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.
ೃ࿔ SAVAGE BONDS part I 『 feyd rautha x atreides!reader 』
summary: destined to one another since conception, your very life belongs to feyd rautha. as a token of good will you are sent to the strange planet of giedi prime a week before your wedding ceremony, only to learn that it is far more hostile than you imagined it would be. a failed assassination attempt has tempers flaring and sparks flying when it is decided to be safer to sleep alongside feyd. you hate to admit it, but he has played the part of a "protector" better than the guards who were tasked to watch over you. whilst you have been dreading this union all of your life, feyd has been anticipating it. meeting you as children had left him awe-struck. . . and a bit obsessed.
warnings: !SMUT HEAVY IN FUTURE PARTS!, feyd is super overprotective in this fic and kills multiple people in your honor, blood and gore, it's a dark romance folks, political marriage, forced proximity, temporary unrequited love, a lil dubious consent in some scenes, there's a lot of talk about breeding, enemies to lovers (in your mind, not his), there's a "who did this to you" scene, knife play, blood kink, breeding kink heavy, lots of scent marking/marking. (needs to be edited, so please excuse any temporary errors!)
word count: 5.3k
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The ancient walls of Castle Caladan were a fortress, the long winding halls a labyrinth to those unfamiliar with its layout. You had tried feigning sleep when you had been made aware of the surprise guest’s arrival, a one “reverend mother”- as your mother referred to her. The cool air from the hallway nipped at your exposed arm, which currently hung limply over the side of the bed.
“She’s even smaller than your son, Jessica.” The voice sounded more like a wheeze- and it certainly didn’t belong to anyone you had ever met before.
“As I’ve already said, the Atreides are slow to grow.” Your mother’s tone didn’t hold even a semblance of a bite to it, not like you expected. She was usually fiercely protective of you and your brother.
Your finger twitched, causing the woman to stifle whatever disapproving comment she was about to make. Being caught eavesdropping like this certainly wasn’t ideal, but you found it impossible not to be curious.
“She really is just like her brother,” More like he was more like you. You’d always been the rowdy one of the two. Paul must have been listening in as well, and you imagined that he was more insulted at the comments of his lack of height and muscle than you were. “The little rascals.”
There was a beat of silence before the woman began to crone again. This time you opened your eyes just a sliver, staring into the dark abyss of your room so that you could make out the shapes of your mother and the stranger.
“Rest now. Both you and your brother need to be prepared to meet my Gom Jabbar.” The reason couldn’t be pinpointed, but there was something about her tone that filled you with dread.
Your mother woke you up the next morning, bright and early.
Not even the breathing exercises that your mother had taught you had been able to calm you down last night. The darkness had swallowed you whole, which resulted in a dreamless sleep that left you feeling just as unrested as you had felt the night before. Your mother noticed your hesitations, the skirts of her dress dragging against the stone floor as she moved in the direction of your closet. The dress that she picked out for you was one of your more official garments, the red hawk of the Atreides crest proudly sewn onto the right breast.
“Did you sleep well?” She questioned as she laid the dress neatly onto the edge of the bed, urging you to stand once her hands were free.
You blinked at her, nervously brushing your hands along the soft cotton of your nightdress. Your voice felt stuck in your throat, but you still managed to lie.
“Yes, of course.” Your tone was flat, and for once she didn’t question you on the reasoning. She knew exactly what had you feeling so uncomfortable in your own home.
Gom Jabbar. Gom Jabbar. Gom Jabbar.
What exactly did the old woman want from your family? Lady Jessica was a Bene Gesserit, which could only mean that this woman was a higher up, sent to pay you and your brother a visit. You knew nothing about any “coming of age” rituals.
Paul barged into the room, dressed in his finer clothes as well. He leaned against the wall of your room, lips pursed as if he was deep in thought. You tilted your head to the side, leveling him a worried glance. He simply shook his head, and you knew at once that he wasn’t trying to dismiss your worries.
‘Not here. Later.’ His expression told you, and for once you obeyed.
“The reverend mother is waiting on the both of you. Paul, get out of your sister’s room so she can get ready.” She commanded, her tone leaving no room for whining or disobedience.
He groaned, pushing himself off of the wall so that he could head back out and into the hall. You shrugged out of your dress quickly at the hurried insistence of your mother, allowing her to do up the clasps of the dress for you.
“Who is she?” You asked simply, brushing your hair to the side so that she could get a better grasp of the dress.
“She was my teacher at the Bene Gesserit school and now she is the Emperor’s Truthsayer.” Your mother sighed out your name, turning you quickly so that you were facing her. “You need to do exactly as she says. There is no room to be prideful today, do you understand?” Her eyes were pleading, and you knew that she had your best interests in mind.
You and your mother walked wordlessly out into the hall, catching up with your brother who was busy running his fingers along the uneven stone walls. You flashed a quick look at your mother before jogging to catch up with Paul, taking the hem of his sleeve into your hand.
“What do you know?” You whispered, turning your head so that you could look at your mother. Much to your surprise she seemed to be in no hurry to separate the two of you.
“I’ve had dreams about her before,” He whispered, and you had to pick up your pace to keep up with his strides. “And mother told me this morning that I have to tell her about my visions.”
Your mouth went a bit dry at the realization that this woman truly was here just for you and your brother. What is the Gom Jabbar and what did it entail? There was no telling.
“She’s in my morning room, you two.” She called out after you.
Jessica caught up, leveling the both of you a disapproving motherly look that had the two of you slowing your strides to match hers. She seemed a bit hesitant, eyes flickering between you and your brother and the closed door.
The “reverend mother” sat in one of the tapestried chairs, her arms perched on either side of the armrests as she watched the three of you come in. The view behind her was beautiful, the sprawling, green farmlands of the Atreides family holding on full display through the large windows behind her. You glanced at your brother, eyes widening when you realized that he was already looking at you. He bowed in her direction and you followed his lead.
“They are a cautious bundle, aren’t they?” The witch-like woman croaked, looking between the two of you.
“As they have been taught, your reverence.”
In this room, here in front of this woman, Jessica was no longer the Duke’s concubine nor your mother. She was reduced to that of a pupil in the face of her teacher. You kept yourself from fidgeting, clasping your hands in front of you. You fought the urge to reach out and grab your brother’s hand, as the two of you so often did when faced with anxiety as children. Fear hadn’t regressed you to that of a blubbering child in years.
Your mother also seemed to fear the woman before her. There was something in her tone that led you to believe that whatever she was here for, it surely wasn’t a pleasantry. Your brother was tense at your mother’s other side, jaw tense as he stared the reverend mother down.
“Teaching is one thing, but there are some things that cannot simply be taught,” Paul’s eyebrows furrowed as she spoke, and as if she was dismissing a servant of the castle, she waved your mother off with a flick of her wrist. “You and your daughter leave us. It will be her turn soon.”
For the first time that morning your mother hesitated, eyes softened as she looked upon her son.
“Your reverence, I-” She began, but was cut off before she could finish whatever it is she was going to say. Surely it was meant to be an objection.
“Jessica, you know that this must be done.” Her voice held a tone of finality. There was no room for your mother to try and wiggle the both of you two out of this trap.
“Yes. . . of course.” Your mother straightened, turning towards both of you.
“This test. . . It’s very important to me, you two.” She spoke in a hushed voice, eyes still fearful.
“Test?” The two of you questioned at the same time, looking at one another in concern. You were confused, even more so than you were before.
“Remember that you’re the duke’s son.” And with that your mother was grabbing your arm, pulling you in the direction of the door.
“I suppose that it is my turn?” Your voice shook with anger as you practically tore the door off of its hinges, anxious to take your brother’s place. His cries and whimpers did not go unheard, even with the thick wood separating the two of you.
Looking at him now, his right arm still shaking from the pain, was like being slapped across the face.
“Right you are, girl. Jessica, please escort your son out of the room.” There was a silvery glint in her bright eyes- a challenge. She could sense it in you.
Your mother didn’t interrupt this time, and without any words exchanged the door closed. Your brother was too shaken up by whatever had taken place in that room to fully comprehend that the same thing was going to happen to you. He tossed a terrified glance over his shoulder at you just before the heavy doors closed. The sound of it echoed around the room, pulsing in your chest as you tried to steady the adrenaline pumping through your veins.
“Your future. . . do you know what is expected of you?”
You eyed the black box that sat next to her as you began closing the distance between the two of you. The question she had asked. . . it was a touchy subject with you. Of course you knew. A day didn’t go by that you weren’t mortified by the prospect of your future. You only had three short years to live and enjoy before you would be forced to abandon your family to join hands with another one.
“Of course I do. It is my duty to marry.” Your voice had a bite to it, your eyes unwavering as you stared her veiled face down.
“It is your duty to marry a Harkonnen. It is an honor to be the only reason that these two great Houses are allies. Your heirs will be powerful beyond comprehension.” The way she spoke. . . she truly believed the shit she was spouting.
It was impossible to consider marrying Feyd an honor. It was an ever-present looming threat.
“Put your right hand in the box.” She commanded, nodding her head in it’s direction.
It seemed harmless enough, nothing more than a metal box. You bent your head ever-so-slightly, trying to have a look inside. It appeared to be a pitch black, endless void. No beginning or end in sight.
You did as you were told, biting the inside of your cheek to stop yourself from muttering anything too disrespectful under your breath. If Paul’s screams were anything to go off of then this was going to be painful. Still, you were shocked by how cold the box was. You wiggled your fingers a few times, feeling the metal encasing them. Slowly a tingling sensation began, almost as if they were falling asleep.
“You’ve heard of animals chewing off a leg to escape a trap? There’s an animal kind of trick. A human would remain in the trap, endure the pain, feigning death that he might kill the trapper and remove a threat to his kind.”
The tingling sensation somehow melded into. . . heat. No, not heat. Burning. It felt as though you had your hand held up to a bright flame. You flinched, but froze when you finally noticed that the reverend mother was holding something against your neck. Your eyes flickered the best that they could to her hand, not wanting to turn your head.
“What I hold at your neck is the Gom Jabbar. The tip of the needle is dipped in poison. Remove your hand from the box and I will plunge it into your neck.”
The palm of your free hand began to sweat, the gravity of the situation finally landing on your shoulders. You would be forced to endure the pain and there was nothing that anyone outside of the doors could do. No guards had come to protect your brother when it was his turn, and no matter how emotional your mother had gotten whilst hearing his screams she still hadn’t rushed in after him. You could truly die here in this room.
“Why are you doing this?” You urged, wincing again as the burning continued to worsen.
Now it felt as though you were almost touching a flame, fingers dancing dangerously close. It wasn’t just uncomfortable now but painful.
“To determine if you’re human. Now be silent.”
Meant for greatness, yet stifled before her prime.
It was impossible for your clipped wings to take flight. The Bene Gesserit had instilled in you your purpose from a very young age, letting it be known that you were little more than cattle to be sold off to breed. The whole arrangement was dehumanizing, but this was the way of galactic high society. Every House had been developed by the close, watchful eye of the Bene Gesserit. Your mere existence was a result of a centuries long breeding program, so how could you ever expect for your own life to be any different?
Every child, especially in their naive youth, dreams of greatness. There was a point in time where you had hoped to mean something. There were differences to be made, rules to be broken, wars to be raged- but you would never be at the helm of any of it. But Paul. . . Paul was different.
“You know something that I don’t.” You weren’t asking Paul, rather telling him what you already knew.
Where you were used to your brother pulling no punches, he had been overly cautious with his treatment of you during training today. For a second he just stared ahead blankly at the wall, and you wondered whether he would try to lie. The older you’ve gotten, the stranger other people’s treatment of you has become. Women were little more than something to be owned. It was a hard lesson to learn and was one you were still grappling with.
Your femininity were the chains that bound you. And what of your ambition? It was currently acting as the flames licking at your boot heels. Soon you feared that it would fully engulf you; become your undoing.
“Tell me.” Your lovely features crumpled, and as childish as it was you found yourself giving his arm a slap.
He jumped at the sudden contact, eyes widening as he turned to face you after what felt like an eternity of prolonged silence between the two of you. The hard flooring felt cool beneath your legs as you stretched them out beneath you, and for a second you found it hard to keep yourself up in a sitting position. The world felt unsteady beneath you, both literally and figuratively.
Paul didn’t have to say anything at all. You looked, you saw, you felt, you understood. Your shared connection had nothing to do with your genes, rather it had to do with your likeness. Two bodies, two minds, but one soul. Your twin’s features crumpled, mirroring that of your own as he pushed a few strands of dark hair away from his face.
“So there is nothing I can do? My fate is sealed.” Your lips felt numb as you spoke.
Your brother’s visions were more frequent than they had ever been before. “Horrors”, he’d described them.
“If there was something I could do. . .” He started, turning quickly to face you, tucking one leg beneath himself. “My hands are tied. Mother and father’s hands are as well.”
Hiding you away or knowingly allowing you to escape your duties would be seen as an act of treason. You’d be putting your parents and their status in danger, and no matter how desperate you were to get out of any sort of marriage pact, it was far too late. Since the very moment you were conceived, this was what you were meant for.
“When will the orders come down, you think?” You pulled your legs up to your chest, wrapping your arms around them tightly.
You wished that you could stay like this forever, protected from the rest of the world. If only you hadn’t been born as twins at all. You wanted so badly to be like Paul.
But the galaxy didn’t work like that. You were not fortunate enough to get what you wanted.
“Soon.”
You felt comforted by the hand that he placed on your shoulder, and even more so when he kept it there until you felt as though you were able to stand up.
You were to marry into House Harkonnen. That was your purpose; to unite the feuding houses and birth powerful offspring. You had met Feyd once before, but only for a fleeting moment. It hadn’t been awkward- no, back then the two of you hadn’t cared enough to pay any mind to the looming threat that was your betrothal. You’d been too young back then to fully grasp the severity of the situation.
You remembered being shocked by his size. He towered over Paul, appearing to be years older than he really was. His hair had been dark back then, thick and slightly curly.
He had only just been taken under his uncle’s wing at the time. The environment of Giedi Prime had yet to fully sink into the young boy. The Harkonnen’s looks had always been startling to you, no matter how many times you’d been exposed to it. They were dark creatures, brooding, hairless with skin as pale as milk- not to mention violent.
The desperate way that Paul had clung to you was not lost on you. You let him squeeze you as tightly as he needed, your arms locking around his back. This meeting would change everything. In a matter of moments your life as you knew it would be taking a drastic turn, and not for the better.
You’d made that very same trek to the parlor room a million times. This was your ancestral home- had been in your family longer than you thought was conceivable, and yet this felt new to you. Wrong. The shadows from the windows were casting strange lights on the wall beside you, and your footsteps sounded muffled in your ears as your pounding heart nearly deafened you. Your father’s hand brushed against your palm a few times, his attempt at showing you physical comfort without causing any sort of scene. You knew that this was Feyd-Rautha’s right.
You were Feyd-Rautha’s right. That simple fact alone was enough to send you reeling, that morning's breakfast churning in your stomach.
“It will be fine.” Your mother’s fingers shaped the words at her side, a comforting and silent presence.
Your parents had always protected you. They had taught you well in all aspects of life. She was right. You had to trust yourself just as much as you trusted them. This will be fine. You will survive.
But god, you wanted to live.
Your worst fear was being locked up like a caged animal, only taken out to be played with or paraded around. You didn’t want to be somebody's little wife; you were no homemaker or bed warmer.
‘I am better than this.’ You thought to yourself, your hands balling into fists at your sides.
As the double doors began creeping open, you felt the sudden urge to run the opposite direction, your parents be damned. The feud between House Atreides and House Harkonnen would surely become deadly if you were to turn your back on the promise now, and that was the only thing that steeled your feet. You stood, back straight and hands clasped tightly at your front.
You looked to be a pillar of strength, but oh- you were so close to crumbling. Your father took a step past the threshold, eyes hard as he bowed his head respectfully in the Baron’s direction. There was still time to turn around. The door was right there, and you were sure that you could commandeer a ship. You’d piloted a few times before in your life, and while you weren’t the best, you were certain you could get yourself the hell off of Caladan. You shuffled your feet, eyes wide as you looked up and caught your mother’s gaze. Her lips were parted, and you could tell that she was trying to decipher your expression.
“What are you doing?” Her hand moved quickly at her side, the flowy gauze-like material of her skirts hiding her frantic movements from the visitor’s view.
Nothing. You were doing nothing. There were no options yet. If you fled then the insubordination would fall back on your parents. If you downright refused then the outcome would be the same. There was nothing you could do but keep your mouth shut and try not to show the Harkonnen even a semblance of vulnerability.
Disdain rolled off of you in waves as you breezed into the parlor, eyes locked on the side of your father’s face as he conversed with the baron. Tensions were high, even now. No pleasantries were being exchanged, that you were sure of. The Harkonnen’s stark black attire was a startling contrast to their pale skin. There, in the middle of two other men, whom you were sure were present for reasons of protection, was Feyd.
He looked the same as the rest of them. Hairless, blue eyes dripping with something that could only be described as malice. Gone was the curly haired child that you remembered. In his place stood someone unrecognizable to you. You wanted to question what the Baron had done to Feyd, but you already knew. Perfection was expected on Geidi Prime.
He had shaped Feyd into the very likeness of perfection. The once dark haired boy was now a walking, talking machine; not even a dead leaf echo of the boy you met all those years ago.
You tried to map out every single one of his microexpressions, searching desperately for any sign that he might disapprove of the predicament the both of you had found yourselves in. He tilted his head to the side, observing you with a horrifying level of concentration. The Baron began to speak, saying something that you didn’t care enough to listen to. You were too distracted by the terrifying man before you.
“She will come back home to Geidi Prime with us. No objections, correct?”
You were marrying him out of an obligation, this he was already privy to. He had seen the reluctance written plain across your face as you’d entered the room. You’d wanted to run. Away from him, away from your responsibilities- and he could not blame you for it. His understanding stopped there though, simply because this proposal wasn’t going against his own wishes.
“The wedding isn’t taking place for another week.” The Duke didn’t seem to like the idea of his unwed daughter leaving his side.
Feyd fought back a smile, having known that the Baron’s sudden request would have this effect on the Atreides family. He watched you squirm like a bug under a magnifying glass, your hand moving at your hip. For a second he thought that you might be tugging at the seam of your dress, writing it off as nothing but a nervous tick- but then he saw the way your mother’s eyes followed those movements.
The two of you were communicating.
“That may be so, however I think that it is only right that your daughter,” Baron Vladimir motioned in your direction. “Becomes better acquainted with Feyd. You don’t agree?”
His uncle decided that it was best to test the boundaries of this alliance. He was pushing the Duke, seeing how far he could get. Leto’s lips twitched, his eyes flickering thoughtfully towards you. Feyd was finding it hard to pay attention to anyone else other than you in the room. He’d spent years imagining what you would look like as an adult- dreamt about it. He’d eagerly been awaiting this moment, counting the days that he could finally be reunited with you.
It wasn’t just because he had been promised powerful heirs. It was the thought that someone was fated to marry him. Since before he was even conceived, you had always been promised to him. That idea had been put into his head since childhood. You were the constant topic in his mind, a person that was unavoidably meant to be in his life for the rest of his days.
In a strange way he had loved you since he was but a child.
Seeing you for that first time had been better than he had anticipated. You were a beautiful little girl, but now? The child that he had met all those years ago did not hold a candle to the grace and brilliance of the woman that stood before him. Nobody else could ever compare. You didn’t have to fall for him right now, he was content with that. Hell, you didn’t even have to tolerate him.
He would find pleasure in wearing you down. He was going to make you love him.
I must not fear. Fear is the mind killer. Fear is the little-death that brings total obliteration.
The adrenaline had run its way out of your system, leaving you cold and alone on a planet that was so incredibly alien to you, you weren’t sure how you’d ever be expected to adjust. Even the oxygen felt different in your lungs- the sweet, acrid smell of chemicals tinging the air around you. It was nothing like your home on Caladan. Your home was a stone castle, but this? This was a cold, black fortress.
You weren’t sure if it was meant to keep people out. . . or in.
You thought back to that fateful day with the reverend mother.
“You’ve heard of animals chewing off a leg to escape a trap? There’s an animal kind of trick. A human would remain in the trap, endure the pain, feigning death that he might kill the trapper and remove a threat to his kind.”
You couldn’t chew your leg off to be free of this. No, you had to lay in wait. Only then could you strike if the situation called for it.
“Striking” could wait until tomorrow though. For now you wanted to rid yourself of the anxiety. Sleep was the only cure you could think of.
“Is the room to your liking?” That husky voice of his was already grating on your nerves.
Feyd had only attempted to speak to you a few times and already you were sick and tired of his presence. He was a constant reminder that you would never know what it was like to be free. Then again, was anybody in the galaxy truly free? Feyd sure seemed to be carefree in his current position.
His tone felt off, like he was toying with you.
“I would be far more pleased about my new living quarters if you were to leave.” You said simply, pulling the slate gray blanket up and over your chin.
You weren’t sure if it was due to his ill-breeding, but he didn’t seem to care that you were in nothing but your night dress. He walked into the room in long-legged strikes, letting the door shut behind him. Never before had the two of you been alone together, not since you were children at least. If you were back in your family home you would feel safer during a moment like this.
You were in his territory now, meaning he had full reign over everything. Your father and family name couldn’t protect you on Geidi Prime.
“You’re in quite the rush to be rid of me,” He didn’t falter for even a second as he moved to sit down on the edge of the bed, leaning back against the plush mattress with a small sigh. “If I didn’t know any better, I would think that you didn’t like me.” He didn’t seem upset at the notion of you disliking him. In fact, there was a glint in his eyes. That same sort of silvery glint you’d seen in the reverend mother’s eyes all those years ago: a challenge.
This was nothing but a challenge to him. You were a conquest, and you detested that. Your stomach soured, your face becoming pinched as you glared at him. This was all too much too fast. You were in the comfort of your own home not even four hours ago, and now you were expected to make small talk with the source of your life-long discontent.
“And what of your concubines? Could you not pester them tonight and give me a moment's peace?”
“I dismissed them from their duties, permanently, weeks ago.” He said simply, his fingers running along the cotton of the comforter.
“What?” You’d never heard of such a thing.
“Spending time with them would be a waste.” His blue eyes flickered up to meet your eyes. “Acquiring concubines had just been a show of status.”
It took you a few moments to process what he was saying, the burning hatred you had felt just moments ago flickering out into a dull flame.
“Why would spending time with them be a waste? Am I expected to spend that much time with you?” A horror, truly. You had hoped that you’d be able to get away with spending a night or two a week with him, if only to achieve the Bene Gesserit’s goal of siring an heir.
“A waste of time. A waste of seed,” He looked at you pointedly, his lip pulling up into a smile that revealed more of his black teeth. “And both of those things are important to me.”
Your stomach hollowed out as you were once again reminded of what was expected of you. You had a week to prepare mentally for your wedding night, which you weren’t sure was enough.
“And what happened to the concubines? Are they still being housed here?”
“Why? Are you jealous?” He was smiling even wider than he was before.
A shiver ran through you as you noticed how predatory his body language was- you felt like prey under his haughty gaze. It was hard to believe that Feyd had been administered the Gom Jabbar test and passed.
This man was no human. He was an animal, that you were certain.
“Wickedly.” Your tone was flat and noncommittal. Even now, you never saw Feyd as a potential lover.
The man that was your so-called “destiny” was also your jailer.
“Well then you’ll be happy to know that they no longer live here. . . or anywhere, for that matter.” He sat up, rolling his shoulders back to stretch his broad muscles.
The blood drained from your face as you stared up at him from your spot on the bed. He must have felt the weight of your gaze and turned his head, his eyes alight with. . . pleasure. Violence was as ingrained in him as breathing was. It was his life. Standing before you was the prince of death- pale, striking and terrifying.
Animal, indeed.
I will face my fear. I will permit it to pass over me and through me. And when it has gone past I will turn the inner eye to see its path. Where the fear has gone there will be nothing. Only I will remain.
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A/N: this chapter was plot heavy, I know, however it was crucial to give you guys some background information so that I can better build tension. the beautiful dividers were created by @ kitsunecafe!
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.”
summary: Feyd’s wife was always branded as a dreamer, content to spend a day in her books. but her husband would always entertain her dreams, especially when they save her life /or/ basically the request || warnings: violence, haters gonna hate, death, blood || word count: 1658 || masterlist
REQUEST: I’ve always wondered how Feyd Rautha would handle having a wife like Helaena who speaks in riddles and flinches at loud noises and violence. Maybe an Atreides daughter they’re supposed to create the Kwisatz Haderach with? In a Universe where Jessica stayed loyal to the bene Gesserit. I’d love to know how someone like Feyd would react to her telling him he’s scared the way Helaena does to Aegon in hotd. Maybe he’d have very little patience for her but I could also see him bonding with someone like that. Also I think that someone with Helaena’s ability to retreat inside her own mind would be able to survive on Giedi Prime.
Your fate had been set in stone since your very conception, meant to mend the relationship between two houses that had been at war for centuries and bring forward the greatest mind the universe had ever seen. Jessica had trained you in the Bene Gesserit way since you were young, always believing that your bloodline would be famed for generations after.
But you didn’t want to be famed or revered or feared. You wanted nothing more than to be loved, completely loved. When you learned of your betrothed, there was a sadness that overtook you, an accepting that your husband may never truly love you. He was famed for his cruelty, his majesty in the arena and his fighting prowess. He was not known for his ventless and his love, no Harkonnen ever had been.
The first time you met eyes with your future husband, there was a silent understanding that passed between you two. He was a young boy, barely older than you and yet he looked as though he had the weight of the world on his shoulders. Perhaps there could be a connection between you two, despite your afflictions.
Your father called it dreaming, ignoring whatever technical explanation your mother held. There were things you saw that no sane man could explain and yet they were always true. They came to you in the silent moments of the day, when you read or sketched. You had loved it growing up, seeing glimpses of things yet to come but as you grew, they only ever turned darker.
The diplomatic visit to Geidi Prime was short and yet long enough for you to spend a few hours alone with Feyd. There was an itching under your skin from being on the planet, a discomfort that lingered as you pushed down any dreams that threatened to reveal themselves.
You sat across from Feyd, your hands twisting in your lap.
“What do you like to do?” His voice was soft, always soft when he was with you but the sterness returned the moment someone else entered the room.
You wondered if someone had shared your condition with him. “I read. I draw.” Around him, you didn't feel the necessity to boast of your suitable talents your parents had raised you on. The itching had ceased, even if it was just for a moment. “You?”
“I fight- I'm good at fighting.” He corrected himself. For a moment it seemed like he was done talking, but then he met your gaze and continued. “I don't have much to time to do things I like.”
“Perhaps when we are wed, you will have time to explore things you enjoy.” You meant nothing by it, only that you hoped your husband could find a hobby not controlled or pushed onto him by his Uncle.
Feyd smiled in response and you got the distinct feeling that everything would be alright if you married him. But you could not marry him without guilt unless you told him yourself what you were.
“I dream.” You say, unsure of how to tell him.
Feyd was slightly amused, “You dream? I’m sure many do.”
“No.” You quickly reply. “I see things, visions almost. They are never truly clear, only glimpses of the future.”
“Ah.”
“I didn’t want you to marry me if you didn’t know. I only hope you understand and do not judge me for something beyond my control.”
Feyd’s expression softened as he took stock of the panicked breaking out of your being. “Then you have nothing to worry about.”
The hopefulness in your eyes glistened as you stood, offering Feyd a small bow before leaving the room and returning to your mother and father.
When your day of union arrived, it was a rather happy occasion. Your family smiled as you stayed by Feyd’s side, your hand twisted with his. There was a soft and genuine look of almost-love everytime he looked at you. All that look needed was time to evolve into true love that would pull him under without hesitation. Feyd would let himself be taken by everything you are and he would even beg for it. Your mother and father could see the affection you already shared and knew nothing would come between you.
The Baron, on the other hand, had indifference covering his face all day. This was not a joyous occasion, but a simple ceremony that had to be done in order to end the conflict he wanted to continue. However, this union would bring him more power than war would, and he would just have to accept that.
Feyd reached for two glasses and passed one to you, raising his in a toast. “To the rest of our lives?”
“To the rest of our lives.” You agreed, clinking your glass with his and taking a drink.
Once you had placed your glass back down, Feyd leant forward to capture your lips, letting his heart float like only you could make him. Your marriage was nothing more than picturesque. There was finally peace felt throughout the universe and yet there were some who were still not happy.
The Emperor, despite suggesting the match to weaken the houses and cause friction, watched as they came together in love and only grew stronger. The Atreides were a threat to his reign long before, but with the Harkonnens now as allies, there was nothing that could stop them if they desired his throne.
The final straw came when news of an heir flowed throughout the Imperium. The Atreides and Harkonnens would soon have an heir that would bind them with blood, for eternity.
Your husband had been even more protective of you since the beginning of your pregnancy, barely wanting to leave you alone. The dreams had shown you your daughter, a beautiful girl that was the mix of both you and Feyd. But there was one persistent dream that shook you to your core.
“Feyd?”
“Yes my love?” The nickname had never stopped, ever since the wedding.
“I'm afriad.”
Feyd's face flashed with confusion for a moment as his eyes darted around the room. “What are you afraid of my love? Our families are united, no one would dare stand against Harkonnens and Atreides united. The babe is well, she is growing stronger by the day.”
“There are snakes crawling through the city.” Your voice is a whisper, trembling with every word. You weren’t really aware of what your words meant, only repeating what your mind brought forward.
Feyd smiled at his wife’s words. “There are no snakes on Geidi Prime, my love. They cannot survive here.” He takes a seat next to you, pulling you closer to him as if to protect you.
“They will worm their way to our palace.”
“Then I will double our guard and order lockdown at the slightest threat.” He said it with such conviction that you were almost convinced.
“But-“
“What have I said?” Feyd asked you. “I would never let anything hurt you or our children. There is nothing that can get into our palace unless I will it.”
You let the dream sit in the back of your mind, pushing it away from thought but not forgetting. And it did you well not to forget when you couldn’t sleep one night and a echoing crash startled you. No one else awoke and you took the risk to glance outside your room, where your guards stood to attention.
“Is everything alright Na-Baroness?”
You forced a smile. “All is fine. Just… stay alert.” With nothing else to say, you turn and return to your bed.
Feyd was not disturbed but you found yourself reaching under his pillow to touch the knife he always kept there. It was a reassuring reminder that if your dream came true tonight, there was something Feyd could do. You lay, the blank ceiling taunting you and your ears hearing every footstep and breath people made.
It was only as you had begun drifting back to sleep that a muffled shout came from the hallway and your heart stuttered. You reached over, shaking Feyd awake as he quickly looked around before settling his eyes on your own frantic ones.
“What’s going on?”
Your breath trembled once more. “The snakes are here.”
At your words, Feyd reached for the knife and practically jumped out of bed, directing you to the corner of the room furthest from the door, furthest from harm. The thump of a body was heard and Feyd tightened his grip, activating his shield.
Two men, Imperial soldiers burst through the door and you caught sight of the bodies of two others as well as your guards. Terror gripped you, a hatred of blood instilled in you since you were a young girl. Your hand flew to your mouth as you shrunk into the corner even more, wishing the floor would swallow you up.
Feyd leapt forward, his body practised in fighting people at a moments notice. His knife carved flesh, splattering blood over the room. A small scream escaped your lips as the bodies crashed to the floor and your husband stood in the centre of your room, blood dripping from the knife still in his hand.
He turned to face you, throwing the knife across the room and rushing towards you. You practically threw yourself into his arms and he squeezed you close to his chest and rested his head on yours.
“You’re okay.” He said, letting you feel his steady heartbeat against your rapid one. “The snakes are gone.”
“The snakes-?”
“They’re gone. We’re okay.” He pulled away just enough to take your hand and pull it down to your stomach. “She’s okay, you’re okay. We are all okay. No one can hurt you.”
You let your panic settle and relax into his arms. Everyone’s alive. You can manage whatever comes next, you can let the snakes try but they will never be able to bite you.
tw: blood mentioned, sexual tension and sexual scenario, lowkey dom x sub dynamic, spit. THIS IS SHORT! Really short maybe I write this concept as a whole maybe not who knows
Feyd would not kneel, nor would he bow. Almost a force of nature, his will was visceral and unrelenting, unpredictable. And yet, without a second thought, he bent his knees before your figure, opened his mouth and put out his tongue, patiently awaiting your spittle to swallow. It was not some manipulation your witch mother had taught you, nor a command he was forced to follow. It was his nature, his own will, the most obscure and buried desire, to receive any vestige or drop of attention you might bestow. He yearns, so he earned.
“Open it for me, more, yes… just like that, pretty boy” your voice was low and honeyed against his ears. Yes, yes he was your pretty boy, only yours, not his uncle or anyone else, yours and yours only. He opened his mouth wider, tongue sticking out and dripping, dutifully waiting for his reward.
And so, finally tasting your sweet saliva, he swallows. Feyd feels its heat on his tongue, the wet, sweet sensation of your spittle descending his esophagus, the craving and the need to have more and more of whatever you might offer. He dreams of the day he can taste your cunt drool on his tongue. He fantasizes about the moment he would suckle and lick every millimeter of your folds, feeling your body tremble. Perhaps, should he beg enough, you would let him lick your blood. Meanwhile, he is content to swallow your spit and suck your fingers, allowing you to lose yourself in the humid gaze of his blue eyes.
He fluttered his eyelashes at you, his face holding a serious expression that didn't quite match. He was waiting, and you knew it. Silence had a strong hold on you, his impatience growing against his trousers, a growl escaping his mouth.
"Say something!" he barked.
You slapped him instantly and, if he had eyebrows, they would be furrowed. His pale skin began to grow reddish, black teeth smiling back at you, a small bloody cut on his lips.
"How do you say it, Na-Baron?" Your foot met his bulging trousers, stomping down hard as you reveled in the sight of him biting his lip until he drew more and more blood.
