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qvrcll · 1 month

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Warnings: (NSFW), Oral (F receiving), posessive themes, mentions leading towards overstimulation, filthy :P

Paul Atreides doesn’t know when exactly to stop.

Truthfully, he doesn’t like to. Even with your shaking legs hitched on either sides of his shoulders, and his nose bumping against the rigid swell of your clit, he feels like taking you again in his bed.

“Paul—” you barely manage to choke out. You’ve cried out for so long, you don’t know when exactly it is that you had tired out your straining throat. Within the field of your swimming vision, you see him - a predator, stationed amidst your thighs like a telling of evil, eyes never leaving you, even as you buck and lean off, away, from him.

He is merely amused. He gives you silence, and then in the wake of it, a toothy smile, “What is it?”

He knows fully well what it was.

Even then, Paul gives you no chance to answer for yourself and your tears. He leans forward, till his nose presses against the curve of your cunt, deliciously put together in a way that makes you whine above him, before his tongue darts out for a proper taste of you. First, he licks patiently. He is polite with the flat intrusion of the muscle against your folds, to which you respond with nothing but a low, guttural moan.

“Do you like that?” he presses further into you, appreciating how you melt onto his tongue. When you do not answer, he raises his eyes from above the lines of your stomach and fixes them to meet your hazy, clouded ones.

Only then, does he realise, he doesn’t have it in him to stop.

Then, he is a starved thing. Cruel and unusually rough in the way he ravages you. Where his tongue remained slow and less imposing against the very many nerves before, now it lay licking at your entrance. It made your skin crawl, truth be told, how his fervor had no bounds. In seconds, he closes his mouth against your cunt and makes a sickening sound when he sups your slit - and then watches intently as a mixture of your juices and his slaver goes to drip off of your cunt and onto the satin below your hips.

You, in your delirium, pause to quiver violently in the grip that he holds you against him. With a shaking voice, you warn him, “Wait—”

“None of that,” he says - no, growls - against you. It instantly shoots through you and sends straight to your head, where you dissolve into a fit of sorts. You cry into the mattress, mouth hung open with a drool and your stomach contracting, with the way he doesn’t relent, “I need to taste you.”

You are tasting me, are you not?

You think the question - for there is no strength in you. You find yourself succumbing fully to him, your body reduced to the very many twitches and spasms that the human body was capable of. When you reach down and settle for a fistful of his curls, he groans the next time he licks a stripe against your cunt, tongue just barely intruding you.

He isn’t here to fuck you. At-least, not yet. He is here for a taste.

“Tastes so good,” you realise he is speaking again, voice bordering on something dangerous, as he pulls away for a second. When you trust yourself and submit to basic motor function to lift your head off the pillow and glance down in between your legs, you find that Paul is dreadful in the way he looks.

His chin tracks with remnants of your juices, a string of it connected still to your throbbing muscle below. When his tongue does dart out, it is to lick partially at the filth collected at the corners of his mouth. Like he just cannot get enough of you. Unadulterated greed.

Within the silence that follows, save for the heaving breath you allow yourself, he eyes you curiously. The sense of danger is gone and replaced with a curiosity. Like: how much must he lick till you have exhausted yourself? How hard does he need to lay his tongue against your cunt to have you shaking?

But you cannot know for sure, for he doesn’t speak.

“Will you—” he speaks firmly, truly, to your surprise, and you catch the words, despite the hot rush of blood in your ears, “Will you let me continue?”

Your stomach tightens, for a reason you do not know exactly. Perhaps it is desire.

And, in the seconds that follow, even as you are being melted, thawed and branded into something new by his will alone, you manage a nod, closing your eyes by instinct, “Yes—Paul. Continue. Please.”

He smiles, wider and more allowing of the lines that shape against his cheekbones. This time, he takes no time - his arm hooks under your knee and pulls you in close, despite your initial shock. His tongue barely has a chance to lay flat against you, to test the waters and have you for a second at peace, before it prods in you.

You lurch, naturally, but he pins you down onto the bed, and then pulls you to him accordingly, so that the fat of your thighs are pressed to his shoulders. And he is shameless when he does it, because he is so thoroughly preoccupied; with his tongue fucking in and out of your quivering hole, reaching up and into places that he cannot possibly see, but can only reach by taste and feel.

Even now, he is encompassed by your heat, the swell of your presence, when your walls push against the muscle of his tongue hard. Even at that, he lets out an uncoordinated, fiendish moan - taken by the feeling.

“Gonna have you,” he talks to you desperately, taking you to a high he experiences by proxy, his roughened fingers now dipping mischievously into you with no problem, “Need to have you.”

You cannot manage by breath alone. So, you fist the sheets.

The silky material is strained in your fist, bedding pulled apart as you gasp and screech at the strength he fucks his tongue into you, and it is barely tucked into four corners anymore. You cannot find yourself to care. All that is in you is heat and the promise of his name.

In and out. In and out. In and out.

He goes, and he takes, and he consumes part of you. He doesn’t care for the way your body bends away from him, or the way your walls weigh in like clockwork against his tongue when he pushes his way in deeper - all he wants is your spent on his tongue. All for him, to taste.

He knows it now, peeking tiredly above your stomach, catching the way your eyes are sewn shut and mouth unforgiving with its bouts of curses and moans, that it is all for him.

And even as you stretch out beautifully above him, your hand pushing weakly against his scalp as to escape the painful end that he wrenches out of you with his mouth alone, even as his tongue cramps inside of you as you loosen and warm against his tongue, even when the bitter taste of your spent coats the roof of his mouth -

- he forces his way into you again, smirking crookedly when you let out a broken cry and fight for reprieve, seconds after the pleasure he had given you just before.

Because even in the birth of his exhaustion, he can’t find it in himself - or more appropriately, doesn’t like - to stop from taking what is truly his.

#paul atreides x reader #paul atreides x you #paul atreides fic #paul atreides fanfic #dune x reader #dune x you #dune paul x you #paul x you

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nyrasproblm · 1 month

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For you to stay with me

dark!Paul Atreides x reader (fremen)

note: Chani is not Paul's lover in this story, but the reader! I created this story based on Crimson Peak's dialogue from the list of phrases I took from this post.

Word Count: 0,5K

Warning: angst, poisoning, possessive behavior, attempted manipulation

You walked aimlessly through the corridors of the Palace, your vision blurred by tears, your steps not so steady. You walked as fast as possible, trying to get as far away from him as possible. You wanted to summon a shai-hulud and head out into the desert, but you couldn't do that in your current state of health.

You tried to breathe properly, but instead you just sobbed, reality crashing down on you more severely with each passing minute. Some servants passed by you with worried or scared expressions, but they didn't say anything and just walked on.

You tried to walk faster but you felt dizzy, so you let out a groan of frustration and placed your hands on your knees, taking a deep breath. The moment was interrupted when two thin, slightly calloused hands held you and guided you to lean against a wall.

Paul.

He made you lean your back against the wall as you tried to free yourself. He held your hands tightly inside his, towards your chin. You were in such bad health that you hadn't even heard him approaching.

"Calm down, calm down, please." he spoke in a soft voice, which you now knew was just a facade.

You moaned weakly at the pain of the grip on your wrists and continued trying to free yourself uselessly, tears now flowing freely down your face. You let out a painful sob and felt your knees weaken.

"Let's talk, calm down." Paul speaks again and you turn tearful eyes to him.

"Talk? How can you ask me that?" you twist your wrists in a frustrated attempt to free yourself. "Let go of me!"

Paul was poisoning you. He knew you wouldn't accept being his concubine after he married Princess Irulan, he knew you would leave and might never see you again. He asked you for some time to talk a few weeks ago and you accepted after much insistence from him, but the conversation ended up being postponed and you remained in the Arrakis palace for longer.

Every time you thought about leaving, Paul found a way to distract you and make you change your mind, and when he started failing to convince you to stay, you started to feel really bad about your health. You felt dizzy, weak bones, some pain, so it was difficult to get to the desert to summon a sandworm.

You would suspect that it was due to the food or the environment, after all you have been used to being exposed to the spice throughout your life and being in an environment with almost no spice could have induced this effect. Well, that could be it, but wasn't.

You knew you shouldn't listen, but you arrived early at Paul's boardroom and overheard him talking to his mother, openly admitting that he had been poisoning you by putting the substance in your food and drink for weeks. He looked scared while he was telling you this, you tried to get out of there but you made noise and he heard you.

"Be reasonable." he begged while still holding your wrists tightly.

"You lied to me." you sniffed

"I did."

"You poisoned me!"

"I did."

"You told me you loved me!"

"I do." you looked into Paul’s pleading eyes. "I do." he repeated.

You tried to pull away, your wrists already sore from his grip, but you felt another dizziness and your consciousness slowly left you.

#paul atreides #paul atreides x reader #paul muad'dib #fem reader #fremen reader #crimson peak #prompt #dune fic #dune fanfiction #dune 2 #paul x you

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britany1997 · 1 month

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Signed, Sealed, Delivered…I’m Yours

Paul x GN Selkie Reader

Paul x creature partner is my favvvv, think he would be so cute with a selkie reader🥰🥰 hope y’all love this! Not sure if there will be more yet but I plan to keep it fluffy regardless:)

(Also Paul is on the Santa Carla ocean conservation board because of Fishy, so he’s an advocate for all sea creatures🥹)

Warnings: reader is mentioned to be nude a couple times because in selkie lore, they are when they shed their seal skin🤷🏻‍♀️ (readers body not described)

Paul’s teeth tore into the skin of some asshole’s neck. He was sure at one point he’d known his name, but after an endless night of sharing joints, it was long forgotten.

Paul wasn’t picky about his blood, but stoners were his filet mignon. They had a sweet and spicy flavor, and they always left him with a buzz.

This one was yummy, but he’d been insufferable. He wore a scarf and wire rimmed glasses he didn’t need, he was a philosophy major who’d met both of his girlfriends in his gender studies class, and ten minutes into their conversation, he’d explained to Paul that it was actually pronounced “Van Goff” and not “Van Go.” Paul had quickly moved him from his smoke circle list to his dinner list.

As he sucked the last drops out of Mr. Pretentious, Paul let his body fall to the sandy ground underneath the boardwalk.

He checked his watch, there was still time before sunrise. Paul couldn’t think of anything better to do with the rest of his night then ride out his high on the beach.

Dwayne seemed to like it after all.

Paul snuck away from his dumping grounds and began to stumble towards the shore.

He paused, rubbing his eyes.

He had to be hallucinating, because reclining on the sand was the most attractive person he’d ever seen in his unlife…

…totally naked. God what was in that weed.

He rubbed his eyes again. You were still there.

So this was why Dwayne loved the beach so much.

You were radiant. Alluring in a way that made Paul swear he’d dreamed you up. No person was that perfect. He was over the moon instantly.

A look of pure determination washed over his face as he desperately tried to conjure the words to speak to you. He scowled as he thought this would have been a lot easier if he was sober.

After a few minutes, he realized he’d better come up with something quick because he’d been fumbling around behind you for an almost unacceptable amount of time.

Just as he was about to approach you, he watched you shiver as a cool breeze blew past. Your arms crossed over yourself, rubbing your shoulders as you tried to keep warm.

Paul softened. He may have been a bloodthirsty, vicious vampire. But dammit, he was also a gentle man.

His eyes scanned the shore until they landed on a sleek leather coat.

Paul strode to your side and picked up the coat, smoothing it out a little.

You whirled around, fear blooming in your chest at the sight of a strange man holding your coat, your only escape to the ocean.

But instead of keeping the coat for himself, he flashed you a warm smile and held it out to you.

“You must be freezing,” he said, maintaining impressive eye contact as your naked body graced the sand.

Your jaw dropped. You’d heard many horror stories from elder selkies about the cruel and savage human men who would hunt down stunning selkies, only to take their coats and lock them away. Confining the selkies to the land, and shackling them to the men who’d stolen from them.

The captured selkies would be forced to live as humans while their hearts ached desperately for the world beneath the water.

You’d met some of your kind who’d suffered this terrible fate and escaped, but some you knew had never returned.

But this sweet, handsome man, he was giving you your coat? You’d never heard of such a kind human man.

You took the coat from his hands, half expecting him to yank it back, but he didn’t, he let you take it. “Thank you,” you uttered reverently, folding the coat over your arms.

“No problem baby,” his smile widened, “what’s a babe like you doing out here so late?”

Your eyes narrowed in confusion. “I- I’m not a baby,” you told him. You had thought you looked like any regular adult human in this form.

Paul’s eyes widened, “oh uh, no sorry that’s not what I meant,” he rubbed the back of his neck. “It’s like uh…well you know it’s a nickname.”

He was wayyy to high for this.

“Nick…name?” You rubbed your temples, “but my name is not nick…” you trailed off, confused.

Paul’s head was pounding. “No, sugar, it’s like um…it’s like a nice thing to call someone you know?”

Your face flashed with something Paul thought resembled understanding as you nodded slowly.

“Damn babe, you from outer space or somethin?” He asked, only half-joking.

“No,” you replied.

“Mkay,” he shrugged, hey he had secrets too, one of them was currently decomposing under the boardwalk.

He noticed your shoulders shake before realizing the coat was still in your arms, “you’re not gonna put that on sweetheart?” he asked.

Your lips pulled downward. You weren’t ready to change back yet. Not when you were having such a wonderful time with this man. He was teaching you important human things. You figured you’d better stick around.

You vigorously shook your head no.

Paul mirrored your frown. He couldn’t let you freeze to death. “Alright baby well at least take mine,” he offered as he shrugged out of his own jacket and placed it around your shoulders.

You could have melted into a puddle right there.

This man hadn’t just returned your coat. He’d given you his coat as well. What a strong man he must be to brave the cold. He would be the perfect mate.

You practically purred as he buttoned the jacked around your shoulders. You leaned in to nuzzle against his shoulder. “You’re so strong” you hummed, “so warm, so handsome.”

God bless the beach.

Paul beamed, “yeah baby? I hit the gym every now and again, nothin special.” He flexed his bicep with a smirk.

“Mmm,” you hummed, moving closer to press your cheek to his chest, wrapping your arms around him, desperate to be close.

A goofy smile spread across Paul’s face as he couldn’t imagine a man on earth as lucky as he was.

Then he remembered. Daylight.

His watch confirmed his fears, it was time to go.

“Listen sugar, I could do this all night but I’ve gotta get going,” he cursed his Sun intolerant vampire body, “but give me your number honey and I’ll call you anytime.”

You glanced up at him, confusion written all over your face. “Which number do you want?” You asked.

His brow furrowed, “home, cell, work, whatever you have babe.”

“Three?” You guessed.

Paul shook his head in disbelief.

“Let’s try this, where do you live baby?” He asked.

You smiled, you knew this one.

“With you,” you purred, wrapping yourself around him once more.

Paul raised an eyebrow, “what?”

“I live with you now,” you informed him.

Paul stood still for a second, processing as you held him.

“Yeah ok,” he said, taking your hand and tugging you toward his motorcycle. Best night ever.

TLB Taglist❤️: (comment to be added)

@6lostgirl6 @misslavenderlady @crustyboypix @arenpath @anna1306 @bloodywickedvamp @kurt-nightcrawler @ria-coolgirl @gothamslostboy @vampirefilmlover @lostboys1987girl @solobagginses @dwaynedelight @dwaynesluscioushair @warrior-616 @sad-ghost-of-garbage @chiefdirector @its-freaking-bats @arbesa-mind @f4iryfxies @mickkmaiden333 @bitchyexpertprincess @katerinaval @rynsfandomsfun @softchonk @walmart-cereal @fraudfrog @memphiscity69

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goldenatreides · 4 days

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dune masterlist

hi! i’m vee! she/her, 20s

my askbox is open! feel free to come chat or request—but no promises if requests will be finished or not. your honor i am just a girl 💌

i write mainly paul x reader. bc i am insufferable.

NO use of y/n. will also be branching out in paul x chani, feyd x reader, feyd x irulan. maybe even paul x irulan. who knows!!! not me!!

WARNING: most of my fics may be 18+ and will be marked as such. MDNI!

i dont currently have a tag list, but let me know if you want me to make one! 🏷️

[ - paul atreides x reader - ]

-> training season (18+) [coming VERY soon]

[one shot, 2k words, fluff, smut, pining <3]

in a pinch, a dusty old supply closet turns out to be a good hiding spot, actually.

-> daylight (18+) [coming soon]

in which wine and ballrooms lead to an interesting arrangement. after all, who better to understand the burdens of an heir bound to duty than another?

-> espresso (18+) [coming VERY soon]

[one shot, 2k words, smut, emperor!paul, potential dubcon?? under the influence of spice]

you serve the emperor paul atreides his morning spice coffee.

-> worship at the altar of your sins (18+) [coming soon]

the fool saint, the false messiah, the despot prophet. he can give you the moon and the stars but all you ever needed was him.

-> maroon (18+) [coming soon]

both blood and wine are crimson in the snow.

-> untitled (18+) [coming soon]

[one shot, 1.5k words, smut, paul is a cocky little bitch]

in which paul shows you exactly why he wanted to be a pilot.

[ - feyd rautha x reader - ]

my boy only breaks his favorite toys (18+) [coming soon]

you’re queen of sandcastles he destroys.

-> will be updated as stories get published. thanks for your support!! all feedback is always appreciated. 🤍

-> please do not reupload/redistribute my work anywhere else. the only other place you can find it is my ao3.

-> thank you to @cafekitsune for the banners!

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zapreportsblog · 7 months

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⤷ POLY LOST BOYS ⤶

fractured bonds

taking care of our baby

my child

⤷ MARKO ⤶

⤷ DWAYNE ⤶

⤷PAUL ⤶

⤷MICHAEL EMERSON ⤶

⤷ STAR⤶

my child

⤷OTHER CHARACTERS ⤶

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jaxmos · 1 month

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has anybody done this yet

#dune #dune part 2 #dune 2 #paul atreides #feyd rautha #feyd x paul #kwisatz haderach #you know i had to dune it to em #dune 2 chicks at the same time #movie shitpost #kino #laundry and taxes #peyd-rautha harkonnen

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cosmictheo · 29 days

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𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐆𝐈𝐑𝐋𝐒 | feyd-rautha

(gif credits to @pascow)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You fear me?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

#dune 2 #dune #dune part two #dune imagine #dune movie #dune one shot #dune x reader #feyd rautha x you #feyd rautha x reader #feyd rautha #feyd rautha harkonnen x reader #feyd rautha harkonnen #paul atreides #paul atreides x reader #cosmictheo #feyd x reader #dune part 2 #feyd x you #feyd oneshot

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vaultlucy · 2 months

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Paul Atreides & Feyd Rautha in Dune: Part Two // Dune by Frank Hubert, Chapter 48

#have another longer web weavy post i was working on but like #they’re mirrors #they’re foils #inversed doppelgängers #you don’t get it #duneedit #feyd x paul #paul atreides #feyd rautha #paul x feyd #feydpaul #paulfeyd #feyd rautha harkonnen #dune part two #dune part 2 #dune #*dune #*

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ghostgirl101 · 1 month

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Imagine if Paul Atreides claimed you as his destiny: PART Ⅰ of Ⅱ

|| Word Count: 1.5K || Angst → Fluff ||

A/N: I had this as a big idea that I had to get down before the basic headcanons and stuff, so here's my take on our Lisan al Gaib 😎 if you like this then hit me up for some relationship headcanons and the like, I'm up for it all. Enjoy reading or watching the movie if you haven't already - I'm going again lol, and screen X is the best way to experience it fr Also I feel like I should write a second part to this lmao, if you liked what you read?

You weren't one for dreams of destiny.

The dreams you had seemed meaningless, confusing, nothing to do with what ifs and what could. Not like his.

But you always seemed to feel some kind of atmosphere, an aura you couldn't quite shake off, even when you woke up from the darkness. There was no face to go with the voice, the voice in the dark that called to you in whispers that you didn't understand. Beautiful words that weren't yours, but sounded so soft and gentle and powerful, as they reached out to you from distant lands.

You could never place them, pin them down and study them, understand them, until the day the Emperor was challenged by a ghost of a lost House, thought to be dead, left to be forgotten. You stand near the Emperor and his guards and men, the Great Houses looming and listening from higher above, as the Fremen fill up the space to watch the confrontation in spirited anticipation.

The life debt was paid. The late Emperor was overthrown. The ascendancy of Paul Atreides rose and took from the throne to claim it.

His attention flicks from his eyes boring coldly into the Emperor's, to meet yours, his voice smooth and set, full of conviction and force.

"Our destiny is together. I'll take her."

Your eyes widen slightly as his words sink in, blinking through the shock and incredulity that rushes through you and makes your heart race in apprehension and wonder. Though his voice twins with your wandering dreams, you don't know whether to feel fascination and longing, or fear and cautiousness at some greater force beyond your understanding, playing out before your very eyes.

"I..." your voice falters in uncertainty and disbelief, and you try again. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me well," Paul responds with an undying, stoic certainty that's almost unnerving. "As I know you."

His eyes study you, his Spice-stained blue eyes bleeding into yours, scanning every freckle on your face and curve of your outfit. Assessing you, knowing you, ridiculous throngs of power filling his aura and projecting onto you with his intense stare. You have to fight not to shiver under it, ultimately failing.

"What of me?" is the wisest reply you can think of before the silence stretches into dangerous uncertainty.

"Everything," Paul says evenly, but there's no mistaking the challenge and determination in his tone, almost daring you to reject him, to disagree, a built-up desire of dreamt promises resolving his stand. "I choose you, as my Empress. We will rule together, over the Empire."

Scepticism and bewilderment washes over you and makes your blood heat and stir, retreating into silence as he takes a step closer to you, gazing at you as if you're the most curious, exotic being he's ever seen.

Desire threatens to override Paul Atreides' reason, clinging onto the hope and chance of a narrow way through to light, a light that could only be sought out with you by his side. Without you, there was nothing in sight but pools of blood replacing luscious marine life and oceans running through Arrakis, disarray and disillusion at every turn and infecting every heart.

You were absolutely perfect.

And you were already his, long before this moment, before you and he were born into the world and named. There was no manipulation needed, because everything was laid out for him to take, welcoming him to rule and grow higher and higher. Fate had bonded you and strung you along to here and now, and as you blink up into his bright eyes that narrow slightly at you, frowning softly as if you hadn't understood his demand.

"Do you know what I am?"

You pause for a moment, speaking slowly and cautiously, as the crowd of Fremen and the wary, late Emperor watch on in tense wordlessness. "You are Leto Atreides' son. Former Duke of Caladan."

"What I am," Paul repeats evenly, "not who I am." He stares at you in silence for another beat, before speaking up again. "Do you know of the Bene Gesserit?"

You stop yourself from glancing in Lady Jessica's direction just in time; the runes patterning her skin, her once soft eyes now spiked with an unfamiliar darkness of ages past. Anyone could get trapped in her watchful glare, and her son's holds almost as much intensity.

"No," you decide on hesitantly.

"Kwisatz Hederach," he adds, taking another step forward until you can feel his breath tickling your cheeks, standing above you with unspoken grace and vigor. "I see the future. A part of me is the future."

His hand is suddenly squeezing yours warmly and tightly, making you flinch slightly and glance down at them before looking back up at him.

"In this future, I am with you."

All you can do is stare at him in awe and wariness, not knowing whether to let your curiosity guide you, or distance yourself as far as possible from the boy who reigns over the dunes.

"Why?" you whisper, the crowds seeming to fade around you as you focus on the boy in front of you, his fingers tangling with yours boldly.

"I've seen it," Paul insists, his tone a touch softer in thought and wistfulness. "All of it. When I am with you..." His grip tightens over yours, the fire in his eyes returning. "We're unstoppable."

"And..." your words dry before you can speak them, and you will yourself to go on, unable to break away from the deep blue hues of his gaze. "And without?"

His jaw visibly clenches at your question, and his hand drops yours, shaking his head only answer as he glances away in slight frustration.

"You don't have the leisure of choice. It's all been made for you, written in the sands and stars, and what you need to do is walk in its path. I will show you the way. You have no other. Do you understand?"

The firmness is strong in his words and glare, making you look away from him too, still in a slight stun over the rush of events. In less than a day, your freedom has been stripped to this young man's desires and destiny, entwined with yours. You, who barely knew him until now, only familiar with his voice, his words, that echoed and rang in your head like a lullaby.

But this feels so harsh and strict. The eyes of the former Emporer linger between the two of you, and Paul's army of Fremen stand behind him attentively, some gazing at you in admiration and hope, of their messiah's promised bride. And she is beautiful.

"That's unfair."

"The future is unfair," Paul says calmly, his collected, cool tone wavering for a moment. "But it will be so much worse without you by my side, and I will not accept that. Not for my people... not for myself."

You stare at him in fascination and caution, lost for words. His fingers rise to brush against the skin of your cheek, sending tingles in their wake and making you fight back the automatic reaction, your eyes following his surprisingly gentle touch. Two fingers trace down the shape of your cheek down to your chin, tilting your head slightly upwards. Just one step closer, and your lips would be touching too.

"Name anything," he murmurs to you, the Fremen straining to hear his voice as it reaches you effortlessly, his expression earnest and determined. "Anything. And it is yours. Only if you willingly wed me in turn. Not as a concubine, nor a mistress."

You blink, then blink again, taken aback as a million thoughts and suggestions race through your mind and make your head spin for a split second. You glance at the elder Emperor, who gazes back at you and the infamous Lisan al Gaib wearily, his eyes clouded with sombreness and light spite.

"I... I don't," you shake your head, overwhelmed by an impossible choice. "I don't know..."

Paul's expression softens into a smile you haven't seen before, one that makes your cheeks flush with colour as you watch him; a gentle, amused smile that's somehow familiar and unfamiliar all at once, one meant just for you, as he disregards his surroundings.

"You will know," he replies quietly, "and I will have you, and protect you, rule with you. Love you. As I am meant to."

Paul suddenly brings you closer, pulling you into a searing kiss without warning. The exotic, earthy taste of the Spice on his tongue floods your senses and sends shudders of ecstasy and heat coursing under your skin and hushing the myriad of thoughts buzzing in your mind in an instant.

When he pulls away, all too soon, you find yourself chasing his lips before you catch yourself, and Paul gives you another soft smile, his forehead resting against yours as your eyes lock.

"And as I long to," he finishes against your lips, his words grounded with a look of protectiveness and desire that makes you instinctively relax further in his hold.

⊹⊹⊹

From beyond you both, his mother smiles slightly at the scene, a hand hovering over her rounded stomach.

The first step has been made.

══════════════⊹⊱≼ part two coming soon ≽⊰⊹══════════════

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faetreides · 29 days

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summary: paul atreides x plus sized afab servant!reader

cw: power imbalance, somnophilia (dubcon in my mind as the reader wouldn’t push him away if they woke up but feel free to skip this if you could feel icked out by it), petplay (cheated again and didn’t make it explicit but it’s very petplay coded in a way), size difference (paul’s the skinny bf that would fall over if a gust of wind was strong enough), paul eats reader out, crack treated seriously vibes bc he’s so awkward 💀, ambiguous somno occasion (like how the reader fell asleep), implications of improper use of the voice but it’s weak for this paul era so reader could probably push against it, possible dune lore inaccuracies idk don’t think just vibe

wc: 1k +

block & move on if uncomfortable !!!

don’t repost, translate, or give ai my work

kinktober masterlist

You’re having the same dream again. Paul Atreides, the duke’s son who you are tasked with looking after is the star.

He looms over you as you lie flat on your back, though in your dream you’re never in your servant’s quarters. No, the surrounding walls bear a more striking resemblance to Paul’s bedroom. You’re always groggy in the dream, which is a strange feeling to have when you usually are profoundly awake in your other dreams.

You’ve only been having this one since you arrived on Caladan from a smaller planet with no name that they took ownership of. Paul Atreides had seemed to seek you out like a moth to a flame, making a beeline for you and demanding in front of your mother that his father hire you. Even weirder was the fact that the ships belonging to the Atreides left immediately after you agreed to go with them, as if the trip had only one purpose.

“Shh, mouse, it’s just me. Don’t wake up.” He whispers, nuzzling his nose against yours and pecking your lips.

You lie there in a daze, eyes wide and mouth agape as Paul reaches for the fastenings of your top. It’s an orange silk number he gifted you, all your clothes are. Your breaths come out in shallow pants, the disbelief that Paul Atreides would be disrobing you with the intent to bed you is overwhelming. He gives your plush curves loving squeezes as he reveals more and more skin.

Eventually you’re stark naked under him. You sluggishly try to cover yourself with your hands but Paul swiftly knocks them aside, pinning them to your sides so he can drink in the mouth watering image. You have no idea how many dreams he has had of you, ones concerning moments like these and ones about the life you’ll experience together in between. A gaggle of tiny feet playing tag around his throne, domestic mornings of blissful silence waltzing in the dining room.

“I…. I have never seen anyone as beautiful as you, i swear it.” Your heart skips a beat, despite knowing very well that this is all some passing fancy. Dreams never have to see the light of day, so you can luxuriate in your delusions.

Paul leans down to shakily mouth at your collarbone, scraping his teeth against the skin and playing with your love handles. You whimper as he litters your rough skin with love bites, you open your mouth to apologize that it’s not as smooth as a noble consort’s would be, but something in the way he shoves his tongue in your mouth to silence you tells you he somehow already knows.

You poke and pull at his dark shirt, the fine black material feeling like heaven but you’d rather it cover your garments next to the bed.

Paul chuckles, nipping at your lips and pulling back to shirk his clothing off. He throws it across the room and goes back to kissing his way down your thick body. Once he reaches your stomach, he takes extra special care to dote on the rolls of skin, softly kissing and pressing his forehead against them.

“You would be a beautiful bride, you know…”

“Um… thank you, sir.” You squirm, all the attention on someone like you from someone like your employer’s son becoming too real. The Paul Atreides would sooner be lost to the sands of Arrakis than utter those words to you in the waking world, but perhaps your long harbored infatuation has leaked into your subconscious.

He smiles, as if charmed by your shyness. “You’re welcome, mouse.”

His favorite nickname for you, given to you due to your adorable scurrying around to avoid others and shy high pitched squeaks that you use instead of words. (Also because he saw you crouch in a corner and nibble on a piece of bread that you had managed to snag from the table.)

He sits back on his heels to grab your thighs, the skin bulging in between his fingers. He draws you into a slow and sensual kiss as he pushes them apart and sinks into the empty space. You squeak in shock when you feel something stiff press against your wet pussy, but Paul only shushes you in your head and you relax again.

“Mmm~” He hums, flicking his tongue against the seam of your lips and lifting himself to hover over you once more.

He winks before tightening his grip on your thighs and stretching them wide enough for him to slink down and have access to the small hole at their apex.

You jolt when he presses a soft kiss to the top of your mound. You squeak and try to close your thighs around his head but he doesn’t let you, keeping your thighs pinned to the bed and licking a flat stripe up your pussy.

“So sweet, mouse….” Paul grins and repeats the motion a few times. “I could just spread you out over the table whenever I need to eat.”

You moan at the attention, desperately wishing that you could grind against Paul’s mouth but it feels like something more than his grip is holding you back, something about the touch seeming too vivid. You shake the thought away and sink your fingers into his hair, brushing any strays away from his face as he moves to suck on your clit.

He hollows out his cheeks a bit to get better suction on your fat clit. Paul nuzzles his face as deep into you as he can possibly get, the chubby lips of your pussy sandwiching his nose. You wrench your eyes shut as your pleasure builds and builds, but a single thin finger eases into your hole right as you’re about to tumble over the edge. The intrusion isn’t painful so much as it is entirely foreign to you, the second finger goes in much easier.

The combination of eating you out and finger fucking you makes the knot in you stomach blessedly come undone. Paul swallows it all down like there’s no better substance in the grand scheme of the universe.

You hope to have this dream again tomorrow, even at the cost of being able to look Paul Atreides in the eyes.

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qvrcll · 13 days

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Warnings: mentions of political marriages, strangers > friends > lovers, kissing near towards the end, mentat at mind, lover boy at heart

The ordeal is simple — at-least on paper. You and Paul are meant to be wed on the single promise of a shared goal between the two of your houses, which come down to one thing and one thing only: security. Wealth, power and standing do not surmount to what, in Leto’s words, the Emperor has planned for the futility of house Atreides. He knows, Thufir knows, everyone knows, that Arrakis wasn’t branded to be some sweetly wrapped gift that fell into his lap when the time came to reward the duke. No - matters of this sort were much too systematic, especially at a scale such as this. Something must be done, to solidify the house of Atreides upon the rain-swept expanse of Caladan. Something to bind the Atreides to their mother planet long enough, so there might not be strife or conflict that sharpens whatever blade is held against them. So, wed Paul you must.

Simple doesn’t translate so easily against the obscurity that is the real world.

In the real world, the two of you are mere strangers. The only thing that binds the two of you is the responsibility bourne from the insignias that you wear, that are soon to culminate as two adjoining houses; whilst his happen to be two thick lines of silver against his collar, yours take on a different shape, a strange alterity between curves and striking lines, and shot through with gold against the sleeve of your garments. There is it — the mere tellings of your differences, as pure as day. He wonders how the symbols will look like, meshed together and serving as one. He wonders how he will appear next to you - frail boy or able man?

Half of the time, you catch his eye simply because you are there, sitting duly next to your father and ascertaining the weight of such a marriage past paper, when all is said and done. Other times, you are a blurring fragment in the hallways, swathed in your house’s colours and too fleeting to get a hold on, sometimes even flanked by your house’s livery. Mere strangers, he reminds the indiscernible feeling in his chest.

“Where is your head at? Focus!” Gurney growls out, more harsh tempered than his usual mood, as he crouches and takes Paul’s fair strike for what it was - a clean swipe that was meant for his chest, which now deflects smoothly off of the older, more haggard man’s shield, and sets the room abuzz with vibrations. And so the smell of ozone worsens, Paul calculates in his head, as he shakes his head thoroughly and shifts his grip on his weapon. Gurney isn’t impressed — not in the way he usually is. Paul knows he must answer.

“This is me focusing,” Paul offers, and doesn’t grit his teeth or possess a sudden candour with his strikes because he respects Gurney. But he cannot help the mood that has blanched him - voids, how he wishes he could confess those words, verbatim, to the older man who currently encircles his passes like a seasoned ring-fighter. But the word ‘mood’ had gotten him in line last week, when Gurney had simply upped his antics with the mere mention of it, “I’m just out of breath.”

“No, you’re not.” Gurney smiles, clenching his palm around the ragged hilt of the Kindjal. He knows, Paul thinks bitterly.

“No, I’m not.” Paul confesses. He tests a low swoop of his dagger - ill-advised - and reigns his laugh in when it catches Gurney off his feet, his back staggering against the training table.

Let’s see how you like this, lad, Gurney formalises in his mind, as he presses his defence like a bull and keeps his attacks slow and pulsing through the air, blinding all of Paul’s spots, “Is it the marriage?”

Cornered for tactics, and focusing mostly on not getting cleaved to pieces during training, Paul scoffs, “Of course it’s the marriage.”

“You’re scared.”

At this, Paul counters metal with metal, bounding back when it rings against his ears, rings against the room, “I’m not scared. I’m prepared to fulfil my duty, even if I am given options,” a dull parry, which still creates momentum, and thus space, between the two men, “I’m only uneasy because I’ve never actually met her.”

“You have. Several times. Or have you been asleep throughout your father’s meetings?”

Paul stresses a firm strike against Gurney, which repels off of his own shield by how close the dagger strikes the space between them. But he’s good at catching himself. Gurney, unused to Paul’s strange and newly learnt manoeuvres, falls short. He tries to counter, but cannot, but he is most impressed for it.

“Concede.” Paul breathes, low and attempting a threatening veil, as Gurney’s back meets the floor. The old man grunts, before nodding deftly as Paul hauls him to his feet with one palm alone. They settle in different corners of the room, silence beseeching both of them suddenly - they’re not two men for silence, but in Gurney’s head, Paul is undergoing a strange part of his life. He wonders if Paul fears it in the night.

Paul interjects Gurney’s thoughts.

“Do you - have you… met her?” his voice is meek. Uncharacteristic. Gurney smirks.

“Once or twice, in the hallways.”

“And? How is she?”

Gurney laughs. The boy is eager today.

The next time I see her, I will speak, he promises.

Better said than done. With no similar companions his age - a course of action being the very result of his heritage, his mother reminds him - he truly doesn’t know how to properly seek you out. You are more shadow than friend, more idea than person, and the more he sees you, the more he forgets.

“Something on your mind?” Duncan nudges him with the edge of some Fremen equipment, that bothers him well enough to dredge out Paul’s concerns. Not that he needs to. It is written on his face.

“Yes,” Paul confesses, readjusting for comfort, “It’s about my marriage.”

“You speak as though you will marry tomorrow. It is not set it stone. Not yet.”

Paul scoffs, “I know that. I just haven’t met her yet. And I want to.”

Duncan, in the midst of polishing some hardware and solar devices, that smell quite faintly of hot sand and the sun, pauses to glance away from Paul’s face. When his gaze returns, it is almost teasing, a smirk ripping across his face, “You’re in luck today.”

“What?” Paul swivels and —

Oh. Oh.

You’re standing there. Hands clasped behind your back, yes. Stoic, assessing expression, yes. Clothed in rich colours of your house, as you always are in his passing vision - only this time, it is a green so deep that it comes across as black. Suddenly, realising that you have been found out by not only Duncan Idaho, but by the Duke’s son himself, you uncharacteristically let slip your own embarrassment through wide eyes.

“Oh. My apologies — I, uh, didn’t mean to intrude. I was just curious by the - er - gadgets.” you fumble for words at a rate that would be comical if not for the morbid embarrassment seizing you by the seconds. You’re shaking your head politely, smile strained and legs rooted where they are and ready to melt into the various corridors - back to your own duties, you assume. Away from company. Paul, however, stands linearly and full of purpose, face constructed of hard lines that all smile at you.

“No, please. Join us,” his voice is smooth - you’ve never heard him talk, even around those board room meetings - and his hand is extended to gesture within the space, “I insist.”

Duncan raises a brow in amusement and Paul wants to tamp his feet down with a neat blow. That pulls a chortle out of the man, which only further startles you. Paul invites you cordially to take a seat, where you fit awkwardly, like you were truly imposing. However, in a manner of minutes, that is all erased when Duncan lets the two of you weigh the objects in your hand – sand compactor, weapons, stinted devices that were far too aged to be still of use but gathering attention nonetheless. When Paul passes it to you, he feels your soft fingers pass underneath his own, where a warm feeling curdles as an afterthought.

“This—is a sand compactor?” you ask warily, tilting the device as though it would spring up on you and dissolve to bits. Duncan barks out a laugh.

“For sand compacting, yes.” he humours you. You, however, are too lost on the object, still swirling it around in your palms; eyes peeled downwards.

“Yes. I see.” you reply.

The two men dissolve into a fit of laughter. You look up, eyes helplessly trailing from one to the next. The day is easy.

Paul is thankful for the event, and so are you. It doesn’t solve all his problems, and his head is always probing with inquiries and worries, but he can count on the off chance of seeing you in the hallways. He can count on the fact that you will pause, meet his eyes and smile.

You’re walking the countless hallways of the estate - Caladan had so much water to offer, but no one on your native planet ever mentioned the striking architecture, the hollowed out walls and think-pieces painted across rooms. High domed ceilings, with absolutely nothing to offer but soft light. Some rooms contained scintillating glass, chairs of different shapes and mediums, tables too big for just a few affairs. Others were bound shut, but that didn’t discourage nor intimidate you, nor your entourage.

On one such day, you’re caught in your explorations by none other than the Atreides heir.

In actuality, it is you who catches him first, stood perfectly still at the end of the corridor and holding a terse expression. When he spots you, his shoulders relax and he manages to blink once, before his mouth opens underneath the realisation that you were really here.

“Hello.” his voice is strong, and carries well.

That was awkward. This is always awkward. He curses himself.

You smile, and it swipes at the ground beneath his feet, “I didn’t expect to see you here.

“This is my residence, yes?” more jest than anything else. You snort.

“I am aware. Your residence is quite beautiful. I like to wander,” you say, finding yourself fixing a meandering pace beside him, and he smiles softly when he realises that he, too, steps beside you at a similar speed, “I hope you don’t mind.”

“I don’t. Never.”

It is quick work after that – by pure coincidence, that you joke to Paul that is it is methodical instincts and ground-work as a mentat that he is able to summon himself almost anywhere you are present from that point onwards, you two bump into each other more and more in the corridors, and from there, it extends to the rather large library, the training space with Gurney skirting its edges, the ever-blossoming gardens even, which held more water than shrubbery in retrospect. Meetings pertaining to your marriage held an element of amusement now, as Paul actually tries to catch your eye this time, drumming his lithe and smooth fingers against the table in a way that could’ve passed off as a wandering of his mind as his father droned on about security measures and fuel caps, but you notice.

You hadn’t, not before, but you did now. To his pleasure, you even respond in a tiny flickering of fingers against the age-old meeting table, the vibrations a blur against his obvious contentment.

“You look glad.” Gurney comments and Paul realises how uninvolved his attention had been on the room before him. He quickly assesses it and whatever lays within it; table, check. Light source, check. Scratchy walls, check. Gurney’s ever-gracing height, check.

When had his habits, trained and chained to duty, begun to sweep towards you?

“Do I?” Paul asks, keeping his voice as still as he can manage. He had swiped at his face to rid the itch off his brow, but he unwittingly catches how warm he is. Not uncomfortable, no. But enough to leave a mark on his consciousness. It was like he was simply losing grip on his own composure when he thought of… something. It was still fleeting in his own mind.

He is too afraid to retrace his steps and find a familiar pair of eyes staring at him in the recesses of it.

Gurney slaps a hand on Paul’s shoulder, seemingly articulate with the latter’s feelings. Old man, Paul would curse out in jest, but he merely smiles. It is strained, and strange. Paul never puts an effort into his smiles, Gurney notes.

“Something is on your mind.” Gurney clicks his tongue.

Paul blinks, swallows, “Something is on my mind.”

“Out with it.”

Paul hesitates, which is strange, because in all his fights he is the first to stoke the flame. He isn’t vengeful – at-least, he doesn’t think he is – that’s why his strikes lack a hunger for blood and instead, settle for calculation. Briefness. No means to an end just yet. Or ever, he thinks.

But with you, it’s different. That’s what he spits out, what he lets Gurney work with. How you were a supposed intrusion into his life – something he had assumed would be awkward, like a stab wound that had scabbed over and began to weakly throb in pain, always to remind itself of its own compromise to work around demise. He thought you would be that; but upon meeting you, you were anything but that. You were curious and brilliant in your own way – similar to him, yet miles apart so that you were the form of a friend he had always wished for in his youth. You talked about your interests and spent double your time inquiring about his. When your hands brushed, his own grew clammy – that’s the strangest one of them all, Gurney – And something was blossoming – was it friendship? Was it trust? Was it fear?

What was this spattering and gooey mess slipping over the swell of his heart whenever you appeared? What was it?

He talks and talks and talks until Gurney squeezes his palm over Paul’s shoulder in a way an uncle would do to his nephew who he might want to reassure. Or a brother would to his youngest companion, as if to say: I see you. I hear what you say.

“Sounds to me like there’s an awful lot of trust between the two of you,” Gurney clicks his tongue again, only this time, Paul scoffs. Ah, there he is – there is the Paul Atreides I know, Gurney smiles, “And something else too.”

“What is it?” Paul asks. His eyes are curious, brows furrowed. Gurney holds down the laugh building in his chest, and the emboldened words in red: you’re falling in love with this friend of yours, boy, and instead, pats him on the shoulder.

“Piece of advice, if you’ll heed to anything I say,” Paul straightens with attention, “Let the truth flow. Do not stop it. Do not push it back. To live with the truth, you must learn its ways and be one with it.”

That night, Paul walks back to his room with the truth beneath his skin, and listens to his own heartbeat against his pillow. The rest of him warms with the realisation of, oh, oh, oh.

The next time you see Paul, you think you’d done something to offend him. Or bore him. Or something other.

It had become a pleasant habit; meeting him at the Caladan gardens, opting for a spot and sitting with your backs to the grass, counting the stars as you talked. Before, conversation had tipped forth whenever. Now, there was something in the air – tension. And it is him that brings it.

Paul avoids your eyes, settling instead for the vast colouring of grey across the hallway walls whenever he caught you in it. He had stopped sending you the familiar drumming of his fingertips across the meeting table, and instead always froze up when you met his gaze, whereby he turned red with anger – or was it anger? What was it?

He’d always be staring at your face, and you would wonder if there was a piece of parchment stuck to it, or if he was merely bored around you; most days, you allowed it. It stung, yes, but you had nothing ill to hold against him. But it accumulated, unbeknownst to you, and for him to miss your question yet again made you sigh in defeat – disappointment?

“You seem distracted,” you say, not bothering to shield the hurt in your words, though you couldn’t begin to understand why and when you had ever begun to crave expect the attention of his earthen-dusted eyes, “Am I boring you?”

He straightens up, his eyes wide, which in turn surprises you, “Bored? Seven hells, no. ‘Course not.”

“What did I just ask then?”

He cringes, “I promise I’m not bored. Just…”

His fingers flex in his lap, before curling into themselves, and his cheeks warm slightly. Is it happening now? Is he doing it now? The weather was right; a typical Caladan breeze, heavy with the wetting of the sky from the day, and now shrouded with clouds and a darkness that was impenetrable. Even as the two of you laid against the bare grass, no one outside could tell either of you apart from the ground itself. In the moonlight, you were almost one with it.

“Just?” you ask. You were curious of this now, “Just what?”

“Just!” he sucks in a harsh breath, his sharp face now boyishly soft and pliant in a way you hadn’t seen it before, “I… Just promise you won’t take offence to this.”

How ironic.

“I promise, Paul,” you smile, shoulder bumping against his as you glance at the side of his face, the way his nose shapes perfectly against the dampness of the Calandan wind, “Tell me.”

Be one with it. Be one with it. It is a mantra in his head.

“I realise that I have begun to grow a certain, uh, affection for you. Yes, I like you. I don’t know how it had begun. And I know it’s foolish of me to even act this way when we are set to marry. But I know, in my heart, that—“ a breath, as he nervously glances at your now surprised face and oh, he shuts his mouth. He opens it again, panicked, “My apologies. I shouldn’t have—let me—”

“Paul.” you stop him, hands against his one arm that seems to be quivering ever so slightly – how much of it can he hold?

He waits. Bated breath.

You smile, shy and sweet and it whips against him in a way that the wind of his mother planet had never managed to. Here is my dear friend, he thinks, my dear friend who was but a stranger a long time ago and is set to marry me once talks have been concluded. Here is my friend who I have poured my stupid, ill heart to and who still looks at me with kindness.

“I like you too.”

He blinks. He looks at you when you speak and watches, really watches, how your mouth forms against the words. I like you too.

“As a companion? Or friend, at best? Is that what your ‘like’ refers to?” he asks, nervous in the face of your admission. It makes you smile, as he rambles slightly, and though his countenance is that of poise and grace, beneath he is a a boy of tender heart. Smiling, you grab the front of his thick coat lapel and watch his words die on his tongue as you place a feathery, warm and soft kiss against his mouth. It was so unbelievable, he thought he’d conjured it all up – that you weren’t here, timidly kissing him with a sheepish smile on your face, and the stars of his home glinting against your skin. He lets his finger brush your cheek, still dumb-struck.

“Again.” he whispers. His heart hammers at the sound of your breathy laugh, as you repeat the action, conviction in your palms as they lay upon his cheek, “Again, please.”

“Again?” you ask, voice soft and muted as he hoists you atop of his front, chest to chest, and gazing at him like he was everything. Within the action, your golden insignia brushes his own, silver ones so briefly that he can make out a shape bourne from the contact of either two, before they separate. You wanted him, as he wanted you. And soon, you would wed, and the image of gold upon silver won’t be so unclear anymore. Maybe, somewhere warmer and less unbelievable, he could let himself grow familiar with the reality of you. But for now, he could settle for this to be a mere dream he had grown to relish so very much. Even now, he could almost believe none of this to be real, just a trick of the mind. Maybe fatigue or delusion.

He says your name so quietly, a plea, and it has never sounded sweeter, “Please.”

And yet, the soft press of your mouth upon his convinces him that it is so much more.

i wanted to incorporate some inferences of paul’s character from the early novel (mentat, solitude in terms of companions, great fighter), as well as the film, whilst wanting to stray away from the destruction of house atreides after the gifting of arrakis, which would explain why the marriage needs to take place. sooo no one dies! HURRAH!!!!!!!!! enjoy :]

#paul x you #dune paul x you #paul atreides fic #paul atreides x you #paul atreides fanfic #paul atreides x reader #paul atreides x y/n #dune x you #dune x reader #dune part two x reader

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nyrasproblm · 1 month

Text

I hope you never regret letting yourself be carried away by your ambition

part 2 of 2

Paul Atreides x platonic!atreides!reader (sister)

second part of this story

Word Count: 1,6K

Warning: angst, mention of torture, mention of death, abuse of authority.

Seeing how people were highly submissive and accepted anything from a superior was a not so new experience for you, but equally surprising. The speech that Lord Fenring tried to kill you because he was in a plot with the Harkonnens and that his death was in self-defense stuck, and the great houses remained silent about your accession to the throne of Caladan.

You didn't expect everything to be this easy, so you remained alert in case something got out of control or in case someone tried to take something that was yours again. Your military might wasn't much, but you knew you could count on the emperor's Sardaukar, or maybe even the baron's Harkonnen soldiers, if he was in the mood.

Sitting on the chair at the end of the far dining room table you were slightly bent over the book you were reading, the large doors were opened and your newly appointed general entered, carrying a message tube in his hands.

"Duchess, a message has arrived from Ginaz, I'm afraid it's not good news." he said and you reached out to take the tube.

"Get out." you ordered.

The general bowed and turned to leave. You sighed and then opened the tube and began to read the message formally written on the metal.

The message was short, brief and emotionless, reporting yout mother's death as if it were any other report. Your mother's death, almost a month ago.

Your mother was dead.

Feeling intoxicated by the heavy feeling in your chest, you look at the message and read it a few more times to make sure. But despite all your silent pleas for the message to magically change content and inform her that her mother was on her way to Caladan, it doesn't happen. The cold, cruel truth was stamped into the metal forever.

Feeling the weight on your chest increase, you thanked yourself for already sitting down, but you were so distraught that you decided to stand up, your legs going limp as you took unsteady steps, trying to support yourself on the table, your vision becoming blurry through tears.

How could this have happened? They didn't even name the cause of your mother's death. Why was this happening? After everything you've done, for you and for her. You gave up everything for her, just like she had to give up everything to marry your father and have you.

Shaking your head, you clenched your fists and suppressed the immense urge to scream, you couldn't scream. Why couldn't you have everything you wanted in life? When you had your mother alive, you didn't have the title that was rightfully yours, and now that you do, she's dead.

Perhaps you were being punished for the steps you took to regain your title. With your chest hurting and your head throbbing, you wiped away your tears and straightened your posture. It was no longer time to regret, what was done could not be undone.

With the death of your mother you slowly began to become bitter, and the messages you exchanged with Princess Irulan only increased your anger and bitterness even more: she insisted on saying that she suspected that your family was not completely annihilated on Arrakis. She said Paul was alive.

You put that aside and turned to other things within your own residence.

Uma coisa era certa, você estava imensamente desconfortável. A maioria dos seus servos atuais foram trazidos por Lorde Fenring quando ele veio para Caladan, a maioria dos servos Atreides foram com sua família para Arrakis. O que significava que os novos servos eram em sua maioria inúteis, o que te deixava cada vez mais impaciente e irritado.

So you, in your infinite kindness, decided to give your servants a second chance, training them to be obedient and to serve well.

You settled down with a book in your hand in a comfortable armchair as you listened to the whimpers and whimpers next to you, but you didn't look up from the book you were reading. The large doors of the room you were in were opened and immediately the noises from the glass stopped, which made you grip the book tightly in your hands. Your newly appointed general entered and stopped a few meters away.

"Did I tell you to stop? From the beginning, again." you said as you cast a sideways glance at the two girls on your left.

To your left, a straight path of broken glass was laid out on the floor, and two maids walked along it at a set pace. They weren't doing very well, as they were still whimpering and groaning in pain. They should have walked with their backs straight, their chins up and their expressions impassive. With your order, they left the glass and returned to the start.

"You should learn to announce your arrival, general." you continued with your face directed towards the book in your lap. "Maybe you should walk on the glass too."

The man, who was about your father's age, shivered slightly and swallowed hard, then you directed your gaze to him and saw that he had a message tube in one of his hands.

"And what is that?" you asked.

"A message from the Emperor, Duchess." he said and handed over the tube.

A formal summons for the Duchess of Caladan to go to Arrakis, as the emperor himself wanted to deal with the way the Harkonnens were governing, and deal with a more delicate matter: the suspicion that her brother was alive.

Sighing, you looked up at him.

"We leave tomorrow for Arrakis."

You knew something was wrong as soon as you entered the Emperor's massive floating ship on Arrakis. You placed yourself a few steps below the throne on his right side, in the same direction as Princess Irulan. The huge Baron Harkonnen, whom you saw for the first time, floated close and bowed as best he could, accompanied by his two nephews, as gloomy in appearance as his uncle himself. The baron was accused by the emperor of knowing that Paul was alive, his breathing tubes were cut and he fell to the ground, one of his nephews fled and only the youngest remained.

A huge battle appeared to be raging outside and the Sardaukar hurried to escort the princess and emperor into the middle of the room when a group of native Fremen burst through the doors. You were unconsciously pushed to a corner of the room, your general hurried to pull you closer by your elbow.

You held your breath when Paul entered the room, he looked around the room and everything around you seemed to stop when your eyes met his. He looked totally like his younger brother, his posture was different, his eyes were completely blue from the spice and he was wearing a still suit. Paul calmly walked over to the baron lying on the ground and quickly stabbed him after whispering a few words.

The scenes that followed passed by in a blur for you, you still didn't believe Paul had survived. Paul fought against Feyd-Rautha, took the title of emperor for himself and made the old emperor kneel to him, in addition, he took the hand of the princess Irulan.

You watched everything standing still, with a stoic expression on your face. You felt momentarily disoriented as you looked around the room, Lady Jessica was sitting on one side of the room, dressed like a reverend mother, when you looked down you saw her swollen pregnant belly.

'I warned you.' her voice rang inside your head. 'To don't regret it.'

You shook your head slightly, but she didn't say anything else. Paul said something in Chakobsa and everyone started to leave the room, except for you.

Paul moved slightly towards you but didn't go very far, he stared at you a few times but didn't say anything.

"I thought you were dead." you spoke in a low voice.

"That's what you wanted, isn't it?" he replied in a hoarse voice, he didn't look anything like his younger brother.

"Paul..."

"Is it worth it?" he asked, raising his voice a little. "Are you happy now?"

"No. My mother is dead." you admitted, feeling your eyes moisten.

"That's good, she didn't see all the horrible things you did."

"Shut up." you practically begged. “This is your revenge, is that it?”

You didn't want the tears to flow, so you blinked your eyes quickly, looking away.

"Our father would be ashamed of you. Your mother would be ashamed of you." he growled angrily.

"They are dead, the dead feel nothing."

He took threatening steps closer to you and grabbed your hair, pulling your head back.

"Patricide is a sin that no one forgives." he continued speaking angrily. "I want to kill you with my own hands, but I don't want to be like you, and death is not enough for someone like you."

You remained silent, trying to take your hair out of his hands, looking into his extremely blue eyes.

"Let me go." you tried to push him away.

"You don't deserve anything."

"I love you." you say weakly, cupping the side of his face with one hand. "I love you, Paul."

"Liar."

"Paul, brother, please." you sob. "I love you."

"Liar, you liar." he slightly loosens his grip on your scalp.

You manage to get close enough to hug him, your body was shaking with sobs, Paul's was shaking.

"I love you, you know." you repeated as you felt suffocated by the growing cries.

"You ruined everything." he whispered.

You held Paul against you for a few more minutes before he started to push you, you tried to hold him back but he managed to push you away.

"You will be sent to Salusa Secundus where you will remain in exile until you are tried for your crimes." he spoke firmly, swallowing hard.

Two Fremen men dragged out. You didn't scream, you knew you had no right to scream.

#writing #writers on tumblr #dune fanfiction #paul atreides x reader #paul x you #paul atreides x platonic!reader #emperor paul atreides #platonic #angst #angst with a sad ending #dune fanfic #dune fic #dune part 2 #dune movie #dune part two

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