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seresinhangmanjake · 1 month

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The Harkonnen's Sweet Thing

Feyd-Rautha x Atreides!Reader

Summary: You watched your brother kill the man you love--a man you were once gifted to by the Baron--and now that he is gone, you think Paul will use you as a political pawn in his war. And you're right. But you're shocked to discover who is demanding to have you.

Words: 2650

Notes/Warnings: Ignore canon ages in the timeline. I don’t know what they are, but everyone young is in their twenties, cool? Cool. Dune inaccuracies. Jessica and Paul kind of (very much) suck. Feyd’s a soft boy for our reader. Angst but also fluffy-ish stuff. Implied smut. Mention of pregnancy. I think that’s it. TG:M people ignore me. I don’t know what I’m doing here either, but i'm embracing it for now.

Part 2

When your brother pierced through armor into pale flesh, you felt it as if he had driven that blade into your body instead of the body of the man you love. You felt the shock of icy steel penetrating warm and delicate tissue, and the suffocation that came from the mutilation of your lung. You felt droplets of blood run down your front as you reached for the blade that was not there. As children, you were taught not to remove it. Not unless sufficient care was nearby to stop the bleeding before too much was lost.

Paul did not respect that knowledge. He yanked his knife out of Feyd’s torso and watched with relief as he collapsed to the ground. His body landed with a thud that matched the heavy beat of your heart. A beat that reminded you your blood was rushing strong, keeping you alive while your lover was draining dry of the strength to keep himself from leaving this world, from leaving you.

You wailed in the silence of those around you. Screamed at the top of your lungs as tears streamed down your face. You tried to go to him but the Fremen snatched you before you could reach him, forcing you to your knees, one of them slapping a hand over your mouth. This was not the time for hysterical outbursts; it was a time to stare in awe as a new leader accepted his victory and claimed power over the emperor and his daughter.

“Shut up, girl,” a male voice spit in your ear. He was tired of the struggle you were putting up against the hand squeezing your face. You were ruining his opportunity to witness a beautiful moment in history. A defining moment. A moment you didn’t give two fucks about.

No one spared you a glance save for the witch whose vibrant eyes were drilling into the side of your skull. A woman your father had instructed you receive as a stepmother following your third birthday. A manipulative woman whose smile in front of the Duke had masked the scowl permanently seared onto her face when looking at you—a decades-long act that the capture and death of your father had freed her from. And she’d wasted not a second displaying her distaste for his daughter.

Not long ago you'd thought to thank Lady Jessica for not loving you. Her lack of love made her so terribly desperate to rid herself of you that when cornered the night your family was attacked, she’d thrown you right into the arms of the Harkonnens—a fate she believed would destroy you rather than thrust you into a life you would come to cherish.

“A gift for you, nephew,” the baron had said after the fighting ceased and the soldiers, with you in their grasp, had returned to their unfamiliar home.

Feyd-Rautha had not rushed when he descended the staircase and approached you for the first time. His eyes were unblinking as he’d taken in his present; a slow drawl from head to toe that sent shivers down your spine.

“An Atreides,” Feyd had said in a low voice, deep and thick and eerily lovely.

The baron’s voice did not contain the same appeal. “Yes. Do you like it? A new pet for you to ruin.”

You’d stood frozen as Feyd traced a knuckle down your cheek before grasping your chin and running his thumb over your bottom lip. He’d possessed not a lick of shame when his index finger drew a line from the dip of your throat to your cleavage. There had been no consideration for your feelings when he tucked that same finger between your breasts and the neckline of your nightgown and lightly tugged you forward.

You had gasped with your stumble, your hands pressing against his chest to catch your fall while he smirked at the blush tinting your cheeks. His tongue then darted out to dampen his lips before he moved his hand to the curve of your waist and squeezed.

“Perfect,” He’d said, not in a loud declaration of appreciation, but in a tone meant for your ears only. Then he’d grabbed you by the wrist and led you to his chambers.

When the door had slammed behind you after you were jerked inside the room, you were suddenly filled to the brim with panic. You’d heard the rumors. What would he do to you? How would he do it? Would you suffer long?

A tear had slipped down your cheek that, once noticed, was brushed away with his thumb.

“Do not worry yourself unnecessarily.”

You’d swallowed, stuttering, “Wh-What do you mean?”

He’d pulled his shirt over his head and tossed it aside, exposing pale skin taught over defined, well-trained muscle. Then he’d stepped into your space, inching you backward until your spine was flush with the wall. He’d fisted the flimsy, nearly see-through fabric of your nightgown in his hand and slowly dragged it up your body until fingers could sneak under the hem to graze your inner thigh.

You’d sucked in a sharp breath at the pleasurable waves of heat that rippled from his touch.

“Atreides or not, you’re much too precious to ruin the way my uncle suggests,” he had said, his lips a hair's-width away from yours. “I've been looking for you for so long. You're mine now, do you understand?”

“Y-Yes.”

“Are you afraid of me?”

He hadn’t loved your hesitation—you could see it in his eyes and in the downturn of his lips—but he was satisfied when you’d truthfully said:

“No.” Because you weren’t. Not after he had brushed that tear off of your cheek.

His next question had caused your heart to skip a beat from the concoction of emotions it shot through you. Fear of the unknown mixed with unexpected excitement.

“Have you done this before?”

You’d shaken your head and in response he lightly nodded, his nose nudging yours.

“You want to?” he’d asked, hiking your leg up to his hip, and you found yourself nodding as well. “I won’t make it hurt.”

You’d replied with a soft “Ok” before accepting his kiss with as much fervor as he was giving it, thankful that what you’d imagined was awaiting you upon your arrival in foreign territory was far from what you were receiving.

Days later, when you had mentioned that he did not live up to the rumors of his cruelty extending to all areas of his life, he’d hummed. Said, “I make many bleed, and enjoy it. I feed off of their pain. Those who have been in my bed are not spared this, and it will not be uncommon for you to see me stained with the death of others, including my former pets.”

He’d paused then, allowing you a moment to question your future as one of those pets, if that's what he considered you.

“But I have been searching for something that I’ve wanted for a very long time,” he’d said. “Something that hasn't existed within these walls. Something I will never want to harm. Something…soft…and sweet,” he had admitted to your surprise.

He’d then told you that you were that sweet thing. That he’d known it from the moment he saw you. That he was choosing you.

But it was a choice that had its repercussions.

All things must have balance, and you had tipped the scales. From his gentleness toward you, a darker, more gruesome beast emerged when facing off with others. A brutal warrior who never surrendered and never lost. A sadistic man who showed no mercy to the opponents whose blood you would later wash from his body. He had annihilated his previous reputation as just the famed killer of Geidi Prime and evolved into something more, all because of you.

That was why you thought he would win against Paul. Your brother was skilled, but the universe had long known the name Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen for his prowess in combat and his ruthlessness which had only grown with time.

So why was it not your brother on the floor with his love sobbing and struggling to reach him?

In the thirteen days since your lover’s death, it is that question that has robbed you of all peace.

Despite your brother having escorted you back to Caladan for the time being, you find no sense of home or happiness in your birthplace. You walk the beaches and fields that, as a child, you dreaded one day leaving, but they are not the same. Nearly a year has gone by since you were last here, however, so much of what you once loved about this planet is overshadowed by the shattered heart caused by Feyd's death.

When you were young, your father would often express his wishes for your future. He would paint a beautiful image of you bringing your children to play in the gardens of your childhood home, carefree and unburdened. It was a source of comfort that he used to mask the reminder of your duty as an Atreides: that you would not be marrying and having children out of love, you would marry in the name of peace and produce heirs in the name of security. And it seems in the end, he was right.

With Feyd unable to claim you, Paul will be the one to secure new arrangements for your future, which just so happens to greatly fare in his favor. After all, he just declared war, and you are the ripened political pawn at his disposal.

“Are you well?”

You turn as sharply as you can at the intrusive voice, but the uncomfortable skirts of your dress are thick and stiff, restricting your movements. Feyd never made you wear anything like this and you forgot what it's like to be weighed down by layers of fabric. You fucking hate it.

Paul stands a few feet away, his hands clasped behind his back and a light smile on his face. Clearing his throat, he joins you on the balcony attached to your old room.

“I know we haven’t spoken much about what’s to come. I’m sure you’ve been curious,” he says.

You shrug, shake your head, and return your gaze to the horizon where ocean meets sky.

“We have matters to discuss.”

Matters such as where he will be sending you off to be married, you imagine. He must act quickly if he intends to establish and gain control over house alliances, since they weren't overly enthusiastic about accepting him as their leader.

“Let's sit down,” he tells you. He grasps your hand before you can object and guides you to one of the balcony benches. Once you’re settled, he takes a seat beside you and says, “I am going to ask you something. And I want honesty.”

You sigh. “What?”

“When you were with the Harkonnens for those many months, were you treated like a slave as I had feared, or were you something far from it?”

Your eyes narrow. “Why are you asking me this?”

“Because it’s important,” Paul states, staring you directly in the eye. “I’ve been thinking about the way you wept over him after we fought, and how he denied every offer I made in exchange for your release…” With his pause, he shakes his head. “I thought maybe he had messed with your mind, confused you, and that was why you were so hysterical over his loss…but that’s not right, is it.”

“Paul–”

“Does he love you?”

It takes conscious effort to keep your body from shifting uncomfortably. “What is it to you?”

“He survived his wounds,” Paul says.

The casualness with which he shares that news heavily contrasts everything that runs through you. Your heart stops. Your lips part, unsuccessful in drawing in oxygen. Your eyes no longer see anything but Feyd’s face as it flashes in front of you. The way he looked when he last smiled at you. The way he looked the last time he came inside of you. The look of him when he died—or almost died. Death had been there, looming over him.

You’re trying to will away the tears. Paul is watching you too closely. “Wh–What?” you say.

“He’s alive, and he is demanding you be returned to him,” he informs you. “So, tell me: is he truly threatening me so aggressively over one of his ‘pets’? Or is he threatening me to get back the woman he loves?”

The woman he loves. You never imagined yourself in a situation where your brother would ask if a member of a centuries-long rival house loves you. But then again, you never imagined a member of a centuries-long rival house loving you to begin with.

You remember the night he told you. It was late and your bodies were bare after having bathed together. You were searching for your nightgown when he said “Come to bed, my love.”

You sighed, defeated. He’d called you that before, but whether it was real or not was such a mystery and it hurt your heart a little bit more each time. “You shouldn’t call me your love unless you mean it,” you finally told him.

You heard his footsteps when he stood from the bed. He walked up behind you and wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling your back against his chest. “Why would I call you that if I do not mean it?” he asked. Then he hummed and said “You know me better than that, my love” before dipping his head lower and nipping the shell of your ear with his teeth.

So yes, he loved you—loves you. But there’s something in Paul’s voice as he asks you that question that gives you pause. It’s too gentle as if luring you into a false sense of security. The Harkonnens are not known for their capacity to love, and Feyd loving you could be seen as a weakness; his one vulnerable spot.

As monotone as you can manage, you reply, “If you’re being threatened you should just send me back and be done with it. I know you have more important things to worry about.”

Paul’s lips thin in disappointment. “I can’t send you back,” he says. “Not yet.”

“Why not?”

He sighs. “Because I believe he loves you. And I need to see how far a Harkonnen is willing to bend for an Atreides,” he says. “If he wants you back, he will have to be open to negotiations.”

You stand sharply, take a few steps from him, and blow out a heavy breath through your nose. You were told your brother changed after drinking that magic water and it shows. Holding you hostage for political gain is not the same as marrying you off.

“I would like to be done with this conversation,” you say with a huff.

“I understand,” he replies, so you turn to enter your bedroom. But before you’re fully through the door, he says, “There’s more, though.”

You freeze.

“I had a dream,” he says, his voice coming closer. “There was a boy, no more than five years old. He had your features and your hair but his skin was of the same paleness as the Harkonnens.”

Sucking in a breath, you brace yourself with a hand gripping the door’s frame.

“You’re pregnant, sister,” he tells you, leaning against the opposite side of the doorway. “But I'm very glad to know that the heir of Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen is a product of love rather than an unfortunate incident,” he says. “Additional incentive, should it be necessary.”

In your shock, you can’t look at him. He doesn’t need you to. You can see his smirk in your peripherals, then he pushes off the frame and heads toward the main door of your room.

“Try to get some rest, sister,” he calls over his shoulder. “You really shouldn't be on your feet too long.”

#feyd rautha x reader #feyd rautha x you #feyd rautha #dune part 2 #austin butler #feyd x reader #feyd rautha harkonnen #dune #dune movie

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phantasmicfish · 3 months

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Just some more Dune Part 2 things that I thought were interesting with a specific focus on Feyd-Rautha:

- just… the way that he’s so very accurately portrayed as a psychopath adds a level of grit I didn’t get reading when the book

- the scenes with him and Lady Fenring got me good. The book mentions that he finds her attractive, definitely echoed in the movie. There weren’t explicitly written scenes in the book of how Lady Fenring slept with him (but this was confirmed through dialogue), so I liked the movie’s interpretation of her luring him using her Bene Gesserit abilities

- I would have liked to see Feyd-Rautha tested by the Gom Jabbar the same way Paul was. In the book (and I think part 1 of the movie?) it’s specified that Paul has endured the most amount of pain anyone can handle from the test, but given that movie Feyd-Rautha seems canonically a sadist + masochist, I wonder how long he would have lasted?

- overall the vibe and aesthetic of the Harkonnen’s was terrifying and great. The black and white visuals, dimly lit rooms, flashing lights… There are a lot of different villains in Dune, especially in Part 2 — The Emperor, Jessica, but the most clear-cut ones by far are the Harkonnens. I think the visuals definitely amplify that. I find it rather interesting that the Harkonnens are portrayed to be evil as an entire house. The fact that they all had bald heads gave them a mass identity, served to make them seem perhaps more alien and less human, all capable of committing heinous crimes. Even Feyd-Raytha’s servants or whoever eat human organs

- I think it was an interesting choice to have Feyd-Rautha actually stab Paul during their final fight, we see the blade actually hurt Paul, penetrate his skin, we see Paul gasping for breath, we see Paul struggling for survival. I believe the book made the fight seem more cut-and-dry, that Feyd was a formidable opponent but he didn’t actually stab Paul (though he does draw blood). So I sorta felt the fight was a good contrast between showing Paul as still human while he maintains this cult status. I could see how his ability to survive this fight, despite his injuries, also elevate his messiah status among the Fremen

#I was on the edge of my seat the entire time Feyd-Rautha was on screen #he was terrifying #but also really cool #also that final fight scene was insane and choreographed so well #feyd rautha #feyd rautha harkonnen #paul atreides #dune #dune part 2 #dune part two #house harkonnen #lady fenring #margot fenring #dune spoilers

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redskull199987 · 3 months

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Concubine

Paul Atreides x fem!reader Part II

Word Count:1.6k

Warnings:!SPOILERS! for Dune II, canon typical violence

Summary:"This princess will carry his name and yet, she will be less than a Concubine. She will never spend a moment of tenderness with the man she is tied to. But we who are called concubines - in the eyes of history we will be wives…"

Part I / Masterlist

She was pretty. You had to give her that. Your gaze closely followed each and every move that the Princess made. You knew that her head must have been chaotic at the moment, going through every possible scenario, how this situation could end. And you also knew that her first and last goal of this day would be to save her father’s life and secure the continuous reign of her bloodline.

But from the way she looked at you, you knew that Princess Irulan was aware of the fact that if she did marry Paul, she’d never get to share a bed with him. Would never bear his heirs or even receive an ounce of warmth from him.

She knew that even though you'd officially be Paul’s concubine, his loyalty would lie with you. And only you.

Chani’s hand on your shoulder pulled you out of your thoughts. It reminded you that before it ever came to that, Paul would have to beat the Na-Baron Feyd-Rautha.

You took a deep breath in, as you glanced over to the Harkonnen. You had heard stories of him back on Caladan. Stories of his thirst for blood and his enjoyment of Pain. His reputation preceded him, but his appearance clearly matched it. He looked almost eerily as he stepped forward, proposing to fight for the Emperor and defined his honor.

A small frown appeared on your face, when Paul accepted the proposal. Too fast for your liking. You heard Chani sigh next to you. You looked over to the Fremen. The Woman who had become like a sister to you, who had taught you the ways of her people. You remembered it as clear as day, when she had first told you, that you’d earned her trust.

It was the day you had joined the Fedaykin among their ranks, The day you became one of them.

You were high on adrenaline. You didn’t know how else you could’ve explained it. You didn’t know how else you would’ve pulled it off. Your eyes wandered over the many Corpses of the Harkonnen Warriors, that were supposed to protect their Harvester. Almost like in slow motion, you raised your hand, your fingertips wandering over the specks of blood that littered your face. You knew it wasn’t your own blood, but the thrill that the situation itself brought you, was indescribable.

You needed a few moments to fully return to the present. The Spice in the Air was clouding your senses, making it feel like you witnessed everything merely from the eyes of a spectator and not as one of the Fremen who ever so fiercely attacked a Spice Harvester of the Harkonnen.

The Explosion pulled you out of your Trance.

You spun around, spotting Chani and Paul. They were fighting off a few Harkonnen warriors. But you quickly realized that Paul wouldn’t be able to defeat them all alone. You’ve never felt slower than in this moment, when you started running towards him. It felt like the Sand was pulling you down, seeking to swallow you whole.

But you didn’t let it. A scream left your lips, as you dashed forward, deeply burying your Crysknife in the back of a Harkonnen Warrior that was about to attack Chani from behind. You sank to the ground together with his Corpse, as Chani spun around, her eyes widening as she realized what had happened.

Only seconds passed, as you looked up to her, Anger and Determination all, that was on your mind. Chani gave you a small nod before Paul finally reached the two of you again.

“Re-load!”, Chani yelled at him and he quickly did as told, pulling out another round of Ammo, reloading Chanis Missile Launcher.

You glanced past the Mainstay that the three of you were hiding behind. When you spotted the Ornithopter in the air, you gulped harshly.

“The shields only lower when he’s shooting!”, You shouted towards your companions. When you locked eyes with Paul, you immediately realized that the two of you had the same Plan.“We’ll distract him!”, Paul explained to Chani who gave him a court nod as she understood.

“Wait for our sign!”, You yelled, as you got ready to sprint over to the next Mainstay to distract the Sniper.

“Ready?”, Paul asked as he got into position next to you.

“Ready as I’ll ever be.”, You grinned, despite the Seriousness of the Situation.

You took in one last deep breath, knowing very well that it could be your last one, before you felt Paul tap your shoulder, signaling you to start running.

Almost immediately, your instincts kicked in and it felt like you were a spectator again, watching how your feet carried you through the hot sand. You saw and heard the shots that rang in the Air as you sprinted through the Desert.

“Shit!”, You heard Paul yell next to you and you quickly realized what he meant, when you saw the Mainstay in front of you start to move further away from you.

“Run!!”, You shouted, as if it wasn’t obvious.

You knew that from that moment and the point where you reached your destination, only seconds passed but it felt like hours as you ran through the sand. Mere moments before you reached the safety of the Mainstay, you heard Paul yell at Chani to launch the Missile.

You were knocked over by the Force of the Explosion as the Ornithopter burst apart into the air, signaling to the Fremen that were hidden on the cliffs nearby that they could launch their attack on the Harvester, destroying it entirely.

“Hurry!”, Paul yelled, as he pulled you to your feet and back over to Chani who was already making her way towards the nearby Dune. You had to disappear in the Desert again, before more Harkonnen would come and attack you.

That night you sat with the other Fedaykin, drank and laughed with them as Paul and you joined their ranks as respectable Warriors of the Desert. You received your Fremen name and you realized that your Heart, your soul and your entire being was with them now. You would fight for them as long as you breathed, would even go to death for them.

And Chani seemed to realize it too.

The young woman had always acted cold towards you, but when you saved her life on that day, risking your own for hers, she realized just how much of a loyal friend and fighter lay in you. From that day on, You knew that you could always count on each other.

“He will survive…He will win.”, Chani whispered into your ear and squeezed your shoulder as you watched how Paul and Feyd-Rautha got ready for their Fight. As the Gaze of the Na-Baron crossed yours, you sucked in a deep breath. What you saw in those eyes scared you.

It was a thirst for Blood and Power that you had only seen in Paul as he drank the Water of life.

You quickly looked over to Paul, giving him a firm nod, signaling him that you were on his side. His eyes told you more than words ever could. It was a silent promise. A promise to come back to you, to survive this battle and to put his plan into action.

It was a Promise that he would become the Emperor.

“I must not fear”, You mumbled to yourself, as the fight began,”Fear is the Mindkiller.”

Your eyes followed every little move of Paul as well as Feyd-Rautha. The two men were equal fighters, both born to be the One. But only one of them would win, only one of them would come out alive.

“Fear is the little death that brings total obliteration.”, You whispered, as you watched Paul get knocked over the head, Blood trickling down his temple,”I will face my fear.”

“Is she your pet?”, Feyd-Rautha mocked as he gave Paul a moment to collect himself. The Na-Baron grinned wickedly and pointed his knife at you. You paid him no mind, as your eyes only rested on Paul, silently telling him not to let himself be provoked.

“I will permit it to pass over me and through me”, you mouthed as Paul got up and the Fight commenced anew.

Your breath hitched as Feyd-Rautha swiftly disarmed Paul, ramming the Crsyknife into his ribs. A guttural groan left Paul's lips as the two fighters stood close to each other. Wheezing breaths were the only noise to be heard in the room.

“And when it has gone past I will turn to the inner eye and see it’s Path”, You whispered desperately, the Mantra being the only thing that kept you from panicking.

All your senses were focused on the two men in front of you as you witnessed how Paul silently pulled the Crysknife out of his Body, getting ready to attack. Feyd-Rautha barely had time to react as the holy knife of Shai-Hulud pierced his armor and therefore ended his life by the hand of the new Emperor.

“Where the Fear has gone there will be nothing”, You mouthed as Paul got to his feet again. His steps seemed to carry the weight of the Universe as he walked over to the old Emperor, demanding him to kneel in front of his new Master.

Reluctantly the old man did as told, as he accepted his defeat. Princess Irulans gaze slowly wandered to you, as her father fell to his knees.

“Only I will remain.”

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winniethewife · 4 days

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WINNIE!

Idk anything about Dune, or the Duke or his ring, but I want a fluff headcanon where you stole his ring!

And he could use it as an excuse not to attend meetings and instead punishing you for stealing his precious ring?

MANI, I'm so sorry this too SO very long to get to.

The one who bares the ring.

at first he's just confused, he never takes the thing off so it being missing from his finger is just a unbelievable moment of weirdness.

he spends the whole morning looking for it, missing at least two meetings. but it hasn't even crossed his mind that someone would take it

that is until he finally gives up around lunch time. food will help him think straight

When he makes it to the table you're sitting there waiting for him.

and there it is...his ring on your finger. It doesn't exactly fit but...

"You took my...What?"

He's really just impressed.

As a reward he lets you wear it the rest of the day

As a Punishment, he makes you come to all his meetings.

He also makes you the center of attention by asking you to help him make decisions all day long

"Hmmm, I don't know maybe we should ask the one who bears the ring."

Everyone looks to you, a mixture of confusion and bemusement on their faces.

you realize quickly, He made this a learning experience.

that bastard.

at the end of the day you give it back to him. Saying something about how you never expecting wearing the ring was so damn hard

he thinks this is hilarious.

"Well, next time you'll think twice before taking something that isn't yours."

300 follower celebration

Masterlist

Taglist: @silvernight-m @queerponcho @boredzillenial

#duke leto atreides #celebrate #winnie answers #winnie does stuff #winnie celebrates #300 followers #300 follower celebration #head canons #dune #dune 2021 #dune part 1 #leto atreides x reader #leto atreides

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melodygatesauthor · 9 months

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The Only One

Dark - Duke Leto Atreides X f!Reader

Not Beta Read

PLEASE READ TAGS/DISCLAIMERS/WARNINGS BEFORE READING THIS FIC. THERE ARE DARK THEMES!

Summary

The duke needs an heir, or Caladan will fall under the rule of his enemies. There's one woman is capable of saving the planet...she's the only one.

Tags/Warnings

Disclaimers: This fic does not comply with canon, throw everything you thought you knew about the Dune lore out the window. The duke is (in my opinion) in character for this situation, despite the obsessive tendencies. There is heavy non-con in this fic, it's not for everyone. If you're sensitive to that sort of thing in fanfiction, please keep on scrolling thanks. NSFW, non-con, rape, kidnapping, sex, unprotected sex, breeding kink, praise kink, lactation kink, pregnancy, blood kink, cockwarming, forced pregnancy, non-consensual bondage, porn with some plot, smut, creampie, body worship, pregnant sex, oral sex (f receiving), Dark fic, Dark Duke Leto Atreides. DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT (that means that what you see in the tags WILL be in the fic, don't act surprised when you get exactly what you were warned about.)

Word Count: 6k

Prelude

After many years of trying for an heir, Duke Leto has begun to give up hope. Without an heir, the emperor threatens to give away his birthright, strip him of his title, and hand Caladan to his enemies. He has been given only one final year to produce a son who will carry on his family name. While searching for someone who could give him what he needs, he happens upon a mysterious woman. The strange woman tells of a prophecy, one that Leto takes very seriously, because he has no other choice. "In a village, not far from here, my lord, there's a girl. She is not of noble birth, but I have seen her future, and she will give you many sons." Duke Leto, a kind and gentle man, would never hurt someone so innocent on purpose, but when faced with the choice of taking you, or losing Caladan to those who meant to oppress it, he must set aside his morality for the greater good...

The duke entered his chambers where you were suspended from the lofty ceiling, as he’d requested his men to do once they found you. A warm smile spread across his face at the sight of you, so beautiful, so scared. Leto stepped forward, nearly jumping when your head shot up and your tear-stained eyes locked on with his. He held one hand behind his back in a regal manner, holding the other out to touch your cheek as he closed in on you slowly.

“W-wh…” you cleared your throat, “where…”

“Shh,” he whispered softly, brushing his thumb over the soft skin of your beautiful face, “you’re safe now. There’s no need to panic.”

Despite his words, it was clear you were terrified, struggling to breath in a normal, even heave. No matter the fear you displayed in your eyes, the duke’s expression remained calm, and filled with adoration.

“I know you’re frightened. It is…expected,” he said softly, standing up straight and casually walking to his wardrobe. “Would you care for some wine perhaps? Or I can call for the doctor, he could provide you with a mild sedative?”

He turned to look at you, your head was hung downward once again, naked body trembling and rattling the chains that held you in place. He wasn’t a cruel man, though he suspected you thought he was. He’d never done something like this before, sending his guards out to retrieve a young woman to keep in his chambers indefinitely. A nearly inaudible sob escaped your lips.

“No need to cry my dear, you’re not in any danger,” he said, beginning to unbuckle his belt, the sound of the metal piercing through the room. “In fact, you’re going to be very well taken care of here. Do you have any idea just how lucky you are?”

You cried harder, sobs becoming even louder as you looked up at him again. He removed his shirt, revealing his warm, sunkissed skin. It was hard to tell, but he appeared handsome through the blur of your tears. You dropped your head again, your neck aching from the position you were in. Your arms were pinned behind your back, body bent forward at the hips, leaving your rear exposed and open. Your thighs ached, legs spread wide, forced open by a metal pole secured between your knees. The ache in your chest from your labored breathing was horrid enough, only made worse by the chains wrapped around you, keeping your torso held upward and parallel to the stone floor.

“You don’t even realize that you are the most important piece to maintaining our way of life of Caladan,” he continued, removing his pants completely and letting them fall to the ground. “I have been unable to find anyone compatible. Perhaps it’s that my genetics are too much for the average woman to carry to term.” He stepped closer to you, cock bobbing heavily with every stride. “But you’re not average, are you my dear?”

“P-please,” you croaked, “I…I…”

“No no, not another word. You’re frightened now, yes, but you’ll soon realize the important work that you were made for,” he walked past you, running his hand along your arm and to your hip as he did. “The important job you’ll be doing for me…”

You whimpered, struggling slightly against your restraints but to no avail. The duke used to pride himself on being an honorable man, and even in this morally reprehensible moment, he felt justified in his actions. He didn’t always like what his duty called him to do, but knowing it was for the greater good, he would do almost anything.

“You see my dear,” he cooed, “you were found for me, a beautiful, fertile woman who is prophesied to give me many children…” he leaned into your ear, “many.” His tone turned to a low rumble. “So even though this may seem sudden, you will realize with time that you’re fulfilling your purpose…your destiny.”

His right palm splayed over the globe of your cheek, moving toward where your body was spread in two. He didn’t like hearing you cry, but he knew it was inevitable. No normal girl would consent to being abducted and restrained in a man’s bedroom, not even the duke’s bedroom. He saw your puckered hole, and he pressed his index finger to it gently, inciting a gasp from you, followed by the rattling of the chains. You cried out, begging him to release you, but your wails fell on deaf ears.

“I know you care about Caladan, our people. I know you care about the Atreides legacy, and you know…” he spit between your crack, letting his warm saliva trickle from your rim down between your folds, “you know I need a strong, healthy heir.”

Leto positioned himself behind you, using his hand to fist the fat tip of his cock at your glistening entrance. The metal pole keeping your legs spread for him creaked with tension as you struggled to close your thighs, a pointless endeavor. He sighed heavily, gliding his head between each crevice of your pretty little cunt, making himself slick with your arousal.

“You must think me to be a cruel man, but you’re mistaken darling. I don’t want to hurt you, and if you’ll relax this will be much less painful for you.” His breath was ragged with an almost animalistic desire. “You must understand, however, that I care far too much about the future of my people not to provide them with an Atreides heir.”

No matter how hard you tried to escape the flesh splitting thrust of his wide girth, your attempts were futile. A pained scream echoed off the walls of his chambers, followed shortly by the warmth of your blood against his thighs as he slapped them against yours loudly. He wasn’t trying to hurt you, but he wanted to get your first time over with, and not drag it out any longer than necessary. He slowed down after a moment, once your screaming turned to soft whimpers.

“You’re doing so well…” he huffed through his nostrils harshly “…I know this isn’t easy for you,” Leto leaned forward, grabbing one of your hanging breasts in his large hand, pinching the nipple gently, “b-but your body was built for this…it was built for me…”

“No, n-no…” you trailed off, feeling your head fall back down, neck aching still from the strain. A small moan left your lips, despite your attempts to keep it in.

“O-oh sweetheart is…is it starting to feel good?” The roll of his hips remained at a steady pace. “That’s wonderful, it will help with the pain, and your time will be more enjoyable for you if you can gain some pleasure from this as well, I don’t want you to feel misery if I can help it.”

“S-stop, please, my lord…”

“Shh,” he whispered softly, continuing to palm at your breast.

He leaned forward, pressing his lips against the soft skin of your spine. He could feel your tied-back hands fidgeting against his ribcage. His free hand moved to your left hip, holding it tightly to angle himself deeper.

“I’m going to fill you with every bit of me , every-single-drop,” he punctuated each word with a harder thrust. “I need to make sure you get it all, need to make sure it takes…mmph!”

Surely your noisy whimpers could be heard in the halls, yet no one came to help you. They all knew what was happening in there. You were to be the mother of the next Atreides heir. You would be made to bear child after child for the legacy obsessed duke. A breeding vessel for a desperate nobleman, torn between his kind nature and his need for the security and wellbeing of his people.

“The emperor will take everything I have if I can't secure my bloodline. He’ll give it t-to the…” he whimpered and gulped deeply, “Harkonnens, and I can’t let that happen to my people.”

You could hear nothing over your whimpers save for the wet slapping of his skin against yours as his pace quickened. You didn’t know what he was going on about - destiny, legacy, an Atreides heir? - He snapped forward again, a gravelly rumble falling from his chest. He moved to an upright position, letting your breast hang loosely once more. You wailed loudly, the feeling of his thick fingers leaving their impressions in the flesh of your hip.

“M-my lord, my lord…it hurts so…s-so-much-s-sir!”

“I know, but you’re taking me so well anyway aren’t you?” He looked down where your puffy little hole swallowed his crimson painted cock. “Look at that.”

His index finger touched where you were stretched around him, that little bit of skin that held onto his cock like it never meant to let go. You whimpered, chains rattling around you as your body involuntarily moved, only serving to sink you down further on his length once more. He could hear you hyperventilating, a panic-stricken whine punching out of your chest that he felt a tad guilty for inciting.

Until he remembered what your purpose was…the reason he’d had you brought to his castle in the first place.

He reached an arm around your leg, sinking the pad of his finger into the wet, bloody mess between the slippery lips of your cunt. In the sea of your arousal, he found the swollen bud that made your walls flutter around him. You gasped, and seemingly on their own, his hips slid forward, chasing that delicious feeling of your body finally accepting him, pulling him deeper inside.

“You like that don’t you?” He bit his lip, a breathy chuckle escaping through his teeth with the knowledge that he’d found a way to settle your terror, if only for a moment. “I promise, no matter how terrible this may be, that I won’t allow you to stay like this…and-s-suffer-oh-my…”

He felt your body squeezing tighter, walls contracting around his cock. He thrust forward again, shuddering at the way you were taking him, pulling him deeper, like your body was begging for his cum, like you needed him to feed your hole until you were stuffed and overflowing.

“Mmm-m-my-lord…p-please–”

Your tone was different now, more sultry and full of desire. It was good to hear you like that, moaning instead of crying, grunting with pleasure instead of pain. This would be so much better for you once you gave in, he knew that much. He could give you everything: make your body shake with orgasm after orgasm, clothes made from the finest silks, and comforts that were reserved for only the lords and ladies of Caladan.

“Your pleas don’t go unnoticed sweetheart, don’t think me cruel, I wouldn’t do this if the circumstances were different,” he huffed, breathing becoming more ragged with every glide of his hips. “I need you…Caladan needs you–needs-you-full-ah!”

The smooth roll of his hips slowed as his seed spilled into you. You felt it, warm and slick as it coated your insides white. You felt a sensation you’d never felt, rolling over your entire body and pooling in your core, causing your legs to shake and your mind to go blank. It was euphoric; a reprieve from the pain you’d endured for what felt like hours, but couldn’t have been more than several minutes.

Leto felt your pussy walls squeezing, crushing down over his girth in waves while you moaned. What a sweet sound, one that made him feel mental relief that he’d given you something in return for your suffering. His finger slowed around your hardened clit, letting you come down slowly from your high.

As your pleasured whines subsided, you thought he would remove himself from you, letting your hole relax after such an ordeal, but he didn’t. The duke stayed there, hips pressed flush against your rear, making no motion to release you from his hold. You moved slightly, but he gripped tightly on your hips, keeping you firmly in place.

“No, no darling, no.” His voice was calm but raspy, still settling after his climax. “I’m going to stay like this for a moment longer, just to make sure it takes. We wouldn’t want to waste it.”

He looked down, seeing the way your body had bled on his, coating his pubic hair in a deep red shade. He felt for you, truly he did, but once you realized what an honor it was to be in your position, he knew you’d find it was worth the sacrifice. Your breathing was slowing, going back to normal, and after several moments he pulled back, letting his limp cock fall from where it had torn you open.

You groaned, feeling yourself become empty all at once. Your head hung down, neck finally too tired to hold it up any longer. You heard the duke tsk behind you, his palms pressing against your cheeks and spreading them further. The sound of dripping cum on the floor echoed through the room.

“Let’s keep it all inside, sweet one, I need you to give me a son,” he pushed his spend back inside you with his finger, what little was still there and had not fallen to the floor.

You winced and hissed, the metal holding you in place rattling once more. His thick middle-finger slid in deep, Leto shuddered as your hole clenched in response. He could hear you crying, a soft, defeated sound he wished one day would stop. But he couldn’t expect that from you, not now as he broke you in for the first time. He expected you would be like this for a while until you were used to him, used to his size, used to the way he kept you as full as possible, as often as possible.

“Your body handled me very, very well darling,” he said, idly fingering you as he spoke, continuing to push his spend back inside you. “Looks like I’ve made quite the mess of you, but don’t worry, I’ll have you cleaned up in a moment.”

He kept true to his word, once he was thoroughly satisied he’d kept his cum in you long enough, the duke turned onto his back, positioned himself between your thighs, and propped himself up on his elbows so his lips could reach your cunt with ease. A gasp shot from your lungs, the feeling of his warm mouth enveloping your sore folds bringing comfort to the ache. You moaned, a sound that represented more than just sexual pleasure, but a sound that told him you were at least accepting your fate…for the moment.

He was right, there was no more fighting, and it was clear your words weren’t going to change his goal oriented mind. His desire to have an heir was stronger than his desire to act honorably. His tongue went flat, you felt it soothing the tear of your hymen, then dragging upward and flicking once it reached the peak of your folds. You exhaled a sigh, cunt throbbing in response to the way he lapped at you masterfully.

“You know not many,” he kissed your pussy lips, “can say,” another peck, “they’ve been lucky enough to carry such an important role for Caladan. Even I’m not as important as you are right now.”

His hand reached up and pressed against your stomach while his mouth continued to melt into your cunt, soothing you even more as he cleaned you. He never felt such pride as he did in that moment, knowing that this was a good effort, even if it didn’t take. The sheer amount that he ate from you, in combination with his already discarded seed on the floor underneath him, gave the duke a sense of relief to know that he was producing sufficiently on his end. It wouldn’t take long for you to give him a healthy child, if you were indeed the girl the old woman had told him about.

You whimpered still when his tongue would touch your wound, though it was always followed with the relief of him dragging it over your clit. He slurped quietly as he continued, not making an indication that he would be stopping any time soon, despite the likelihood of you being clean already. The hand on your stomach moved, reaching up and cupping your breast, holding it and squeezing softly.

“Oh, my lord, y-yes…”

Despite yourself, you couldn’t deny the heat pooling at the base of your abdomen once again. Was it even worth trying to deny the way it felt? He was the Duke of Caladan after all. If he wanted a hundred concubines tied up to his ceiling he could take them, and no one would stop him. You should be grateful it was he who took you, and not someone who might’ve been much more cruel in their claiming of your body.

He hummed into your folds, breathing heavily through his nose as he did. His hand slid over to your waist, gripping around you and holding tight. The vibration from his moans, and the brush of his peppery beard against your thighs was causing your body to near release once more. That would only be the second time in your life that you’d felt it, and you wanted it more than you could bear.

“Mm, let yourself go my dear, I only want you to feel good from now on, now that I broke you in a little.”

His mouth never left your cunt as he spoke, his words only serving to draw your next climax from your body faster. You felt it fall over you, warm and heavy, making your body melt once more, going limp save for the involuntary crashing of your walls around the emptiness the duke had left behind. He didn’t stop until he was sure you were fully satisfied, head hanging down again and breathing returned to normal.

With a grunt he rose from beneath you. You heard him padding on his bare feet to the wardrobe on the far side of the room. If you turned your head just a little you could see him, much clearer now than before. He looked at you as he put a loose cotton shirt over his shoulders, then leaning down to pull his trousers over his legs.

“You’re simply the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen,” he said in a gentle baritone, moving back to kneel in front of you. “I do not kneel for many, but I’ll kneel for the mother of my children.”

You strained your neck to look at him once again. He cupped your cheeks to help you, seeing your struggle and feeling sorry for the part he played in your suffering. He kissed your forehead, feeling the salt from your sweaty brow upon his lips.

“I’ll return every day, at least until I’m sure you’re pregnant,” his lips curled into a compassionate smirk, “then I’ll let you rest while your belly grows.”

He stood, striding to the washroom and leaving you hanging there, like a prized animal on display. Before long, the same men who’d captured you returned, undoing most of your bonds, save for the ones holding your hands behind your back. They weren’t rough, just like before when they’d abducted you. You felt your entire body sigh, your bones and muscles feeling relieved to fall back into place.

You weren’t sure when exactly you’d conceived. It must’ve happened at some point between that first time when he tore you apart, and the following month when your period didn’t arrive when it should’ve. By then you’d become, not unlike, a piece of furniture in Duke Leto’s chambers, restraints much less restrictive and painful than your first meeting. Only a week after he’d broken you, you’d become more willing for him, crying less when he came to take you.

“I don’t want you to feel like a prisoner here, despite your situation, and since you’ve become so compliant, I think I can afford to make you more comfortable,” he’d explained.

And so he had you moved to the bed. Though you weren’t completely free. That was a risk the duke could not afford. So he had metal cuffs around your wrists, and chains that connected them to the stone wall behind the bed. You could move easier, but you could never leave.

When another week went by, two weeks after your torment began, he was swelling with pride, seeing you spreading your legs upon his entry into his chambers without prompt. You said you appreciated the silken evening dress he’d had the servants craft for you, the one that fell open on either side of your hips when you presented your cunt to him. He wasn’t supposed to love you - it wasn’t necessary for him to love you - but he felt himself overwhelmed with feelings he couldn’t contain every time he saw you.

Three weeks after that first meeting, you kissed him. It was clear he’d been holding back, allowing you to maintain some level of autonomy, despite having taken your body for himself so many times. He couldn’t, and wouldn’t, force you to be intimate with him if that wasn’t what you wished.

So it was a shock when he was several moments into fucking you, cock sliding wetly along your walls in a desperation to fill you with him again, and you grabbed his face on either side. His hooded eyes shot up, meeting with yours but then quickly flicking down to see your precious lips closing in. You closed your eyes, and so did he, and everything seemed to slow down for a moment, including the pace that he thrust into you.

The slow roll of his hips was heavenly, and was soon accompanied by the feeling of his hand on the back of your head, pulling you deeper into the kiss, gliding his tongue inside your mouth so he could taste you. The duke filled you faster than ever that night, being so engulfed in the moment that he couldn’t hold on any longer.

And now, it was just over a month beyond your arrival to Castle Caladan, you were sitting with the physician while he examined you, confirming that yours and the duke’s efforts had been fruitful.

The way Leto looked at you in that moment, was a look you’d never seen before. His dark brows turned up and stitched together, soft lips parted just before a smirk curled over them. He held your chin between his thumb and forefinger, the glossy sheen of tears apparent in his eyes.

“After years of trying to produce an heir, I finally found a perfect vessel, such a precious thing,” he cooed, touching your stomach before leaning in and finding your lips with his own. “My most wonderful treasure.”

Leto heard nothing else as the doctor murmured about you, voice seeming background to where his focus lied. Part of him was still shocked that the old woman was right. She told him in his search of her prophecy that you, a normal village girl, would produce many sons for him, and she was right.

That night, the duke did everything he could for you. His kisses were softer, less desperate and more deliberate. His hands didn’t grab your flesh as a means to hold you, but rather to feel you. And when he sunk his cock into you, he did so in a way that emphasized your pleasure over his own, angling for those spots that made your body quiver.

You may not have been of noble birth, but to the duke, that night you were his empress. There wasn’t an inch of your skin that hadn’t been brushed by the coarse hair of his bearded chin. He worshiped you, giving you an evening dedicated to only your satisfaction.

For many weeks he would come into his chambers and ramble on about how proud he was, and how well you were doing. He would whisper the most depraved, while beautiful, things in your ear about how the people of Caladan owed you their lives, and how he couldn’t wait until it was time to breed you all over again. All of that praise was nothing though, not compared to the way he looked at you after coming back from his trip to Arrakis.

When he walked into his chambers, and you were there on his bed, only a couple short months away from birth, he stopped dead in his tracks. He felt like the words were trapped in his throat, and his feet were stuck to the floor. All he could do was stare, and take in the beauty before him. You were simply radiant, pregnant belly full with his son, his heir; swelling breasts nearly spilling out of your dress.

Once he found the ability to move again he slowly walked over to you, taking off his coat as he sat beside you.

“Look at you…” his voice trailed off.

“Hello my lord,” you greeted softly.

His hand reached for yours, and he was quickly reminded that you’d been a captive there, metal cuffs still wrapped around your wrists, rattling as he held you. He felt a pang in his chest, wanting desperately to release you. Every time the thought crossed his mind though, he worried you would run. You didn’t seem like you would try to leave, having become much more docile since your arrival months ago. There was also the glaring fact that you were pregnant, and it wouldn’t be easy for you to get away even if you managed to pass every one of the guards who might see you before reaching the doors of Leto’s home.

There was always that small chance though, no matter how slim, that you would leave. It was a risk he couldn’t afford to take.

He looked back at your body, eyes wide and trained on your stomach. The duke leaned in, kissing just above your navel, a satisfied hum escaping his lungs as he did. It was hard not to like him, and that was what you hated about him the most. The man was dedicated to his people, to his title, and his legacy more than anything. The longer you were around him, and the more time you’d spent under his care, the more you’d begun to understand your purpose within his walls.

The idea of the Harkonnens, or any other house for that matter, claiming the right to Caladan, should House Atreides produce no heir, was a frightful one. He broke you from your thoughts, eyes trailing up your chest and to your eyes. Your breath caught in your throat, he looked so handsome, lips slightly parted with a few stray hairs falling into his dark eyes. Despite holding you captive for the sole purpose of breeding an heir from you, you’d begun to fall for Leto Atreides, against all odds.

“My sweet girl, my darling, you’re doing so well, growing my child in your womb. I couldn’t have asked for a better woman to give me a son, to give House Atreides its heir,” he whispered, cupping your cheek, bringing his forehead to yours. “I’ve been disappointed so many times.”

“Thank you my lo-”

“No sweetheart, no, shh…” he pressed a finger to your lips gently before replacing it with a tender kiss, “you should be worshiped by Caladan, it's people…I want to worship you.”

His hand grabbed at your waist, pulling you against him into a deeper kiss. You felt his growing arousal against your thigh, followed by an involuntary rut of his hips. You whined, trying not to be bothered by the incessant ache in your chest, your engorged tits becoming too heavy and painful to bear. It was hard to focus on the duke’s soothing touch when you felt such discomfort.

He stopped kissing you, looking at you with concern, “are you alright sweet one?” His eyes trailed to your tits, “are they sore? Oh you poor thing.”

You nodded and whimpered, wincing as he pulled one of your straps down and pulled a heavy breast from its confines. Your puffy nipple had a bead of white sitting on it, threatening to trickle down the mound. His pink tongue darted out, lapping up the milk that nearly fell from your breast, and humming in approval of its taste.

“Let me help you my dear,” he said softly, leaning in and latching his mouth over your chest.

You gasped at first, the coarse brush of his beard stinging against the sensitive skin, but it very quickly gave way to a much better, more soothing sensation. You sighed in relief, feeling him suckling at your flesh, drawing out the milk that had been causing your breasts to swell beyond belief. He moaned against your skin, rolling his hips idly as he did. This was very unusual for him, to be so needy and desperate for you, clinging onto your body the way he was.

In the past, Leto would’ve just taken you if he wanted to, but with your body so soft and full with his child, he would resist. Of course he knew you could take it, you weren’t made of glass, but he wanted to give you nothing but comfort, emptying you instead of filling you with more than he already had in the past. He felt your hand reach up and grab the back of his head, delicate fingers massaging between his peppery locks.

“Mm, my darling, so sweet,” he muttered against your tit, a little milk dribbling down his lips.

You felt his hips moving more, now more deliberate before, as though he were accepting of his primal urges to find release, rather than suppress it, but still unwilling to ask you for help.

“It’s alright my lord, you haven’t…mmph…you haven’t been satisfied in some time. Do what you must.”

Even though he was trying to remain stoic and refined, your permission was all he needed to throw all that aside. With his free hand he tugged at his belt, keeping his lips pursed around your nipple as he did. You heard the unmistakable clanking and rattling metal as he found success, pulling the leather from the loops and tossing it to the ground. His dexterous fingers then made quick work of his pants, pulling them to his thighs.

Leto Atreides was a nobleman, not one to give in to such animalistic delights so easily, but something about drinking from your chest, and how perfect you were serving him and his house with your pregnancy made him feral for you. His hands were shaking as he tried to bring his cock to your hole. He’d done it so many times before, why was he struggling now?

“Sir…” you pushed him off your breast, biting your lip at the sight of him as he looked up at you.

His eyes were hooded, milk-drunk and heavy. The lips that had been suckling for a while were now pink, puffy, and covered in a white, glossy sheen. You lifted your leg, sliding yourself into a position that you were both parallel to one another. You wrapped your leg around his hip, angling his fat tip to your slippery entrance.

“You’re too precious, too g-good…oh…” His hips stuttered forward, opening you wide around his cock once again.

You hadn’t been with him in so long, your body had nearly forgotten how to take him. You winced, needing to readjust once again, but he was patient, holding himself flush against your hips while your walls moved aside for his girth. He let out, what sounded like, a low growl as he mouthed at your neglected tit. His hips remained in place, making no attempt to retreat, nor to glide in further. His cock rested there contentedly, throbbing every now and then.

He gulped, humming into your breast as he drank more, the ache in your chest slowly subsiding with every moment that passed. Eventually he moved his hips lazily, pulling back after a time before rolling back forward.

What the duke was feeling with you in that moment was more than a simple sex act. What he felt now was comfort, his cock buried in your soaking, slippery heat, and his lips pursed around your nipple. Leto swirled his tongue in a slow roll over your peaked mound, taking a moment to inhale several shaky breaths before going in for more.

The way he drew more and more milk out of you was causing your body to relax further, your walls becoming more open to his slow movements and deep strokes. A low moan escaped you, forcing his eyes to shoot up, still so dark in their feral hunger. You tugged his hair, forcing him to pull off your breast with a loud pop. Without hesitation, you kissed him, filling your mouth with a combination of your sweet fluids and the duke’s own signature taste

“You’re like no other. Not a day goes by that I don’t want to hold you close sweetheart…”

He brushed his nose against yours, eyes moving slowly from your lips, to your eyes, and back again. A swell of emotion poured through him, his desires going beyond just wanting to give you his seed, but it was something more. Your last name…it was wrong. He never wanted to take a wife, in fact, he’d vowed never to do such a thing, but you’d changed the very fiber of his being from the moment he’d found you.

“After my son is born, I’ll give you the best gift I can, the only gift I can give a woman of such importance…oh my…g…”

The duke lost himself, holding you tightly against him, though careful not to squeeze against your stomach too harshly. His choked moans vibrated against your chest while he filled you, pumping your body with his cum once again. You felt your own climax wash over your body, inspired by his own, drawing everything it could from him as it did, both of you a trembling, moaning mess.

He sighed with contentment after his mind cleared. He looked at you once more.

“I’m going to keep you,” he kissed your lips breathlessly, “I’m going to keep you here with me. I’m going to give you my name, and until the day I die you’ll be mine, my precious thing.” He pecked you again, and then pressed his lips to your stomach.

“I can’t wait to have your name, sir, and to be able to walk around the castle freely,” you said softly.

Leto’s blood ran cold.

Walk around freely…

Perhaps you’d misunderstood him, in fact, he was certain of it. He could see how his words may have been misconstrued. Evidently he would need to be more clear with you. The duke’s gaze darkened when he looked back into your eyes.

“My sweet girl.” He cupped your cheek and kissed your forehead. “Until the day you are barren, I cannot risk any harm to you, nor your body.” His words were chilling, but his gaze was warm.

“You’ll never leave this room, so long as I can help it.”

Duke Leto Atreides Masterlist

Main Masterlist

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0bticeo · 2 months

Text

lurk | feyd rautha

part two of five. (part one.) (part three.) (part four.)

summary:

the edge of the blade is sharp. a pinprick of pain blossoms above your carotid. but…

“it’s not sharp enough.”

he blinks. slowly, his lips curl in a smile. your gaze flits to them. to the plush lower lip, to the arch of his cupid’s bow. to their predatory edge. you’ll cut yourself if you get too close. maybe you need to take a step forward.

“what will you have me do?”

“pardon?”

“to sharpen it. should i fetch the incapable wretch who forged them?” his grin sharpens. you feel his blade cut through skin. “or should i use you?”

wc. 3k

tw. blood, death, manipulation, knife kink, blood kind (both heavily hinted at), possessive feyd, political machinations, little canon divergent because the atreides actually attend feyd's bday fight (canon dune part 1 one starts a little after that), please read part one first it will all make sense i promise. shoutout to @kpopnstarwars my most beloved you're going to enjoy this. same goes for you @jaiuneamesolitaiire . also please ask questions about reader/the plot i beg of u i need to get this out of my system

you’re falling.

you see white sands engulf you in their sickly warmth, greedy little grains sinking you in.

you’re falling, and there’s a distant roar ringing in your ears. you’re falling, lifeblood escaping you.

you’ve fallen.

black.

you peel your eyelids open. they feel like sandpaper against your eyes, coarse and rough in all ways wrong.

you dream. again.

the past shifts and twists in front of you, ever changing, desert sand falling through your fingers. the more you cling to it, the less you grasp it.

you let yourself fall in the abyss of memory.

you blink.

you stand by your father’s side, gait proud and regal in a dark dress - a convoluted affair of veils and silver. on your breast, the crest of your family - crimson falcon spreading, spreading. you think of blood blooming on your chest and shift, ever so slightly. the cool press of your blade against your forearm soothes you.

you are in troubled waters, after all.

geidi prime, home to your house’s sworn enemy, the harkonnen. geidi prime, its black sun sucking life out of its inhabitants, monochrome nightmare.

the flight from caladan was costly enough - you can almost hear hawat’s teeth grinding in discontent. a fortune, wasted on harkonen festivities held in honor of the na-baron’s birthday. yet, you must attend. you, betrothed-to-be to a harkonnen.

you’ve heard whispers. hushed conversations between your mother and father, an assessing gaze from the reverend mother herself. it won’t be the baron himself - too old, too sick to produce the desired offspring.

just any other member of that wretched house won’t do either - you are a duke’s daughter, your bloodline mingling with that of the emperor himself.

in the end, it all comes down to the baron’s nephews.

rabban - brutal. all furious brawns, minimal intellectual capacity, proficient for slaughter if used well.

na-baron feyd-rautha. utterly psychotic. deadly. precise. cunning. watching.

from his position at the baron’s right flank, he assesses you. you, back impossibly straight, hands folded before you, feet spread wide enough to spring to action should the situation go awry.

you, bowing before them, liquid smooth, a hair short of being disgracious.

you’ve only bowed low enough to respect the intricate harkonnen protocol, not to show deference. not to them.

the baron raises his head from his seat, barely.

“welcome to geidi prime, duke.”

you suppress a twitch. how utterly informal.

“thank you, baron.”

a shift in the baron’s entourage.

outrage, barely concealed. rabban looks ready to slit your father’s throat. how dare the atreides scum fail to recognize the honor paid to him and his suite?

they’re being left alive, have the privilege of witnessing their beloved na-baron’s coming of age, and still fail to show the due respect?

you let out a slow, drawn out breath. the ceremony will be held in two days. more than enough time for you and your father to be disposed of.

your lips quirk up. you speak.

“it is always an honor to be invited to festivities in which the emperor partakes.”

feyd-rautha’s eyes are on you. under geidi prime’s soulless sun, they’re white, depthless. a milky way of depraved harkonnen savagery. he bares his teeth with unbrided hunger. you know it to be a threat - you’ve heard of his harpies.

you think he’ll consume you whole, with the way his gaze scorches your very soul.

how delightful.

a pulse. the suspensors. slowly, the baron rises from his seat, gargantuan mass towering above you, shadow stretching and stretching until it encompasses all of you.

“the flight to geidi prime must have been quite draining.”

a tenth of your wealth. he who controls the spice controls the universe. the harkonnen have had arrakis in an iron hold for eight decades. your jaw ticks. bastard.

“escort them to the guest wing.”

servants surge forward.

feyd-rautha’s gaze burns, sinks in the exposed skin of your back.

your dream shifts. twists, turns, has you seated at a banquet table.

a feast.

one day left until feyd-rautha’s coming of age.

the guards don’t know how to hold their tongue. they expect a fight - the grandest thing under the sun.

the emperor’s here, sitting at your table. from the corner of the eye, you observe. he’s been put at the head of the table, the baron at his right, your father at his left. an attempt at appeasing eons old enemy. a failure. yet...

there’s an air of satisfaction to the emperor. haden’t you be trained in the bene gesserit way, you would have missed it, the way his eyes glimmer like arrakean spice.

finality sinks in as he takes the first bite, knife slicing open the tender flesh of an unknown poultry.

it looks like a falcon.

you take a bite of your own meat. medium rare, the proper way to consume meat. especially venison. princess irulan watches you, gaze assessing. she, too, has been trained in the way.

you smile at her, finger tracing the rim of your glass, spider-pleasantries networking endlessly. you ask her if she enjoyed your gift - a vocal recorder of the highest quality.

her smile is sincere. in the brutal white lighting of the banquet hall, you find yourself wishing things were different.

“how is your brother?”

you grin. you’re being watched.

“he’s grown. still has his back facing the door.”

she scoffs, amused.

“he’ll learn.”

under the artificial light, your wine looks like freshly spilled blood.

you take a sip and hum. the alcohol burns, sweet little fire settling low in your chest.

“is the wine to your liking, my lady?"

to your credit, you don’t startle. your shoulders tense, your hand freezes in its motion to lower the glass.

na-baron feyd-rautha is at your side, close enough for his breath to tickle your ear.

“it is, my lord na-baron.”

mine. mine. glacier eyes have you riveted in your seat, needle-like against your throat. mine, mine.

his lady. his to claim, his to wed, his to breed.

you watch lithe fingers curl around his knife and wish you could see him in action. watch the deadly precision he’s so praised for.

soon.

twist and shift, until you’re lost in a maze of hallways.

the ceremony is about to start - you can feel the low thrum of thousands of harkonnen roaring their na-baron’s name. shadows pass over you.

it’s cold, this architecture. metal wings stretching, stretching. should you crane your neck, maybe, you’ll watch them disappear in the ceiling. maybe. darkness is a looming cloud - these very walls soak up the light.

you, yourself, are a shadow. puppet dancing to the whims of whoever holds your strings. bene gesserit. baron vladimir harkonnen. the emperor.

you feel a storm coming.

you stop. light. an open door. a lone silhouette, porcelain white etched against black.

feyd-rautha.

he raises his head. sees you. tilts it to the side, lips stretched in a slow grin.

“are you lost, my lady?”

“so it would appear, na-baron.”

a twitch. flicker of annoyance in his eyelid, in the clenching of his jaw, sculpted edge caressed by shadows.

his blade is at your throat before you can make a move.

time holds its breath. it will snap and bleed raw at your feet, thick rivulets of it.

you will bleed, too.

your lips part, a muted gasp. the edge is sharp. a pinprick of pain blossoms above your carotid. but…

“it’s not sharp enough.”

“what will you have me do?”

“pardon?”

“to sharpen it. should i fetch the incapable wretch who forged them?” his grin sharpens. you feel his blade cut through skin. “or should i use you?”

your heart skips a beat. a droplet of blood trails down your neck, down to your collarbone, down to your breasts. his gaze follows. hungry.

“you’d make quite a mess, na-baron.”

he steps closer. circles you, free hand grazing your hip bone, left bare by your dress. you feel the heat of him. suddenly, you’re acutely aware of his bare chest pressed against you. you suppress a shiver.

“address me properly, my lady.”

he shifts his blade. it presses against your jaw.

“very well, my lord na-baron.”

a pleased hum, like a purr. you tilt your head to the side.

“what will you do, feyd-rautha?”

he turns by a fraction. his lips graze your cheek, a breath away from your mouth. your throat feels dry. they graze there, too, over your carotid, trailing up and up until he’s pressing his cheek to yours, guiding you, helping you see-

carnage.

servants, dressed in white, lying limp on the ground, throat slit with deadly perfection. blood pools on the ground. stretches. oozes from gaping wounds, until it reaches the hem of your dress.

concubines, three of them - sisters of fate, harpies with broken limbs, lifeless eyes staring at the ceiling. they’re smiling, teeth like fangs in the dim lighting of the room.

“help me,” he mutters, voice like a plea. “i will guide you.”

“and if i refuse?"

a low chuckle. deep, raspy. you melt a little inside.

“you’re brave, my little atreides.”

“you wouldn’t be the first to try to kill me and fail, miserably.”

his arm wraps around your middle, pressing you to him. oh, mother, why did you have to wear a backless dress? you feel each ridge of him, the perfection of a trained warrior, muscles taut from countless hours of training - he’d make sculptors weep with the lethal perfection of him.

“ah, the fabled tale. show me, little atreides.”

“say please.”

his fingers dig in your hip, thumb tracing small circles under the silver threads holding the fabric together.

“please.”

slowly, you raise your arm. the fabric of your dress, a convoluted affair of veils and velvet, slides down your skin. inch by inch, until the treacherous, ragged scar stretches along your forearm. he tenses, feyd-rautha.

“who did this to you?”

“a fool who underestimated me.”

an assassin.

sent to kill you and your brother as you were running around on the beaches of caladan. who took you first, had you pressed against him, blade at your throat - until you sweetly asked him to

unhand you.

he did. your mastery of the voice wasn’t perfect. you faltered. he struck. you bled.

killed.

words are the weapons of the weak.

that, you aren’t.

“how may i help you, feyd-rautha?”

twist, turn, until you’re facing him, holding a bowl of paint. thick, petrol black, it clings to your fingers like a lifeline. feyd-rautha’s hand covers yours. guiding you, dipping your fingers in the paint, raising your hand to his torso.

you flush a little.

he’s warm. so very warm under your touch. the paint is cool on his skin - you watch him shiver, abdominals contracting, and you trail down, down his pectorals, stopping just short of his navel, lingering over the fabric of his tunic. at his side, his fingers twitch, eager.

“more.”

“where?”

his hand reaches for yours. presses it on his chest. you can feel his heart, steady, strong - fluttering, hummingbird flailing in a cage made of ribs.

you want him, you realize. you want to consume him whole, sink your teeth in him until you can finally taste.

“where?”

you have to crane your neck to get a look at his face. something like amusement glimmers in his eyes.

he brings your fingers to his lips.

you blink.

spread the paint, thumb pressing down the plush of his lips. his lips part, suck you in and bite.

feyd-rautha watches you, tongue darting out to gather the sweet blood trailing down your hand. he presses a kiss to your palm, lips lingering against the callouses of your skin.

you let out something like a whine. the bowl falls. you never hear it reach the ground.

“you’re making quite a mess.”

bastard.

“you’ll make a bigger one if you’re late, my na-baron.”

twist and turn, again, and again, and again. dreams have meanings, and you won’t let this one escape your grasp.

you’re standing above the ground, in the gaping mouth of a harkonnen arena. on and on it stretches, cold metal sparring against the sky, gnawing at its decimated horizon. ink blots the sky. you think of blood pooling in the water. fireworks.

you step inside the lodge. the guards recognise you - duncan idaho flashes a smile, a sharp quirk of his lips. you nod. they part ways. let you join your father, sit by his side and watch.

the fight hasn’t begun yet.

“you look thoughtful, daughter.”

you look away from the immaculate sand and the thousands of harkonnen roaring their na-baron’s name. feyd-rautha.

your father is watching you, gaze austere. you will not conceal, not from him.

“an alliance with the harkonnen would be beneficial, father.”

silence. you watch the subtle twitch of his eyelid, the flexing of his hand. the guards do not hear. you’ve willed it so on your way in. to them, this is only pleasant chatter between father and daughter. harkonnen slander.

“you will not speak of such matters again.”

“the emperor-”

“enough!”

you keep your mouth shut. your father is a stubborn man, blinded by hatred passed down from generation to generation of atreides. as you should be.

horns blow. doors part, slide up. in comes feyd-rautha harkonnen, prowling on the wretched grounds of his playing ground. your binoculars zoom in on him. on the ease with which he carries himself, on the perfect arch of his neck as he kneels before the baron.

on harkonnen prisoners making their way towards him. undrugged.

you straighten in your seat.

the guards murmur. they too, have noticed the prisoners walking straight, carrying themselves with entirely too much ease.

“a bold move. what is the baron planning?”

your father. he’s watching too. all of you are, thousands of gazes riveted on the focal point that is the lone silhouette of feyd-rautha harkonnen.

you rip your gaze away from him and focus on the baron, a few meters above.

his lips part.

show me who you are, my dear nephew.

he’s fast. too fast for them. you relish in it, the fluidity of his movements, the way his hands tenses with each strike of his blades, bare forearms rippling with tension. one body falls. two. it’s barely been a minute since the fight started.

you cross your legs and watch, enthralled.

by god, does he fight well.

a reptile, slithering around his opponent, assessing him with the cruel knowledge of his supremacy. shadows loom over them, horned beasts ready to pry his opponent away from him should he prove to be in danger.

you feel more than you hear his outraged snarl.

“back off!”

that poor soul is his to kill. his gaze flickers upwards. up to the guest lodge, up to you. he bares his teeth in a smile, a flash of black against pure white, and strikes. blood splatters on the ground. a gash opens in the side of the prisoner. he stumbles but doesn’t fall.

no, he’s a fighter that one. lunches forward to pin the na-baron to the ground, wrestling with him, clawing at his arms, hitting every nerve until the baron drops his blades. he’s laughing. he’s getting the life choked out of him and he’s laughing, shifting until his feet find enough leverage to pull him up.

there’s a blade at his throat. the prisoner pushes and pushes, unstoppable force against immovable object. on he laughs, feyd. your eyes drops to his lips, where you see droplets of drool drip down his chin. you bite your lip.

feyd seizes the blade with his bare hand and twists. you hear the prisoner’s wrist break before you hear him choke on his own scream, coughing out blood. the dagger’s deep in his throat. it’s the only thing keeping him together - one fluid motion and feyd rautha wrenches it out of torn flesh and raises it above.

his gaze finds yours.

the dream shifts.

a veil unfolds, parts, until you’re walking the burning sands of arrakis. paul atreides, blood of your blood, flesh of your flesh, stands before you.

his eyes are blue.

you freeze.

a litany rises. lisan al gaib. your mother’s handicraft and eons of propaganda from the missionaria protectiva did its job well. here stands the one, scalding wind screaming around the looming silhouette of him.

bodies. bodies, laying on the ground, thousands and thousands of bodies, hands clutching at scorched earth, parched mouths opened in damnation. hunger. they’re dying in paul’s wake. fate will set the galaxy ablaze. fate will make monsters out of you.

“you know what must be done, sister.”

you do. there’s something a little broken in the way you smile at him, palm cradling his face.

“do you, little mouse?”

he’s tired, paul atreides, usul, muad’ib, lisan al gaib. sanctity doesn’t suit him well. he sees, but his eyes are sunken, his cheeks have hollowed out. there’s an edge to him, too. the bene gesserit were right to fear him.

“don’t lose yourself more than you already have, brother.”

it’s too late.

a jolt.

your eyes wrench open.

“welcome back, atreides.”

the baron.

#feyd rautha x reader #feyd rautha x y/n #feyd rautha x you #dune x reader #dune x you #dune x y/n #obticeo writes #bald freak supremacy

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space-mango-company · 3 months

Text

Stranger | Chapter 2

Chapter Links: [1], [2], [3], [4], [5]

TW: Descriptions of Violence, Mentions of Cannibalism

Tags: Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x Atreides!Reader, Arranged Marriage, Eventual Smut (still not in this chapter lmao), No use of y/n, Original Characters, Canon what canon

Word Count: 2k

A/N: So... this was posted prematurely a couple hours ago. This is the actual finished longer version. If you don't know what I'm talking about, thank god. Sorry this took so long, lmao

Just letting you guys know that my knowledge of the lore is purely based off of the movies and the Dune wiki rabbit hole I fell into right after watching part two. I also took a few liberties with the canon here.

I'm super open to constructive criticism, or any criticism at all (feel free to absolutely roast me). Like I mentioned, I've never written fanfic before so I'd love to hear your thoughts!

The evening of your first day in Giedi Prime was celebrated with a banquet where you were introduced to the most important people on the planet. You've heard many stories of the ruthlessness and brutality of the Harkonnens, hence surprised by the courtly welcome during the dinner. Although you did your best to politely ignore the Baron who floated at the head of the table being fed by servants.

You were sat beside his nephew who, despite your mother's education, has evaded your insight. You couldn't quite get a read on him.

Feyd-Rautha whispers to you amid the buzzing conversations of the banquet hall, "are you enjoying the food, little hawk?"

You shoot him a questioning look.

"I like your hairpin," he sneers.

You resist from reaching to touch the Atreides symbol affixed in your hair.

"We don't see such ornaments often here." He quietly laughs in his devilish way, only too amused with himself.

Ah, you realize. He means to torment you.

"Seems early for pet names," you say, picking at your plate, "we've only just met."

"Oh, and yet we are to be wed in less than a week's time," his raspy voice rings in your ear, "I should like to be familiar with my future wife, Lady Atreides."

The marriage pact had been signed when you were only a little girl. Inheriting your father's inclinations, you swore you would uphold your duty, undeterred by the gruesome and abhorrent stories about the Harkonnens—because you knew that centuries of conflict could end within a generation with this union. You were a willing bride.

And yet.

You give him a smile that, to those not privy to your conversation, would seem genuine, "You know nothing of me, na-Baron."

"I should like to learn," you doubt his sincerity but care not enough to discern it. He takes a smug bite of a forkful of meat, "perhaps tomorrow, you shall learn something of me."

The following morning Iassa helps you into another black gown, this time with a veil in anticipation of the black sun.

"Is it not dangerous for Feyd-Rautha to wager his life for a show?" you question.

"The na-Baron is a skilled fighter, my lady. He will emerge victorious," Iassa is straight-faced as she drapes the veil over you.

"Yes, I do not doubt it, but given he is the Baron's heir. Does it not seem a touch irresponsible to even risk it at all."

Not that you actually cared for his life, you just expected that the Harkonnens would be concerned with the preservation of their house regardless of their brutality. You recall your grandfather who got himself killed fighting bulls for sport.

"The na-Baron will be fighting war prisoners. They will be drugged beforehand. It is perfectly safe, my lady."

"Oh." You couldn't decide if you were disappointed or not, "I see."

Iassa seemed intent on dropping the subject, so you do.

You stand before a mirror and take a look at yourself. It is impossible not to be reminded of your mother. She was never one for vanity, but you like to think there was a part of her that always enjoyed the elegant dresses she and you 'had' to wear. You allow yourself a somber smile behind your veil.

"You look beautiful, my lady," Iassa curtsies.

"Thank you," you look at her bowed figure, gray robes made more dull by the stark black choker on her neck. You were sure she was at least 2 standard years younger than you are and it had only been a few months since you came of age. You wondered if she liked pretty dresses too.

Before you can ask her, there is a knock at your door.

The house steward, Jaromir, clears his throat when Iassa opens it for you, "The na-Baron requests your presence before he enters the arena."

Heavy doors open for you in one of the chambers beneath the arena. You are greeted by the sight of a half-dressed Feyd-Rautha being helped into his armor by a servant.

"Lady Atreides," he looks you up and down, "I hope you slept well."

You bow your head in acknowledgment.

"Your knives, master," a large man whom you assume to be the bladesmith presents Feyd-Rautha with two daggers.

The young Harkonnen takes one and caresses the blade with his fingers.

"I've come to wish the brave na-Baron well before his fight in the arena," you say in false earnestness.

He smiles at your inflation of his ego.

"Though I must say, I am relieved it is all for show. I would not like to see my groom wounded before we are wed."

"For show?" Feyd-Rautha tilts his head and you see his arrogant facade show the slightest crack.

"Yes, I've heard your opponents will be drugged will they not?" your voice dripping with innocence, "to ensure your safety, of course."

His grip on the dagger tightens, "and where did you hear this exactly?"

You sense the awkwardness and tension in the servants. The one who had helped don Feyd-Rautha's armor has quietly retreated to the far side of the chamber. There is a subtle tremble in the hands of one holding a plate of towels. You finally notice the three women piled upon a raised platform glaring at you.

"Just voices around the fortress," you shrug.

A deep breath recovers Feyd-Rautha's smug expression. "Call for the warden," he orders one of the guards by the door, "tell him to prepare new prisoners. Sober ones."

"My lord, you need not endanger yourself," you feign worry.

"Nonsense." The na-Baron walks closer to tower over you, "My lady bride deserves to see my true prowess."

He sees through your challenge, but you don't care. Seeing his self-satisfied smirk wiped from his face for even just a second was worth it.

"Besides," he turns away from you to inspect the second knife, "my darlings enjoy meat that's fought for its life."

The three women sneer at this and you see their sharp teeth as they hiss amongst themselves.

You've heard of Feyd-Rautha's concubines long before you arrived on Giedi Prime. Tales of their taste for human flesh were one of the things that tested your resolve in fulfilling the marriage pact. You didn't mind that the na-Baron would keep other women. It would result in less of his attentions on yourself, you figured. It was their perverse appetite that nauseated you.

A look of revulsion hides behind your veil which you sense they would be all too happy to rip to shreds.

"I will see you in the stands, little hawk," Feyd-Rautha whispers to you as he waves for a guard to escort you out.

You do your best to drown out the noise of what seemed to be a countless audience that came to see the na-Baron fight. You could understand now why they uphold such brutal traditions. The people are so excited for it.

On the other side of the arena, you sense Vladimir Harkonnen watching you from the Baron's Box that towered over the whole arena. The blazing sun only helps you avoid looking in his direction. You were sat at a viewing box, still for nobility and separated from the masses, but much lower and closer to the sands of the arena. Jaromir had told you that you were to 'give the na-Baron your favor'.

Before long, the master of ceremonies announces Feyd-Rautha's entrance in Giedi Prime Speech. They are celebrating his betrothal to you and the union of Harkonnen and Atreides, you translate in your head. You wonder if the people care for the politics of the Great Houses. They seemed no less excited to cheer at your name despite the centuries-old blood feud.

Massive doors open as the na-Baron walks into the arena. His arms outstretched holding his knives like an extension of his limbs. He riles up the crowd as he walks towards the Baron's Box and kneels to his uncle. He then rises and walks toward you, smirking under the stark light of the black sun.

You may not fear earning the Harkonnens' contempt, but you were the Duke of Caladan's daughter and you knew that the favor of the people was invaluable.

You stand and walk to the edge of the viewing box. The glowing smile you reveal as you lift your veil draws cheers from the crowd that rival what Feyd-Rautha received. You produce a pure white handkerchief from your dress pocket and make a show of kissing it and waving the cloth at the buzzing crowd. You throw it off the edge and it floats toward the na-Baron who had moved both daggers to one hand to catch it. He looks up at you with what you think could be the seeds of respect and tucks the cloth into the tight armband around his right bicep.

He turns back to the audience and raises his knives in a war cry. The crowd explodes in guttural cheers and applause. Feyd-Rautha takes his position in the middle of the arena as his first opponent is released into the white sands.

You've heard of the Harkonnen heir's aptitude in single combat. It's time to see if the stories were true or if it was just another part of their menacing facade.

You were handed a pair of spyglasses to observe with. The two fighters approach each other, the prisoner wielding a knife of his own. Feyd-Rautha holds a taunting stance. The prisoner was sober, you were sure, but even without the spyglasses, you could see he was weak. You surmised the Harkonnen cells weren't very hospitable. He attempts a swipe but the na-Baron parries with ease. Another and the na-Baron dodges. Zooming in, you could see Feyd-Rautha's twisted amusement. He was toying with the poor man—and the people loved it.

The crowds cheered at the clashing of metal, thundering when the na-Baron drew first blood by slashig his opponent's arm. It wasn't long before Feyd-Rautha's dagger had impaled the prisoner's heart. There was no pause before a second prisoner was brought out to meet a similar fate.

Feyd-Rautha stood unwounded, seething with exhilaration. He enjoyed this; the thrill of killing. He basked in the roar of the crowd. You had never ended a life before, but some deep part of you could almost understand how he felt in that moment.

A third prisoner enters the arena. He looked older than the first two, bearded and taller. He reminded you of Gurney Halleck, the Atreides Warmaster. This man certainly wasn't at his prime but you could tell he would not go down as easily as the first two.

The warrior holds his blade out in a firm fighting stance, refusing to make the first move. You notice picadors in black suits have entered the arena, circling the na-Baron and his opponent. Feyd-Rautha lunges at the prisoner and a quick series of parries from both sides occur. You see the finesse in the na-Baron's movement. He recognizes his opponent's skill and he is taking this one seriously. You were not sure what you expected of the Harkonnen's fighting style but Feyd-Rautha was vicious but precise. The crowd gasps when the prisoner disarms one of the na-Baron's knives. The warrior manages to get a grip on Feyd-Rautha's armed hand and aims to pierce the na-Baron's neck with his blade. The na-Baron struggled against his hold and the arid air was thick with anticipation.

You were unsure what outcome you desired as you stared through your spyglass. Perhaps this warrior kills your betrothed. What then? Would you really be able to go back to Caladan's windy cliffs again? Return to the arms of your mother as if it were all a bad dream? You wonder if when Feyd-Rautha becomes baron, and you his baroness, could you convince him to let you see your family.

The warrior's blade was dangerously close to your future husband's throat when one of the picadors lashes at the warrior. The na-Baron growls at the offending picador as the warrior is weakened. Feyd-Rautha pushes him off and allows him a moment to recover, taunting him to try again. Blades clash once more and after a sequence of quick ferocious movements, Feyd-Rautha's blade slashes the warrior's throat. Blood made black by the infrared of the sun splatters onto the na-Baron. He licks the darkness that landed on his lips. Heaving, he takes your bloodied handkerchief off his armband and raises it to you and the roaring crowd.

You did not even realize you were already standing, breathless at the sight.

Chapter Links: [1], [2], [3], [4], [5]

Taglist: @torchbearerkyle @austinswhitewolf @dreamlandcreations @emeraldsgirl @strawberryfieldsforevermore

#feyd rautha x you #feyd rautha x reader #feyd rautha #feyd rautha harkonnen #dune #dune part two #baron harkonnen #baron vladimir harkonnen #house harkonnen #house atreides #giedi prime #austin butler #space-mango-company #fic: stranger

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blondeboyfriend · 1 year

Text

𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐃 𝐎𝐅 𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 (𝟏𝟖+)

𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐎𝐑𝐒 𝐃𝐍𝐈

[ PAIRING ] Vash the Stampede x f!reader [ AUTHOR'S NOTE ] Couldn't stop thinking about Vash having a whiny, desperate jerk off session so I wrote this. [ SYNOPSIS ] A sleepless night gets interesting. [ WORD COUNT ] 1.3k [ CONTENT ] Canon AU, porn without plot, friends to lovers, voyeurism, masturbation, oral sex (m receiving), deepthroating, facefucking.

You had fully intended on sleeping through the night. After a long day of traveling you assumed your exhaustion would overtake you, lulling you into a deep slumber. It sounded so appealing, sinking into the soft mattress, a comfort you had been denied for months, and letting your mind rest. Sure, it was a hotel, but it was a nice one, one that radiated a certain hominess you craved.

But nope. You found yourself wide awake, skulking through the hallway for a glass of crystal clear water, another comfort you were deprived of. You felt possessed by this sudden need, this urge.

You tried to be as quiet as possible, but you were frequently betrayed by the soft squeaks of aged hardwood floors. Every audible step was punctuated with a muted utterance of “shit.”

As you made your way down the hall you noticed Vash’s door was ajar. You were even more determined to quiet your steps. You carefully passed by, walking on your toes. The silence you were attempting to conjure was superseded by the sound of someone panting. Immediately you felt concerned, a flurry of thoughts bombarding your brain.

Is he dying? Are his lungs giving out? Maybe he inhaled too much sand when he tripped over his own legs walking up that steep dune. Is that even possible? It could be a nightmare. Is he gonna be okay?

You decided to gently push the door open to check up on him. Instead of seeing him snuggled under the blankets you saw him fully nude and straddling a pillow. You quickly turned away and choked on your own spit.

“I can’t,” you muttered, trying to find the wherewithal to walk away.

Watching him would be so invasive, a complete breach of trust. It was hard to reconcile this fact with the compulsion to take another peek. After a minute of mentally arguing with yourself, you convinced yourself you were looking through the crack in the doorway to simply make sure what you had seen was in fact happening. Your eyes could have been playing a crude trick on you.

You turned and looked into his room. As it turned out your eyes had not deceived you. There he was, grinding up against a pillow, his body bathed in moonlight. You couldn’t help but admire it. You would have been stupid not to. He was beauty personified, an opinion that would make him blush. He so rarely thought he was desirable, convinced his brutalized body would deter anyone that showed interest in him. He couldn’t have been more wrong. You wanted to drag your tongue down his chest, lovingly lapping at the scars.

Your clit throbbed as you watched him as he rutted away. Every desperate whine that fell from his lips made you dizzy. He was so vocal, so needy.

“Fuck, fuck, oh fuck,” he whined, his eyes clenched shut.

You felt gutsy so you slowly pushed the door open. Nothing too crazy, just a little more so you’d have a better view. Your hand wandered under your pajamas, your fingers sweeping across your slick cunt. The sensation made you shiver.

He began panting harder, his whimpers growing louder. He hung his head and continued driving his cock into the pillow. He leaned over it, holding himself up with his arms. His palms dug into the bed. You wanted to be underneath him, gazing up at his face as it fluctuated between elation and agony.

You rubbed your clit, slow and steady circles, as you watched Vash thrust away. He briefly stopped and reached for something on the side of the bed. It looked familiar.

“Is that my shirt?” you whispered.

He held it up to his face, taking a deep inhale, and resumed fucking his pillow. His muffled whines were sending you over the edge. You never realized he thought of you like that. You were friends, buddies of the first degree… Granted there were nights, usually drunken ones, where he looked so appealing, so fuckable. The humiliation of rejection was the only thing holding you back.

It was over for you once he started moaning your name. Your legs felt like the bones had melted away. You braced yourself against the door, pushing it much more open than you ever intended.

“Oh shit!” he exclaimed, startled by your presence.

You covered your eyes and hoped he didn’t notice that one of your hands was tucked away under your pajamas.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” you cried out.

You heard the rustling of blankets before the sound of him falling out of the bed. You winced. It sounded like he hit the floor hard.

“A—are you okay?” you asked timidly.

He groaned. “I’ll be fine. But could… Could you shut the door?”

“Wi—with me like outside it?”

“I don’t care,” he sighed.

You quickly slammed the door shut. The hallway was much colder than Vash’s room. You took a deep breath and tried to ignore the fluids pooling in your underwear. You leaned against the door and shut your eyes. You thought of tranquil things: the night sky, a hot cup of tea, sleeping in. Just as you felt relaxed enough to head back to your room, the door opened, sending you straight into Vash’s arms. Your back pressed up against his chest.

You wanted to die. “I wasn’t being creepy. I promise.”

“You were,” he laughed. “But it’s alright.”

You freed yourself from his grasp and cleared your throat. He had haphazardly wrapped a sheet around his waist. It hung low enough that you could see a hint of pubic hair.

“Well! I’ll be going now,” you said robotically. It was what you felt like you should say considering the circumstance.

“You, uh… You could stay.”

“Do you want me to?”

“I mean…”

You were hanging on his every word.

“You can say no.” He paused. “But I wouldn’t mind if you—”

“If I what?” you blurted out.

He smiled. “You know… Helped me out.”

You were more than happy to jump at the opportunity. You followed him to the bed, but stood next to it awkwardly as he laid back down on it. Your nerves were getting the best of you. You almost keeled over when he kicked away the sheet that had been hiding his aching cock. Precum dribbled from his slit. You gripped his shaft and gave it a gentle squeeze. It was so thick, you knew you weren’t prepared to have something that girthy inside your cunt.

You let go and crawled onto the bed, positioning yourself on top of him. You slowly took his cock in your mouth, watching as a blush overtook his tanned skin. You rolled your tongue against the tip, savoring the sweet fluid leaking out.

He groaned and placed his hand on the base of your skull. He ever so slightly pushed down, sending his cock deeper in. You breathed through your nose as it filled your mouth.

“Go—good girl,” he stammered.

He began to rut against your face, thrusting his cock in and out of your mouth. His pubes brushed up against the tip of your nose. His moans grew louder, more urgent. He whimpered your name as his body tensed up. He was close. You could feel it. His cock twitched as a trickle of his cum dripped down your throat. He dropped his hand and gripped the sheets. You bobbed your head and your mouth filled with his cum. It dripped down, collecting at the base of his shaft. You lapped it all up, leaving no trace. It lacked the typical piquant taste you were used to; it was sweet and oddly refreshing.

You rested your head on his thigh. “Do you mind if I stay—if I sleep here?”

He patted your head and stifled a laugh. You looked up expectantly.

“I was kinda hoping we’d do more than sleep.”

#vash the stampede x reader #vash x reader #trigun x reader #vash smut #vash the stampede smut #trigun stampede smut #.fics #.trigun #.vash #reader insert #x reader

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blueparadis · 11 months

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꒰ I HOPE THAT YOU THINK OF ME ꒱ ⋮ GETO SUGURU →[ CONTENT & TAGS ] :: f!reader × geto suguru, angst, unrequited feelings, mixed feelings, first kiss, suggestive, slice of life, canon divergent, no manga spoilers but I wrote his character based on the first scene of the first episode. characters_ mention of gojo ( there is no Suguru without Satoru), mention of shoko, utahime, mei mei, yu, nanami. back to blog navigation.

Rain in Tokyo has always come with a touch of melancholy for Geto Suguru. It reminds him of the dread in the eyes of mundanes. It reminds him how in weather like this cursed spirits pop like soda bubbles, it is everywhere. But certainly, sometimes it becomes a little less desolate with Satoru, Shoko, and his beloved juniors around, that is, Yu and Nanami; only a little though. Today's downpour is nothing spectacular. The splattering raindrops are hitting the window pane persistently. It has been like that for hours even though the weather forecast did not foretell such heavy rainfall. The college hours have already been over but he is stuck here due to rain along with some other students and teachers. He thinks it might be a curse to be the cause of such poor weather. Heck! If this continues some might have been asked to go for a scrutiny. Teachers at Jujutsu High are extremely fond of practical work. If only the rain had started just after he reached his home, he would not have hated it so much. Every time it rains, either he is outside or stuck somewhere or forgets to bring an umbrella. And, on the days when he is cautious enough for bringing a raincoat as well as an umbrella, there are roses and sunshines everywhere. It is annoying. Why does the weather always be so treacherous?

“What's up?” Satoru asks leaning against the the desk, “Did you two fight again?” He takes his place beside Suguru keeping one foot on the bar of his friend’s chair. He loves the rain, in fact, he would not have bothered to run in the rain just to go home but then, he would have been greeted by a cold soon; enough to miss some days for college. So, he always carries an umbrella. But he can not leave his dear friend alone, especially in the times of wailing agony. He refuses to give him some moments of peace.

Suguru who was staring at the rain shifts his head towards his friend with no dunes and crescents over his forehead. His forearms are now resting on the desk which was supporting his sad face before. His eyes gauge Satoru. “Suguru, can you hear me? Are you okay?” Again with the theatrics. If his mind would not have been occupied by you, he would have been definitely annoyed by Satoru.

“with whom?” Suguru deadpanned. He can not let Satoru be a part of this, he can not let Satoru know what happened between you two the last weekend. So, he tries to play safe by asking ‘whom’ instead of ‘why do you think so’ which would have meant the gulf between you two is highly bothersome to him and Satoru would not have shut up about it for days.

“You know who,” Satoru can not help but smirk. He was just standing near your desk with Shoko before coming to him. Normally, you either sit in front of Suguru or by his left side. The right side is always occupied by Satoru. Shoko sits beside you. It's fixed. No one dares to dismantle this chain of friendship. But today, you sat at the first bench at the rightmost corner. The whole class has come to know the turbulence between you two by now. If that is not the case, some would have assumed it and some who are curious might have asked you why are you sitting here? So away from your dear friend. . .

Suguru rolls his tongue inside his mouth being cornered by Satoru like this. He does not have the energy to fight or avert him. He wants to but right now he can not afford to do so. He is trying his best not to look at you and make it obvious for Satoru, to confirm his confusion that something is going on between you two. “oh! C’mon ya'know you can tell me about it...” Satoru presses further.

A thunder flashes breaking the sky apart illuminating the classroom like being in the brightest daylight. Your shoulder reflexively contorted, heartbeat gets louder as if your heart just shifted in your ears. Shoko composes herself as she laughs seeing you jerk, enough to feel tears at the edge of her eyes. It is not natural for you to be frightened by lightning.

“Are you okay?” Shoko tries to breath in between her laughter ceasing it momentarily. “you startled me too” She mutters and glances at Suguru for a second. Many others also got shocked by the sudden tremendous thunder. It is natural but you had the most reaction almost losing your balance on chair probably because of the headsets you had. Rain and music always made you forget about this wretched world that you belonged and no matter what you could never turn your back to it. But even if it is just for a moment, would it really hurt?

Shoko is not the only one who had a reaction to you. Suguru had too. His eyes are now on you, your face that is marked with wide eyes and a warm laughter looking at Shoko. He almost left his seat when you lost your balance. Damn it. Why do you always affect him in the worst possible ways?

“Is y/n here?” You recognise that voice. Kouske enters the classroom with Mei Mei and the bruised skin of you heart are in tatters now. He looks around for a few seconds till his eyes land on you. “I was here for work but with this weather, i figured I might as well drop you home, or take you home.” He stated with a warming smile keeping his hand on your desk leaning a bit.

Seeing Mei Mei, Shoko might have gone to look for Utahime so Kouske can not be kept occupied like usual. Suguru’s jaw muscles shifted. He stretched his arms forward on the desk dipping his head in between them. “I kissed her.” Satoru’s eyes dilate at the confession. “Last Saturday.” Suguru raised his head to look at his friend and then at you. “At the cafe near her house. She was crying over—

“Are you seriously serious? You know the risks of your—

“—of my feelings? my actions? Yeah, I know. I know Sah-toru.” Geto takes a glace at Satoru before leaving his seat. Walking toward Kouske he exclaimed with a neutral tone,“What’s up Kou-san?” He stands beside your desk. “I heard about your first job. Congratulations on your first paycheck — As they kept talking Suguru rested one of his arms at the back of your chair. If you lean you would feel his skin burning against yours, just like that day, just like when he kissed you.

That day, it was raining like this too. At the back alley of the cafe near your house when you told him how your family wanted you to marry the next family head of Hirahara, when you told him that it was Kouske, when you were bowing your head down unable to meet his eyes because yours were so full of woe Suguru held your hand. He held your hand making you pause your talk and when you looked at him his fingers found it's way in between yours filling the gaps. He squeezed your hands, his lips distorting in guilt before it touched yours.

The first kiss tasted nothing like you had read or heard and indeed, nothing like you had imagined. He slipped his palm through your loose hair along your cheeks to get more of you but you pushed him, turned around, and left. You kept running and running and running; never looked back.

You had not picked up any calls, neither reapended to any messages since then. Suguru must be thinking you were avoiding him but that was not the case. You were avoiding your ex-boyfriend, Kouske. You wish you could curse him, like normal people have the privilege, when talks of your marriage started to unfold around the Hirahara family. The rainfall became more vivid coating the streets and the playground in white. Kouske pauses Geto for a second and takes your hand in his and places a soft kiss. “I’ll be waiting for you in my car, love.”

“Let’s go.” He states and Geto tags along. He waves at Satoru and he joins too. Before exiting the classroom, he looked back and a shiver ran down your spine. His look was so full of rage and jealousy minutes ago and now there is only disgust. It was hard to understand if you were the stimulus or was it Kouske? About an hour after you see Geto walking alone through the corridor. As you get out of the room, you found him leaning against the wall. You walk towards him while his eyes focused on you.

You open your mouth trying to thank him for cutting in and saving you from his attention earlier because the more you avoid Kouske, the more he gets irritated and greater are the chances of this marriage proposal to fail.

But seeing you avoiding him, he caved in finally. “The rain stopped. Shouldn't you hurry to your fiancé ?”

“He is not my fiance.”

“Well, not yet.” You sigh heavily letting him know that his presence is as suffocating as Kouske’s. “but he is your ex.”

“I just wanted to thank you — You start and instantly regret. You turn on your heel without wanting to see his reaction. He is surely unaware of his mistake he committed last Saturday and he is not showing any signs of it till now. You just kept overthinking about something which was not worth it.

Suguru turns around and walks close enough to stand behind you. “don't get the wrong idea, princess. I didn't do it for you, I did it for myself.” He whispered near your ears rousing goosebumps on your nape. When you snapped your head back at him he was already walking away. You were still standing in the corridor, watching your friend walk away. He must really hate you for what you did.

Suguru smiled to himself. He might be selfish for stealing your first kiss, ruining the friendship you had with him, but at least every time it rains you will think of him. There is a strange sense of satisfaction for what he did and why he did. Of course he has no chance of winning you, neither get at par with Kouske but the jealousy of seeing you with another man drives him nuts. He will devour every touch, every voice and every pair of eyes that has on you but will never give you the power to shoo him away. He will do that by himself, so that every time a man haunts you he is the only one to put an end to it, to be the cause and then cease it, the suffering.

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eagerbby · 2 years

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only you | e.m.

pairing| Eddie Munson x female reader

synopsis| You and Eddie were never meant to be just friends.

an| written in a world where Eddie was never accused, never died, and more importantly, finally graduated. not very canon, billy’s still alive and briefly mentioned. this was a quick break from a fix-it fic I’m currently writing and very much inspired by the song touch tank by quinnie. it’s eddies song and i’ll die on this hill.

warnings| oral (female receiving), PnV (protected), Eddie running his mouth, thats a warning in itself, 18+ only

[June 9, 1986]

The pitiless Indiana sun hung high in the cerulean sky, its uv-rays biting at your bare skin. The cool pool water lapping over your legs every time Eddie moved was the only relief at the moment.

“Have you ever been in the ocean?” He asked lazily, his long fingers flicking water across your bare thighs. The two of you lay opposite each other in the barely six foot wide and three foot deep blow up pool set up next to his front porch. Your feet floated next to his shoulders, grazing the freckled pale skin there every time he shifted or turned. Meanwhile, tall and gangly Eddie had his head propped up on the blue polyvinyl rim, his own feet hung over the side next to your head. He had bitched and moaned once the two of you had finally finished setting it up, “I don’t even fit all the way.” He’d complained. “Why’d you buy a damn kiddie pool?”

You had laughed at him, his pale body laying stick straight in the cool water in only a pair of plaid blue boxers. You had begged him to let you buy him a pair of swim shorts but he had refused.

“It’s just you and me, it’s not like you haven’t seen my boxers all over my bedroom floor.”

“Yeah, but what if you go to the public pool? You’ll need them then.”

“Ha. Not likely you’ll ever see Eddie ‘The Freak’ Munson at the public pool. The parent’s would probably gather pitchforks and torches and hang me at the gallows.”

“Don’t be so dramatic, Eds.”

“M’not. And anyway, I don’t like swimming, I’m only doing this for you.”

“My parents used to take my little brother and I to the Outer Banks when we were younger. We’d go every summer, swim in the ocean or walk the dunes to the lighthouse.” You opened your eyes to look at him only to find he’s already watching you speak, his deep brown eyes hidden behind the lens of his aviator sunglasses. His hair is almost dry now except for the ringlets that float atop his shoulders in the water. “You should probably take those sunglasses off before you get too much sun on your face. Gonna get a weird ass tan line from them.”

He does as you tell him, taking them off and tossing them onto the porch. “I’ve never been.” He said. “The ocean scares the fuck outta me. All that never ending water. Do you ever think about how many bodies are in the ocean? Lost to the dark depths of the sea.”

You sat up at his words, a perplexed look on your face as you stared at him. “Well that’s fucking morbid. Jesus Christ, Eddie.”

He only shrugged in his usual unbothered way, his knuckles grazing the skin of your thigh beneath the rippling water.

“You’ve never thought about it before?” He asked.

“Not really, no. I guess I blocked the thought from my mind. I love swimming in the ocean.”

“You love swimming with dead bodies. Got it.”

You splashed him at this, laughing as the small tidal wave blasted him. The shock of the cold water hitting his warm skin caused him to shoot up, water dripping down his face as he wrestled you backwards into the water. You squealed when he grabbed your shoulders, his hand holding the back of your neck as he dunked you. The gurgle of the water echoed your laugh and as he pulled you back up you spit a fountain of water right into his face.

“Who would have ever imagined that you, The Princess of Hawkins high and valediction, was such a freak.”

“I graduated two years ago, Eddie! Now I’m just the queen of folding panties at Starcourt mall, and failing my English lit course.”

You watched Eddie’s expression shift at the word panties, your best friend's eyes now slightly wider, his grip on the back of your neck a little harder. He was so close to you, sitting on his knees in the small pool, completely leaned over your body. You didn’t see him shirtless often and you had never seen him shirtless and so close. If you reached up you could trace the dark ink of his tattoo that sat just beneath his collarbone. Scratch your fingers against the small splattering of hair on his sternum. That strange feeling stirred in your stomach, the same one you’d been getting for a couple months now. You didn’t understand it and what made it worse was that Eddie, your best friend, was the sole cause of it.

You felt it for the first time after Eddie had fallen asleep during your weekly movie night. His head was laying on the pillow in your lap, you hadn’t even noticed he’d fallen asleep until you heard him softly snore. He’d had a bad day at school, Jason Carver and his cronies spray painting ‘Freak’ in bright red letters across the windshield of his van. When you got to his trailer later that day you found him sitting on the hood of the van with a razor blade, slowly scraping the still wet paint from the glass. You had tried helping him but he only waved you off, telling you it was fine. But his eyes were red rimmed and glassy like he’d been crying. You wanted to kill those stupid jocks, which you voiced with indignation. But Eddie had only shook his head. He wasn’t a fighter despite what the whole town thought. He just didn’t have it in him.

“Lets go.” You said softly, your hand holding onto his forearm as you looked up at him.

“What?”

“To the ocean. Let’s go to the ocean, Eddie.” It was only a whisper as it passed your lips, your eyes searching his face. His furrowed eyebrows made him appear confused, but there was something else swimming in the chocolate brown of his iris’.

“What are you talking about, Crazy?” He lazily dragged you to sit up as he shifted from his knees to stretch his long legs out in front of himself. You waited for him to get comfortable before bouncing up onto your own knees, your fingers excitedly grabbing the wet fabric of his boxers on his leg. You don’t notice his cheeks flush as his eyes quickly flashed down to your hands and back up to your eyes.

“You, Eddie Munson, are a high school graduate now. You have a whole summer before you have to start thinking about what's next! And I have some vacation time and a shoebox full of savings from the past two years.” You rambled, your smile so wide it hurts your cheeks. “We could take your van, o-or my car, and we could drive to the Outer Banks. Rent a motel and just have fun.”

“Y-you want to waste two years worth of savings to go to the beach?”

“It wouldn’t be a waste, Eddie! It’d be… well it’d be like an adventure.”

He was silent, looking away from you, his eyes scanning the quiet trailer park. Your shoulders dropped a little when you realized he didn’t share the same excitement as you. He had an entire summer to do whatever he wanted, why would he want to spend it with you driving to somewhere he’s never been.

He doesn’t even like the ocean, you idiot.

“Forget it. It’s stupid.” He jumped a little as you suddenly stood up, rivets of water rushing down the expanse of your body. You’ve stepped one foot out of the pool before he’s grabbing your wrist softly.

“Hey, where are you going?” He asked gently, his eyes wide like he’d just gotten into trouble.

“Inside to change. I think I got too much sun.” You shook your arm until his hand slipped from your wrist, falling back into the water with a splash. You snatched your towel from the rickety lawn chair and escaped into his trailer, ignoring him calling your name. You grabbed your bookbag from the couch and all but ran to the bathroom, locking the door behind you with shaking hands.

You felt so fucking stupid. You already spent eighty percent of your time with him, practically attached at the hip as his freshman friend Dustin had pointed out, how could you think he’d want to spend even more time with you. Especially somewhere far from home. For fucks sake, he hadn’t even looked at you as you went on and on about it. He was too nice to tell you it was a stupid idea. The way he stared off, probably thinking of how to let you down gently, was all the answer you needed.

In hindsight, it probably wasn’t that good of an idea. You weren’t known for your extraordinary planning skills and both of your vehicles were pieces of shit. In fact the likelihood of making it across the Indiana border just to break down in some podunk town was terribly high. The thought of spending the rest of your money getting the car fixed just to turn around and go right back home, broke and without ever seeing the damn beach, made you a little nauseous. Because that would be your luck.

A knock at the bathroom door made you jump. "Hey, you okay in there?" Eddie, voice peppered with concern. You tossed your bathing suit in the sink and turned the shower on.

"I gotta wash my hair, be out in a minute." You yelled back at the door before stepping into the shower stall, the hot water easing the tension from your muscles.

You didn't want him to think you were upset so you hurried through your shower, using his old spice to wash your body and his shampoo and conditioner that smelled of citrus in your hair. It was a distinct smell, one that was all him, and it made your stomach whirl once again. Your crush on him was starting to become a nuisance.

Once you were clean and dried off, dressed in his Iron Maiden shirt you stole from his drawer a couple weeks ago and a pair of black jean shorts that were frayed at the ends, you slowly cracked the door open, peering out towards the living room slash kitchen in search for a puff of raven curls.

He wasn’t there, so instead you followed the sound of Ozzy Osborne down the hall and into Eddie’s messy bedroom.

He was in his bed, back propped up against the headboard and rolling a joint with idle fingers. He was still shirtless but with a pair of gray sweatpants hung low on his hips, the band of his now white boxers resting against his dark happy trail. A wildfire blazed in your stomach at the sight and you couldn’t help but clamp your thighs together.

Does he not realize how unbearably hot he is?

He didn’t, actually, which was why seeing him like this all laid out with his chest bare and that smattering of hair that led down his abdomen and under his pants made your mouth so dry your tongue felt like it weighed 110 pounds and your hands so clammy you had to wipe them against your shorts. You cleared your throat in an attempt to subdue your racing thoughts and took a seat on the edge of his bed, body turned towards him watching him roll with ease.

He looked up with a smile when he felt your weight dip into the mattress. “Are you feeling any bette-'' He paused, glaring at the long haired zombie on your shirt. His shirt. “Is that my fucking shirt?”

You glanced down and back up, imitating the causal shrug he always gave you.

“Maybe.” You deadpanned. Eddie spluttered.

“Maybe? Who else do you know listens to Iron fucking Maiden?”

“I know people.”

“You know people?”

“A couple.”

Eddie’s eyes suddenly narrowed, a quiet disapproval in those deep brown eyes of his.

“Billy Hargrove?” He asked with a grating timbre in his voice you’d never heard before. He’d tossed the joint down into the ashtray and got off the bed, standing in front of you with his arms crossed over his chest.

“B- What?” You’re so exasperated you can’t even form a sentence. “Billy Hargrove? What?”

“It’s him right? I know you used to hangout with him. He’s totally not an Iron Maiden fan, by the way. He definitely listens to Foreigner and cries in his piece of shit Camaro.”

“Hey! Don’t talk bad about Foreigner, I love them.” You stood up from the bed with your hands on your hips. “He’s a Guns N’ Roses guy anyways; completely idolizes Axel Rose.”

“Oh. Okay. So Billy Hargrove likes Guns N’ Roses and groupies for Axel Rose. Amazing.”

“I don’t hang out with Billy Hargrove, Eddie. Not like that, anyways.”

His nostrils flared and he nodded. “But you do hang out.”

“Maybe once or twice, I guess?” Your voice forms a question. You didn’t consider having a couple of the same friends and being at parties the other is at as ‘hanging out’. “What- What is this, Eddie? Why are you freaking out over Billy?”

“I’m not.” He said, blinking a couple times like he was trying to snap out of something. He leaned over your shoulder and grabbed the joint out the ashtray, lit it, and walked over to his cluttered table to search through a milk crate full of records. “Just figured the people you were talking about was him, s’all.”

“Eddie,” You said, coming up beside him to grab his wrist. He froze, his hands stopping their furious flipping of records, but his gaze stayed low. “I was fucking around, Eddie.”

“Fucking around?’

“Yes, Eddie. I was just joking.”

He turned to you at your words, staring dead into your eyes. The intensity of his stare made your heart stutter. “Were you trying to make me jealous?”

“Jealous? Wh- Eddie what the fuck are you talking about.”

There was a pregnant pause. Just you and Eddie staring into each other's eyes. Why would you want to make him jealous? You didn’t even know that was an option. You and Eddie were friends. Best friends. Friends don’t get jealous of their friends hanging out with other people. And Billy Hargrove? You had no idea where he pulled that one from. Not once had you ever even mentioned his name around Eddie. There was nothing worth mentioning. You thought Billy was stuck up and an absolute douchebag. Was he nice to look at? Sure. But you were nearly positive his heart was black with hatred and you believed being pretty meant nothing if your personality was shit.

“Uh, Eddie? Are you jealous?” He couldn’t look you in the eyes, instead he was flickering his gaze to anywhere but your face. “Eddie?”

“Would you hate me if I said yes?” He trailed his question off, biting at the skin on his lips as he waited for a response.

“I could never hate you, Eddie. You’re my best friend.”

He rolled his eyes. He rolled his fucking eyes. “Your best friend, right.” He said through a cloud of smoke. You snatched the joint sitting pretty between his fingers and dropped it in his other ashtray, the glass one shaped like a skull.

“Why are you saying it like that? You are my best friend.”

“Maybe I don’t want to be.” He said defiantly and your throat felt like it was going to close and your eyes burned from the prickle of your unshed tears welling in your eyes. He didn't want to be your best friend. Those words made you want to crawl into your body, to somehow vanish into thin air. Not too long ago you two were laughing together in the pool, discussing Steve Harrington's newest girl drama which was all supplied to you by Dustin Henderson. The night before you two made shitty Jiffy Pop while blazed out of your minds and sang karaoke so loud his neighbors came banging on the door, furious.

But now he didn’t want to be friends.

“Is this because I asked you to go on a roadtrip with me?” Your voice wavered and your chin started to tremble. “I know it was a bad idea.”

He strangely looked befuddled. “W-what? No. No, it’s not tha-”

“Well then what did I do?” You whined, tossing your hands about, unsure of what to do or what to say. What to think.

“You didn’t do-” He cut himself off, frustrated with his inability to explain himself. He looked at you, saw the tremble in your chin and shook his head. “You know what, fuck it.”

As soon as the words left his mouth he was surging forward, grasping your face in his hands, and pulling you towards him. His lips met yours with so much force you gasped, hands clutching his hips for purchase. You couldn’t form a single thought as you stood there, eyes squeezed shut, your chest so tight you couldn’t breathe. But then his hand smoothed over your cheek and grasped the back of your neck, his fingernails scraping over the sensitive skin there, and you finally kissed him back. Eddie moaned. The sound so loud it vibrated through your mouth and straight to the core of your being.

You kissed him with every ounce of power you had. Kissed him like you had daydreamed about so many times before as you watched him roll, or play guitar, or sing along to the radio as he drummed against the steering wheel. You kissed him for everytime he smiled and you felt your heart skip a beat. For every time he hugged you just because you looked like you needed one. For every smile he’d ever graced you with. You kissed him like you’d never kissed anyone before in your life, and it was messy and rough and probably looked horrific from a different point of view, but it felt perfect.

Eddie pulled away first, gasping for air in the crook of your neck, his body practically folded into you. “Fuck,” he drew out the word long enough to make you giggle, drunk off his lips.

“Eddie.” You soothed, combing your fingers through his hair. “Why don’t you wanna be my friend?”

He raised to his full height at your question. “Best friends can’t kiss like that.” He’s so out of breath, his words merely a whisper as he continued. “And every goddamn time I look at you all I wanna do is kiss your pretty fucking mouth.”

He left you speechless, looking up into his big brown eyes that you loved so much. He lets you take a second, think on it, all the while stroking his thumb across your cheek.

“How long?” Is all you can ask.

“Shit, since fucking middle school, baby.” He blushed as he said it, the pretty pink darkening to a cherry red as he watched your eyes widen in surprise.

“Middle school?” You whispered.

“I always have. But in middle school you showed up to the snowball in that cute purple dress with your hair all big and your makeup maybe a little too grown for a 12 year old and all I could think about was walking over and asking you to dance. Shit, I wanted to kiss your cheek so fucking bad.” You laughed at the way he scrunched his nose at the last part. You remembered middle school Eddie, his buzzed head and those horrible army green bell bottoms that he’d ripped up to look cool. You liked that Eddie as much as you liked this one, even back then.

“Why didn’t you?” You asked as you pushed up against his chest and wrapped your arms around his waist. In this position he had to look down his nose at you, his dark lashes fluttering across his cheeks.

“You were you and I was the freak.”

“I never thought that about you, Eddie.”

He sighed, kissing your forehead. “I didn’t know that then, baby.”

“Should have asked.” You teased, planting a kiss on his chest when he tried to act offended.

You two stood like that for a while, just wrapped up in each other, testing the waters of this new dynamic. One where you both knew where you stood with each other.

“I’m sorry I upset you earlier, you uh- you kinda surprised me.” He spoke into the crown of your head.

“It was a stupid idea, anyway.”

“No it’s not. I wanna go. I just don’t want to spend all your money doing it. Give me a couple months to save up and we can go.”

“I don’t care about the money, Eds.” You said as you took your head off his chest and gazed up at him.

“I know. Just give me a couple months, okay.”

“Okay, Eddie.”

Silence fell over the two of you. Eddie started swaying to the music at some point, humming along to a Black Sabbath song that was definitely not slow dance material. You kissed the tattoo on his chest as you swayed, looking up at him with your best version of puppy dog eyes.

“Hey, Eddie?” You asked softly. He hummed against you, kissing your forehead as he waited for you to finish your question. “Can you kiss me again?”

“Did you use my shampoo?”

Eddie’s voice raised up from the crease of your neck, a hint of amusement in his words. He had you laid out on his bed, slowly working kisses across your body. What had started as a soft little makeout session bloomed into something more when you had drug your nails up his spine the moment he found that sweet spot just behind your ear.

“Mhm.” You were too distracted to answer, focusing on the feel of his tongue laving against your neck and the way his hips shuddered against your clothed pussy every time you dug your nails into his skin.

“I like when you smell like me.” He mused. “Makes me feel like you’re mine.”

“M’yours, Eddie.” You whispered, guiding his face up to look at him. His lips were puffy and tinted red from sucking hickeys against your throat and his eyes were wide, searching your face for honesty.

“Promise?” He said after a quiet couple seconds and you nodded, leaning your head up to kiss the tip of his nose and the corner of his mouth.

“Promise.”

Eddie’s smile lit up his entire face, all dimpled and pink cheeked. It made your heart swell.

“Can I taste you?”

He asked in such a polite way, it caught you off guard. You couldn’t remember ever having a guy ask to eat you out. It was always something you hinted at and they brushed aside. One guy had even told you that eating a girl out made him soft and in the same breath forced your head down on his dick. But here was Eddie, looking at you so expectantly and yet so patiently.

“Yeah.”

Eddie didn’t waste a second getting to his knees on the mattress, fingers fumbling with the button of your shorts as he mumbled to himself. “Oh shit, okay. Fuck, I’ve wanted to do this for so fucking long, you don’t even understand. Pretty baby. So fucking pretty.”

You helped him shimmy the black fabric from your legs, Eddie tossing them over his shoulder with such force they knocked his acoustic guitar, that sat across from the bed, off its stand. He paid no attention to the instruments sharp bellow as it hit the carpet, instead he was transfixed on your purple lace panties.

“Christ.” He breathed, his index and middle finger tracing up the wet spot that had been steadily growing from the moment he kissed you. “You’re so wet.”

“Because of you.” You keened, Eddie suddenly adding more force in his stroking right against your clit. He flashed his eyes up to yours.

“Yeah?”

You nodded.

“Shit, I never thought I’d hear you say that outside of my dreams.” He seems to lose himself in his heavy caressing while you grip his sheets so hard your knuckles turn white.

“Eddie, please.” You couldn’t stop the whine that escaped your lips, dipping your fingers under the band of your panties and impatiently trying to take them off.

Eddie chuckled to himself as he watched you struggle. “Okay, okay. I’ve got you baby. Calm down.” He gave your panties the same treatment, peeling them down your thighs and tossing them over his shoulder. He bit his lip as he lowered his stomach to the bed, face to face with your weeping core. “So eager to be on my tongue, huh. Who woulda thought you’d be sobbing at the thought of me, The Freak, licking your sweet little pussy.”

“Eddie,” You were so touch starved, so desperate to feel his mouth on you, that you thought you might actually cry if he didn’t do something. “Shut the fuck up, please. Please. Just… Oh, Eddie, please.”

“Mm, okay.”

The second his warm tongue hit you, you cried out. Hands fumbling for purchase and finding it in his dark brown hair. You gripped the strands at the roots hard enough to hurt but Eddie only moaned and tightened his grip on your thighs, pulling them open even further to sink his tongue as far into your pussy as he could. His nose brushed against your swollen clit with each delve of his tongue, the muscle exploring every inch of your sensitive pussy. You trained your eyes on his nicotine stained ceiling, trying so hard to push back the fire rising in your stomach. You’d never felt anything like it before.

“That feels so fucking good, Eddie.” You loosened your grip on him to pet at his hair, unsure if it was to praise him or soothe yourself. Peeling your eyes from the ceiling you cast your hazy stare down only to find his big brown eyes watching you from between your thighs, mouth latched around your sensitive clit as he alternated from gentle sucks to fast flicks of his tongue. Your thighs burned as you rocked your hips against his face, fucking into his mouth for more friction, hands shaking against his cheeks. He looked so unbelievably pretty staring up at you with so much fondness and lust in his eyes, his mouth and tongue completely ravishing you like no man ever had before.. So you tell him…

“You’re so pretty like this, Eddie. You- oh fuuck- you’re always so pretty b-but-” You let out a wanton cry as Eddie slipped two fingers into your achy cunt. He finds that spot inside you that whitens your eyesight almost immediately, like he knew exactly where it was. Between his fingers and his devilish tongue you were seeing stars, tears slipping freely at how extreme the sensation was. “Oh god, Eddie. Eddie, I’m- I’m gonna-” You couldn’t even fucking speak anymore.

Eddie acknowledged you with a shuddering groan, quickening his movements to drive you over the precipice. His eyes never once leave your face.

You came with a small scream, hips arched off the bed, your fingernails leaving crescent moons into the skin of his wrist. The feeling was all consuming, overwhelming in all the best ways. You let out a sob as he eased you through it, rubbing your thighs comfortingly as they shook with fervor around his head. You could hear yourself speaking but it was muffled by the roaring in your ears; it sounded like you were speaking in tongues. Eddie heard every word.

“Ohgodohgodohgodohgod. Don’t stop, baby. Never fucking stop. So good, s-so fucking good. You’re so fucking good, Eddie. Oh my god, I love you.”

Eddie kissed your thighs as your orgasm faded, your burning lungs gasping for air. When you could finally breathe again, he left one last lingering kiss before crawling up your body. You held his face with shaking hands when he reached you, the biggest shit eating grin on his cum soaked face.

“You love me, huh?” He pondered with a fleeting kiss to your lips. “Or do you just love the way I eat your pussy?”

“Both you fucking deviant. Both.” Each inhale rattled in your chest and every exhale burned the lining of your throat. Eddie chuckled as he kissed you again, pressing his hard cock against your still sensitive core.

“Who knew you were a fucking screamer, baby.”

“I could tell you that was all you but then you’d fucking gloat about it for the rest of eternity.”

“Still might.” He hummed, ghosting kisses over your eyes and nose and lips. “You look so fucking hot when you cum. Never seen anything like it. Coulda cum right then and there but I wanna be inside you.”

You reached a hand between your bodies, running a heavy finger over the outline of his cock in his sweats. “Do you have a condom?” You asked, still a little breathless.

Eddie nodded excitedly before bounding up from the bed and over to his dresser. He rifled through it aggressively. Cursing here and there as he tossed socks and a random cassette tape onto the floor in his frenzied search. When he finally finds what he was looking for he exclaimed to himself, “Fucking finally.”.

He leaves the mess he made, struggling to pull his sweats and boxers off as he makes his way back over to you, sprawled out and butt naked in his bed. Once he finally gets there, after narrowly avoiding tripping over his own boots on the floor, he crawls on top of you with the aluminum wrapper between his teeth. You watched with bated breath as he ripped it open, rolling it down the dark pink head of his cock. Once he’s done he positioned himself in the apex of your thighs, fisting his cock and smoothing the latex covered head through your slick covered folds.

“I, uh, I’m probably not gonna last that long.” He said, his eyes downcast, watching the way your hips rutted into him with every swipe of his cock.

“It’s okay, Eds. Just fuck me.” You grabbed his chin, forcing his face up. When your eyes met you smiled at him sweetly and added, “Please.”

Eddie wasted no time pressing into you, his thick cock stretching you wide as he bottomed out inside you. His cheeks were flamed pink, a bead of sweat bleeding from his hairline down the curve of his nose. He pulled out gently and plunged back in, the tip of his tongue poking through his teeth as he concentrated on his slow deliberate thrusts. You dug your heels into the backs of his thighs, hoping he'd get the hint to go faster. Harder. The slow drag of his cock against that sweet spot inside of you was agonizing. But he only ignored your pressing and not so subtle whines, folding himself over top of you with one arm wrapped around your back and a callused hand holding your cheek. He was being so gentle. It wasn’t something you were used to. Every other guy you’d been with just used you to get off as fast as they could. But Eddie was taking his time, having found a pace that kept you needing more. You found yourself giggling at a particularly languid thrust and Eddie’s round eyes, with his pupils completely blown black, shot up to yours.

“What’s so funny?” He asked, stilling himself inside of you.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. It’s just…” You giggled again and his eyes narrowed. “I just thought, who would have imagined you to be such a gentle lover. You know, with your bad boy–heavy metal image and all.”

“Don’t forget local drug dealer and devil worshiper.” His smile cracked wide as you giggled again. That giggle, however, turned into a sharp cry with a snap of his hips. “I can be gentle. When I want to be.”

You could only nod at this, your breath lodged in your throat at another hard snap of his hips. Your comment had urged him to go faster. To show you that, yes, he could be gentle. But he could also fuck you senseless.

“Imagine what they’d think of you, baby.” He whispered into your ear, forehead pressed hard to the side of your head, his hips building into a maddening pace. He had thrown your leg over his shoulder, allowing him to go deeper, to hit that spot inside your core that brought tears to your eyes. “You were always such a good girl. Hawkins number one girl. Do you even remember what they said when they found out we were friends?”

You shook your head, unable to speak with how hard and deliberate his thrusts were.

“They said I was corrupting you.” He released a breathy, dark laugh. His hand slotting through the strands of your hair to grip the roots. “But they didn’t know that you sought me out, hm. Followed me to the woods just so we could be alone. Made me laugh. Made me feel special.”

You remembered that day. Remembered watching him walk through the tree line all alone, that black metal lunch pail gripped tightly in his hand. You knew what he was doing, skipping class to go smoke up. You’d seen him do it before. But that day you followed after him, nervously gripping the ruched fabric of your cheer skirt as you went. You couldn’t help yourself, You wanted to know him so badly.

“Everyday after that, you found me.” His thrusts were starting to get sloppy and you could tell in the way he held you, in the way his words doubled as moans, that he was getting close. “I tried so hard to keep you from getting too close. People are shunned for being close to me. But you wouldn’t fucking quit. Always so fucking stubborn. It’s like you couldn’t stay away from me.”

“I couldn’t.” You cried out, wrapping your arms around his neck. His hair tickled your cheeks, his breath fanning over your lips as he held himself over you now. His brows furrowed in concentration as his cock throbbed inside of you. You clenched at the sight of him, looking so pretty and so fucked, and all yours. Because he was. He was it for you.

“Ah, shit.” He whimpered. He wouldn’t last much longer, but Eddie being who Eddie was, you knew he was gonna talk the whole way through it. “You fucking- You broke down every fucking wall I’d ever built. Smashed right fucking through them and straight into my fucking heart. I-I wanted to be good for you. Good enough that you’d want me like I wanted you. You corrupted me.”

“E-Eddie, I think I’m gonna c-cum.” That burning heat had returned but it was different this time. You felt it everywhere, from the tips of your fingers to the bottom of your toes. It thrummed every nerve like the string of a guitar, vibrating you to the bone.

“Good.” He said harshly, the word sounding almost mean falling from his red swollen lips, but the fingers stroking your face were still gentle. “I want you to scream for me again. I want everyone in this shitty trailer park, in this shitty fucking town, to know that I’m the one making you feel like this. Crying for my cock, desperate for me.”

You couldn’t handle it, couldn’t see through the tears falling, couldn’t feel anything but him and the white hot pleasure he was gifting to you. You were right there, so fucking close.

“I want them to know that you are mine.” Each word was punctuated with a hard, albeit sloppy, thrust and you came.

You came with a scream, wrenched from your throat so roughly it seared its way out of your lungs and into the air. You felt yourself clench down on him, hard, and his hips shuddered violently against you, succumbing to his own orgasm from your vise lock grip on his cock. He buried his face into the crook of your neck as he rocked his hips and moaned through it, your name and curses sounding like the sweetest song you’d ever heard.

“Jesus Christ.” He groaned before his body collapsed on top of yours. You could feel his thighs trembling against your own, mirroring the intensity of the feeling you both shared as you came.

The both of you laid there, shrouded in the warmth of each other's embrace, until finally he rolled away. Wincing as he pulled out and discarded the condom. You could only lay there and watch him rise from the bed on shaky legs to grab the half smoked joint from earlier. He placed it between his lips and lit it, standing there in all his naked glory, puffing on it till he could get a nice long hit. The slight skunky smell filled the room and you closed your eyes, relishing in it. But then, you were hit in the chest by something light and lacey.

“For your modesty.” Eddie smirked as you held your purple panties up in the light.

“Thanks.” You croaked, your voice hoarse and your throat sore.

Eddie crawled over you, flopping his sweaty body down next to yours. He handed you the joint, which you took gratefully, taking your own long drag and passing it back. The both of you laid in a comfortable silence, legs draped over each other and his fingers drawing lazy patterns on your bare thigh. But then something occurred to you and you turned your head to look at him.

“I didn’t corrupt you.” You said to him and he rolled his eyes, huffing out a laugh.

“Yes, you did.”

“No I did not, asshole.” You guffawed, slapping your hand playfully on his bare chest.

“I wear my seatbelt and listen to fucking Journey because of you. That’s corruption.” He teased with a cute little smirk, grabbing your thigh and squeezing the soft flesh there.

“That’s just safety and taste, baby. If you want me to corrupt you there are… different things I have in mind.” You watched his eyes widen and he laughed.

“I’ll keep that in mind for next time.” He said as he leaned in, his lips tasted of you and the weed he had smoked and you smiled behind the kiss, chest full and body sore.

“Hey,” He started as he rested his head on your shoulder, gazing up at you like a little puppy. “You wanna go watch a movie? I can make some Jiffy Pop and we can cuddle on the couch?”

“Who’s picking the movie?” You asked, fingers playing with the ends of his hair.

“I had Steve score me a copy of Poltergeist 2. Picked it up from Family Video while you were at the store earlier.”

You sat up a little, an incredulous look etched into your features while he gave you those damn puppy eyes.

“Eddie, you literally told me two weeks ago that you'd rather be decapitated than watch that movie."

Eddie only shrugged, that casual slouch of his shoulder that you had become so accustomed to, and offered you a pretty smile.

“I would. But you wanted to see it. I'll suck it up, but only for you."

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