But now, on that very day, she didn’t want to get out of bed. Graduating highschool was the first step of being forced into adulthood. Real adulthood. Not the pretend life she had created in her head, acting older than she was, wanting to be thought of as an adult without the consequences that came with it. 

She wasn’t ready for the real world like she tried to convince everyone she was.

Paul would understand, having been thrusted into immense responsibility by his genetics at such a young age. She didn’t want that, not yet, at least. She wanted fun, carefree living, where she could still make mistakes and not be chastised for them. While La Push had been the fresh start her parents had hoped for her, the idea of living a fast pace city still lingered in the back of her mind.

New York, lingered in the back of her mind. 

A knock on her bedroom door pulled her out of her thoughts, “Come in.”

Winona opened the door with a smile, a vase of orange tulips in her hands. Tallulah's eyes lit up at the gift, her favourite flower.

“These came for you.” she announced, placing the vase on her desk before leaving her daughter be.

She knew exactly who they were from.

He remembered the small tidbit of information she gave him, though that didn’t surprise her in the slightest.

She stood from her bed, the card stuck in the flowers beckoning her to read it.

In messy handwriting, the card read,

‘My Lu,

I won’t be able to see you until after the ceremony, but I just wanted to let you know that I wouldn't miss it for the world.

I’m so proud of you.

And I love you.

Your baby duck.’

The card set her mind at ease, something must have happened, which explained his absence from her bed that morning after Winona allowed him to stay the night. Tallulah had cited graduation jitters, though her mom knew it was more likely imprint codependency.

--

Looking into the crowded gymnasium, she couldn’t spot the one person she was looking for. August nudged her slightly, adding, “He’d be stupid to miss this.”

“He won’t miss it,” she defended her imprint. Though it didn’t stop her from pulling out her phone to send a quick message.

‘Where are you? I’m not doing this without you.’ she messaged him. And it was true, she wouldn’t be able to physically move her legs across the stage if she didn’t know he was there. Stage fright was a bitch.

‘Lobby.’ was all she got back.

It was enough to set her mind at ease as quickly walked through the halls to the front lobby. Ditching August who was heading back to where they were keeping all the graduates.

Noticing him standing there in a white button down and nice slacks, speaking with two teachers. She watched as one of  the teachers talked animatedly towards him.

Tallulah slowed her steps as she caught his eye and he excused himself from the conversation, walking towards her with a smile on his face

“Hey, beautiful.” Paul complimented as soon as he got close enough. Her cheeks flushed at the way he looked her up and down. The tight black dress stuck to her body like a second skin, the slit in the dress making her legs look longer than they actually were. Not to mention the heels that were no doubt going to blister her feet making her just a few inches shorter than him.

“Where's your cap and gown?” he teased, his arms going around her immediately.

“I took it off, it was too hot,” she sat wrapping her arms around his waist, “Is everything alright?”

“Everything is just fine, Lu.” he spoke quietly,  kissing the top of her head. She could feel his own uneasiness, the way he could probably feel the anxiety radiating through her. 

Everything was not fine.

“For now.” she mumbled into his neck, pressing a soft kiss. Was walking across the stage really necessary?  She could think of a million other things she could be doing on this day, including Paul unzipping her dress and bending her over. 

Paul pulled back to give her a questioning look, “Hm?”

“You’re beside my dad.” she scrunched up her nose, knowing the disdain the two men had for one another. She understood his side completely, though her dad had yet to explain why he refused to accept Paul. The age difference, sure, but neither of them could control that. Paul made her happy, imprint or not, there was something about him that made her want to be better, and maybe she has already dropped the self destructive nature she had inhabited in Seattle. But, the itch was still there, when her emotions became too much to the point she wanted to scream and run off to break all the rules that had been set for her. Paul soothed that, he let her emotions run their course before wrapping her up in his arms and telling her everything would be okay. Tallulah believed him every time.

“It’ll be fine.” he promised, smoothing out her freshly straightened hair that cascaded around her, “Todays about you, and only you.”

The sound of someone clearing their throat caught both of their attention, turning to look at Mrs. Saloso standing in the entrance of the foyer, “Miss. Forrester, I’ve been looking everywhere for you. Come on now.”

“Sorry, sorry.” she said looking at the teacher, backing away from Paul with a grin.

“Mr. Lahote, even after graduating nearly ten years ago, you still manage to be a pain in my ass..”

He chuckled before apologising, “Sorry, Mrs. Saloso. Won’t happen again.”

--

“Where's Paul?” She asked her mom who was the first person she found after ditching her cap and gown. Locating her boyfriend seemed to be the theme of the day as he kept disappearing from her line of sight.

“He just went to take a phone call,” Tallulah heard her fathers voice from behind her.

A small stuffed bunny very similar to the one she had as a child in his hands, with a little sweater that said ‘congrats, grad’ on it.

“This is for you, Lula. I know we haven’t seen eye to eye on many things recently but, I’m proud of you.” he said tentatively as he handed her the stuffed animal, she smiled down at it.

“Thank you.” she said genuinely. He showed up for something important to her for once, she didn’t want to ruin it with her own transgressions.

“Any schools you’ve applied to?” He asked curiously.

“Parsons, in New York.”

“Just the one?”

She nodded, knowing that he didn’t approve of her career choice that she had dreamt of as a little kid.

“You know, Paul can’t--” he started but she was quick to interject,

“I know.”

She felt an arm wrap around her shoulders, pulling her into a hug, though it wasn’t the warm, muscular ones she was hoping for.

 “I am so jealous of you.” Lenna whispered to her

Tallulah laughed, “You have one more year.”

“Hey, Tal.” Josie said with a warm smile, and Tallulah nodded in acknowledgment. They haven’t spoken in months, more so from her own lack of trust in her younger sister than anything to do with their father.

“You must be excited to finally get out of here.” Josie joked light heartedly.

“A little bit.” She said, though she knew she would never really be leaving.

Lenna nudged her, garnering her attention, “You might want to go save Paul,”

Tallulah looked in the direction Lenna had nodded to. Her parents and Kira had Paul wrapped up in conversation, though from the looks of it, Paul and Joseph were doing most of the talking. 

“Now I’m jealous of you.” Josie spoke, “Though I’m not surprised you’ve got him wrapped around your finger.”

“What do you mean?” she asked, her head turning to look at her sister.

“He came by a little while ago, to talk to dad. They spoke outside for almost two hours. I don’t know what about,  but it ended with dad threatening him if he ever hurts you. Judging by the way he’s looking at you right now, I doubt that will ever happen.” Josie explained.

He never told Tallulah this, nor was it like Paul to be the one to bow down first in a situation like this. After everything that had happened, all the things she had told him from childhood up until their last argument, he could barely contain his anger that he felt towards her father.

“He has never looked at Rachel like that.” Lenna mentioned.

Tallulah shrugged off the comment, “I’ll see you guys later.”

Walking over to her parents and Paul, all eyes were on her. The passive smiles she received were unsettling but the only thing she wanted to do, the only thing she did do, was wrap her arms around his waist. He was quick to wrap his arms around her, leaning down to whisper in her ear,  “Let's go outside and talk.”

She nodded, not even questioning him, as she let him lead her outside away from the people lingering.

“I like this dress,” he said as he thumbed at the spaghetti strap. An anxious tick of his.

“You should see what’s under it.” she teased, though he didn’t give her the reaction she was looking for. Something was definitely wrong. “What's wrong?”

He shook his head, “ I need you to stay on the rez tonight.”

“Okay?”

“With your dad. Your mom-”

“No.” she interjected, “Just because we can be civil in a room together doesn’t mean I want to stay with him.”

“Baby, please. I wouldn’t ask this of you if it wasn’t serious.” he begged, he didn’t like the idea either but at least he would know she was safe.

“I can just stay at your house, it wouldn't be the first time I've been alone there.” she reasoned. He’s left her there multiple times to go on patrol and now suddenly there's a problem?

“I don’t want you alone, Lu.” he stated firmly, his face hard. Clearly this was not up for debate.

She raised her eyebrow at him, “How bad is it?” 

“He crossed the treaty line.” he nearly growled out, prompting her to put a hand on his arm.

“What about my mom?” she asked, concerned.

“She's going to your aunts in Port Angeles. ”

“It’s just for the night?”

“Hopefully.”

“Paul.” she sighed, crossing her arms, “You can’t just say hopefully. You said that last time and--”

“I know.”

“I won't be able to sleep knowing you could..” she started, but her words got caught in her throat as she thought about what had happened last time. He grabbed her and held her tightly against his hardened chest, knowing there was nothing that could calm her anxiety about this particular topic.

“He can stay with us, when he’s not on patrol.” Joseph sounded from behind her. “With you.”

“Really?” she asked, turning to look at her father, unsure of his motives.

“Kira's idea, not mine.” He grumbled, looking from her daughter to Paul with a sigh.

---

Keeping her bedroom light on as she read a book she had left in her room at her fathers home, she regretted the choice about half way through. Reading the characters ruining each other in a sexually explicit way had her pressing her thighs together as a pool of wetness started to form, wanting nothing more than for Paul to walk through the door and ravage her the same way the male character had to his female counterpart.

Tossing the book on the floor to try and  clear her mind of the R rated images she had created in her head, with Paul as the focus.

She got up and opened the window, knowing he wouldn’t want to come through the front door, as usual when sneaking in. Though this didn't really count as sneaking him in considering her father knew he would be here at some point in the night.

Tallulah left her room to brush her teeth and wash her face as a distraction, taking her time. Even bothering to braid her long hair into two dutch braids before heading back to her room.

The muscular man of whom she had been naughtily thinking of over the past hour now standing by the window, clearly having just entered.

 As soon as his eyes locked with hers, Tallulah was pulling him towards her bed, the two of them stumbling over each other's feet as she pressed her lips to his feverishly, her fingers laced behind his neck. Paul let out a low groan, the impatience his imprint was displaying was not expected but he was happy to indulge her.

The moment her back hit the bed, she locked her legs around his waist to pull him even closer, desperately trying to feel the pressure of him against her core. And she did.

Paul's lips muffled her moans. His hands snaked under her shirt to fondle her breasts.

Tallulah used her feet to try and kick off his shorts, to no avail. 

“Someones worked up,” he whispered, grabbing her leg to keep her from teasing the waistline of his shorts.

She quietly whined in response, “I’ve been waiting all day for this.”

“All day?” he questioned, pressing his lips to the spot below her ear, working his way across her jaw.

“Mhm,” she nodded, before carding her fingers through his hair and whispering, “There was nothing under my dress.”

Her words elicited a low groan from him, looking in her eyes for any sort of teasing undertone to her statement. But she was serious. The comment she had made earlier replayed in his head over and over.

“Fuck, Lu.” he said apologetcially, pressing his hips into hers causing her to bite her lip at the feeling of his hardness.

 All for her.

“I’m sorry for making you wait so long.. Let me make it up to you.” he grinned, and she knew he would, multiple times if she let him.

 Pushing her top up to her chest, he kissed down her stomach. His fingers pinched and pulled her nipples, making sure no part of her body was left untouched. Her back arching towards him, wanting to feel more of his warmth against her skin. She felt like she was on fire, and the only way to put out the flames was for him to press his body against hers, calming her overwhelmed senses.

Paul moved his hands to  the waistband of her pyjama shorts, pulling them down slowly, along with her panties, tossing them on the floor.

“Smell so good for me, babygirl” He mumbled before lifting her leg over his shoulder as he peppered kisses down the inside of her thigh until he reached her moonchild tattoo, pressing a particularly delicate kiss to it. 

She could feel his smile against her skin.

 Ever since she explained the reason for the tattoo, Paul was always touching it in some way. Usually with his fingers grazing it, but the feeling of his lips against it was maddening.

The feeling of his lips moving across her mound, but not stopping had her wriggling beneath him in want. The teasing he was giving her sent her in a spiral knowing her dad was asleep down the hall and if Paul kept it up, she was going to scream in frustration.

 “Hey Tal, do you --”

Both imprints looked towards the door to see Lenna standing there like a deer in headlights, and Paul was quick to throw the blanket on her bed over Tallulah, covering her up. Though him being without a shirt, and the obvious position they were in led little to the imagination of what they were up to.

“Oh my god, sorry.” Lenna said, covering her eyes before backing out of Tallulah's room and shutting the door,

She looked towards Paul with narrowed eyes, “You didn’t hear her coming?”

“I was a bit distracted,” he said, scratching the back of his neck sheepishly.

She threw her head back on her bed, no longer in the mood. Too worried that the next person to walk through her bedroom door would be her dad, “Lay with me.”

He obliged as she pulled the blanket all the way up to her chest, before covering him with it as well, though she knew he would toss it at some point in the night after overheating.

Her phone pinged, alerting her of a message, and she checked to see that it was from Lenna, “Does he always eat you out?”

She laughs, and sends her a thumbs up emoji before placing her phone on the nightstand to charge for the night. Tallulah turned on her side to face Paul, the exhaustion clear on his face. Using her index finger to trace his jawline, “Please wake me before you go. I don’t like waking up alone.”

He nods his head, pressing a kiss to her thumb that she was now using to trace his lips. “Promise, Lu. Thank you for doing this.”

“You owe me, times two.” she said, mentioning, “ I can’t believe you blue balled me.”

He laughed, pulling her into him so her face was buried in his chest, “I’ll make it up to you, I promise.”

Kissing his collarbone, she noted, “I’m counting on that promise.”

Tag List: @cperry0516 , @bhasbhabiessss, @fuzzyfingersandcavier @valeriyakonovalov @alwayshave-faith @emmettcullenswife @kingniazx @sorrow-and-bliss@swidkid @smol-scream

[wiypt-writes]

Sunny Side Up

Summary: Breakfast is the most important meal of the day, right? And for Mike, there’s no better way to start it than by eating his favourite thing, ever.

Pairing: Mike Weiss x Reader

Warnings: Smut (NSFW, 18+) Brief mentions of drug addiction- nothing graphic. Language!

A/N: So this was what popped into my head after seeing @imanuglywombat​ post that damned latest Sex Position as part of her downright filthy and wonderful “Is That Even A Sex Position” weekly challenge. This position is called “The Special Breakfast”. See here for more information. And you can totally blame @sweater-daddiesdumbdork​ for this one. I wasn’t gonna write it but…yeah, I did. Sorry not sorry.  I’ve tried to make the reader as non-descript and as inclusive as I can but I don’t usually do reader x fics so I apologise if it hasn’t quite hit the mark.

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and classified as 18+. Please respect this and do not read if you are underage. I do not own any characters in this series bar the reader.  By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer.

Tagged my permanent tag list.

Main Masterlist

********

“No, that’s not the same, at all.” Mike’s voice drifted up the hallway of you house as you closed the door behind you, shutting out the bitter January wind that has descended over Dover. “Yeah, well they signed up to the terms so....”

You glanced at your watch, it wasn’t even seven-AM yet and he was already on to someone about the current case he was working. But then, that was Mike all over. An addict, only now you were glad to say the only thing flooding his system was adrenaline and passion for his work.

You hung your jacket up on the pegs by the door, unwrapped your woollen scarf from round your neck and placed that over the hook above your jacket and then reached down to unzip you boots, before toeing them off. Your sock clad feet padded down the wooden floor of the hall towards the kitchen and you walked in to see Mike was bent over a file on the island in the middle, already dressed for the office.

“Clause ninety-one, paragraph twenty, sub-bullet two. Yup. We’ll present that to them today, give them chance to respond.” He paused for a moment, his head turning to you, a warm smile spreading across his face as you leaned over for a quick peck before you headed to the fridge for a soda. “Yeah. Okay, no problem, see you about half eight.”

With that he placed the cordless phone down and turned to face you.

“Morning, Baby.” He grinned, before he nodded to the Diet Coke in your hand. “Interesting choice of drink for breakfast.”

“Technically it’s not my breakfast time.” You shrugged back. “More like dinner, I suppose.”

Mike chuckled as he crossed to space towards you, his hands falling to your hips before he bent down and brushed his lips against yours in a hardly there kiss. “Good shift?”

“A heart attack, car accident, two broken legs, couple of flu cases and a shit tonne of idiotic drunks, the finest Delaware has to offer.” You shrugged. “Usual shit.”

“I don’t know how you do it, Dr Y/L/N”

“Lucky for you I do, or we’d have never met.”

“And I’d be dead.”

“Don’t.” You shook your head, swallowing a little. The memory of that night almost eighteen months ago was still raw. If you hadn’t stopped by at Mike’s that evening following an argument the pair of you had earlier in the day, you’d never have found him almost dead from an overdose. It had been a long road to recovery, and whilst nothing was ever proven, Mike and Paul were convinced that it was something to do with the safety needle case they had been working. Despite the fact that there was enough heroin in his system to stop his heart, Mike swore blind to you he hadn’t taken anything but a few lines that night, and there was something about the way he said it that made you believe him. And so did Paul.

The authorities never managed to prove anything, but there was one good thing to come out of it. When you had broken down and told Mike how scared you’d been that he was going to die and that you couldn’t cope anymore with the constant fear that one day he would kill himself for real, it gave Mike the final kick he needed because he didn’t want to lose you.

So he got clean. And this time he did it for good.

It wasn’t easy, for either of you. Once he was medically fit enough, Mike had been placed on a programme at a Rehab Centre, whereby he saw no one bar trained medical specialists and councillors for six weeks. It felt like the longest six weeks of your life but he did it. And when you went to pick him up, you instantly burst into tears at how different he looked, how better he looked, how healthy he looked.

The road to recovery is a long one, paved with temptations, you knew that being a Doctor. And whilst Mike knew and understood his triggers thanks to his programme, those temptations met him everywhere, especially because he knew exactly where and how to get his fix. So the pair of you agreed to take a fresh start. You traded Texas for Delaware, the State you were originally from, and you were beyond proud to be able to honestly state that Mike Weiss had been clean now for eighteen months. Well, apart from alcohol that is. But even that was enjoyed in moderation, and to be honest, you’d rather him sit at home with a glass or two of bourbon each night that sticking fuck knows what into his veins.

You cocked your head to one side as his hands flexed on your hip and he gave you a little side smile. “Sorry. Oh, hey guess who I got a call from?”

“Who?” You asked as he stepped back, grinning.

“The Alligator Farm. Snappy’s got himself a lady friend. They’re gonna send me some photos and stuff.”

You smiled, giving up that beloved alligator had been a hard sell to Mike. “That’s great.”

“Yeah. Oh and Paul was thinking of coming over with the family in the spring. I said they could stay here, I know it’ll be a squeeze but is that okay?”

“Course it is.” You reached up to cup his cheek. “It’ll be lovely to see them again.”

Mike smiled and dropped another kiss to your lips, this one slightly stronger before you pat his chest as he rest his forehead against yours.

“I need to go shower.”

“Want me to come join you?” He asked, eyebrow raised and you smiled.

“As good as that sounds there’s something else I want more.”

“Oh yeah?” He grinned, his eyes flickering down to the buttons on your blouse and you laughed.

“Calm down, Stud. I want pancakes and bacon, I don’t give a shit what time it’s supposed to be for me.”

Mike groaned as you moved away from where you’d been stood with your back to the large, stainless steel fridge and headed out of the room. He watched you go, the gently sway of your hips in your well fitted black pants made his groin twitch. He was half tempted to fuck your demands and go and jump you in the shower whether you wanted him to or not, but he’d seen the flicker your face had given when you’d described how your twelve-hour shift had gone down. Despite your blasé tone, he knew you too well and understood exactly how tired and stressed you were feeling. So, instead, he turned his attention to making breakfast.

Something he prided himself on was his cooking ability. He’d picked it up pretty fast since you’d moved here, he found it was a welcome distraction, so much so you very rarely made meals now, bar when you insisted on doing a roast which he never argued against.  Within fifteen minutes he had a stack of pancakes, bacon, eggs- sunny side up, as you preferred- all laid out on the island and ready for you to help yourself to. He’d just poured you an orange juice when you walked back into the kitchen, hair piled on your head in a messy bun, wrapped in a dressing gown and he was pleased to see you looked relaxed.

“Oh, Mikey, this looks great!” You smiled as he wrapped an arm round you, kissing your head. He watched as you helped yourself to a huge plateful before making your way over to the table and sitting down with a sigh. Mike tucked his tie into his shirt to avoid it dropping into his food and plated himself a helping up before he sat down at the place next to you, cracking his neck slightly. The pair of you chatted about the day ahead, which for you consisted of sleeping until it was time to get up for your next shift, Mike’s contained a meeting with a company who he was currently in the process of negotiating a settlement with on behalf of a client. When you’d finished, Mike made to clear away the dishes but you gently placed your hand on his arm and stood up, insisting on doing it as he’d cooked.

When you returned to the table, Mike pushed his chair back slightly and patted his knee.

“Come ‘ere.” He smiled softly and you grinned, settling yourself on his lap sideways, your arm looping round his shoulder, fingers gently playing with his suspenders. He gave a contented sigh as he wrapped his arms around you and pressed a kiss to your head, happy to simply be close to you for a moment.

“You doing okay?” You asked and he smiled, your words carrying that hidden meaning- ‘Do you want a fix, today?’

“I’m good, Babes.” He pulled back to look at you. “I promise.”

Smiling you gently placed your lips on his in a soft kiss, which soon became heated as Mike’s hand slid up to the back of your neck, holding you in place as his tongue slid along your bottom lip. He was pleased when you reciprocated, opening your mouth slightly to allow him in. He could taste the sweetness of the syrup on you from your pancakes and, as your tongue gently swirled against his, he let out a little groan from the back of his throat and he felt you smile.

“How long till you have to be in the office?” Your voice was lower than you’d intended, betraying exactly what you had in mind and Mike grinned at you, pulling back a little, as he glanced up at the clock.

“Just over forty-five minutes, why?”

You bit your lip, fingers toying once more with his suspenders which were clipped to the waistband of his light, grey trousers and sat over a maroon shirt, set off with a black tie. “Do I gotta spell it out to you, Weiss?”

“No, I just like hearing you beg.” A cheeky glint flashed in his eyes and you gave a snort.

“I do not beg.”

“Really?” He arched an eyebrow and in a swift moment he stood up, causing you to give a shriek of a giggle as he sat you on the table in front of him. “I bet,” he pushed on your shoulders causing you to rest your weight on your elbows as he loomed over you, gently reaching for the tie on your robe, “that I can have you singing my name and begging for more,” his hands made quick work of the knot and pulled it open, before his fingers slid up the front, opening it to leave you bare in front of him, “in less than five minutes flat.”

“Less than five minutes?” You looked up at him, his eyes blown with lust and you smirked. “You’re so full of shit.”

He wasn’t though, you knew full well that you were the one full of shit. Mike had on many an occasion had you crying his name in less time than it took you to sing a verse of the National Anthem, and he knew it as the cocky expression on his face showed.

“Oh, Baby Girl.” He chuckled, bending over, his mouth brushing against that spot on your neck, the bristles of his short beard scratching your skin. “Have you learnt nothing, yet?”

“Only that you’re a cocky little bastard.” You tried to keep your voice level but it didn’t work. Your words came out a shaky whisper as one of his hands gently splayed on your stomach and brushed up your body to your sternum as he peppered hot, opened mouthed kisses across your collar bone, before his lips ghosted up your neck, over your chin and his mouth claimed yours in a searing kiss as his hand palmed at your breast. As he rolled your nipple between his finger and thumb you gave a moan and he smirked against your mouth.

Suddenly, he was gone from over you and you frowned, missing his sudden presence and you propped yourself up on your elbows to see him settling back in the chair by the table.

“Mike, what the-“

You were cut off as he reached over, grabbing your ass and hoisting your pelvis up, pulling you towards him. Before you could register what was going on, your legs were over his shoulders and you just caught a glimpse of his face, as he quirked an eyebrow at you, lips curled upwards in that maddeningly smug bastard grin, before his mouth was trailing up the inside of your thigh.

“Oh, Jesus.” You let out a little groan as he neared the place you now desperately wanted him and he chuckled.

“No, just me.”

“Fuck off you-“ But whatever it was you were going to call him flew from your mind as his tongue licked up your sex, and grazed against your clit, teasing it with quick, hardly there flicks which, you were ashamed to say, had you riled up something feral. His hands palmed at your ass, his fingers curling round the outside of your thighs as he quickened his movements, his mouth expertly devouring you, tongue flicking into your entrance as his lips circled that sensitive nub, giving a suck that made you cry out, your back arching off the table, pushing yourself further onto his face.

Mike let out a chuckle which vibrated exquisitely against you and you gasped again, your hands slapping onto the cool surface of the table, fingernails feeling the grain of the wood as he upped his efforts dramatically, lips and tongue teasing you in a way that was so delectable it was teetering along that fine line between pain and pleasure. His mouth expertly devoured every inch of you, from your inner and outer pussy lips to the depths of your walls, tongue fucking you like you he was starving, despite the breakfast the pair of you had eaten moments ago.

“Fuck, Mike, I need…” Your voice was croaky, the words sounded far off as they bounced around your lust addled brain and once again he chuckled.

“I told you.”

“Yeah, yeah you arrogant sh-oooh fuck!” You cried as he gently nipped your clit. “Shit!”

You were willing yourself to remain grounded, wanting to prove him wrong but you couldn’t. You couldn’t fight the urge you felt to ride over the edge which was building like a fire inside you. When his mouth was over you completely once more, tongue deep, you felt him move one of his hands and his thumb pressed against your clit, before the pressure eased off and his tongue slipped away.

"Okay, okay you win, Mike, please for the love of God!” You groaned and with a final, maddeningly smug chuckle he dove back in, only this time when you felt your orgasm brewing he didn’t stop. One of your hands flew to his hair, pulling lightly on his soft, spiky strands and he gave a growl as you tugged, his efforts doubling once more as his beard scratched against your sensitive pussy and inner thighs. The coil in your belly was tightening, your entire body quivered and with a final flick of his tongue you gave a cry as your orgasm crashed over you. Your toes curled into his back just below his shoulders, your own back arched as your walls clamped down over nothing, the room fading out as everything went silent and the lights erupted in front of your eyes, your entire body feeling like you were floating.

Mike grinned, guiding you through your release before he stood up, pulling you further to the end of the table as he undid the flies on his trousers, freeing his painfully hard erection. The swollen head of his dick gently swirled around your folds before he buried himself inside you, groaning as he felt you fluttering around him in the after throes of your orgasm. You let out a low groan and finally opened your eyes, looking up at him as he pounded into you, fully clothed, those fucking suspenders that drove you wild still looped over his shoulders.  

He slid one, large hand under your back and pulled you up causing you to cry out as he drove deeper into you, his hand on the base of your back pulling you up and towards him as he dipped his head to give you a dirty, sloppy kiss whilst he rolled and thrust into you. Then His lips moved down, nipping at your neck, his breath hot on your ear as your head fell back, a low moan rumbling in his throat.

“God, I love seeing you like this, fucking wrecked all because of me.” His panted words made you groan even more as the heat in your groin was beginning to mount again. “Makes me higher than any fucking drug ever could.”

His thrusts continued, hard, deep, and you felt his dick throbbing inside you as he drove up against your spot, his lips back on yours as he kissed you hard, swallowing the pants and whimpers you were making as you began to teeter on that cliff edge again. With a deep roll of his hips you let out a low wail and came, once more, your core spasmed around him as your entire body tingled, and that was enough for him to follow you. With a powerful thrust he stiffened, a low grunt stuttering from his lips as he pulsed inside of you, his hips growing sloppy before they stopped completely. His chest heaving, he pressed his forehead to yours, the pair of you gasping for breath as you came down from your high.

“Shit, Mike.” You managed to stutter as he grinned, his lips meeting yours in a soft peck. “That was…”

“Yeah, I was pretty good.” He chuckled and you slapped his arm as he moved and pulled out of you. You straightened your robe and stood up, wincing as you felt his release trickled down your inner thigh.

“I need another shower.” You grumbled, before you glanced at his crotch, the damp patch where he’d pressed against you was clear as day. “And you should probably change your trousers.”

Mike glanced down before his eyes met you, and he shrugged. “Maybe I won’t. Maybe I’ll go into the office like this and then every time I see it I’ll be reminded exactly what a damned good breakfast I had this morning.”

You blinked before you shook your head, scoffing. “You’re gross.”

He laughed. “You love it, Sweetheart.”

“I love you.” You corrected, your hands sliding up over his shoulders and he smiled, a pure, innocent smile that made him look like a schoolboy before he took your face in his hands and kissed you deeply, pulling away, his nose bumping against yours.

“I love you too.” He whispered, his eyes locking onto yours. “Now go, before I decide to play hooky for the day.”

“Don’t tempt me with a good time, Weiss.” You smirked, before with one final quick peck you left the room.

Mike watched you go, before he ran his hands through his hair and turned to glance around the kitchen, his eyes falling to the table he’d just fucked you senseless on.

He should probably clean that before he went to work…

[beauvibaby]

all I could ever want – t.seguin

a/n: part 2 of there won’t be anyone else!! I definitely prefer the first part of this story, but I also love this one because it’s just straight fluff 😌

Word count: 2.9k

“Mommy!” Willow squealed in delight, running into the kitchen to see you, Tyler had picked her up from preschool on his way home from practice. “Willow!” You mimicked, laughing as she hugged your legs, “did you have a good day?” You asked with a grin, Tyler chuckled, “Miss Laura is having a baby.” Tyler spoke for her. Willow nodded excitedly, “aw, that’s great.” You smiled, hoisting Willow up to sit on the counter. “I want you to have a baby, mommy.” She spoke honestly, giving her dad a weird look when he choked on his water, you snickered at him. “Maybe.” You shrugged her comment off, thankful for her short attention span, she was asking to go play with the dogs as she wiggled her way into your arms to be put down on the ground. “Go ahead.” Tyler nodded her off and she went barreling towards the living room where the dogs were innocently napping, poor boys.

“What was that reaction for?” You asked once it was just the two of you, he mumbled something under his breath, “talk like an adult, Tyler.” You teased him, resting a hand on your hip as you gave him a stern look. “I just didn’t think she was going to want a sibling, she loves having all the attention.” He sighed, “plus my baby is too little to want another baby in the house.” He pouted dramatically. Ah, the real reasoning coming out. “Yeah, but you always said you wanted more kids, and you know I would be happy with a full house, so.” You trailed off, kind of disappointed by his lackluster reaction. “You still want to have more kids right?” You asked when he didn’t speak, finally locking your eyes on his. “Yes, of course.” He rushed, “after the wedding?” He offered, seeing your smile turn up, “really?” You gasped like a child. You wrapped your arms around his neck, “I don’t want you to think I don’t want more babies with you.” He smirked, kissing your pouted lips, “I was just so caught off guard.” He admitted honestly, his normal attitude coming back through.

You had to cut him some slack, thinking of how hard it was for him when Willow’s mom was pregnant, she didn’t want him involved in anything he wasn’t able to be apart of it up until the last second, it was like a switch flipped and suddenly she decided she wasn’t fit to raise a baby. As selfish as it sounds, you were so grateful for how it turned out, because at the end of the day you knew she was getting the best life possible with you and Tyler.

“Me too, honestly, I’m surprised she hasn’t asked how the baby gets in a woman’s stomach.” You quipped, Tyler groaned, “I can’t even think about that.” He muttered in defeat, kissing the side of your head. When he pulled away, you had a giddy smile on your face, “what?” He asked you suspiciously. “I can’t wait to have a baby with you.” You admitted, watching his nerves melt away. You knew Tyler, and you knew he was a worrier, even if he didn’t voice it, right now he was probably running over every horror story he’s heard about complicated pregnancies. “God you’re gonna look so beautiful.” He muttered, a glint in his eyes, you knew then, that it was all going to be ok, even if he was a nervous wreck. Which part of you thought he would be.

***

You stood by the window of your bridal suite, dressed in your gown and veil, one of the photographers getting photos of you looking out, coincidentally, in the open garden below you, Tyler was doing his first look with Willow, something the photographer had brought up to you, and you jumped on it. Those pictures would be cherished forever, Tyler really didn’t know what Willow was going to be dressed in, but you watched as he turned around and saw his little girl, who didn’t look so little, in a dusty rose colored dress, long lace sleeves and a nice puffy skirt, per her request. Her curls tamed beautifully for once as she actually let the hair stylist apply some products to them. Your grin was wide as he gasped, looking at her and she bounced over to him, you could see her mouth moving and you could only imagine how she was rambling on and on about her dress. A habit he swears she picked up from you.

“Y/N? You ready to head down?” Your maid of honor, your best friend Y/F/N asked, giving you a once over. You smoothed out your dress once more, looking down at the trumpet style gown. “Yeah.” You sniffled, fanning at your face. You and Tyler opted not to do a first look, you wanted to see his genuine reaction as you walked down the aisle. “You look stunning.” She assured you, lightly dabbing under your eyes with a tissue, the sound of the camera going off in the background.

As you reached your spot just behind the double doors, any nerves you had melted away, Tyler, the love of your life, was right on the other side of this wall, prepared to say I do to a lifetime with you.

Tyler’s father was walking you down the aisle, neither of your parents here to do it. As he approached, you smiled, hoping Tyler’s reaction would be similar to his dad’s. You’d grown close with his family over the years, they truly loved you, and it showed as his dad grabbed your hand, kissing the top of it as he smiled tearfully. “I’ll never really know how Tyler managed to snag you up, but he could have never made a better choice.” He explained, voice shaking before he cleared his throat. “Let’s get this show on the road.” He broke the silence, chuckling at himself as you looped your arm with his, holding your bouquet with the other.

The wedding March began to play, and the doors were pushed open, revealing you and Paul standing there. Instantly Tyler looked to the ceiling, his eyes watering already, the smile on his face was undeniable as you walked towards him slowly, your own eyes glazed over at the way he was looking at you. “Gorgeous.” He mouthed, your lips parting in a smile, he loved when he got those smiles out of you, the ones where the corners of your eyes would crinkle, and sometimes you would even scrunch your nose a bit. This was definitely one of those moments.

***

The wedding had come and gone, your honeymoon too, a simple trip with just the two of you before the hockey season started again. “Daddy.” Willow whispered, standing on his side of the bed, he stirred, blinking his eyes a couple of times to adjust to the darkness of the room. He turned his lamp on, “what’s wrong baby?” He asked softly, careful not to wake you as he caressed Willow’s face, frowning at the tears coating it. “I had a bad dream.” She whimpered, “come here.” He huffed as he pulled her up onto the bed. “Wanna tell me what happened?” He asked her, turning the lamp off as he let her cuddle with him. “No, just cuddles.” She mumbled sleepily, his heart swelled in his chest at that, “always, princess.” He sighed, kissing the top of her head as she easily laid on top of him, her teddy bear snuggled between them. You flipped over carefully, having woken up during their little conversation. Tyler gave you a tired smile as you placed a kiss on his shoulder before resting back on your pillow, a smile on your face as you listened to her light breathing.

As morning came you groaned in annoyance, morning sickness coming right along with it.

That’s right, you two had no trouble getting pregnant apparently, today was actually the day you were going to tell Willow about the baby. “Is mommy sick?” Willow asked Tyler as they woke up to you bolting out of bed, he held back a chuckle, “no, she’s ok.” He assured her, “stay here.” He demanded gently before coming to check on you as you brushed your teeth. “Hi babe.” He placed a kiss on your cheek, “doing ok?” He asked softly, locking eyes with you in the mirror. “Yeah,” you sighed, leaning into his hold after you rinsed your mouth out. “Are you ready to tell her?” You asked eagerly, “god, yes.” He groaned, giving you a quick kiss.

Willow was sitting in the middle of the bed, adjusting the bow on her teddy bear's head. “Good morning, baby.” You chuckled, sitting beside her, she shot you a smile, just like Tyler’s as she crawled into your lap. “Don’t forget miss bows.” She mumbled with a pout, Tyler snickered as you took the bear and placed a kiss on its head, “good morning, miss bows.” You spoke dramatically, Willow snuggling happily into you. “Hey, Willow.” Tyler spoke softly, sitting beside you, “guess what?” He smiled at her, she sat up a little straighter, “what?” She asked cutely, you shared a look with Tyler. “We’re gonna have a baby.” You told her, relief hitting you as she jumped up screaming in excitement. “A baby?!” She squealed. You quickly pulled out your phone to record her, sending it to Tyler’s parents. “When?” She asked giggling, sitting crossed legged in front of you both. “Oh, it’s still going to be a few months honey.” You explained sweetly, “but you’re going to be a big sister, that means you can help me and mommy get stuff ready for the baby.” Tyler assured her, wanting her to feel involved and not like the baby was going to completely take over.

The months started flying by, you were having a little boy, Tyler thought he wanted another daughter, which of course he would have been just as excited for, but when he heard it was a boy, you could see the way his eyes lit up. Willow had been a little upset at first, wanting a little sister that she could do all her fun girly things with as she got older, but after some long conversations and some explanations, you convinced her of all the reasons it would be fun for her to have a brother.

Tyler was more than nervous as your water broke in the middle of the night, of course you’d thought ahead and had spoken to Tyler’s mom, who had been staying with you guys for about a week, to be here and help with Willow once you had the baby. He swears that your labor went on forever, but really, you’d gotten lucky and progressed quickly. Nearly missing the window to get the epidural, which terrified you, but you got it, and now you had a very healthy, chunky little eight pound baby boy. Much to everyone’s surprise, everyone expected him to be smaller, but you weren’t complaining.

“Oh my god.” You cried out as they put him on your chest, his screams filling the room, it felt like an eternity until he began to cry, but he was sure to make up for it.

“I can’t believe we made him.” Tyler mumbled, unlike Willow, Hunter was born with next to no hair. “I know.” You whispered, running your finger across his chubby cheek, he was peacefully sleeping in your arms, already a hungry baby, having drunk himself right to sleep. “I hope he looks like you.” Tyler muttered, lightly kissing the side of your head, a smile graced your lips, “I hope he looks like you.” You giggled, “but I kind of don’t, because then all the girls will be after him when he’s a teenager.” You added, your husband chuckling beside you. “Let’s worry about his first night home, yeah?” He laughed softly. “Willow is going to be so excited.” You sighed, lacing your fingers with Tyler’s.

***

“Mommy, daddy!” Willow rushed over when you walked in, Tyler having the car seat around his arm. “Hi, sweet girl.” You welcomed her hug, kneeling to her height. “Were you good for grandma?” You asked gently, she nodded eagerly before moving over to hug Tyler once he placed the car seat down. “Hi princess.” He grinned, hugging her tightly, “I missed you.” He kissed the top of her head, laughing as she completely disregarded his comment and looked at Hunter in awe. “He’s so pretty.” She gasped, making you and Jackie both laugh. “He really is a beautiful baby, honey.” Jackie spoke to you, giving you a gentle hug. Tyler moved the car seat up to the table, shushing Willow as he assured her she would get to hold him. “Go wash your hands.” Jackie instructed her, walking over to Tyler as he easily held the newborn in his hands. She kissed her son's cheek before grabbing Hunter’s hand, “hello beautiful boy.” She cooed, running her thumb over his arm. “You did good.” She commented to Tyler, lightly nudging his side, he shot her a smile, “yeah.” He agreed, glancing at you.

“Can I hold him, please, please?” Willow begged, running out with freshly washed hands, you nodded, “go sit on the couch, I’ll bring him to you.” You instructed her softly, she giggled and ran off to the couch, you gently took Hunter from Tyler, “oh, Jackie did you want to hold him fi–“ “No, no, let Willow do it first, she’s just so excited.” Jackie cut you off mid ramble. You smiled in relief, slowly walking over to the couch, Tyler came and sat next to her, he put a pillow on her lap, and had her put arms out on it. “You have to be really gentle, ok?” He told her as he put his arms around her, his hands offering extra support for the baby’s neck. You laid Hunter down, smiling as Willow cooed down to him, “hi baby brother.” She giggled, looking over at you and then to Tyler. “Mommy,” she mumbled as you sat next to them, Tyler picking the baby up as he began to fuss, “I love him.” Willow concluded in the most serious voice. “I love him too.”

***

Hunter gurgled up at you as you dressed him in sweatpants, now two months old, and all of you were missing Tyler as he just had his first away game of the season. You left him shirtless, a pun at how Tyler always walked around the house in his pajamas, “mommy, I wanna match.” Willow pouted, you looked at her in thought for a moment, knowing you couldn’t let her run around in only pants, even if it was only in the house. “Oh, I have an idea.” You grinned, scooping the baby up and going into the back of the closet, where most of Tyler’s old shirts were. “Come here baby!” You called, Willow came bouncing in, one of your fondest memories as a child was wearing your dad's old shirts as pajamas, so why not pass it on to her. “Pick one to wear.” You told her, smiling as she got all excited, flipping through them, she pulled two down off the hangers, “where this one mommy, please.” She gave you her puppy eyes, not that she had to. You nodded, taking the shirt from her and going into the bathroom to change into it, leaving your shorts in underneath.

A loud laugh fell from your lips as you walked out and saw her drowning in his shirt, but there was nothing more adorable. “Come here, let me get a picture.” You made Willow lay on the bed, and put Hunter next to her, you wanted to send the picture to him, but you’d rather him be surprised by your outfit choices for the night. “Hello!” Tyler called from downstairs, Willow giggled carefully moving away from Hunter, “careful, hold the shirt up so you don’t fall!” You called as she took off out of the room, her response faded out as she bounced down the steps, you following with Hunter curled up in your arms. “Hey baby!” You heard Tyler gasp, “what do you think you’re wearing?” He questioned her, lifting her up into his arms. “We missed you so much, we figured why not dress up as you.” You explained, making him look up and see you in one of his shirts and Hunter in little grey sweatpants, Tyler threw his head back in laughter, “are you surprised?” Willow asked him, arms clasped around his neck, he hummed in agreement as he kissed her cheek before coming over to you. “Hi.” He whispered before pecking your lips.

“Hi.” You repeated, smiling as he pulled away, Willow wiggled her way down to the ground, allowing him to take Hunter from you. “Hey bud, looking good.” He mumbled kissing across his chubby cheeks. “And mama, as beautiful as ever.” He winked over at you. He smirked when you rolled your eyes with a smile, “movie night!” He declared, bolting up the stairs with Hunter to go change. You chuckled as you ordered pizza, deciding to make it a fun simple night. You knew that it wouldn’t always be like this, but you knew that whatever life through at you, you two could make it work.

“You know, I’ve got all I could ever want right here.” Tyler mumbled as you sat curled up on the couch with two sleeping kids on your laps. “Me too, Ty.”

taglist: @boqvistsbabe @tortito @2manytabsopen @heybarzy @barzysreputation @yzas-stuff @iwantahockeyhimbo @calgarycanuck @myhockeyworld87 @shortstacks-blog @mymanshawn @calgarycanuck @pagirl6866 @chronosarcheron