#leto atreides i x reader

[molluskwritesfic]

Black Herons - Ch. 8

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Taglist: @sanfransolomitatm @karolajnx0yep @joossieisdabomb @slyterinstuff

A/N: Six months is a ridiculously long time to write 20 pages. But here we are.

Pairing: Duke Leto Atreides I x Fem!OC (slow burn)

Rating: M

Word Count: 5k

Chapter Eight: Lovers’ Paradigm

Part Two

House Nastaran had fallen.

The dawn sky charred. The endless prairie burned.

Trine Nastaran tucked herself deeper into the wardrobe. The comforting scent of her father’s clothes almost smothered that of smoke.

Almost.

She was eight years old. Just old enough to remember when the She-Wolf of the Badb had been a bedtime story. A joke, really. No more than a curiosity wreaking havoc on the other side of the planet. Before long, it was something the grownups whispered about when they thought she couldn’t hear. Now, it was Trine’s reality.

She-Wolf of the Badb. Dowager Countess. Rhiannon the Conqueror.

Many names for a hero. Many names for a nightmare.

The door of the wardrobe clattered open, and Trine found herself looking up into the panicked face of her governess. Sweat darkened the loose hairs that had flown wild and plastered them to her cheeks. Usually, the sight of the woman who had all but raised her was a comfort to Trine, but now the feral look in the old woman’s eyes frightened her more than ever.

“We have to go.” The governess hissed, snagging a coat off the rack above Trine’s head and tugging it on the young girl’s thin arms. “Quickly now. No time for tears.”

She hadn’t realized that she had been crying. Trine scrubbed the sleeve of the coat across her face and smeared it with snot. It was her father’s coat. It hung comically off her tiny frame.

No matter. The governess grabbed her upper arm in a death grip and dragged her into the next room—her father’s bedchambers.

Once inside, the governess spun her around so they were face to face.

“Where is it?” She demanded. “Show me!”

When Trine couldn’t find her voice, the governess gave her a sharp shake. Fresh tears rolled down her face, but she pointed to the wall behind her parent’s bed.

The governess hurried forward and fumbled around until she found the switch disguised as an imperfection in the paint. The wall swung in, and the governess wasted no time in dragging Trine through it.

The secret passages hidden within the Nastaran ancestral home were dark, but they didn’t dare try to find a light. Trine hurried blindly—guided only by her governess, who was in turn guided only by her hand pressed against the curve of the wall—as the carefully crafted stone of the house shifted to smooth bedrock.

The deeper they went, the colder it became. Trine drew her father’s coat tighter around her. She knew better than to complain.

Ironians didn’t fear the cold.

The thought of her father caused tears to spring back into her eyes. She hallucinated wildly in the inky darkness, assaulted by images of her family and the echoes of their laughter.

Her father’s hands, worn and rough. Her oldest brother teaching her to ride. The younger, stuffing his face with pudding, bulging his cheeks like a bark weasel just to make her laugh.

They were all she had ever known.

By now, they were all certainly dead.

Trine was young, but she knew the way these things worked. And the She-Wolf of the Badb was not known for mercy. The Nastaran bloodline was to be sponged from existence and its assets absorbed into the Dering war machine.

Heirs to the Nastaran title—sons with vengeance in their hearts and a legitimate claim to conquered lands—would not be tolerated.

Trine’s brothers—aged only sixteen and twelve—would not be allowed to survive. Even if they did somehow escape as Trine had, they would be hunted down. The Countess was very thorough.

A daughter, though, might be overlooked.

Trine knew that this was why her governess had come for her only, even though she loved Trine’s brothers as her own sons. Had raised and taught them for most of their lives.

That was the harsh reality of it. The price of saving her brothers would mean being hunted, and one child was better than none.

Freezing water splashed on their shoes as Trine and her governess plunged deeper into the darkness, driven by fear and the promise of light.

Trine stayed silent. Her tears cooled on her cheeks.

Ironians weren’t afraid of the cold.

Paul was quick and light on his feet, but Duncan was easily three times his size, and the sword was heavy.

Duncan’s shield shimmered as Paul’s sword skimmed harmlessly across it. After months of training with knives, the Atreides Weapons Master had decided it was time for the young Lord to start learning how to handle larger—and decidedly heavier—weapons.

“Keep your guard up, boy,” Duncan encouraged, holding his own sword easily in one hand. He demonstrated the correct height to hold the blade, keeping it level across his chest.

With shaking hands, Paul did his best to copy the stance. He knew that building strength was one of the points of this exercise—that he would struggle with it until he didn’t—but they’d been working for only ten minutes, and he was already exhausted.

He did his best to apply some of his mother’s training—steady his breathing, slow his heartbeat—with only moderate success. Bene Gesserit techniques were hard enough to master during quiet meditation; during combat training, it was near impossible.

Then again, he was only eight years old.

Duncan kept his moves slow and predictable, giving Paul time to get accustomed to the unfamiliar weight of a longer blade. They ran through a few basic forms, and Paul practiced a little with swinging and blocking.

By the time Duncan called an end to the session, Paul’s arms were made of jelly. He felt good, though. Accomplished.

Duncan was pleased as well.

“You’re off to a good start, lad. You’ll be the finest fighter in the Imperium before you know it.” His gaze shifted to something behind Paul. “Wouldn’t you agree, M’Lady?”

Paul turned to see Lady Rhiannon standing by the door, leaning back against the wall with her arms crossed nonchalantly against her chest.

He hadn’t noticed her come in, which was surprising in itself. Even more so since Paul hadn’t seen her much of late. Like his father, Rhiannon had been consumed by the preparations for the upcoming trip to Ahmes.

Lady Rhiannon tilted her head in consideration.

“You’ve got impressive reflexes, Paul. That’s very good. You’re over-committing to the swings a bit, but that’s an easy fix.” The smile she gave him was full of warmth. “Yes, you’ll make a fine warrior some day.”

Touched by the sincerity behind her words, Paul ducked his head shyly and thanked her.

Duncan twirled his sword experimentally, not at all tired from the same exercise that had exhausted Paul so thoroughly. He pointed at Lady Rhiannon with the blade.

“And that’s from one of the finest fighters to ever be produced by one of the Houses of Iro. Trained by a Ginaz Swordmaster, too. It’s a high compliment, lad.”

Paul perked up. He hadn’t known that. “You were trained by a Swordmaster?”

The Duchess smiled wistfully.

“Alecto Ivaylo. I miss him, the ornery old fart.”

“I didn’t know Swordmasters were hired to train Highborn Ladies.”

“It’s not common,” Duncan explained, “but on Iro, assassins are. When your children are always at risk, it’s better to prepare them early.”

Lady Rhiannon sniffed.

“A daughter dies just as easily as a son. All children should know how to wield a blade.”

“I’m starting to find that I agree.” Duncan leveled his sword at the Duchess of Caladan challengingly. “Care to demonstrate?”

Paul would have thought that any Lady with a title would look strange with a sword, but there was a gleam in Lady Rhiannon’s eyes that told him he was very wrong. Restlessness. Bloodlust.

He looked to his stepmother hopefully.

Rhiannon smiled.

She looked so graceful and formal in her daywear, but as she strode across to the weapon rack, Paul could imagine the intentionality that was hidden behind the thing she wore; the chiffon and silk jumpsuit was loose enough for free movement, form fitting enough to not get in the way. She kicked off her expensive shoes, and beneath them were slippers with gripped soles.

The sword she chose was of medium size. She tested the balance. Nodded her satisfaction.

Duncan bounced on his toes, impatient. “Shields or not, M’Lady?”

“Not. I don’t believe in shields.”

“As you wi—”

Rhiannon attacked. Hard.

Duncan barely fended off her first volley, immediately on the defensive. Rhiannon was fast. Vicious. Her last few months had been filled with bureaucracy, and she had a lot of energy to burn.

Duncan recovered quickly from his initial surprise, and was equally quick to match her ferocity.

The room was filled with the ringing of steel on steel. He pushed forward, striking high and forcing her back a few steps.

Rhiannon twisted to the side. Danced under his arm to get under his guard. Duncan adjusted to the tactic, stepping back again to leave some room between them.

Paul, who had retreated to watch from a safe distance, could almost believe that this was a real fight. To him, at least, it looked as if each swing of Rhiannon’s sword was intended as a killing blow. But Lady Rhiannon was a skilled swordsman, and could be trusted not to cause harm unless she wanted to do so.

Although Duncan was similarly skilled, he seemed to be erring on the side of caution. Training scars were not uncommon, even at the most advanced levels.

It would take a braver man than him to accidentally mark a Duchess.

Rhiannon, though, wasn’t having it.

When Duncan hesitated, missing out on a swing that chanced coming too close to her face, she rewarded him by ramming the hilt of her sword into his stomach.

Duncan doubled over, winded. Between one blink and the next, Rhiannon had disarmed him. She stood over him, the tip of her blade hovering in front of his nose, eyes sparking with annoyance.

“I’m not here to be trained by you, Swordmaster. Treat me as an equal, or you are useless to me.”

The Swordmaster stared along the keen edge of the blade. His face cracked with a sheepish grin.

“Yes, M’Lady.”

Rhiannon held there for a second longer to get her point across, then stepped away to give him space to rise.

“Again.”

With the late afternoon light streaming in through the window, and Leto’s hand trailing lazily across her bare ribs, Jessica could almost pretend that nothing had changed.

She had slept in this room, in this bed, for the better part of ten years. The sound of Leto breathing beside her was more familiar to her than that of her own. But their current physical closeness wasn’t enough to cross the emotional gulf that yawned between them.

“Move back in with me.”

The request was so quiet, so hopeful, that she almost said yes out of instinct. Jessica’s heart twisted, and she sat up.

“You know I can’t.”

Leto sat up on his elbows, looked as if he wanted to reach out to draw her back against him.

Jessica almost wished that he would.

“I don’t see why you need your own room.”

“You know why.”

Jessica slipped out from underneath the sheets and bent to collect her discarded clothes from the floor. Distantly, she realized that they were doing the same thing; they both hid their pain—him with his frustration, her with her cold distance—while pretending that they didn’t miss each other desperately.

“I’ve told you why,” she went on. “You don’t listen.”

“And I’ve told you. The Duchess doesn’t care.” In this room, she was always the Duchess—never Rhia. “She has her lovers to keep her company. What we keep between us is of no concern to her.”

She wanted to shout at him, You still aren’t listening!

She busied herself with dressing, instead.

“I know you don’t like her,” Leto tried to reason. He sat up and swung his legs off the bed. “Has she done anything to upset you? If she has, please tell me.”

“This isn’t about like,” Jessica responded coldly.

“What, then?”

Things were changing around Castle Caladan; Jessica’s Bene Gesserit trained senses were picking up on patterns—new people in the castle, coming and going, fulfilling roles that couldn’t entirely be explained. She didn’t have access to enough of the documentation to prove it, but she was sure that it went farther than Castle Caladan—off world exports, transportation, immigration, and trade—threads woven through every aspect of House Atreides and it’s holdings, forming an elaborate spider web with the Duchess Atreides at the center.

Leto strongly distrusted the Sisterhood. Disliked them for their manipulative ways. If Jessica told him everything she knew, he would demand to know her source. After that, he wouldn’t believe her anyway.

“Do you not find it odd,” Jessica started slowly, choosing her words with great care, “that the Duchess was not presented to you until after the engagement was final?”

“I… didn’t ask to meet her sooner.”

Leto was frowning, but Jessica heard the uncertainty in his voice and knew that she had touched a nerve.

“But it was strange, yes?” Jessica pressed. “Almost as if they were making the arrangements in secret.”

There was a moment where Leto’s brow furrowed. Jessica watched as he turned it over in his mind, hoping against hope that he would connect the dots and draw his own conclusions.

“We… considered the possibility that they may have had reasons to keep her hidden. Insanity or eccentricity, maybe.” Then the moment passed. Leto’s face hardened. “But we were wrong. Lady Rhiannon has proven herself to be a fine, capable woman. I haven’t had doubts about that for a long time.”

Jessica thought of a snake on the first day of spring. Slowly uncoiling after months of frozen sleep. Stretching out, reviving itself on rocks warmed by the sun.

The Duchess had been sleeping, but there were signs that she was waking up.

“Were they hiding her from you?” Jessica’s voice was low with urgency. “Or was it you they were hiding from her?”

“Am I supposed to know what that means?”

“How much do you know about her, truly? She walks in blood and shadows, and it is a mistake to assume that she has our best interests at heart.”

The shutters slammed shut on Leto’s expression, and Jessica knew in that moment that she had lost him.

“Jealousy is unbecoming of you Jessica,” he said coolly. “And I have to say, trying to sew dissent between the Duke and Duchess of Caladan is beneath you.”

“I only mean to say,” Jessica managed to keep her voice calm and even, “that perhaps you allowed yourself to trust her too quickly.”

“Is that it?” Leto demanded. “You don’t trust her? Why?”

“Why do you?” She shot back.

Leto blinked, dumbfounded. As if not-trusting her had never occurred to him. “She’s my wife.”

It would always come back to that, wouldn’t it? She turned her back on him. “And I am not.”

Hurt flickered across his handsome features. “You have my love, Jessica. And you always will. Is that not enough?”

She glanced back at him and thought, I have your love, but I have never had your trust.

Jessica left the room.

A box was waiting for Jessica when she returned to her chambers. It was very large—about two feet wide and three feet tall—and made of highly polished wood. Intricate patterns ran along the framework, the swirling shapes of great predators and human figures wielding blades. Distinctly Ironian.

Jessica circled the box warily. There was a folded piece of stationery attached to the top. A note. Handwritten.

It read:

Sorry for being an ass.

~Rhia

Alarmed, Jessica stepped back from the box on instinct. The note implied a gift, but what reasons did the Duchess have for giving her anything? She was suddenly hyper aware of how easily this could be some kind of trick. Would the Duchess dare give her something that could cause her harm? Not this directly, surely. Not with her name on a note and Ironian designs on the wood. Lady Atreides was too smart for that.

Jessica wasn’t completely convinced, but knew that she didn’t have much choice. The box was held closed by a gold latch on the lid—wlysteel, she noted—which triggered the sound of mechanisms tumbling from within. Jessica was almost surprised when the top of the box slid open, instead of exploding or emitting some kind of poison. She was glad that she was alone, because she wouldn’t have wanted anyone to hear her quiet gasp when she saw what was inside.

There were many valuable natural resources found in the mines on Iro. Some were sought after for their usefulness—the steel, coal, salt, and such—others, for their rarity. Diamonds, sapphires, and rubies, to name a few. But there were others considered far more precious, so rare that they could only be found on Iro, and nowhere else in the universe.

Viimatar was a very rare, very beautiful crystal that formed within iridescent geodes—usually near veins of quartz or coal. They were so rare, in fact, that the only specimen owned by a Landsraad family, outside those who had spent generations on the planet, was that of the Emperor. Jessica had never seen viimatar before, but knew from readings about Iro that a single geode was generally about the size of an apple. The viimatar before her was roughly the size of a human head.

And oh, was it beautiful. The watery sunlight that came through her chamber windows passed through the translucent crystal, setting its jagged interior ablaze and casting the room in a myriad of colors. Every hue imaginable, glowing and shimmering and melting together in pools of light dancing across the walls.

It took Jessica a few moments to collect herself enough to tear her eyes away from the priceless gift. Tucked into the box beside the geode was a small parcel made of black velvet. Beside that, another letter.

She opened the parcel first. Gold coins fell shimmering into her palm, and she recognized the sharp glint of more wlysteel. They were smooth and thin, each embellished with a delicate carving of a heron on one side. More Ironian craftsmanship.

Putting the coins aside, she unfolded the letter and began to read:

In the religious teachings of the Old Ironian Gods, each person has not one face, but many—one face to wear for every person we meet throughout our lifetimes. The face we wear for our children is not the same one we wear for our parents, nor are either of those the same as the face we show to our lovers, our friends, our teachers, or our servants. Every face is different, but all are true, and it is the combination of these truths that make us who we are.

When I was choosing a face for you, Jessica, I chose incorrectly. For that, I sincerely apologize.

Over breakfast, I told you that I thought complete honesty between us was the best way to confront our situation. I still believe that. But it wasn’t fair of me to demand vulnerability and offer none in return. Unfortunately, my most successful relationships tend to be political. For those of a more personal nature, I tend to come up short.

Another point of interest: My maternal grandmother was the daughter of a Vidar Chieftain. My Dweller heritage is very important to me, and I observe as many of their ways as I can.

In the bag, you’ll find twelve gold coins. They are called forseti—wlysteel tokens from the forge of Clan Vidar. Coins of Truth, in the Dwellers’ tongue. They are often used when an outsider joins a Clan, or sometimes to resolve quarrels. The outsider brings forseti from their home forge and gives them to members of the Clan they wish to join. The Clan members will then give the forseti back to the new member, and ask a question. The new member is then honorbound to answer the question with absolute truth.

A coin for a truth. I have given you twelve.

Twelve forseti. Twelve questions. Twelve truths.

Of course, you have no reason to trust that I will abide by the Dweller code of honor. Although I have Dweller blood, I am not one. I don’t believe in gods, so I am not compelled by the Old Ironian Gods to answer truthfully. But I have no control of that. As a Bene Gesserit, I trust you will rely on your instincts and observation. All I ask for is your consideration.

~Rhia

Puzzled, Jessica sank down into a nearby chair to read the letter again. She stayed there for a long time, watching the patterns of light and color play lazily along the walls, thinking.

The relationship between wolves and ravens was a strange one. The ravens acted as the wolf's eyes, and the wolf provided meat. Ancient, divine mutualism in action.

At the old fortress of Valley Keep, the ravens were circling. Viggo knew that the wolf couldn't be far behind.

Usually, Viggo didn't mind the ravens. When the soldiers of the Badb were this comfortable occupying his home, it meant that Rhiannon was either also there, or would be soon.

There had been a time where he had looked forward to his lover's visits. At the beginning of the war, when the fighting had been in neighboring lands, he had seen her often. As the fifth son of House Taryn, which had submitted rather than fight, becoming the lover of the fearsome general was an acceptable way to broker influence where he otherwise would have had none.

And in all honesty, he had enjoyed the attention; had sorely been missing it - and her - since the war had drawn her away to the far reaches of the planet.

But then an old friend had arrived at his doorstep, ragged and begging to be taken in, and Viggo hadn't been able to refuse.

Eldon Vish was a good natured man ambling his way through his seventies. Good natured. Funny. Worthy of sympathy.

Many years ago, when Viggo was young, House Taryn had been an ally of House Nastaran. Eldon, a Nastaran advisor, had been the kind old man to take pity on the bored, lonely Viggo who had been dragged halfway across the planet just to be ignored while his father and older brothers played politics.

Viggo had never met his grandfather, but he liked to think that he would’ve been something like Eldon. Someone that would’ve taught him to play chess and told exciting stories while pretending not to notice the boy sneaking sips from his mug of ale.

Years had passed since those days, but Viggo still held them close to his chest.

Had it been an ordinary refugee, or even just an average enemy soldier, Viggo knew that Rhiannon wouldn't care. But it wasn't either, and therefore suicide.

Viggo hadn't seen Rhiannon in months. She had other lovers — enough of them for it to not be entirely unreasonable to think she had forgotten about him entirely. And it was that distance, and perhaps just a touch of jealousy, that had made him feel secure enough to take such a foolish risk.

But what was done was done. Now, the only thing that mattered was keeping both himself and Eldon alive.

Viggo strode purposefully through the halls of Valley Keep, trying very hard to not look panicked — maybe just as if he had important, normal business to attend to. Fifth son or not, he was still responsible for a great deal of his family's finances, and was typically very busy.

Viggo let himself into the room he had loaned to Eldon without knocking and was quick to lock it behind him.

"We don't have much time," Viggo said briskly, seeing that Eldon was still sitting at the small table with his half-eaten lunch. "There's a ground car waiting for you by the servant's entrance. If you leave now -- "

Blood.

So much blood.

Viggo dropped to his knees, his throat full of bile. Far too late, he realized that Eldon's corpse had not been the room's only occupant.

"You didn't have to kill him," Viggo protested weakly. "He was old. He wasn't a threat to you."

Rhiannon idly flicked through another page of Eldon's journals, hardly deigning to glance at him from where she sat at the room's tiny desk.

"The elderly have as much, if not more, influence than their successors," she said coolly. "You know that as well as anyone."

Viggo slumped forward as he felt all the fight drain out of him. "I'm sorry."

Rhiannon shot him a look. Viggo wished that there was anger in it. Betrayal. But it was worse than that. There was only annoyance. Boredom.

His heart broke. Viggo had shown that he was willing to get in her way, and he couldn't even do it in a way that mattered.

He was the fifth son. Nothing he had ever done in his life had mattered.

Despite the lingering bitterness, the thought of his family sent a spike of panic down his spine.

"It was just me," he said hurriedly. "No one helped me.”

"I know."

Of course she did.

"How did you find out?"

Rhiannon shot him another unimpressed look.

Viggo eased himself slowly to his feet. He tried not to look at Eldon's body. Failed. Viggo looked back to Rhiannon. "I loved you, you know."

She turned another page. "That isn't my fault."

Something cold pressed against Viggo's back. Pressed into his back between his shoulder blades. Not the direction he had expected his death to come from.

Viggo reached around behind him. His fingers bumped against something hard, but it was the wrong angle for him to grab it. He knew the wetness he felt was his own blood. There was no pain, which he supposed was a small mercy.

He glared at Rhiannon reproachfully as his vision swam. Not important enough for her to do it herself, then.

As his legs finally gave out and he slumped to the floor, he got a look at his murderer. The face was achingly familiar, and his heart broke all over again.

Chantria.

He tried to gasp his sister's name, but no sound came out. The raven tattoo on her forearm, dark with new ink, answered all his questions anyway.

Chantria knelt beside him. She fixed him with a look of sympathy, but there was no regret.

"I'm sorry," she said, lightly touching her fingers to his forehead. "But someone has to look out for our family's interests."

I'm family too, was the last thought Viggo had before he succumbed to swirling darkness.

I'm family too.

In theory, the Duke and Duchess’s departure from Caladan was a quiet affair, especially when compared to the pomp and grandeur that went into similar occasions hosted by other houses. In reality, it was as politically charged as any event of state.

Even if it was only by pilots, guards, and workmen, the senior members of House Atreides were being watched—and as loved as they were by the people they ruled, by nature, those people loved gossip more. 

So when they said their farewells, Jessica dressed nice and smiled warmly at Leto, regardless of the tension still lingering between them. Leto kissed the back of her hand, his eyes lined with sadness and regret, even though he wore a smile of his own. 

If Jessica wanted to keep her family safe from the She-wolf of the Badb, she would have to take matters into her own hands.

Lady Rhiannon was as lovely as ever, dressed in a delicate silver outfit that she had changed into only a few minutes before, having only just returned from paying her lover in the village one last visit.  She would likely change out of again once they were safely on board. 

Onlookers were eager for signs of drama between the Duchess and the Duke’s lover, but Jessica knew that, despite their differences, she and Rhiannon would not give them any. 

Rhiannon touched Jessica’s elbow lightly. Their eyes met, and Rhiannon’s gaze was unflinchingly open. Jessica was confused by the calm patience held in her expression. The gift, as well as the proposal, had gone unmentioned.

Jessica’s mind was still spinning. There was an opportunity here, if she had the courage to seize it.

The Bene Gesserit had infiltrated almost every house in the Imperium. They warmed the beds of noblemen; they mothered their children; they nudged history in the ways the Sisterhood wanted.

In this way, lonely men were easy to manipulate. They needed lovers. Confidants. The Sisters of the Bene Gesserit were trained to excel at both.

Rhiannon was dangerous, but so were many of the noblemen of the Imperium. Who was to say that Jessica couldn’t get close to Rhiannon in the same way? 

She thought it might be possible, now that she knew that the Duchess had a taste for women as well as men. Risky, yes. But possible.

Very risky.

Dare she even try?

She needed time to think.

Thankfully, she had just that. The Duke and Duchess’ absence would allow her both the time to think and space to start formulating a plan.

Leto held Paul close to his chest. He whispered something into his son’s ear that made the boy smile. Rhiannon rested a hand lightly on Paul’s shoulder, quirking an eyebrow at Khrysos, who peeked out at her from Paul’s collar. 

Rhiannon’s proposition had given her a good starting point. She would have to use her questions wisely.

Jessica wrapped her arm around her son’s shoulders, hugging him protectively to her side while they watched the Ducal yacht ease off the tarmac and away from Caladan. 

She thought that Paul noticed her unease. He looked up at her questioningly, but her only response was to hold him tighter.

It was worth the risk.

[controld3vil]

chaotic duo

pairing(s): dune cast x actor!reader (platonic), oscar isaac x actor!reader

synopsis: requested by this ask!

⤷ alt: even your on-screen son can't deny how delightful his on-screen parents were.

notes: absolutely no shade to rebecca ferguson i adore her too much. reader is considered to have fem pronouns. ALSO ive been feeling iffy about trying to write for dune characters?? personally, although i love writing these actor!reader stories, writing for the actual characters i feel would be more challenging. dune's still pretty new to me but i kinda wanna give it a shot if i can make a good storyline T-T

It all started with the Dune Cast Q&A brought together by Nerdist. Timothee Chalamet and Denis Villeneuve had just finished chatting with the host, Stephen Colbert about their perspectives on Paul's character. Much emphasis had gone on the young actor's performance. And Denis's decision to cast such a well-experienced one.

After finishing up their last question together, Stephen decides to introduce two additional members. "Timothee let's bring out the man and the woman who play your parents, Duke Leto Atreides and Lady Jessica." A transition between screens to display your camera view and Oscar's. He introduces both your names.

"Hi!" You grin at the camera, comfortably leaning against one of the arms of your chair. Similar to everyone else's backdrop, yours was pitch gray, covering all but your silhouette and chair.

"Hey Stephen," Oscar greets at ease, as you proceed to wave to each of the people seen onscreen.

It cuts immediately to the host gesturing in continuation for a question. "Tell me and the audience about Duke Leto Atreides. What do we need to know?"

"He's the father and human. I think that's the biggest thing and uh under incredible pressure to save his family. Save his house but to adapt to this new existential threat situation which is moving to this strange planet," Your fellow costar puts into short. Short and concise was what was expected.

Content with his answer, Stephen moves the attention to you. He calls out your name, eagerly. "Rereading the books uh- right now, I am struck by how much of the story- uh the backstory and the action story is driven by the decisions Lady Jessica makes." A smile grows on your face, knowing how much fun was a character to play for you.

Along his last few words, you find yourself nodding in agreement. "I'm impressed with that you, Stephen actually read the books again!" An instant grin comes from the said man. "But it's all applause to Denny- he highlighted this from the book. In the film, her decisions basically create, fractures and disrupts everything."

"Best parents ever," In a low whisper, Timothee murmurs and the five of you burst into short chuckles and snickers.

"The best you could ever have!" You clapped your hands together, shaking them above your head in victory. And when the screen expands to show everyone's reactions, the audience can noticeably pinpoint Oscar's playful eye-rolling.

Another fun interview you had the pleasure of sharing was with Grazia UK. It was in a more comfortable setting. With you and Oscar in a lounge room, with the Zoom camera on. While the female interviewer complimenting a kind smile.

"Can I ask you something," Not within a second of the conversation, you rose up with a peculiar question. "Do you remember his beard?" Your costar beside you, looks away in disappointment. Even raising his hand to emphasize his discouraged state.

"A bit yes..."

"Yeah,"

"Yes!"

"Why? It was an impressive beard," Sort of clueless really, the interviewer says, of why you wanted to the topic up.

"Yeah, it was impressive!" Oscar looks back and forth between you and the camera, directing towards the woman on the other side. While you shriveled in embarrassment, leaning your head behind his shoulder, with a few snorts of laughter. "She doesn't even remember if I had a beard or not in the movie! She just saw it."

"Quite a prominent beard!"

"Yes yes, well I can remember so much," You chaste, leaning closer, locking eyes with your costar. Threatening really in a playful way.

"We shot together for a few months! How could you not remember?!" He exclaims, raising both his hands in the air in exasperation. You puff, adorning a pouty-like look.

"I work with what's in front of me," you turn to address the interviewer, pointing at Oscar accusingly. Because much contrast to what he looked months ago, he no longer had that impressive beard. He was clean-shaven, much to your display.

Next to you, Oscar scoffs. "Apparently not!" Bumping shoulders with you as you fought back, poking him many times obnoxiously.

You both later discussed a provoking quote referenced multiple times from Dune posters. Fear is the mind killer. Truly a simple yet intriguing phrase that fitted well with the film. And in generally, you and Oscar compared each others quotes from personal experience.

"I guess you could combine them together," Taking a sip out of your glass, you eyed at Oscar. He hums back and smooths his hands comfortably down his hips.

"It will pass and love prevails!" He cheerfully expresses. Even from afar, the interviewer can notice how much fun you two were having with the question.

"Right and, it plays perfectly with the film," You add onto your little spiel, nodding as you go, "Besides the fact that- you know, fear is the mind killer."

The male actor lets out a long sigh. "Makes you forget how violent the movie is."

On the other side of the screen, the blonde interviewer shrugs her shoulders. "Well- it's only included in small parts in the movie."

It was your turn to hum, dragging out the M sound. "I think maybe the film focusses too much on romance."

A caught off cough comes from Oscar as he tries to his best to dismiss his your sarcastic comment. "I feel like there should've been more of it."

"Really?!" The shot pans to your exaggerated shocked gaze. You then turn to look at the interviewer. "He has no idea how to write a movie." Instantaneously the male actor bursts out laughing, shaking his head back and forth in little denial. Even you couldn't hold it together and giggled a little.

"You play Timothee's parents so spent a lot of time with him. What is the most interesting thing we do not about Timothee Chalamet?" The interviewer prompts, having their arms supported on top the their desk with pure keenness.

Pursing your lips together in concentration, your attention turns towards your partner. "Well coming from me- I mean I don't know if people know this about him or not- but he's very open hearted." Oscar continues, "And me, having to play his father- hence the beard!"

"Ah!" Giving more emphasis, you raised your brow in recollection.

He goes on comparing the analogy of having to play Duke Leto as a powerful leader of a House. Without his people and court, he wouldn't resemble much of an prestige leader. However Oscar later mentions that Timothee's performance was the catalyst to their relationship look authentic. He is young yet incredibly sympathetic towards what's to be done for the film. His time with both of you really sold your relationship as a family, you'd think.

"So that's a very generous thing to do for a young actor. And I was impressed and admired that," In the background, you can be heard mumbling in agreement. Your partner shifts his posture, facing and expecting you to go next.

Licking your lips, you took one last glance at him before focusing strictly at the Zoom camera. "I think for me, to have a young actor like him- he's very driven about it all. When he's on and off screen, Timothee's just focused- he's very serious and concentrates heavily on what Denny says- and I can say I respect that." You punctuate your point, tapping lightly on your knee. "And I play his mother you know, and I try to accommodate with that. I play along and we work until we find a good rhythm with each other." The older woman on the screen seemed enamored by your compliments regarding your costar. Yet her eyes quickly makes it's way to Oscar, sitting quietly and listening to you ramble.

His laidback posture showed how greatly he took your words in. You grab your glass and take a quick sip before hearing him say, "We raised him well." Taking your hand in both of his as a sign of pride.

A delightful chuckle comes from both you and the interviewer while your partner gives a satisfied grin. "We really did!"

The media did not need proof to know of your enjoyed time during the production of Dune. In fact, multiple vlogs and documentaries about the film had fans and viewers alike become fond of your positive and laid back attitude about it all. Despite playing a calculating character such as Lady Jessica, you were nothing of serious when on screen with your costars.

"Welcome to Arrakis!" You popped into frame, wearing an exquisite dress, costumed by one of the designers. It was golden yellow with chains running down from the bottom half of your face to your chest. A faint veil covered your head but for right now, you had it placed on your hair. You spread your arms with anticipation for the cameraman to pan around your surroundings. "It's sunny today so I think we'd be out here for some time." You moved extremely close to the camera, before moving out of the frame to the side.

Abu Dhabi was bliss. The production and crew worked diligently day and night working in the deserts. And on this particular day, most of the cast had been present as well for the introduction of House Atriedes on Arrakis.

A few shots slowly pans from the crew's tents and Denny far into the sandy mountains as he speaks with Timothee. Another shot slyly captures you showing Josh Brolin an unknown video, sideways. Which somehow made him cackle very enthusiastically, holding his stomach to air as you quickly pat his back multiple of times. In all, everyone of the cast members were having a blast in the dry outskirts of the unknown.

"Hello," Brolin pops in another clip where he stands, wearing the Atreides armor. Under a massive shade area, a few people can be spotted in the background, moving equipment and conversing with others. From afar, the people filming the documentary can be heard presenting a few questions for him to touch upon. "Ah what do I think about Lady Jessica being played by," He says your name sincerely.

The video cuts to you having a conversation with your on and screen husband. A hand covering above your face to shield yourself from the sun, while Oscar tries to move where the light is hitting you as the best he could.

"I mean a phenomenal actor like her playing in that kind of role is guaranteed to have an amazing performance. She's- We've known each for a long time since Sicario and with Denny," The male actor softly grins, staring at where you were. "But Oscar on the other hand, eh- not so much." His tone becoming monotonous, as if the shift in topic was distasteful to the touch.

"Whatcha say, Gurney?!" A scream echoes and it's Oscar, cupping both his hands into an O.

The older actor couldn't keep it together before breaking into frivolous giggles. "Nothing, my lord!" He takes one last glance back before seeing you give him two big thumbs up with a silly smirk. "No in all seriousness, those two are just the best! You can never have a bad day with them."

Another prominent section in the video fans adored was with the actors that played Duncan Idaho and Dr. Liet Kynes. This time they are situated in what looked like the structure of Arrakeen. Where all ornithopters were supposedly stationed and the introduction of Dr. Kynes.

"They're so mom and dad," Jason Momoa shaking his head playfully with his hands clamped together. Both him and Sharon Duncan-Brewster wore still suits unlike many other extras who wore Atreides armor. "I mean- they're playing Paul's parents- but in real life it's just so different."

"Definitely more chaotic," Brewster jumps in, earning a hum from her costar. "They act nothing like them."

A cool shot from different location displays you in a dark with Timothee. It was the scene after Paul is put to test to by the Reverent Mother. It was a chilling scene yes, but in post production, many realize how unprofessional you sometimes were even in the most serious times.

The cameras were not live however the film crew were about to pan to you gesturing back and forth with your on-screen son. It was a interactive and intriguing conversation you both were having. You looking in purely engaged with what the French actor was saying. After a few sentences being spoken, it looked as though you chided a teasing joke which gave the reaction of Timothee slightly snickering, backing away slowly.

"I mean do they look like my parents? No," The young actor states shortly. It looked as though the clip was shot right after capturing your cute moment togehter. "But I'd say- yeah Oscar Isaac's a great actor and- to be able to play my dad is pretty cool. Even though we look nothing alike." Nervous laughter spouts as he clears his throat.

"I feel like I get the resemblances from my mom though," Affectionately stating your name, "You can tell where I got my powers, good looks from." Momentarily readjusting his collar as he takes a quick look from behind, knowing your footsteps.

"See? I'm the favorite parent!" In hushed squeal, you wrapped your hands around Timothee's shoulders, earning a lovable grin back.

[valsnotgothstuff]

duke leto, stilgar, gurney halleck and more lady jessica fics??

and for reader not be related to irulan and or an atreides lol

[moonyflesh]

[⏳]

Oscar Isaac behind the scenes of “Dune: Part One (2021)” as Duke Leto Atreides l.

[casinocarpediem]

I just want him to sit on my face is that so much to ask😭😭😭😞😞 #oscarisaacmalnourishment

[gladiatorcunt]

watching dune and i know i said i didn’t find timothée chalamet attractive AT ALL but……….

[fablelady]

dune imagine challenge... kinda?

alright so this is just a fun-if-ya-wanna-try kinda imagine thingy?

basically it's this: Imagine Reader is an eldritch/Goddess who went to a dormant like sleep before mankind travelled across the stars. when they wake up they see how utterly chaotic and gone to shit everything is and is like "the fuck? i leave you lot along for at least 5 mins?!". So Reader goes about fixing things in the dune universe, but then Reader comes across arakis and is curious. they watch as life goes about down there and they see Stilgar and is basically like "oh shit, he's hot... do i really like a mortal sand man?... yes, yes i do" and the rest i leave up to any dune fic writer!!

really i just wanna see yall try your hand at writing an eldritch/ god reader in the dune universe!! hell it dosen't even have to be with stilgar it can be with other characters too!! just thought it would be fun for yall to try and see how a universe with no actual gods or immortale acendended Eldritch like beings will react to having one around!!!

rule 1: just have fun with it!!

[campingwiththecharmings]

tagged by @soft-girl-musings ❤️ ty, this was super fun! tagging whoever wants to do this (please tag me in your posts!!!!)

1. Type your name followed by core into pinterest and paste the first pic. 2. Refresh your pinterest homepage and paste the first person. 3. Refresh your pinterest homepage and paste a random aesthetic picture. 4. Write a little story :)

(Please be gentle, I have not actually seen Dune, tho I did read a little of the novel, and am basing this characterization on my very limited exposure to Leto lol)

Dune Modern AU (I guess??) - Leto Atreides x F!Reader | (1,840 words) | Not proofread

AN: i...might've gone a bit overboard with this lmaooo. i blame oscar. 🫣

Warnings: murder, allusions to SA, probably a tad stockholm syndrome-y (lol), vague smut, some angst.

---

You struggle against the crewman's tight hold on your wrists, knowing that even if you were to break free, you'd have no where to escape to. Your ship had been attacked and boarded that morning by pirates, after which you, along with a handful of others, had been left to die on your pillaged ship.

When a ship flying the flag of Caladan had happened upon you, you'd been relieved, over the moon, even. That is, until they'd boarded and killed everyone left alive save for you. You should've known something was off as soon as they stepped onto the deck, their uniforms filthy and unkempt. But you'd been so desperate, had wanted to believe so badly that you were being rescued.

You don't know where he's taking you now, but given the lecherous look he'd given you just before grabbing you, you can take a guess.

Hopefully he'll at least have the decency to kill you once he's finished.

You growl as the man pushes open the door at the end of the hall, dragging you swiftly behind him. He throws you into a chair and looms over you, caging you in with a hand on either armrest.

"Feisty, aren't we?" he says, his dark eyes cold and cruel. "I like the feisty ones."

You stare him down with a glare, determined to not let this man take the only thing you have left: your dignity. He smirks at you and leans in, but it halted by the sound of the door opening.

"I'll take it from here, Yueh."

You watch as the man's lip curls slightly, annoyed at being interrupted. Nevertheless, he stands, schooling his face into an indifferent mask and turning toward the newcomer.

"Of course, Captain."

The crewman leaves, closing the door behind him with a loud "thwack," leaving you alone with this new man, apparently the captain.

You study him, noting that his uniform is in far better condition than that of his subordinates. Even his knee-high boots have been polished to a shine. You drag your eyes up his torso, then his chest, your eyes snagging on the insignia pinned over his left breast pocket. It looks familiar, but you can't seem to immediately place it. You allow your eyes to continue their journey, sliding up his neck, over his graying beard and stately nose, until you meet his eyes.

They're a warm, deep brown with a gentleness in them you are not accustomed to seeing in men (especially those in authority). He smiles at you apologetically, knowing he is at least partially responsible for the terror you've endured.

"Are you alright?" he asks, his voice soft and gentle, just like his eyes.

Inexplicably, the facade you've erected to make yourself seem unaffected by all of this crumbles at his question. No, you are absolutely not alright. In less than a week you've been attacked by pirates, had all of your possessions either taken or destroyed, and have watched almost every person you care for die. Tears well in your eyes and you're helpless to stop them from falling.

Embarrassed, you hide your face in your hands, silently sobbing into your palms. You flinch when you feel a hand on your shoulder. Was he...comforting you? You look up, his eyes radiating sadness and, dare you say, compassion?

He hugs you then, gently pulling you against his chest and wrapping an arm around your shoulders. He murmurs soothing words, promises to keep you safe, tells you you'll never have to live in fear again so long as he is with you. .

And you believe him, God help you.

He asks you to call him Leto despite clearly holding some kind of title. It feels odd to be so informal, but you do as he asks. He does not appear to have much trust in his crewmen, namely the group who'd boarded your ship. As a result of this, he is reluctant to let you out of his sight, so you spend most of your time with him. He does most of the talking, telling you of his beloved homeland Caladan, of his son Paul...of his late wife, Jessica. When you are ready, you do the same, telling him about where you grew up, of your parents, of your desire to see the world.

It's not until a few weeks later that you realize you're falling in love with him.

You do your best to hide it but he seems to sense the shift in you. The night before you are expected to return to Caladan, he finally asks what's troubling you. As when you'd met him that first day, his eyes are what get to you, the gentle kindness and patience in them like a balm to your soul.

"I...I think I'm in love with you," you admit, sure he doesn't feel the same.

But he surprises you yet again.

"I love you too, my darling," he rasps, leaning in to press his lips against yours.

He makes love to you until the sun rises, his movements gentle yet still passionate. His fingers tangle with yours when he pins you to the bed, making you come over and over, you body shaking with pleasure as he smothers your moans with his kiss.

He asks you to marry him in the afterglow, his head nestled between your breasts as you comb your fingers through his soft hair. You tell him you will and he looks up at you with a smile, sitting up so he can steal another kiss from your lips.

There is a commotion on deck as soon as the ship docks and it takes Leto a moment to realize it's not the usual flurry of activity that usually comes with a return to land. Sensing something nefarious, he tells you to escape through the window in his quarters. You don't want to leave him, flat out refuse to, in fact, but he convinces you yet again with his gentle, earnest eyes.

"I need to know you're safe," he says, taking your hands in his. "I'll find you, I promise."

You wait for him at an inn a few blocks from the docks but he never shows. You don't sleep, you can't, too worried about Leto and what might've happened to him. At the first sign of dawn, you leave the inn, returning to the docks in search of your Leto.

His ship is gone, the slip where it had been empty, and your heart sinks. Had it all been a trick? A game? A way to pass the time while at sea? Had he even really loved you or had he just told you that so you'd warm his bed?

You consider asking the harbormaster if they know what happened but...what would be the point? You know all you need to know: Leto is gone, has left you here alone, despite his promises to protect you, to love you, to marry you.

You do your best not to break down, to not give in to the crushing weight of your broken heart. Using the last of your coin, you decide to stay another night at the inn Leto had told you about, and in the morning, you convince them to hire you as a housekeeper in exchange for a bed and a meager salary. You work there for months, saving every penny you can for passage back to your homeland.

The night before you're set to leave, he finds you.

Leto.

"What are you doing here?" you ask, crossing your arms defensively over your chest.

He's disheveled, almost haggard, and much skinnier than you recall. You wonder briefly if he's been ill but quickly decide it doesn't matter--he left you, fooled you into thinking he loved you.

"I'm so sorry it took me so long," he rasps, his voice strained, as if he'd been screaming for hours.

You scoff, doing your best to avoid looking him directly in the eyes. That's how he always got you, manipulated you.

"It's too late, Leto. I'm leaving in the morning," you tell him, turning away to fiddle with your already-packed bag.

"Will you at least let me explain?" he pleads, shuffling closer.

You sigh, shaking your head. You tell yourself no, that you don't owe him anything, that he doesn't deserve a chance to explain himself...but you can't help but be curious.

Without looking at him, you nod, bracing your palms on the dresser before you.

He thanks you, taking a moment to collect his thoughts before he dives right in. He's been in jail, he claims, was locked up as soon as he stepped foot on land. Evidently, there was a mutiny and some of his crewmen, led by Yueh, had framed him by planting an illegal drug called Spice on board the ship. As soon as it had docked, the mutineers had sent an anonymous tip to the authorities and, as the Captain, Leto was arrested and thrown in jail. Unable to prove his innocence, he'd had no choice but to serve his time.

The story sounds plausible, and you're almost inclined to believe him but....you just can't. Your heart wasn't just broken by him, it was shattered. Irreparably, you think. Even if what he claims happened is true, you can't see how you could ever trust him again. Not after everything you've been through. You tell him as much, back still turned to him. After a beat of silence, you hear him shift closer, feel his warmth against your back, your eyes falling shut as he presses a gentle kiss against the base of your neck. You swallow a whimper, inhaling shakily when he runs his knuckle down the back of your arm.

"Please look at me, my darling," he pleads, voice thick with emotion. "Just one more time."

Hesitantly, you turn and your heart breaks a little more at the pain and desperation in his eyes. He smiles, taking your hand in his and gently squeezing it. Your eyes well with tears, one escaping and sliding down your cheek, and your curse yourself for your weakness. Using his free hand, he swipes the tear away, his touch lingering on your face.

You're not sure who moves first, but suddenly his lips are on yours, and a fire ignites in your chest. More tears slide down your face as you kiss him back, your arms winding around his neck as he hoists you up to sit on the dresser. The action knocks your bag to the floor with a dull thud, but you can't bring yourself to care as Leto licks into your mouth, his tongue hot as it slides against yours.

When he finally thrusts inside you, it feels like coming home. Suddenly you feel safe again, you feel at peace.

In the end, he travels with you back to your homeland. Slowly, the trust that was broken is rebuilt and before you realize what's happening, you allow the love you have for one another to heal your shattered hearts.

[archieimagines]

anyone for a dune imagine?

long time no see! hopefully this isn't just going out into the invisible void. i've been absent for a while because life goes on, but i once again crave to exercise my writing muscles. only, my creative juices aren't creative-juicing.

i've been indulging in the universe of dune and would love to write for one or two characters from there - but at present, i'm not sure where to start!

this is a long-winded way of saying:

my inbox is open for paul, feyd-rautha and leto atreides ideas!

if you have any lingering plot bunnies that you'd like to see written, please send them in to me! i'd love to have a crack and get the juices flowing again. i've missed writing and interacting with you all like crazy, so hopefully this is the gateway!

archie <3

[clazaries]

I need your guys' opinion on something before I post another fic...

I used to write fics about another character in the MCU on another tumblr blog and some of them did get a lot of attention/notes but my obsession for them has kinda drifted and I don't feel motivated to write for them anymore. However, I really liked the fic ideas that I wrote for them and I think some of them would be great for Oscar Isaac characters. So my question is...

[minigirl87]

The Laird & The Lassie series Prt 1

An Au Duke Leto Atreides x F'Reader

Summary:-

This is an au that was inspired by Oscar Issac in his black kilt suit at the New York fashion week. Set in the Scottish Highlands in modern days. I've set Caladan in the North Scottish West Coast in the Lochaber area of Fort William, which is beautiful and surrounded by mountains and water. Some points of interest on Fort William, its the road to the Isles and West Highland way. It is the home to Ben Nevis and the mouth to the rivers Nevis and Lochy and is where you can get the Harry Potter train to cross the famous Glenfinnan viaduct. And History wise, it is where Glencoe is. I've set the Lairds castle as Inverlochy Castle, which is beautiful ruin which historic Scotland look after and it sits in front of river Lochy. This is my first Duke (Laird) Leto fic. Please be kind if it is not perfect. Please feel free to like, comment, share, and leave feedback. Please Enjoy

There are some Scottish words in the story that I was a fun idea.

Warnings:-

Angst, mentions of road traffic accident, reader ends up in hospital.

Word Count:- 5,997

The air smelled thickly of a mixture of heather and peat as the Laird walked his two Gordon setter dogs along the river Lochay. It was a driecht afternoon, the sky a dull mixture of grey that the autumn leaves broke up with splashes of reds and oranges dancing in the breeze and scrunched under his boots.

“Archie and Angus, come here now!” Leto shouted to the two barking dogs that had spied a pheasant. In the distance, castle Caladan sat against the backdrop of the Munro mountains. Caladan was a beautiful area of Scotland’s west coast surrounded by rugged coastline to the north sea and the Munro’s but the beauty also held the long ago history of bloodshed.

As a Laird of the land of Caladan, it was his duty to get married and have an heir. But he never found the right woman for him. They were always interested in what he was, not who he was. Leto was kind, caring, compassionate, man. Who worked hard and had respect from not only local people but also nationwide? He longed for a woman the same as him to give his love and life. To give her the gift of his children to be a dream family.

Caladan castle was mostly a hauntedly beautiful ruin of golden sandstone. Where Leto would often think of his families his of generations and to which he was the last Laird of it all. But despite this ruin that the public could see through a walled gate stood an 18th-century baronial style tower, and that was his home. His lonely cold home only made better by her, his little thistle.

Walking into the entrance hall, he was greeted by her, his housekeeper, his only member of staff. She walked towards him with a smile.

“Good afternoon, sir. Shall I assist with your coat?” she said the smile still formed on pretty face.

“Aye would be most helpful” Leto chucked as Y/N helped him with his coat. The two Gordon setters bound happily, wagging their tails into the kitchen.

Leto watches as Y/N hangs his coat up. He watches her hips as the black dress clings to them and then admires her legs in the black seemed tights. He knew it was wrong to think of her this way, but his desire burned for her burned inside him. He longed to touch her, hold her, and make her his.

Quickly adverting his gaze as Y/N turns to speak to him. “Would sir like tea in the drawing room?”

“Aye my Lassie, that would warm my cockles up” smiling as Y/N walked back to the kitchen, as he himself headed to the drawing room to await his little thistle. Y/N had worked for him for many years, fulling almost every whim without complaint. Cooking, cleaning, taking care of his home and dogs when he had to travel for his duties. She was almost like a wife to him. He longed to tell her his feelings, but he couldn’t bear losing her.

Y/N knocked on the drawing room door, awaiting permission to enter.

“away ye come lass” Leto’s voice lulled through the heavy oak door. As Y/N walks in with a tea tray, setting it down in front of him. And then pokes the fires glowing embers as the howling wind cast shadows in the back of the hearth’s the logs cackle and crackle like the witches in Macbeth.

“Sir. You’re remembering it's my evening off tonight? And I’m going into the town” Y/N says excitedly.

“Ye canny be going out it that, there’s a storm a coming tonight” worry laced in he voice as he tried to reason with her.

“och I’ll be fine sir, nae need tae worry about me” trying to reassure him. “I’ll be back by the morning”

As Y/N leaves the room, Leto stands and strides over to the window, the rain is lashing down, and the winds howling like a banshee. Whispering to himself “she can’t leave in this weather”.

An hour passes, and Leto goes looking for Y/N and finds a note on the kitchen work top next to the kettle. The only line he sees says I’ll be back before the morning, sir.

“I can’t lose her, if anything happens to her I’ll never forgive myself” as he stares into the darkness from the kitchen window.

As the storm raged quickly the time stood still for Leto as he heard every hour chime till in the wee hours there came a tremendous thudding at the front door causing Archie and Angus to start barking loudly awakening the Laird.

As Leto put his hand on the door handle and was about to playfully chastise Y/N for forgetting her key. He was quickly taken aback, and his face lost all colour as his view was filled with yellow, high visibility jackets from the Scottish police service. As they asked him his name and if his was the residence of miss Y/N L/N.

In shock, Leto responds that it is and that she’s his housekeeper of many years. The officers go on to in form him that Y/N has been involved in a traffic accident and is in hospital. That she is stable. At those words, his mind goes blank his little thistle is hurt. He needs to see her, and he needs to comfort her. He has to tell her she is loved and safe.

At the Hospital Leto walks silently through the quiet corridors the noise that he could hear was his heart drumming away loudly and the humming of machines which had him felling the blood rushing through his veins As the thought of his little thistle. The light was low as he approached the little room that Y/N lay in.

She looked so small and doll like, a vulnerability that she would never show normally. He had called her his little thistle as she was soft and sharp, she knew how to sting with her wit. But that wasn’t visible now. A salty tear rolled down his cheek into his beard. He failed his love. He’d never forgive himself.

He sat on the chair next to her and gently took her hand, caressing the back of it with the pad of his thumb. He could see the scratches on her hand and body. He sits and talks gently to her about how he will love her and protect them, but she has to stay with him.

He stands up, looking down at her softly smiling, as he moves some stray hair with his fingers. Leaning down to kiss her forehead as he straightens up he sees to his hearts delight Y/N slowly blinks awake looking at him with her beautiful Y/E/C and a gently smile on her lips.

Softly she speaks to him “Hello”

Too be continued............

Story photo made by me.

Borders by @cafekitsune

@melodygatesauthor @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @my-secret-shame @missscarlettangel @missdictatorme @jake-g-lockley @steven-grants-world @romanarose @campingwiththecharmings @writingforcurrentobsessions2 @welcometostayingawake @novanitee @micheleamidalajedi @annautumnsoul @guruan-is-not-here @ivystoryweaver @whirlybirbs @whatthefishh @lonely-dark-moon @missscarlettangel @missdictatorme @lonelyisamyw-0love @madlittlecriminal @midgardian-witch @saturn-rings-writes @silvernight-m @ominoose

[my-tin-can-mans]

Strange Hearts, Part 4 The Duke

Leto x Reader

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

Strange Hearts Spotify Playlist

Summary: When an arranged marriage brings you to Caladan, you find that another man piques your interest

Disclaimer: I thought of this while fic and started writing under the impression Paul was in his early to mid-‘20s like Timothy. So for the sake of this story he and the reader are both in their twenties. Sorry for any inaccuracies, I’ve only watched the movie and really only paid attention to Oscar lmao.

Warnings: A little bit of angst. Unwanted Marriage? technically love triangle/affair.

Leto had always been a composed Duke. It took a lot to break that from him, yet it seemed that the moment he walked into the library that trait had shifted. No that wasn't it, it wasn't in the library. It wasn't even when you kissed him later that night, although he did seem to like it. 

When he had come to apologize to you, he had kept his composure, when he turned and started to walk away, he had kept his composure, but when he held his hand to the knob on your door and heard a broken cry, it slipped through the cracks of it. Leto was the Duke, a ruler, and a pleaser, and to hear you sound so hurt, and knowing it directly related to him, he could not bear it. 

You were gorgeous, you always had been. When he had visited you in your homeworld he had always thought so. Thought that when you were to be married, it would cause wars as to who your father would marry you off to. How ironic that you were offered to the only person that made it difficult for him to now forget about you. 

Leto didn’t pity you for your situation, but he did empathize with you. Sacrificing yourself and your dreams for the hopes and aspirations of your fathers, seemed all too familiar. Maybe that's why he had been so drawn to you. Maybe that is why he kissed you back that first night you were here and why he turned to comfort you after hearing your cry. 

Something about you showing up in his house had switched his mind to a different setting. Maybe it was the fact that he couldn’t, no shouldn't have you. He definitely could, he's proven as much. But that wasn’t it, no, because he has you and he still felt the need to be close to you. You were like a virus that entered his life unexpectedly. Everything about you invaded his mind. The soft skin he had touched, your smell, your sweet voice. 

When he left your room that night, Leto went back to his. He opened the door to find Lady Jessica sitting on his bed waiting for him. Shit. 

Leto loved Lady Jessica with every part of himself. But when he had been with you, he hadn’t thought of her. And now the thought made his stomach sink. Jessica has always been there for him, always stayed by his side, and loved him no matter what. He had just thrown all that down the drain for some girl who was getting married. 

What an idiot. What did he think was gonna happen? He had Jessica and you had Paul, although you and Paul weren’t really together, not yet at least, he could tell Paul liked you and that made his stomach sink even lower. You had to share this castle with them now. He had put you in the worst predicament ever. Not only were you upset about the wedding and being forced into a new place, but now he had feelings for you while he was devoted to someone else and you were supposed to be to another. 

“Hey,” Jessica had whispered to him, “where were you, you're usually in bed by now I was just coming to look for you.” 

Shit. That could've gone badly. The idea popped into his mind. Jessica walking in on him with you. He doesn’t think Jessica would've taken it well. While she was only his concubine, they still held a deep and intimate connection. 

“Sorry,” he scrubbed his hand down his face, trying to rub his brain off the busy thoughts, “I was just working a little late, and lost track of time.” 

God, if that wasn't the most cliche line. She sweetly smiled at him, making the guilt in his stomach sink even lower, “you work too hard sometimes you know that?” she stated as she beckoned him over to the bed. 

If only that were the issue right now. 

Leto settled into bed that night with Jessica, but her presence, since the first time he met her, did not calm him like it usually did. And as he drifted off to sleep, he saw you in his mind. Your bare form beneath him, sprawled on the silk sheets, soft and wanting. 

_________

The day of the wedding had arrived and the duke was indifferent. His son had spent the morning with him and seemed excited about the wedding. It seemed that every time his feelings for you grew, so did the guilt as well. 

“I know that I was hesitant about this at first father but, I’m starting to see this is for the best, I know I hardly know her but I really do like her, and this way when i am to start ruling like you I’ll have someone else who prides themselves on doing what's best for their people, not someone who is after my power.” Paul had said to him. 

“I’m glad you see it that way, I was afraid that even though I let you choose, you might decide that I didn't really give you a choice and you might resent me for that.” 

Paul took a moment to think, they were sitting in his room Paul sitting on the end of his bed, Leto in a chair across from it, waiting for the tailor to arrive for Paul. It was the only moment that would probably get alone with each other for a while. 

“You know I talked to her, and I can’t help but feel bad. She didn’t have a choice in this as I did, and even though she’s willingly doing this now and doesn’t seem to have any ill-will intentions toward me, it makes me pity her for that.” 

That's where he and his son seemed to differ. He didn't pity you, he understood you, even though he and Jessica got along well, it wasn’t a choice for him, it was forced upon him by people in higher positions, and that had always irritated him, he never had a say in the matter. If it weren't due to the fact of his older age, he was sure it wouldn’t have been a choice but for you to marry him instead. But this way after his son took over, the alliance would last for a longer period of time. 

Just as Leto began to open his mouth and speak advice to his son on you, the door to his room opened and the tailor, along with a few others came flooding in. Paul, now having his attention diverted, and Leto not wanting to talk about private matters in front of people who could spread ill word about the three of you, slipped away to start getting read in his own room. 

Leto had been to many prestige events, he didn’t need a tailor and help to get ready, while he was way away, a servant had laid out his dress uniform on his bed for him and that was enough. He hated the attention anyways. Being alone while getting ready allowed him to decompress his thoughts and prepare for the upcoming blizzard of people. 

That was until the door had cracked open and you came rushing in. his heart had melted the moment he has seen you. That look in your eyes was all too familiar. It had been the same look in his own eyes when his father had given him the ultimatum of being the Duke. 

Yet somehow you still looked absolutely stunning in your gown, even with the forlorn look your face wore. Once again his affection for you grew as his heart sunk and sunk at the same time, and then. Then, Idaho walked in. 

While this didn't worry Leto as much as it should have, he knew Idaho would always be loyal to him over anything, he couldn’t help but come to a realization that this was now solidified as a scandal if it were to breach further into other people's knowledge. 

That fact hung over his head while he stood beside his son and watched him vow to be your loyal husband, and to stand by you. His face remained expressionless as you did the same, it stayed this way when the two of your placed rings onto each other's fingers, the same when your eyes swiftly shifted to him as the officiant stated for the two of you to kiss. It was so swift it went unnoticed by everyone but him. And then when you and Paul had finally softy met, through hesitance and tension the whole room could probably feel, his face still remained the same. 

It was something that he had been trained to do through his years serving as a Duke. Without this skill, he's sure his internal thoughts would provoke many wars. He's sure that if he wore his thoughts on his face during these moments, the same would happen. 

His composure stood strong for the majority of the night. Only slightly internally cracking when he spared a glance in your direction. You had looked just as much, if not more miserable than you had when you came to visit him earlier that day. The deed was done and over and maybe it was shock written on your face from the fact that this had still happened, maybe it was the fact that today was supposed to be about the marriage of you and Paul, and yet the room read as only a celebration of alliances, but you look genuinely distraught. 

The more he looked at you through the night, the more he thought about how truly unhappy you seemed. It wasn’t fair. This led him to the idea that probably wasn’t the best decision he has ever made. As he swept you across the floor as the two of you danced, he decided he would play it off as being a host if anyone were to draw suspicions of the two of you. 

That night everyone was busy. Guests were heading home, opting to travel than spend the night. Maids and servants were left to clean and Lady Jessica had gone off somewhere to converse with other members of the Bene Gesserit. This left Leto alone and to his own devices. 

While he undresses from his robes he considered going to your room to find you, he figured you would need some sort of comfort after the day and he was sure you wouldn’t be with Paul. though it was traditional to consummate the marriage on the first night, the both of you were very timid and he figured Paul would have offered you the chance to decline, especially given the conversation between the two earlier in which he recalls Paul pitying you. 

That's why for the first time this night, when he knocked on his son’s door, opting to stop by his room first and finish the conversation they had started earlier that day, his face finally gave way to his emotions when the person who opened the door was you.

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

A/N: Sorry this is long overdue and also a little shorter than the rest.

[cosmictheo]

𝐒𝐄𝐂𝐑𝐄𝐓𝐒 | feyd-rautha

( gif credits to @wondrousashes )

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Have you been with someone else like this?”

There was another one of your little questions again.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Have you been with other women?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“My lord—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I'm trying to be good...”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Were you seriously jealous of my darlings?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[rosesanddecay]

Oscar Isaac Characters Eating You Out

Minors DNI

Featured Characters: Miguel O’Hara, Moon Knight System, Basil Stitt, Anselm Vogelweide, Blue Jones, Poe Dameron, Nathan Bateman, Duke Leto Atreides, Prince John, Santiago “Pope” Garcia x afab!reader (Pronouns and descriptions aren’t used for the reader)

CW: SMUT (did you look at the title?), pet names, slight size difference, fingering, face riding, mention of periods, slapping, toys, anal, dub-con, sub and dom roles, squirting, overstim/crying, untranslated Spanish, and possibly some other things (All are just brief mentions)

These are just some short, dumb little rambles/headcannons of mine, so it’s not written the best. Not proofread or heavily edited.

(Lmk if you want more in the future)

Miguel O’Hara - Across the Spiderverse

Miguel is a tired man, always overworking himself with the Spider Society. All because he’s extremely thorough, never leaving something to be completed at a later date. Because of this, it’s not often he gets the chance to destress.

So, when it comes time to pleasure, he’s just as thorough. Miguel makes sure you feel just as much pleasure as he does.

Of course, because of his lack of free time, Miguel doesn’t care where or when it happens, he’s eating you out.

You’re in his office? Bend over.

You’re on your period? I guess he’s not beating the vampire allegations.

Pick a time or a place, he’s there, willing to thoroughly please you in whatever way he can.

Miguel is on his knees with your legs over his shoulders. His claws gently pricking at the soft of your thighs as he holds you still.

If you squirm too much, he is glaring at you from overtop your heat, pinning you in place with one of his massive hands.

His tongue runs laps in your cunt, teasing your clit and slurping you up. He’s eating you like a starved man, letting out small growls every now and again.

Miguel will refuse to touch himself until you’ve climaxed multiple times. He has the stamina to keep going for hours, and this is just a warm up for him. Besides, he’d rather see either of your pretty lips wrapped around his length over his hand.

When you’re a trembling, sopping mess underneath him, he’ll finally stop. His lower face is shiny as he licks his lips and hungrily smirks at you.

“Don’t think this is over, mi amor. This is just the beginning…”

Marc Spector / Steven Grant / Jake Lockley - Moon Knight

Marc wants you to feel as much pleasure as possible, because while he denies it, a part of him is a people pleaser. He always puts his partners above himself, including during intimate moments.

Marc is experienced and he will take the time to know what you like. Marc practically memorizes your body and what gets you riled up. But if he has the choice, he has you on your knees as he eats you out from behind.

Marc has you bent over as his tongue hits that perfect spot, causing you to tremble and moan in pleasure.

He loves seeing you grasp the sheets as you bury your face in your pillow, to him it’s a sign of validation, evidence that he’s making you feel good.

His hands grab at your thighs and ass as he goes to town. If he feels you try to pull away, he’ll swat your rear until you stay still.

When his mouth starts to ache, Marc will pull up and insert his fingers instead. He’ll move them in the way that has your toes curling and has muffled screams coming from your pillow.

Of course though, he finishes the job with his mouth back on you, drinking up every ounce you give him. He’ll lick his lips clean and kiss your cunt in praise.

“You did so good for me, darling…”

Steven is the most insecure of the boys. He never had the chance to date before, so he’s always worried about making you feel good. He especially worries when he hears how Marc talks about your guys' time together. Steven wants to make you feel just as good.

But Steven isn’t as affirmative as Marc or Jake.

Steven will keep you on your back, his hands feeling his favorite parts of your body. He loves to caress you.

Steven likes to be thorough but also to go slow. He wants you to feel every little moment he makes.

His tongue hits the spots you love, but it’s methodical, careful.

Steven pleasures you as though you could fall apart if he were to be too rough. But if you grind your hips or grab his hair, he’ll go a bit faster.

He lets you have control, his goal is to make you feel good, so why wouldn’t he listen to you?

Despite being focused on you, Steven won’t hesitate to make himself feel good too. Whether it’s with his hand or just humping at the mattress in front of him.

He definitely gets pussy drunk, babbling as dines on you.

“So pretty… so pretty…”

Jake, on the other hand, prefers to be a bit risky.

As much as he loves private moments with you (like the other boys), the thrill of getting caught makes it more exciting for him.

He’ll absolutely eat you out in his car or in an empty alleyway. All because you dressed up pretty for him or gave him that perfect smile of yours.

Jake likes to be quick but efficient with you, at least in public.

Jake sinks to his knees and pushes you against the brick wall. His hand stays on your stomach, making sure you don’t scramble from his grasp.

He’d start slow, intentionally making you panic about getting caught, but as he gets quicker, you become a moaning mess above him.

Jake will smirk as he makes quick work of you, making you finish quicker than you thought possible.

“Tan perfecta/o, mi vida… tan perfecta/o para mí…”

All of them love you so much, so sometimes after a hard day, they’ll each take turns making you feel good.

Steven most likely starts, being that he’s the most gentle. He’s a good warm up and he’s good for calming down without actually stopping. But with the other guys there too, he definitely is being a bit more aggressive to keep up.

Marc and Jake will take their turns, teasing and riling you up. Just between those two alone, your position is constantly changing, there’s no chance you’re getting sore from being stuck in one place.

Each of the boys will make sure you feel good, prioritizing you above all else. They even monitor each other through the many mirrors littered throughout the apartment. They just want their darling to feel good <3

Each will take their time, only stopping when you’re an overstimulated, crying mess.

Soft kisses and cuddling definitely ensue afterwards.

“Our beautiful darling…”

Basil Stitt - Lightningface

Basil, the pathetic, desperate, possessive loner. He will do anything for your attention. He will follow your every order. You don’t even have to touch him, he’ll cum just from eating you out. He loves you that much.

Basil is aggressive as he eats you out, desperate to make you finish. Because if you finish, you’ll stay, despite his scars.

He moans and whimpers more than you do as you pull him deeper into your cunt. His hands grapple at every curve of your body, desperate to make sure you’re real, that you want him.

Why would anyone want a monster like him? Even his own girlfriend cheated on him before his accident happened.

As he tastes you, he desperately chases your climax.

He needs you to feel good. He needs you.

When your legs tense around his head and you start praising him, he starts crying and finishes as well, his seed staining the floor below him.

His head falls against your inner thigh as his tears fall fast. He grabs at you harshly, his fear causing his chest to ache.

“Imsosorry… staywithmeplease…”

Anselm Vogelweide - Big Gold Brick

Anselm is a weirdo, a big horny weirdo, let’s get that out of the way.

Anselm will touch you and do whatever he wants whenever he wants. This kinky switch of a man will eat you out in any way possible, and it’s never simple.

Per his request, he lies tied up with you over him. His arms are completely restrained as he lets you control the situation.

Your glittering heat flutters as he blows on you, smirking at every little reaction you have. He loves your noises, especially when you’re loud.

Eventually you sit on his face, and groaning happily, he licks up into you.

Your hips rock back and forth on his face, his nose hitting your throbbing clit harshly. You’re breathing heavily as Anselm eats you up, his beard scratching the back of your legs as your hips move.

Despite being such an odd man, he absolutely knows what he’s doing, like— he’s extremely talented with his tongue alone. With every squirm and noise you make, he’s watching you like a hawk.

Your high builds and comes crashing down quickly. But when you start to move off, he harshly demands you get back.

“We aren’t done yet, doll. If you don’t get back on, I’ll kill myself.”

Blue Jones - Sucker Punch

Blue doesn’t eat you out for your pleasure, no- it’s to prove a point.

He owns you, just like he owns all the people working for his club. And because he owns you, he has to make sure you know how good only he can make you.

You were in the dressing room when he approached you, his eyes hungrily scanning your body.

Whether out of fear or attraction, you do everything he asks. So when he asks you to strip bare, you do exactly that.

With his head between your thighs, it’s hard to remember that this man could kill you without a second thought. He’s just too talented with his tongue.

Running a club has its perks, including having lots of practice in making others feel good. With all this practice, this man will do anything to make you squirt. He sees it as a sign of victory, that his toy likes him the best.

Your back is arching as Blue hits your sweet spot. Your hips lightly hump his face and nose, chasing your high. His hands grip your legs, letting you ride his face more and more.

You squirt all over his face, causing him to hum in approval.

When you finish, he licks a stripe through your arousal. Blue’s eyes meet yours.

“Bunny, do you act like such a desperate whore with all the clients?”

Poe Dameron - Star Wars

Lover of the sky, Poe is known for being quite flirty. With the constant travel, Poe has had his share of hookups and romantic partners.

Which is why, of course, Poe would do anything to make you feel as much pleasure as possible.

He’s cocky, sure, but when he brags about how loud he makes you scream, you know it’s the truth.

After a long day of travel, Poe is clinging to your cunt.

As his tongue runs laps through your folds, you tightly grip at his curls.

He’s already made you finish at least twice, and he’s desperate for another.

Your cunt is trembling from overstimulation, broken moans escaping your lips as you lazily try to pull him away.

With every faint tug of his hair, he pulls your body closer towards his mouth, not letting you escape.

His tongue circles your clit like a dehydrated man, wanting you to release and give every drop of yourself to him again and again.

When Poe gets you to release over his tongue once more, he doesn’t back off, speaking as he licks every drop.

“Just one more… Can you handle one more for me, baby?”

Nathan Bateman - Ex Machina

Nathan doesn’t eat you out normally, he much prefers using his fingers if he has to.

This man prefers making himself feel good above all else, he only tolerates making you feel good. Which is why he always makes you finish quickly or sometimes not at all, moving on to make sure he can get his pleasure from this exchange.

The only time he has eaten you out was when he walked in on you having a wet dream, mumbling his name as your legs spread under the blankets.

You wake up moaning loudly, Nathan tucked between your thighs, mouth to your aching core.

As he hits your sweet spot, you instinctively grab his head. His buzzed hair provides nothing to grip to as your hips sleepily grinds his face.

Everything feels extra sensitive and good, the lack of previous priority making you extra needy.

His beard provides a scratchy and satisfying feeling as his tongue laps up your soaked folds.

He doesn’t even acknowledge that you’ve awoken, now on a mission to make you finish on his mouth.

His hands grope at your waist and ass, gripping at all the soft flesh he can.

When you finish with trembling legs, he lifts his head, his beard glistening in your juices. His hand palms over his cock as he sits on his knees and stares down at you.

“Get up. It’s my turn.”

Duke Leto Atreides - Dune

Leto is a very busy man, but he does worship you when he gets the chance.

Constantly being needed by everyone, it feels nice to relax and give himself to the one person he wants to: you.

Sure, sometimes you’re under the table servicing him, but it’s not often he gets the chance to do the same for you.

He’s on his knees, worshiping your pussy like it is a divine god. Leto is praying to you with his tongue.

Leto is so focused on you, he can’t even acknowledge his own pleasure before he knows you’ve had some release.

He has to give his baby some extra care while he has the chance <3

His hands touch every inch that he can, worshiping all of you that he can.

Leto’s nose bumps your clit as he watches you like prey, he just loves your blissed out expression.

When you two make eye contact, he makes his assault that much more pleasurable. Whether that’s adding in his fingers or reaching deep into you with his tongue. Man loves his eye contact.

When you climax, he’s smiling and peppering kisses over your inner thighs.

“I still have time, shall we go for another?”

Prince John - Robin Hood (2010)

John is a man of pleasure, and he will devour you as long as he gets some in return. Just… never mention your ex or past relationships, he gets jealous.

He loves different positions and experimenting with you, as long as you’re both having fun or a good time, then he’s more than happy.

John, the whiny man, is begging into your cunt as you two eat each other up.

Your mouth is wrapped around his length as he laps up your warmth.

With each stroke of your tongue, he moves his in tandem. Every moan you gain from him, wonderfully rumbles your pussy.

His hands grasp and pull your ass cheeks, kneading the soft flesh.

John eats you like a starved man, because despite his regal status, you are by far the best meal he’s eaten.

At least that’s what he’d be saying if it weren’t the end to your guys night of pleasure, and John didn’t need an heir.

He probably isn’t the most thrilled to be eating his and your cum out of your pussy, but it's you, so he can’t complain.

Together, you finish and clean each other of every last drop, leaving both of you exhausted.

John pats his shoulder.

“Come, rest your head.”

Santiago “Pope” Garcia - Triple Frontier

Santiago loves to tease you. No matter the situation or place, he will edge you until you’re crying.

He likes seeing you as a whimpering mess, begging for some relief.

You were just on the cusp of finishing when Santiago pulled away, watching as you begged him to let you cum.

He’d chuckle and hold your hands hostage, not letting you get the chance to finish what he started.

As you start to come down from your high, he’d go back in, licking and eating your cunt out.

As you squirm, chasing your release, he’d cage your legs in place with his arms and hands. You’re not allowed to escape him or his constant teasing.

When he finally lets you finish, you’re a trembling mess, your hole clutching at his tongue as he eats every last drop.

“You’re so cute like this… maybe I should go again?”

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Thanks for reading!

Lmk if you want me to add more of his characters or do a different set of characters (like Genshin men for ex.)

[lex-the-flex]

Drinking the Water of Life

Paul Atreides x reader

He didn't want this. He never wanted this to happen. So why now? And why did it have to you?

From the moment Paul Atreides claimed his Fremen name, he prayed this wouldn't have to happen. But it did. While his mind was clear and open, yours remained foggy and closed off. If it was up to him, he would've kept you there, with your limited visions of the future.

But he loved you with all his heart.

And he couldn't see you suffer any longer without him. Paul chose you to rule at his side, after all.

Returning to your place in the shared communal room, Paul offers you a small smile before returning to his meal.

"How are you? I haven't seen you all day." He whispered so only you could hear.

"I'm alright. The water extractors are holding up. You should've seen all the packs I had to carry. Stilgar was impressed that I could carry thirty pounds for three straight miles." You explain.

Finally being able to relax at Paul's side, you notice how his blue within blue eyes look at you. While he's proud of you, something else lingers behind his orbs.

"Paul, what is it?" You ask.

Setting down his bowl, he takes your hands in his with a gentle grasp. Calmly stroking his fingers over your knuckles, he leans closer, his lips inches from your ear.

"I need you to travel South with me. Just the two of us, on a private mission before the others make the journey. I need you by my side, Y/N." He explains.

Calmly nodding your head, you instantly knew what he meant: you had to drink the Water of Life. The others knew it too, spreading rumors that stung like needles into your back. How you weren't worthy of loving Paul, the Muad'dib. Even the other Fremen began to question your loyalty.

As you were an outsider like Paul and his mother, Jessica, you remained faithful to House Atreides as it was one of the final commands given to you by Duke Leto himself. But now you had to truly prove yourself, you had to show everyone why Paul chose you above any other Fremen girl in your sietch.

"Okay, Paul. I will follow your hand until the very end. I will follow Muad'dib, my Usul, with an open heart." You declare as he pulls you in for a loving embrace.

*****

Guiding you further into the Southern temple, Paul never lets go of your hand. The beautiful sanctuary pulls you in with its calming circular architecture and stillness. Leading you to the main chamber, Paul is welcomed by another Fremen fundamentalist showing him the utmost respect.

Discovering a pool of water, you wander over to it before noticing the presence of a small sandworm swimming in the cloudy liquid. Scrunching your brows at the rapidly moving creature, Paul places his hand on your shoulder.

"It's time, Y/N."

Joining Paul and the Fremen member, she holds a jar containing a bright blue liquid that appears even sharper than the blue within blue eyes themselves. Feeling your breath catch in the back of your throat, you begin to panic, even taking a step away from Paul.

Placing a hand over your chest, your bare fingertips try to find solace in the sand covered stillsuit, and your own heartbeat echoes against your eardrums.

"It's alright. It's alright, Y/N. I'm here." Paul advises, leaning his forehead against yours.

Holding the nape of your neck in his hands, his dark curls tickle the edge of your face.

"I... I don't know if I can do this, Paul. I can't fail you." You say as your lip begins to quiver.

"You can. I believe in you. House Atreides believes you. You can do this, Y/N, just as your Usul before you." Paul replies, stroking your cheek.

Calming your breathing, you quietly nod before Paul, coming to your decision.

Laying down in between the stone pools, the Fremen offers you the glass bottle, lowering the top of the spout into your open mouth. Drinking the cold liquid, you swallow the water, and it enters your system. Taking your hand in his, Paul rubs your knuckles whilst your body goes numb.

Convulsing on the stone, every inch of your body writhes in pain, from the temples on your head, to your very reproductive system. A terrifying scream releases from your damp lips as the visions of the future, past, and present dance along the thin skin of your eyelids. Then, as soon as they appear, the prophecies of the future disappear within seconds.

You were cold, numb, in between the land of the living and the dead.

Offering the bottle to Paul, tears begin to fall on his face, and he mixes the salty drops with the freshwater.

Pressing the water to your lips, Paul bends down and kisses you lips, allowing you to return to him once more.

Feeling his lips leave your own, your eyes open, and you are awake. Your mind was open and Paul took you into his lap, studying your new set of eyes with all the love he could give you.

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[vivalarevolution]

𝓖𝓸𝓭𝓭𝓮𝓼𝓼 𝓸𝓯 𝓒𝓪𝓵𝓪𝓭𝓪𝓷

Paul Atreides x Reader

Request: „Paul Atreides falling in love with his father's younger wife, whom he recently married for political reasons, yet he remains loyal and in love with Jessica.‟

A/N: Request from anon. A very interesting concept that I thoroughly enjoyed writing. As always, I hope you will like reading my work, especially since this is my first attempt at writing for Paul Atreides.

Please remember that english is not my native language and mistakes might happen.

She reminded him of a goddess , a being from ancient books that survived the destruction of Old Terra. She was beautiful like Aphordite , full of warmth as Hestia and innocent and sensitive as Persephone. Yet her eyes were full of sadness , like those belonging to Oizys.

And the young duke hated it.

He hated her sadness. The sadness which was caused by his own father. Leto Atreides married her , but there was no love between them , there was only darkness and misery that was draining the young woman from the inside. In Paul's eyes, his father's actions were cruel. He did not deserve such a delicate soul , and much less he deserve it to destroy it.

He tried , almost desperately , to understand the man when his eyes followed him with his own mother , but in vain. Because he loved the woman he could not have too much to forgive him for what he did to her.

So he stopped. He stopped looking for forgiveness , which never existed.

Instead, he surrendered to the arms of forbidden desire , surrendered to the feelings he had been hiding so deeply inside himself, surrendered to her will without her even knowing.

His shadow began to follow hers, her steps became his steps , her breath became his breath.

And suddenly Paul Atreides became everything to her that his father never was. He became her protector , her rock , her guardian , her savior.

But that wasn't enough for him. He wanted more. He had to have more.

He found her in her chambers , she was sitting on one of the many cushions, reading. But when she felt a presence behind her she stopped , turning her head to the side , looking out of the corner of her eye at the young duke.

-Paul - she said softly , turning fully in his direction - What brings you to me? - she asked him , closing the book , which suddenly no longer seemed interesting to her.

He didn't answer , not immediately.

But as the silence lengthened between them , the tension begin to grow as well.

-I want you - he replied suddenly , and despite the seriousness of the sentence his voice was composed , remarkably calm.

-What? - the woman whispered, shocked.

His words seemed to cut through the air like the sharpest knife, leaving behind a mark that was impossible to erase.

-I want you - he repeated , slowly approaching her figure.

She watched his movements , stopping only when the brunet kneeled before her.

-But you already have me - she said , placing her hand on his pale cheek.

Paul grabbed her wrist and closed his eyes allowing her addictive scent to dull his senses.

-Not in the way I would have wanted - he confessed , tasting her soft skin with his lips.

At his words, the woman pulled her hand from his hold , moving away from her husband's son.

-We can't. You know it's forbidden - she announced, furrowing her eyebrows.

-I know - he responded , getting up from his knees to approach her yet again - But no matter how cruel the truth is , my father does not love you , he never will. And I hate him for it, I hate him for marrying a woman he is not able to love.

-The world has always been cruel Paul. You cannot change it , you are in no position to. You are not a god - she said with a shadow of sorrow in her voice , feeling tears involuntarily flow into her eyes.

-But I can change the part of the world you belong to.There will be no more misery , no more pain - he declared, approaching her , trapping her between the wall and himself.

-Don't say that. I am begging you , don't say that - she whispered , closing her eyes, trying to push the brunet away from her, but to no avail.

The man kissed her cheekbones , nuzzling his face into her thick locks.

-Tell me the truth - he asked , but was met with silence - Tell me the truth - he repeated , but his voice no longer sounded familiar.

-I love you more than life itself Paul. I'm willing to die if it means I can taste your lips, even for a slight moment - she admitted, but although her words were sincere, it seemed to her as if someone pulled them out of her, without her permission.

-And I love you - he said - And believe me when I say this. I will never stop loving you. My love for you will only cease to exist when the sun will rise in the west and set in the east , when the seas go dry and mountains will blow in the wind like leaves.

-One day , you will regret those words Paul Atreides - she professed , feeling her breathing become more shallow and her eyes more clouded.

-Never - he growled , before attacking her full, pink lips.

His kisses were the opposite of him. They were burning , chaotic , dangerous.

But despite this , she desperately grabbed his shoulders , trying to pull him closer and closer. Their hands traveled over each other's bodies , as their lips tasted one another, never having enough. They seemed to have forgotten about everything except themselves.

Suddenly the mortal world no longer existed. There was no fear , sadness , or despair. In their place came lust , desire and love. Feelings that were forbidden to them.

But they didn't stopped.

They didn't stop when their bodies merged into one. They didn't stop when the first rays of sun appeared on the walls of her chambers.

They didn't stop because there was nothing strong enough to separate Paul Atreides from his goddess.