Modern!leto Atreides - Tumblr Posts
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lovely lovely yes good
modern!leto atreides- bittersweet
Summary: Under pressure from his family, Leto feels like he has to marry you. Not wanting to be a burden, or duty, you break up with him. You and Leto, though, can’t really stay apart. (~4.4k)
Contents: 18+, fem!reader, shorter than Leto, fighting, breaking up, reconciling, fingering, oral sex, the ducal ring is a sex toy now (don’t look at me like that and IRL- make sure any jewelry is clean and retrievable if you put it in… places)
:: Part 1- Sweet Like // Part 2- Sweeter With You ::
-----
You’re standing in the bedroom, waiting for Leto to get home. His board meeting went late.
Not Atreides Industries and not the Foundation. The family board meeting.
It’s rare for all of them to get together. Mostly because they don’t get along.
Leto’s cousins are vicious know-it-alls, led around by the family teat (which Leto controls). A handful of aunts and uncles are lazy and jealous.
Leto’s parents had split up years ago. Their divorce had almost sunk the entire empire and then Paulus had died a few years afterward.
Rumor was, Helena had Paulus killed in car racing accident.
There'd been a savage power struggle afterward, but no one had fucked with Leto since he took the helm of everything. They knew he'd bury anyone who tried to so much as smudge Paulus' legacy.
Still, Helena insisted on calling Leto, ‘Duke,’ because she resented losing her titles after she divorced Paulus to marry some jackwad she’d only known for 2 weeks.
As far as you knew, Leto's father had been the only one in the family that was worth a damn. His death still haunted Leto.
It had given him the strength he needed, though, to keep them all in line. Even Paulus hadn't been able to keep the Atreides name scandal-free and running smoothly all the time.
From the outside, it looks like Leto rules with a velvet touch. Those closest to him know it’s just velvet over diamond-hard stone.
They think the only thing he loves is duty. But, he’d do anything to protect his family. He just doesn’t have any patience for their antics. He only has patience for yours.
As a treat, you’d put on something very high-class escort service. Black and green straps criss-cross your body and over your shoulders, along your back. Thin mesh ran across your breasts and a microscopic triangle between your legs. Your ass was out completely. The whole thing was held together by a knot at your lower back that you looked forward to Leto undoing with his teeth.
The heels were starting to hurt, though. Five inch stilettos on hard wood for, you check your watch, an hour and a half.
Finally, you hear the purr of Leto’s car outside. Mentally, you watch him go through his routine.
Handing his coat and keys to the staff, asking how their day was, asking where you were. Being informed that you’re upstairs, and the house is going to be empty in five minutes.
That look he’ll get in his eyes as he looks up the stairs. From tired to predatory in half a second. He'll know what you're up to, and he's oh-so happy to play along.
You hear him walking up. You stay with your back to the door so he can take in the view when he comes in, knowing you're framed by the big window in the bedroom that overlooks the lush, darkening forest.
Leto sighs appreciatively. “My God, you’re gorgeous.”
You turn coyly to look at him. “You really think so?”
He undoes the buttons on his shirt cuffs, walking over to you. His dark eyes are guarded, lids half-lowered, a holdover from his work. It always takes him awhile to actually relax.
“Why don’t you reach into my pocket and find out?” He asks.
You lean in to kiss him, holding onto the salt and pepper of his beard. His tongue lightly tastes along your strawberry lip gloss.
Your hand winds its way down his body and into his pocket. Instead of what you usually find, there’s something else. Warm from Leto’s skin. You take it out.
A ring. A huge fucking diamond.
Your seductive smile disappears.
“I already have a ring,” you say, meaning the one Leto had given you months ago. One he’d help design himself. It's not just a piece of jewelry. It means a lot to both of you.
This diamond looks as big as a Fiat. Too big to fit in the palm of your hand, where it currently rests.
“This is an heirloom,” you say, recognizing it.
“My mother was the last one to own it, yes. Don’t let that put you off,” Leto kisses your neck, letting his facial hair scrape your skin. “It’ll look much better on you.”
You study the cold stone.
The rock of Gibraltar, Leto's cousins called it, because anyone who'd ever worn it was secure for an eternity. Secured to the Atreides name and money.
“You’re a charmer,” you say quietly, thoughtfully. “Most eligible bachelor in the world, every year, since the day you turned eighteen.”
His arms catch you off guard, wrapping around you, his hands cupping your ass cheeks. Your hand closes around the rock to keep it from dropping.
“As I’ve said, I’m not eligible anymore. You’re taking me off the market. Officially,” he says, resting his forehead against yours.
“You wish, Atreides.” You try to keep it playful, try to twist away, but not too hard. You don’t actually want to escape.
He holds you firmly, his body steady until you give up your faux escape attempt. You scratch your fingers through his beard.
“I’m serious,” he says. “I spoke with my family today. I’m asking you to marry me.”
Your stomach tenses with nerves. “They’d never agree. We’ve talked about this. They think I’m way beneath you, and shallow, and eye candy. They don't like how I tease you.”
“It was their idea actually,” Leto says.
His tone though, is a little stressed, withholding. Something else is going on. You can feel it.
You hold the ring up between you, in both of your eye-lines.
“What’s going on?” You ask Leto.
His hands sweep down your body, catching on the thin fabric of your lingerie, lingering over it. “They think it’s time for me to secure the Atreides legacy. They’d rather we were married.”
“They’d rather I sign legal documents, you mean.” You slip the ring back into the pockets of his suit pants.
Leto takes a deep breath, his face drawn. He loops his fingers in the elastic around your hips. “It wouldn’t change anything between us-“
“That’s bullshit, and you know it. Marriage isn’t nothing, especially to you,” you say, stubbornly refusing to put your arms around him.
His eyebrows draw together in a dark, worried line. “It isn’t that I don’t want to marry you. I would. If it were my choice.”
“Your family can’t make you marry me, Leto.”
“Yes, they can. You have no idea what they’re capable of.”
“You didn’t let me finish,” you say, losing patience. “They can’t make you marry me, if I don’t agree to it.”
Leto goes still, his gaze sharpens. “You know what us being married would do for you. You’re turning me down?”
“Is that really surprising? Given your hissy fit about the whole thing.”
He looks offended.
Good.
Let him be.
Let him feel as bad as you do, for making you feel like a chore. Like something controllable by his money and power. Gifts were one thing, but he only gave them to you because he loved you. And you love him.
You’d go along with anything Leto wanted, because usually, all either of you wants is for the other to be happy.
It’s not the first time his family has stolen his happiness, but you’ve never let it affect you. You’re always there to lift him back up. This time, Leto’s letting himself be dragged down, and he's not letting you help him. He's already decided.
Leto’s face is stern. “You really won’t do this for me? It’s one signature, baby.”
“I’m not your puppet. And your family can fuck straight off.” You grab your purse and look around for a jacket or a shirt. Anything to cover this ridiculous, stupid, lingerie that you want to burn in a bonfire and never see again.
“Sweetheart,” Leto says, sounding tired. “Where’re you going to go this time of night? Just sleep in one of the other rooms. We can talk in the morning.”
You swipe at the tears running down your face, watery mascara on your fingertips. “You don’t get it, Leto. There’s nothing to talk about anymore. I’m breaking up with you.”
His face goes tight, slightly annoyed. “Don’t be ridiculous.”
“You can’t fix this.” You face him. For once, you’re ten steps ahead of him. You know exactly how this plays out, and there aren’t any good outcomes. “If we do get married, you resent it. If we don’t, I’ll resent that you hated the thought of it so much. We always said, the day this relationship becomes an obligation, it's over.”
He thinks it over, his shoulders slumped under the weight of your words. “Us breaking up is exactly what they want.”
The realization is bitter in your mouth. He’s right.
But you are too.
You’re not even angry anymore. You’re starting to go numb.
“Being with me is the first time in your whole life you didn’t do what was expected of you,” you say. “I guess this is where it gets you.”
You find one of Leto’s oversized button-ups. Your heart breaks as you put it on, folding it over yourself before you leave the room.
“Please, let Duncan drive you where you want to go,” Leto says, watchful, but making no move to stop you.
You have to shut your eyes to keep from looking at him one, last time. “He can take me to the end of the driveway. I’ll text someone to pick me up.”
“I don’t suppose you’ll tell me where you’re going,” he says quietly.
“No, I won’t.”
*****
As Duncan drives you down the long driveway, you sit in the back of the car; to start putting distance between yourself and anything to do with Leto Atreides.
But you look back at the house. The big, modern wood and glass structure that’s been the most important home of your life, because of the man inside.
A man you’re sure, right now, is still sitting on the end of his bed where you’d left him. As heartbroken as you are, probably. You hope, somehow, he’ll get over you faster than you’ll get over him. Not that you ever will.
You know how lonely Leto had been before you. Nothing but work and duty, the occasional fling to take the edge off.
Duncan opens your car door for you, hands you your backpack, the only thing you’d packed when you left.
He pats you on the shoulder. “Keep my number. If you need anything. I won’t tell the boss, if you don’t want me to. Gurney and Thurfir’d say the same.”
“Thanks,” you say, waving to your friend, who’s pulling up in her own car. You look up at Duncan. “Don’t let him marry just anyone.”
He gives you a quizzical look.
“Just, make sure whoever he marries, really loves him, okay?” You say, scuffing your sneaker into the dirt.
“If that’s what you want, then I guess you’d better come back soon.”
*****
Auto-pilot, a positive attitude, and your friends.
The only things that could get you through breaking up with Leto Atreides.
Your friends can’t even bash him, can’t shit talk him. He’s just that fucking perfect.
Once or twice a day, one of them will text you: you thought of anything yet?
As in, have you thought of something about Leto that we can all hate on, and make it easier for you?
You realize how dumb it sounds on paper.
One of the richest, most handsome men on the planet asked you to marry him and you said no.
His money to sex appeal ratio is billions:billions. That’s never happened ever before, in the history of this or any other planet.
Worse, you miss him like crazy.
You try, again, to think of something you hate about him. Nada.
Your phone notification chimes.
Leto: It’s been a week. Can I ask you out yet?
Your phone slides out of your hand and onto the carpeted floor of your friend’s living room.
You cover your face with your hands and lay back on the couch.
When you and Leto had met, you’d thought it was a one-time thing with a hot guy because you’d both been bored at the same party. He'd had a limo for privacy, and that was all you'd cared about.
Leto had wanted to take you to dinner afterward. You’d told him you’d think about it, and to text you in a week. You’d google’d him, realized his last name was Atreides, and fully expected to never hear from him again.
But a week later, he’d texted you. He hadn’t waited for a response. A few minutes after he’d sent it-
Your phone starts ringing.
Your resolve isn’t strong enough to talk to him. You shove your phone between the couch cushions.
It stops ringing.
The notification chimes.
Because you’re weak, you dig it back out and look at the screen.
Leto: Open the door
Knock, knock, knock
Leto has on a long coat against the cold Seattle night. His hair is a little wet, curling out of control, from the mist in the air. He’s taking off his black leather gloves as you invite him in. His eyes look you over, a concert tee and bare feet. At least you have on underwear.
He licks his bottom lip and walks inside. He looks ridiculous in a studio apartment. You know for a fact his coat cost almost seven grand, because you’d bought it.
He runs a hand through his wet curls. One eye on you, he reaches into the inside pocket of his jacket. On his pinkie finger, not even fitting down all the way, is your ring, the one he’d had made for you. The complicated swirls of metal and stones shine even in the low light.
“You said you’d never give any of it back,” he says, looking at the ring.
“If you broke up with me, I wouldn’t have. But I did the breaking-up. Lucky you.”
“Lucky me,” he says quietly, with the deep sense of irony he seems to have been born with.
He slips the ring off of his finger and into the palm of his hand. He holds it out to you.
“I’m not taking that,” you fold your arms.
The corner of his mouth twitches, but his eyes stay serious and dark. “It’s yours. The house in Joshua Tree is yours. Your car, your clothes. You picked out most of the art at all the houses. Don’t make me bring your jewelry over because I’m pretty sure your friend’s rental insurance won’t cover six million dollars.”
His gaze sweeps over the room with a raised eyebrow.
“Baby, no offense to your friend, but you don’t belong here,” he says.
“No one’s too rich for an Ikea couch,” you say primly.
Leto’s eyes shut, like he needs a moment to process. “Please tell me you’re not sleeping on a couch. I can’t picture it.”
“I wasn’t born with a silver mine up my ass like you were,” you say.
“As you’ve told me,” he says curtly. “It’s not my fault I was born who I was. You’ve never held it against me before.”
“Because you never tried to use it against me.”
“I wanted to marry you. Most women would consider that a compliment.”
“The reason you love me is because I’m not most women.”
“You’ve got me there,” Leto says, straightening his coat, calming down. He looks at the hem of your long t-shirt. “Anything interesting on under that shirt?”
You tug down the fabric.
He looks at you from under his brows. “I tried money. I tried sex. I’m all out of ideas.” His brown eyes sparkle at you. “I could explain how I feel, but I’m sure you’re not interested.”
You try very hard not to pout.
Leto takes a step closer and you turn your head away from him. You can smell his cologne. In your bare feet, he's inches taller than you.
You can tell from his shoes that he's still wearing his suit from work. He'll have a few mints in his left pants pocket, and a huge wad of cash in the other.
Sometimes, if you're good, he lets you fuck yourself on his thigh, over his suit, right at his desk while he works. He doesn't even lock the door.
All things that shouldn't make you wet, but when it comes to Leto, everything does.
And the way he takes care of you afterward... that's the real magic.
“I miss your impractical outfits. Your skin, your light,” he says, stalking you even though you’re not walking away. “How needy you get in the middle of the night. You making me laugh. How I have to practically push you out of bed in the morning to get up. I love you.”
He rests a hand on your face. “Not a single minute has gone by this week that I don’t think about you.”
His other hand finds yours, lifts it to his lips. He kisses your ring finger, the right one, where your ring had been. He brushes his mustache over it.
“You can’t leave me. Just like I could never leave you,” he says. “You know that, right?”
Leto slowly lowers himself onto one knee. He holds your ring out to you, diamonds and emeralds winking.
“Please, come home,” he says, looking up at you with big, brown eyes.
This is the only time you’ve ever seen him not completely sure of himself. He might be nervous.
As much as you’d like to let him suffer, you can’t put off the inevitable. You belong together.
“I really meant it when I broke up with you,” you say, trying to make it clear.
The hesitation on his face dissolves. He gives you a small, relieved smile. “I know, sweetheart. Believe me. I know.”
“And I think we need to go somewhere, just the two of us for like, a couple of weeks at least. Reunion vacation,” you say.
“Whatever you want,” Leto says, still on one knee, but back to his old self. Amused, patient, and fully willing to entertain whatever whim you have.
You hold out your right hand and he slides the ring back onto your finger. You smile, looking at it. Then, you squat down in front of him, let your weight push you over so you can get Leto on his back on the floor, you straddling his lap.
He lets out an oof and a loud laugh.
“Back where you belong.” You say, playing with the curls of his hair.
His hands rest on your hips as he looks up at you. “I’m going to say this one more time and I’ll never bring it up again: do you want to get married?”
You think about it for a moment, winding his hair around your finger. “What would your family say if we didn’t?”
“If we never got married it would absolutely chap their asses to no end.”
“Let’s do that, then. Fuck ‘em.”
“No, baby, fuck me,” Leto says, pulling you down to kiss him.
You moan, tongues already tangling together as his hands lift your shirt to massage your ass. You kiss his face, hips rocking over his as he help you take off your underwear.
“You want to move to the couch?” You ask him. “My friend’s out for the whole night.”
Leto wants to argue. You see it on his face. He really wants to sweep you out of this perfectly acceptable, but very small, apartment and to somewhere more his style.
He lets loose a little sigh. “Sure. No one’s too rich for an Ikea couch, right?”
“That’s the spirit,” you smile as you kiss him.
“The things I do for you,” he mutters, a pleased look on his face.
“Since you’re in such a giving mood,” you say, kissing his neck and ear, “if you really want me to wear your ring, why don’t you give me the one that matters.”
His hands cup your face so he can look at you. “Always making mischief. Only Duke Atreides can wear the ducal signet.”
“It’d make a nice pendant. That’s all I’m saying.”
“I’ll have the engagement ring made into a necklace.” He licks along your pulse, making you moan. “It’ll look perfect swinging back and forth when I fuck you from behind.”
“Touch me,” you beg him.
He reaches behind you, slipping two fingers along your wet slit. You try to ride them, but he goes straight for your clit. You throw back your head, shaking.
“I’m going to spoil the shit out of you,” Leto pants, his teeth nipping the crook of your neck. “You’re going to come so many times, I’m going to carry you home passed out.”
He pushes his thick fingers into you, and you come from that alone. The rough pads of his fingers along your hot, sensitive skin. You feel your cunt clench hard. He fingers you deeper and you whimper, the cold of his heavy, metal ring pushing inside of you.
You buck against him, warming the metal, holding onto his fingers with your muscles and fucking them in and out of yourself.
“You’re going to take it off my finger if you keep doing that,” Leto growls.
“You can get it back out with your tongue,” you say.
He pulls his fingers away and you’re about to complain, but he flips you onto your back. He’d been a Greco-Roman wrestler in college and you’ve never stopped thanking him for it.
He holds up his hand, fingers and ring shiny and wet from you.
Leto parts his lips and slides it all into his mouth. His finger is naked when he pulls back out. He takes off his coat impatiently, bunching it up and shoving it under your hips so he can lay on the floor between your legs, eye-level with his goal.
You pull them up, already aching for his mouth.
“You want the ring?” He says, his words heavy and sluggish around the metal in his mouth. “I’ll give it to you, sweetheart.”
His mouth invades your cunt, licking shallowly at first, then deeper. His mustache and beard scrape your skin and you squirm. You’d missed that feeling so fucking much.
Your back arches when you feel the heavy circle of metal on the tip of Leto’s tongue. He thrusts it into your core, his tongue pushing it deep into your cunt before he laps gently at your clit.
“You feel that? The weight of the fucking world,” he looks down at your pussy, dragging his fingers through the dripping wetness, “but I think she can handle it. Fuck. I've never seen a prettier pussy.”
His fingers play with the ring inside of you as his mouth suctions to your clit.
He teases you, torments and over-stimulates you, until you’re a pile of what used to be a human woman on the floor. The mess of liquids has completely ruined his expensive coat. At some point, he’d fished his big ring out and put it back on his finger. He’d helped you to the couch. You’d helped yourself to sucking his cock.
You could tell he hadn’t come in at least few days. He’d been on a hair-trigger and you’d swallowed what felt like a gallon of cum, nose pressed to the neat hair above his cock, humming and gagging around him.
You nuzzle his thigh afterward, feeling like you want to purr, just from being near him again.
“Thank you, sweetheart,” Leto says, one hand stroking your hair while he looks down at you. “Couch isn’t so bad after all. We’ll have to send your friend new furniture to thank her for letting us use hers.”
You sit back up on the couch, close to Leto, your legs over his lap. “She’d rather have dresses. She loves the fabrics from your company in Florence.”
He nods. “Okay. Dresses it is.”
You stretch your arms over your head. “Speaking of clothes, I really missed mine.”
Leto gives you a look. “They’re waiting for you. Every night I walked past your dressing room and I could hear them crying your name.”
“Ha ha,” you roll your eyes.
“Or maybe that was me crying,” he says dryly, unfolding the hem of your t-shirt so it lays flat.
Your heart twists inside your chest. “Oh, Leto.”
“I’m sorry. I’ve never handled anything so badly in my entire life. That you would think, that I think, you’re a puppet or a plaything.” His beard twitches, his jaw sets hard.
“I know you don’t,” you say firmly. “Everything got all mixed up. It always does when your family gets involved.”
Leto kisses you, sucking on your lips, massaging them with his tongue. It’s intensely sweet, leaves your mouth a little sore and sensitive.
“From now on,” he says, knuckles brushing against your jaw lovingly, “anyone who says a word about you is cut off. They won’t cross me.”
“And what if I cross you?” You tease him.
“Your punishment is very, very different,” he says, biting your lip lightly. “But you’re never leaving me again.”
“Never,” you agree.
He rubs the ring on your right hand. “I’ve never seen a marriage that worked. Hell, never even a good relationship between two people. I don’t give a fuck about a wedding, but this ring means you’re everything to me.”
“I want to get you a ring too,” you say impulsively. “You can wear it on a chain around your neck.”
“I’m not much of a jewelry guy, baby,” Leto says reluctantly.
You clear your throat and tap his gigantic signet ring.
“Point taken,” he concedes.
Part of you is scared of his reaction, but your heart tells you what you're about to say is the right thing. "Do you still have your father's wedding ring? That's a family heirloom too, right? If you don't mind wearing it, I think I'd like that."
Leto rubs a hand over his beard. A cloud passes over his eyes and for a second, you think you've fucked everything up.
But his eyes, sometimes hard to decipher, are full of love and emotion. "That'd be perfect. I'd be honored to wear it."
You flop back on the couch with a contented sigh, the tension draining out of the air. “Good to know I still have the touch for making you do whatever I want.”
“A power you abuse regularly,” he says with a smirk. “And I wouldn’t have it any other way. I know you like to say I rule the family with an iron fist, but I think the truth is that you’ve had me under your thumb the entire time.”
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