Cw: fluff, crack, reader and Feyd are slowly getting used to each other, Feyd is still down bad, reader has long hair, neurodivergent coded!reader.
"I think you would look beautiful with long hair, Feyd."
"Don't mock me, woman."
Your eyes gleam with amusement, your hand lifting your hair to place over Feyd's head while he gazes down on the documents on his desk.
You sigh, twirling strands of your hair as they flick onto the side of Feyd's head. "But you must think of what it would be like to have hair, no? Or is it something the Harkonnens are advanced from already?–"
The pale man roles his eyes, dipping his fingers in a small bowl of water before flicking his fingers towards your face. You yelp, recoiling as you send him a glare whilst the man has the gall to let out a silent smirk.
"You know, you would be more likeable if you had less of a scowl and if you maybe decided to wear a fancy wig–"
"Harkonnens must be known for our brutality and stark appearance, my wife. If I did not keep up my reputation, others would begin to believe that acceptions are tolerated, and seperate houses would begin to think we are weak."
You purse your lip, giving thought to his perspective as you stare down at the locks of your hair. Huh, come to think of it, you were like the albino of the House Harkonnen, appearance completely different from theirs which made you feel rather different at times. "Hmm, so does this mean I should cut my hair?"
Feyd stills– eyes wide at the thought of you cutting your hair as the documents start to crease in his grip in reflex.
"Cut your hair, dearest?" Feyd asks, throat bobbing as he avoids your eyes. The muscles in his jaw clench, as he can't even bring himself to think about something that was so you be taken away.
"Well, I've been thinking about it because I feel like it maybe needed a trim, but now that I mention it I think it would be more appropriate if–"
The man's ears ring, unable to pay attention to your words as he stares at the wall in contemplation and inner agony.
"Na-Baron, are you even listening??–"
Feyd's eye twitches, enough to bring him back to this horrible reality at the mention of you addressing him with that damn title.
"How many times have I told you to not call me that? You're my wife, for fucks sake–"
"Oh, stop cursing, will you?? I just wanted your opinion on a very important matter on the reputation that you said House Harkonnen should maintain!–"
"No."
Your mouth falls agape, deadpanning at your arranged husband as he crosses his arms and turns away from you in his chair.
Is he pouting?? Is he seriously pouting??–
You huff, tilting your head to the side as you scratch your head in thought. "But I thought you were all for tradition and seriousness!"
"Being married to you means being in your presence, which is the opposite of seriousness, wife."
Feyd casts a glance to you from the corner of his eye. "You drive me insane, woman. The wife's duty is not to deprive the husband of his sanity, what you do to me is not tradition-"
Your eye twitches in irritation, letting out a huff as you flip the bowl of water so that it splashes Feyd in the side of his head. The na-Baron flinches, ducking the swat of your sandal as he catches your wrist in his palm. Feyd meets your eyes, staring into you as you squint at him in calculation.
"Don't cut your hair."
"Is that what this was about? Why didn't you just start with that first, you bastard?"
"Because as your husband, I thought it would be kind of me to let you know that you're not normal."
"You're definition of kindness is terrible. You are terrible."
"What would be terrible was if you cut your hair. Don't do it."
You squint at the man, staring down at him as he merely blinks at you in nonchalance. Feyd brings your wrist closer to his lips, placing your palm against his cheek as he presses his lips against your pulse point.
"Your hair is majestic, my wife. Do not cut it for the sake of tradition or to please others."
Tha-thump.
Your eyes soften in surprise, feeling heat rush to your face as you avert your eyes and clear your throat. "Well, if you like it so much, then I suppose I can let it grow."
Feyd looks up at you, puppy-dog eyes as he gives you a soft smile and rubs his thumb across the back of your hand. God, was he falling in love with you.
You glance at him, a sly grin making its way onto your lips as you raise your eyebrows teasingly. "I guess I can let it grow long enough so that we can make a wig for you, na-Baron–"
Feyd deadpans, smile dropping as he stares at you disappointingly while you snicker. Oh, for fucks sake, you just had to ruin the moment, didn't you?
"Wife, you and your... weirdness ruin my hopes that you will let me live in peace and quiet."
"Aww, thank you husband!"
The Harkonnen dies internally at your bluntness. God, was this going to be a long married life.
Summary Feyd Rautha has captured you from your home world keeping you as his prized possession. His depravity has no bounds until a fateful event forces him to realize how special you are to him.
🎃October Special Fic List 🎃 6 of 6 🔗 Masterlist
🔗 Feyd-Rautha Portait-in cover art fic mention- permission/commissioned by @yayeett123 🏆
⚠️Hardcore Smut⚠️ Feyd Rauthas favorite • Feyd obsessed • dark romance • his chosen one • vying for Feyd’s attention • hidden competition • constant claiming • power play • Feyd dominant • “perfect pet” • restraints • pleasure training • oral sex fetish• clit play • clit device • size kink • praise kink • Dune style sex toys• orgasm control • orgasm control with device • orgasm denial• implanted with a foreign object • double penetration /w implantation • overstimulation • near death experience • medical revival • multiple orgasms in a row • cream pie • after are • eternal vow • elevation in status
📖 Proofreader @purejasmine @butdaddyilovehim99 ✨ inspo via request 🎃 💕
Special Attention
The fortress of House Harkonnen on Giedi Prime seems like a scar against the planet’s blackened horizon, its spires clawing at the ashen sky.
Inside, the air is heavy, laced with the metallic bite of industrial fumes and the faint, sweetness of incense, a hallmark of Harkonnen decadence.
You navigate the labyrinthine of corridors, your footsteps softened by the polished obsidian floors that reflect your silhouette in distorted fragments.
The walls pulse faintly with conduits, their rhythmic sound a constant reminder of the fortress’s artificial life.
You are no stranger to these halls, as Feyd-Rautha’s favorite, you’ve learned to move with purpose, to keep your head low and your senses sharp.
The na-Baron’s favor is a double-edged sword, privilege laced with peril. You’ve seen others fall from his grace, their fates whispered in the shadowed corners of the fortress: some cast out from his bridal court reputations tarnished, others returned to their home planets permanently altered.
Yet you’ve endured, rising to be kept as his favorite, a position that grants you luxuries beyond your wildest dreams, but demands everything in return.
Today, the summons came at dawn, delivered by a silent, black-clad servant who pressed a data-slate case into your hands.
Your pulse quickened as you read it, a mix of dread and anticipation coiling in your chest.
You pressed the case open already knowing what awaited inside.
Four cuffs, synthetic and unbreakable, embedded with neural sensors, a gift from Feyd- Rautha, a symbol of his claim.
You wear them now concealed beneath the flowing sleeves and floor length hem of your gossamer robe, their cool weight a constant reminder of what awaits.
The fortress seemed silent with muted tension as you prepared. In the bathing chamber, you rinsed in a pool of mineral-rich water, its surface shimmering with iridescent oils.
The heat soothed you, but your mind raced. Feyd’s moods are unpredictable, sometimes cruel, sometimes almost tender, but always insatiable.
Tonight, you sense, will test your limits.
You anointed your skin with a fragrance distilled from Arrakeen flora, its soft notes designed to please Feyd’s heightened senses, and your hair is left loose, without constraint, as he prefers.
The robe you wear is a diaphanous veil, its fabric clinging to your curves, and beneath it the cuffs gleam faintly, their sensors dormant but ready to sync with whatever devices Feyd has prepared.
You’ve learned to expect the unexpected, his chambers are a gallery of perverse ingenuity, filled with devices and tools that blur the line between pleasure and pain.
As you leave the seraglio, a guard escorts you through the fortress’s upper levels. The corridors grow darker, the air colder, as you approach Feyd’s private wing.
The guard halts at a massive door of black alloy, its surface etched with the Harkonnen crest. He inputs a code, and the doors hiss open, revealing a dimly lit antechamber.
“He waits within,” the guard announces, then retreats, leaving you alone.
You step inside, the door sealing shut behind you. The antechamber is sparse, its walls bare save for a single holo-portrait of Feyd in the arena, his pale, muscular form stoic after a kill, his blade covered in blood, his tongue licking the edge in victory.
The image sends a shiver down your spine, not from fear but from the raw power he exudes. You’ve seen that expression in person, felt its weight when he pins you beneath him, his raspy voice whispering promises and threats.
A second door opens, and Feyd’s voice cuts through the silence. “Come, pet.” It’s a command, low and gravelly, laced with an intensity that makes your knees weak.
You obey, stepping into the main chamber, the same obsidian-slabbed room as the previous, except with biotech panels and a raised dais in the center, like a stage set for a performance only you and he will share.
The air is colder here, heavy with the scent of incense and something sharper, like the sky before a storm.
Feyd stands at the room’s center, his back to you, his muscles gleaming under the bluish glow as he adjusts settings on the biotech panel platform.
He’s shirtless, his physique sculpted by years of combat and cruelty: broad shoulders, narrow waist, hard muscles defined to perfection.
His slacks, black and form-fitting, do little to hide how substantial he is, and the sight of his size sends a pulse of heat through you.
He turns slightly, his blue eyes locking onto yours, and his black teeth flash as he smiles, like a predator sizing up his prey.
“You’re late,” he says, though there’s no real anger in his tone, only a teasing edge that promises retribution.
He strides toward you, his movements fluid, intentional, like a panther stalking its kill.
You hold your ground, though every instinct screams to kneel, submit.
He stops inches away, his heat radiating against your skin, his scent, leather, metal, and something uniquely him, filling your lungs.
“I wasn’t,” you reply, your voice steady despite the tremor in your chest.
Defiance, however small, is part of what keeps you in his favor. He likes the challenge, the spark of resistance he can bend but never fully break.
His smirk widens, and he reaches out, his fingers brushing the edge of your robe.
“Cunning,” he rasps, his voice a low sound that vibrates through you. “I will savor dismantling that.”
His hand closes around the fabric at your chest, and with a single, sharp pull, he tears it away, leaving you exposed in only your cuffs.
The cool air touches your skin, raising goosebumps, and your nipples harden under his gaze. His eyes darken, pupils dilating with lust, and you can feel the weight of his attention like a physical touch.
He circles you, his fingers trailing over your shoulders, your spine, your hips, leaving trails of fire in their wake.
Each touch is intentional, testing your reactions, mapping your body like territory he’s claimed countless times before,but never tires of exploring.
Your breath catches as he pauses behind you, his hand sliding up to grip your throat.
His thumb strokes the pulse point beneath your jaw, and you know he can feel your heart racing.
“You’re shivering,” he grins, his full lips brushing your ear, his black teeth grazing the sensitive skin. “Is it fear? Or need?” He rasps.
His other hand slips between your thighs, not touching your core but hovering close enough to make you flinch.
Your body betrays you, a soft sigh escaping your lips and a low, satisfied hum rises from his chest.
“Need,” he discerns his voice barely a breath, and his grip on your throat tightens briefly, a silent approval.
“Good pet,” he says, releasing your throat and stepping back. He gestures to the obsidian dais at the room’s center, its surface draped in black silk. “Lie down. Spread yourself for me.”
Your heart pounds as you obey, climbing onto the dais and positioning yourself as he commanded. The silk is cool against your overheated skin, a stark contrast to the fire in your veins.
You spread your thighs, exposing yourself fully, and the cuffs activate, their neural sensors linking with the dais restraints. They lock, anchoring your wrists and ankles down, leaving you trapped and vulnerable with anticipation
Feyd watches you, his expression dark with satisfaction, his cock already straining against his slacks. He approaches, his hands steady as he reaches for the table’s devices: vials, toys, remotes…things that will soon push you to the edge of oblivion.
“Tonight,” he says, his voice a raspy promise, “I am feeling especially generous.” He discerns, his eyes dark fathomless voids as they rake over your body.
You shiver, knowing this is the moment you become his canvas, his obsession…how you earn the position of his favorite…
You lie there, bound by the cuffs anchoring your wrists and ankles to the edges of the dais, your body splayed for his attention.
His pale, muscular form is a vision of brutal beauty, his skin smooth like polished marble, stretched over ridges that shift with every movement. His black teeth glint in the low light as he smirks, savoring you, his voice raspy and low, cutting through the silence.
“Such a good pet,” he praises, his voice filled with feral delight as he reaches between your spread thighs, his hands gripping into the soft flesh with enough force to bruise.
“Already weeping for your na-Baron’s blade,” he says, his fingers lowering to slide through your slick folds, teasing your clit as it throbs, feeling a desperate ache blooming under his touch.
He reaches for a small, metallic device on the nearby table, a slender, curved phallus designed to fit inside you, attached with two black tiny nodes at the top. He coats it in a shimmering lubricant, the liquid tingling against your skin as he presses it slowly into your entrance.
Your hips push up involuntarily, but he pins them down with his other hand, his strength overwhelming. “Patience, pet,” he soothes, continuing to glide it in.
The stretch is immediate, the phallus filling you deeply, its nodes pulsing faintly against your inner walls.
You wince as your core tightens around it, and Feyd’s eyes darken with lust as he retrieves the phallus, pulling it from your body with the nodes now gone, already lodged deep inside of you.
“This,” he instructs, holding up a small spheroid, his thumb hovering on its sleek button. “Will make you come for me on command.”He says, his other hand lowering the fabric down his waist as his pale cock juts out proud and vicious, the thick veins pulsing beneath pale skin.
The head is flushed a deep rouge, and he wraps his long fingers around the shaft, stroking himself with slow pulls, the motion making the ridges along his cock flex under the low light, and with groan of anticipation, he presses the button.
The nodes surge to life inside of you, a relentless vibration that targets your core and sends shockwaves through your body.
Your back arches, a strangled moan escaping your lips as your walls clench and throb around nothing.
The pleasure is overwhelming, a white-hot current that drowns out everything else.
Your clit pulses in time with the vibrations, and you’re already moaning, body tensing, teetering on the edge of oblivion.
Feyd watches, his thick, pale cock already leaking with precum, twitching against his strokes.
“Not yet,” he taunts, and shuts off the nodes just as your orgasm begins. The sudden absence of sensation is agonizing, leaving you panting, your body trembling with unspent need.
Feyds eyes darken with desire as he sees the slick forming along your folds, and he places the spheroid down on the dias, lowering himself between your thighs feral for it.
His tongue delves in deep, savage and unrestrained, devouring every drop with guttural groans that vibrate against your sensitive skin.
He sucks and licks at your clit with primal fury, his black teeth grazing your inner lips and he buries his face deeper, inhaling your scent like it’s a drug.
You are shivering as his hand digs into your inner thigh, holding you open wider, and your already sensitive clit is pinched between his fingers, rolled and tugged with a precision that makes your hips twitch.
Each twist sends a jolt straight to your core, your body jerking against the restraints as he lowers his mouth again, black teeth grazing your clit before he sucks hard, the wet heat of his flicking tongue exquisite torture as your nerves pulse in pleasure.
You moan until your voice is hoarse, until weak, broken cries spill from your lips, making him groan with a low, animalistic sound that vibrates through your core.
He thrusts his tongue in, just enough to make you come, and as you twitch and writhe in pleasure, he soothes you with slow, soft licks.
Your body is in overstimulation, every touch amplifying the ache deep within, and he pulls back, his hands trailing down your stomach to your clit and spreading your folds with his fingers, exposing the swollen bud.
You feel the cool kiss of another device, a small suction cup that he fits over your clit, and you tremble as you down look at it.
“This will latch on and never let go,” he says, his voice a dark promise as the device forms a soft white halo beneath its translucent shell. “It will kiss you deeper than my mouth ever could.” he reveals, as it begins to glow in a slow, hypnotic rhythm.
It pulses gently at first, a teasing pressure that makes your hips writhe, but when it activates fully…it’s like a supernova.
The suction becomes firmer, drawing a pulse to the surface of your clit, making it throb with an intensity that borders on overwhelming.
Your whimpers turn to cries, your body tensing as the first orgasm rises through you, your walls spasming around the nodes still lodged inside.
“My perfect pet.” He says, watching you moaning his name in exquisite bliss, and he presses the spheroid, making the internal nodes vibrate in sync with the clit device, prolonging your climax until your body is rocking against the table, your hips grinding as if fucking an invisible force.
But he’s far from done.
He climbs over you on the dais, his muscular frame blocking the light as he aligns his cock with your entrance. The nodes are still inside as he pushes in alongside them, the added fullness taking you over the limit.
He groans, his jaw clenching, the exquisite pleasure extending to him as the vibrations hum against the thick length of his cock.
He loses himself, his face softened in ecstasy, his eyes fluttering in bliss as he grinds the head of his cock against the nodes, his cock twitching at the dual sensations.
The overstimulation morphs into a deep, throbbing pressure as he thrusts, groaning deeply in his throat. His cock slides slickly in and out, dragging against the vibrating nodes with every powerful thrust of his hips, until his voice fractures in pleasure.
“Made for my blade…made for me,” he rasps, his hands gripping your thighs, as he begins pounding into you. Each thrust drives the nodes deeper, the vibrations syncing with his rhythm, and your walls milk him with every pulse.
He leans down, his full lips brushing your neck, your jaw, his black teeth nipping your skin. “My favorite pet” he praises, groaning as his cock twitches inside of you. “You break so beautifully, clenching around me like you’ll never let go…..None of the others endure like you.”
Your gaze up at him, your moans lost in the overload of sensation. Every time he thrusts, he pushes the nodes as they slip around his cock, and you want to cry it feels so good, you want to scream but your body can’t react as you drown in the abyss of overstimulation.
He reaches for a vial on the dais, a shimmering, iridescent liquid that he uncorks with his teeth. He tilts your chin back, lining it to your open mouth, and pours the liquid onto your tongue.
It’s sharp, like spiced wine, and within seconds, a warm, euphoric haze spreads through your body, heightening your senses, every touch magnified, every thrust amplified. The drug extends your climax, keeping you teetering in oblivion, your body writhing beneath him in unbridled ecstasy.
Time loses meaning under his relentless attention, and he uses the spheroid, pressing it to trigger orgasm after orgasm, each one more intense than the last, until your body is a quivering mess.
Your heart pounds erratically, your breaths shallow, and suddenly, a sharp pain lances through your chest.
Your vision darkens, your body seizing as cardiac arrest grips you. The sensors monitoring your heart rate in the cuffs go off, and Feyd’s eyes narrow as he looks up at the biotech panels with a flicker of anger.
He tsks, quickly reaching for a small, patch-shaped device, its surface etched with metallic glowing patterns. He presses it to your chest, directly over your heart, and a jolt of energy surges through you. Your body arches, gasps tearing from your throat as your heart stutters back to life.
The medical patch stabilizes your cardiac rhythm, and Feyd watches, his expression unreadable. “I’m not done with you yet,” he says, almost tenderly, his hand stroking your sweat-soaked hair.
His thrusts are slower, savoring the way your overstimulated body reacts, your walls fluttering around him, your body leaking sweat, tears, slick; every inch of you exhausted, spent beyond endurance.
Finally, after what feels like an eternity, he groans, a deep, guttural sound, and spills inside of you, his cock pulsing as he rides out his release.
When he pulls out, he brings the phallus to your slick entrance and clicks a button as the nodes slip free, attaching to it, leaving you empty and aching.
He leans over you, pressing slow kisses on your chest before licking a stripe up your neck. His tongue seeks entry to your mouth, and as you accept, he swirls it against yours as he cups your face.
“My chosen one,” he whispers, his voice a soft rasp as he lowers his fingers to your clit, “I would never let anything take you from me.” He vows removing the suction device, and he presses a hand to your pelvis in a rare moment of gentleness.
“The agony I would feel without you by my side,” he breathes, his nose brushing along your jaw, the admission pulled from somewhere deep and unguarded, the thought of almost losing you lingering in his voice.
“I will have you as my only one,” he whispers against your skin, his fingers circling the steady beat of your heart. “I will breed you, fill you with my heirs,” he says, his hand sliding over your stomach. “I will arrange our union under the Baron, my uncle’s blessing to bind you to me eternally.”
You blink up at him, voice heavy with exhaustion and awe. “You would….have me as your Baroness?”
His hand lifts to your cheek, thumb tracing your lower lip with quiet possession. “My days as a playboy are over,” he says, studying your face as if committing the moment to memory. “You are my endless satisfaction.” He confesses.
He presses a button to release the cuffs, and you immediately cling to him, your body aching and sore, your mind drifting off in a haze, the patch still attached to your chest, the aftershocks of his touch lingering like a brand.
“You are mine now…title and soul”…he says, claiming you completely, his chosen one, his baroness, every pulse of your heart,and every part of your flesh, bound to his special attention. “forever.”
Pairing: Na-Baron Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x fem!exBeneGesserit! reader
Summary: You were his right-hand (wo)man after he saw you in combat during your training on the Bene Gesserit. He freed you from them and turned you from a Bene Gesserit into a faithful soldier who took care of all his dirty business. Getting rid of the bodies of the people he killed, organising opponents for him to fight, poor people on whom he could vent his anger and desire for bloodshed, or even concubines. You were his eyes and ears in the baron's court. You reported everything to him, being more effective than any Bene Gesserit. But he wants more... much more.
Warning: 18+; violence; blood; Feyd Rautha; death; fight; brutality; smut; bathing together; dagger play; breeding kink? I guess; a lot things happening; my first time for Feyd so I'm a little nervous😅; enjoy!;
Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen's Masterlist ~•♤♤♤•~ Main Masterlist
~•♤♤♤•~ PART II ~•♤♤♤•~
It wasn't your choice to undergo Bene Gesserit training. Your mother abandoned you when you were a little baby and took you to these terrible women, leaving you to their mercy.
You hated them. Their entire organisation, which included planned breeding, aimed at creating the Kwisatz Haderach. To you, these women were a sick cult that you were reluctant to be a part of. You trembled with fear, thinking of the day when they would send you to extend the genetic line of a nobel family by lending your womb or to ensure that their plans succeeded.
However, you realised that you had little say in the matter. The Bene Gesserit would find you anywhere if you tried to run and hide. You were doomed to follow the orders of your crazy old reverend mother and wait in fear for the day when you could prove your usefulness.
But one day, you crossed paths with Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen. And for a very long time, you considered it a real gift from fate. The first happy turn of events in your tragic life.
He was on a diplomatic mission. He was being shown around by the princess of your planet, and they happened to be attending the training of the Bene Gesserit sisters. You immediately caught his attention. Your movements were smoother, full of the passion of a true warrior. You charmed him so much that, at first, he thought you had put a spell on him. After seeing your potential and your obvious dislike for your sisters, he took you with him to Giedi Prime.
He faked your death so the Bene Gesserit sisters wouldn't come looking for you. He made you his right hand, his most trusted soldier. It was only after years of service under the Na-Baron that you realised that you had entered a much worse hell than any plans the Bene Gesserit had for you.
Feyd Rautha was supposed to be your personal devil. But first, you saw him as your saviour.
An animalistic, bloodthirsty scream resounds throughout the na-baron's private training room as his 'toy' falls dead under the blow she received from the furious man. You enter the room just as Feyd pierces him with his sword, causing drops of blood to land on your face.
You wipe them away, undeterred by the na-baron's brutality. Years of service had accustomed you to all the acts of cruelty he was capable of. At least this time, the dead man's entrails didn't spill around him. You hated calling his harpies to the feast. Despite so many years spent at the side of the baron's favourite nephew, you never got used to his concubines. They made you feel strangely uneasy.
"My lord, na-baron." You say, announcing your presence. Feyd breathes heavily and shifts his mad, furious gaze to you, not noticing your entrance until you speak.
You walk past the body, avoiding the pool of blood, and hand him a towel. He takes it from you without a word, wiping the sweat and blood from his head, chest, and back. You ignore his exposed muscles and kneel next to the man on whom he took out his anger, preparing to carry him out of the room before the next opponent/toy shows up.
"You were right. That old fool entrusted Arrakis to my brother. He will embarrass our family in one day. Ha! Even half is enough for him! This wretch doesn't know how to manage a small province, let alone an entire planet with fremen ready to attack at any corner." He says, rubbing himself furiously. He throws a towel into the corner of the room and walks to the table to pour himself something to drink.
"He gives him a chance to prove himself. When he wastes it, you will get it and prove to the baron and the lords that you are rightfully entitled to the title of baron." You say, securing the body so the guards at the door can carry it out.
"Every fool knows that. It's obvious that I'm a better choice than this scoundrel, who will sell the secrets of our family and swear allegiance to anyone who threatens his life. Baron throws a party in his honor. To the success of his mission. He's just doing it to piss me off. He doesn't give a damn about Rabban or whether he succeeds. This is just another of his tests on me. That's why you're coming with me. I've already sent for a dress for you." You look up at him with your surprised gaze. You're even more shocked when he reaches out his hand to help you up—something you didn't expect from him in his white, burning rage state.
"A dress?" You ask, taking his hand. You hold your breath, keeping yourself from gasping, as he lifts you off the floor with one strong pull. Unprepared, you bump completely onto his chest, not being able to keep your balance.
You freeze at the feeling of his muscled body close to yours. You can feel his heart pounding in his chest from the adrenaline he felt while killing this poor man. You tense up, seeing his icy-blue eyes already staring at yours. He starts giggling darkly as he presses you tighter against him so you can feel every muscle of his.
"Is there a problem? Would you prefer to come naked? I wouldn't mind, but…”
"I'm simply surprised that you want me there officially. I usually sneak there. I watch from the shadows. Well, you know." You interrupt me before he can insinuate anything, and with his silent permission, you move a decent distance away from him, leaving his arms.
You always had to be careful when making moves like this. You saw how he punished for minor offences, just for breathing. And you didn't run away from the Bene Gesserit with him to lose your life because of one of his… impulses. Although he has never put you in any serious danger, which was strangly amazing, since all of the servants who worked for him (and are still alive) have experienced his wrath on their bodies at least once.
"I know. But this time, I need you by my side. Not in hiding. My birthday is coming up—the most important of them all. I want to know what my uncle will come up with. Maybe you can find out something from the Lords. Besides, why wouldn't I want to have such beauty on my arm?"
"You want a woman by your side so you can humiliate your brother before he leaves? Perpetuate in him a sense of belief that you are superior, even if you don't have power over Arrakis right now?"
You see his hands tighten on his blades. You purse your lips, realising you were too quick to question his intentions. Basic mistake. You shouldn't have tested the waters when you knew Feyd was already on the end of his patience.
He takes a step towards you, entering your personal space. You swallow and lift your head to meet his gaze. This wasn't the first time he had intimidated you, tested you, carefully gauged your reaction, and waited until he finally saw the fear in your eyes. But you never gave him that satisfaction. If the Bene Gesserit taught you anything, it was that fear was weakness. A weakness you could tame... at least enough not to show it to anyone else.
So you endure his piercing, burning gaze with indifference. You stay like that even after a small smirk starts to appear on his face. You wonder how many people before you saw that smirk and stared into those night-black eyes on Giedi Prime as they passed from this world.
"That pink little tongue of yours will get you into trouble one day, my little witch." He purrs, his tone low and dangerous. He reaches up to your face with his free hand and gently runs his hand through your hair, caressing your cheek and jaw with the pad of his thumb. "Possible. I'm a na-baron... don't I deserve the best?" He looks defiantly at you, throwing you the proverbial gauntlet. He's waiting for you to stumble. For open defiance of his order.
You don't understand why, but he's been acting like this more and more lately. He made ambiguous comments, carefully watching your reaction. It was something new—a change in his behaviour that you hadn't figured out the reason for yet. But you had too much on your mind to think about it any longer.
"I can prepare you a beautiful concubine perfect for Giedi Prime standards." You suggest at which he shakes his head, laughing hoarsely. He turns his back to you and pours himself another glass of water.
"It's not necessary. I want you. Go and get ready. I'll join you in two hours when I'm done here." He says just as the door opens to reveal the soldiers you called for to take the body away and who have brought him a new drugged opponent. Feyd licks his lips, flips the blade up, and catches it, making a little show before lunging at his toy.
"As you wish, my na-baron." You say before leaving him to get ready for the party. Another warrior's scream echoes off the walls of the chamber as Feyd unleashes his anger on him.
You scan the room carefully, standing with your glass against the wall in a more crowded part of the room. You try your best to blend in with the crowd, but with your hair down, it's not that easy. Even if you try to cover your hair, you can feel people's curious gazes on you. But the worst ones are the burning gazes of the lords on you, some of them too lustful to be able to feel comfortable.
If you could, you would hide in the shadows, as usual, and observe them without being the centre of attention. You felt like a monkey in a circus or an exotic animal at an exhibition. The cold hand on your shoulder reminds you why you can't do this. You turn around to once again meet the na-baron's intense gaze today.
"You look good." He says as his eyes carefully scan the black latex dress with cutouts on the sides that reach down to your hipbones. "But I don't remember having that metal corset disguised as armour and that ridiculous chain veil sent to you along with the dress."
"I almost mistook this rag for a nightgown. I had to wear something on it. They think I'm your whore anyway; we don't have to prove it to them." You respond to his taunt and turn towards him. He is wearing black, formal armour, which is perfect as an official outfit.
"Do you find it scandalous to be my whore, little witch? Maybe even disgusting?" You meet his gaze to roll your eyes at him, at which he chuckles, wrapping his arms around your waist. You don't like this closeness, but there's nothing you can do to push his hand off of you. You are in public. Such a gesture towards him would be equivalent to a death sentence.
"I see nothing... honourable or good in being anyone's whore, my na-baron." You say, gently moving away from him so as not to lean on him as much.
"Have you seen anything noteworthy?" He asks, unfazed by your trying to move away from him. He pulls you up, wrapping his arms around your waist tighter and making your back rest against his chest. His fingertips brush against the exposed skin, caressing your hipbone.
You frown, turning your head to look at him. He's never been so... clingy before. He always respected your personal space and never touched you. You blame it on his desire to tease his brother, who is staring at you intently from across the room, and you shift your gaze to the people present at the party.
"Several lords congratulated your brother. However, there are rumours and beliefs that he will not be up to the task. Some also believe that you will slit his throat before his ship leaves for Arrakis."
"This idea crossed my mind. If you hadn't brought this information to me earlier, you would probably have had to deal with making the public believe in his… tragic and sudden death from natural causes."
"Natural causes; I wish I could see that." You scoff, finishing your drink. You turn around, leaving his arms, and set your glass down on the table. When you turn to him again, he holds out his hand for you to take.
"You'll see if you don't entertain me. I'm bored, and looking at this smug idiot isn't helping my patience or my ability to restrain myself. Dance with me, my little witch."
"You're interrupting my work." You complain, taking his hand. He leads you to the dance floor and spins you around, pulling you tight against his chest. He holds you close to him, perfectly placing his steps and moving to the beat of the music. He is as fluid in dancing as he is in fighting. Flawless as always.
"I'm your work. You are my right hand; you meet all my needs. I don't think I need to remind you of that, do I?" He asks in challenge, taking your chin between his two fingers as he looks at you carefully. You only smile at him in a sweet, artificial way. He laughs, fully aware of how fake this act is, and drops your chin.
Over the years, you discovered that he liked it when you teased him and responded to his taunts with your own. Of course, only when no one could hear it, and not very often. He had a reputation to uphold. He couldn't afford for anyone to see his right-hand (wo)man mocking him. Unbeknownst to you, he found it adorable the way your eyes lit up whenever you did something mischievous.
"Of course not, my na-baron."
"Good." He nods at your words. He takes his eyes off you for a moment and focuses on something behind your shoulder. He leans down, his cheek brushing against yours. You shiver at the sudden closeness, his scent becoming more distinct as you inhale it wholeheartedly. It's captivating. Sweet. Intoxicating. Dangerous. Just like him. "Do you have your daggers?" His hot whisper reaches your ear. He's so close, you can almost feel his full lips brush against your earlobe.
"Yes, why?" You ask, perfectly masking the tremble in your voice. But you doubt whether you can hide from him how your heartbeat speeds up. You blame it on the adrenaline rush. Not fear caused by his proximity.
"It seems to me that you will soon have to prove to these imbeciles once again why I chose you to be my right-hand man." He explains as the song ends.
You feel him reluctantly release you from his embrace and take a step away from you. You turn around and see his brother walking towards you, his right hand following him, giving you a mischievous look and a lecherous, mocking smile when he sees your outfit. You straighten up, lifting your head proudly at the man in a similar position to yours. The difference between you was that you served the stronger Harkonnen. It would give you an inviolably higher position if, like them, you had a penis between your legs.
"Brother. You finally brought your pet to play with us." Rabban says, nodding to his brother. You feel a wave of disgust as his gaze lingers on you longer.
Feyd tenses, furious, as his brother's eyes are all on you. You wouldn't have noticed if his hand hadn't been on your hip bone a moment later, hiding some of your exposed skin from his brother's eyes. You wonder what his problem might be. After all, he chose this dress for you by himself.
"Be careful. She doesn't have a muzzle. I would prefer that no harm come to you before you go to Arrakis. She's got some pretty... sharp teeth." He says it condescendingly, pulling you closer to him. In a perfect world, you'd kick them both in the groin. Unfortunately, you don't have that luxury. You can only imagine putting these two pseudo-alpha males in their place. But how sweet these dreams are...
"What about a small competition? My man against yours? Let's see what this mysterious beauty that you keep hidden can really do." Rabban's right-hand man gives you a cocky, confident look. He plays with the dagger in his hand, making a poor show that was intended to intimidate you. You roll your eyes behind your metal chain veil and shift your gaze to Feyd. You are only subject to his orders. Not some weak, pathetic creatures.
"This party is already dead. Do you want to kill also YOUR pet?" Feyd mocks him, and you almost break your unflappable, emotionless attitude, barely holding back your laughter. Na-baron sees this and smiles to himself, rubbing circles with the pad of his thumb on your hipbone.
"Are you afraid that she won't heat your bed anymore?" Feyd narrows his eyes at him. You feel his fingertips dig painfully into your hip as he tries to keep himself from lunging at his brother with the blade. You know full well that the eyes of the lords, the baron, and most of the people at the party are turned towards you.
"I have no doubt whatsoever about the outcome of this little skirmish. She will just sweat unnecessarily. And I would rather have her in full strength tonight." He says it in a mocking tone, shifting his gaze towards you. He licks his lips and tightens his grip to make his lewd intentions towards you clear to the two men.
Despite his famous reputation, he never touched you. Giedi Prime society might have thought otherwise, but in the years you had served as his right-hand man, he had never once taken you to bed or had you entertain him at night. You appreciated it immensely, which is why you accepted such behaviour from him without batting an eyelid whenever you were in public. It was all a game to maintain the reputation he had built over the years. Or so you thought.
"Feyd, boy, release your pet. Let her entertain us." The baron's words interrupt any skirmish that might have developed between the brothers.
It was not uncommon at Giedi Prime parties for soldiers to fight against each other to entertain the crowd. You just didn't think that you would have to fight someone during your first official arrival at the party. Although you should have anticipated such an unexpected turn of events. The baron and Rabban would not miss the opportunity to find out how much you were really worth and why Feyd, out of all the talented soldiers, chose the Bene Gesserit as his right-hand man.
You send a quick glance at Feyd. He gives you a small nod, so you bow to the baron and prepare to fight. The crowd around you parts to form a circle. You feel people's excitement as you flip the metal chains from your face to your hair, revealing more of your face. You wrap the shawl around your hair, tying it tighter and making sure it won't get in the way of your fight.
You look at your opponent, who is also preparing, trying to spot any of his weak points before the fight even begins. Rabban says something in his ear, which causes the manly smile to grow. Feyd stands in front of you, blocking your view of them. You look into his steel blue eyes as he leans towards you.
"Don't hold back." He whispers in your ear, handing you his blade. "And finish it quickly. We have other things to do."
You nod at him. He walks away from you, sending a mocking smirk at your opponent. He spreads his arms, taking a few steps back, as if inviting him to try his hand at you. You feel the burning gaze of his eyes on your back as you position yourself in front of the man.
"Don't worry, witch. If I win, I won't kill you. It's a shame to waste such a pretty face. I wonder if you're as good as the rumours say. Your pussy must be good to keep the na-baron entertained for so long." He says, waiting for you to activate your shield. But you don't do this. You want to completely humiliate him and give everyone in the room a clear message about your power and that you didn't secure your place just by having a pretty face. The crowd cheers, but you think you can hear Feyd growl furiously amidst the shouts of approval.
"I doubt you'll have the chance to find out." You say, and without waiting for his next words, you attack.
After the first few attacks, you figure out his tactics. He is physically strong, it's true, but that's his only advantage. It attacks you in a learned way, repeating its patterns. You read him quickly and position yourself to use his strength and mass against him. You could have walked up to him a long time ago and slit his throat, but you know it would be much better if you had some fun with him. You will show that you have complete control over the course of this fight.
You dodge the man's punches, and after a few minutes, you quickly get bored when you once again manage to kick him and send him to his knees. You take advantage of the moment he gets up from the floor to glance at your na-baron. Feyd doesn't look happy with your introduction. Of course, you see his interested look and how he appreciates your skills, but he doesn't look at you like he usually does. He doesn't wait with bated breath for your next move, like the crowd around you does. You can tell from his face that he wants you to finish this as soon as possible. You frown, surprised that he of all people doesn't enjoy watching the fight. You wonder what the hell is wrong with him.
Your moment of inattention is, of course, immediately exploited by your opponent. You manage to fend off the man's blade, but not his kick, which sends you landing on your butt on the floor. You feel rage more than pain; you only see red when you hear the cocky laugh of the man you are fighting with. You're so focused on driving the blade into his body that you don't notice Feyd's angry look, the murder in his eyes, and the desire to rip your opponent apart with his own hands as you fall to the floor. And you certainly don't see the trembling of his hand, as he instinctively wanted to grab you and pull you safely behind him.
You strike once, quickly driving the blade into the man's stomach and leaving it there. You push him to his knees, push away the hand that holds the sword, and reach for the dagger hidden in the sleeve of your dress. You strike a second time, piercing his shoulder. You stick the second dagger into his hand and knock the weapon out of his hand, taking it from him. You grab the man's throat in a tight grip and tilt his head back. You lean over him, a mocking smirk on your face as he struggles to breathe.
"I didn't even take off my high heels." You mocked him as you slit his throat.
You smile victoriously as you decapitate him. His head rolls at your feet, blood splattering your dress and face as you breathe heavily. You sigh, feeling your heart pound in your chest, as you bow to the crowd surrounding you as they shout and applaud you. Out of the corner of your eye, you see Rabban's sour, angry expression. You kick the head of his right hand towards him and give him a small smirk. You stand upright as you meet the eyes of your na-baron.
And then you saw it. Hunger in his eyes. Pure lust and desire, as his pupils were wide and solemnly focused on you.
You knew that gaze. He only looked like that at things he really wanted. Only his favourite concubines got THAT look from him or a beautiful, precisely made weapon that fit perfectly in his hands. Usually he had that look in his eyes right after the great battle he won. He would lock himself with his concubines and then spend long hours in his chambers, giving himself completely to his primal instincts.
You shiver as he walks towards you, ignoring anything else in the room. He grabs you tightly by the throat, and, to the delight of the drunken crowd who are screaming madly with excitement after the show you had made, he kisses you.
It is hard, hungry, and passionate. His hand completely removes the metal chains and shawl that were covering your head, and he pulls you to him as close as possible. His grip on your hair and throat is tight as he demands that your mouth be opened for him by biting your lower lip. You moan involuntarily, causing his tongue to slip into your mouth, as he is exploring new territory with a zeal you've never seen from him.
He pulls away from you when you're completely out of breath. Your vision is blurry, your heart is pounding from the adrenaline of the fight, and you can only stare at him stupidly and blankly while trying to understand what just happened.
Your eyes widen as he licks his lips, lust still burning in his eyes as he takes in your panting form and swollen, red lips. A trickle of blood drips from your mouth after he bit into it a few minutes ago. As you taste your blood on your tongue, you realise the terrifying truth.
Feyd Rautha Harkonnen desired you.
Feyd strokes your neck, which is still in his tight grip. His eyes travel from your lips to your neck, to your collarbones, to the valley of your breasts, and to your hips, which were starting to bruise from how tightly he held them in the moments before your fight. Suddenly, everything starts to fall into place for you. His strange, unusual behaviour, the flirtatious comments, the long stares, and his more frequent attempts to hold you close to him and touch your exposed skin are starting to make sense.
You were screwed.
Completely and utterly fucked up.
You've been avoiding him since that night. More than any Reverend Mother or Bene Gesserit. Which was a very difficult task, considering how many things you had to do as his right hand.
But, luckily, you managed to avoid being alone with him. Of course, it couldn't last long. You knew him very well, and you knew that eventually he would try something and come for you. But you tried to deceive yourself by living the lie that his desire would pass and his concubines would effectively take care of him.
If he noticed your attempts to stay away from him, he never mentioned it. Of course, he chased after you when he saw you walking alone down the hall, but you never gave him a chance to catch up with you. He may have grown up here, but you knew the palace like the back of your hand. And all the nooks and crannies you could hide in from him.
So you actually managed not to get close to him for a very long time. Until it was time to train a unit of soldiers directly subordinate to him.
"Y/N!!!" You're sure all of Giedi Prime could have heard his scream. You sigh, calming down as you continue your walk to the arena. You step out into the black sun, carefully watching the men training. You walk up to him and bow to him.
"My lord na-baron." You say it politely, unfazed by the fact that he's practically seething with rage. You were more used to dealing with him like this than when he was horny... or worse, kind. You would turn on your shield if you knew it wouldn't make him fall over the edge and start murdering everyone he could.
"Take your blade. None of these piles of useless muscles know basic defensive moves. Look, you all! You have to learn this by the end of the day, or next time you will enter this arena as my opponent!" He walks over to one of them, probably to either stab him or adjust his position, leaving you to get ready. You tie your hair up so it doesn't bother you during a fight and choose your blade.
You gasp in surprise when you are suddenly pushed. You turn around quickly, trying to keep your balance as you face the na-baron. You move your hand to activate your shield, but his voice stops you:
"Don't. I have to show them how to do it. No shield." You know he's lying, and that's not why he doesn't want you to turn on your shield, but you don't say anything. You just nod and prepare to get into a defensive position.
He attacks you quickly. Very quickly. You've trained with him before, and you have to admit, he's never been this… brutal with you.
You go through different positions with him until you finally stop following the textbook fighting patterns and start fighting seriously. You keep up with his movements for a long time, blocking his blade with yours and dodging attacks that you have no physical ability to block, but he keeps pressing against you, not letting you rest or trying to return the favour with one of your attacks.
You gasp in surprise when he trips you, sending you to the ground. You block his swing at you with your blade and kneel in the sand, trying to get up, but he's pressing too hard against you with his sword for you to move. You use all your strength to push him away from you. Feyd growls, throwing his sword aside, and simply lunges at you. You're too shocked to do anything as he snatches the blade from your hand and sits on top of you.
You fight him, sending both of you rolling in the sand. Eventually, he gets impatient and wraps his hand around your throat. You take a hoarse breath as he blocks your airway. You grab his hand around your neck and try to pull it away. You dig your nails into his palm, but he remains unmoved, pinning you to the sand.
He leans closer to you, and you take the opportunity to wrap your hand around his neck. He laughs, showing you his black teeth as he practically lays on top of you. His erection presses hard against your thigh as he grinds against you, grunting as he too begins to feel the need for air... and something more. You see black spots in front of your eyes, and you feel tears welling up in your eyes as you struggle to breathe.
You let go of his neck completely, your hand falling next to your head, and you desperately try to use the remaining air to try and use your Bene Gesserit voice on him. But before you try to say anything, he loosens his grip so you can breathe, but his fingers are still lightly holding your neck.
Too busy breathing, you don't notice how he tilts his face towards you. Only when you feel his tongue on your neck do you realise how close he is to you. You freeze when he runs his tongue from your neck, from jaw to cheek, to taste your tears. You hear him moan softly. To confirm that your brain, stunned by lack of oxygen, didn't make it all up on its own, he rubs against you, and his hardness in his pants is clearly felt by you.
You just fucking hope he doesn't fuck you in front of those soldiers.
You meet his black eyes with yours. You shiver as he leans in, his bare chest pressed completely against you as he whispers into your ear.
"Damn you, witch... if you taste as sweet as your tears..." He growls. You feel dizzy, and you're not sure if it's because of the heat of the moment, the fact that he cut you off from oxygen for a while, or because you're overwhelmed by his scent and the warmth that radiates from the two of you.
You thank whoever is above you as he finally pulls away from you and stands up. He gives you his hand and helps you stand on your two feet. The soldiers obediently look at the ground, not daring to face the na-baron's gaze. You swallow hard, pulling your hand from his grasp.
Feyd barks orders at them, herding them back to training. You breathe a sigh of relief when he stops paying attention to you. You use your shawl to wipe his saliva and your sweat from your neck. You take your blade and are about to leave the arena to do the rest of your duties. But a tight grip on your wrist stops you. You tense up and turn around to face him again.
"Y/N." He murmurs, watching you carefully. You're sure that bruises are starting to appear on your neck from his tight squeeze. "Come to my chambers tonight." A cold shiver runs through you, but all you can do is nod and watch his retreating figure as he leaves to continue the training.
You hoped he didn't mean what you thought he meant by that... invitation. Otherwise, this could be your last night on Giedi Prime or the last night of your life. You're not sure yet.
For the first time, you feel fear as you walk to his chambers. He had called for you at such times before, but it never occurred to you that he wanted to do with you something else than discuss with you matters that were related to the Giedi Prime Court, the baron's plans, or other political matters and plots.
You shudder, wondering what might be waiting behind that door. You saw the condition in which some of his concubines left him. You didn't want to become one of them; you didn't want to be reduced to being his lover. It was fine as it was. You felt very good as his shadow, ears, and eyes. You liked conspiring together with him, making plans, and that hrill each time you managed to take down the enemies that were standing in your way. He was supposed to be your savior, not your persecutor. Were you that naive from the beginning, or has everything started going to shit recently?
The guards let you through without saying a word. With your heart pounding, you enter his chambers.
He's sitting on the bed. His harpies finish taking off his clothes, and at first you want to back away, but as soon as his gaze meets yours, you freeze. Feyd snaps at one of them. She hands him a glass of his wine while the others look at you furiously.
"Leave." He tells them, never taking his eyes off you. The women look at each other, not wanting to leave him, especially leave him alone with you. You guess that if it weren't for Feyd's presence, they would have attacked you long ago, trying to eat you before their master got a chance to touch you. Disgust arouses in you as you think that you may be soon reduced to their role and turned into one of them. "I said something." He growls at them, shifting his gaze from you to give them an angry glare.
The harpies are going out obediently, but they are not wasting an opportunity to hiss at you as they pass you to get to the exit. You hear one of them scream in pain as Feyd suddenly throws a knife at them right before they close the door behind them.
You were more used to his brutal reflexes than to his tender gestures. You actually preferred him being aggressive more. At least you could have predicted his movement. That's why you didn't even blink when he threw a blade at his pets.
"You wanted to see me." You start when you are alone. If you could impress him with anything other than your fighting skills and the ability to obtain various information by staying in the shadows, it would be that you never showed fear or insecurity. At least not to those who don't know you. Almost no one could read you. Almost.
However, Feyd saw that you were behaving differently. But he was tired of controlling himself around you. He couldn't do it anymore after tasting your lips, tasting your skin mixed with tears, and feeling your curves press against him. He wanted more. Much more than he ever got from you. And he was going to take it, whether you wanted it or not. He won't go crazy with lust for you... or at least not with as much longing for you each night as he used to.
"I did..." He stands up, and you're grateful he's at least wearing underwear as he walks over to his bar and pours a second glass of wine. He hands it to you and taps it with his own. He takes a few sips and looks at you. After a while, he sits down on his bed again and swirls his glass, playing with the remains of the wine. "Baron wants me to find a wife." He announces calmly, staring at you intently as he finishes his wine with one big sip.
You almost choke on your drink. You place your glass on the table and meet the careful gaze of his cold, blue eyes. You feel yourself starting to get hot with nerves.
"I beg you pardon?" You ask, still reeling from the shock of this sudden information.
"He wants me to find a broodmare who will bear my heirs since I am getting close to the appropriate age." He repeats, standing up gracefully. He approaches you, his steps slow and measured, as if he were approaching his prey in an arena. And for a moment, that's exactly how you feel. But you show no fear or any other emotion as he stops a few inches in front of you. You straighten up, your muscles tensing as you think about any answer.
"I… I can make the necessary preparations and check which high families…"
"Strip." He orders you. His tone is hoarse, leaving no room for any objection. He talks just as if he were asking you to pass him the dagger rather than to stand naked in front of him. As if it was an order he carried out every day and something you should be used to following.
"What?" You ask stupidly, unable to process what he said to you in your head.
"Have you gone deaf? Undress. Take your clothes off." He repeats mockingly. He crosses his arms, takes a few steps back, and leans against the wooden post of his bed as he watches you carefully, waiting for you to either obey his order or openly disobey him, giving him the opportunity to punish you... as if he even needed a reason to do so.
"My na-baron, I..."
"Exactly, Y/N. I am your na-baron. So follow my order. Now. I'm not in the mood for our games. You think I haven't noticed you've been playing hide-and-seek lately? I have given much worse punishments for such disobedience and attempts at self-indulgence. Take your clothes off, or I'll rip them from you."
For a moment, there is a deathly silence in his chambers. Only your breathing can be heard as you try to find any way out of this situation. But you can't think of anything. Your mind is empty, your hands are shaking a little, and all you can do is look at him, silently begging him to change his mind. A frown of impatience appears on his forehead, and you know you have to do something before he gets irritated and cuts you with one of his blades.
You sigh softly as you reach for the laces of your shirt. You take your time, slowly untying your bindings. Feyd devours every bit of skin you expose to him, and you swear you hear him hold his breath as your shirt lands on the floor. You get out of your shoes and socks very slowly.
Luckily, he doesn't comment on it and lets you get out of his clothes at your own pace. He knows he will win anyway. Tonight, he will finally stop playing cat and mouse with you and put his hands on what is rightfully his. So he savours every moment, making a plan in his head for what he will do to you tonight for this small act of rebellion.
He licks his lips as you stand in front of him in nothing but black underwear. His eyes take in your every curve, skin lesions, and scars that mark your warrior body. Oh yes. He was going to enjoy this night and finally unwrap his early birthday present.
"Good girl. You know where the bathroom is, right?" Without waiting for your response, he goes there, expecting you to follow him.
You swallow hard. You're glad that at least you managed to stay in your underwear and that you're not completely naked in front of him. You get out of your pile of clothes and leisurely follow him to the bathroom.
As soon as you enter, the door closes itself behind you. You sigh, the sweet smell of bath salts reaching your nostrils. But you don't feel so relaxed when the coolness of the bathroom and the black marble you stand barefoot on make you shiver and your nipples harden.
The na-baron's dark chuckle catches your attention. He's in a large, black bathtub, his hands resting on its edges as he enjoys the warm water, watching you closely, a spark of amusement shining in his icy blue eyes. He looks like a vulture waiting for the best moment to kill his prey.
"It had been a long day. Join me." He says, lifting his hand for you to take and step into the tub.
Having no choice, you obediently reach for his hand and release it as quickly as you can, sitting on the other side of the bathtub with your legs tucked under you so as not to accidentally touch him. He laughs, shaking his head in amusement.
"Not so far, my little mouse. Closer. I won't bite… well, not yet."
"I'm not a mouse." You snap at him. If you're going to die, at least die with dignity. Blinded by your anger at him, you sit on his lap before you can think it through. It's only his hardness pressing against your ass that makes you realize what a mistake you've made. You don't show your discomfort, though; you even lean against his chest, letting your head rest on his shoulder.
He laughs softly, wrapping his arms around you just as the skin of your back meets his chest. You feel like you're in a cage, even though he's trying to calm you down by lazily drawing patterns on the skin of your arms. Your underwear soaks up the water and sticks to you, making you feel even more uncomfortable.
"Hand me my dagger."
You much prefer receiving such orders from him. You get up from the bathtub to get away from him for a moment, but he stops you by grabbing your hips tightly. He shakes his head and nods towards the dagger, which is literally at his fingertips. You bite your lip, keeping yourself from talking back at him, and reach for the weapon, handing it to him. You do this carefully, not wanting to cut the skin of your fingertips with the very sharp blade.
He cuts through the fabric of your bra with surgical grace. You gasp in outrage but don't move, knowing full well that you are only millimetres away from him taking your blood. You don't have to turn around to know he's smiling cockily as he traces the tip of his dagger across your skin to your panties.
"You know I can take it off by myself?" You ask as he traces patterns with the tip of his dagger on your stomach, around your navel. You hold your breath as he rests his chin on your shoulder and pulls you closer to him, rubbing against your still-clothed ass. You learn the hard way that the rumours about his... greatness were true.
"You had your chance at the beginning, now it's my turn. You're lucky that I'm not taking it off of you with my teeth anyway." He growls in your ear. You shiver as he presses a wet kiss on your shoulder, peppering kisses on your skin, down to your neck, and down to your jawbone before he rests his chin on your shoulder again.
"Sorry for interrupting your fun, my na-baron." You growl as he hooks the tip of his dagger against the fabric of your panties.
"No worries; you will compensate me in another way." He says, cutting your panties. He throws them behind him and lazily presses the dagger against your jawbone, forcing you to turn your head to look at him.
You meet his blue eyes with yours. His irises are practically non-existent, giving way entirely to his dilated, black pupils. He stares at you hungrily, licking his lips. He looks lost and indecisive, as if he didn't know what to do first.
His other hand, the one not holding the dagger pressed against your neck and jaw, explores your body, caressing your skin as if it were some kind of precious silk. You sigh as he cups your breast, which, of course, fits perfectly in his hand. You want to punch him in the face, but the dagger at your throat reminds you that one wrong move could cost you dearly. So you take his hand in yours instead, stopping him from over-exploring.
"You know... I tried to stay away from you. From the first moment I saw you... fighting with those daggers of yours... you're not as graceful in dancing as you are with them in your hands, taking down all your enemies. But you are Bene Gesserit. I know you're dangerous. So damn dangerous... if I were anyone else, you'd use your voice on me and tell me to castrate myself. Or you could make me magically disappear by throwing myself off some tall tower just because I thwarted your plans or looked at you wrong. Surprised? You may live in the shadows, my little witch, but I won't miss anything you do. You know I have trouble controlling myself... so how can I do that when you're so damn irresistible? The fact that I've endured all these years and not gotten close to you the way I wanted—the way I dreamed so many times at night—is quite a success, don't you think?"
He massages your breast, playing with it. You bite your lip, holding back a moan as he pinches your nipple. He leans closer to you, pressing his nose against your neck and inhaling your scent deeply. He removes his hand from your breast and moves your connected body along your body. You gasp, tightening your grip on his as he brushes your clit gently with his fingertip.
"I… I should go." You mumble, squirming in his grip, which is, of course, pointless and only makes him groan in pleasure as your ass rubs against his hard, leaking member.
"Stay. You won't oppose your na-baron, will you?" The bastard knows well that you won't openly oppose him, and he uses it as best he can. He moves your joined hands to his length, forcing you to wrap your hand around him. He hisses, pressing the blade closer to your throat and tightening his grip on your hand as he guides yours along his length the way he wants. "Your skin is so soft… and that beautiful hair that you needlessly hide… you don't know how many times I imagined pulling you by it." He mumbles into your neck. The hand with the dagger now presses against your chest, only causing your heart to beat much faster. A wave of heat washes over you, your traitorous pussy clenching desperately as you hear his moans in your ear.
"Feyd..." You moan as his hand releases yours and works at your desperate pussy. He growls, feeling the warmth of your walls around his fingers and the wetness he caused. You remove your hand from his member and tighten your grip on his hand, trying to push him away from your private parts in a desperate attempt to regain control of the situation.
"Don't fight. Just give yourself to me, Y/N. Let me show you how much you've lost while trying to hide yourself from me in your shadows…" He growls, pressing the tip of the dagger to your nipple. You freeze, moaning as he becomes stiffened by the sheer movement of his blade.
He bites into your neck, making you moan loudly and throwing your head back. He licks and sucks your neck, rubbing his painfully hard cock against your pussy. The water splashes around you, some of it spilling out of the tub due to his sudden movements. A few inches deeper, and he would have slammed into you, bisecting you with his huge cock, which stood ready for you from the moment he saw you in your underwear.
"Can you feel it? Can you feel what you're doing to me? How hard I am because of you? It's like this every time you hand me my blade, perfectly balanced and sharpened, every time you meet all my needs without even communicating with me, you just know what I want by looking at me, my little witch. So tell me, who is a better partner for me than my right hand? Who can I trust more than you? Who should I fuck, full of my heirs, if not you?"
You don't respond; you can't find any words as your brain desperately tries to shout out the pleasure he's giving you and force you to resist him. Unsuccessfully. The warmth of the water, his body, his scent, and his precise, deliberate movements cut off your thoughts. Feyd is practically salivating at the sight of you so lost in lust and desire as he witnesses you lose control for the first time.
He throws away the dagger, which falls with a crash onto the marble floor. Neither of you care as he grabs your hips and, in one smooth, quick movement, turns you around so you can face him.
You only have time to draw in a quick breath before he demands your mouth. You moan into his lips as he kisses you with the same passion and intensity as he did a few weeks ago at the party after you won the fight. You try to pull away from him, but he holds you tightly, placing his hands on your back as he presses you against him. You don't stand a chance against his strength. You can resist him, but you know it won't be long before you collapse from exhaustion. You bite his lip until you draw blood, which only causes him to groan and have him grind against you, the tip of his cock teasing your entrance.
You gasp as he leaves your lips for a while and pulls your hair, exposing your throat to him so he can mark it even more. He sucks on your skin, littering it with hickeys as you feel him slowly move, positioning himself beneath you so that his member presses against the entrance of your pussy.
And just as he's about to join your bodies, to make you two one, to feel your hot, wet, tight walls around him, there's a knock on the bathroom door.
This time, he's the one who freezes, tightening his hold on you. You feel like he's making sure he hasn't misheard or imagined it in this heated moment between you, but when the knocking sounds a second time, he realises it's real.
You pray with gratitude for the soul of the fool who dared to interrupt him, because you know that even if it were something important, he would not live to see the morning.
"What?!" He growls furiously, not letting you go, not letting you move an inch from him, still believing that he can quickly get rid of the intruder and go back to ravaging you, maybe even fucking you while he talks to whoever is standing in front of that damned door. Though Feyd preferred to be fully focused on you when he took you for the first time. However, he was convinced that if he didn't feel you around him soon, he would go crazy. He is so close... all he had to do was push a little more...
"My lord na-baron. The Baron wants to see you. It's very important."
You see pure rage bubbling in his eyes. He growls, shifting you from his lap as he stands up. You look down as you see all of him very clearly, especially what you were exposed to a few moments ago. He throws a towel at you, and you automatically catch it. He wraps one around his waist before he comes back to you again and grabs your throat. He gives you a crazy, passionate kiss, stroking your neck and appreciating the marks he made before pulling away from you.
"We'll come back to it, little witch." He leaves you with that promise, closing the door behind him with a bang.
You hear him shouting something at his harpies, and you shudder at the thought of having to walk past them to get out of here. You lean back against the tub, still sitting in the now-cold water, as you slowly process everything that happened.
You succeeded this time, but you know you won't be so lucky next time. You could either accept... your new responsibilities and his expectations of you, or you could try to break free from him, risking your life.
It was a decision to be made in the privacy of your own chambers. For now, you let yourself lie in the cool water, fully aware that if you weren't interrupted now, he would fuck you silly, likely planting his seed inside you.
You ran away from the Bene Gesserit with him because you didn't want to be a whore, a vessel for their crazy breeding plan. Apparently, you just changed the owner of your womb. You had to do something if you didn't want to end up as originally intended—as the mother of the future Kwisatz Haderach.
Synopsis : Your mother Gauis Helen Mohiam, was Truthsayer to the falling empire. Raised among royalty, religion, manipulation and corruption, who else would be the perfect wife for the new Emperor Paul Atreides..Who you knew as the Fremen Demon
More here
“Paul Atreides is not dead, mother” You said, walking into the room your mother was in.
You didn’t miss the way she froze, her hand pausing its movement of writing, before she continued.
Always measured, never panicked.
For fear was the mind killer, that is what all Bene Gesserit were raised on. The mere idea of fear or panic was seen as weakness. They do not show such weakness.
“How many times must I tell you not to call me that, child”
Your mother’s voice was cold, unforgiving as it was always ways. Your mother had been Reverend mother at the Bene Gesserit school for many years.
But now she had moved up in the scale of things, she was Truthsayer to the Padishah Emperor himself, Shaddam Corinno IV. He was a quiet man, since aging being more easy to manipulate.
Ripe for the picking in terms of your mother. She did not advise, she dictated, but in a way that was hidden, so even the Emperor did not realise it.
“Have you nothing more to say?” Was your reply, your bright blue eyes contrasting the dark navy veil over your hair, and the cloaks over your body.
“You are part of the Breeding Programme, not my child, Girl”
“He will come for us all, you know of this? He challenges the emperor. If this is the full truth, the emperor will fall for his crimes” You said, voice louder in urgency.
“The emperor was always going to fall, child. He is weak minded, and old with no Heir to his name. He bore only daughters, only one lived to be a woman” She replied coldly, not once looking up from her writing.
“Then she was murdered at night, before she could birth her child. The Great houses claimed it to be the work of the Harkonnens…but you? You claimed otherwise” You said, a new unsettling look in your eyes as you stared at her.
“There was no sufficient evident for such a claim” She replied.
Her writing quickened, you noticed.
“You planned the demise of the Atreides” You said, breathlessly and accusingly.
“Of course I did. Leto Atreides led by his heart, too weak to gain such power, and The Harkonnens? Too bold to obtain such power, they surely too, will fall” She said.
Now, she had stopped writing.
You swallowed, staring down at her. Your mother had soon horrible things your entire life, but conducting a genocide brought a new sickness to your stomach.
“And Jessica? She was your student at the Bene Gesserit school. You claimed she was a vital vessel for our way” You said.
“She disobeyed orders. She was told only to bare daughters” Your mother cut in harshly. You could tell she would never truly get over such a betrayal.
“In disobeying she may have brought forth the one, have your forgotten?” You said, testing her.
“I forget nothing! That boy was nothing but an abomination forged out of Jessica’s own pride” she cut you off.
“Is, mother. Paul lives, now you must deal with the consequences” You corrected her.
“You believe you are not involved?” She said, with a tone that was mocking.
“How could I be? I thought I was not your daughter, Reverend Mother” You replied coldly, before turning, fixing the veil that had slipped down.
When you left the room, she did not continue to write.
You were too clever, she had realised this when you were only a child. You recognised things she did, things others would bypass, and you would question her instead of staying silent.
Questioning oppression and manipulation did not work for the Bene Gesserit.
The emperor had announced his desire to meet with the Baron Harkonnen on Arrakis, to discuss the letter he was sent by Paul Atreides, as well as the so called Fremen demon, the prophet on Arrakis that was responsible for destroying the Harkonnen Harvesting machines.
He was wreaking Havoc on them, and showing them up for the fools they were.
To you, the so called “messiah” was interesting.
The journey to Arrakis was tense, full of nerves for what was to come. The emperor spoke to no one, neither did your mother, then again, neither of them rarely spoke to anyone.
When the ship opened, the sun hit you all immediately. To everyone else, it was a nuisance, to you, it was a warm sensation that you were unaccustomed to.
You had never been to Arrakis before, but you’ve read much about it, learned about what the sisterhood had planted there all those years ago.
Lisan al-Gaib
That’s what they called him. The one who points the way. Some say he is the same one who the Bene Gesserit have been trying to produce for generations.
Some say he is close, some say he is already here
As you all began to walk off of the ship, the Reverend mother approached you “You must act with the upmost Poise, this is your chance”
You swallowed “Must it be him? That monster…”
She turned her head to you “It matters not what form he takes, he has the blood we desire, you do too, you must do your duty to our cause”
You stayed silent, staring into the distance. You sighed, lifting the orange veil to see the landscape better. The warm breeze brushed over you, and you could smell the spice.
In the distance there was a beige Rocky Mountain, surrounded by Sand dunes. You fell into a trance like state, staring at that mountain.
You felt like someone was watching you
You swore you saw figures move on top of the mountain, but before you could look any longer, the Reverend mother used the voice on you.
“Come here”
Your body reacted before your mind did, and when you snapped out of reality, you glared at her. She just kept walking, and reluctantly you followed her.
_
You weren’t surprised to see the emperor use the Sardaukar to strike down the Baron. You watched the man lay limp on the ground, and the na-baron Feyd only watched with a look of excitement.
He sickened you.
He caught your gaze, giving you a smile that sent shivers down your spine.
You looked away.
The attacks came loud and quick. The entire frame of the building shook, dust permeating every inch. The Sardaukar surrounded you all, as you waited for the prophet to show his face.
When he did, he was cool, his strides slow. The Fremen had knocked down the impendingly tall doors into the throne room.
Through the dust, he showed himself.
He wore a stillsuit, and his face hidden through cloth. As he came closer his eyes landed on you, and he walked past you all.
Instead he went to the Baron. He dropped to one knee, whispering something inaudible, before plunging his Crysknife into the large man’s neck.
Baron Harkonnen was dead, and good riddance.
You felt your mother tense, even she had not expected this. The Truthsayer to the Emperor had failed.
It satisfied you.
You pulled your veil down off of your face, feeling too hot. Your breathing was quick, yet no one could tell.
Years of training.
You watched with a poker face, as the Prophet they called Muad’Dib approached you. The Sardaukar lunged slightly as a warning.
But he stood in front of you.
You didn’t look away.
He spoke to the Fremen, who followed him like followed do a God. “Take the Emperor, Kill the Sardaukar.”
There was a beat of silence “Do not harm her”
His words made your lips part. He had been speaking in Chakobsa, the native language of the Fremen. But you had been taught all languages of the imperium, and so understood each word he said.
With one last meaningful stare, he left the room.
Then the Killing began
_
They kept you in the dungeons of the building. It was earily cold for a planet so warm. You clung to the cloaks draped over yourself.
“Who is he?” You asked your mother.
The Reverend mother was sat with an imposing darkness and for one reason only.
She had not expected this, she did not plan for this.
She had failed.
“Irrelevant” was her only answer.
“But-“
“Should he challenge the emperor, Feyd Raytha Harkonnen will fight in his stead. When the na-Baron wins, you will be a dutiful subject to him” The cloaked woman said, leaving no room for another’s opinion.
“He may not win, the Fremen may best him” You said quietly, peering up at the woman.
She was silent for a moment, eerily.
“A Fremen rat beating a trained na-baron? You think meekly” Was her reply, and she looked away.
You stared at her “Do you think so low of people?”
“Your compassion will get you nowhere, child. Grow up and do your duty” Was her cold response.
You gripped your own cloaks harshly. “I owe you no duty” you whispered.
She laughed at your words then, because to her they were amusing. “You have no power over me, without me at your side, you may as well join the Sardaukar in death” she scrutinised.
You turned away from her, silently asking yourself what you had done to get such a wicked cruel woman as your mother.
She didn’t even let you call her mother.
_
When the Fremen finally brought you to the viewing room upstairs, you felt as though you couldn’t breathe.
Would this be the moment of your death?
The emperor had a glare on his face, refusing to accept that his own army had been bested by what he deemed low, common people.
As you stood before the crowd of Fremen, they stared at you.
You were glad of your veil now.
The emperor demanded that this prophet answer for his crimes against him. “You’re facing a full invasion Fremen!” Emperor Shaddam spat.
You watched curiously, seeing the same figure that had looked you in the eyes, standing at the opposite end of the room. He was facing away from you. “How can you be so sure that the great houses are here for me?”
He turned then, and a hush fell over you all.
It was Paul Atreides.
Your lips parted slightly. You had met Paul at a young age, though you barely remembered that time.
But when your mother had tested him only seven months ago, you had been there, you had even conversed for a few minutes.
And here he stood before you, back from the dead.
“They may be curious to hear my side of the story, don’t you think?” Paul said.
He stalked closer to you four, his figure imposing and authoritarian. You could not take your eyes off of him.
“I am Paul Atreides, son of Leto Atreides, Duke of Arrakis” Paul said, his voice growing stronger with every word.
You glanced at the Emperor, he was speechless.
This gave you satisfaction.
“Gurney?” Paul said then, turning his head to the right.
“My lord” Gurney nodded.
“Send a warning to all ships, if the great houses attack, our atomics will obliterate all spice fields” Paul said.
There was an echo of gasps throughout the room. Spice was the most valuable thing in the universe, and it made travel possible.
Gurney nodded, disappearing to the side of the room which overlooked the landscape of Arrakis.
“You’re out of your mind” Emperor Shaddam spoke.
“He’s bluffing” Feyd-Rautha said with a stare.
His voice made you swallow, taking a step away from him.
Your mother spoke then “Consider what you’re about to do, Paul Atreides-”
“Silence!”
Your mother was sent back a foot, falling into the arms of the royal servants. Your own lips parted. You looked from your mother to Paul.
He could use the voice, not seen before in a male. Could he truly be the one?
“Abomination” Was all your mother could mumble out.
You glanced at Jessica then, who was already looking at you. The last time you two met, she was meek, fearing the Reverend mother.
Now she was Reverend mother to the Fremen, carrying a second child. She had an aura of confidence that was new as well.
Her striking blue eyes made you look away.
Gurney came back then “message sent, my lord”
Hearing this, Paul looked back to the Emperor, an enraged scowl on his face.
“As a servant of the imperium, you will bow at my feet!” The emperor spat.
“Your feet?!” Paul yelled incredulously.
You watched timidly, shook by the yell.
Paul walked closer then, like a predator that had cornered its prey, and was now toying with it “You’ll be lucky to keep your head” Paul promised.
He emperor said nothing for a moment before speaking “What is your plan them, hm? To kill us all”
“Not all of you” Paul relied coolly.
His eyes landed on you then, and you swallowed.
He took his time walking over to you, taking in your face. Though something was guarding it.
He pulled the veil over your hand, gentle in a way that would make one forget he had just threatened to kill people.
“I will take your hand in marriage, free you from the hell you live in” Paul said, his voice dropping to a softer tone.
Your lips parted, you felt the vibration of Feyd-Rautha stepping forward, but you couldn’t bring yourself to look away from the Duke.
The Reverend mother’s eyes widened at his words, she stepped forward “What is this madness you speak of? This girl is to marry the future Baron Harkonnen” She said coolly.
Paul’s eyes lifted only to glare at the woman, as if he speaking was the highest insult to him.
When he didn’t answer her, she turned to you “child! Stop this madness at once!” She ordered harshly.
Paul stepped forward then, as if acting as a boundary between you and the woman. “You will be freed from people ordering you around, dictating your life, but in saying that, this is a proposition, not an order”
You blinked “Why? Why are you asking me this?”
He paused then, glancing at the ground before answering truthfully “Because when I spoke with you on Caladan, it made me sick how you were treated. I see you in my dreams, I hear your voice at night, not plaguing me, guiding me. You deserve more”
His words made your lips part, as you stared up at him with your blue eyes that mimicked his own.
“Will you take my hand? Free yourself from the misery they bring?” Paul said, staring down at you.
You found yourself nodding “Yes” you said quietly. Unlike when the Reverend Mother used the voice on you, this was completely your decision.
And you chose freedom, you chose him.
“No, I’ve heard enough!-“ your mother began.
“Enough, or I’ll kill you on the spot” Paul threatened, the blood on his face becoming illuminated by the sun on Arrakis.
Paul looked back at you “You will be safe at my side, and we will rule together over the empire”
His words sent a chill down your spine, not in a nervous way.
He turned to the Emperor then, who had stood silent. “But you? You have to answer for my father”
“Do you know why I killed him? Because he was a man who believed in the rules of the heart. But the heart is not meant to rule, in other words, your father was a weak man” The emperor said.
Paul stared at him “Stand, or choose your champion”
He did not take the bait.
Feyd-Rautha stepped forward with a dangerous smirk “I am here, Atreides. I need a blade”
“Accept mine” The emperor spoke, staring at Paul.
Feyd-Rautha stepped closer “Perhaps when I kill you, I’ll take her as my wife, to show the imperium you followed your father in weakness”
Paul glanced at you, his eyes telling you to stay calm, and you did.
The fight was skilled, through, and almost took them both. But in the end only Paul atreides lived to see the next day.
Though he had been stabbed twice, he still walked towards the emperor with a limp, the blood on him and murderous look on his face only presenting him as even more frightening.
The Reverend mother gripped your arm painfully tightly. You swallowed, looking up at her. When Paul had reached you both, he glared at the older woman.
“Get your filthy hands off of her” He ordered coldly.
The Reverend mother gave you one last glare before dropping your arm harshly, leaving you close to trembling.
Though you did not.
Paul walked over to you then, his breathing uneven and laboured from the fight. He took your hands in his, and somehow you did not mind the blood.
“I will give you anything you ask for, you will rule by my side. So I must ask you, should I spare them?”
Paul was gesturing to the Emperor and the Reverend mother, you knew this.
That is why you stayed silent.
They both stared at you, the Reverend mother speaking “Say something girl” coldly.
For a long time you did not, and eventually you found yourself looking up at Paul.
And you nodded your head no.
Your answer satisfied him, and it reassured what he had always thought about you. You did have right, you did have strength, you just needed the right person to lead you.
And now you had him.
He nodded at your words, his hands reaching up to take your own as the two began yelling in hopes you would change your mind.
Paul turned to Stilgar then, mumbling in Chakobsa “Kill them”
They were dragged away, into the hall. You turned your head, swallowing. Paul’s finger guided your chin to return back to looking at him.
“You need not lay your eyes on filth, you are an empress now. It had to be done, so you can move forward” He explained in a low tone.
Gurney walked over then “My lord the great houses have denied your request”
Stilgar spoke then “We wait for your word, Mahdi”
Paul stared down at you, sighing before if saying “Lead then to paradise”
“Lisan al-Gaib” the thousands of Fremen chanted.
As the words danced in your ears, Paul leant down, pressing his lips against your own. You froze momentarily before kissing him back.
When he pulled way he leant his forehead against your own then. He blinked “We will win”
Summary: As the Na-Baron's proposed bride, you were simply too sweet for him and his bitter being. You were too innocent and pure to be tainted by the blood-stained hands of the Harkonnen heir.
Warnings: Sunshine x Grumpy Trope, Mature, 18+, P in V sex, Unprotected Sex, Oral Sex (F receiving), Fingering, Overstimulation, ¿Slight Rejection?, ¿Softer Feyd-Rauth?, Not Proofread
Word Count: 4,607
They say you were of great beauty and good breading, all things needed in a wife. Feyd-Rautha never sought out a love match; all he needed was a wife whose womb was suitable for taking his seed and producing his heirs. He saw meeting you as a dire chore, having to travel to your planet and seek out and court the girl whose task could be reduced to a simple broodmare. Feyd-Rautha grimaced at the bright sun on your home planet, a planet that resembled ancient Earth before it ultimately met its demise. Your father, the duke, stood with his duchess to greet and welcome him. He turned to your mother, a small fake smile on her lips as she was trying hard not to let her distaste show as she saw the man who they planned to marry her daughter too. Sickly pale and hairless, far from the standard of beauty your planet had.
“Na-Baron, welcome; we hope your journey was well,” your father greeted. The Na-Baron let him continue on with pleasantries as his eyes searched for you, whom he was tasked to court and marry. He wished to know if you were truly as beautiful as all had praised you. He wanted to deduce if you were somewhat worthy of all of this trouble he must go through. “Come, let us escort you inside, my lord. My daughter waits for you there,” He heard the duke say, and the Na-Baron felt annoyance at your self-importance, not even bothering to greet him as he had landed, having him be the one to come to you. He somewhat made up his mind that you were a spoiled child of one of the great houses. Covered in frills and frivolity. That whatever beauty they talked about and praised you for was just a cover to hide the fact that you were a tempestuous, spoiled brat who would certainly be a difficult wife for any lord.
Feyd-Rautha hid his confusion and annoyance as he was led to a place surrounded by greenery and colors that stung his eyes foe be was used to the bleakness and darkness of his home. “My sweet,” The Na-Baron heard your father call, and that is when he finally noticed you. Your back was turned from him, hair that he had none cascaded down your back and reached your waist that was cinched inside the bodice of your color-filled gown. Feed clenched his jaw and felt his breathing stutter as you finally turned your direction to him. Turning to the call of your father with your bright eyes searching for his frame and pink lips parted, you had a flower in your hand, your fingers rolling the delicate stem.
“Na-Baron, may I present you, my daughter,” Your father said and urged you to step closer. You licked your lips and curtsied lowly before the heir of house Harkonnen and your possible husband. “Welcome, Na-Baron,” You said lowly. Feyd was never one to be phased, especially not stunned, but that was the precise state you had placed him in. He thought the praises they gave of your beauty and nature was an exaggeration— they talked about you as if you were a propaganda, a savior, a goddess of beauty. And now, the heir of House Harkonnen understood their words and saw they spoke truth in every syllable uttered.
You grew more nervous with each moment the Na-Baron did not reply to your greeting. You felt rather unnerved with each passing moment he stared you down with his blue eyes, his plump yet pale lips parted as he assessed your frame. You swallowed thickly and turned to your father for some sort of comfort, but he, too, did not know how to take the Na-Baron’s silence. “My lady,” the Na-Baron finally rasped out, your skin glowing with gooseflesh at how his voice sounded— it was a sound you had not heard before, something different and interesting. All together, the Na-Baron was different and interesting. “I shall leave you two to talk and get to know each other better,” Your father said, and you willed your heart to calm as the intense stare of the Na-Baron was undoing your composure.
“How… how are your travels, my lord?” You asked after a pause of silence, the Na-Baron wanted to roll his eyes as you had the same trite question as your father. However, he still replied. When there was silence after his answer, he watched you fiddle with your fingers and unconsciously bite your lip as you thought of another topic of conversation. “Would you like a tour of the castle, Na-Baron?” You asked, and though Feyd had little to no interest in architecture and was actually quite tired from his travels, he still felt himself nod and walked beside you as you guided him through your home.
Feed listened to your sweet voice that sounded of harmonious melodies. Telling him of the history of your house and the decor the castle keeps. Noticing how your voice would grow slightly higher when you spoke of something that was of much interest to you. He also noticed how all who passed the two of you would bow in respect and you would offer them your sweet smile with a wave of your hand or a greeting on your lips. It should annoy him that when stood next to you, his imposing and intimidating demeanor seemed to be outshined by your charming and pleasing self.
You two paused by a mirror, a painting atop of it, which you explained the meaning of in great detail. Feyd-Rautha caught your reflection, the two of you of stark difference. There was quite literally an aura of lightness exuding from you, the sweetness in your voice, the innocence and naivety in your eyes so entirely different against the darkness he exudes, the black that stained and hardened him. Feyd-Rauth could not take his dark eyes from your lips, the way they moved as you spoke, how you would lick them when you paused from speaking, giving them an irresistible sheen and making them look more pink and evermore kissable.
The Na-Baron Feyd-Rautha never had the urgent desire to kiss anyone before. Yes, he had his darlings and concubines, but ever since he acquired them, he had never once kissed them first. When they started to grow slightly comfortable around him, they would kiss his lips, eager to make him kiss them back, but he never did. He did not find any sort of pleasure in kissing them. But with you… just by the look of your lips, all he wanted to do was grab your flushed cheeks and feel your mouth against his. “My lord?” You called as you had noticed that the Na-Baron was staring far off into the mirror, unresponsive to your previous calls. “Na-Baron?” You asked and gently took hold of his arm to asses if he was truly well.
Feud felt his whole body tingle as you placed your touch atop his armor-clad arm, a concerned look on your face that he had never been the receiver of. “Are you well, my lord?” You asked with a concerned tilt of your head. “Y-Yes,” He stuttered, what had you done to him? The ferocious and fearsome fighter that he was now far gone as you blessed him with your gentle touch. “I apologize; I may have droned on for too long… I shall escort you to your chambers so you may find rest,” You said with slight embarrassment. Lowering your gaze to the floor and removing your hand from his arm. Feyd did not know how to perceive you… you were demure yet somehow confident. You were genuine, yet not at all of you could be read and deciphered by him.
The Na-Baron once again followed you as you led him to the guest wing of the keep. His eyes were steadily at your frame, the way your hair swayed and bounced at every step you took. How you left behind a trail of your scent in the corridors, the Na-Baron greedily inhaled it and felt himself turn warm with a further push to his desires. As you had led him to his chambers to let him rest, you curtsied before him once more, the Na-Baron catching the most tempting view of your bosom. His mind and body were screaming at him to pull you into the chambers and have his way with you. To show you new dimensions of pleasures and ruin that he was certain you had never had before. But the Na-Barom did the genteel thing to do and gave a bow before watching you walk away and finally retire to his own chambers to rest.
When the next morning came, the Na-Baron found you in the gardens once more. You kneeling by a structure that houses water with a statue in the middle of it. He curiously leaned forward to inspect what you were doing. He watched as your fingers pushed floating flowers, and a small smile grazed your face. He stepped closer, announcing his presence in the reflection of the water. He expected you to grow startled; he was waiting for the fear to come to your eyes, but he was taken aback as you turned to him with a pretty smile upon your lips. The Na-Baron swallowed thickly as he felt his heart stutter at your smile. He never thought he had one— a heart, that is. But now it announced itself greatly as it throbbed loudly in his chest when you stood and stepped closer to him.
“I hope you had a good night’s rest, Na-Baron,” you said in your genuine tone. “I—I did,” Feyd clenched his jaw; he was stuttering again. What had you done to him? How could you have dismantled and discombobulated him with just a smile and your honey voice? “Would you care to join us to break our fast?” You asked and glanced toward the direction of the laid-out feast for the morning. The Na-baron gave a curt nod, and you led him towards the table where your parents were approaching.
Feyd gave them a nod as they greeted him whilst assisting you into your seat. He was truly doing the most here, being obliging to you and your kin just so the courtship would be a success and he’ll finally gain a wife and a womb. Feyd listened in to the chatter between you and your parents; you were truly quite talkative. If it were anyone else, he would have grown annoyed with the incessant blabbing that he would cut off their tongue. But somehow, with you, he did not mind it. He actually found it endearing, and he wouldn’t mind for his future days to be filled with your voice. Feyd watched as you filled his cup with a dark, steaming substance. “Would you like sugar and cream, Na-Baron?” You asked and Feyd eyed curiously the liquid in his cup. He did not even know what it was, and you were offering him other substances to put on it? He declined and raised the cup to his lips. Surprised at how he quickly grew fond of the bitter, dark liquid. He watched as you added three cubes of sugar and a dollop of cream to your own cup, altering the bitterness the Na-Baron relished in.
When the meal ended, you half expected that the Na-Baron would disappear with your father and discuss business; you were surprised that he was once again by your side. “Shall we continue on with the tour?” He asked, watching as you slightly frown. “Are you certain, my lord? I… I was afraid I had bored you yesterday with me droning on about the histories,” You say and feel your stomach fill with butterflies as the lord offers his arm for you to take. “No, I found it quite… educational,” He said and oddly felt his cold blood run warm at the smile that bloomed on your lips. You were quick to oblige his request, and his ears were filled with the soothing melody that was your voice.
Though your voice and presence were soothing, there was a pestering feeling inside the Na-Baron. With every moment you kept your arm on him, your smile pointed towards him, and your innocent eyes looking up at him, he felt entirely guilty—guilty and torn. Were you truly the one he was meant to marry? You? So pure and innocent, a pretty little flower that would wilt under the dark, harsh sun of Geidi Prime and its heir. He could not take it upon himself to be the one to ruin you— he could not be the bitterness that seeps into your sweetness.
As he sat across from you during dinner, a glass of bitter liquor in his hands, he had made up his mind. He could not be so cruel to be with you— you had turned his stony being soft for you and you alone. He wanted you, yes. Greatly so. With every moment spent in your presence, all he wanted to do was to take you and make every single inch of you his, but he placed great restraint upon himself as he could not tarnish your innocence. Perhaps in a few years, when the naivety of youth is gone in your eyes, and the sweetness in you has finally been diluted. Just not now.
Feyd knew he should keep his distance, but he humored himself and escorted you to your chambers. “Good night, my lord,” You said, peering up at him. As always, he was silent. In others, you would find their silence unsettling and off-putting but with the Na-Baron, you found peace in his silence. Serenity, no matter the warnings your mother repeated at how violent and harsh Harkonnens were. There was something about his difference that attracted you greatly, which horrified your mother when you admitted to her that you developed a liking towards the young lord and how you would not be opposed to that if a match was struck between the two of you.
You watched as his lips parted, and his dark blue eyes would trail between your orbs and your lips. You were hesitant as to where the scene would lead; you did not know if you should disappear into your chambers or stay rooted in your spot and wait for what would transpire between you and the Na-Baron. A long stretch of silence came, and you finally decided to move, a tad embarrassed as you had hoped that he would lean in closer and possibly kiss you… you have had the thought countless of time today. You let out a breath and turned away but ultimately were pulled toward Feyd-Rautha’s direction and finally felt his plush lips against yours. You tasted the bitterness of the brandy he had during dinner along with the cool taste of him… you feel cold hands cradle your cheek and the back of your head to keep you and your lips steady against his.
Feyd was proven correct at just how sweet you were. You were tooth-achingly sweet, inside and out. He pulled you closer and licked your bottom lip, expecting resistance, that your sensibilities would return pulled away. But you only let out a quiet moan and let him snake his tongue in. Feyd Rautha felt himself strain harder against his trousers, his hand that cupped your cheek trailed lower to your neck then down to your bosom. You gasped and pulled away, surprised by the immediate action. Feyd was dismayed himself as he gambled too much. He should not have dared to be so bold and quick to show all of his desires. “My lord, I…” you say in surprise, lips swollen and cheeks flushed. Eyes were flashing with a warning but deeper desire behind it. You breathed heavily as the Na-Baron backed away and stomped off, retiring to your room confused and filled with need.
The following morning came, and Feyd’s mind was made. He could not succumb to his desires and ruin you further. He was selfish, and his mind was muddled with want when he dared to kiss you and feel you against him. He knew if he spent another moment in your presence, his control would falter, and he would finally take what he had desired the moment he saw you in the gardens. “We respect your decision, my lord, however unfortunate it is,” Your father spoke as the Na-Baron stood in his study. The sun had barely risen, and the Na-Baron was quick to speak with his host and bid goodbye. “The treaties shall still take place, but a marriage is no longer required, my lord.” The Na-Baron stated, giving the agreement as a consolation for your planet. He watched as your father nodded his head. “I shall call on my daughter for the two of you to bid good bye,” Feyd wanted to protest, cowardly as he had hoped to leave your planet without another glance at you because it would make everything all the more harder.
You frowned as your father broke the news to you and your mother. You turned to the woman who birthed you and saw the relief in her eyes, urging you to say your goodbyes so the Harkonnen heir could finally leave. You chewed on your lip as you could conclude by the abrupt departure and change of mind of the Na-Baron. You entered your father’s study, and he quickly left to give the two of you privacy.
You stood by the wooden door, head hung low, and could not take it upon yourself to look at the man you had hoped to be your husband. “Goodbye, my lord, I… I hope you enjoyed your stay,” you said lowly, and Feyd clenched his jaw as he heard the hint of melancholy in your voice—melancholy that he was the reason for. “I have. Thank you for your hospitality, my lady,” He said and felt his body being pulled closer to you. A pull that he himself could not hinder. He stood before you and took your chin between his rough fingers, urging you to look up at him.
“Did I do something wrong?” You asked, guessing your startled state the other night is what had led him to the decision. If not that, it was because you were not as chaste as he may have wanted for a wife— that you were ever so enthusiastic to kiss him and let him hold you. Perhaps he thought you untamed or promiscuous which is the reason for his sudden departure. You licked your lips as he made no reply; you shielded your gaze and backed away, his hold on your chin gone. “My lord, if this is about last night, I—“ Feyd clenched his jaw as his mind made him remember the way your lips danced with each other, the way it felt to hold your soft frame against his. “It is not.” He gritted, and you immediately stopped speaking, sensing aggravation in his tone.
“Then, may I ask what is the reason?” You asked, wanting closure for the disappointment. You listened in to his strained breathing, your eyes catching the way his fists clenched along with his jaw. “I cannot marry you… I cannot be the one to ruin you,” He whispered the last part, his rasping voice struggling to utter the words. You tilted your head in confusion, “What? I do not understand, my lord,” You said and Feyd took in a harsh breath. “You are too pure— too sweet for me. You are not suited to be in the harshness of Geidi Prime let alone be a leader to it.” He said harshly, guilt coming to him as you stared at him with slight fear and offense. “You are too innocent and… and good for someone like me; this is for the best, my lady.”
You frowned at his words, “You cannot think me to be so delicate,” You defended yourself. The Na-Baron scoffed and shook his head, “You are delicate. You are like those flowers you are greatly fond of— just one wrong thing, and you’ll wilt. You will not wither away in my hands,” He stated, and you felt your lips twitch at how he compared you to flowers. “Is that it? You think I’m weak and too kind?” You asked and observed the way the Na-Baron nodded. “Then I am the perfect match for you, do you not think?” You said, stepping closer.
Feyd-Rautha was at a loss for words. “If I am weak… I would need someone strong to protect me… someone who is known to be the most skillful warrior in the universe… someone like you,” You whispered and dared to take hold of his cold hand. The Na-Baron felt his heart announce its existence once more, loudly thrashing inside his chest. Your scent invades his senses and makes his knees weak. His gaze turned from looking into your enchanting eyes and then to your luscious lips. “If I am too kind, then I would need someone fearsome so people would not take advantage of me and my good nature… I would need someone ruthless as they say you are,” You whispered, pressing your bodies closer, making him see that you, too, desired him. You feel his length straining against his trousers and perfectly settle upon your stomach, your cheeks going flush at the look of great wanting in the dark eyes of the Na-Baron.
“If I am too sweet… then I need someone bitter to balance me… I need someone like you, my lord. I want you.” You whispered, slowly going to the tip of your toes to indicate you wished for the kiss. The Na-Baron got the hint and smashed your lips. Your lips fervently danced against each other, the Na-Baron kissing you as if you were the air he needed in his lungs. “You want me?” He breathed as you both parted for air. “I do, Na-Baron.” You said. Truth in your tone. You feel wetness pool between your legs at the growl that left his throat, his lips meeting yours once more. You guided his hand to cup your bosom, just as he had wished to do so the night before. You moaned against his lips as he kneaded your chest through the soft bodice of your gown.
You feel him guide you to your father’s desk. Perching you upon the stable wooden table and placing himself between your parted legs. Your breathing heaved as his lips were placed on your neck, the Na-Baron biting your flesh and soothing it with his tongue. You turned your head to the ceiling as you felt him hike up your gown, his cold hands leaving fiery heat with each touch. “Say it again,” Feyd demanded as his hands squeezed the plump flesh of your thighs, the heat from your core radiating and calling for him. “I want you, Feyd… I need you, please,” You pleaded and placed your lips to kiss his neck, soft lips kissing his pale flesh, teasing the ball on his throat.
Your eyes widened as the Na-Baron pulled away, watching in shock as he went to his knees and placed his strong hold on both of your thighs, urging them to part further so his lips could be met with your cunt. You gasped as you felt him push aside your small clothes and lick your slit with his talented tongue. “So fucking sweet,” he groaned and buried his head in your needing cunt. You bit down hard at your lip as the moans you wanted to spew would surely be heard by those who stood and passed outside. “My lord,” You cried as you felt him sucking upon your pearl and his cold finger teasing your entrance. “Feyd… please!” You pleaded as you wanted to feel more. The Na-Baron hummed and obliged your request, placing a finger in your tight cunt. You hear him spew out fouled words and praises, amazed as he watches your wet cunt squeeze tightly around his fingers. “You take my fingers so well, my sweet… now let us see how you’ll manage when it is my cock.” You whimpered as he abruptly stole his pleasuring fingers away as you were on the verge of climax.
Your eyes were hooded with lust as you watched the Na-Baron greedily suck your essence from his fingers. You felt the urge to close your parted legs to seek out friction at the way he undid his trousers and set his manhood free. Your lips parted as you saw the whole of him, throbbing and pink… the head of his length releasing sheer grayish beads that indicated how much he wanted you. Feyd growled at how shamelessly you looked upon his length, want, and lust, the only thing evident in your eyes. He smashed your lips once more and positioned himself at your entrance, the tip of his cock gliding between your glistening folds. He pushed his way in, and he heard your sharp intake of breath, and whimpers of pain quickly followed. “This what you wanted…” Feyd gritted. A thin sheen of sweat all over his body at how you clenched tightly around him. “Yes, this is what I want.” You said, trying to prove to him that you were not as delicate as he had made you out to be.
It took a moment before he was fully sheathed inside you. Both of you already panting. When Feyd slowly moved, he watched as your face contorted in pain, kissing away the tears that fell from your eyes as he took away your innocence. Feyd hissed as you clenched around him, finally feeling pleasure, your mouth spewing out sweet moans and calls of his name. “Look at you… my sweet, little wife, so pleasured by my cock,” The tears of pain turned to pleasure as you feel your peak quickly building up again. Feyd claimed your lips and bit down harshly to draw blood, curious to see if even your blood was as sweet as your being; it was. You moaned against his lips as your peak found you, your wetness doubling along with your sensitivity, but that didn't phase the Na-Baron. He only continued to pound at you at a pace that would surely leave you unable to walk and sore for days to come.
“Feyd, please…” You pleaded for something you did not know. All you knew was you were about to come once more, ready to cry out the name of the man who provided you with such blinding pleasure. The Na-Baron could usually last for hours, but with the way you clenched around him and how you sweetly moaned and called for his name, it was a miracle that Feyd had not spilled his seed the moment he pushed the head of his cock inside you. “Will you come again, my sweet? Will you come around my cock again?” Feyd hummed as his thumb circled the pearl in your cunt, making your eyes roll back in pleasure.
“Yes…yes— oh yes!” You cried as you came, clamping around the Na-Baron’s length so tightly that he, too, joined you in your climax. His dark seed filling you and taking root. You two breathed heavily, Feyd hunching over you, who was perched upon your father’s desk. “Still too sweet and pure for you?” You asked in between breaths, watching as Feyd-Rautha wickedly smirked as his bitterness seeped into you and how his hands had tainted you. Perhaps he did need sweetness in his bitter life.
