#dune part 2

[kasagia]

Dancing With The Devil

Pairing: Na-Baron Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x fem! royal!reader Summary: Your whole life revolved around court intrigues, gaining influence, and extracting the darkest secrets from important nobility. As a woman, there wasn't much you could do or count on. Unless you provide yourself with status and position through a good marriage. You've made your life perfect. You had a complete plan and vision for your future—even after the unexpected loss of your fiancé, you managed to rise up and find another good match—until the Na-Baron decided to interfere with it and ruin everything you had been working for. You were about to find out for yourself that dancing with the devil never led to anything good. Even if the consequences of this come after some time... Warning: kind of royal au!; 18+; violence; blood; Feyd Rautha; death; smut; Inspired by: Bridgerton and "Would've, could've, should've" - Taylor Swift Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen's Masterlist ~•♤♤♤•~ Main Masterlist

"What do you mean by saying that Paul Atreides is dead?"

"Exactly that." Your mother replies with her typical calm, adjusting the crown on her head in the mirror. "He and his family went on a diplomatic mission to Arrakis. They were attacked by… a group of rebels. More specifically, it was probably Sardaukar, but we all know who benefited more from the death of the Atreides." You shudder at the mere mention of the Harkonnens. However, you still can't get over the shock of the revelation you've just heard.

"It is impossible. They couldn't kill them all, after all... what about Caladan? And the plans of the Bene Gesserit? The Emperor would never…"

"The Emperor is not the same man you knew. As he grows older, he grows not in wisdom but in fear. He is more afraid of maintaining his throne than of the good of the empire. And, as we all know, Paul was his most likely successor. So he killed him before he could kill him." She explains this to you, making sure that her appearance is impeccable. She turns from the mirror and nods to the maid, ordering her to give her a coat in your family's colours and embroidered with the decorations and symbols of your house.

"I... are you just trying to tell me that I don't have a fiancé?"

"Unless you want to marry his corpse, yes, that's what I am trying to say to you from the beginning." Your mother snorts in amusement, watching you as you are still in shock, trying to process this unexpected, terrible news. The shock in you slowly gives way to anger. This wasn't how things were supposed to look.

"Mother, you should know how tragic this situation is. After all, the season is almost over; when will I get any suitors? Should I be without any for a year? And then another one? You know perfectly well that most of the descendants of high families have already announced their courtship. Am I supposed to end up as a spinster?"

"Calm down. The season isn't over yet. Since... Caladan has an unstable political situation, Princess Irulan suggested that we take over the main, final celebrations. All you have to do is dress nicely, present yourself well, and catch whatever poor young men come here." You snort mockingly at her feeble attempts to comfort and reassure you.

"I won't have a better husband than Paul. He was the perfect match! Not ugly, easy to control, filthy rich, only son who was supposed to inherit everything—where will you find me another husband like that?" You ask furiously, more concerned about the consequences of his death for you than the fact that you will never meet your fiancé ever again. You couldn't end up as a spinster. You couldn't marry just anyone, either, or, worse, end up as a mere concubine. You didn't spend all these years beautifying your appearance and studying politics, martial arts, economics, and biological sciences to marry some insignificant idiot from an unknown family and planet.

"It's going to be hard, I won't lie, but we'll get through it. We are Y/L/N. We never give up and always achieve our goals. You're too beautiful, darling, to become a spinster. And too smart to marry some insignificant lord."

"You too were, and yet you ended up with my father."

"I married him out of love and love... love makes us do stupid things. But you are smarter than me. You can do much better, I have no doubt about that. We'll give you a week of mourning before we throw the first party. During this time, we will review... available men. To know who to focus on." You nod, agreeing with her plan. You couldn't immediately rush out to find another suitor when your previous one had just been buried beneath the sands of Arrakis. You had to pretend you were crying for him.

It wasn't like you didn't care about Paul at all. You liked him. He was a good conversation partner and a nobel man. But in this situation, you felt more sorry for yourself. You were left with no fiancé, no suitor, and no other alternative.

And if there was anything worse for a woman in this world than death, it was either infertility or becoming a spinster whom no one paid any attention to. You could have handled every other situation perfectly well, but not such humiliation.

Or at least that's what you thought until you crossed paths with the one and only Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen.

You stand against the wall, sipping your champagne with probably the sourest expression on your face. The masquerade ball had already started an hour ago and you still couldn't find anyone whose attention you could attract.

You and your mother had looked through... all the possible options, but none of the men who came here were fooled by your sweet swan appearance. And if he did, he proposed after just a few minutes of conversation. You may have been in a desperate situation, but you weren't looking for a desperate man.

Standing against the wall allowed you to take a closer look at the nobles present at the ball. You caught a few rumours and scandalous behaviour—touching too long, stolen kisses, and a few other things—but you didn't feel like thinking about them at all when the vision of your future looked so bleak.

Your bad mood is only fueled by Irulan's presence and how she's clearly having a great time at your funeral. As if she had achieved another one of her many victories. Lucky bitch.

You sigh and place your glass on the tray of a passing servant. You are about to leave the masquerade ball when your attention is caught by a man standing alone on the other side of the room.

His outfit is… unusual. His black coat is finished with sharp metal decorations, making it resemble more of a fancy armour than a classic formal outfit. The black mask completely covers his face and the back of his head, leaving only his full lips and part of his defined jaw to your eyes. 

And you really like those lips. Very much. You decide that today you will test their softness when the stranger's cold blue eyes meet yours. A shiver of excitement runs through you as you imagine the things you could do with this intoxicatingly beautiful man. And maybe it's the alcohol you drank or your pathetic longing to be the centre of someone's attention that makes you feel brave enough to approach him.

As you slowly approach him and look at him closely, you realise what he's disguised as. The black swan. It was so good for you that you decided to be the white one tonight.

However, the man suddenly disappears in the crowd of people. You frown and look around, searching for him, but somehow you can't. It was as if he had vanished into thin air. You freeze when you suddenly feel someone's presence behind you. A shiver of excitement runs down your spine as the man's husky whisper echoes in your ear.

"Looking for someone, my lady?" You turn your head to meet the same icy blue irises up that were watching you from across the room a moment ago.

Goosebumps run through you as his gaze inexplicably hypnotises you. This could be your opportunity; you just had to play your cards well and make him more interested in you. The circumstances and scenery were perfect—downright romantic, like from a book. You just had to make this handsome devil equally enchanted by you. You must have caught his attention if he decided to play with you and chase you to get to you first.

You also need to find out who owns those captivating lips and eyes whose colour rivals the ocean waves. Oh, and how you desperately wanted to immerse yourself in them...

"My lord." You curtsy, turning fully to face him to study him even more carefully. He was tall, with a muscular figure visible under his clothes that you wanted to explore with your fingers. You lick your lips, shifting your gaze back to his, and catch him assessing you with his eyes, just like you had just done with him. "I couldn't help but notice how... coincidentally, we fit together with our choice of outfits."

"Indeed, we do. Although I personally think you would look better in black, little swan." The nickname he gives you and the arrogance in his voice make you snort mockingly, raising an eyebrow at him defiantly as you become even more fascinated by this mysterious man.

"Why is that?"

"You may look like a tiny, innocent bird in this white, pretty dress, but your eyes—your eyes give it all away, my lady. You can try to deceive men with this... undoubtedly beautiful sight for the eyes, but not all of us fall so easily to the false mirage—maybe only lesser men—but you're not desperate enough to seek the attention of a mere duke or count, who would be easily led by you, are you?"

"And who are you to make such bold assumptions?" You ask furiously, glaring at him as he gently strokes the collar of your dress with his fingertip, playing a little with the white feathers that were attached to it. He smirks, his white teeth gleaming dangerously, reminding you of the smile of a wolf before it catches its prey.

"Definitely not a lesser man." He replies, undaunted by your anger. His hand slides from the collar of your dress over your shoulder as he grabs your gloved hand and presses a soft kiss on it, and you can barely keep yourself from closing your eyes and giving in to the pleasant feeling of having his plush, full lips so close and yet so far from your skin. "May I? I believe that this beautiful dress will look better while moving…"

At this point, you should refuse. Thank him for his company and go find a... more suitable one. But you can't deny that he's read you accurately so far and that he's touched a part of you that you haven't shown to anyone. You were too curious to just let him go; you wanted to stay with him longer and see what would come of this acquaintance with him.

So you nod and let him lead you to the dance floor. A few heads turn towards you, but you can't reach anything other than him, and the feeling of his larger hand gently holding yours in a strange way makes your heart flutter slightly.

You feel like he's put a spell on you, and strangely, you don't want to break out of it at all.

His eyes never leave yours. You're almost dizzy from how intensely he's looking at you. He places his hand on your waist, pulling you a little closer to him. He holds you tight enough so that you can feel his touch on you, and it isn't painful for you. He leads you into a dance with incredible grace for a man, spinning you around to the rhythm of the music.

He's so close to you that you can smell his scent, which is as addictive as his burning attention. The smell of anise, musk, and hot spices assaulting your nostrils makes you involuntarily lean towards him, wanting to be as close to him as good manners allow. However, you know that if you spend another few minutes longer in his presence, all your mother's teachings will be forgotten in favour of... getting closer to this compelling man.

"So what do you believe in then? If you don't believe in coincidence? Destiny?" You ask, trying to shake off this strange feeling of loss of control he's giving you.

And you almost fail miserably, barely keeping yourself from blushing as his low chuckle makes you burn even more for him. You had to find some flaw in him—something that would turn you off if you didn't want to lose your mind completely, because for now, everything about this man was sinfully pleasant.

"We create our destiny. Don't you agree?"

"Sometimes things are beyond your control, my lord." You disagree with him, keeping your searching gaze on him as his hands move to your hips.

You bite your bottom lip as he lifts you up in one fluid motion, following the steps of the dance. The ease with which he shifts you and spins you so that your back is against his chest as he sets you down on the floor again makes your cheeks blush as you think of all the ways you could use his large, strong hands. You feel like a horny teenager in her first season. And you don't like it at all.

"And sometimes, all we need to do is take a step and reach out for what is rightfully ours." He whispers in your ear, wrapping his hands around you, never stopping his movements.

You swallow thickly as he places your joined hands on your shoulder, his thumb brushing against your bare collarbone. You bite your tongue, trying to hold back a moan when you feel the rough skin of his hands, confirming your suspicions that his toned physique is built from years of training and fighting. This fuels your desire for him even more.

"Possible. But our reputation suffers because of it. You can't escape the eyes of society. No matter how hard you try, my lord." Your eyes fall on the couples dancing around you.

You gasp when he suddenly wraps his arm around your waist and turns you around, forcing you to face him again. You almost bump into his chest, completely unprepared for such a sudden move from him. He gives you a mischievous smirk and a wink, amused at how he managed to catch you off guard and off-balance. You purse your lips, causing his eyes to shift to them.

"Do you know what freedom you can achieve when you throw off the yoke of your reputation? How many opportunities are open to you?" He whispers hoarsely, leaning towards you. You lift your chin, meeting his gaze as your heart beats frantically against your chest. You get the feeling he has in his mind... something much less pure and decent. And you almost trembled in his arms with excitement.

"Do you know how many doors close in front of you? No one wants to associate with a vile person rejected by society."

"Oh, but those nefarious always seem to get their attention, don't you think? They are invited out of sheer curiosity about how they will behave and what exciting and forbidden things they will do. They are the source of the most virulent gossip; you won't deny it, right, little swan?"

"Possible. Are you one of them?" You ask, curious about his identity.

He gives you a mysterious, mocking smirk as he chuckles throatily. He leans down and brushes his lips against your ear. You sigh as his lips press a small kiss to your earlobe, your heart racing as you feel him so close to you. You wait in suspense for what he will do next, completely oblivious to the people around you, who, fortunately, are too busy with themselves to notice what is happening around them. You'd never been so happy about wearing a mask before, even though it was a way to protect your identity and allow yourself... to do a little more in such a public place.

"Oh darling… what if I told you that I'm the worst of them all?" He whispers seductively, biting your ear. You gasp, digging your fingers into his arm, holding on to anything as he plays cruelly with you.

At this point, you should thank him for this dance, turn around, and find another company. But there's something... magnetic about this man that draws you closer and closer to him.

Maybe it's the thrill of the unknown—the excitement of how different this man seems from the rest of the people here. And even though your mind is screaming at you, and rightly so, to back away before you burn yourself with the fire that burns from him, you want to follow him like a moth, desperately wanting to bathe in the glow of these new sensations he is giving you.

So, without thinking about it for a long time, you grab his hand and lead him out of the room. Surprisingly, he obediently follows you, not questioning you as the two of you walk through various corridors. You lead him towards the exit—straight to the palace gardens, where there should be much fewer people who couldn't... overhear you.

You drag him into the maze, taking him to one of the dead ends. Before he can say anything, you lean in and kiss him lustfully. You moan at the feeling of his soft lips caressing yours, and you tighten your hands on his shoulders, pulling him closer to you. The metal trim of his outfit digs into you, but you ignore the feeling, completely absorbed by the way his tongue slips into your waiting mouth.

Under different circumstances, if it were known to him who you were and there was no mask covering half of your face, you would never have dared to take such a... bold step. But now, with him so close to you and your identity safe under the white feather mask, you moan into his mouth, letting yourself bask in the feeling of desire.

You and Paul... fooled around a few times, but the furthest you went was touching each other. But with this man, the man whose name you didn't know and who was currently sucking the air from your mouth, you felt completely different.

All your nerves were on fire. Every inch of you was begging for his touch and undivided attention. You couldn't help but moan and melt into his hands as he possessively tightened his grip on your hip, pulling you much closer to his body.

Your bodies fit together perfectly, like two pieces of a puzzle, and you couldn't help but wonder if your souls were also two halves that fit together thoroughly.

Just when you feel like you can't go without air any longer, his mouth stops attacking yours, instead caressing and nipping at the skin of your jaw and moving to your neck.

Suddenly, the corset you're in becomes too tight, and breathing becomes increasingly difficult for you as his lips mark your neck, making your already lust-crazed heart beat faster. You whine, your hands tracing his muscular torso, as you find yourself in extreme conflict. You know you should push him away and that you shouldn't let him mark you so clearly, but on the other hand, he brings you so much pleasure and makes you shiver just from the feeling of his lips on your neck. You dread to think what he would do to you if he moved a little further south of your body—if he kneeled in front of you and did to you things you only read about in the privacy of your chamber.

You quickly cover your mouth with your hand as you are about to scream when his teeth dig into your neck. He sucks on the sensitive skin, making sure to leave a clear mark on you. Your eyes widen in shock when you hear a threatening growl from him. His hand grabs yours tightly, removing it from your mouth, and his icy blue eyes flash with anger, giving you a furious glare.

"Hold back your moans and screams one more time, and I will make sure the people in the palace hear you crying because of me, little swan. And believe me, I can make it only pleasant for me, so don't test my patience and mercy and be a good girl for me." He growls, tightening his grip on your hand that he pinned to the hedge behind you.

He kisses you hard, chastisingly, as he takes a step towards you, closing any space between you. Your breasts rub against his chest as he presses against you, and you think you can feel his hardness through the layers of your clothes.

A short gasp escapes you as his hand travels beneath the layers of your dress. His fingers take their time caressing the skin of your legs, slowly climbing up to where you needed to have him as soon as your eyes fell on him. You decide to compromise with him and pull him into a kiss so as not to attract unwanted attention from any of the guests.

You gasp as his fingers brush against your clothed core. His raspy chuckle as he discovers the undeniable flood between your legs makes you blush with embarrassment and anger. Your breathing quickens as you reach out to grab his cock, squeezing him painfully tight for teasing you. A loud moan leaves his lips swollen from kissing, making you want to extract other, equally temptingly beautiful sounds from him.

But before you can do anything, he drops to his knees in front of you and lifts the folds of your white dress. You shiver, feeling his breath between your legs as he takes his time stroking your thighs, caressing them with his soft lips.

You moan as he sucks and bites the skin of your inner thighs, teasing you as he blatantly ignores your needy pussy. You dig your fingers into his shoulders, biting your lip as you try to pull him to your clothed core. He growls while spanking your pussy. You scream at the sudden, burning sensation, your legs shaking, so only his strong hands are keeping you upright.

You tilt your head back, resting it against the hedge, and moan softly as he presses a teasing kiss on your clothed core. His fingers gently slip under your panties, only to rip the fabric off of you in one quick movement.

You sigh as his nose brushes against your folds as he inhales your scent, stuffing your torn panties into his pants pocket. His tongue gently and teasingly tastes your wetness, making you even more frustrated. You push aside the fabric of your dress and take his hand that was exploring the curve of your ass and pull it to your pussy which is screaming for his attention.

His chuckle stimulates your clit, making you moan and pushing your hips into him in a desperate attempt to find a release. He growls angrily at your impatience and grabs your hips in an iron grip, positioning you to his liking and plan.

You hold your breath as his fingers gently enter you, soothing the burning feeling of emptiness inside you. His tongue plays with your clit, sucking every last drop of your juices out of you, as if he's as addicted to your taste and sounds as you are to the feeling of his touch and the way he fills you.

You feel your orgasm building. You close your eyes in blissful relief, allowing yourself to moan, not caring if anyone can hear you. Your fingers dig into his neck. He growls against your pussy as you draw his blood from him and intensifies his ministrations. His fingers move in and out quickly as he sucks on your most sensitive spot, as if he's trying to mark you there and leave you a hickey there.

Your fingers run up his neck. You want to pull his hair—hurt him as much as he hurts you. Your fingertips find their way beneath the black fabric of his mask covering his head, but when you reach out to grab his hair, you're met with bare skin.

And then everything falls into place in your head.

When the realisation comes to you, you freeze, you lose all feeling, and all you can do is stand there and think about who you let under your dress and between your legs.

Harkonnen. You were being eaten by a fucking Harkonnen, and judging by his body structure, voice, and the guest list you've looked through hundreds of times, by one and only Feyd-Rautha, Na-Barron of Giedi Prime.

You tremble, not at all because of the feeling of how his fingers and tongue work continuously on your orgasm, intensifying your sensations as he lets out soft moans at the taste of you, but because pure terror overwhelms your whole body. You unconsciously tighten the hug on his neck, which only increases the intensity of his… efforts on your wet folds, as he wants to take you over the edge.

You take advantage of the fact that he's too... distracted and push him away from you. You grab the skirt of your dress and run fast, as far away from him as possible. Your heart races as you hear his soft growl before, to your even greater dismay, he chases after you.

You run through a maze, trying to lose Harkonnen among many paths, hoping he will reach a dead end and lose your trail, or at least to find some group of people. After all, he won't be able to do anything to you in front of witnesses—or maybe he could?

You tremble at the thought that the same hands that cut the throats of servants and concubines, hands that killed prisoners in the arena and people in battle, touched you and were the cause of your... your pleasure.

How stupid you were! How could you allow yourself to be seduced by Harkonnen and carried away by your stupid emotions and desires? You mentally curse him, his family, and Paul Atreides, whose death made you have to chase men again to find a suitable husband. And especially you curse how amazing and extraordinary you felt under the touch of this bloodthirsty beast, whose house has been nefarious for centuries.

You run forward, not daring to turn around to see if he's still chasing you. You're so lost in your thoughts and so scared that you accidentally run into someone. You gasp as a hand grips your waist tightly, preventing you from falling. You have a heart attack, thinking that it could be him and that he has somehow outsmarted you. But when you look up, you don't see blue irises, but green ones.

"Forgive me, my lord. I didn't mean to..." Your words stop as you take a closer look at the man. He wasn't wearing a mask; he apparently abandoned it when he entered the garden, and you have to say, he's... handsome. Very.

“Of course you didn't mean to. You couldn't see me when you were running so fast, which makes me wonder: From what are you running away, my lady?"

"I... To be honest, I'm running away from my maids. And that ball. It's just… too much excitement for one evening." You lie, quickly making up an excuse.

Obviously, you won't tell him that you're being chased by the horny Harkonnen heir, with whom you were ALONE in the garden. That would be a scandal. Just talking to this man now could be considered that way too... let alone what you allowed Feyd-Rautha to do to you.

"I think so too. Viscount Y/L/N throws good parties, but… they're a little too loud for my liking. Too vibrant." He comments, offering his arm to you. You can't help but smile as you place your hand in the crook of his arm.

Luckily, he leads the two of you in the opposite direction you were running from. You see that his brown and gold mask is tied to his arm, and on his finger he has... the ring of the Luwael family, a close family of Emperor Corrino. You just talked to the emperor's cousin, the pretender to his throne since he has no son.

You can't believe how lucky you are.

"Tell me about it, I've been enduring it since I was 15." You say it jokingly, giggling when you see his eyes widen as he realises he's gossiping about your father, and you think he looks adorable and cute in his state of little panic.

"Lady Y/N Y/L/N?" He asks, shocked. You nod and reach for the ribbon of your mask, removing it. You see his pupils dilate slightly as he takes in your appearance, his cheeks turning pink—whether from embarrassment or lust, you don't know, but you still like his reaction to you. "My apologies, I didn't mean to offend…."

"You did not." You interrupt him quickly with a charming smile. "It's... refreshing to be able to talk to someone who has similar opinions and feelings. At least when it comes to those terrible balls."

"Sometimes I feel like they force us to participate just to have something to gossip about later."

"Don't you like gossip?" You ask curiously, raising an eyebrow as you continue your walk through the gardens. You completely forget about Harkonnen and your... mistake, as you are trying to gain the interest of the man next to you.

This could be your big chance.

True, you heard that he and Irulan were to marry so that power would remain in Corrino's hands, but... if you make him want you, no one will stop him from taking you as his wife.

"I don't like court intrigues. The way ladies throw themselves at lords just to gain a higher title."

"Maybe for you men, marriage is more than just a financial transaction, but unfortunately for most of us, it's all about stability. The security of our lives is the most important thing here, and love—love is a complex and difficult thing; most often, unfortunately, it is only in books. Won't you agree?"

"Possible. But I would rather my wife love me than the power I give her." You smile in understanding. So you have a romantic in front of you... You have to adjust your role well, so you keep your true thoughts to yourself. You innocently hang your head, feigning uncertainty.

"This is completely understandable. Don't all of us dream about it? Have someone of your own, trusted, to whom you can confide all your dreams and fears without being afraid of being laughed at or ignored?" You ask, turning your head to look at him as you ask him your final question.

By the way he watches you with a burning light in his eyes, you know you've come to the right place and have successfully sold your image of a weak, defenceless woman dreaming of a real courtly romance. Pathetic. However, you will do anything to get a husband, you'll even pretend to be a helpless lamb.

"Yes... I assume that's what all of us want. Maybe expect the Harkonnens." You laugh at his joke, feeling very awkward at the same time as the memory of a certain Harkonnen's lips comes back to you.

You curse yourself for how damn good he made you feel. They may not have known love, but if they were all like Na-Baron, they knew damn well how to please their women—a thing you couldn't say about all the lords of the great houses.

You and Lord Luwael walk around the garden for a while before you both decide to head back to the ballroom. You put on your masks, and the man escorts you back, all the while being a perfect gentleman, including dancing, which he later asked you for.

You have fun maintaining your image as a hopeless romantic who wants to find true love and break away from the courtly conventions that overwhelm you—a perfect match for the emperor's heir. He doesn't tell you his identity until the end of the evening, but you don't mind. You know you've charmed him. And that he will seek your company at the next events of this season.

What you don't know is that certain icy-blue irises are watching you two furiously as you are led back into the ballroom by Lord Luwael. You also don't know that the Harkonnens are persistent and ruthless people who can wait years for their plans to be implemented, and that their devilish Na-Baron is truly the worst of them all...

Or that Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen decided a long time ago that you would become his wife. It didn't matter what he had to do or how to achieve his goal.

In the future, you will often regret this night and dancing with the Harkonnen devil. Very often.

~9 years earlier~

“They say he killed his mother. That his uncle and brother are training him to become a killer beast. That he is now devoid of any emotion except anger and bloodlust, and Paul told me that he apparently even has concubines.” Irulan gossips with you as the two of you watch in the distance as Feyd-Rautha trains in the courtyard.

The emperor invited several greater families to discuss something. You weren't too interested about it. Your mother simply packed your things and said you were leaving for a week. But you were happy. You had the opportunity to play with other nobles' children and it was definitely a nice break from listening to your parents' constant arguments.

"Nonsense. He's our age. Let's ask him if he wants to play with us." You decide and stand up to walk over to the hairless boy. Irulan grabs your hand tightly and pulls you back to your hiding place behind the pillar.

"He is a Harkonnen, Y/N. They don't play." She says and leans out to look at him. He swings his sword several times, making several quick movements and turns.

"But he isn't like them. He grew up on Lankiveil. Besides, I still remember him when he had blonde hair. And Harkonnens have no hair, so..."

"Baron made him his heir. Of course he had to... make himself look like them." She interrupts you, wrinkling her nose in disgust. You shiver slightly at the mere mention of the baron and nod thoughtfully.

"Pity. His blonde curls were pretty." You comment and lean out to look at him. You hold your breath as you make eye contact with him. He looks at you coldly, not moving an inch. You wave at him, giving him a hesitant smile. He stares at you for a while longer before he turns on his heel, his back to you, as he continues his training as if nothing had happened. "Still, we should have asked him. He looks quite lonely."

"NO. I won't be nice to him. If my mother gives a son to my father and I have to marry this… Harkonnen, I will throw myself from the tower."

"Why from the tower?" You ask, confused, frowning at the girl.

"I don't know. This is what the main characters in books do when something terrible happens to them. They say they will throw themselves off the tower."

"I prefer it when they fight the dragon." You say this, glancing at the boy again. You don't know why, but something just wouldn't let you walk away and leave him, although you really want to play with Paul, Irulan, and the other kids. You find yourself much more wanting to play with this strange boy.

You frown when you see him accidentally cut his hand. He doesn't cry like Paul did when you slammed his hand in the door. Instead, he puts his mouth on the wound and sucks out the blood. He tears off a piece of his clothes, wraps it around his hand, and continues training.

And somehow, it makes you make a decision.

"Y/N! What are you doing?!" Irulan hisses at you as you pull your hand from her grasp and take a step towards the courtyard.

"Fighting the dragon. Wish me luck." You answer, and without looking back, you head towards the training boy. His pale, bald head almost gleams in the sun, and you can't help but wonder if his lack of hair makes him less tolerant of the sun's heat.

When you are close to him, you stand still, not wanting to accidentally impale yourself on his sword. He notices you out of the corner of his eye, stops swinging his sword, and turns towards you, looking at you closely.

"Hi." You say as you wave at him.

"Lady Y/N." His voice is slightly hoarse, as if he had sandpapered it. You frown, surprised by such a formal greeting. Usually, only adults greet you like that.

"Um... my lord?" You answer hesitantly and shake your head, trying to ignore how strange he's acting. "Do you want to join us? We are playing hide and seek." You say, pointing your thumb at the pillar you and Irulan were hiding behind a few seconds ago.

"It's fun for kids." He replies dismissively and starts swinging his sword again.

"Are you not one?" You ask in surprise, still looking at him. He growls in annoyance and turns towards you, giving you a furious glare as you interrupt him.

"No. I am a man. And men are supposed to fight in battles and train to become stronger."

"Why?" You ask and frown at him, following him as he walks over to the fountain where he left his water and towel. He wipes the beads of sweat from his head, giving you a confused gaze.

"To keep their women and country safe." He replies like it's an obvious thing everyone should know.

"Well... do you have any in danger right now?" This time it's him who furrows his hairless eyebrows at your weird question. He thinks for a moment, observing you, and then shakes his head.

"No."

"Great! Then you can play with us." You say it excitedly and grab his hand. He hisses under your touch, and it's only then that you realise you've grabbed his injured hand. You want to apologise, but his mad glare quickly silences you.

"I already told you that I am not going to play any stupid game, woman!"

"Hey! I am not a woman, I am a girl! And you are a boy, so stop pretending to be an adult and play with us." You respond to his furious growl with your own and shoot him your evil glare. But instead of caring about your outburst and maybe even complying with your demands, he just laughs, making you even angrier.

"I will do whatever I want. You won't order me, little bunny. It doesn't matter how cute you look when you're angry." He mocks you and turns his back on you. You stamp your foot, furious at his behaviour and the fact that he is dismissing you.

"I doubt that sitting all alone is what you prefer." You say, unconsciously hitting his sweet spot. You see him tense as he reaches for his sword. However, his attitude quickly turns indifferent again as he turns his head to glance at you briefly.

"You should go."

"Why?"

"Before anyone notices me with you. Why are you asking so many questions?" He asks irritably, and he starts his training again.

Even though he tries to ignore you, you can see him glancing at you every few moments as you continue to stand there, watching as he swings his sword and cuts through the air.

"Is that yours?" You ask him curiously, sitting on the edge of the fountain.

"Yes. My uncle gave it to me for my 10th birthday." He replies proudly and stops for a moment to talk to you. You smile, staring longingly at the metal blade.

"My gave me dolls. Again. It's so boring." You grumble, keeping your eyes on his weapon. "How do you play with it?"

"I don't play. I train." He replies in annoyance and rolls his eyes at you. But you can see in his eyes that he's not mad at you at all. On the contrary, he wants to continue talking to you. That's why you act more boldly.

"Whatever. How do you train with it? Can you show me?"

"These are not things for a woman." His rejection doesn't dampen your excitement at all. On the contrary, you want to train with him even more, to do something that your mother forbade you to do a long time ago.

"Well, that's a good thing that I am a girl, then. Can you show me? Please? My dad wanted to train me, but my mom didn't agree. She is stupid." You complain, causing him to chuckle. You smile widely, thinking that he looks better when he's cheerful and not with that dark and grim scowl.

"She is. You should know how to protect yourself. Your father won't be fighting for your safety forever. And with that attitude, I doubt you will ever find a husband to protect you."

"Good. I don't want one. Can you show me then?" You ask, ignoring the fact that he's trying to insult you. You look up at him with your beautiful, pleading eyes and stick out your lower lip.

He watches you for a moment, frowning as he feels his heart beat faster when you give him that cute look he simply can't resist. He sighs, barely taking his eyes off of you, and nods.

"Fine. But only if you stay away from me after that."

"Okay." You reply excitedly and nod enthusiastically. He smiles slightly and stands behind you, helping you maintain a good stance with your sword.

"Hold it like that." He says, adjusting your grip on the handle.

"It's so heavy! How can you hold it and move?" You almost collapse under the weight of the sword, but you try to hold it the way he shows you. He laughs huskily, making you smile.

"You can get used to it with time. Now. I will show you some basic movements."

He trains with you and shows you some tricks and moves. And although he was rough and rude towards you at first, over time you both enjoyed each other's company.

You manage to make him laugh a few times, and each time you count it as a small victory considering how grumpy he was. He's obviously extremely fascinated with fighting and seems more than willing to teach you a few things. You think this "training" is fun—at least until you accidentally injure yourself.

"Ouch!" You scream and almost drop his sword. Luckily, he caught it quickly, before you could cut your foot. He furrows his hairless eyebrows and takes your injured hand in his.

"You're as clumsy as you look, little bunny." He mumbles and brings your hand to his mouth.

He licks up your blood like he did with his and tears off a piece of your dress. He wraps the cloth around the wound and looks closely at your hand. You frown, disgusted that he's licking your blood, but you don't move. Well... not until you realise this insult.

"Hey! You hurt yourself a while ago, too. Besides, it's my first time." You are angry at him, pulling your hand away and crossing your arms.

"Because I had an unexpected audience that was talking passionately about me behind my back."

"Oh… I'm sorry. It was mean." You respond contritely, not realising how he must have felt when everyone around him assumed the worst about him and didn't want to be around him.

"I got used to it." He replies in an emotionless tone and looks away from you, almost looking like a beaten dog, even though he tries hard not to show it. And you feel terribly sorry for him.

"You shouldn't. You are cool. When you take the stick out of your ass." You joke, and he chuckles. You smile at him, but his good mood is suddenly interrupted by something. His face turns serious, his muscles tense, and you only hear the growl of some animal before Feyd pushes you behind him.

A large hunting dog runs up to you. He lunges at Feyd, knocking him down. The dog bites him, and Feyd screams in rage. He tries to plunge his sword into the dog's side, but it clamps its jaws on the Feyd's arm, immobilising him.

You gasp in dismay. You reach for a rock and throw it at the dog, trying to distract it. You succeed, but before you can think about what to do next, the dog lunges at you.

You land on your back and use your elbows to get up, but the dog is quickly above you. He growls, foam dripping from his muzzle onto you, and you can only stare in horror into his eyes. You gasp when, just as he is about to sink his teeth into you, Feyd's sword suddenly pierces the dog.

You lie on the ground, unable to move, as you feel the animal's blood dripping onto your dress. Feyd pushes the dog off of you and gives you a worried look.

"Are you hurt?" He asks and offers you his hand. He helps you get back on your feet, looking for any wounds. You shake and shiver as you look at the dead animal. Feyd notices this and places his hand on your cheeks, making you look into his eyes as he turns your back to the animal's body.

He opens his mouth to repeat the question, but freezes when you throw yourself into his arms and hug him tightly, burying your face in the crook of his neck as you sob softly. Feyd holds you tentatively and strokes your hair, clumsily trying to calm you down.

"Thank you." You mumble into his neck. He doesn't say anything. He just holds you, letting you cry into him and calm him down. When you finally do, you move away from him. You wipe tears away with the sleeve of your dress, which makes Feyd's heart clench uncomfortably.

He doesn't understand what you're doing to him. He should have felt disgusted by you and been as far away from you as possible. He should have rejected you the moment you threw yourself at him, but... somehow he couldn't deny you this moment of comfort. The mere thought of you seeking comfort from him made his heart flutter a little. And you smelled nice, too. Like ocean. Like Lankiveil. Like home.

You represented everything his uncle wanted him to forget. You were... soft. Too soft. And nice. He should have wanted to hurt you, not comfort you, but all he wanted to do was hold you and protect you from the cruel world.

"Y/N!" Your father's scream reaches you.

The man pulls you further away from Feyd and looks at him warily before his worried gaze shifts to you and your eyes, bloody from crying. A moment later, the Baron and the Emperor join you. The men look at you and the dead dog, frowning.

"My best hunting dog..."

"Feyd-Rautha, what is this about? What have you done?" Her uncle's threatening growl makes Feyd tense. A shiver runs through him, and he opens his mouth to explain himself, but you beat him to it, leaving your father's arms and standing bravely in front of the baron and emperor.

"He saved me."

"What?"

"The dog broke off the leash. It… it would have bitten and torn me if Na-Baron hadn't killed it." The men look at each other, assessing the situation. Feyd watches you carefully, ignoring the surprised, frightened looks from the emperor and your father as you tell them that he killed a nearly three-foot dog.

"I... thank you, Na-Baron. For protecting my daughter." Your father nods to him, but he still has an iron grip on your arm. As if he were afraid that Feyd would turn out to be a worse, more dangerous beast to you than the dog that wanted to bite you to death.

"You're welcome, Viscount Y/L/N." He replies, shifting his gaze from you to your father for a moment.

Your dad is not waiting for the Emperor and the Baron to let you two go. He simply grabs your hand and leads you back to the palace with him. As if he wanted you to be as far away from the Harkonnens as possible.

"You shouldn't let just any dog ​​bite you. You let me down, boy."

You feel sad when you hear his uncle's words. You turn your head, making eye contact with the hairless boy. You give him a small, reassuring smile and wave at him. You see him purse his lips and shift his gaze back to his uncle, who is scolding him. However, he looks much less tense than before.

Unknowingly to you, you gained a secret admirer that day. An admirer who was going to make him the only man who would have the privilege of protecting you and holding you in his arms. He promised himself that this would happen, even if he had to bring hell into the world.

~•♤♤♤•~ PART II ~•♤♤♤•~

Dearest, gentle readers… did you miss me?

The opening of a new season has never been a more exciting and long-awaited event. The great families were impatiently waiting for more scandals delivered by this year's suitors. And this author is bursting with anticipation for the future events and gossips of this season.

This year, we have several unexpected debuts that this author will be watching very closely. However, I am convinced that the undivided attention of the masses will probably be stolen by the Na-Baron of Giedi Prime, Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen, who this year decided to take part in the great search for a wife.

Lord, take care of the future Baron's chosen one so that she can live up to the expectations and life among the Harkonnens.

However, this author wishes the Na-Baron all the best on his birthday and believes that we all look forward to the opening of the season on Giedi Prime, especially to his signature fight in the arena, which will be the main part of Na-Baron's birthday celebration.

But we also cannot forget about the stars of the previous season, whose story is not even close to the end yet.

Lady Y/N Y/L/N did not decide to plunge into great mourning after the tragic death of her fiancé, Paul Atreides. Lord Luwael was charmed by the young honourable at the end of the previous season, and Lady Y/N turned out to be not indifferent to his courtship. Surprising? A little bit. Unreasaonbale? Of course not. After all, why stand faithfully by a corpse of a duke when you can stick by the side of a potential Emperor?

But this author is deeply disappointed that we didn't get to hear any wedding bells at the end of the previous season. Maybe these two will surprise us all this year, and we will see a real royal wedding that we haven't been able to witness for ages.

We are all looking forward to the ball in honour of Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen's birthday, which will be opening this year's season. And this author can't wait to bring all the gossip and scandal to our curious readers. Who knows who will win this great race and have a good match this season?

Happy hunting to all the future brides!

[seresinhangmanjake]

The Harkonnen's Loves

Dad!Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x Mom!Atreides!reader

Summary in bullet points:

Your and Feyd’s four-year-old son is sweet like you but has a little love for violence like his father

Feyd gives your son his first blade

Feyd is soft for his family (I just think being in love and having a family would alter this psycho man’s brain chemistry a bit)

Notes: same Feyd x reader from The Harkonnen’s Sweet Thing and The Harkonnen’s Claim. 

Warnings: a half-psycho half-sweet little boy, mention of blood and injury, mention of pregnancy.

Words: 1500

Feyd-Rautha Masterlist

Your son contains a sweetness. ‘Caladan Sweetness’ you call it, because your home planet was where your sweetness was born into you. Your father, the beauty of your home, the oceans and the fields bloomed you into the soft, sweet thing that your husband loves. And though your son has never seen the world you come from, that sweetness runs through his veins. His smile, his laugh, his power to draw those around him out of their Harkonnen-built shells—that all comes from you. 

But at the same time, he is no less like his father. He adapts rather quickly to his surroundings. He has a natural curiosity for weaponry and blood and how one brings about the other. He does not hate the feel of a heart beating its final beat in his little hand—a feeling his father expressed would be better experienced young, and was done so after the slaughtering of a prisoner in front of the boy's eyes. Feyd had cracked open the prisoner's chest, taken his son by the hand, and guided his fingers into the open wound with the instruction to keep them wrapped around the organ until it no longer moved. You remember his eyes that day—round as saucers and sprinkled with excitement as he looked up at his father who ruffled his hair with a grin on his face. 

He truly is a combination of you both; such beautiful balance has already taken shape in a tiny body. He will be a warrior built and molded by his desire to understand everything his father has to teach him. And yet, he will be gentle where necessary; you hope, one day, with a wife and children of his own. But it’ll be long before that day comes. 

Then again, in some ways, he is growing so fast. For you, it could have been yesterday that you were pushing him out of your womb as your husband held your hand and kissed your forehead. At four years old, you still see him as your baby, but you acknowledge that Harkonnen blood ripens faster than the average child, and he has already begun to show signs of the man your brother prophesized him to be: one of the strongest alive; stronger even than his father. 

That is why you’ve allowed Feyd to pace your son’s training—it’s his area of expertise. It is their bond, and you don’t interfere in those moments, opting to stay just out of sight. 

“You're old enough now to have your own blade,” you hear your husband tell your son from your hidden spot around the corner. 

You can’t hold back your smile at your son's uncontained curiosity as Feyd pulls the knife out from behind his back and presents it to the boy. It balances perfectly on Feyd’s palm as tiny hands reach up. Your son pauses, but when Feyd gives an encouraging nod, he plucks it from his father’s hand. 

It couldn’t be a better fit. Not too long or heavy for his hand, but not too short or light. It’s a good starting blade to prepare him for the weapons that will grow in size as he does. 

“You will be training with me every day from now on,” Feyd tells him.

The boy looks up from the knife to meet his father’s eyes. “So I can get strong like you, Daddy?”

“Stronger than me.”

Your son giggles, a wide grin breaking open his face. “No one's stronger than you!”

Feyd's features soften as he pats his boy's cheek. “You will be.”

“Will I be strong enough to kill Uncle Paul for stealing me and Mommy from you?”

You almost snort as you roll your eyes. Of course, Feyd told him the story. It was only a matter of time before he sat him down and explained the tale of your half-brother killing—or almost killing—Feyd in front of you, then holding you hostage upon finding out Feyd was still alive and demanding you be returned to him. In exchange for you and the baby he discovered you were pregnant with, Feyd swore loyalty to your brother. But your husband will not allow his bloodline to continue for generations under the thumb of Paul Atreides. And that starts with your son. 

Feyd chuckles. “You will be strong enough to destroy your uncle and everything he loves.”

Finally making your presence known, you edge around the corner and lean against the wall. When Feyd sees you, so too does your son, and knowing the boy’s next move, Feyd takes the small blade from the even smaller hand.

“Mommy, I'm going to kill Uncle Paul!” he says joyfully as he rushes over and slams into your legs. “And everything he loves!”

“I heard!” you reply, grinning as you crouch down to his level and take hold of his hands. “But you know what? Little na-Barons who wish to take revenge on their uncles must first get a good night's sleep.”  

“Ok!”

“I'll come check on you in a minute,” you promise him before kissing his cheek and sending him on his way. Your eyes follow him running down the hall until he’s safely behind the door of his bedroom. 

Turning back to your husband and walking to his side, you say, “You told him.”

The tip of the blade pushes into his pointer finger as he lazily twirls the small weapon. “At his age, he should know who his enemies are.”

You slip between his muscled body and the table in the center of the common room where he sets down your son’s knife. With a closed-mouth smile, you hum. “And how did you start that conversation? ‘Uncle Paul made Mommy sad and Daddy mad’?”

“Something like that,” he confirms, leaning into you. His hands brace on the table, one arm at either side of your hips as he seals his lips to yours. 

Feyd’s mouth moves at a slow, hypnotic rhythm but with an intense pressure that’s glazed in possessiveness. You can taste it. That ownership. That authority. He may not always fuck you like you belong to him—sometimes it’s your turn to remind him that he’s yours—but his kisses have never been anything short of claiming. Gentle or rough, slow or frenzied, short or long enough to make you forget what world you’re in, a kiss from your husband ends with the reassurance that he wants you, he loves you, and he won’t ever let you go. 

His hands move to your neck, thumbs pressing into the curve of your jaw to hold your head still and you moan from his cool fingers soothing flushed skin. Your lips part and his tongue licks into your mouth. It plays with yours and then retreats. Teeth sink into your bottom lip, lightly tugging before he pulls back to rest his forehead against yours. 

“How's our other one?” he asks as a knuckle draws a line from your jaw to your neck to your cleavage. His eyes follow as it continues past the neckline of your dress and down your sternum, stopping at your stomach where his fingers splay wide. His eyes flick up to yours.

“Strong…like you,” you say, placing your hand over his. “...and like him.”

Your husband nods, exhaling a light sigh of relief. “Did they tell you?”

You smile. “They think it's a girl,” you answer. 

A few thumps of your heart pass as you await his reaction, but then Feyd smiles with you.

---

@avidreader73 @alwaysadreamingoptimist @lost-in-fiction-like-ur-mom @workof-a-rr-t @midnight-serendipity @minedofmoria @aoi-targaryen

[sebastianswallows]

The Little Death — 11. In your hands

— PAIRING: Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x Bene Gesserit!Reader

— SYNOPSIS: A Bene Gesserit gets left behind in the Arrakeen palace. When Feyd becomes the Planetary Governor, he finds her there in hiding. The Harkonnens don't traditionally keep them as truthsayers or concubines like other Houses do, but Feyd might have a use for her. After all, he's never had a Bene Gesserit of his own before.

— WARNINGS: smut, oral sex (m receiving), torture via Gom Jabbar, sub!Feyd, dom!Reader, BGSM

— WORDCOUNT: 2k

— TAGLIST: @elf-punk @lowlyloved @pomtherine @slytherins-heir @babyofneptune @localravenclaw @missbingu @wo-ming-bai @torossosebs

There are weapons you cannot hold in your hands. You can only hold them in your mind. — Bene Gesserit Teaching

She held his gaze and smiled. His hand had only been inside the box for seconds but she could already see it on his face. There was apprehension and excitement there and most disturbingly of all a hint of lust, but overwhelming everything was fear.

“Who did this to you before?”

“That’s my secret,” said Feyd in a quiet rasp. “Who did it to you?”

“The Reverend Mother.”

“Ah… Was she nice about it?” he asked with a smirk, but then his pale brows creased as the phantom pain began to tingle up his arm.

“No,” she replied, her thin smile widening.

She traced the blade up and down his taut stomach, more seeking to cool him than anything else. She’d never seen a man look down at her with so much fear… It was quite thrilling.

“What do you feel?”

“Itching,” he groaned. “Turning into… burning… into… Ah!”

The sound was gentle, something that escaped him before he realised. She moved the blade down between his legs as soon as he gasped, its presence no longer benign but threatening now. Feyd bit his lip and his pale head fell back, exposing the tense column of his throat. He breathed out through his teeth and through the thin metal sheet of the box she could feel his fingers moving, twisting, trying to form a fist.

“Shhh… Take the pain, my na-Baron,” she soothed, resting her cheek against his knee. “You can take it, can’t you?”

He should begin to feel his skin crisping now as if after too many hours in the Arrakis son. What followed was far worse, and to her surprise and admiration, he seemed to know it well. He controlled himself admirably all things considered. The blade turned to a caressing motion once again, brushing up and down the hardening length of his cock from the head that leaked against his trousers all the way down to the root. She pressed the tip against the swell of his sac with the gentle promise of penetration. Feyd’s head came up and he looked down at her again. His eyes were vulnerable. He braced himself against the bed with his free arm while the other struggled to stay inside the box.

“It’s not that hard for you, is it? I refer of course to you keeping your hand inside,” she smirked. “You like it.”

Feyd smiled his black smile but he seemed winded, consumed by something more than pain. Every now and then he’d frown with a sudden stab of something but his eyes stayed focused on her own, piercing through the veil of fire that by now shrouded him. She could almost feel what he felt. She could certainly remember it but it was quite a different thing to feel it through him, through the way he looked at her. The pain was theirs together. She kissed his clothed knee as she held his gaze, keeping calm for him, but underneath her heart was all aflutter, undecided whether she sooner enjoyed causing his pleasure or his ache. Feyd closed his eyes when it got too much and his shoulder jolted with the hint of pulling back. She bit her lip and twisted the knife against his loins, stopping him still.

“Not yet,” she whispered. “More.”

“P-please,” he gasped, his eyes watery when he next opened them.

She enjoyed hearing him begging so much that she felt herself begin to blush. Was this how it had been for him when he had made her suffer? Was it always so delicious to cause pain? But she could see his cock harden underneath his trousers, could almost see it throbbing with a quickened pulse, and underneath the tip of her blade his balls were swollen full of seed.

“You like the pain,” she said as she licked her lips. “And you like begging. Don’t you? Hmm? Do you like begging for me?”

He whimpered, head turning away from her as his hand fisted in the bedsheets. Even if she were blind she would’ve been able to tell that this meant more to him than anything else they had done together so far. His lungs burst into a quick sharp breath at once and his head tilted back, eyes closed, lips gasping open as he breathed his pain away. His stomach flexed and underneath her cheek, she felt his thighs were tensing. A flush of dark purpling blood bloomed underneath his skin, rising from the top of his broad chest up his throat and to his cheeks. His lips drew back against his stark black teeth and his nipples perked in keen excitement.

“What is it, my lord na-Baron?” she whispered, kissing up his clothed thighs all the way up to his loins. “Does it hurt so badly?”

“Yes,” he gasped, his voice breaking with unshed tears, but still he didn’t pull his hand away. “Hurts so m-much…”

She purred and kissed the swell of his cock, letting her lips rest warmly over the shape of it beneath his thin black trousers. Feyd whimpered and tried to close his legs but his figure was already unsteady on the bed. His fingers were flexing in the box again and he rolled his shoulder in its socket, and as she kissed up the throbbing edge of his cock she could almost hear him saying to himself that it wasn’t real, none of it was real, it was an illusion.

“But the pain is real,” she softly said. “It’s the only thing that’s real for you right now, isn’t it?”

“Mmm… Yes…” he breathed.

She laid her tongue flat against the length of his cock and let her warmth seep down toward him. When she looked up at him again, up the sweaty, pale, corded path of his body, she could see the agony there melding with relief. And although he was hard and leaking and he still felt her blade at the corner of his thigh all thoughts were chased out of his head. The air was filled with the sound of his sharp gasps and the little moans that slipped between them. Without a second thought, she placed the blade down on the bed and started undoing his trousers.

“W-what —”

Before Feyd could get the question out she had his cock in her hand and her lips were on the tip. He was so beautiful, like a broken doll. Like a precious thing from childhood — lost and now recovered. His voice was broken into fragile pieces, his body was falling apart, and in spite of all the pain she’d put him through he’d still chosen to obey. He was hers. She’d never had anyone before, not like this…

She dragged her lips lower down his shaft, moaning at the taste of him. He was hard between her lips and heavy on her tongue but sweet in that slick cloying way she’d gotten used to. His hips nearly arched off the bed and his free hand clung to the mattress. The deeper he sunk into her mouth the louder his cries became, and it was just as much from pain as it was from pleasure. She suckled on his length and closed her eyes, pulling him as far in as she could take. Feyd breathed heavily. He squirmed above her and after a few seconds he began to scream, his legs tensing around her shoulders. The nerve induction must’ve gotten to the point where he felt his flesh was melting, but he still refused to pull away. His cock was dripping down her throat and she wrapped an arm around his waist to hold him there, but from the weak and broken warbles he gave out, she was sure he’d started crying.

“Stop,” he whispered between panting breaths. “P-please, I w-want to stop…”

She moaned around his cock and suckled on it, tasting the saltiness of sweat and skin and the tangy sweetness of his seed. She pulled off of him for a moment to look up toward his blushing face and whisper.

“Cum for me first.”

Feyd groaned when she wrapped her lips around his cock again but he kept his hand inside. He was a good boy. Better than she had expected — and entirely intoxicated by the pain. Breathing deeply, sniffling through his agony, he sat up as firmly as he could on the bed and moved a trembling hand to the top of her head. She smiled at first, but then the fingers tightened in her hair and his grip hardened, and he pushed her down as far as she could go. She let the sharp edge of her teeth dance across his root but that only seemed to entice him further if he even felt it at all through the pain that shot across his other arm. Feyd gasped and moaned and thrust up into her with a hard pumping of his hips while he held her head against him and in only a few moments he was cumming down her throat. His cries filled the room sounding like a wail of death, but between her lips, he’d never felt more alive. With a painful seize of his whole body, he twitched and swelled and spilt his seed. She did her best to swallow but messy droplets fell from the corners of her mouth to lick across his sac. He hardly felt it. Feyd thrust up into her mouth until he no longer had the strength to, and then he fell back to the bed.

“Please, please, please,” he whispered. She could hardly hear it through the dizziness that rang between her ears. “I can’t… I can’t…”

She pulled herself up gingerly and looked at him. His hand was still inside the box. His cock was soft by now but still leaking on his thigh, and even on his back Feyd was breathing so heavily she was afraid he’d make himself sick. She pushed the knife off of the bed and well out of his reach as she smiled down at the sight of him, pale and sweating, his forehead creased, his plush lips bitten, his eyes dark with lust and pain.

“You can take it out now,” she whispered as she caressed his tense perspiring stomach.

He obeyed before she even finished speaking. His hand was trembling and he was almost too afraid to look at it, but he knew what he would find. His skin was alright, his bones too. It all had been an illusion, again. His knuckles were a little pink from where they’d brushed against the metal and the beds of his nails were white from strain, but it was still a perfectly healthy hand. She reached back to take it as she straddled his waist and brought the weak limb to her lips.

“Did you enjoy that?” she asked with a thin smile as she gently kissed his knuckles. She felt wicked for toying with him that way but felt closer to him than ever before too, and she was certain this strange mix of emotions was addling his mind just as much as hers.

His eyes watched her, keen yet dizzy in the shadow of his lust. “That was… too much,” he breathed.

“Even for you?”

“Yeah… Even for me.”

She grinned and moved her kisses to the tips of his fingers, taking them between her lips one by one. “When will you want to do it again?”

“Damn it, woman. Give me a week, at least.”

She giggled and placed his hand gently beside him then slid down his body and off of the bed. With slow and loving care she pulled his trousers off and made him comfortable, put the box and the knife away, and took her own clothes off too. And while Feyd was still catching his breath and examining his hand like it was the most precious, vulnerable thing in the world, she poured him a glass of water. It felt strange to comfort him, to tuck him in and pull his head to rest over her chest. It was a behaviour from herself she hardly expected. If anything Feyd seemed less surprised by it than her.

“We won’t have to do it again if you don’t want to,” she whispered as she trailed a soothing path across his back.

“I asked for it,” he muttered, burying his face against her neck. “If I ask again…”

“You want me to give you what you want?” she finished.

“Every time,” he smiled.

[fandomnerd9602]

Right, bit of a different one for ya.

Could you make a male primaris ultramarine reader x Irulan from dune plsss?

Y/N stands resolute as Irulan approaches him…

Irulan: what is your sacred duty?

Y/N: the protection of my ladyship

Irulan caresses Y/N’s armored chest…

Irulan: is that the only reason you stay?

Y/N: the only reason I am allowed to say, your majesty

Irulan: Irulan. It’s just you and I here. No titles please.

Y/N: of course…Irulan.

She smiles, it’s a small step…

[reallyunluckyrunaway]

✨mY ScRoTch✨

[fatherless-stuff]

[father-thesleeperhasawakened]

Happy pride month to this bitch

[feyd-meowtha]

Happy June to everyone who pronounces 'June' and 'Dune' the same way.

It's the month of Dune 🪱

[amica-aenigmata-naboo]

Blood Sport

Feyd Rautha x Y/N - drabble part 4 - 2.6K WC

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4 (you are here!)

Masterlist

Warnings: violence, blood, fighting, Baron and Reverend Mother being shady af, pretty fluffy, reader is just built different, knife throwing, full on fight, blood licking?, slow burn, two passionate people trying to protect each other, I completely made up the language of Succo so don’t come for me, not proof read but then again none of my fics are

----------------------------

You woke early, a slight crack in the curtains letting the blindingly bright black sun of Geidi Prime stream across your face. You groaned as you threw your arm over your face; the bed felt cold, lonely. You looked over to where Feyd slept last night, rolling towards his pillow. His scent still lingered - sweet blood mixed with musky sweat. You breathed deep before your maids entered the room. 

“What?” you hissed at them, holding your hand out to pause them in their place. Your blood magic felt stronger than it had in days now that you had fed, especially from such a strong host.

“The Lord Na-Baron Feyd Rautha has requested your presence in the training arena princess. He gave me a message for you.” your maid said not looking you in your eyes.

You made a ‘come here’ motion with your hand, your magic dragging her towards you. You set her down, she handed you the note with a trembling hand. “Out.” you said dismissing them. They scurried out like frightened rats. 

Fitalitum veritanic et alumi read the slip of parchment. You smiled to yourself, in your own mother tongue of Succonant he wrote “There is beauty in ferocity”. You placed the note in the top drawer of the bedside table before getting out of bed and readying yourself. You purposefully picked out one of your long dresses instead of training gear. He wanted to see beauty and ferocity, you would give it to him. As you adorned your dress you couldn’t help but admire how every piece of it could become a weapon. The sharp shoulder pads could be taken off and used as individual throwing knives. The belt became a barbed whip. The long sleeves hid two painfully thin blades, dainty but they hurt no less than a regular Cruor blade. Each layer on the dress had razor sharp edges, if you spun they were sure to carve your opponent. Finally a diadem which encased your shield should you need it. Cruor fought without them but you didn’t want to risk marking your face days before the wedding. You finished admiring yourself before grabbing your beloved Cruor sword and heading down the corridor to the training arena.

As you walked down the cavernous halls of the Harkonnen palace you were confronted with the Reverend Mother herself, as if her ghostly form sprouted from the floor itself.

“Princess Y/N” she stated in an unimpressed tone.

“Reverend Mother.” you said, equally displeased. 

“Are you prepared for your wedding?” she asked, reminding you that the end of the week was approaching rapidly.

“Of course.” you replied, bored.

“You may think yourself above the rest Cruor, but you must remember where you are. And who truly rules.” she said with spite in her voice.

“How could I forget Reverend Mother? Your shadows haunt these halls.” you said viciously, referring to her Bene Gesserit sisters.

“You are fortunate the Voice does not affect you. But there are other ways to make you cooperate.” she said, stepping closer to you in an attempt to be imposing.

You twisted your fingers, your magic forcing her back and making her stumble. “Unfortunately for you, you are not and will never be immune to blood magic. It is built into my very being, not some trick to be learned. You do not frighten me, and I will not cooperate with you unless I alone agree to it.” you snapped at her. 

“There are always ways to make one cooperate. Should something happen to your husband, the Queen will be looked at intensely as a suspect. With my advice.” she said with an unsettlingly soft smile.

“And what makes you think I care for him in the slightest?” you asked, despite knowing it wasn’t entirely true.

She hummed curiously, “Good day princess.” she said before walking away from you.

“Cunt.” you whispered before pushing on towards the training arena.

When you entered the arena Feyd was nowhere to be found. You honed in your accelerated hearing, listening for his heartbeat. Your scarlet eyes narrowed to your left but a blow hit you from the right. You rolled to the ground with a groan. Feyd looked down at you with nothing but malice. 

“What the fuck? That hurt you ass.” you coughed, hand holding your ribs which felt slightly cracked.

“What makes you think I care in the slightest?” he said with venom in his voice. He stomped towards you. 

You knew he overheard your conversation. This was no longer training, this was a fight. You kept hold on your side, continuing to pretend like you were in immense pain. As Feyd stood before you, you kicked out his ankles with one swipe of your leg. He fell to the ground, you held your nails to his neck. Feyd grabbed your wrist, yanking you towards him, he threw you over him. Using your momentum he rolled with you, pulling his knife out and stabbing it next to where your shoulder would have landed if you had not pulled yourself towards him as you rolled. You smacked your forehead into his, pulling one of your shoulder blades out and stabbing at his shoulder, the blue shimmer of the shield vibrating the small blade. You pushed off each other, both of you getting to your feet. 

You tossed the small shoulder blade away from you, “You want to fight? Fight.” you said, pressing the main jewel on the diadem. Your blue shield shimmer faded before you tossed it off entirely. Feyd followed suit. You smirked at him which only seemed to anger him. He lunged at you, blade thrusting towards your chest. You made an ‘X’ in front of you with your forearms, the thin blades in your sleeves caught the knife, you twisted until he dropped the blade. He brought his armored arms down, breaking the thin blades. You backed up, kicking his chest to push him away. Feyd tried to rush you but you spun away, the dress ends slicing through his armor and into his thigh slightly. You took your belt off, lassoing his ankle before pulling him. He landed on his back. You snatched the lasso back, wrapping it around your knuckles before you squared up. He attempted to swipe your leg, instead you caught his and punched him in the side, hearing one of his ribs crack. Feyd groaned as he bent over slightly, holding his side. 

“Now were even.” you said, tossing your belt to the side. 

Feyd pulled you down by your dress, rolling you beneath him before he snatched one of your remaining shoulder blades. Starting right above your belly button he dragged the knife, cutting your dress up to your neck. A thin cut trailing your skin from the very tip of the knife, making you suck in a sharp breath as you felt drops of your blood seep out. You reached up to grab him, he held both your wrists down after tossing the small blade away. Both of you breathed heavily, chests hitting each other with every inhale. His eyes looked into yours, alight with fire. His hips nestled between your legs. Your dress fell open, revealing the cut he left behind, hardly keeping your breasts covered.

“You learn quick.” you smiled beneath him. “You are not your weapons. You are the weapon.”

His eyes wandered to the cut he left up your torso, he saw the few drops of blood that dripped to your side. He slowly lowered himself down your chest, keeping his eyes locked with yours. You watched through a haze as his tongue flicked out before he dragged it up the cut between your breasts. You sucked in a breath, your eyes closing as your back began to arch into him. You felt his tongue leave you all too quick.

“Absolutely vile.” he said, savoring the way your iron tasted on his tongue.

You heard the door open and shut, a Harkonnen maid entered without looking at either of you, “The Baron has requested your presence in the Great Hall my Lord Na-Baron Feyd Rautha.” she said before scurrying out. 

Feyd stood, offering you a hand to help you up. You tugged your dress closed with one hand, accepting his help with the other. Chest to chest once again, time felt as if it had froze. Your breaths matched each other, breathing each other in and out. Feyd leaned in first, his forehead going to rest against yours. You moved to kiss him, not entirely sure why but every fiber of you ached for him and him alone. 

Before you could close the gap, the Barons voice boomed throughout the arena. “Nephew! We have much to discuss. You are dismissed princess.” He said waving you off. 

You tightly held your dress together, ripping yourself away from Feyd and exiting the room. You checked, making sure no guards or maids were around before remaining right outside the door, honing your hearing in on them. 

“Holding knives to your bride? I figured you’d be a brute in marriage like you are in battle. Try not to break her in too rough, they’re much less likely to oblige. Although… we could always have someone hold her down for you. Like I had to with you the first few times.” The Baron chuckled.

You could hear Feyd’s heartbeat, his soul was crushing at the memories and yet he was calm. The Baron confirmed what you had seen when you drank Feyd’s blood, he had abused Feyd - physically, mentally, emotionally, sexually. Your body warmed with anger, you had half a mind to go and rip the Baron’s throat out with your own teeth. He was an animal, he should die like an animal. 

“That won’t be necessary, I’m perfectly capable of taking her on my own.” Feyd replied.

Your heart sank and a low boil of fear started in your stomach. You felt stupid for starting to feel anything for him besides hate.

“She is strong willed, thinks she knows best. Tame her, break her. She need only produce and heir or two… then you can dispose of her.” The Baron said.

Feyd’s eyes widened slightly as his head whipped up to meet the Baron’s gaze. He composed himself once more, “Of course.”

You couldn’t listen to anymore. You hastily made your way back to your chambers, tearing off your gown once inside. As you moved to put on more comfortable clothing you caught sight of your reflection. You could see bruises forming along your side, and the blood that had dried on you from the cut that was still present up your chest. As soon as you had finished cleaning yourself up, dressing your wounds, and changing into much looser clothing you heard the door slide open.

Feyd looked at you, startled by what he saw. Black veins around your eyes were ever present as your pupils looked like that of a cat. Instead of your regular two fangs you had four. You looked like you were ready to devour him mind, body, and soul. “Y/N?” Is all he said.

“Are you here to break me? Tame me? Are you going to hold me down or will your guards be doing that?” You asked with so much loathing in your voice it made his head spin.

“You know I’d never hurt you-“ he started.

“Do I?” You cut him off. “You breathe because I allow it. Do not forget who comes from the more powerful house. Who carries generations of magic within them. Who feast off the very life source of others.” 

Feyd could see how much you distrusted him, and yet he saw your eyes getting misty.

“You are a beast, Feyd Rautha. A beast and a monster. To believe I ever thought otherwise…” you trailed off.

“I may be a monster but at least I am not some unfeeling blood magic wielding wench who cares for no one but herself. I overheard you with the Reverend Mother.” Feyd argued back, both of you now heated and angry.

Your jaw dropped. How could he be so thick? So fucking oblivious? “I said that to protect you!” You yelled at him, stepping closer. 

“What do you think I was doing?” He yelled back, throwing one of your empty glass jars to the side. 

The jar shattered as it hit your light disc he had gifted you. The disc faltered, the stars and Rubrum disappearing as the disc finally died, “No!” You yelled, rushing to it, forgetting the argument at hand entirely. You knelt next to it, picking it up and trying to make it work again.

Feyd watched you, his eyes softening. You were scared and alone on a planet you had never known, surrounded by people who viewed you as strange and lesser, whose only purpose was ultimate obedience, to be used any way that would benefit House Harkonnen without regard for you. 

You sighed, letting the star disc clatter to the floor. You remained on your knees, a small sniffle emanating from you. You hated looking weak, but you knew this was coming; everything was too much. You wanted nothing more than to go back to Succo. 

Feyd knelt in front of you, gently taking your arms till you rested against his chest. You let out a heart wrenching sob. One that had been held in for quite some time. “I would never hurt you, I am loyal to you above all else.” He murmured as he stroked your back, trying to calm you.

You leaned into him, finally letting out all that had been held in since you left Succo. “I don’t want to hurt you either. I have no one on this planet but you… I wish for us to be equals; us against any who oppose us.” You said between sniffles. 

Feyd pulled you back so he could see you. Your face had returned to normal, as did your fangs. Black tears cascaded down your cheeks, he gently wiped them off. As you looked at one another you could feel it. The same need to be understood, wanted. You both leaned in, lips finally meeting. Both of you let out sighs, the long awaited tension finally breaking. It was slow and sweet but gained momentum. You nipped his lip with one of your fangs, causing him to reel away from you in surprise. 

“Sorry…” you blushed.

He shook his head, “Don’t be… we should rest…” he said after a few moments.

“We have much to discuss.” You said.

“And we will. But for now, let us rest.” He said, his hand coming up to hold your cheek. 

You placed your hand over his, closing your eyes before nodding. He stood first, guiding you up as he stood. You climbed into the large satin covered bed. You watched as Feyd discarded his armor, along with his shirt. He held it for a moment, hesitating if he should or shouldn’t do what he was thinking. 

You reached out a hand for him, “Come to bed.” You said sleepily, already laying down amongst the pillows and blankets.

Feyd smiled softly as he set his shirt down and climbed in next to you. He did the same as the first night, sleeping far from you. You peeked at him through the haze of sleep that was rapidly consuming you. You tugged on his arm, making him scoot closer to you. You wrapped yourself around him; one leg around his hips while you laid yourself on his bare chest. You snuggled in for a moment before finally drifting off. Feyd caressed your hair as you slept, thinking of how he could protect you from his uncle because you were, by far, the most precious thing to him. 

------------------------------

Naboo's Note:

This took 3 days to write but I think it was well worth the wait. We're finally getting somewhere romantic! I know ya'll are horny but patience is a virtue and trust me it will be worth it. We've got wedding bells coming the next chapter! Thanks for all the support around this series, I'm having a lot of fun with it :) I love comments and find them super encouraging so be sure to drop me some XOXOXOXOXOOXOXOXO

taglist:

@wo-ming-bai

@reemoony

[bbygirl-paul]

paul: it must be hard not being able to laugh chani: i do have a sense of humor, you know paul: but i've never heard you laugh chani: and i've never heard you say something funny

[ooihcnoiwlerh]

Realized one of the reasons Feyd-Rautha kind of reminds me of a giant hairless cat is because Austin Butler has a prominent Cupid's Bow so there are times his mouth looks like it's making the :3 face.

That and the animalistic body language he has in the role.

[realchanidune]

just having fun in the dunes

[chalamet-hl]

Religion's in your lips. Even if it's a false god... 🌷

[fandomnerd9602]

Hi. Can you make one with Irulan and Y/N?

Y/N is an adventurer from an unknown galaxy and he's telling her about different planets, wildlife, civilisations and his experiences.

Irulan and Y/N look over a map…

Y/N: and there I saw a herd of laza tigers

Irulan: and what about that planet?

Y/N: bovids

Irulan: and that one?

Y/N: I met the rarest, most beautiful creature of all

Irulan: what?

Y/N: you

Irulan giggles as she touches foreheads with Y/N…

[junior-stargazer-goke91]

Dune: Part 2 (2024)

Director: Denis Villeneuve

Cinematographer: Greig Fraser

[elvencantation]

so proud of this one i gotta cross post it! i didn’t even realize the last line fit so well until right before i posted it on insta 😂

Have you ever had a dream that, that, um, that you had, uh, that you had to, you could, you do, you wit, you wa, you could do so, you do you could, you want, you wanted him to do you so much you could do anything?