Oscar Issac X Reader - Blog Posts

HEY GUYS! I'M BACK AND I'M STRONGER THAN EVER! AND GUESS WHAT?? IT'S MY BIRTHDAY! SEND ME SOME REQUESTS :))

(Note: I will not write any smut, since I am not comfortable with writing that type of stuff. No incest, rape, etc will not be written here either. Mentions of it will occur in angst fanfics, drabbles & such if requested.)

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Request: Oscar Isaac talking about how you both embarrassed your son.

The Heir to House Atreides Pt. 3

Masterlist

Pairing: Young Duke Leto Atreides x (Lady Jessica) reader

Tags: NSFW, smut, political intrigue, enemies to lovers, oral (f receiving), sex, kissing, penetration, humor, drugs, spice

A delegation from Arakis came to visit Caledan, bringing the coveted spice "melange" as a gift offering. In your training, you've studied spice and its tremendous effect on the human psyche. But you've never actually used it.

The pale representatives of House Harkonen - two men and a woman dressed in black leathers - arrived holding a special spice diffuser that their scientists have created, releasing it as an aerosol into the Duke's courtroom.

The effect was almost instant.

Using your training, you shielded your mind, staying focused on not letting yourself be influenced.

All the women around you on the cushions - the harem - began to sigh and leaned to comfortable positions on the cushions, letting out soft giggles. Their eyes took on a blue hue.

Your worried gaze sought Leto immediately. He was leaning back on his throne, jaw flexing as his teeth ground together. His open chest rose and fell slowly under his unbuttoned silks. But the tell was obvious. There was a blue, dreamy hue to his eyes that matched the rest of the room. He was affected. But trying to mask it.

Suddenly, one of the Harkonen visitors stepped up to Leto's throne. A calm, subtle move. She had her gaze cast down - practically devouring Leto with her eyes. Your hangs clenched into fists as a protective pulse triggered within you. You didn't want her looking at your - at Leto that way.

Suddenly, a shini g flash drew your attention, and you saw what she hid. A small blade tucked in her sleeve.

Leto was too disoriented to notice. You felt your heart speed up.

You were in front of him in a beat.

"Your grace, stay behind me!" You shielded him, bringing your gand to clutch her wrists. You pushed on her pressure points, and she opened her palms and dropped the blades to the ground with a metal clang.

In an instant, Leto's guards were at your sides, hauling her back.

In the commotion, you forgot to shield yourself against the spice, and the lightheaded sensation overtook you instantly. You gasped, feeling your knees buckled, and before you could stop yourself, you fell, slowly and gradually.

His arms caught you, lowering you to his lap and gathering your skirts in his hands.

You blinked several times, trying to gain focus through all of the commotion. The next thing you knew, you were being led out out of the room and into a safe room with him.

The overwhelming relief of having saved him warred with the surge of something deeper within you. Something hot and unrestrained. A sycadellic pull toward him. As the spice clouded your mind, your control and discipline began to slip, allowing your hidden feelings of admiration for him to surface.

"Your grace," You reached for him.

When you finally saw Leto, the substance enhanced his already existing beauty. You noticed flecks of gold in his eyes, a slight flush over his cheeks, the bitten skin of his parted lips, the light stubble along his jaw, the curls of his hair dropping over his eyes as they gazed lovingly at you.

You reached for him instinctively, your hand brushing his hand. The contact made your breath hitch, the warmth of his skin seeping through you.

"Your Grace," you whispered again, your voice trembling. But before you could say more, his hand cupped your face, his thumb brushing over your cheek with an intensity that sent shivers down your spine.

He brought his lips down on yours.

"You saved me," he murmured, his voice rough and low, his breath fanning across your lips. His mouth against yours, the taste of spice lingering.

Every movement seemed sharper, more defined, as if the world had slowed just for the two of you. You could hear the quiet rasp of his breathing, see the faint sheen of sweat on his temple, and feel the electric pull of his gaze.

The logical part of your mind was screaming to hold back, but the spice blocked it, leaving only him. Him, him, him...

His scent, his eyes, his warmth, his presence, and the way your body responded to it.

Your touch was like fire against his skin. He could hear nothing other than your shallow breaths, feel the soft brush of your smooth skin against his, and taste the sweetness of the melange on your lips.

The kiss was a collision of heightened sense, every unguarded thought the spice had unlocked in him. The Duke's hand tangled in your hair as the feel of you and the effect of the spice made his vision swim.

The barriers he kept so carefully constructed faltered under the weight of the spice.

Your bravery and strength had stunned him. The way you moved to shield him from the attack with such precision and fearlessness had his eyes widening in awe back in his courtroom.

But now, in the aftermath, you were vulnerable, leaning into him, and he couldn’t look away. The sight of you, flushed and breathless, sent a surge of something primal through him. It wasn’t admiration anymore. It was need.

Overwhelmed by the sight of you, he marveled in the sound of your voice and the way your eyes softened when they met his.

Leto picked you up in his arms and walked you towards the bed. He lay you down, planting wet, desperate kisses on your cheeks, then along your jaw, down your neck, collar, and breasts. Lowering the top of your dress to expose your breasts, he took one in each hand. A perfect fit. Perfect and terrifying like everything else about you.

He was overcome woth the need to feel close to you and he lowered his mouth to suck on your nipple, while rolling its twin between his fingers.

"Your grace!" You gasped. "Please, I..."

"I know," he rasped. He felt it, too. He wanted to keep you with him at this moment. To make it last forever. He wanted you to bear his heirs. You, you powerful, cunning witch who seduced him to further her sister's agenda and yet threw yourself in danger to save his life.

He bit down on your nub, sending a spark of pleasure straight to your core.

Your hand shot up to cup your mouth as you arched your back, grasping at his hair as he lowered down to level with your sex. Lifting up your skirts, he watched your naked opening. Before you could catch your breath, you felt his tongue traw smooth shapes between your lips, making your tense up. You began to understand the allure and danger of spice. This was the most surreal experience you've ever felt during intimacy. You couldn't contain your weka noises nor your body as it shuttered helplessly under his expert mouth. "Please, please, my Duke. I cannot stand much longer-"

Before you could finish your sentence, a wave of pleasure rolled through you from deep within, attacking all of your senses, you felt it to your fingertips.

Your head rolled back, hair spilling over your face as you shook for minutes on end, chasing what seemed like the longest climax you've ever had. When your boddy began to tremor with aftershock, your eyelids became heady.

"Not yet, love." Leto’s dreamlike voice brought you back to consciousness. "I want to feel you around me."

You nodded excitedly. You wanted the same thing but could only express it through a series of moans of the word. "Please, please, please..."

He'd allined himself against your opening. He was painfully hard and needed to feel you, or he would surely lose his mind. Entering you slowly, the heat of your walls around him felt like heaven. He moaned, seeking out more of your touch. He grasped your wrists above your head and kissed you long and hard, relishing the way your moans mixed with his.

Whether he sped up or slowed down, the outcome was the same pleasurable pulse rushing through his body.

"Fuck," he'd gasped with a strained voice, pumping in and out of you. "Oh fuck, Jessica. I can't get enough of you."

You sympathized. The feeling was wholeheartedly mutual.

There was a knock at the door.

"Not now." Leto growled before diving back down to plant more kisses along your sweat soaked skin.

He sped up, and you both began to strain, the chase new, undiscovered levels of love that you could only provide to one another. Before long, your climax reached you, making the two of you shake and cry out in a tangle of limbs and unimaginable pleasure.

Even as the haze of the spice began to lift, its effects lingered, leaving the world sharper, more vivid. The ghost of Leto’s touch still clung to you, and the weight of his gaze felt as though it had been burned into you.

You wrapped your arms around yourself, seeking stability, yet something felt different - an unfamiliar presence, subtle but undeniable, stirring deep within your belly.

Your breath hitched as the realization soread. Instinctively, your hands flew to your stomach, trembling as they pressed against the soft silk of your nightdress.

This was no fleeting effect of the spice. No lingering haze clouding your thoughts. This was life. New and small.

You staggered back a step, clutching at your middle as the truth settled in: the Duke’s legacy, the one you were sent here to create, had already begun.

And yet, it wasn’t the Sisterhood’s prophecy that brought emotions to your chest—it was something far more dangerous. A love for this child. A need to protect and raise it as more than a pawn.

◇◇

"It is done, then," the Reverend Mother Mohiam intoned, her voice echoing with finality across the room.

Your eyes darted to Leto, sitting at his council room instinctively, searching for his reaction, your gaze moving protectively to your stomach as though shielding a fragile secret now laid bare.

Leto’s gaze followed the movement, narrowing before it widened with realization. A heavy silence fell over the room.

Leto’s jaw clenched, and with measured intensity, he pushed himself up from the table and strode toward you, every step commanding, his piercing gaze locked onto yours. "Leave us," he barked.

The Reverend Mother’s expression was satisfied, almost smug before bowing gracefully. Her robes flowed against the floor as she exited, leaving the two of you alone.

You turned to Leto, his eyes dropped to your stomach, then lifted to meet yours. His face was unreadable, his lips pressed into a thin line as he studied you. The weight of his scrutiny made your pulse quicken.

"Are you pregnant?" His voice was low, controlled, but you heard the faint tremor beneath. Was it anger, shock?

You drew yourself up, letting years of training steel your composure. "I am," you said, the words steady but soft, as if speaking too loudly might shatter the delicate moment.

His brows furrowed, the expression making him look younger, less the noble Duke and more a man standing at the precipice of change. He stared at you for what felt like an eternity, his emotions warring in the depths of his hazel eyes.

Then, to your utter surprise, his lips parted with a soft laugh. His arms opened suddenly, pulling you into his embrace with a tenderness that stole your breath.

"You carry my child," he murmured against your hair, the words reverent. His grip tightened as though as though he could lose you at any moment.

You closed your eyes, unsure whether to feel triumphant, terrified, or touched by the warmth of his reaction. You wispered a promise to him then. "I will protect him with my life."

The Heir of House Atreides pt. 2

Masterlist

Pairing: Young Duke Leto Atreides x (Lady Jessica) reader

Tags: NSFW, smut, political intrigue, enemies to lovers, oral (f receiving), sex, kissing, penetration, humor,

"I wonder if you even know what sincerity feels like,"

His words stung, though you knew they were not entirely untrue. The Bene Gesserit had trained you to bend the truth into a tool, a weapon, but sincerity? That was a luxury rarely afforded to a Sister on a mission.

Still, Leto’s accusation stirred something within you - a challenge.

"My devotion to you is true, Your Grace," you said softly, holding his gaze.

He cupped your chin. "Do you know what I despise most about politics?"

You shook your head.

"It’s the constant pretense," he said, his voice bitter. "The lies, the games... Everyone I meet wears a mask, and I suspect you’re no different."

Not for the first time, you wondered if Leto’s mistrust was born of wisdom or simply the weariness of being thrust into power too young.

"I have no mask," you whispered, though you knew the words were hollow even as you spoke them.

He raised an eyebrow, his expression skeptical. How could you prove sincerity to a man who saw through every facade? And yet, the fire in his hazel eyes sparked something within you - a desire not just to complete your mission but to earn his trust, his approval.

You leaned closer, your lips brushing his ear as you whispered, "Command me, Your Grace, and I will obey."

He pulled back slightly, his gaze searching yours as if trying to unravel the enigma before him. "Anything?" he asked, his tone both curious and cautious.

You nodded despite the turmoil swirling within you.

For a moment, he said nothing, his eyes locked onto yours. Then, slowly, a faint smile curved his lips. "Very well," he said, his voice soft but firm. "From now on, you will speak only the truth to me. No lies, no half-truths. Do you understand?"

Your breath hitched. Of all the commands he could have given, this was the most dangerous. To speak the truth was to risk exposing the Sisterhood’s plans, your mission, and the prophecy itself. And yet, refusing him was not an option.

"I do," you said finally, the words feeling like a noose tightening around your neck.

"Good," he said, his smile widening.

He released your chin and stepped back, the weight of his gaze still heavy upon you. "You may go," he said, dismissing you with a wave of his hand.

You bowed, your heart pounding as you turned and left the room. Though you had prepared for countless challenges as a Bene Gesserit, you couldn’t shake the feeling that Leto Atreides was a far more formidable opponent than you had anticipated.

The young duke, ever the consummate politician, moved through the court with practiced control, greeting his guests with charm. His voice was low and smooth over the conversation as he welcomed each newcomer to the grand Atreides ballroom.

You stood a step behind him, scanning the crowd out of habit. Then someone entered. A figure draped in silks, her face concealed by a veil. The unmistakable posture, the subtle way she carried herself - it was one of your sisters.

Unease tightened your shoulders. Why was she here? Had the Sisterhood sent her to spy on you? To test you?

"Do you know her?" Leto’s voice was quiet, disrupting your thoughts.

Turning to him, you offered a pleasant smile, the kind you’d practiced countless times. "No," you said smoothly.

For a moment, he said nothing, simply staring at you. His hazel eyes, warm and inviting to most, now held an intensity enough to unnerve you.

You felt the weight of his gaze, each second stretching unbearably long.

"Try again," he said at last, his voice calm but edged with command. "And this time, tell me the truth."

The air stilled. He let you stew in your discomfort.

You swallowed. At last, you offered him a smile and a pleasing tone. "No, I do not know that woman, your grace."

His brows furrowed as he looked down on you, studying your eyes. Then his lips quirked up and he exhaled sharply with a laugh.

You searched behind him, seaking out the person of interest and placing him. Indeed, the house Fenring representative was watching the Duke.

It was a routine the two of you developed. Him figuring out when you had lied and when you had told the truth. This time, you'd lied. And you both knew it. But he wanted to probe more, it didn't show when he looked about the room bringing a glass to his lips. He cleared his throat, murmuring quietly with conversational tone as hi turned to face you.

"The man in the left corner of the room. House Fenring. He's been glaring daggers at my back all night." He put his hand in his pocket.

You frowned, studying the man, then widened your eyes in surprise followed by understanding. You suppressed a laugh, turning back to the man in front of you. "That man is constipated, your grace."

Leto froze, nearly spitting into his glass before recovering quickly. "I see." He clearer his throat. "Thank you."

You cast your gaze to the ground, allowing yourself a small smirk.

◇◇

To the Duke, you were an enigma. You carried yourself with the quiet precision of a Bene Gesserit, every movement deliberate, every word calculated. And yet, there was something about you that defied his prejudice. It both confused and intrigued him.

The Bene Gesserit fascinated and unnerved him in equal measure. They orchesstrated hidden truths, weaving secret threads into the fabric of politics. Their power and influence was insidious, yet they disguised themselves as dutiful servants and concubines. He respected their brilliance, even as he feared what it meant for men like him.

The more he observed you, the more questions he had.

Unlike the cold efficiency he had come to expect from your kind, you displayed unexpected warmth. You didn’t just speak to the servants - you engaged with them, offering conversation. He’d even seen you help a young maid struggling with your intricate gown, your hands working to untangle the fabric.

He told himself it didn’t matter. Your motivations were irrelevant. You were Bene Gesserit, still dangerous.

Why? He wondered.

Was this some deeper manipulation, an attempt to disarm him with displays of humanity?

He had watched you more than he cared to admit, his gaze lingering on your lips,l your eyes, your body. Your beauty disarmed him, unsettled him.

He watched you now, your face flush and lips parted.

There was a thrill in it, a cruel satisfaction in knowing he could shake you. He smirked, his hand reaching down to rub your clit as he thrust in and out of you.

The sun had set hourse ago, and not being able to fall asleep, hed sought you out in the quiet of the palace halls and brought you to his bed.

Once alone, the Duke wasted no time in removing your garments and laying you on his silk sheets - while he came to kneel at your feet, hand lifting your thighs onto his shoulders. He lay gentle kisses, licks and bites along your thighs, making your shiver - eager for more.

He drawled, toung brushing against your clothed center. "I'm a Duke. A representative of my house in a vast galactic empire. I should be focusing on interplanetary relations and trades. My mind shouldn't be occupied by the green eyes of some vile sorceress who bewitched me to spy on me."

"Your grace–" you meant to defend yourself from his description, but you were cut off. He tore at the sild fabric of your nightgown and bared your cunt in front of him. You were already panting from his teasing of your inner thighs, so by the time he began tongive attention to your folds and clit, they had already been coated in slick. "Oh!" You arched your back, as your eyes rolled back. The young duke has had extensive experience in pleasuring women. The other men you have been with didn't even compare.

Your gaze sought him again, his hooded eyes watching you as he buried his tongue deep inside you, building up pulses of pleasure in your nerves. "Please, your grace," you panted. "If you go on, I will arrive to soon–"

Too late. His tongue sped up on your clit, fast, unforgiving. Your body shook with intensity.

The two of you were wrapped in each other's arms, him slowly thrusting in and out of you. You two were gasping against each other, your hair cutaining your face in sweaty stramds. You had begun to feel an orgasm build up in your core, your arms wrapped around his muscular, warm shoulders, and your fingers grasping at his black curls.

It seemed the two of you were nearing your peak when he suddenly whispered against your lips, "When are you going to betray me?"

Too consumed in the moment, you met his eyes. The sensation from your core was overwhelmingly, painfully, amazing.

The words were accusatory, but the defeated air he spoke them with told you he'd made peace with the idea of your your betrayal. More so. His eyes conveyed that he would let you do anything to him.

While Leto pushed into you with desperate force, chasing that feeling. Beneath that wall of defense, something deeper stirred. Through your truthsayer training, you were able to pick up desire, but also fear in him.

Not fear you or of what you were, but of what you could become to him.

Of what the two of you would become together.

The Heir of House Atreides

Masterlist

Pairing: Young Duke Leto Atreidies x (Lady Jessica reader)

Tags: NSFW, smut, forced proximity, tension, angst, spies, fingering, kissing

Synopsis: Reader is Lady Jessica, the future mother of Paul Atreidies, a bene geserit witch sent on a mission disguised as a concubine in Leto atreides harem but the young duke is not iust some pretty fice but a warrior, strategist and charismatic politician. And true to the book, it ends up falling for the Duke. This is a fanfic, so it will not be accurate to the Canon. Enjoy at your own discretion.

You were sent by the Bene Gesserit to join the young Duke's harem. Your task was clear: to bear the young Atreides heir and provide a daughter for Baron Harkonnen's nephew to marry, ensuring their union would bring forth the prophesized Kwisatz Haderach. Trained extensively in manipulation, seduction, and the Weirding Way, you were chosen for this mission because your features matched the traits the Sisters knew Duke Leto would find appealing, based on studying his past flings and relationships.

The Reverend Mother had assured you, "This task should be simple for you." Through your thruthsayer training, you sensed the genuine of her words.

Upon entering the Atreides court, you wasted no time observing Leto, analyzing his behavior with the other concubines to discern what he admired in women. He was exceptionally tall, his dark skin contrasting sharply with the pale complexion you were used to. Scars and healed cuts adorned his athletic build, marking him as every bit the warrior prince. He carried himself with an aura of nobility that set him apart from the ruthless political games you'd grown used to during your training.

Leto Atreides was the youngest politician you had ever encountered. His unwrinkled skin contrasting him from the majority of octogenarian politicians you often shadowed with the Sisters. Despite your closeness in age, his wisdom was unnerving. Leto had a way of commanding a room without raising his voice, his quiet authority both compelling and disarming. You often found yourself surprised at his knowledge, asking aloud how he knew so much about niche subjects. His answer was always matter-of-fact: "I read about things I’m curious about."

Then there was the first shameful moment when he caught you using your training on him.

It had been after you a heated kiss, on his bed. His hand had slid up your thigh beneath your tight robes, and you made a calculated show of shuddering at his touch. "Your Grace, please… be gentle. You are my first."

The words made him pause. His hazel eyes narrowed. "I’ve never been lied to by a concubine before."

You froze. "Your Grace?"

"You are a Bene Gesserit, are you not?" His gaze fell to your lips, taking on that look of curiosity.

After a moment’s hesitation, you admitted, "…I am."

His lips pressed into a thin line. "Then you have extensive training in the arts of pleasure. I’ve read about it. That Sisters are taught such things from a young age. It’s barbaric."

The words slipped out before you could stop them: "Watch your tongue!"

Your eyes widened in worry. Not only had you just disrespected royalty, but you had also used the Voice on him - out of sheer emotion, no less. Years of rigorous training unraveled in a single moment.

Reciting the Litany Against Fear in your mind, you regained your composure. "Please, Your Grace, forgive me." You softened your voice, bowing low to show bow, all the while arching your back slightly to catch his attention. "I was merely trying to please you."

You played the scared card, hoping to salvage the situation.

"Rise," he commanded.

You obeyed, and he took your hand in his, his lips brushing lightly over your wrist. His hand traveled under your silk skirts, fingers seeking your bare core. His amber eyes stayed fixed on yours as his fingers slipped between your walls, gliding between your slick folds, while curious eyes watched for any reaction.

Knowing what he wanted - or what any man would want - you released a soft, high-pitched whimper.

"Tell me," Leto said, his voice low and steady as his gingers strummed your clit, "does your Sisterhood teach you to enjoy this, or is it all an act?"

You blinked, willing a blush to creep into your cheeks. “I only want you to enjoy yourself, Your Grace,” you gasped, avoiding the question.

It wasn’t as though you could tell him the truth about the prophecy or your mission to bear his child.

He smiled faintly, but it was skeptical. "That will not happen. You are my concubine, not my betrothed."

Desperate to regain control, you foguht against the growing heat in your core and belly as you confessed, "I wish to be your favorite."

He laughed, just as you predicted, though it carried an edge of disbelief.

“Your Grace, I’m being sincere,” you insisted, taking his hand and pressing your lips to it even as your felt the tremmers of your orgasm begin. "I will do whatever it takes. Whatever you want. I’m yours-"

You were cut off by your own moans as your body shook with your climax. Coming down from your high, the moment grew more heated as his lips brushed your throat. "I wonder if you even know what sincerity feels like," he murmured.