#feyd rautha gifs

[muxshwriting]

voiceless - drabble(ish)

Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x reader

summary: being the wife of Feyd mean you aren't afforded the freedoms you once had including your opinion || warnings: borderline abusive relationship, prejudice, sexism || word count: 350 || masterlist

House Harkonnen was known across the galaxy for their brutality. They are heirs of cruelty because they were taught that cruelty will keep them in power. And it was because of that power that your father had decided that you would be wed into their great house.

The youngest nephew of the Baron and his heir, Feyd-Rautha would be your betrothed, your husband. He was barely older than you, a fresh adult with a penchant for blood and suffering and everything his house stood for. It was as if you were to be married to the devil himself.

After your union, there were certain things you'd immediately noticed. Women were objects, slaves or servants to the Harkonnens, they were not equal people. You could tell yourself that your value came from your experience, you intellgience and your knowledge. But in truth, to the Harkonnen's, your value came from your name and your father's money. Perhaps the pretty face helped but the power you were privy to mattered more.

Feyd ignored you most days, only acknowledging your presence when he returned to your chambers. When he did acknowledge you then, it was only to request that you help him change and be ready for bed. You joined him one day, shadowing him but always staying a few steps behind.

“Why do you follow me, wife?”

You pause in your step as your husband turns to face you, a calculating look in his eyes. “Am I forbidden from spending time with you?”

“Our time shared is within our bedchambers.” Feyd said shortly. There was no room for other discussion as he walked further down the corridor and left you standing in silence.

And as it was, the silence returned to your life. Empty chambers where there was nothing to be done all day. You were judged if you went out without Feyd and yet Feyd refused to be seen with you.

He did not care what you did with your day as long as you were not with him. But because you weren’t with him, you could do nothing with your day.

[yasminhananis]

paul atreides and feyd-rautha harkonnen

dune: part two, dir. denis villenueve // dune, frank hubert // the illustrated dune, illustrations by john schoenherr // kerri maniscalco // the double in gothic fiction, alex heath // kittos epoiesen // dune: part one, dir. denis villenueve // fire & blood, george r.r. martin

[rain-carradine]

We’re Harkonnens. So this is how we’ll survive, by being Harkonnens.

Dune: Part Two (2024) dir. Denis Villeneuve

[zane-kun33]

"May thy knife chip and shatter."

Dune: Part Two (2024)

[cosmictheo]

𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐆𝐈𝐑𝐋𝐒 | feyd-rautha

(gif credits to @pascow)

— summary: an arranged marriage with feyd-rautha in the name of reconciling your houses was something you were not expecting, neither was the soft and light way he seemed to behave towards you and only you. —pairing: feyd-rautha harkonnen x female!atreides!reader —word count: 3k —warnings: arranged marriage, feyd being gentle and calm because the reader is the love of his life (as it was written), probably ooc!feyd (sorry but i just love to see the most savage and feral men fall on their knees for their s/o)

writer’s note: english is not my mother tongue, so please forgive me if there is a grammatical error. hope you like it!

ᯓ★ part one ── part two ── part three (coming soon)

Your arranged marriage to Feyd-Rautha had been the reason for House Atreides and Harkonnen to strengthen their alliance, ensuring that neither would stab each other in the back, which was most expected from the Baron. Your Houses had been wavering on a faint thread that separated you from a war and this marriage arrangement had pacted a reconciliation. It had been your parents' idea and obeying your parents was the most important thing for you, right after protecting your family and indeed that was what you were doing, guarding your family.

Your twin brother did not like the idea, he was not very fond of Feyd-Rautha and his House, moreover, he found him rather... repulsive. For Feyd was a savage, a ruthless and bloodthirsty man.

However, he had to admit that, next to him, you would be basically untouchable, after all, it was like having a guard dog, the most possessive and protective dog, a dog that was ready to kill and ravage for you if necessary.

“He's scary.” Paul's voice echoed inside your head as together you walked along the vast hallways of the Harkonnen palace, at the end of it, Feyd-Rautha stood, engaged in a conversation with your parents, forever as stiff and somber as he had been since you had first met him.

“Just look at him, you'll have to wake up next to him for the rest of your life.” Your brother insisted, throwing you a knowing and concerned look. “We can fix this without you having to marry that man, sister. There must be something—”

“Enough.” you interrupted him, finally dragging your eyes from your betrothed to your anxious brother pacing beside you, you made an effort to offer him a reassuring, soft smile, grateful that he was always so caring and concerned about you and your well-being. “There's nothing else we can do. You know about my visions and what they foresee. Our House will not endure if I do not accept this offer.”

“We will do whatever it takes to survive for now.” You added, holding Paul's gaze, noting the sadness and pity behind his dark eyes, and like the good sister you were, you sighed softly, leaning closer to him to bring him some kind of reassurance. “Our turn will come to make our move and win, brother.”

“Whatever it takes.” He echoed, nodding his head, fingers brushing your clasped hand around his forearm, as you were accustomed to do when you walked side by side.

“The marriage will take place two weeks from now.” The Duke's voice gave out the news once you were all inside the assembly room, with the Baron at the head of the table, of course, looking uncharacteristically approving and pleased to hear the announcement.

The massive man showed his approval with a hint of a phantom, twisted smile, plump fingers taping the edge of the black table in front of him. “We will have the princess as a guest in our home for a week and then the na-Baron will visit her home for the last week, prior to her coming to live here.”

He planned the whole thing and there was absolutely no one in the room who had the idiotic courage to be against his command, so, it was settled.

Once you said goodbye to your family and gave a tight and emotional hug to your brother, you were left alone in the dark and gigantic planet of the Harkonnen family, feeling like an outsider, like a small prey surrounded by bloodthirsty predators. Although, the place possessed an indescribable and incomparable beauty, the sun was black, and the light that irradiated was whitish, giving it a beautiful contrast with all the black buildings rising majestically. But the place was rather... depressing, quiet and somewhat eerie, it was nothing like your home.

You soon felt out of place, and everyone who looked at you could see it too. It was as if you had some kind of golden aura, glowing among all the darkness and gloom of the place.

Feyd-Rautha watched you attentively, analyzing every expression and emotion you let be shown across your face, catching the look your eyes possessed, that special little gleam that flashed in your orbs as you admired Giedi Prime as if it were one of the most beautiful things you had ever seen in your life, his home.

“Do you like it here, my lady?” His husky, raspy voice managed to snap you out of your trance, and your heart skipped a beat once you trailed your gaze from the horizon beneath the balcony to him, meeting his deep, dark gaze. He always seemed to look at you with those eyes, captivated, as if you were some form of strange spectacle.

And indeed you were, you stood in perfect contrast to the planet, your eyes were bright, lively, your aura was vivacious and hopeful. And because of that, he liked to look at you, study your face, your body language, every little reaction you had in response to something. You were fascinating.

Whenever you entered any room, his deep blue eyes were pulled to you like a magnet, drawn to orbit around you like his planet circling the dark sun.

Feyd noticed out of the corner of his eye how your hands clasped lightly around the balcony fence in front of you, skin contrasting against the blackness of the material. 

You nodded your head very slowly, twisting your body just enough to be able to look him directly in the face, big eyes looking up at him, not with fear, but with expectation. “I do.”

Even your voice was the opposite of his, keeping that soft and delicate tone, as elegant as you.

He seemed satisfied with your positive response, and so, he dared to lean against the balcony fence right next to you, but careful not to cause you to feel too uncomfortable or intruded upon. His eyes never left you for a second and he was quite pleased that you were bold enough to hold his powerful and intimidating gaze.

“Good, it will soon become your home too.” Feyd answered you, in a tone that oscillated between amusement and fascination, you didn't quite know how to decipher the expression on his face either, naturally.

He was very complicated to read, even if you tried extra hard, the many tutoring and lessons with Lady Jessica didn't seem to do much use, with him. Perhaps because he made you feel unnerved, he made your soul tremble like no one could, stepping beyond your walls and standing where none of your senses seemed to work. Where the eye could not see.

“Are you mocking me?” Still, you had the courage to ask him that bold question, one eyebrow rising on your forehead and your head twisting slightly, defiant face and all.

Your bravery made him laugh slightly this time, a noise that was heard almost unnaturally, with a small crooked smile on his lips that looked all too unusual and strange on him. For not even his strongest and most powerful enemies had had the courage to stand in front of him and challenge him like you were doing right now. You were a fierce girl. And he liked that.

“I wouldn't be likely to mock you, my lady.” Feyd-Rautha replied calmly, his tone of voice the exact same, as if you were a spectacle. Your eyes lowered to his hand, which snaked slowly to the edge of the balcony fence, fingers stroking the smooth surface. “I'm just stating the obvious. You'll be living here with me soon. It will be our home and you will reign with me when it's my turn.”

You narrowed your eyes slightly at his response, not yet quite convinced that he would behave so calm and composed with you, when not more than two days ago you had seen him slicing men to pieces in the arena. “You are not bothered by me invading your space?”

You asked that question because you knew how... eccentric men usually behaved, you could see it in basically every man with any power you had ever met, in the so many meetings with the Duke back home. You could see how they treated their wives, how they looked at them and how they talked to them, as if they were dealing with a servant. You feared this marriage was like that too.

Even your parents' marriage was broken, since Duke Leto kept close to his heart another woman who was not Lady Jessica, he did not love her as he loved that unknown woman. You had grown up seeing an empty and cold marriage, merely to fulfill a duty.

You understood that your marriage would also have that basis, and therefore, you knew that duty was the death of love. But for some silly, innocent reason, you wanted to think there might be love here. As the naive, young girl that you were.

Feyd-Rautha shrugged, not taking much interest in the matter of the question, “You'll be my wife, my space is your space.”

A hint of a smile tugged at the corner of his lips when he saw that his answer pleased you. You could begin to understand that to him the whole arranged marriage thing wasn't as important as it was to you, or maybe it was, but it didn't seem to bother him or disagree.

“Does this marriage bother you?” It was his turn to ask, staring down at you, noticing how beautifully your skin reflected the pale natural light of the black sun. He could see how frustrated you were now, to be there, with him. “Does it bother you to be my wife?”

You sighed heavily, peeling your eyes from Feyd-Rautha and returning them to the beauty of the landscape below, pondering the questions. His dark eyes followed your every movement as your body turned forward again, hands gripping the balcony fence as if your life depended on it.

“Do you care much for my opinion of you?” You decided to answer him with another question and that seemed to annoy him for his frown deepened and his fingers halted on the fence, devoting himself to glaring at you with his azure eyes, mirroring the pallid light of the gloomy sun.

“Woman, I will marry you and live by your side for the rest of my life, of course your opinion is important.” He took a couple of steps closer to you as he spoke, hand closer and closer to yours, managing to make you even more nervous. “Don't speak nonsense, it doesn't suit you. You're a smart girl.”

Seeing the expression on your face, he leaned even closer and out of the corner of your eye you watched as his hand rose to your face, resting on your chin and turning it ever so gently for you to look at him, but your eyes lowered, fleeing from his.

It seemed astonishing to him that you didn't even flinch away when you sensed the approach of his hand to your face, as if it wasn't the same hand that had slaughtered so many and slit so many necks by the same motion.

“Don't take your eyes off me.” He demanded in a low, raspy tone of voice, you could feel his breath brush against your face. “Look at me.”

When he whispered your name in that delicate, nearly pleading tone, you finally summoned the courage to look at him, allowing him to cradle your chin between his fingers and allowing him to be so close to you that you felt suffocated by the warmth of his body against yours.

“You fear me?”

He asked in that tone of voice, whispering, silently asking you to have mercy on him, not to fear him as everyone usually feared him, not to see him as the monster everyone saw, but as your husband, your protector and your lover.

He saw how your eyes watered slightly as fear peered into your usual stoic, cold face, and Feyd-Rautha was used to beholding that face, was used to fear, because it was always the last look of his enemies.

“I'm afraid. Of leaving home, of living on an unknown planet, of marrying someone I don't know.” Then you shook your head softly, looking up at him through your long eyelashes. “But I am not afraid of you, Feyd-Rautha.”

“You're very bold... and emotional.” He whispered in a disapproving but gentle voice, fingers tracing barely a caress along your lower lip before he reached up and dried the couple of tears that had managed to escape from your pretty eyes. At the closeness, you could begin to see through the mask he always carried, hiding his emotions. “You can't let yourself look like this in front of your enemies, it will make you appear weak.”

“I can't let myself look like this in front of my future husband?” his dark eyes lowered to your lips as you modulated the question, pupils dilating slightly. You swallowed as you saw desire and lust darken his orbs even more when you referred to him as your husband. You sniffed, feeling suddenly embarrassed by your outburst of emotions. “I'm s—sorry. You shouldn't see me like this, my lord.”

“Don't apologize.” He again reprimanded you in that passive-aggressive tone of his, like a hiss of a snake, shaking his head a little. Even after he wiped away your little tears, his hands remained in the same place, cupping your face, each of his thumbs resting on your flushed cheekbones.His fingertips were surprisingly gentle against your skin, sending shivers all over your body beneath their path. “You can be like this only with me, you understand? You can trust me, I want you to trust me.” His fingers took a lock of your hair and pulled it away from your face, running it carefully behind your ear. “But I really don't like to see you cry, my wife-to-be.”

After barely a second of silence with his azure eyes again flicking down to your parted lips, he spoke again, muttering, his raspy voice indicating that perhaps it hurt his throat to talk like that. “Pretty girls like you should cry out of pleasure only.”

He studied your face once more, not missing the way you blushed at his open flirtation and suggestive words, how you bit your lower lip, pupils expanding in thick blackness. You weren't used to so much attention, let alone men saying those kinds of words to you, it was evident. You were so innocent that it provoked a rare feeling of tenderness in Feyd-Rautha.

Perhaps it would be the closest thing to an act of consolation you would get from him and it was likely the only time in his life he had ever done that.

Promptly, you managed to make him smile again. “You Atreides are so strange and delicate... but then again, you will soon be Harkonnen, the prettiest na-Baroness, my pretty little wife.”

From his voice, his careful choice of words and the way he was looking at you, you expected him to kiss you right there —perhaps that was what you wanted, amidst all the tumult of emotions that shook your little heart, beating in rumbling noises inside your chest, pumping fiery blood through your veins.

But after a few seconds, he pulled his hands away from your face and backed away from you, taking a few steps back and offering you a look that you managed to perceive as soft rather than harsh. You knew that he was controlling himself well in maintaining a good demeanor, perhaps because his uncle had ordered him to do so; to do his best to make a good impression and not bring shame to the family. And also because he wanted you to have a good image of him, he was a prideful man, he was used to boast of his virtues and his power, and he was above all, protective of his own person and his glory.

He made a short gesture with his head pointing to the open balcony door, his hands clasping together behind his back pragmatically, as if he were presenting himself in front of a superior. “Now come, pretty girl, I'll show you the palace myself. You're future home.”

You walked towards him, a little smile curving your lips, the first smile on your face during the entire conversation, and he admired it in all it's glory.

“You don't have to be all stiff when you're with me, Feyd.” You eyed his posture with light eyes as you passed him and made your way inside the guest room with graceful steps, him following close behind.

He wasn't very fond of being addressed by name directly, of having his name used so freely, but the way you pronounced his name made him so utterly proud to be called that, he suddenly was wishing you would just call him that, in that tone of voice, tongue savoring his name as if it were the most delightful thing to say.

You turned to look at him for a few seconds, your tone of voice becoming reassuring, something he wasn't quite used to, yet he heard and savored it as if it were the sweetest thing in the world.

“If you can see me cry, then I can see you relaxed. It is only fair, no?”

Feyd-Rautha received your words positively, causing him to deepen his breathing into a snorting chuckle, eyes sparkling with amusement now behind your back.

“I'll try for you.” His response made you smile once more.

[bin1es]

Austin Butler training for Dune Part Two. Credits: iTunes Extras.

[nelyo-s]

paul: mansplain, manipulate, manslaughter feyd: hot damn

[austinbutlerslovers]

Feyd Fantasy

Label mature 18+

Pleasure & Pain

Summary

The destiny guiding Bene Gesserits select you to marry Feyd Rautha. The nephew to the Baron of the great house Harkonnen.

You will secure an heir for their selective genetics program to try again for an all powerful being. A Kwisatz Haderach with the ability to see through all space and time, past, present, and future.

Feyd was set to be married with an Atredies female to secure the birth of the Kwisatz Haderach but the plan failed when House Atredies birthed a male. Now the Bene Gesserits must salvage Feyd Rauthas genetics through your impregnation for another chance.

Feyd Rautha Harkonnen however is psychotic, sadistic and sick. On your wedding night he tortures and breeds you mercilessly to procure his heir.

Established relationship new wife

Starts off heavy Sci Fi Dune Ends with sexual insanity

⚠️ Hardcore Smut ⚠️

Sexual torture•manhandling•male dominance •restraints•shibari•ownership•humiliation•knife play sex toys•nipple play•mentions of blood •mentions of being stabbed•mentions of bodily fluids•vaginal vasodilation •overstretching•overstimulation•orgasm denial•clit play•oral sex on female•squirting• multiple orgasms•cum eating•ovulation sex•sex in heat• size kink•breeding kink•multiple cream pies

⚠️Pure Feyd Rautha breeding smut ⚠️ ✍🏼 Proof-writer @faegoddessog

Part 1 •Part 2 •Part 3• Part 4 •Part 5• Part 6

⏳Extreme Dune Inaccuracies⌛️. UPDATE: confirmed it’s pretty Dune accurate with the Bene Gesserit Breeding program 🏆 💝Not for my softies🆕 Skip to Austins Bath ➡️

Inspo: ⚔️Multiple anonymous requests combined: -unsuspecting female -mysteriously drawn to him -merged houses/marriage -female of nobility -ovulating female in heat -Feyd Pain Dom -Feyd Pleasure Dom -Knife play no gore - Feyds cock description -Oral sex squirting on Feyds tongue -Brutal breeding sex -Womb Implantation

✍🏼 written & corrected with @faegoddessog 👑

Pleasure & Pain

The Bene Gesserit breeding program failed when house Atreides birthed a male instead of a female. After centuries of breeding to join House Harkonnen and house Atreides to create a Kwisatz Haderach all seemed nearly lost.

The Kwisatz Haderach would be an all powerful being able to see through time, space, past, present, and future to control destiny. With the Atreides male assumed dead the Bene Gesserit order take a desperate measure to ensure they can try for a Kwisatz Haderach again. They will salvage the desirable genetics of the young Harkonnen heir, Feyd Rautha for the next generation.

When you are called to see your leader the reverend mother you are not expecting to be the female chosen to carry the genetics for the future Kwisatz Haderach.

You are a devoted young Bene Gesserit with the proper bloodline from noble houses. You will be impregnated by Feyd Rautha and continue his lineage salvaging their Genetics program.

The decision has already been made with an arranged marriage to be held on his planet, Giedi Prime. Everything must be done hastily before anything unexpected happens to the body of Feyd Rautha. Should he die they will lose their chance.

They arrange the wedding before his upcoming fight in the arena to kill his 100th gladiator. They can not risk the error if he is slaughtered.

Not only are you to be impregnated with his heir to secure the future Kwisatz Haderach, you must also bind his mind with a physiological fail safe using the prana-bindu phrases of your Bene Gesserit training.

The reverend mother believes they are sending you like an innocent to be defiled. Your training is not complete, your sight is barely awakened and your pain tolerance is underdeveloped.

You have not gone through the proper training crucial for long term survival with a psychopath such as Feyd. However your genetic line, with the ability to control your ovulation and select the gender of your unborn, will salvage their breeding program entirely. That is the final deciding factor.

Harkonnen Fortress Giedi Prime

Feyd Rautha’s excessive ambitions for power made him seem deranged. He would do anything to secure the throne as Baron.

He had been groomed from childhood to become the next reigning by his detestable Uncle, the current Baron. Feyd Rautha had lethal finesse and extremely seductive charm, the skills of an excellent leader.

However due to his disastrous upbringing by his lecherous uncle he was now primed to be a ruthless killing machine and sexual deviant without restraint.

He was able to suppress his blood lust and sexual debauchery from the public eye, but behind closed doors he was a bloodthirsty, pain-inflicting sadist.

Agreeing to an arranged marriage was a simple task to Feyd. It would mean the furtherance of his greater goal; becoming the Baron and perhaps, he thought, the next Emperor.

As he and his uncle sat in the meeting hall to discuss his future obligations, Feyd sat spread across his throne. His knees were parted wide, his elbows on the armrest, his back is laid low against his seat. He played with his knife inflicting pain on his finger to the point of piercing it without a change of expression.

When his uncle brought up the betrothal, Feyd Rautha didn't pay much attention. When it was decided that he would ascend to the throne, Feyd sheathed his knife and sat up listening with more intent to what his marital duties might be.

He knew that he would have to take a female with a compatible bloodline. He was in no way bound to actually care for her. The marriage would be political and aside from initial customary meetings, he didn't have to spend any time with her at all.

The first few days after the wedding they were certain to share a bed. The first night being of the utmost importance in consummating an heir. After that it would be like any other political marriage; loveless and distant.

These facts didn't bother Feyd Rautha Harkonnen, it was all part of his duty as the next Baron.

Weeks Later: Giedi Prime

You were arriving on Giedi Prime the night before your wedding day. Compared to your home world it was colder, darker, and dirtier. The buildings were enormous, gray and industrial. Heavy clouds filled the sky.

Having seen a portrait of Feyd you found his looks mysterious yet strikingly handsome. You were made aware of his sexual debauchery and brutal upbringing from several trusted sources.

They had shown concern, but were not sure the full extent of his degradation. What they did know is he was raised to be a ruthless killer and sexual deviant. He had his choice of pleasure slaves and was confirmed to be psychotic and depraved in nature.

He, however, is completely unaware of your true intentions.

His uncle was led to believe you would marry his sadistic, bloodthirsty nephew Feyd and save his bloodline which would guarantee a future for the Harkonnen dynasty.

He eagerly joined your two houses, securing his depraved psychotic nephew an heir and increasing the validity of his status simultaneously.

In reality you were sent on a mission to salvage Feyd Rauthas genetics for the Bene Gesserit breeding program which only selected the ancestral lines of great houses such as the Harkonnens for centuries.

When the deed is done you are to whisper the prana-bindu phrases in his ear as he sleeps to bend him and hypno-ligatiate his psyche. With the utterance of one specific word it would be used to weaken him to the point of complete muscle paralysis. This would be used if he ever became a threat to the Bene Gesserit plans.

With his sperm implanted in your womb you would secure the future Kwisatz Haderach for the Bene Gesserit Order.

Being part of this secret order gave you extremely special abilities. You gained control over your own biology and were able to ovulate and choose the gender of your unborn at conception.

Once Feyd penetrates you he would become addicted to your sex, and you could seduce him even further to do what the Order desired.

Wedding Ceremony

The entire courtship was hastened due to his impending gladiatorial fight and increased his risk of death. When you finally see Feyd it is in the great hall on opposite ends of the vast stage for the wedding ceremony.

As you wait for the festivities to commence you take your first long look at him waiting on the other side of the stage

He is stoic and imposing, tall and handsome. Almost in complete contrast to his repulsive uncle. The only resemblances are the pale whiteness of his skin and complete lack of hair.

Not even eyebrows frame his hunter’s eyes. He was hauntingly beautiful in this way, his high cheekbones accentuating his deep set blue eyes. His perfectly angular nose drawing your eyes to his plump full lips and defined jawline.

You had an immense attraction to him. He was regal, wearing black ceremonial garments made of elaborate fabrics showing his status and wealth.

Feeling your gaze, he turns his attention and lays eyes on you for the first time. He is astonished by your beauty.

He had no initial interest in seeing your appearance. Now with his sights on you he is fascinated. You have defiant, piercing eyes and beautiful features without ornament. He feels something stir in him, though he was stripped of his emotions long ago. What remained now was a ruthless fighter and soon to be Baron.

You wore a white hooded gown, though he could still see your healthy radiant hairline. The vibrance of your face and hands, the only skin visible to him, is soft and delicate. The shape of your body in the tightness of the form fitting gown impresses him greatly.

He is very pleased you will belong to him. Though he tries to hide it a maniacal smile forms across his lips. He will defile you in so many ways on the wedding night, training your body to obey him or be punished. A perfect pet he thought, unsuspecting, of high-born status, and far prettier than his others.

You are both called together to join on stage in front of his uncle the Baron. Tens of thousands of the populous cheer in the Great hall as you embrace Feyd for the first time.

You both stand together and offer your arms to the Baron’s Lord in waiting. He locks each of your wrists to the end of an indestructible chain and bestows the key to Feyd Rautha. You face the crowd holding your hands up together making the chain taught.

"Like the unbreakable chain our everlasting union" Feyd yells and the crowd erupts into even bigger cheers. You gaze into each other's eyes full of passionate promise to each other.

"I will make Feyd the new emperor!" The Baron yells to the crowd caught in the fervor of seeing his nephew and protege increase in status before his eyes.

Feyd pulls out his ceremonial sword from his hip looking into the crowd as he lifts it in the air. "And I will slay my 100th warrior in the gladiator arena in dedication to the Future Baroness," he yells his strongest.

The crowd erupts into loud chants for Feyd. It is customary for him to fight in the arena to show his valor. He and his uncle used the grand display of fights to their advantage, gaining favor with the populous. The Baron would always tip the odds in favor of Feyd to win.

Later that evening you return to your chambers after the wedding banquet. The elaborate affair was full of entertainment crowded with the Harkonnen inner circle. With conversations, food, and several cheers of congratulations, you and Feyd only caught glimpses of each other throughout the entire event. It was now time to prepare for the wedding night

You were bathed and styled by two servants and wore a sheer white sleeved gown. You are completely bare underneath. The thinness of the shimmering fabric is near invisible, showing your breasts and bare genitalia.

Once the slaves leave your chamber it allows you a moment to collect your thoughts and begin your mission.

You call upon your Bene Gesserit blood with intuition of your inner workings in your mind, seeking out and triggering your ovulation to start. With controlled precision, you will the fluids in the rest of your body to comply.

It was done, you are primed and ready for impregnation.

You leave your bed chamber and the servants place a black cloak over your shoulders clasping it in the front to cover your modesty.

Feyds Chamber

The fortress is massive, you walk through several passages and corridors until you reach Feyds quarters. It is a large two story section with a grand staircase leading down to a courtyard. An accompanying servant presses an alert at the base of the stairs. They both bow and hastily leave your presence.

After a moment of waiting you see Feyd-Rautha come to the banister above. He gazes down at you enraptured. Even fully covered in a black cloak the excitement builds inside of him for what you look like underneath.

He wears a sleeveless black tunic tied loosely at his waist. His strong chest and abs are prominent above his black fabric slacks. In the moonlight his ivory skin is glowing making him look ethereal. He gestures with his hand for you to come. You lift the hem of your gown and climb the stairs as he watches.

Once you reach the landing he invites you inside to follow him through the large floor to ceiling double doors. When you enter he pulls them shut behind you with a resounding thud. He secures a bolt down locking you both in. You assume it's for his safety but little warnings in your mind tell you otherwise. His chamber is enormous, everything is muted gray and black, void of all color.

There is a large black open frame canopy bed in the center of his chamber. The sheets are gray with black tied curtains at each post, the headboard is padded.

Just beyond his bed is a spacious balcony overlooking the front courtyard of the fortress. There is a long table at the foot of his bed frame. An assortment of peculiar metallic devices and a coil of black rope are organized on its surface.

Two large display cases are spaced on each side of his bed which strangely face out to the balcony. There is also a second table there with a collection of more odd looking dangerous items.

He has no decor or plants or art just a dark, still, lifeless room that gives you the chills.

His eyes never left you as you entered his chamber. You turn to face him, remembering your mission. He pulls his tunic open revealing his extremely muscled physique.

You stare at his pale chiseled chest and powerful muscular arms. Your eyes linger on his hard abs and small waist as he lets his tunic fall to the floor. You are attracted to him, you can't fight your physical urges.

He comes to stand in front of you shirtless in low black fabric slacks, an empty knife holster rests on his waist.

His body is pure muscled alabaster perfection. You want to touch him everywhere.

Everything he does is so elaborate and unpredictable you can't even begin to figure out what he wants.

You start by pulling your cloak from your shoulders letting it drop to the floor revealing yourself to him.

His piercing gaze studies your form, loving the way you are physically shaped, your beautiful curves accentuated in the sheer white transparent gown.

He seductively stares at your perfect nipples already wanting to pinch them, he sees the curves beneath he's been dying to touch. He sucks his teeth, making a clicking sound, when he sees your bare genitalia, increasing his sexual urges.

Sensing he is pleased, you break the long silence, "What would you like, will you show me?" you ask and gently take his wrist. You pull his hand just shy of your body, leaving the choice to him.

His primed sadistic mentality already wants to knock your innocent confidence. He reaches his hand and places it delicately around your soft throat pressing his thumb up and down your larynx watching your reaction.

You look up into his eyes and can't form a single thought as the fear creeps in. His psychotic gaze immediately instills his dominance over you. His strength and imposing size makes you feel timid.

His squeeze on your neck begins slowly, testing when you’ll make him stop.

You instinctively reach your hands up and grab his wrist when you begin to panic. He smiles at you and slowly returns to caressing your throat gently.

"Such a delicate little pet.” he says with a grin revealing his black teeth. You are at a loss for words as you stare at him realizing everything they say about him is true.

He gazes into your soft pretty eyes and he knows you'll be different. The way your eyes plead with him, even putting up resistance holding his wrist. He smiles at your efforts trying to resist him.

Everything is in his control.

He looks over your curvature wondering how good you will feel sheathed on his cock. His eyes begin to wander over your body thinking of other ways he wants to derive his pleasure out of you.

What will agonize you the most for his sexual gratification. His eyes suddenly pause between your thighs, already wet from him. He tilts his head to the side in curiosity.

He grips your dress up at the waist and reaches his hand between your legs. He slips his fingers through your wet folds. Your body tenses, then relaxes when he knows exactly how to touch you that has your body craving it. He feels how wet you are and stops. He removes his fingers collecting what he wanted.

“Your body is so responsive to me and I haven't even begun to touch you yet,” he lifts his hand to your face showing you his glistening fingers covered in your slick wetness for him.

You've gone mute, so aroused and so terrified of him forgetting all of your training.

Seeing you can't even form words due to shock he pushes his wet fingers between your parted lips, gesturing you to suck. He abruptly snatches them out when you do and dives his lips onto yours, licking the arousal off of your tongue before the taste disappears. His breathy moan against your mouth as he enjoys it makes you go weak for him.

He's terrifying, yet beautiful as he presses his soft full lips on yours. You find yourself pining for more encouraging him to give it to you. You press your breasts against his chest and pull his small waist to yours, loving the feel of his strong muscled form against your body.

You eagerly push your mouth onto his as he kisses you. His wide tongue begins enveloping your small mouth, he gently flicks his tip against yours like a snake.

You let out a sound of pleasure from the feeling which makes him stop. He pulls back and grins. You are stunned as he leaves you where you stand and heads to the table at the foot of his giant bed. He picks up the length of black rope.

He returns to you motioning you to put your wrists out. He looms over you and binds them tightly with intricate knots. Each pull on the rope rocks your body. He works to ensure they are perfect like a work of art.

He wants them taught, to see the marks you will make as you struggle to free your wrists against the bindings. The thought of the marks he'll leave on your body to remind you of your training start to make him hard. He shakes the thought from his mind, more excited about the next part of his plan.

Sexual Torture

He smiles looking up at you. He walks backwards never breaking his gaze as he lets out a measure of rope between you two.

"Come pet" he commands and yanks you forward like an animal. You have no choice but to follow and obey.

He walks you entirely past his giant bed leading you instead out to the arch way of his balcony. Confusion forms in your mind why he would lead you here as the chill of the night air hits your body.

He looks up and loops the rope through an eye hook bolt purposefully embedded in the archway above him. He's calm and focused as he pulls the rope through the large eye, forcing you to walk closer and closer to him until your arms are being lifted directly over your head.

He bends down on one knee staring at your feet as he pulls the rope higher until your heels begin to lift up. Once you are balancing on your toes, he secures the rope to another anchor hook on the frame of the balcony.

He stands tall in front of you to check his work pulling down on your trapped wrists checking that the rope is taught. He glides his hands down your arms and over your breasts. With the night air hardening your nipples he can't resist touching them.

He pinches them and you gasp. He slowly pulls them up until you begin standing higher on your toes, the pain becoming unbearable as he nearly lifts you from the ground. "FEYD Please!" you cry out for mercy, he instantly releases them back to your body.

“Such a spoiled pet I will change that" he coos. His eyes are intense and terrifying as he stares into your soft, beautiful, panic stricken ones.

He knows he is going to mentally and physically break you into complete obedience tonight. You aren’t even able to withstand his simplest tests of endurance.

He smiles knowing you belong to him you are his spoiled little pet now. Kept perfect and beautiful, always getting her way before him. Now he will ruin you for his pleasure.

He turns from you back into his chamber, leaving you strung up in the archway. You watch his movements inside. He is physically dominanting in strength and size, a perfect killing machine. All the muscles show prominently beneath his porcelain skin.

You desperately hope he shows gentleness when he breeds you, but your instincts tell you he will only know how to be brutal. A shiver runs down your spine at the thought.

Everything he does fills you with such strong hits of fear, but there are brief moments when he looks at you, kisses you, and touches you that are so soft you are internally begging for more.

Even with his depravity your core is throbbing for him. your body is covered in chills needing to be touched by his hands, you want him.

Your Bene Gesserit training working perfectly. You are ovulating and ready to mate. You hope his torturous game ends soon and he takes you in his warm bed to consummate the marriage and this nightmare is over.

You look to your left studying the table covered with an assortment of items there. Some phallic shaped, some glowing. You hear the click sound drawing your attention back inside to him. He unlocks his display case facing the balcony. Seeing inside once he hinges both large doors open makes your heart jump as a cold fear wracks your body.

Glinting within the display case, is an assortment of his knives. Each row looks more threatening and painful than the next.

Your eyes lose focus, feeling dizzy. You can't bear the idea of being cut or stabbed on your beautiful skin. You fidget your wrists together above your head to relieve some of the anxiety, but it only makes you feel more confined to your situation.

He carefully inspects each knife, wanting to pair the perfect one with you. He smiles as he pulls out a rare beautiful irredentist white handled one.

You watch as he takes the blade up to his tongue and slowly licks down the edge testing its sharpness. He's psychotic.

When he returns standing in front of you wielding the blade you close your eyes.

You let out a choked off whine when you feel the cold steel press against your throat. Your eyes fly open in fear. Feyd yanks your head back by the hair to expose your throat even more. He trails the knife against your most vulnerable spot.

"Feyd please, please..." you beg him for mercy. You twist your hands in vain trying to slip your wrists through the restraints, you are completely trapped.

You focus on your mission to be bred by him and beg even more. "Please I'll do everything you ask, just let me touch you, I want you, I will give myself to you, please not like this."

Upon hearing your words he slowly releases your hair. You look back into his cold dark eyes as yours softly plead with him. He removes the knife from your throat.

With perfect precision, he slices down your dress kneeling as the knife glides through the fabric without a sound. He stands back up and begins cutting off your sleeves. The cloths fall to the floor leaving you hanging trembling and completely naked.

He wanted to climax watching your blood spill on him, but your voice stirred something deep inside of his mind.

You watch as he heads back to his blade showcase. As he searches in it, you hope he is done with his knife. Instead he sheaths it at his hip.

Collecting what he wanted he returns with a ball gag. You resist holding your lips closed and he grabs your jaw hinging your mouth open. He pushes the ball inside strapping it on your mouth. "MMMFF" you yell against the ball as it absorbs your cries.

He stands behind you securing the buckle tight. He grabs a fistful of your hair and tugs your head back to rasp against your ear. "Now I can fully enjoy this pretty body without that mouth.”

The things you say are making him feel things he doesn't like to feel, and think things he doesn't want to think. You willingly wanting to give yourself to him is softening his resolve.

He is not soft, he wants to use you and dominate your body, getting off on your pain. He cups and squeezes your breasts from behind, pinching your nipples hard to distract himself back to the physical.

His touch is painful but you moan and arc your back to press against his cock. You want him inside of you not even able to think about torturing you anymore.

He falters and gives into his sexual urges sliding his hands down to your waist and pushing himself back against you. His eyes close as soon as he feels the heat between your legs warming his cock. It hardens his length making him want to breed with you.

He quickly pulls the knife from his hip trying to change the satisfaction of his urges. He brings the blade inches from your neck and presses his lips to your ear.

"Hold still for me pet" he whispers. He bites your lobe with his black teeth, you’ve aroused him so much his hand slips.

You feel the cold sharp point of his knife lightly scrape against your neck where he plans to cut you. You completely panic trying to move away from him. You yank your wrists against the restraints wanting to be freed. Your screams begging him not to hurt you muffled by the gag. He sheaths his knife seeing your defiance.

"Let's see how many times I need to make you cum until you obey me then,” he says finding your hopeless defiance amusing. It's the sign of someone who has never been broken before and he savors it.

He goes to the table on the balcony searching and pulling a large, metal, cylindrical shaped pill into one hand and a phallic shaped one in the other. He kneels down in front of you and brings the pill between your legs. He rests it at your entrance, making you tense.

"You'll cum only on my command," he instructs as he stares into your eyes.

You nod relieved it will be pleasurable. He pushes the shiny metal pill high inside of you with two fingers until it stops at your cervix. His fingers feel so good you clench as he slips them out.

As soon as the pill warms to your body temperature and detects your heartbeat, it begins to pulse and vibrate your entire pelvis.

Your abs constrict with each pulse and you immediately let out sounds of pleasure feeling the vibrations deep in your core. He presses the phallus on your clit and it hums as he wands it between your folds and back up to your clit again.

You moan into the gag, chest heaving as you toss your head back in ecstasy. The pill increasing in intensity with your body.

One clicking set of pulses on the inside as he wands over your clit on the outside has you curl your abdomen due to sexual overstimulation. You lift your knees up trying to relieve the intensity but he pushes your legs back down with his hand and presses the vibrating phallus into your clit even harder making your mind goes weak. The pleasure is immeasurable you fight your physical urges to cum as long as you can.

He moves the phallus to your entrance pushing it inside as the pill vibrates its strongest. Your moans are unending. You squeeze your legs together as he holds the phallus inside of you and you immediately fail. You orgasm moaning so loudly your teeth vibrate against the ball gag. Wave after wave of euphoria crashes through your entire body.

You feel a huge surge of endorphins as the pill stops. He slips the phallus out as you come down. Your breaths are heaving. Your head is bowed low, chills cover the expanse of your body. It was too pleasurable.

You hear him click his tongue in disapproval. "I didn't say you could cum, now we have to start over." He stares at you, waiting until you finally tilt your head up and nod. Your reactions are delayed the orgasm demolished you.

He puts on a ring that matches the pill and gently reaches two fingers inside of you. The pill slides down to connect with his ring and he pulls it out of your wetness. It makes you moan, you feel empty again.

Your sounds of pleasure excite him. He places the tip of the phallus under your chin tilting your face up to meet his gaze. "I enjoyed watching you cum, you make the prettiest sounds. I'll give you more, but this time, you'll cum on my command or I will punish you." He says inflecting his words deliberately at the end

You quickly nod, wanting to be good for him and avoid any pain. The pleasure he gives you is so addicting your body already craves more.

He puts his pill and phallus aside and picks up a vial of glowing liquid coating his fingers with it as he stands in front of you.

He reaches between your legs, covering your folds inside and out. His slippery fingers explore over all the flesh between your legs, spreading the liquid around liberally.

It feels so warm, and good, and pleasurable. You close your eyes, nipples hardening as you enjoy suddenly feeling more sensitive to his touch. It amuses him, he uses this arousal fluid on his most depraved pleasure slaves to make them cum.

He smiles to himself admiring how beautiful your face is in pleasure. He rewards you with a soft pinch to your clit, releasing a pretty moan from your lips. He might make you his favorite pet after his training tonight.

He slowly pushes his middle and index fingers into you, spreading the fluid inside and then holding them still as he waits. This time you fully feel the effect of the substance as it relaxes your walls and the blood begins coursing to your softening core. You feel an intense throbbing inside and out, especially on your clit.

You struggle to keep your eyes focused on his face, the feeling extreme. Your head tilts downward as your abs tighten. You endure wave after wave of powerful pulsing and intense throbbing between your legs. Your eyes close as you moan softly into the gag. Your entire body relaxes, floating in mental ecstasy.

He smiles knowing the effects are taking over. He starts to scissor his fingers inside of you, opening you up. The feeling is so good and intense, you moan and drool on the gag as your core tightens. He loves seeing you so aroused getting a high from it.

He shoves his fingers in and out of you until you are on the verge of another orgasm. The arousal fluid working so well he can push his third finger inside of you. You begin to whimper and whine as he shoves it in with the other two stretching you out and stuffing you full.

He scissors all three making a wave of pleasure swell inside of your core triggering your climax. You moan in euphoria losing tears and drool as your body constricts around his fingers.

"Does my little pet want to cum?" he asks. You nod and moan against the ball gag, tears fall from your eyes as you clench inside ready to orgasm. "You'll cum when I say" he smirks darkly making you endure more.

You whine at his denial.

He pushes his fingers up, spreading them wide, and curls them back down inside of you. If the gag wasn't in your mouth you would be high-pitched moaning so loudly everyone in the courtyard would hear it.

His cock twitches from the sound. He's beginning to enjoy pleasing you more than inflicting pain on you.

The feeling is so euphoric as he spreads you open. Your walls begin rhythmically expanding and contracting on his fingers. You don't even recognize the animalistic sounds escaping your throat as you erupt into an orgasm.

You release so much pleasure and liquid from your core it renders your body completely listless. The gag vibrates in your mouth as you deeply moan in aftershock.

Your wrists go limp in the restraints as you struggle to recover. The throbbing subsides leaving you weak and brainless as you leak arousal all over his fingers and his hand.

You whine against your drool covered gag remembering you weren't supposed to cum. He pulls his wet fingers out leaving you empty.

He brings his hand up to his mouth and slides his long tongue out. He licks his hand entirely clean enjoying the taste of your sweet cum. The slick clear texture of your ovulation makes him urge to have thick ropes of his seed coating your walls. It softens his crueler intentions

He squeezes your face by the jaw to look up at him. "I wanted to reward you and take off your restraints but you came again without my permission and now you will be punished" He watches you shiver before he continues. "I will do it lightly. I want to pleasure you and taste that sweet cum you make for me again," his voice sounds gentler as he releases your jaw.

A chill runs down your spine wondering what he considers a light punishment. He begins to pull your rope from the anchor hook back down into his hands.

As your arms lower you feel the blood begin flowing to your limbs again giving you relief. He releases the ball gag from your mouth relaxing your even more. He wipes your tears and chin clean. He looks you over, still so beautiful to him. Your wrists bright red with dots of blood, pupils blown wide from shock.

He's pleasured you brainless now he wants to fuck you boneless.

The Atonement

He suddenly yanks the rope pulling your wrists. "Come get your punishment pet," he watches the look of surprise returning some vitality to your washed out eyes.

You feel the knots in your stomach thinking of what torture he has in store. He has already defragmented your mind to pieces, you will do anything he asks. He pulls you along until he reaches his table at the foot of the bed. He looses the rope and steps down on it making you kneel to the floor bowing down at his feet.

He sifts through the items on the table finding what he wants and yanks you up by your rope to kneel. He brings a dainty silver chain in front of you in his hands. At first you think its a necklace until he clamps one end on your right nipple and the other end on your left.

Your body constricts as you try to get used to the feeling. Your nipples become extremely hard in the clamps, it is pleasurable yet painful at the same time sending chills across your body.

"You are such a soft pet, so I will only punish you lightly," he says and begins pulling the chain up it sharpens the pinch of the metal on your nipples making you cry out.

He lifts the chain higher beckoning you to stand. You struggle to lift from kneeling with your hands tied in front of you. He never releases his tight hold on the chain as you try to get up. You finally gain your footing and stand in front of him.

Your body jolts when he tugs your nipple chain pulling you into him. He begins kissing your throat and with the way he licks and sucks onto your neck it makes you give in to him completely.

He takes his time and sucks loving bruises across the entire front of your neck making a collar. Your moans and whimpers sound so good close to his ear. They are his new favorite sounds and he wants more.

He reaches his hand up cupping your jaw kissing your lips passionately. As he kisses you he begins to savor every touch of your lips together.

The feeling is foreign to him, not having the urge to cause you pain to get aroused. His cock is growing hard between his legs just knowing he's giving you pleasure. You finally touch him, rubbing your bound hands on the hard length of his growing cock. It entices a deep moan out of him.

He parts from you and pulls his knife. You whimper in fear, remaining completely still; trembling yet obedient. He brings the knife down to your wrists cutting each knot on your restraints one by one.

Your freed wrists are incredibly bruised and red with blood. He inspects them remembering how much you struggled when you were tied.

Instead of arousal he feels something else inside that he thinks is remorse. The thought strikes him, you are his baroness his wife and he can never mark on you this way again. He rubs his thumbs across the marks thinking of how he can atone.

He removes his knife and holster from his waist and sets them on the table. He picks up another metallic phallus and pill knowing what you like. He pulls you onto the bed making you lay in the middle.

You look up and see a mirror on his ceiling. You watch in the reflection as he settles between your legs with his face instead of his body.

He softly pushes the pill deep inside of you and removes his fingers. As it detects your vitals and begins to pulse. He taps the phallus on and presses it to your clit. You let out a pleasurable sound that he likes and he smiles.

He presses the humming phallus to your entrance and you spread your legs wider inviting him in. He enjoys it and grazes his black teeth against your soft inner thighs biting and sucking equal bruises on each side.

The pill pulses slowly inside of your body making you softly moan. He presses the phallus to your clit again and looks into your eyes. He enjoys watching your face get softer and softer from the pleasure building inside of you.

The pill starts vibrating deeply against your cervix making you want to cum. He pushes the phallus all the way in and snakes his hand up your navel pulling your nipple chain and holding it taught. All three stimuli at once make you strongly orgasm, moaning into the air.

He removes the phallus and grabs your thighs pulling them wider lowering his face between your legs. You watch as he slowly unfurls his long tongue and presses the flat wide part on your clit and laps up the clear slick cum of your orgasm. Your core tightens as you begin to moan his name and praise him repeatedly.

He smiles darkly against your folds. Your praises sound so good to him encouraging him to do more. He begins to lick and suck harder, spreading his mouth all over between your legs. He ravishes you until your body is covered in chills trembling in ecstasy.

You look up into the mirror on the ceiling seeing your face blissed out in euphoria. You watch Feyds pale muscular back flexing as he holds your thighs open and devours you between your legs.

Your core begins pounding as you moan louder watching him ravage you in the reflection. As Feyd continues to lick and suck the pill powerfully hums increasing its intensity until you are at your peak.

Your body tenses and then relents into ecstasy. You have a cataclysmic orgasm squirting liquid from your core directly into Feyds wanting mouth.

He moans deeply in pleasure as he drinks it out of you swallowing and lapping up every last drop before tonguing deep inside of you wanting more. His cock hardens completely solid.

You shiver involuntarily as you come down from your orgasm and let out a breathy moan. He begins licking you clean between your legs like an animal. His beast-like vulgarity overwhelms all of your senses.

Feyd climbs over you looking into your wrecked out eyes. He unclamps your nipples one at a time, another wave of relief washes through your body. He delicately inserts his ring finger into you, retrieving the now wet pill. He sits up to put all of the items back on the table.

You watch as he removes his black slacks, his entire body is chiseled like a perfect white marble statue. You are over come with arousal as you stare at the length firm standing between his muscular thighs.

His cock is long and hard, it bounces as he kneels back on the bed naked infront of you. He's completely hairless, his testes soft pink, his thick shaft alabaster white, his tip glowing red from arousal. Seeing his length and size you wonder how it will fit but you are craving to be impregnated by it.

You slowly sit up shakily at first then, turn over getting on your hands and knees. You crawl away from him climbing up the bed using all of your strength. He tilts his head wondering what your plan is.

You have to complete your mission from the Bene Gesserits, you need to be impregnated by his seed and you need it deep.

Brutal Breeding

You grab the headboard and arc your back down. With your knees parted wide you reach your hand between your legs and spread your wet pussy lips open for him.

You peek over your shoulder watching his reaction. His breathing becomes ragged, his eyes go dark as they fixate between your legs. His movements turn almost animalistic like he is stalking as he crawls to you. The urge to breed and soak his cock overwhelming all of his senses.

He kneels behind you placing one hand on your waist and the other around the base of his shaft. He rubs his thick heavy cock between your legs coating his tip and length in the slick arousal of your folds. His tip is throbbing as he presses it to your entrance sending a shiver up your spine.

You brace yourself, as he shifts on his knees and grips your waists preparing to breed you. With one powerful thrust he spears the tip of his cock into you. Your head knocks back against his shoulder as a desperate cry escapes your throat.

You pant heavily trying to adjust. With only the tip in, he pulls his hips back until it slips out. He grabs your legs, and spreads them wider to accommodate his size.

He rests his tip to your entrance a second time. You brace again as he powerfully thrusts his hips forward smacking against you. This time his cock plows directly into your cervix as his hips meet the backs of your thighs.

You gasp in shock before wailing. His first several thrusts are quite painful you arch your back and cry out in distress. He stretches you wide around his thick cock. His thrusts are brutal like he's he's stabbing you between the legs. After several pushes of his cock your vulva finally splits around his size. You become extremely wet. You cry out as he begins to thrust into you fully.

His soaked cock begins gliding in and out of your tight walls. The agony and pain soon turns into the reward of pleasure. You get accustomed to the feel of being stretched around his large size and finally begin to praise him and moan his name as you enjoy it.

The way your walls grip him is unlike any other he is instantly addicted to your sex.

"That's it pet ...take my cock," he breathes as he plows directly into your cervix with every single thrust. He begins to fuck you harder until you are both panting like you are running out of air. The slapping sounds of his skin against yours increases with his stamina. Your walls throb in pleasure as your moans fill the air

He finally pulls his hips back as he catches his breath, his cock is twitching wanting to cum. He holds your waist tighter and thrusts himself fully back into your tight hole repeatedly.

The head of his cock presses directly into your cervix as his shaft finally spasms. You feel the hotness filling you up as he bursts rope after rope of his thick cum into your open cervix.

Feyd lets out a loud choked off moan feeling one of the greatest pleasures in his life. Your walls clenching and releasing on him rhythmiclly trying to milk his cock of every drop.

He lets out a range of deep moans from the feeling and continues to thrust into you still hard. Shocks of pleasure begin racing up your spine from the overwhelming sensation. His thrusts never stop as he fucks his cum deeper inside of you.

You let out a string of high-pitched moans unable to contain your arousal as he pounds into you from behind. He grabs you around the back of your neck as he feels his second climax begin.

His cock gets even harder and seems to swell stretching you to another level of fullness. You cry out as you climax

He feels your orgasm milk his cock again with your tights walls and he deeply moans in pleasure. You are like a drug to him now. He fully sheaths himself inside of you, his cock twitches as he groans releasing a second load of cum deep into your womb.

He falls forward holding the headboard with you. Chest heaving cock throbbing as he thrusts every last drop into your core.

His hips slow to a still as he tries to catch his breath. He brings one arm down and wraps it around your torso holding you tightly to him.

He wants to remain one with you as long as possible, he doesn't want to pull out he wants his heir. His breathing slows as he finally softens.

He shakily straightens up behind you and pulls his hips back until his heavy tip slips out of you.

Only a few drops of his silver cum leak from you and he kneels behind you in worship, licking them back up and pushing them inside of you with his tongue.

He feels weak like the very life force was taken from him as he collapses back on to the bed.

He is unable to move a muscle as he slowly falls unconscious.

You come down from holding the head board to check him. His eyes are shut tight as he softly breathes. You stare down his pale white body to his now soft cock resting on his thigh. You are astonished he can cum more than once.

With his breathing slowed you think he must be in deep sleep dreaming so you can begin the prana-bindu phrases. You kneel over his ear and begin to chant them but he twitches violently in his sleep and turns on his side startling you.

Without thinking you quickly put your hand on his shoulder holding him steady to calm him. You will have to wait until he's fully asleep to whisper the phrases to bind him. You lift his head and slide your thigh under it.

You grab his muscular white arm by the wrist and drape it around your waist to hold you.

He looks so soft and beautiful without his cold piercing eyes. You wonder how he would've tuned out with the proper upbringing.

You can't help but show him affection wondering how cruel his life must've been with the Baron. You stroke his temple lovingly.

Suddenly you feel a twinge of pain in your uterus and press your hand on it. Using your mind to control your body you will the selection of the gender. The pain travels up your fallopian tube to your ovary and dissipates. You are pregnant with Feyds unborn.

You hope he has enough humanity left in him for your future child's sake. The severity hits you suddenly as you look down at his sleeping face.

You still have a mission. You need his breathing to be heavier. He needs to be in deep sleep with his eyelids moving while he's dreaming before you whisper the phrases this time.

You caress his shoulders and his neck and ears before it dawns on you. Maybe he has nothing to dream about. You know he craves being praised and begin to speak softly over his ear as you caress him.

"Feyd Rautha is so handsome, he is so brave and he will conquer every fighter in the gladiator arena in his upcoming fight."

His shoulder twitches and his face slightly warms into a wicked smile before returning back.

You think harder

"Feyd, your wife is pregnant with your unborn, soon you will be Baron and have your heir."

His arm squeezes firmer around your waist hugging onto you. You intertwine your fingers with his and softly rest your hand on his head. You watch as his lips part and his breathing becomes heavier. His eyelids finally shift as he begins to dream.

You quickly whisper prana-bindu phases into his ear binding him and watch as his eyelids open a sliver, showing the whites of his eyes and then close. It is done.

You lift his head and gently rest it back to the bed pulling the blanket to cover him. You will go back to your chambers now that the deed is done. He can do what he wants and you will remain obedient enough that he doesn't discard you or kill you. You will await further orders from the Bene Gesserits.

When you step from the bed you wince in pain as a dull ache begins to form between your legs. He's bred you so brutally you can barely walk.

You will think of ways to make him gentler now that he enjoys giving you pleasure. You rest your hand against the banister of his bed before you can take another step.

You check your body. Your wrists and inner thighs are covered with bruises, you reach your hand to your neck remembering he sucked there across the entire front. Finally you reach between your legs and wince from the tenderness. You look back at Feyd still sleeping soundly. You slowly walk to collect your cloak and escape.

You find it at the entrance in the darkened room on the floor and clasp it back on. You get to his large bedroom doors and see the bolt resting across. You are almost completely out of strength as you try to push the bolt up. It lifts and falls back too quickly making a loud click sound as it settles.

Feyd is already up when he hears the familiar sound.

He comes and strips your cloak off of your body and picks you up over his shoulder carrying you back to his bed. He looks you over as he lays you down.

"Are you going to stay or do I have to tie you up?" his voice sounds very tired.

"I'll stay," you say knowing he would tie you up if you said otherwise.

He goes to re-secure the door before climbing back into bed with you.

He nudges you with his hands making you go higher and higher up the bed until your back is resting against his head board. He settles between your legs laying his head on your thigh.

His muscular shoulders are prominent in your lap as he wraps his arms around your hips hugging you. His affectionate embrace shocks you.

He tugs at your wrist, wanting your hand on his head. You wonder if he remembered this in his sleep as you begin to stroke behind his ear and down his neck.

He is addicted to the way you comfort him, feeling love and affection softens him completely for you. His hand creeps from around you to rest over your navel.

He stares at it like he is imagining his baby growing inside and gently caresses your womb.

Your ears tingle wondering if he realizes. When he kisses you at the exact place above your unborn, you understand somehow he must already know.

Your eyes grow weary, your body begins completely shutting down from shock and stress. You slowly fall unconscious resting your head back to the headboard.

When your hand stops caressing him he tugs it once then looks up realizing you are asleep. He sits up and cradles your head in his hands as he brings you down from the headboard to lay in his bed.

You are completely out. He looks at your sleeping face feeling a mix of pain for hurting you and happiness that you are his. The new emotions are overwhelming to him he tries to block them out.

Laying down with you he covers you both. He pulls you onto his chest placing your hand across his shoulder to hold him. He closes his eyes and slowly drifts into a deep sleep dreaming he is Baron of Giedi Prime with his Baroness and his heir.

~*END*~To Be Continued

UPDATE: Part 2 Now Available ✍🏼

🏷️ @burnthheparaphilia @elvismylove04 @lindszeppelin @obsessedvibee @abswifey @austiebuttbutt @jessica987 @oh-my-front-door @slowsweetlove @purejasmine @hardcoredisneynerd @i5uckersblog @phil2135561 @steph-speaks @maloribarnes1999 @austinswhitewolf @berlinalv

[luminnara]

Traditions | Feyd-Rautha x Reader

REQUEST: As Feyd-Rautha's wife-to-be, you have moved to the Harkonnen homeworld to await your wedding. You're doing your best to adhere to their customs, but when a supposed doctor examines your 'purity,' Feyd-Rautha's reaction is anything but calm.

MASTERLIST

Requests are open! This was one of the first I received for Feyd-Rautha, I hope you enjoy!

WARNINGS: SA in a medical setting (not graphic but also more than just implied), canon typical violence (also not graphic)

Harkonnen customs were strange.

Harkonnens were strange.

Everything about Giedi Prime felt alien to you—its black sun, bathing the world in infrared; its barren landscape, polluted and abused by years of unbridled industry; and, perhaps most of all, its nobility, the Baron and his his nephew, Feyd-Rautha.

“A Harkonnen?” You had choked out when your parents informed had you of the decision. You had been in disbelief, as if reality had come to slap you in the face. All you had ever known was your homeworld and the comforts of the family palace, on a planet that was lush and beautiful. Everything you had ever heard of the Harkonnen homeworld was the opposite—harsh and inhospitable, its people even more so. You had resisted the information initially, refusing to believe that your life was changing so suddenly and so dramatically.

But, ever the dutiful daughter, you stood and met the na-Baron when he arrived, openly staring at his appearance while another Harkonnen introduced him. Feyd-Rautha was extremely pale, his skin nearly white, and, like the rest of the delegation from Giedi Prime, he was hairless. He did not even have eyebrows, and as your father welcomed him to your world, you wondered if he was truly hairless, everywhere.

As your thoughts wandered, the na-Baron’s eyes slid to you, meeting yours. You suddenly felt as though you had been caught doing something naughty, the way he looked at you, drinking you in, tilting his head slightly as he appraised you.

“Is the na-Baron pleased with what he sees?” You spoke up in a moment of bravery.

His eyes raked over your body and he smirked, making a rough sound you assumed might be a laugh.

“Oh yes, princess.” His voice was just as harsh as you’d expected. “Very.”

Feyd-Rautha spent a week on your planet, courting you in the ways of your House. He presented you with gifts of refined spice and Harkonnen riches, knives and strangely austere jewelry. He walked with you in the evenings, where you spoke of mundane things, unsure of what you were meant to do in his presence exactly, and he watched you like a hawk hunting a field mouse. When the week was up, you accompanied him back to Giedi Prime to prepare for the wedding, leaving your homeworld behind.

Feyd-Rautha was less well behaved when not surrounded by the members of another House. He was an unsettling, panther-like man, always on the hunt for something to kill…and when you arrived on his planet, you saw that he sometimes killed without abandon, fighting drugged prisoners in a public arena to satisfy his own ego.

You were not sure that you wanted him as your husband—he seemed somewhat disinterested in you, leaving you to the guest chambers you would eventually be moving out of in favor for his bed. Your first week on Giedi Prime was another of courtship, though this time in the ways of his people, and you were honored to witness his fighting prowess in that arena beneath that strange sun. You dined with him and his uncle the Baron Vladimir, a large and unpleasant man, one you could tell your husband-to-be felt no real love towards. Feyd-Rautha simply enjoyed that he would one day take the Baron’s place, and when Vladimir commented on your figure one evening, you saw the way Feyd’s jaw tensed. Perhaps he did want you as his wife, after all.

Another strange Harkonnen custom revealed itself to you toward the end of that week, when a doctor entered your chambers and informed you that your purity was to be inspected.

“My apologies, but…what?” You asked, confused. You had never heard of such a thing. Surely he couldn’t possibly mean what you thought he meant…?

“We must ensure that none other than the na-Baron have had you, milady.” The man explained. You noticed he sported a gray sash around his middle, and you assumed it was some sort of uniform. “It must be guaranteed that you are untouched, and that the heir you provide will be the na-Baron’s and no one else’s.”

You felt your face grow warm with anger and embarrassment. “Is my word not enough?”

“I’m afraid this is tradition, milady.” He stared at you with intense, beady eyes. “The na-Baron was eager to honor the customs of your House. You do not want him to think you are refusing those of House Harkonnen, do you?”

No, you did not. The last thing you wanted was to anger Feyd-Rautha and potentially drive your future husband even further away from you. You did not want to seem rude, nor did you want to cause a fuss…and you had been examined by doctors before, though perhaps not for this exact reason. You could withstand a few moments of awkward discomfort, you reasoned, if it meant avoiding an unhappy marriage.

“You do not have any instruments,” you noted.

The doctor smiled, revealing the black teeth of the Harkonnens. “Medical instruments are not necessary for this, milady. Please, move to the bed so that I may examine you.”

You rose from your place at the simple table in the center of the room, abandoning your half-eaten breakfast. As you turned, you felt the doctor’s eyes watching you a chill prickled the back of your neck. You needed to relax, you told yourself; if you were expected to produce an heir, there would be many more invasive check ups far stranger than this. You had seen your mother pregnant with your younger siblings, and had heard her speaking with the midwives and Bene Gesserit woman who stalked the halls of the palace back home. Perhaps this was how you could ease yourself into all of that.

When you turned to face the doctor once more, you were relieved to see him standing just as you had left him. His smile unsettled you, but then so did most Harkonnen features, you realized as you sat on the edge of the bed.

“Lay back and relax, milady.” He said, approaching you. “This won’t take but a moment.”

-0-

To your surprise, Feyd-Rautha joined you for lunch that day. A servant had been sent ahead to inform you that the na-Baron would be arriving to your chambers shortly, but when he did, you insisted on eating elsewhere. The encounter with the doctor had done more than simply unsettle you—it had rattled your nerves, leaving you feeling angry and confused. Though the man was long gone, you had no desire to remain in that room any longer than you absolutely had to, and lunch could not come early enough.

The na-Baron led you to his own chambers and food was served for you there, at a well-sized table just as austere as the rest of the building’s furniture and decor. He watched as you picked at your food, pushing it around on your plate but hardly eating any, and he took the opportunity to attempt conversation.

“We will be wed soon,” he said.

You wanted to roll your eyes. You were in no mood for small talk, but remembered who exactly you were dealing with and stifled a sigh. “Yes, na-Baron, we will.”

He smirked. “I look forward to the consummation, milady.”

You felt bile rising in your throat. The thought of anyone touching you again at the moment made you sick and angry, and you hated him for his people’s customs.

Feyd-Rautha tilted his head as he looked at you. “Do you not?”

“I am sure it will be everything we hope for and more,” you grumbled, looking down at your plate.

“It is unavoidable,” he growled. “We must produce an heir.”

“And we will!” You snapped, glaring up at him. “And you will be happy to hear that your doctor’s examination went as expected, my lord.”

The venom in your words stunned him almost as much as the words themselves. If Feyd weren’t so busy working through what exactly you had just said, he may have been tempted to bend you over that table just to show you how hard you made him, wedding night be damned…but there were other matters at hand now.

“Doctor?” He asked, eye twitching as his brow furrowed in thought.

“Yes, the one who confirmed that I am, in fact, pure,” you spat, voice laced with pure malice now.

You saw what could only be anger bubbling inside of him as he straightened his shoulders. “How exactly was this achieved?”

“By—by the usual means, I presume,” you said, quickly growing afraid of Feyd-Rautha’s infamous temper should it make an appearance. “He…confirmed that I am…that I have never…”

The na-Baron stood suddenly, knocking in the table in his haste. “Describe him to me.”

“I-I don’t know, he was a doctor!” You stammered. “He looked like every other Harkonnen, I don’t know—“

“What did he wear?”

“A-all black, like everyone here…a sash, a gray sash, around his waist, and he had no instruments—“

“What?” Feyd-Rautha roared, fists slamming down onto the table.

You jumped at the sudden outburst, staring in confusion as he stood. "I apologize if I've upset you, I don't understand why you--"

"Come." he hissed, grabbing your arm roughly and hauling you out of your seat.

You shrieked in surprise, stumbling to keep up as he dragged you out of the room and down the corridor. "Na-Baron, what is the meaning of this?!"

You received no answer. Feyd-Rautha was too angry to speak, shoulders hunched and full of violent tension as he stomped down the halls. Servants and Harkonnen nobles alike scattered upon seeing him, and as you twisted your head to look back at them, you saw them whispering and looking after you with pity on their faces.

"Feyd-Rautha, this is absurd!" you protested.

He came to a halt in front of a door. Though the wait for it to slide open only took a few moments, it felt like agony, and you had nowhere to look aside from the na-Baron's heaving form. You had never seen a person so angry before, so utterly enraged that he was practically incoherent. His silence was frightening, as when the door finally opened, you felt relieved...until he grabbed you once more and brought you inside with him.

The room was full of Harkonnen men, and as they looked to the door in surprise, you realized that you had entered some sort of lounge. You recognized their uniforms as military, and at the sight of their na-Baron, they all immediately stood, saluting him and bowing their heads.

"Which one?" Feyd-Rautha hissed, pulling you to stand at his side.

"What?" you asked, still confused by this entire operation.

"Which man?" he asked, voice strained as if he were holding himself back.

As you looked around at the Harkonnens, whose faces were stoic but whose eyes were frightened, you realized what your almost-husband was asking of you. It was difficult to tell them apart--their pale faces blended into one, their uniforms all nearly identical save for subtle distinctions of rank. Then, an idea; the gray sash you remembered, surely the doctor still wore it? If he were there in the room with you, perhaps you could--

Yes.

There he was.

You recognized his face and your lips pressed into a thin line. Feyd-Rautha, whose eyes had been glued to you, watching your every tiny, minute move, noticed the way your eyes lingered. His lip curled into a sneer as he turned to look at the man, whose comrades had all immediately stepped away, leaving him alone and exposed.

"Captain." the na-Baron's voice was dangerous. It was terrifying. You had never heard another human make a sound so guttural, so animalistic, and yet still manage to form it into a recognizable word.

As the man took a panicked step backwards, Feyd-Rautha stalked toward him. Your future husband smoothly pulled a long knife from a hilt on someone's hip as he passed them by, and you could only stare as the captain was brutalized.

You had never seen such agony.

When Feyd-Rautha was finished with him and the room had finally quieted after the screams died out, he stood from the fresh corpse and turned to you, holding a weapon now dripping with dark blood as he faced you.

"For you," he said simply, sincerely, bowing his head yet never breaking eye contact.

You stared. You had no idea how to react upon witnessing such a barbaric act, one that was sure to play out in your nightmares for weeks to come. When you felt panic rising in your chest you forced it down, and mustered all of the courage you possibly could to say, "Thank you, my lord," and bow your head in return.

He seemed satisfied with this as the knife clattered to the floor and he strode forward to you. "Let us leave."

You agreed wholeheartedly, following him and leaving the other soldiers to collect the pieces of their captain, now strewn across the lounge. Feyd-Rautha held your arm once more as he led you down the corridor, though this time, he was far more gentle. Something had been released from within him, his bloodlust sated and his anger quelled for the moment, and as the reality of what you had just witnessed him do crashed down around you, you stumbled to a halt and doubled over.

"Milady?" he asked, confused, before he turned to see you holding a hand over your mouth as you desperately tried not to be sick. His hands gripped your elbows as he faced you, undeterred by your retching. "What is this? He is dead, there is nothing to--"

"You killed him!" you choked out as you gasped for air, the bile in your throat still threatening to come up.

"Yes," he said, head tilted as he looked at you. "Of course I did. For you, as a gift." Then he paused, thinking. "...Was there another? An assistant?"

"No!" you managed to swallow down the last of the bile, throat burning as you grasped your sweat-slick forehead with your palm. "No, there was only him, but--why would you do such a thing?"

Now he was truly bewildered. "Why wouldn't I kill the animal whose hands touched you before mine?"

"Because...I..." you huffed, glaring at him. "What is going on? What is all of this, over a custom of your people? I did not enjoy his examination by any means, but I am doing everything in my power to accept the customs of House Harkonnen with grace and dignity no matter how awful they are and this entire spectacle has now made that very difficult, na-Baron!"

"House Harkonnen does not practice such a thing," he sneered, eyes angry once more.

Your shoulders dropped in horror. "...Excuse me?"

"That man should never have been within a thousand lengths of you."

"...Oh..." the panic had returned, but now, it felt much worse, and your voice sounded impossibly small. You lowered your hand to your lips, chewing your nail in agitation.

"Do you understand?" Feyd-Rautha asked, still holding your elbows.

"...Yes, I'm afraid I do..."

He leaned in, his forehead meeting yours as he still stared at your eyes. You found his to be a deep, dark blue, an abyss that threatened to swallow you up. But right now, you wouldn't mind such a thing, if it meant you could hide away from the world forever.

"No one will every lay a hand on you." he growled. "No one but me."

"...You killed him for me," you whispered.

"I did."

"You avenged me...yet you did not proclaim your reason in front of those other men?"

"I do not need a reason to take a life," he barked a laugh.

You just nodded.

"And I would not humiliate my wife in such a manner." he straightened once more, letting go of your elbows and offering you his arm once more.

"Thank you," you said as you took it and began walking.

"It does not matter to me if you another man has had you before." he said, staring forward. "I know the children you will bear will be mine."

He said it with an arrogance that may have annoyed you had the situation been different. Now, it was a comfort that he had such a big ego.

"That is correct, na-Baron," you said, sighing in relief. At least the whole ordeal was over now, and you doubted anyone would be foolish enough to cross your path now that one man had already been publicly eviscerated.

"Call me Feyd."

"Thank you," you glanced up at him with a small smile. "Thank you, Feyd."

[sp4ceboo]

Atonement: Feyd-Rautha x Reader

A/N: fic i wrote with @triluvial 's lovely idea

tw: 18+, smut but pretty soft, oral (f recieving), so so so so much angst, fluff after tho dw, swearing, hints of sa and pedophilia from the baron, baron is also creepy to reader but not explicitly, u gotta bear with my yapping in the beginning but it gets good i promise, inkpie

wc: 3.9k

headcanons for this universe

When you married Feyd-Rautha, you were warned of many things. His cruelty, both in and out of the bedroom, his bloodlust, his uncontrollable rage, his violence, his complete and utter lack of mercy. They told you he was psychotic, he was a cold blooded murderer, he was insatiable and that you’d be lucky to last a year with him, and yet, they never cautioned you of his sheer, unerring indifference.

Before your marriage, you fancied that he’d be like fire; raging, searing to touch. You went as far as to wish to tame his inferno. Late at night, when you could not sleep and doubt wreathed your thoughts, you also considered that he’d be like ice, like the colour of his piercing eyes, glacial and cold, devoid of anything soft or sweet.

As a child, you saw him fight in the arena. There he blazed with passion, his victor’s smile a cruel curve upon his face, his knife blade stained dark with fresh blood: he was mesmerising. At that time you were beginning to understand that your future had been sold to this violent man, and you resented your parents for it - now you realise that it went deeper than that, that it was rooted in generations of religion, of whisperings of the Bene Gesserit. Still, even then, you found the way he burned intriguing, and you were drawn to him like a moth to a flame.

But you were wrong. He turned out to be neither fire nor ice, just stingingly, dismissively apathetic. His eyes slide right over you when he happens to pass you in the corridors, as if you’re lower than a servant, lower than the rare rats that survive Giedi Prime’s conditions. You suspected your marriage would be painful, wedded to a man such as he was, but you didn’t think it would be this damn lonely.

You wished he hated you.

That way, at least you’d mean something to your husband. At least then vehement, savage emotion would rise within his gaze whenever he looked at you, not that horrible, polarising blankness. You wish you disgusted him, because then he’d at least he’d speak his mind - you had learnt that he spoke with brutal honesty, uncaring of the consequences.

Maybe to him, that’s all you are. A consequence of being high born, of being the na-Baron. You mean nothing to him, and he treats you as such; to him, you are less than the speck of dust on the floor, less than a grain of sand in his beloved arena.

It’s not that you wish for him to dote on you, nor love you or devote himself to you. You just wish he would look you in the eye and feel something; you’d rather him stare at you in revulsion and call you names that you can’t even think up yourself than the dead, lifeless detachment that clouds his face when he sees you in your shared chambers.

Feyd-Rautha has never laid a hand on you in violence; in fact he rarely touches you at all. The last, and only time he kissed you was during the wedding day, and he makes no moves to be in bodily contact with you any more than he has to be. You are obliged to produce an heir from him, yet even in these infrequent encounters it seems as if it is a chore for him - he takes no pleasure in your body nor does he try to pleasure you, and he makes no sound when he takes you, staying as long as it takes for his seed to fill your womb before leaving without a word. On those nights, your thighs tremble as you stumble to the bathroom, only allowing your tears to fall once the shower water is searing on your skin.

During the first month of your marriage, you did everything in your power to please him. You thought maybe you weren’t pretty enough for him, maybe you were not desirable as a wife, so you always smiled at him, made an effort to fill the silence that pervaded the air around him, bringing up topics you knew he would enjoy, like the arena, like his love for knives and duels. To even that he would not reply, rebutting your questions with monosyllables or simply ignoring you. You stopped once he began to leave the room while you were mid sentence.

It is now your fourth month locked in this marriage with an uncaring man, and all you feel is bleak, crushing resignation. Somehow, Feyd-Rautha seems to take more interest in conversing with his brother than you.

You wonder if he has forgotten your name. He addresses you simply as ‘wife’ - that, and nothing more, the title leaving his lips like an accusatory curse, reminding you that if you did not serve a purpose to him, and if decorum did not restrain him, he’d have disposed of you by now, either by slitting your throat or simply abandoning you outside the palace grounds, not even bothering to end you himself.

The palace in question is lonely, but you feel the loneliest when you lay awake at night, shivering on your side of the bed as Feyd-Rautha slumbers to your right. Tears always prick your eyes during those moments, but you stifle them, afraid that you’ll rouse him with your crying; you do not know what you’ve done to garner his mistrust, but many times you’ve glimpsed the knife he keeps beneath his pillow, the cold blade glinting in the moonlight.

Often you wonder if he has a secret lover, and that is why he does not bother with you. You wake up sometimes and he is gone, but soon you realised that he would visit his concubines, especially after he had bred you. You would finish your shower, unable to wash off the feel that you were dirty, you were just an animal, a mindless thing to produce an heir for him, and he would be lounging in the antechambers of your quarters, ignoring your presence with the three harpies wrapped around him, whispering in his ears and caressing his moonlight skin. They accompanied him everywhere he wished, even in public, and to begin with, you felt humiliated that he would so explicitly show that you were not to his satisfaction.

Now, it just makes the solitude even worse.

You find solace in no one. More than once, you have walked in on the servants laughing behind your back, and as it became evident your husband was uninterested in you, they did not hide their mocking. The Baron’s other nephew you hardly saw, and the Baron himself terrified you: there was something in the way that he stared at you, his beady eyes glittering from where they were set deep within his putrid flesh, that made you feel more soiled than even after Feyd-Rautha took you.

So you remain isolated, speaking only when spoken to, drifting through the palace’s wide, dark hallways like a ghoul, a mourning spectre. You can barely remember your life before, just wisps and fleeting flashes of colour that ridicule rather than comfort you.

To Feyd, it is obvious who you are. A spy, commanded by his uncle to report every single one of his doings to you; he cannot slip up once around you, cannot reveal his weaknesses, that he is desperate to be loved, to be seen as someone whose only use is not war. He sees the way his uncle looks at you, hungry for information you do not have because he does not impart it, the way the Baron comments on you and the way you flinch at his words, pretending that you do not report to him.

Feyd is determined in his resolve to give nothing away. His uncle has held power over him since he was young, he refuses to give him even an inch over him now. He still has nightmares of it, which he wakes up from with his pale skin sheened in clammy sweat, clammy like the hands of his uncle.

Sometimes, he sees the tears in your eyes after he fucks you. The first time, he almost stopped, almost asked you where it hurt, but you turned away before he could, acting, always acting; acting when you smile graciously at him, acting when you ask him what his favourite type of blade is, what his favourite form of swordsmanship is. You are good at pretending, but of course you are - his uncle is the Baron, a man who bathes in power. No doubt he would get only the best of spies.

Tonight, you are not where you normally are. At this hour, you are usually asleep, or feigning it in the very least, curled up small on your side of the mattress, yet the bed is still made, the sheets unrumpled and smoothed down as they were this morning. Feyd thinks that maybe he might catch you reporting to his uncle, so he strides out of your shared chambers, pausing in the doorway to listen carefully; as a boy, he hunted in forests that have now been chopped down and industrialised, but he has maintained his keen ears long after the last wild plant on Giedi Prime’s surface choked on the fumes of pollution.

There’s a soft noise, barely perceptible, that echoes down the corridor to his right. Silently, he tracks it down the labyrinthine passages of the palace, servants scurrying out of his warpath, bowing their heads to him - he wonders if they too report to his uncle, if they travel now to his quarters to inform him of his beloved nephew’s whereabouts.

Feyd wishes he and Rabban were brothers first before rivals. Then he could have someone to rely on, someone who he trusted in this palace built on lies.

Pausing, Feyd cocks his head. You huddle in a crumpled heap at the end of the corridor, your knees hugged tightly to your chest, head low as if under a crushing weight. It occurs to him that maybe the Baron was displeased with your efforts to gain information and made it known to you - a pang of pity tugs at him, for he knows what his uncle’s wrath is like. At least you have been spared from the sole thing worse than that - the Baron’s thirst.

‘What are you doing, wife?’

Your head snaps up, Feyd-Rautha’s unfeeling voice kindling a rare burst of temper from you. Is it not evident to him what you are doing? Or is he just too blind to see the tears streaking down your cheeks? Your words are injected with venom when you speak, and you hope that it stings him for leaving you alone in this cold, dark place.

‘So now I am of concern to you?’

Feyd is taken aback by the indignant arch of your brows, the resentment displayed in your eyes. It takes him a moment to register the harshness lacing your voice - you have never addressed him in this way - and another to digest your words. There’s a bleakness in your wet, tear stained face as you stare up at him, and shock too, as if you did not expect yourself to speak against him this way.

Something clicks into place.

Feyd recognises that look in your eyes. He recognises it, because he’s seen it in the mirror a hundred times before; haunted, harrowed, lonely. He remembers nights when he trembled beneath the cold sheets of his bed, when he was small enough that he felt like he was drowning in the black satin, his eyes wide as the fabric seemed to wend around his limbs, tying him there as he lay fearful of everyone, fearful that his uncle would summon him. Even young, he was so terribly aware of not knowing who he could trust and who would turn to the Baron, bearing information like knives to split open his childish skin and spill his guts on the freezing stone floor.

It broke him. He is barely a shell of a sentient being, repressed emotions wreathing like ghosts around his frame, his eyes hollow, his heart decaying. In his fear, he was blinded, and he pushed you to the place where he had been all those years ago, so terribly, terribly alone - you are stronger than him, for lasting this long.

Sharp, plunging, dread sinks in his stomach, weighs down his soul; he has done unspeakable things to you, treated you like a dog, like a whore - worse. How can you look at him without hatred in your eyes, spite?

Bile rises in his throat, his heart seized by a dark, burning anger. He has done this to you, he has slashed your skin and left you bleeding, and yet all you did was try to please him. In an effort to save himself, he trampled you under foot; in order to keep you out, he left you surrounded by shadows. Feyd has never hated himself so much, has never despised who he has become with this much furor.

Slowly, he crouches before you. Eyes wide, you shrink away, misreading the direction of his rage, flinching when he reaches out a hand. Pressing your back against the wall behind you, you turn your head away from him, fear causing tears to spill down your cheeks: he sees the way you will the stone to swallow you up, knows the feeling.

‘Please don’t hurt me,’ you choke out, hands trembling uncontrollably.

Something deep within Feyd’s soul withers and dies at your words. Forcing his jaw to unclench, his hands to release the fists they held, he shoves down his anger. The fury is for later, for when he has made things right - for now it is you that is his priority. Too late, a voice whispers in his ears, too late, too late, too late -

Gods, he deserves to burn at the fucking stake for this. He deserves eternal hell for this, he deserves worse. He is a fool: a blind, blundering fool, stuffed to the brim with paranoia and cynicism.

He sucks in a breath. ‘I will not hurt you. You have my word, whatever it is worth to you. I - I have made an irredeemable mistake, I - ’

After his first sentence, you have not heard him. Tears of relief soak your face, and you whisper needless apologies for them; it is an arrow through his heart that you fear him so - yet the pain is where it is due, justifiable for the way he has shamed you, belittled you.

‘May I - may I touch you, my wife?’

You do not know why you nod in reply of your husband’s strange request, but the moment you do, strong arms pull you into a solid chest, and a sob leaves you - he is so warm, warm enough to banish the seeping cold embedded in your bones, warm enough to let your sorrow flow anew, soaking his shirt as your hands bunch in its fabric, so that if he is cruel enough to leave you here, at least he will have to fight to do so. You have not been held in a long time.

Each of your shuddering sobs is a knife blade twisting in Feyd’s spirit. He lets the pain wash over him, clings to the way you burrow into his arms, a kind creature in the embrace of a monster. At one point, in the throes of your crying, you beat at his chest, telling him that you hate him, and he takes it with a bowed head, stroking your hair and holding you tighter once you exhaust yourself; this is only a fraction of his atonement.

You fall asleep in his arms. He carries you back to your quarters, and only once the door is closed behind him does he let his tears mingle with yours. Keeping you cradled to his chest like a child, he pours a glass of water for you to drink in the morning, knowing you will be dehydrated; he sets it on your bedside table before laying you down on the mattress.

You don’t let go of him, even in your sleep. His heart clenches, tight in his chest, and he drops a kiss in your hair before lying down beside you.

He believes he will love you, if you will let him.

Consciousness leaks slowly into your mind, and you blink, squinting through the beam of light that filters in through the curtains. From your months spent here, you’ve realised that Giedi Prime’s atmosphere is normally churned up with violent storms and choked with pollution, so this ray of sun that falls against your pillow, warming your face is far from unwanted - nor is the pale forearm tucked around your waist, firmly so, but not trapping you either.

Your husband’s chest fits snugly against your back, his breath warm and steady against your skin; his fingers splay out across your stomach, gentle, communicating so many things that were left unsaid. Vaguely, you remember falling asleep, nestled against his chest, tears drying on your cheeks.

When you roll over, you’re unsurprised that he’s already awake. With blue eyes softened by the sunlight, he regards you, fingers settled at the small of your waist. Something clouds his gaze, and he shifts, propping himself up on his elbows.

‘I owe you an explanation.’

You wait silently, unperturbed by the way he clenches his jaw. He vowed to you last night that he would not hurt you, and you trust that. Wordlessly, his lips open, then close, and you patiently watch him, far too well acquainted with how this man struggles to let down his guard - even now, you cannot read the twisting of his features, the way his eyes squint as he looks at you.

‘I - I thought you were a spy sent by my uncle,’ he finally confesses. ‘My uncle… when I was younger, he,’

Reaching out, you cup his jaw in your hand, running your thumb along his cheekbone until he relaxes. You see the battle in his eyes, to let go, to tell you the knowledge that he thinks you deserve, but you see with it the years of hurt, of solitude. Something hopeful, something beautiful blossoms within you - the realisation that this wounded beast before you is someone that you could grow to love; you want him to bare his scars to you, those that are long healed and those that still seep with blood.

‘All in good time, Feyd,’ you assure him quietly.

He sighs, touches his lips against your palm. ‘I am sorry, my wife.’

Slipping your hand down to grip his shoulder, you lean closer towards him so you can kiss him. An anguished sound leaves him, and you see clearly how he realises that he has wronged you, how it pains him, and yet how the taste of you awakens something tender within him - you marvel at it, that it has survived, buried within him for so long. Perhaps he will let you love him.

Feyd is neither forward nor insatiable in the way he kisses you. In fact, he pulls away first, moving to get up from the bed despite the way your hands grip his shoulders, and you almost doubt that he wants you before you glimpse the longing in his eyes that lingers before he pushes it down. You wonder if this man knows how to make love or if he just knows how to fuck, you wonder if he feels the same molten feeling in his stomach that you feel and that is why his movements are tinged with nerves as he gently escapes your grasp. It is clear to you: he does not want to scare you.

‘Must you go?’ You ask, tugging at his fingers.

He tilts his head. ‘I don’t know if you want me here, after what I have inflicted upon you.’

A streak of bravery takes ahold of you. ‘Please, Feyd, I want you.’

You delight at the fire that ignites in his eyes upon your words. He wastes no time in returning to your side, dropping a sweet tasting kiss to your lips before taking your chin in his hand, eyes searching yours as he sits between your thighs.

‘Tell me if you want to stop,’ he says. ‘Yes?’

‘Yes,’ you echo, blood heating your cheeks.

Feyd kisses you again, giving you time to rescind your reply if you want, but you just tug at the hem of his shirt, drinking in his sculpted chest when he pulls the black cloth over his head. Delicately, he trails his lips down your skin as he undresses you, his broad hands warm where they encircle your waist, holding you flush to him as his calloused palms explore your body, skimming over your spine and caressing your breasts before settling on your thighs and pulling them open.

You’re terribly aware of how wet you are when his eyes settle on your pussy. Instinctively, your knees tip inwards, your face growing hot at the hunger in his gaze, but his broad shoulders block your legs from closing, followed closely by his hands which gently push them back open. He smiles at the blush high on your cheeks, rubbing his thumb over your ankle in order to put you at ease.

The sound you make when he pushes his fingers into your cunt and curls them almost makes Feyd moan. You tremble for him, bashful, and he can feel himself rock hard against the mattress, aching for the tight clamp of your velvet walls. He wants to bury himself between your thighs, and so he does, your sweet slick exquisite on his tongue - he presses kisses like butterflies to your thighs, your hips, worshipping you as his fingers pump in and out of you to the same pace as your heaving chest.

You look beautiful, gilded by the sunlight, lower lip trapped between your teeth, but he doesn’t miss the way you grip the sheets with one hand, the other clapped over your mouth, panting as he pleases you. Stroking your thigh, he pauses, licking your slick off his lips.

‘Let me hear you,’ he bids.

You blush again but obey him, tremors wracking your body as he sucks on your clit, laving his tongue over it until you throw your head back, eyes rolling as you come, your honeyed moans and hot release exquisite upon his senses. He wants more, needs more of the taste of you, but you tug at his shoulders, whining for his cock, and he’d rather die than deny you.

The way you say his name when he buries himself inside you sets his soul on fire. You look beautiful beneath him, shaking and whimpering from the hot pulse of his length, clawing at his shoulders until he wears red marks that he’s proud to bear, moaning into his mouth when he kisses you. It seems you cannot get enough of him, and Feyd is more than fine with that because he finds himself addicted to the feel of you under his hands, begging him for more.

Feyd remains entranced long after he comes inside you, with you, your cunt spasming around him. You draw close to him, intertwining your legs with his as he kisses your face, your neck, your chest, making sure he has not hurt you, making sure you are sated. Curling your fingers under his jaw, stopping him, you look him in the eye and smile before kissing him, and he finds himself mesmerised again by you.

He is certain you will let him love you. He is yours.

[diidona]

AUSTIN BUTLER Dune (2024) • Behind the scenes dir. Denis Villeneuve

[seresinhangmanjake]

Don't Touch What’s His

Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x reader

Summary: Feyd's harpies attack you while you're both asleep in his bed and he gets real mad.

Notes/Warnings: mention of blood and mutilation, inflicted wounds, and possessiveness. Related to the fic titled His, but this can be read alone. Typos (just being real)

Words: 1100

Feyd-Rautha Masterlist

You’re screaming for him before you’re even fully awake, shrieking his name before you can begin to grasp what’s happening to you. All you know is that you’re no longer warm, no longer safe as you’re yanked from his arms and dragged to the bottom edge of the bed. Claws are digging into your calf as primal grumbles and growls and the distinct sound of lips smacking in anticipation reach your ears. Your body is being pulled further and further away, and no pawing at the sheets helps to keep you on the mattress.

Another plea for him is on the tip of your tongue, but then a hand wraps around your arm, engaging in a tug-of-war with whatever monster has a hold on you. Scrapes make lines down your leg as you dig your heels into the bed and back yourself away from the clawed being. You take a few deep breaths and blink, your eyes adjusting to the darkness.

“I told you she’s off limits!” Feyd shouts in a terrifying tone. A tone most commonly reserved for those who inconvenience him: servants and prisoners and his brother. It’s not his low timbre; it’s much more powerful. So powerful that you half-expect a crack to split open the floor.

You blink again and crane your neck to peer over the foot of the bed at who he scolds. Feyd’s harpies are on their hands and knees, staring a hole into your head. It’s a daring choice. When Feyd speaks, those around must be attentive with eyes and ears, but the harpies don’t so much as glance in his direction. They’re here for you, they want you, and clearly nothing else.

“But she looks so yummy,” one of them says, a pout forming on her lips.

“And she smells even better,” the second adds. Her tongue swipes over a sharpened fang.

All three of them begin to crawl across the floor until they’re at your side of the bed. Feyd’s fingers tighten around your arm, his eyes narrowing, and you lean back against his chest just in case they get the idea to lunge at you.

“We won’t eat very much of her,” the third purrs as her hand slithers over the silky sheets, inching toward your body. “Just a few little bites. Plenty left over for our lord na-baron to enjoy.”

When her pointed nails graze your ankle, Feyd leans around you, grabs her wrist, and sharply twists until there's a snap. She yelps. Your body jolts. Tears build in the corners of her eyes. Your jaw drops.

Immediately, they appear to sober up. Their hunger, if still there, doesn’t lust for you so intensely now that fear has taken over.

“You will not sink your filthy fangs into her,” Feyd spits, baring his teeth. “She’s mine. Her flesh, her blood, all of her—mine.” The other two harpies shrink and skitter away from their injured sister. “If I wanted to share, I would have.”

Feyd releases his harpy. She cradles her broken wrist, whimpers emitting from her throat as she scoots back to join the others. They feel safer in a pack. Though you don’t think that will aid them in this case.

“W-We just thought she wouldn’t matter to you,” one of them mutters, her chin tucked to her chest. “We thought you could find another plaything.”

Feyd’s face darkens. The icy blue of his glare wavers under the force of a burning red. As he moves to stand, he jerks you to his side of the bed, separating you from the beastly women by a few more feet.

“What did you just say to me?” he grits out, rounding the mattress and stopping in front of them.

The harpies glance at each other in panic before looking back at their master. “W-We didn't mean–”

“It appears I’ve treated you too well,” he says decisively. “If you’re bold enough to defy my orders, then perhaps you need to be reminded of your place.”

You gulp. You’ve heard that tone. You’ve heard those words. But you have a feeling Feyd’s threats toward his harpies are not as empty as the ones he throws at you, and it makes your stomach squeeze.

Your presence in Giedi Prime’s fortress being the indirect cause of their harm is nothing less than unjust. It’s not their fault their master brought fresh meat home. They cannot control what they are, and Feyd routinely encourages their behavior, excluding only you from the list of bodies they are allowed to feast upon. If anything, this is his fault.

“Get up!” he shouts, and they scramble to their feet.

You rise up on your knees as he turns and yanks open the bedroom door. “Feyd, wait, you don’t have to–”

“Stay!” he snaps, pointing a finger at you.

Your mouth snaps shut and you sit, watching as his harpies obediently follow him out the door. Within the minute, you hear the screams and squeals of pain, and you wince, pressing your hands over your ears.

You don’t know how long you stay in that position. It’s Feyd’s touch that jolts you back into the present.

You look up.

Red is speckled across his torso. You feel a slickness on your face from where he is cupping your cheek, and when he pulls his hand away, you notice the rivers of blood running through the spaces between his fingers.

Without a word, Feyd pushes you down onto the bed, rearranges the covers so they drape appropriately across your body, and crawls under the sheets to settle in beside you.

“What did you do to them?” you ask.

His eyes are already closed by the time the question fully leaves your lips. He blows out a heavy breath through his nose and turns on his side to wrap his arm around your waist. “Removed a few fingers,” he says. “Now go back to sleep.”

“But–”

“Go. To. Sleep,” he grumbles in demand. “Unless you’d rather I change my mind and toss you into their feeding pit…”

It's one of those empty threats, but you don’t press him further. Not for tonight. Tonight he is tired and grumpy and nothing about you pushing him will do you any good. So instead, you allow him to do as he wants. And what he wants is to tuck your head under his chin, eliminate all space between you, and hold you in a grip that is just short of suffocating.

[perlelune]

Young God | Feyd-Rautha

The mercy you show towards an enemy in the aftermath of battle yields tragic consequences for you and your people.

Warnings: NON-CON, Fremen!Reader, Kynes!Reader, Kidnapping, Unrequited Love, Mentions of cannibalism, Knife Play, Masochism

This is a dark story. Heed warnings before reading under the cut.

The aftermath of battle is often the same ritual. Corpses are taken away to scavenge for bounty and salvage the water in their bodies. Moisture is too precious, too rare in the air and the dry desert sand covering your home world to be wasted. Harkonnen foot soldiers especially. No sympathy is spared for the cruel beasts who slaughter your fellow fremen, ravage your land, and bleed your beloved home planet Arrakis of its most valuable resource. The Spice. 

Today is one of these days. After fending off another attack by the Harkonnen army, your entire tribe is sifting through the desert fields. The proud white-skinned soldiers weren’t expecting the swarm of Fremen that unleashed upon them. Thankfully Muad'Dib had a vision of the attack and managed to convince enough of your people to raise their blades in unison to stand against their oppressors. While you balk at violence, preferring to stay back and sink into your role as a healer, you still wish to offer assistance in cleaning up the battlefield and checking for any potential injuries. You were a little shocked when you arrived and were struck with the realization that there is so little for you to do, the number advantage having been so overwhelming.

Still, you find a few warriors that require medical attention. Their injuries are deeper than you expect. Apparently one of the Harkonnen soldiers wouldn’t let himself be slain, unleashing a storm of fury all on his own and taking several down with him. You gingerly finish dressing your last wound, lifting your head as you notice your cousin heading north. 

Wiping the blood on your hands with a rag, you get to your feet.

“Chani, where are you going?” you inquire.

She stares ahead, crysknife in hand, determined.

“Some may have survived and slipped away from us. We’re checking the caves nearby.”

You give a nod and follow after her. “I’ll come with you.”

While your voice didn’t waver earlier, your stomach is in knots as you join the search. You and Chani split up. She points in a direction and you acquiesce, rushing the opposite way. You sneak underground, climbing down a row of steep, slippery rocks before you find a small cave.

You practically have to crawl the rest of the way inside, the lichen-draped overhang almost too bent and crooked for you to advance any further. It’s no wonder no one thought to check this place. It’s hard to imagine any wounded Harkonnen soldier gathering the strength to hide in such a place.

You’re forced to swallow your words however when you find the outline of a pale form lying across the cave floor. 

Your jaw drops. You inch closer to the corpse, already planning on calling another Fremen to help you extract the water from the body.

But the man’s chest lifts, his mouth shuddering ever-so-slightly.

Tamping down your fear, you hunker down and inspect his armor. Your brows knit. A long, deep jagged cut slashes his side. The kind of deadly injury that makes you wonder how the man is still breathing, as it’s impossible no internal organs haven't at least been nicked. 

Yet, somehow he is, still breathing that is.

Though you gather not for long based on the way blood gushes from the wound. 

You hear your name called from outside the cave. Pulse soaring, you climb your way out of the concealed shelter with haste. 

You’re faced with Chani’s questioning stare. She must be done with her own search. You note the tinge of crimson on the tip of her blade. Your insides wrench. 

The lie flows from your tongue with frightening ease.

“I already checked that one. It’s empty.”

She nods and walks away. You wait for her to be at a safe distance to return inside the cave.

As your slow, fearful steps bring you closer to the wounded man, your mind rages, at war with itself.

You are of two worlds. Daughter of the fallen Liet-Kynes, imperial planetologist, and a member of the Sietch Tabr. The Harkonnen are your people’s ancestral enemies. Oppressors who annihilate whoever stands between them and their unquenchable thirst for more wealth and power.

They are monsters. There is only one rational thing to do when one is faced with one of the pale-skinned warriors. Only one thing that is right to do.

You unsheathe the crysknife at your thigh from its scabbard. The blade is shimmery and new. So perfectly sharp. For you have never used it. Not even once.

You approach his unmoving form and lift the blade high in the air.

The crysknife in your hands quivers above his chest. It’d be so easy to end it. So quick. Over within a few minutes. You’ve seen countless members of your sietch do it, not a sliver of hesitation in their smooth, practiced motions. Some even enjoy it, reveling in seeing that spark wither in their enemies’ eyes. 

For a moment, you let yourself wonder, picture yourself snugly gripping the blade and driving it through the Harkonnen’s alabaster throat. The watery coughs he’d let out. The blood seeping from his neck and pooling around him. The light in his onyx orbs flickering before going out.

It should satisfy you. After all the evils they’ve inflicted upon your people, upon your planet, the prospect of retribution should fill you with immeasurable joy. 

Yet it doesn’t. Chest heaving, you slowly lower the weapon until it slips out of your hands, its clattering echoing in the cave.

Your shoulders sag as you unleash a tremulous breath, one you didn’t notice was even caged inside your lungs.

An unyielding truth swaddles you as you watch your pale-skinned enemy draw feeble, dwindling breaths. You can’t take a life. You are a healer, through and through.

You gasp when you suddenly feel the cold bite of metal against your throat.

Your eyes widen. The Harkonnen is awake, heavy, wheezing breaths bursting from his chest as he presses the blade against your neck.

“I-If you kill me, you will not survive,” you stammer, your chest clenching in fear. 

He shocks you by flipping the blade and handing it to you.

“Then give me a warrior’s death,” he says, his gaze unwavering. You study him. He looks worse than before. What he just did must have taken his last bit of strength. 

Steadying your hammering heart, you glower at him.

“The glory you seek isn’t in a dank cave, Harkonnen.”

As soon as he collapses over the cold, hard stones, you get to work. First, you check his pulse. Though it’s faint, you find a steady heartbeat. He must be quite strong, you surmise. You’ve never seen anyone survive this long with an injury this deep. Logically, he should be dead. 

But he isn’t. So while you shouldn’t feel this way, every fiber of your being craves to pull him from the brink. 

You peel the layers of his armor off him. Heat nestles inside your cheeks as your gaze roams over the hard, defined planes of his muscular form. You shake off the sensation, reminding yourself that you can’t proceed unless you have complete access to the wound and need to assess for other potential injuries.

You reach for your medpak and pouch. You use a mix of wound sealant and medicinal herbs to curb the bleeding. You then clean the wound with antiseptic and press onto it firmly. Eventually, it stops. Once the bleeding is under control, you pull out a needle and thread from your pouch and begin sewing the wound. Every stitch is nice and neat, so tight that you know he will barely scar. You squint as you work, the dim lighting of the cave making you miss the right spot in his skin a few times. You keep a cool head the entire time, simply starting over whenever necessary.

After the wound is sealed, you set up a hypovial with a plasma bag. Finding the bulging vein in his arm isn’t too hard. It’s quite easy in fact, as every part of him appears carved from stone. You slip a dash of spice melange in the IV. A potent cinnamon smell fills the air. Just the right amount to keep him awake. Now that his life isn’t on the line anymore, his peculiar body chemistry should do the rest and recover.

You unleash a deep breath and wipe the sweat doting your forehead. You sag against the cave wall.

Your eyes drift to the night sky, visible through a small opening in the overhang.

For the first time since you snuck inside the cave, the tension woven through your limbs comes loose.

Nights on Arrakis are a thing of beauty. You are willing to bet there are no more beautiful skies in the entire galaxy. None so clear and vast and with stars twinkling this bright. Mother used to say the same thing, that the boundless empyreans of Arrakis were the most beautiful sight she ever laid eyes upon. And as an imperial envoy, your mother traveled far across the known universe. So she must have been right.

You cast one last glance at the Harkonnen warrior. He’s stable. Or stable enough at least. 

It’s time for you to return to your sietch before too many questions are asked.

“You were gone a while,” your cousin blurts out when you return to your sietch. You weigh her tone. There is no suspicion laced in it, just curiosity.

“I was just making sure we didn’t forget any of them,” you casually reply.

Chani heaves out a deep sigh. “You don’t have to. You have no heart for killing, cousin.” She turns her focus to the rest of your tribe. “We need you here, tending to our wounded. It’s where you shine best.”

You nod in acknowledgement. No one in the sietch ever expected you to fight but you often wish that you could do more. You think of your mother’s untimely death, of the way Fremen laid down their lives today. Your heart sinks. If anyone learned of what you did, you would be exiled. Rightfully so. Your eyes wander to your cousin, now besides Paul Atreides. Longing gazes lock and fingers twine before they disappear into their shared tent. You look away.

You hope one day that twisting inside your chest whenever you see them will cease. You are happy for them; you truly are. Nevermind that you felt a pull towards the heir of House Atreides from the moment you met him, that you felt it was returned when his gaze rested upon you. That all of it vanished the moment his eyes crossed Chani’s.

A seer from your tribe foretold that a woman in your family would have a great destiny, one that will change the fate of worlds. You now understand, that woman is Chani, and she and Paul aren’t just destined to one another. They are fated.

And who are you to stand in the way of fate?

“You must be insane, girl,” the Harkonnen soldier scoffs as you remove the needle in his arm. Since he appears to have regained some color…or whatever consists of “color” for a Harkonnen, you elected to remove the plasma bag this morning.

A sliver of shame flutters through you that you were almost relieved to find him alive. You saved a life. Perhaps not the most worthy one, but a life nonetheless.

“Striking an enemy while he’s down isn’t brave,” you reply with nonchalance.

A crooked smirk cants his plump lips, baring a hint of the black teeth underneath.

“Insane and stupid then,” he sneers, the gristly echo of his voice resonating in the cave.

Ignoring the way his comment chafes you, you retrieve the little vials you packed this morning.

“Drink that.” He sits up, humming low in his throat with the movement when you’d expect him to wince or groan at the pain. It’s almost like he’s enjoying the pain he surely must be experiencing, but you discard that thought, because it’s ludicrous. What kind of person enjoys pain? “It’s water.” He studies you, making no move to grab the water. You fidget, unnerved that you can’t read his expression, his lack of eyebrows making it even more difficult. “I could only steal a little from the deathstill. It’s all I could get before anyone could see me.”

You briefly considered trading your mother’s water rings, the ones you inherited upon her death. The symbol of her standing and wealth within the Sietch Tabr.

Though while you may have saved your enemy, you want to hold on to that piece of her for as long as you can.

“I also have some food.” You rummage through your pouch to pull out dried fruits, slices of meats, bread and spice honey. It’s the best you could gather on short notice without drawing suspicion.

His dark gaze flicks over you as he taunts, “Perhaps I shall eat you. You look far more appetizing than…whatever this is.” You shudder, acutely aware that while cannibalism isn’t widespread amongst the Harkonnen…it’s also not unheard of. 

He snickers at your expression. “Do not fret, desert rose.” His gravelly voice drips with suggestion as he licks his lips. A chill runs through you as his black tongue and teeth are bared to you. “I’m not quite that hungry…yet.”

Your shift, discomfort slithering through you. There is something profoundly unsettling about the Harkonnen, even more so than a typical one. The blood leaking through the bandage draws your gaze.

“I should dress your wound and redo the stitching,” you offer, clearing your throat.

When your hand stretches towards his wound, he growls at you.

Your heart leaps and you retreat your hand.

“Please,” you insist. “You’re bleeding.”

When he doesn’t make another threatening sound, you take that as your cue. You quickly gather your supplies and approach him. The drumming of your heart inside your ears is a clamor, but you pretend it isn’t there, removing the bandage and driving the needle through his wound to sew it shut again. He doesn’t flinch, showing no hint of even feeling the needle. His sizzling scrutiny sears through your flesh, almost causing your usually steady hands to quake. You sharpen your focus, remembering your grandmother’s teachings. Steady heart, steady hands.

He tilts his head, dark gaze trained on you. “I threaten to eat you and you tend to me still. What a peculiar creature you are, desert rose.”

The days fly by in a strange haze, your days spent preparing for the new Reverend Mother while you sporadically check on the stranger. He recovers faster than you expect, even without you needing to use the spice melange again. Considering he was at death’s door when you found him, you can’t help but be a little amazed.

You sense the time to go your separate ways is near. You have done a lot, likely more than you should. The alabaster-skinned warrior is well enough to roam the desert and find his way back to his people through his own means. You brought him supplies, food and a stillsuit. Whatever befalls him will be up to fate and his own wits. You don’t plan on returning after tonight.

“You’re looking better,” you note, checking his wound for the last time. You leave the bandage for good measure even if it’s clear he doesn’t need it anymore, the wound having begun to fade since you removed his stitches yesterday.

He pins you with that unsettling stare once more.

“That song you sang…” he rumbles.

“A song?” Your head tilts as you comb through your memories. It comes back to you. You sometimes hum it to yourself. It calms you down. You didn’t even realize you’d done it in his presence. “Ah, that song.” You shrug, a small smile sneaking onto your lips. “It’s just a lullaby my grandmother used to sing to me before she passed, to teach children about the Shai-Hulud.”

He looks at you in what you believe to be confusion at the name, though you can only assume.

“Your people call them… sandworms,” you explain. “They are sacred and should be revered.”

Silence hangs between you and the Harkonnen. His deep raspy voice shatters it after some time.

“Songs…I had a blade in my hands from the moment I could walk.”

“I’m sorry,” you blurt out, unsure what else to say. He doesn’t seem sad, more reflective, but it seems you should say something. “Do you…Do you ever think of what your life would be like if you weren’t Harkonnen?” When he looks at you blankly, a nervous laugh peals from your lips. “I’m sorry. That was a silly question.”

Your crysknife materializes in his hands from behind his back. Your blood runs cold as you pat your thigh. You don’t remember ever leaving it around him.

“My older brother...He took me from our parents when I was a baby,” he utters, sounding detached, almost as if he were recounting someone else’s life. “My uncle raised me. I don’t remember my father. And my mother…” His lightless gaze slams into yours as he smiles, exposing his glistening, black teeth. “I killed that whimpering, meddling bitch.”

Your breath snags in your throat. Perhaps…you let yourself get too comfortable around the Harkonnen. The crude reminder of who he is, who they all are, yanks you back to reality.

You bolt to your feet, coaxing a tremulous smile onto your face.

“It’s getting late. I should return home before the sandstorms grow too strong.”

As you prepare to leave, the muffled pitter-patter of footsteps above you freezes you in your tracks. Your eyes bulge. Dread sinks within you as you realize someone’s right above you.

Before a single sound can make its way past your lips, the Harkonnen’s large hand envelops your mouth. He pulls you flush against his bare chest as he whispers into your ear, “Quiet.”

His muscles go taut against you. You catch him twirling the blade with smooth precision, clearly ready to fight if need be. You hold your breath, bridling your stuttering heartbeats.

Two men in full Harkonnen livery leap inside the cave. Panic rushes through you.

However, instead of a fight breaking out, relief fills the soldier’s faces as they see him. 

“Na-baron. We received your beacon.”

Na-Baron…The air is knocked from your lungs. The title isn’t that common amidst the known universe. In fact, it’s quite unique and you only ever heard of one man from one specific house using it. Na-baron Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen, the heir-designate to Baron Vladmir Harkonnen. 

He is a monster, a ruthless killer…and you nursed him back to health. Allowed him to get well enough to hurt, maim and kill as he pleases. The cave seems to twirl off its axis around you.

Perhaps he was right that night. You might be an insane idiot.

You feel the subtle lift of his lips against your scalp.

“Right. Did I forget to mention my name?” he taunts, as if he could read every thought zooming across your head. Giving you no time to even try to run or fight him off, the na-Baron slams your head against a nearby wall.

Pain explodes inside your skull. Your vision dims as you grow too weak to stand, your knees buckling beneath you. You fall into his arms and he holds you against him. He strokes the side of your face, a fire burning in his onyx orbs. Consciousness slips from you, his last words reverberating inside your ears.

“You and I are going home to Giedi Prime, my desert rose.”

You awake startled, jarred by the softness of the sheets and the largeness of the bed around you. This is nothing like the cot you used to sleep on in the desert. You leap from the bed, clutching your face and hugging your frame, stunned to note you are without your stillsuit and face mask.

Instead, you are wearing a sheer white tunic that hugs your curves in a way that leaves very little to the imagination. The outfit is unlike you, impractical in every way. Your pulse escalates.

You rush to rise and nearly crash down on the bed again. 

Your forehead creases.

You wobble around, struck by the difference in gravitational pull, humidity and atmospheric pressure. Every breath you take exerts you, bearing heavily on your lungs.

Your head spins as you glance at the unfamiliar room. Every single detail of it is cold, somber, opulent.

Horror twists your insides.

You’re not on Arrakis anymore.

“You’re in the Harkonnen keep, darling.” 

The gravelly voice erupting at your back has you whirl around. A half-exposed Feyd-Rautha fills your sight, his carved alabaster muscles and bald head shimmering silver in the low light.

You swallow hard, fighting to keep yourself breathing normally in the brand new air.

“The Harkonnen Keep on…”

“Giedi Prime, yes,” Feyd-Rautha finishes.

While you understood it on your own, having it uttered out loud sends you in a renewed state of alarm. You are away from your family, your friends, your home. You are alone on a foreign planet. A hostile, enemy planet.

“In secluded apartments away from my other concubines,” he further informs. A shadow of mirth lurks in his gaze. “They’re quite the jealous kind. They may even try to take a bite out of you if they learn of your existence…” He leers at your shivering frame, making no effort to hide his lust, the evidence already bulging in his pants. “Though I don’t think I could entirely blame them.”

He inches closer to you. “How does the weight of a real planet feel?” he asks, a twisted excitement swaying in his dark orbs. “Is it crushing your bones? Is every cell in your body screaming in pain, my desert rose?” He grips your chin, studying you oddly, almost as if he wishes he could absorb every bit of your agony and discomfort.

You glare up at him, your insides white hot with rage.

“H-How could you do this? I saved you.”

He frames your chin, squeezing tightly. “Oh darling, you should have killed me…” A squeak spills from your throat as he drags his tongue across the side of your quivering cheek. His lips brush over your earshell as he mumbles under his breath. “Because there’s nowhere in the galaxy you will ever be able to hide from me now.”

“I belong in Arrakis with my people. You have to let me go,” you plead. 

You search his impassive face, scouring for an errant ounce of humanity. The emptiness you find has tears rushing to your eyes. You mourn the tragic loss of moisture, willing yourself to stop crying. Ever since you were young, you were taught never to waste your precious water...especially on something as trivial, as painfully unnecessary as tears.

...But you can't quell your weeping.

He tilts his head.

“You belong with me…No, to me, desert rose. In my arms, screaming as I ruin that pretty cunt of yours with my cock.”

Fear floods your entire being. Your eyes scan the room. A faint spark of hope blooms inside you as you spot a long, sharp knife on a stone table nearby.

Pushing past the queasiness you experience every time you move on the unfamiliar planet, you race across the room and grab the knife.

You point it at him. Instead of cowering, Feyd-Rautha opens his arms, smirking.

“Do it,” he urges, making no effort to protect himself from the sharp blade in your hand, inviting you to strike him as his tongue darts across his lips.

His uncanny anticipation coats the air. Confusion fills you.

“I will,” you say, trying to appear braver than you feel. Still, the blade quakes in your hand.

“Please. I beg of you,” he purrs, gliding towards you. As he watches you hesitate, he cruelly reminds you, “You will never go home, never see your beloved planet again. In fact,...” He hums, his eyes lighting up as if a wonderful idea just occurred to him. “I think I might slaughter some of your family and friends just for sport.”

A wave of wrath surges through you. Bereft a thought behind it, your hand slashes across his chest, a small cut forming there. Droplets of blood so dark it appears black drip down onto his alabaster flesh. 

“More…” he rasps, pleasure leaking from his gravelly voice.

The sight of the bleeding wound rattles you, causing you to retreat.

But he doesn’t let you remove the blade, his fingers cinching around your wrist and keeping its sharp tip over his bulging pec. You sob as he forces you to drag the blade across his chest, a blissful expression spreading across his features. A long dark cut oozing dark red blood decorates his body now, going all the way to his defined abs.

Terror and confusion tangle within you. You stagger backwards, the dagger slipping from your lingers and hitting the floor.

“You’re sick.”

“I didn’t realize there was such a fire inside you, desert rose. If I don’t have you now, I think I’ll go mad.” His hoarse, lewd tone scrapes against your eardrums, causing your insides to twist in dread. He cracks his neck, black tongue sweeping over his lips as he approaches you. “No, I definitely will.”

It’s the only warning you get before he tosses you on the bed and rips the clothes off your frame. Tears brimming your lashes, you squeal in protest, scratching and punching every part of him within reach. You slap him hard and he cackles, baring his black smile in sheer delight. 

“Come on, desert rose, I’m sure you can hit even harder,” he sneers. 

To make him eat his words, you hit him again. Harder than before. His laugh gets louder as you watch a faint bruise form on his cheek.

Pinning your wrists besides your head, he bends over your chest. His tongue swirls around your nipples, his cool tongue causing you to hiss and shake. Sharp teeth graze your breast and the breath hitches in your throat. You squirm on the sheets, completely at the mercy of Feyd-Rautha as he licks, bites and kisses every part of your flesh. As if he wanted you covered in marks of his ownership, wanted to ensure there wouldn’t be a doubt in anyone’s mind that you were his if they stole a glance at you. You loathe the way your traitorous body writhes and pants, a disgusting dampness gathering at the apex of your thighs. 

The tears in your eyes swell. Your body is divorcing your frazzled mind little by little, yielding to his rough, wanton touch. 

He grabs your thighs and dips between your legs, diving straight for your center. He licks a long stripe up and down your folds and you tremble. As his devilish tongue swirls around your clit, your eyes flutter, blinding pleasure building in your core. Hot waves of delight engulf you as he gathers your arousal with his tongue and drags it around your tender spot. The slow, unrelenting patterns he traces with his mouth have you fight the urge to buck your hips into his jaw. Your juices drench the entire bottom of his mouth, but he doesn’t seem to mind, greedily devouring your cunt as if he’ll never get to do it again.

As you quiver against him, your orgasm flowing through you, he chuckles against your wet cunt.

“Your body can’t even deny how much it craves me, desert rose.”

Shame pulses through you with his words.

He crawls over you, cutting his pants loose with one aggressive shove downwards. Only a glimpse of his thick alabaster cock, glazed with his need at the tip appears in your vision before he shoves the entirety of himself in you. The pain is so intense, flames alongside your walls, that it robs the words from your throat. He sinks inside you until his tight balls chafe your cunt, his hand wrapping around your throat while the other keeps your wrists above your head.

You whimper beneath him, defenseless against his sharp, piercing thrusts. Pleasure builds within you, his cock overwhelming you with shameful sensations each time it grazes your sensitive places, making you see stars. Gargled sounds pour from your throat as his girth splits you apart.

He grunts as your walls constrict around him, slamming into you even harder.

“You’re so delightfully tight around me, darling.” He bends over you to whisper, “I bet I’ll turn you into my perfect little cock-hungry whore in no time. Have you on your back and knees for me whenever I wish it.”

The Harkonnen heir’s pace fastens, his cock hitting spots that have you question your sanity. So delicious that you can’t help but let pathetic little moans escape from your throat.

He buries himself inside you even deeper, the pain and pleasure blending in crescendo. Your eyes roll back as you near your peak. Meanwhile, Feyd Rautha’s hunting his own release, his quick thrusts growing sharp and slow, his bald head grazing your bare chest.

Pleasure rolls over in a tidal wave, your back curling alongside the sheets. His own release comes after yours, thick ropes of his seeds painting your sore, sensitive walls. 

As you crash in a boneless heap on the sheets, he wraps his hand around your jaw and steals your lips for a sloppy, heated kiss. 

You cry out in pain as he sinks his teeth into your neck, placing a visible puncture wound that won’t disappear for a while.

Still nestled in your warmth, he scatters more bites along your shoulder.

“Any man would be insane to let you go after tasting such a sweet cunt, desert rose.”

You know he wants you to see, doesn’t want you to miss a single second of the spectacle. It was a split second moment, one that could have easily resulted in his death. 

But at the very last second, Feyd-Rautha prevailed and dodged Paul Atreides’ attack. He then proceeded to stab him in the heart in front of his heartbroken mother and your cousin. 

You don’t want to believe it. It must be an awful dream, one you will soon wake up from. One that lasted entirely too long. While seeing Paul’s body sink to the floor, your heart shattering into a million tiny pieces…Watching Chani glare at you with pure hatred in her eyes from across the room is almost worse. You want to run to her, embrace her, tell her you never meant to leave, tell her you aren’t a traitor to your people despite what clothes you may wear now, what marks may brand your skin. 

But it’s all for naught. Paul is dead and with him the hopes for your planet, for your people have died as well.

And you are left with nothing, no one. A stranger in a strange world. 

It’s what he reminds you as he has you caged beneath him that night, burying himself inside you again and again with abandon. 

“You’re mine, desert rose. And nothing, no one can take you away from me. Not my uncle. Not Paul Atreides. Not the Emperor.” He chuckles darkly, whispering against your ear. “...And not even you, darling.”

He is right. You are his. And with no one to challenge the rule of the now Baron Feyd-Rautha, ruler of House Harkonnen, it is as he said…There is nowhere in the galaxy you can hide where he will not find you.

[thespicemustflowgirls]

two end products of this long and costly program faced each other in a fight to the death that might easily claim both of them.

[brielarsonist]

DUNE (2021) DUNE: PART TWO (2024)

[cosmictheo]

𝐒𝐄𝐂𝐑𝐄𝐓𝐒 | feyd-rautha

( gif credits to @wondrousashes )

—summary: on a calm day back at your home, you shattered away the serenity as you decide to confront feyd about his alleged concubines and the little secrets he seemed so cautious to hide, pushing him further and further to the edge. —pairing: feyd-rautha harkonnen x female!atreides!reader —word count: 4k —warnings: arranged marriage, jealousy, a bit of implied smut (the actual smut is coming up in the next and last chapter !!!), mentions of sex, mentions of cannibalism, feyd being a slut for the reader (as he should), mentions of killing and death, hot and very passionate love confessions, definitely ooc!feyd.

writer’s note: english is not my mother tongue, so please forgive me if there is a grammatical error. hope you like it!

ᯓ★ part one ── part two ── part three (coming soon)

The week at Giedi Prime went by so fast that you hardly noticed any of it. The first day had been a bit slow and tedious, but the ones that followed turned out to be more than agreeable and enjoyable, Feyd-Rautha had been very concerned about keeping you entertained and as comfortable as possible, showing you every corner of the palace and walking you around the city.

But for now, you were back at your home for the last visit you would have there before becoming a Harkonnen. Feyd was staying close to you through all the reunion, naturally, diplomatically greeting your family.

“You met his cannibal lovers yet?” Paul's voice echoed inside your head between Feyd's conversations with Duke Leto, your gaze drifting to your brother in absolute alarm, horrified at the question and relieved that, so far, the answer was negative.

“There are rumors that tell how his concubines feed on the hearts of his dead opponents.” Your brother propelled you with the oh-so-cute information about your future husband. “The bastard has not one, but three. I guess you'll have to battle it out with them for his love, that was Duncan said.”

“Stop it, don't be an idiot.” You snapped back at him, averting your gaze from him to Feyd-Rautha, who was conversing ever so formally with Lady Jessica now.

You couldn't imagine him eating of human flesh, nor fucking three different women at the same time. Although, rumors always started from something and during the few times you had been able to get inside Feyd's head, you hadn't seen anything that was remotely pretty or light.

Paul's words managed to resonate in your head, lingering between the walls with a sense of suspicion.

Maybe that was why he never showed you the intimacy of his chambers... because on his bed lay three women compliantly awaiting for his attention and lust.

For some reason, the false image of him fucking them, bodies intertwined and interlinked, voices whimpering and moaning, made you feel respulsive, your guts twisting like a serpent.

You didn't want to believe it was jealousy, but again, your mind never wanted you to believe anything at all.

The palace of the Atreides stood majestically between rocky mountains, with the golden sunlight falling beautifully on the grayish stone walls, bringing in a warm afternoon. Rising magnificently behind your back, standing like a rocky guardian.

Your gaze was on Feyd-Rautha as you walked together along the outskirts balconies of the castle, your greenish dress swaying in the sea breeze, as did your hair, which you wore unusually loose that day, the sweet smell of it had him crazy.

“Do you like it?” You asked him after a few moments of silence, with a hint of a smile that Feyd noticed as he turned to look at you, noticing as well how you waited expectantly for his opinion of your home, which he knew you always held close to your heart.

After a second, he nodded his head, looking at you intently. “I do.”

His blue eyes, which looked as clear as ever under the natural glow of the place followed you as you walked beside him, keeping himself close to you, he could feel the natural warmth of your body and the sweet smell of your scent.

It was the first time you saw his eyes showing their true color, for back in his home, they rarely reflected so much brightness and his orbs glowed so beautifully in the sunlight. They possessed the most beautiful shade of blue, reminding you of the ocean, of home.

“It's nothing like my home.” Feyd-Rautha added in a more amused, lighter tone of voice, with a tiny smirk tugging at the corner of his lips, lowering his gaze to the ground, noting how the grass softened each of his steps on it.

“Obviously. Caladan is everything that Giedi Prime and Arrakis are not.” You answered him, snorting the words out with a soft chuckle that was carried away by the wind, turning your head to look at him once you stopped at the edge of a greenish cliff after descending one of the many rocky staircases that rose up through the hills.

The sea stretched into the immensity of the horizon and the water was uncommonly calm, waves lapping the shore relentlessly. It was a calm and peaceful scene out there, quite the opposite of what you felt inside, as you felt a tempest of emotions raging in your soul.

“Have you been with someone else like this?”

There was another one of your little questions again.

And he pondered the answer, dragging his eyes as blue as the ocean itself in front of them, back to you.

But Feyd-Rautha was rather certain that you already knew the answer, that you already had it, you could tell by the way he looked at you and the way he addressed you. Because it was enough to be clear that he had never been this way with anyone before, he had never spoken to anyone like this and he had never been so pleased to be in someone's company, basically in his entire life.

“The only people I've ever had this close to me are my family or my enemies, neither of whom I think entertain my presence very much.” Was his reply, honest and respectful. His husky voice, in contrast to the graceful sea breeze was a pleasant and comforting noise to you.

His words were masked with a touch of amusement, as he used to do in the last days when he spoke to you, it seemed as if you brought back that inner child he had, a stranger who felt increasingly closer.

But even using that tone, his eyes told you that he was not lying, that he was giving you the pure truth.

Yet, somehow you were not satisfied with his response. And he knew it.

“Have you been with other women?”

Feyd drew in a breath, half-opening his lips, air hissing between his teeth.

“So I'm assuming you've heard about the rumors about me?”

And there he was, answering you with another question to challenge you back, to play with your head as he had grown to love to do during the short time you had been in each other's company. Your conversations always ended up being a game of back and forth, a game of a tension that would be cut with the least sharp blade.

“My future wife likes to guide what she believes by mere rumors?” He pressed further.

And as always, you exhaled the air held inside you, twisting your head slightly, looking at him with incredulous eyes. “These are not rumors, Feyd —I've seen it.”

His blue eyes narrowed as he walked closer to you, expression both intrigued and yet defiant. “What do you mean you've seen it? Don't play games with me now, woman.”

“Don't threaten me, man,” You squinted your eyes as you pronounced the word like poison, almost coming out like an insult. “I'm not afraid of you.” With your own response to his defiance, this immediately silenced him, stopping him in his tracks right in front of you, as you stepped closer to him, your presence growing menacing now. You were really upset. “Do you think that when I marry you I will allow you to go on screwing around with them?”

“You met them and they threatened you?” Feyd asked in a low tone, maintaining a calm demeanor, though he wanted to know if any of his concubines had dared to even glance at you during your stay at Giedi Prime. His orbs reflected a sensation that ranged to a murderous, bloodthirsty urge, not at you, but at anyone who was stupid enough to threaten you. “Tell me, did they say anything to you?”

You crooked your head very slightly, looking genuinely offended by his questioning.

“Do you think I would allow any of your concubines —anyone at all— to threaten me and go on with their lives?” You replied instantly, looking him up and holding his gaze, as brave as ever. You seemed to be the only one in the whole universe who dared to answer him and put him in his place. And he was loving it, he felt the desire to be broken by you, to let you destroy all his walls and reach his soul. “They'd already be dead if they did.”

An amused grimace twisted his lips, gaze darkening with pride, desire even, approving of your words, feeling suddenly small under the vastness of your aura, dark and menacing now.

“Don't worry about them.” His words sounded humorous this time, just as his fingers laced between yours, he gave your hand a gentle squeeze, an attempt to reassure you. “Soon I'll be all yours, sweet girl.”

You frowned your brow slightly, as did your lips, still looking offended. He squinted his eyes, hissing as he realized he had said the wrong thing, yet again.

“I'm not sweet.” Your hand released his, your annoyance rising with the seconds. “I'm not one of your pets you can treat as sweet, Feyd-Rautha.”

He raised his brow, following you with his gaze, puzzled, as you turned around and began to walk back to the palace, turning your back on him and leaving him to talk alone.

“One of my pets?” He questioned, with that amused grimace plastered on his mouth again, as he began to follow your hurried footsteps, his pale face reflected a blend of frustration and irritation. “Do you think I would treat you like one of my pets?”

His voice sounded so husky and frustrated and delicious that you felt like just stopping and jumping on him right there. But your own self-respect and pride were more important, you wanted to believe.

Seeing that you weren't planning to stop, Feyd tried to stop you by grabbing your arm, but his hand remained over your smooth skin, with no major result in trying to calm you down, so he cleared his voice, making the attempt to be as cautious and reassuring with his words.

“I think you must understand that desire and lust is something we all possess, my lady, not just men.”

He was physically relieved when you stopped to be able to look at him, with his hand lingering on your forearm.

But your eyes were still dark with discomfort when they met his once again. “I won't be one of your girls, Feyd-Rautha.”

His lips parted, brow furrowing slightly, his voice kept low. “(Y/N)—”

He stood right there, utterly speechless, with his voice caught in his throat, watching you walk away from him, striding with steps that exuded pure anger up to your rocky palace. His hand dropped from your arm and returned to his side, now far from your warmth and heartbeat.

It took Feyd-Rautha a couple of minutes to pull himself together, sighing heavily, a small smirk curving his lips as he began to walk the path back to the Atreides' palace.

He was absolutely thrilled to discover this side of you that he hadn't previously seen. You were truly frightening and he was loving it.

By the time the moon was bright in the center of the dark sky, shining through the thickness of black, a pair of soft knocks sounded against your chamber door and you didn't have to use any hint of your skills to know who it was.

He looked at you with those now dark blue eyes from across the threshold, arm resting lightly against the grayish stone. He looked strangely troubled, look shadowed.

“Have you always been such a perfect seductress?”Feyd asked you just as you made a questioning gesture with your head. “How many men have you seduced like this?”

You looked him up with doubting eyes, frown slightly furrowed. “What are you talking about—”

He interrupted you in a scratchy voice, fearing somehow, that someone else might hear him, that someone else might witness how desperately vulnerable he was being, for you.

“You've broken me. All I can think about is you.”

Feyd took one step forward and you one step back, so you two moved as if you were in a kind of dance until he eventually entered your chambers, pulling the door shut behind him.

“I can't handle not touching you. It's a rule I'm on the brink of breaking for you.” He whispered and your breath caught in your throat, exhaling air in a stuttering gasp. “And I should— I'm expected to be a gentleman. I'm supposed to behave myself, keep my composure. But you… you are driving me crazy, woman, you play with my head, you've bewitched me.”

You could really see that he was trying to explain himself for you, attempting to articulate everything that was going through his head and you knew that it was very unusual for him to speak out loud about his feelings. And now, you were the one who couldn't say anything at all.

It was true, the most important rule your mother had emphasized to you was that you were not to get involved sexually, or in any way with your betrothed, until the very day of the actual wedding, as that particular night was meant to be consumed.

“Y—you shouldn't be here, my lord.” You managed to utter out after a few hesitant stutters, feeling your back brush against the wall and having him in front of you, trapping you against his body. He seemed to be struggling against his body, against his desire and instinct, hesitant hands twitching at his sides, nearly reaching out instinctively for your body.

“You were so bold back there talking back to me, what happened now? Aw, what happened, pretty?” He asked in a more teasing tone of voice, holding your gaze. “We could put that mouth of yours to good use then, hm?”

“My lord—”

“Call me by name.” He demanded, he begged you, whispering.

“Feyd...” You named him so obediently that it made him smile darkly to himself. “Someone might listen.”

“Are you afraid that someone will find out that two people who are getting married desired each other?” Feyd asked, half-closing his eyes and breathing out through his nose, as if trying to compose himself, trying to convince himself more than you. “There is nothing wrong for a husband to crave for his wife, right?”

You gulped, and his eyes instantly landed on your throat, watching as bone and muscle moved beneath the flesh, his tongue twitched, aching with all his will to be able to just lick the skin of your neck.

“I guess not.” Your voice trembled even when you were trying extra hard to sound confident and certain. “But we are not yet husband and wife.”

“Soon...” Feyd muttered, almost as if he was making a promise, uttering a vow.

His eyes closed as he finally rested his forehead against yours and suddenly, you were breathing from the same air. His trembling breath was warm against your lips and his scent was everything you could have ever craved... and it felt so familiar that your soul seemed to shudder, like something you had smelled all your life, something that had haunted you even in dreams, forever present but yet always so far distant.

“Can I touch you?” Feyd breathed out against your mouth after a few moments.

You didn't answer him verbally, instead you slowly took his hands between yours, fingers placing them in parallel against his, allowing you to feel every inch of the imprint drawn on his fingertips as you dragged yours across his palm, both feeling the size difference.

Then, you rested his big, calloused hands on your waist, allowing him to touch and hold you as much as he wanted and to permit him to do so, a single sight on your eyes was all it took.

He hissed as his hands molded the curve of your waist and instantly afterward drew you into his body, pulling you fully against the wall behind you. Your back arched instinctively and you gasped too, so softly, your chest pressed against his with the motion.

“Touch me.” Feyd-Rautha pleaded, he had never pleaded so... desperately for anything ever in his life.

That was your allowance for your hands reaching for his body, out of control, one making a slow path up through his strong arms while the other rested against his chest, feeling the beat of his heart under your palm, beating echoing your own. Your fingertips gently patted his muscles, recognizing his skin and his body. You got the abrupt urge to claim it as yours. To claim him.

You felt yourself blushing at all the overly imaginative and lustful images of him invading your head.

His nose brushed against yours, nuzzling it affectionately, still without opening his eyes, as if he were in some kind of dream from which he didn't want to wake up. His fingers caressed your belly, tracing a slow caress across your entire abdomen upward, while his other hand gripped your waist, holding you against him.

His touch triggered an immediate reaction across your flesh, skin shivering under his fingers.

Feyd whispered your name like a prayer, like a thirsty man, crawling and screaming for water.

“I'm trying to be good...”

“Don't be.” You whispered back, almost begging, looking up at him, gaze meeting his once he opened his eyes. “Please, Feyd—”

Then finally his lips landed on yours, initiating a kiss that you both craved so much, maybe he more than you for the way he brought you close to him, almost possessively, like a mad man, almost as if he was imprinting his mark on you, marking you for whoever had the courage to look at you.

He let himself sink in the way your lips fit against yours, in the warmth your body offered him, in the all too familiar sensation he could sense in every single fiber of his core from the kiss, your kiss.

Feyd-Rautha felt like a roaring beast just unleashed, ruthless and insatiable, just like when he walked into the arena, eager to kill, rooting against his opponents —and now he was rooting for you, to be near you, to intertwine his soul with yours, to claim you as his own.

And claiming you he was, his scent covered you all over now, making you feel a burning sensation in the pit of your stomach, throbbing crotch, blood seething like an infernal flare. Anyone who came near you would not only smell you, but him too, on every inch of your body. His hands roamed just under your breasts, rubbing across your ribcage and sliding down your back, fingers just barely grazing your ass, pressing you tightly against him in desperation, grasping and squeezing as much of your tender flesh as they could.

Your own palms roamed up his chest, caressing his broad shoulders, all the way up to his neck, tugging him closer to you in desperate motions, impossibly close.

When your bodies begged for oxygen, you broke the passionate kiss, leaving you both breathless. He kissed you once more, allowing you to breathe just for a few seconds before all you breathed was him. He wanted to become your oxygen, something indispensable to you, something you needed to live with, a necessity.

“You're the only one.” Feyd-Rautha mumbled out as his hot and soft lips trailed down a wet path all the way to your neck, tracing the line of your jaw with sloppy kisses, each time his lips pulled back from your skin a wet noise echoed and filled the room, making you gasp.

You could feel the way his lips were modulating each word against your skin, as if using a language so intimate and so tight that it took your breath away. A language known and used just between the two of you.

With desirous eyes he looked at the dark crimson mark he'd left on your throat before raising them across your flushed face, his hands cradling your jaw, thumbs caressing your skin tenderly.

“When my uncle gave me the announcement that I was to marry you, I kicked them all out.” He continued to explain, pecking your lips a couple of times before kissing each cheek, your forehead, your eyelids, your nose, every single feature of your entire face, with the utmost care and adoration.

No one had ever looked at you the way he was looking at you right now.

Feyd rasped out a small chuckle, breath warm tickling against your nose. “And by kicking them out I mean I killed them.”

His comment didn't surprise you at all, in fact, it didn't even provoke a reaction in you. During the week you had been in his company, you had already gotten used to Feyd-Rautha's -almost cruel- honesty and sassy remarks, you were just starting to get used to his very eccentric and unique attitude. Because the na-Baron's personality was something that was most captivating to you, he was so different yet so similar to you.

“Of course.” You replied, trying to hold back that dark grin on your lips, an action that caused him to kiss you once more, his attention was on your mouth the whole time as you spoke to him in that tone of voice. “I would expect nothing less from the Feyd-Rautha and for my future husband.”

Again he rested his forehead against yours and you were the one who kissed his lips this time. It had become a reassuring habit in a span of less than five minutes for both of you.

“I can't do anything to you until we get married, my uncle would find out otherwise. I have —we have— to behave, my love.”

He seemed to read your mind this time, or maybe it was the way you were looking at him, biting your lower lip gently, eyes darkened with desire, silently begging him to just take you right there against the wall when he called like that.

Perhaps Feyd-Rautha was a hopeless romantic just like you or he simply desired you in ways that went beyond mere sex or plain lust.

“Are you afraid of him?” You softly asked him, your fingers stroking the back of his neck, feeling the smoothness of his skin. Your fingertips followed the trail of one of his veins marked on his neck, making him gasp lightly.

“Have you seen him?” Feyd responded with another question, a curved little smile on his lips, his tone of voice directed pure sarcasm. “I don't think I'm in such a position as to challenge the Baron.”

You nodded your head, fingers stroking his cheekbones now, tapping the moles that spread across his face affectionately. “He's terrifying.”

Your heart seemed to melt as you watched him close his eyes and lean against your hand, kissing the palm in action.

“Mhm...” Feyd hummed, watching you attentively, as if he was memorizing every inch of your face. Suddenly, his expression changed to one of amusement.

“Were you seriously jealous of my darlings?”

Your heart seemed to drop to your stomach and burn with your guts as you heard the nickname fall from his mouth.

“Call them that again and I'll cut your throat.” You murmured against his lips, kissing them slowly before pulling away from his body, looking up at him with dark, yet playful eyes, your hand roaming across his chest until it fell to your side as you stepped away. Then you made your way towards your bed with a very slow pace, under the attentive gaze of his azure eyes following every movement of your hips.

His heart —apparently non-existent until then— was pounding like crazy inside his chest as his lips parted, for once again you had left him speechless.

That was living proof that you were simply made for him. And he for you.

And maybe that just meant you were each other's weakness, people would say so.

But he felt just invincible in your presence, as if your company made him behold the whole universe, gave him the power of the all galaxy at hand, making him feel like the only man in existence. Your man.

Feyd-Rautha had never felt so desperate to make you his wife and finally call you his.