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kpopnstarwars · 25 days

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Atonement: Feyd-Rautha x Reader

A/N: fic i wrote with @triluvial 's lovely idea

tw: 18+, smut but pretty soft, oral (f recieving), so so so so much angst, fluff after tho dw, swearing, hints of sa and pedophilia from the baron, baron is also creepy to reader but not explicitly, u gotta bear with my yapping in the beginning but it gets good i promise, inkpie

wc: 3.9k

headcanons for this universe

When you married Feyd-Rautha, you were warned of many things. His cruelty, both in and out of the bedroom, his bloodlust, his uncontrollable rage, his violence, his complete and utter lack of mercy. They told you he was psychotic, he was a cold blooded murderer, he was insatiable and that you’d be lucky to last a year with him, and yet, they never cautioned you of his sheer, unerring indifference.

Before your marriage, you fancied that he’d be like fire; raging, searing to touch. You went as far as to wish to tame his inferno. Late at night, when you could not sleep and doubt wreathed your thoughts, you also considered that he’d be like ice, like the colour of his piercing eyes, glacial and cold, devoid of anything soft or sweet.

As a child, you saw him fight in the arena. There he blazed with passion, his victor’s smile a cruel curve upon his face, his knife blade stained dark with fresh blood: he was mesmerising. At that time you were beginning to understand that your future had been sold to this violent man, and you resented your parents for it - now you realise that it went deeper than that, that it was rooted in generations of religion, of whisperings of the Bene Gesserit. Still, even then, you found the way he burned intriguing, and you were drawn to him like a moth to a flame.

But you were wrong. He turned out to be neither fire nor ice, just stingingly, dismissively apathetic. His eyes slide right over you when he happens to pass you in the corridors, as if you’re lower than a servant, lower than the rare rats that survive Giedi Prime’s conditions. You suspected your marriage would be painful, wedded to a man such as he was, but you didn’t think it would be this damn lonely.

You wished he hated you.

That way, at least you’d mean something to your husband. At least then vehement, savage emotion would rise within his gaze whenever he looked at you, not that horrible, polarising blankness. You wish you disgusted him, because then he’d at least he’d speak his mind - you had learnt that he spoke with brutal honesty, uncaring of the consequences.

Maybe to him, that’s all you are. A consequence of being high born, of being the na-Baron. You mean nothing to him, and he treats you as such; to him, you are less than the speck of dust on the floor, less than a grain of sand in his beloved arena.

It’s not that you wish for him to dote on you, nor love you or devote himself to you. You just wish he would look you in the eye and feel something; you’d rather him stare at you in revulsion and call you names that you can’t even think up yourself than the dead, lifeless detachment that clouds his face when he sees you in your shared chambers.

Feyd-Rautha has never laid a hand on you in violence; in fact he rarely touches you at all. The last, and only time he kissed was during the wedding day, and he makes no moves to be in bodily contact with you any more than he has to be. You are obliged to produce an heir from him, yet even in these infrequent encounters it seems as if it is a chore for him - he takes no pleasure in your body nor does he try to pleasure you, and he makes no sound when he takes you, staying as long as it takes for his seed to fill your womb before leaving without a word. On those nights, your thighs tremble as you stumble to the bathroom, only allowing your tears to fall once the shower water is searing on your skin.

During the first month of your marriage, you did everything in your power to please him. You thought maybe you weren’t pretty enough for him, maybe you were not desirable as a wife, so you always smiled at him, made an effort to fill the silence that pervaded the air around him, bringing up topics you knew he would enjoy, like the arena, like his love for knives and duels. To even that he would not reply, rebutting your questions with monosyllables or simply ignoring you. You stopped once he began to leave the room while you were mid sentence.

It is now your fourth month locked in this marriage with an uncaring man, and all you feel is bleak, crushing resignation. Somehow, Feyd-Rautha seems to take more interest in conversing with his brother than you.

You wonder if he has forgotten your name. He addresses you simply as ‘wife’ - that, and nothing more, the title leaving his lips like an accusatory curse, reminding you that if you did not serve a purpose to him, and if decorum did not restrain him, he’d have disposed of you by now, either by slitting your throat or simply abandoning you outside the palace grounds, not even bothering to end you himself.

The palace in question is lonely, but you feel the loneliest when you lay awake at night, shivering on your side of the bed as Feyd-Rautha slumbers to your right. Tears always prick your eyes during those moments, but you stifle them, afraid that you’ll rouse him with your crying; you do not know what you’ve done to garner his mistrust, but many times you’ve glimpsed the knife he keeps beneath his pillow, the cold blade glinting in the moonlight.

Often you wonder if he has a secret lover, and that is why he does not bother with you. You wake up sometimes and he is gone, but soon you realised that he would visit his concubines, especially after he had bred you. You would finish your shower, unable to wash off the feel that you were dirty, you were just an animal, a mindless thing to produce an heir for him, and he would be lounging in the antechambers of your quarters, ignoring your presence with the three harpies wrapped around him, whispering in his ears and caressing his moonlight skin. They accompanied him everywhere he wished, even in public, and to begin with, you felt humiliated that he would so explicitly show that you were not to his satisfaction.

Now, it just makes the solitude even worse.

You find solace in no one. More than once, you have walked in on the servants laughing behind your back, and as it became evident your husband was uninterested in you, they did not hide their mocking. The Baron’s other nephew you hardly saw, and the Baron himself terrified you: there was something in the way that he stared at you, his beady eyes glittering from where they were set deep within his putrid flesh, that made you feel more soiled than even after Feyd-Rautha took you.

So you remain isolated, speaking only when spoken to, drifting through the palace’s wide, dark hallways like a ghoul, a mourning spectre. You can barely remember your life before, just wisps and fleeting flashes of colour that ridicule rather than comfort you.

To Feyd, it is obvious who you are. A spy, commanded by his uncle to report every single one of his doings to you; he cannot slip up once around you, cannot reveal his weaknesses, that he is desperate to be loved, to be seen as someone whose only use is not war. He sees the way his uncle looks at you, hungry for information you do not have because he does not impart it, the way the Baron comments on you and the way you flinch at his words, pretending that you do not report to him.

Feyd is determined in his resolve to give nothing away. His uncle has held power over him since he was young, he refuses to give him even an inch over him now. He still has nightmares of it, which he wakes up from with his pale skin sheened in clammy sweat, clammy like the hands of his uncle.

Sometimes, he sees the tears in your eyes after he fucks you. The first time, he almost stopped, almost asked you where it hurt, but you turned away before he could, acting, always acting; acting when you smile graciously at him, acting when you ask him what his favourite type of blade is, what his favourite form of swordsmanship is. You are good at pretending, but of course you are - his uncle is the Baron, a man who bathes in power. No doubt he would get only the best of spies.

Tonight, you are not where you normally are. At this hour, you are usually asleep, or feigning it in the very least, curled up small on your side of the mattress, yet the bed is still made, the sheets unrumpled and smoothed down as they were this morning. Feyd thinks that maybe he might catch you reporting to his uncle, so he strides out of your shared chambers, pausing in the doorway to listen carefully; as a boy, he hunted in forests that have now been chopped down and industrialised, but he has maintained his keen ears long after the last wild plant on Giedi Prime’s surface choked on the fumes of pollution.

There’s a soft noise, barely perceptible, that echoes down the corridor to his right. Silently, he tracks it down the labyrinthine passages of the palace, servants scurrying out of his warpath, bowing their heads to him - he wonders if they too report to his uncle, if they travel now to his quarters to inform him of his beloved nephew’s whereabouts.

Feyd wishes he and Rabban were brothers first before rivals. Then he could have someone to rely on, someone who he trusted in this palace built on lies.

Pausing, Feyd cocks his head. You huddle in a crumpled heap at the end of the corridor, your knees hugged tightly to your chest, head low as if under a crushing weight. It occurs to him that maybe the Baron was displeased with your efforts to gain information and made it known to you - a pang of pity tugs at him, for he knows what his uncle’s wrath is like. At least you have been spared from the sole thing worse than that - the Baron’s thirst.

‘What are you doing, wife?’

Your head snaps up, Feyd-Rautha’s unfeeling voice kindling a rare burst of temper from you. Is it not evident to him what you are doing? Or is he just too blind to see the tears streaking down your cheeks? Your words are injected with venom when you speak, and you hope that it stings him for leaving you alone in this cold, dark place.

‘So now I am of concern to you?’

Feyd is taken aback by the indignant arch of your brows, the resentment displayed in your eyes. It takes him a moment to register the harshness lacing your voice - you have never addressed him in this way - and another to digest your words. There’s a bleakness in your wet, tear stained face as you stare up at him, and shock too, as if you did not expect yourself to speak against him this way.

Something clicks into place.

Feyd recognises that look in your eyes. He recognises it, because he’s seen it in the mirror a hundred times before; haunted, harrowed, lonely. He remembers nights when he trembled beneath the cold sheets of his bed, when he was small enough that he felt like he was drowning in the black satin, his eyes wide as the fabric seemed to wend around his limbs, tying him there as he lay fearful of everyone, fearful that his uncle would summon him. Even young, he was so terribly aware of not knowing who he could trust and who would turn to the Baron, bearing information like knives to split open his childish skin and spill his guts on the freezing stone floor.

It broke him. He is barely a shell of a sentient being, repressed emotions wreathing like ghosts around his frame, his eyes hollow, his heart decaying. In his fear, he was blinded, and he pushed you to the place where he had been all those years ago, so terribly, terribly alone - you are stronger than him, for lasting this long.

Sharp, plunging, dread sinks in his stomach, weighs down his soul; he has done unspeakable things to you, treated you like a dog, like a whore - worse. How can you look at him without hatred in your eyes, spite?

Bile rises in his throat, his heart seized by a dark, burning anger. He has done this to you, he has slashed your skin and left you bleeding, and yet all you did was try to please him. In an effort to save himself, he trampled you under foot; in order to keep you out, he left you surrounded by shadows. Feyd has never hated himself so much, has never despised who he has become with this much furor.

Slowly, he crouches before you. Eyes wide, you shrink away, misreading the direction of his rage, flinching when he reaches out a hand. Pressing your back against the wall behind you, you turn your head away from him, fear causing tears to spill down your cheeks: he sees the way you will the stone to swallow you up, knows the feeling.

‘Please don’t hurt me,’ you choke out, hands trembling uncontrollably.

Something deep within Feyd’s soul withers and dies at your words. Forcing his jaw to unclench, his hands to release the fists they held, he shoves down his anger. The fury is for later, for when he has made things right - for now it is you that is his priority. Too late, a voice whispers in his ears, too late, too late, too late -

Gods, he deserves to burn at the fucking stake for this. He deserves eternal hell for this, he deserves worse. He is a fool: a blind, blundering fool, stuffed to the brim with paranoia and cynicism.

He sucks in a breath. ‘I will not hurt you. You have my word, whatever it is worth to you. I - I have made an irredeemable mistake, I - ’

After his first sentence, you have not heard him. Tears of relief soak your face, and you whisper needless apologies for them; it is an arrow through his heart that you fear him so - yet the pain is where it is due, justifiable for the way he has shamed you, belittled you.

‘May I - may I touch you, my wife?’

You do not know why you nod in reply of your husband’s strange request, but the moment you do, strong arms pull you into a solid chest, and a sob leaves you - he is so warm, warm enough to banish the seeping cold embedded in your bones, warm enough to let your sorrow flow anew, soaking his shirt as your hands bunch in its fabric, so that if he is cruel enough to leave you here, at least he will have to fight to do so. You have not been held in a long time.

Each of your shuddering sobs is a knife blade twisting in Feyd’s spirit. He lets the pain wash over him, clings to the way you burrow into his arms, a kind creature in the embrace of a monster. At one point, in the throes of your crying, you beat at his chest, telling him that you hate him, and he takes it with a bowed head, stroking your hair and holding you tighter once you exhaust yourself; this is only a fraction of his atonement.

You fall asleep in his arms. He carries you back to your quarters, and only once the door is closed behind him does he let his tears mingle with yours. Keeping you cradled to his chest like a child, he pours a glass of water for you to drink in the morning, knowing you will be dehydrated; he sets it on your bedside table before laying you down on the mattress.

You don’t let go of him, even in your sleep. His heart clenches, tight in his chest, and he drops a kiss in your hair before lying down beside you.

He believes he will love you, if you will let him.

Consciousness leaks slowly into your mind, and you blink, squinting through the beam of light that filters in through the curtains. From your months spent here, you’ve realised that Giedi Prime’s atmosphere is normally churned up with violent storms and choked with pollution, so this ray of sun that falls against your pillow, warming your face is far from unwanted - nor is the pale forearm tucked around your waist, firmly so, but not trapping you either.

Your husband’s chest fits snugly against your back, his breath warm and steady against your skin; his fingers splay out across your stomach, gentle, communicating so many things that were left unsaid. Vaguely, you remember falling asleep, nestled against his chest, tears drying on your cheeks.

When you roll over, you’re unsurprised that he’s already awake. With blue eyes softened by the sunlight, he regards you, fingers settled at the small of your waist. Something clouds his gaze, and he shifts, propping himself up on his elbows.

‘I owe you an explanation.’

You wait silently, unperturbed by the way he clenches his jaw. He vowed to you last night that he would not hurt you, and you trust that. Wordlessly, his lips open, then close, and you patiently watch him, far too well acquainted with how this man struggles to let down his guard - even now, you cannot read the twisting of his features, the way his eyes squint as he looks at you.

‘I - I thought you were a spy sent by my uncle,’ he finally confesses. ‘My uncle… when I was younger, he,’

Reaching out, you cup his jaw in your hand, running your thumb along his cheekbone until he relaxes. You see the battle in his eyes, to let go, to tell you the knowledge that he thinks you deserve, but you see with it the years of hurt, of solitude. Something hopeful, something beautiful blossoms within you - the realisation that this wounded beast before you is someone that you could grow to love; you want him to bare his scars to you, those that are long healed and those that still seep with blood.

‘All in good time, Feyd,’ you assure him quietly.

He sighs, touches his lips against your palm. ‘I am sorry, my wife.’

Slipping your hand down to grip his shoulder, you lean closer towards him so you can kiss him. An anguished sound leaves him, and you see clearly how he realises that he has wronged you, how it pains him, and yet how the taste of you awakens something tender within him - you marvel at it, that it has survived, buried within him for so long. Perhaps he will let you love him.

Feyd is neither forward nor insatiable in the way he kisses you. In fact, he pulls away first, moving to get up from the bed despite the way your hands grip his shoulders, and you almost doubt that he wants you before you glimpse the longing in his eyes that lingers before he pushes it down. You wonder if this man knows how to make love or if he just knows how to fuck, you wonder if he feels the same molten feeling in his stomach that you feel and that is why his movements are tinged with nerves as he gently escapes your grasp. It is clear to you: he does not want to scare you.

‘Must you go?’ You ask, tugging at his fingers.

He tilts his head. ‘I don’t know if you want me here, after what I have inflicted upon you.’

A streak of bravery takes ahold of you. ‘Please, Feyd, I want you.’

You delight at the fire that ignites in his eyes upon your words. He wastes no time in returning to your side, dropping a sweet tasting kiss to your lips before taking your chin in his hand, eyes searching yours as he sits between your thighs.

‘Tell me if you want to stop,’ he says. ‘Yes?’

‘Yes,’ you echo, blood heating your cheeks.

Feyd kisses you again, giving you time to rescind your reply if you want, but you just tug at the hem of his shirt, drinking in his sculpted chest when he pulls the black cloth over his head. Delicately, he trails his lips down your skin as he undresses you, his broad hands warm where they encircle your waist, holding you flush to him as his calloused palms explore your body, skimming over your spine and caressing your breasts before settling on your thighs and pulling them open.

You’re terribly aware of how wet you are when his eyes settle on your pussy. Instinctively, your knees tip inwards, your face growing hot at the hunger in his gaze, but his broad shoulders block your legs from closing, followed closely by his hands which gently push them back open. He smiles at the blush high on your cheeks, rubbing his thumb over your ankle in order to put you at ease.

The sound you make when he pushes his fingers into your cunt and curls them almost makes Feyd moan. You tremble for him, bashful, and he can feel himself rock hard against the mattress, aching for the tight clamp of your velvet walls. He wants to bury himself between your thighs, and so he does, your sweet slick exquisite on his tongue - he presses kisses like butterflies to your thighs, your hips, worshipping you as his fingers pump in and out of you to the same pace as your heaving chest.

You look beautiful, gilded by the sunlight, lower lip trapped between your teeth, but he doesn’t miss the way you grip the sheets with one hand, the other clapped over your mouth, panting as he pleases you. Stroking your thigh, he pauses, licking your slick off his lips.

‘Let me hear you,’ he bids.

You blush again but obey him, tremors wracking your body as he sucks on your clit, laving his tongue over it until you throw your head back, eyes rolling as you come, your honeyed moans and hot release exquisite upon his senses. He wants more, needs more of the taste of you, but you tug at his shoulders, whining for his cock, and he’d rather die than deny you.

The way you say his name when he buries himself inside you sets his soul on fire. You look beautiful beneath him, shaking and whimpering from the hot pulse of his length, clawing at his shoulders until he wears red marks that he’s proud to bear, moaning into his mouth when he kisses you. It seems you cannot get enough of him, and Feyd is more than fine with that because he finds himself addicted to the feel of you under his hands, begging him for more.

Feyd remains entranced long after he comes inside you, with you, your cunt spasming around him. You draw close to him, intertwining your legs with his as he kisses your face, your neck, your chest, making sure he has not hurt you, making sure you are sated. Curling your fingers under his jaw, stopping him, you look him in the eye and smile before kissing him, and he finds himself mesmerised again by you.

He is certain you will let him love you. He is yours.

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0bticeo · 7 days

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lurk | feyd rautha

part four of five. (part 1.) (part 2.) (part 3.)

summary:

“i need you,” he rasps, etching a molten kiss on the dip of your collarbone. “need to get rid of his taste.”

his hand crawls up your thighs, the folds of your velvet dress gliding against your skin. you can still hear the soldiers outside, feel the low thrum of their clamour in your very bones. should you focus, you’ll perceive the baron’s suspensors sucking away at gravity, the servants’ roaming about, feet like neelde-ants on cold marble.

anyone could catch you.

“what are you waiting for, my lord na-baron?”

wc: 1.6k

tw: political machinations, reader being inches away from killing everyone in the damn place including feyd, kissing, biting, mentions of breeding, possessive & needy feyd, sub!feyd, oral (fem receiving), fingering, hallway sex.

you’re getting tired of dreams.

there’s terrible, terrible purpose dripping from their edges. you see it all - snapshots of horror, fractals reflecting endless bodies dropping to the ground. sixty one billion people, dead. ten thousand worlds burning, the universe begging for respite under your brother’s crushing fist.

paul. little mouse, whom you’ve shielded all your life, whom you’ve sparred with, crysknife pressed against his throat, his shield a feeble protection against your blade. something shatters. blades. so many of them. your blade. jamis’ blade. feyd-rautha’s blade.

your dream has you standing in what you know to be the emperor’s ship, shrouded in bene gesserit veils. two silhouettes stand against the bleeding sun of arrakis.

the realisation embeds itself in your mind, marble-carved. fate is looking down upon you and tells you: one of them dies in the end.

when you wake up, there’s a scream dying on your tongue.

you don’t know where you are. you don’t know where you are, why your side is on fire, why you taste blood in your mouth.

slowly, you rise, heart beating furiously, breath laboured. i must not fear. your fingers dig your sheets. the infirmary. fear is the mind killer. you close your eyes, will yourself to breathe. fear is the little-death that brings total -

a hand settles over yours, bone pale fingers weaving with yours. warmth settles on your shoulder. you relax, ever so slightly, leaning into the touch, burying yourself in the crook of feyd-rautha’s neck. he’s all sharp edges, honed to deadly perfection. in the quiet midnight of geidi prime, he softens for you.

“what troubles you?”

you wonder if you should tell him. of the golden path, paved with blood, so much blood it clings to the soles of your feet, you see it rise, rise, eager to seize you-

a low mumble of your name.

“dreams are messages from the deep,” you whisper in the crook of his neck.

his hold tightens over you, brings you closer to the warmth of him, thumb running over the smooth skin of your belly, over your unborn child growing there. from your position, you can feel it, the way his vocal cords vibrate. he’s purring, soothing you bit by bit.

you tilt your head, hand coming to cradle his face, knuckles brushing against his cheek.

“i should be plotting your death.”

a low chuckle, a flash of almost eagerness in his eyes.

“i don’t doubt you will.”

his hand wraps around your neck, resting on the soft skin of your throat, bringing you closer to him, shifting your bodies until you’re straddling him, arms wrapping around his neck. you could strangle him. you could use the voice. ask him to take the knife you know rests on the bedside and slit his own throat like the harkonnen beast he is. use it yourself.

but you’ve sealed your fate the moment you stepped on arrakis. so instead, you let the darkness swallow your confession.

“i don’t want you to die.”

“i won't,” he mumbles against your lips, words like an oath as he kisses you.

they say the beat of a butterfly wing can cause a tempest on the other side of the globe. you wonder what tempest will be borne out of the fury beating in your chest. here goes: morning comes. the spice rules it all, even the baron’s affairs, so he gathers his troops to make a planetary governor out of feyd-rautha.

the glorious sun of geidi prime shines its lifeless light upon you all.

the finest harkonnen soldiers, ruthless hounds barking their sovereign’s name in fervent adoration, thousands upon thousands of ants stretching as far as you can see. they corrupt it all the harkonnen, eating away at the horizon. waiting.

you’re waiting, too, hands folded before you, lone silhouette clad in dark robes, veils like a mask before your face. bene gesserit, the court calls you.

not quite.

by bearing feyd-rautha a child, you’ve gained a modicum of respite. the bene gesserit will spare you, the mother of their precious kwisatz haderach. they will keep your survival a secret and bury it behind inscrutable eyes.

plans within plans within plans. you’re a pawn in the baron’s meaty hands, he’s a pawn in yours, and the bene gesserit have been pulling the strings for ninety generations.

your gaze flits to the scene before you. feyd-rautha harkonnen, clad in dark leathers, silver embroidery like pauldrons over his shoulders. the mass of his uncle hovers above him, a hovering beast eager for power. two meaty hands encompass his face - absolute disgust coils in your chest as you watch vladimir harkonnen kiss his nephew. he kisses back. a show of dominance.

the soldiers howl his name, earth trembling under the clamour. they salute, arms crossed over their heads, a living, breathing organism, synchronicity at its peak.

arrakis has a new ruler.

a hand clasps over your wrist, drags you away from the adoring masses, in the sweet darkness of the palace’s hallways. you’re pinned against the wall, and feyd-rautha looms before you, terrible hunger burning in his eyes. slowly, he lifts your veils, high enough to bare your mouth to him.

“my lord-”

you’re cut off by his lips on yours, eager, desperate, savouring you like fine arrakean spice-wine.

“i need you,” he rasps, etching a molten kiss on the dip of your collarbone. “need to get rid of his taste.”

anyone could catch you.

“what are you waiting for, my lord na-baron?”

he nips at your ear, grin sharper than his blade as he sinks to his knees. slowly, intimately, a shadow curling at his mistress’ feet. he unravels you, nails raking up your thighs, liquid desire burning in their path.

“eyes on me.”

your eyes snap open. oh, he’ll be the death of you, with the way his eyes freeze you in place, willing, begging for his touch. you shiver, a low, needy sound escaping you.

he grins, a flash of black teeth against the liquid darkness of your robes. shadows will swallow you whole - he will swallow you whole. already is, with the way he trails kisses up your thighs, teeth sinking in the meat of it until blood drips on your skin.

he’s lapping at it, hands wrapping around your leg, spreading you apart inch by precious inch until he fits the broad expanse of his shoulders in the space he’s carved for himself. he raises his head, leans his cheek against your thigh, nuzzling in its softness. there’s blood coating his lips, sweet like forbidden fruit, and an unquenchable fire in his eyes.

“exquisite,” he purrs, nail digging in the blossoming mark he’s left, until your hips seek his touch.

he puts his mouth to you. you bite your lip, hard, as you feel him tease you, tongue lapping at you like sweet pomegranate, skilled fingers coaxing pleas for more. the cold of his silver ring has you keening - you're melting against him.

it’s obscene, how the only sounds you can hear are the pleased moans of your lover, the squelching of your juices dripping down his face, his wrist. it’s too much, too fast - your nails dig into his nape, bringing him closer. fucker’s purring, hands digging in your hips. he’s making a feast out of you, and you’ve never seen prettier sight.

feyd-rautha, kneeling at your feet, a pretty, pretty blush dusting his cheeks, his soft mouth on your cunt, ruining you as he denies himself sweet release.

“feyd-”

a jolt - he’s just nipped your clit, and you’re falling apart with his name on your tongue, burning, melting in the pits of desire. you grow boneless, faltering on unsteady legs. he pulls you to him before you can fall, kissing you, moulding his devouring mouth to yours.

distantly, you register that he’s breathless, that he’s pressing you against him, that you can feel the dampness at the front of his pants.

his voice is a low, needy rasp.

“you taste divine, my dear.”

there’s a commotion. someone, somewhere, is calling. a servant. a feast is prepared. blasphemy - the baron is a beast, and he will not have his nephew leave without obscene amounts of food. good. it leaves room for you to plan - you’re running out of precious, precious time. there are too many variables for you to act alone, yet you are.

you’re sitting at feyd-rautha’s side at a banquet table. on you watch, a mockery of a bene gesserit, nails digging in your palm. there’s a knife before you, of course. the baron’s sitting at the head of the table, stuffing himself until he’s about to burst.

repulsive.

you could do it now. put an end to the harkonnen, avenge your family. plunge that knife in the baron’s throat and watch him die like an animal.

but revenge is best served cold. you remember princess irulan being seated in front of you. you remember the emperor at the head of the table. you remember his knife slicing through unknown poultry. a falcon. he’s doomed your family to death.

the emperor is old. paranoid. anybody would’ve seen that the atreides were far too loyal to even consider rebelling against him, rising influence or not. someone convinced him otherwise. the truthsayer, reverend mother gaius helen moriam.

you take a bite of your own meal and find it tasting like ash. the only dish you yearn for is revenge.

you want the baron dead. you want the emperor stripped of his power. you want to watch the split second of horrified realisation on the reverend mother's face.

you want them to burn, and burn they will.

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

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clooyd · 7 days

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Tear You Apart | Feyd-Rautha x f!Reader

A soldier - loyal to House Atreides - is taken as a prisoner of war by House Harkonnen. After besting the Na-Baron in the arena, you are given two options: become his concubine, or die.

Chapter 1 out now on AO3!

Chapter warnings: Depictions of violence, drugging

Fic Warnings: CNC/Dub-con, knifeplay, violence, drugging, eventual heavy smut

#feyd rautha #feyd rautha x reader #feyd x reader #ao3 #dune 2 #bald freak supremacy #fanfiction #writing #this is so self indulgent

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yzuposts · 17 days

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he Feyd on my Rautha till I Harkonnen

#dune #dune part two #paul atreides #dune part 2 #dune memes #feyd rautha #dune 2 #meme #feyd rautha harkonnen #haha #funny #text #text post #bald freak supremacy #I’m not sorry

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lepidoptera-art · 3 years

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~Feyd Rautha~ An art trade I did with the lovely artist @bandaidfingers earlier this year! One of the first big pieces I made on my iPad in Procreate. Website ⚘ Insta ⚘ Patreon ⚘ Gumroad

#dune #feyd rautha #sting codpiece tribute #mullet feyd supremacy #frank herbert #house harkonnen #dunemovie #duneart #art #digital drawing #digital art #procreate #fantasy #scifi #illustration #ipadart #fantasy art #fanart #dune fanart

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kasagia · 27 days

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Right hand

Pairing: Na-Baron Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x fem!exBeneGesserit! reader Summary: You were his right-hand (wo)man after he saw you in combat during your training on the Bene Gesserit. He freed you from them and turned you from a Bene Gesserit into a faithful soldier who took care of all his dirty business. Getting rid of the bodies of the people he killed, organising opponents for him to fight, poor people on whom he could vent his anger and desire for bloodshed, or even concubines. You were his eyes and ears in the baron's court. You reported everything to him, being more effective than any Bene Gesserit. But he wants more... much more. Warning: 18+; violence; blood; Feyd Rautha; death; fight; brutality; smut; bathing together; dagger play; breeding kink? I guess; a lot things happening; my first time for Feyd so I'm a little nervous😅; enjoy!; Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen's Masterlist ~•♤♤♤•~ Main Masterlist

It wasn't your choice to undergo Bene Gesserit training. Your mother abandoned you when you were a little baby and took you to these terrible women, leaving you to their mercy.

You hated them. Their entire organisation, which included planned breeding, aimed at creating the Kwisatz Haderach. To you, these women were a sick cult that you were reluctant to be a part of. You trembled with fear, thinking of the day when they would send you to extend the genetic line of a nobel family by lending your womb or to ensure that their plans succeeded.

However, you realised that you had little say in the matter. The Bene Gesserit would find you anywhere if you tried to run and hide. You were doomed to follow the orders of your crazy old reverend mother and wait in fear for the day when you could prove your usefulness.

But one day, you crossed paths with Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen. And for a very long time, you considered it a real gift from fate. The first happy turn of events in your tragic life.

He was on a diplomatic mission. He was being shown around by the princess of your planet, and they happened to be attending the training of the Bene Gesserit sisters. You immediately caught his attention. Your movements were smoother, full of the passion of a true warrior. You charmed him so much that, at first, he thought you had put a spell on him. After seeing your potential and your obvious dislike for your sisters, he took you with him to Giedi Prime.

He faked your death so the Bene Gesserit sisters wouldn't come looking for you. He made you his right hand, his most trusted soldier. It was only after years of service under the Na-Baron that you realised that you had entered a much worse hell than any plans the Bene Gesserit had for you.

Feyd Rautha was supposed to be your personal devil. But first, you saw him as your saviour.

An animalistic, bloodthirsty scream resounds throughout the na-baron's private training room as his 'toy' falls dead under the blow she received from the furious man. You enter the room just as Feyd pierces him with his sword, causing drops of blood to land on your face.

You wipe them away, undeterred by the na-baron's brutality. Years of service had accustomed you to all the acts of cruelty he was capable of. At least this time, the dead man's entrails didn't spill around him. You hated calling his harpies to the feast. Despite so many years spent at the side of the baron's favourite nephew, you never got used to his concubines. They made you feel strangely uneasy.

"My lord, na-baron." You say, announcing your presence. Feyd breathes heavily and shifts his mad, furious gaze to you, not noticing your entrance until you speak.

You walk past the body, avoiding the pool of blood, and hand him a towel. He takes it from you without a word, wiping the sweat and blood from his head, chest, and back. You ignore his exposed muscles and kneel next to the man on whom he took out his anger, preparing to carry him out of the room before the next opponent/toy shows up.

"You were right. That old fool entrusted Arrakis to my brother. He will embarrass our family in one day. Ha! Even half is enough for him! This wretch doesn't know how to manage a small province, let alone an entire planet with fremen ready to attack at any corner." He says, rubbing himself furiously. He throws a towel into the corner of the room and walks to the table to pour himself something to drink.

"He gives him a chance to prove himself. When he wastes it, you will get it and prove to the baron and the lords that you are rightfully entitled to the title of baron." You say, securing the body so the guards at the door can carry it out.

"Every fool knows that. It's obvious that I'm a better choice than this scoundrel, who will sell the secrets of our family and swear allegiance to anyone who threatens his life. Baron throws a party in his honor. To the success of his mission. He's just doing it to piss me off. He doesn't give a damn about Rabban or whether he succeeds. This is just another of his tests on me. That's why you're coming with me. I've already sent for a dress for you." You look up at him with your surprised gaze. You're even more shocked when he reaches out his hand to help you up—something you didn't expect from him in his white, burning rage state.

"A dress?" You ask, taking his hand. You hold your breath, keeping yourself from gasping, as he lifts you off the floor with one strong pull. Unprepared, you bump completely onto his chest, not being able to keep your balance.

You freeze at the feeling of his muscled body close to yours. You can feel his heart pounding in his chest from the adrenaline he felt while killing this poor man. You tense up, seeing his icy-blue eyes already staring at yours. He starts giggling darkly as he presses you tighter against him so you can feel every muscle of his.

"Is there a problem? Would you prefer to come naked? I wouldn't mind, but…”

"I'm simply surprised that you want me there officially. I usually sneak there. I watch from the shadows. Well, you know." You interrupt me before he can insinuate anything, and with his silent permission, you move a decent distance away from him, leaving his arms.

You always had to be careful when making moves like this. You saw how he punished for minor offences, just for breathing. And you didn't run away from the Bene Gesserit with him to lose your life because of one of his… impulses. Although he has never put you in any serious danger, which was strangly amazing, since all of the servants who worked for him (and are still alive) have experienced his wrath on their bodies at least once.

"I know. But this time, I need you by my side. Not in hiding. My birthday is coming up—the most important of them all. I want to know what my uncle will come up with. Maybe you can find out something from the Lords. Besides, why wouldn't I want to have such beauty on my arm?"

"You want a woman by your side so you can humiliate your brother before he leaves? Perpetuate in him a sense of belief that you are superior, even if you don't have power over Arrakis right now?"

You see his hands tighten on his blades. You purse your lips, realising you were too quick to question his intentions. Basic mistake. You shouldn't have tested the waters when you knew Feyd was already on the end of his patience.

He takes a step towards you, entering your personal space. You swallow and lift your head to meet his gaze. This wasn't the first time he had intimidated you, tested you, carefully gauged your reaction, and waited until he finally saw the fear in your eyes. But you never gave him that satisfaction. If the Bene Gesserit taught you anything, it was that fear was weakness. A weakness you could tame... at least enough not to show it to anyone else.

So you endure his piercing, burning gaze with indifference. You stay like that even after a small smirk starts to appear on his face. You wonder how many people before you saw that smirk and stared into those night-black eyes on Giedi Prime as they passed from this world.

"That pink little tongue of yours will get you into trouble one day, my little witch." He purrs, his tone low and dangerous. He reaches up to your face with his free hand and gently runs his hand through your hair, caressing your cheek and jaw with the pad of his thumb. "Possible. I'm a na-baron... don't I deserve the best?" He looks defiantly at you, throwing you the proverbial gauntlet. He's waiting for you to stumble. For open defiance of his order.

You don't understand why, but he's been acting like this more and more lately. He made ambiguous comments, carefully watching your reaction. It was something new—a change in his behaviour that you hadn't figured out the reason for yet. But you had too much on your mind to think about it any longer.

"I can prepare you a beautiful concubine perfect for Giedi Prime standards." You suggest at which he shakes his head, laughing hoarsely. He turns his back to you and pours himself another glass of water.

"It's not necessary. I want you. Go and get ready. I'll join you in two hours when I'm done here." He says just as the door opens to reveal the soldiers you called for to take the body away and who have brought him a new drugged opponent. Feyd licks his lips, flips the blade up, and catches it, making a little show before lunging at his toy.

"As you wish, my na-baron." You say before leaving him to get ready for the party. Another warrior's scream echoes off the walls of the chamber as Feyd unleashes his anger on him.

You scan the room carefully, standing with your glass against the wall in a more crowded part of the room. You try your best to blend in with the crowd, but with your hair down, it's not that easy. Even if you try to cover your hair, you can feel people's curious gazes on you. But the worst ones are the burning gazes of the lords on you, some of them too lustful to be able to feel comfortable.

If you could, you would hide in the shadows, as usual, and observe them without being the centre of attention. You felt like a monkey in a circus or an exotic animal at an exhibition. The cold hand on your shoulder reminds you why you can't do this. You turn around to once again meet the na-baron's intense gaze today.

"You look good." He says as his eyes carefully scan the black latex dress with cutouts on the sides that reach down to your hipbones. "But I don't remember having that metal corset disguised as armour and that ridiculous chain veil sent to you along with the dress."

"I almost mistook this rag for a nightgown. I had to wear something on it. They think I'm your whore anyway; we don't have to prove it to them." You respond to his taunt and turn towards him. He is wearing black, formal armour, which is perfect as an official outfit.

"Do you find it scandalous to be my whore, little witch? Maybe even disgusting?" You meet his gaze to roll your eyes at him, at which he chuckles, wrapping his arms around your waist. You don't like this closeness, but there's nothing you can do to push his hand off of you. You are in public. Such a gesture towards him would be equivalent to a death sentence.

"I see nothing... honourable or good in being anyone's whore, my na-baron." You say, gently moving away from him so as not to lean on him as much.

"Have you seen anything noteworthy?" He asks, unfazed by your trying to move away from him. He pulls you up, wrapping his arms around your waist tighter and making your back rest against his chest. His fingertips brush against the exposed skin, caressing your hipbone.

You frown, turning your head to look at him. He's never been so... clingy before. He always respected your personal space and never touched you. You blame it on his desire to tease his brother, who is staring at you intently from across the room, and you shift your gaze to the people present at the party.

"Several lords congratulated your brother. However, there are rumours and beliefs that he will not be up to the task. Some also believe that you will slit his throat before his ship leaves for Arrakis."

"This idea crossed my mind. If you hadn't brought this information to me earlier, you would probably have had to deal with making the public believe in his… tragic and sudden death from natural causes."

"Natural causes; I wish I could see that." You scoff, finishing your drink. You turn around, leaving his arms, and set your glass down on the table. When you turn to him again, he holds out his hand for you to take.

"You'll see if you don't entertain me. I'm bored, and looking at this smug idiot isn't helping my patience or my ability to restrain myself. Dance with me, my little witch."

"You're interrupting my work." You complain, taking his hand. He leads you to the dance floor and spins you around, pulling you tight against his chest. He holds you close to him, perfectly placing his steps and moving to the beat of the music. He is as fluid in dancing as he is in fighting. Flawless as always.

"I'm your work. You are my right hand; you meet all my needs. I don't think I need to remind you of that, do I?" He asks in challenge, taking your chin between his two fingers as he looks at you carefully. You only smile at him in a sweet, artificial way. He laughs, fully aware of how fake this act is, and drops your chin.

Over the years, you discovered that he liked it when you teased him and responded to his taunts with your own. Of course, only when no one could hear it, and not very often. He had a reputation to uphold. He couldn't afford for anyone to see his right-hand (wo)man mocking him. Unbeknownst to you, he found it adorable the way your eyes lit up whenever you did something mischievous.

"Of course not, my na-baron."

"Good." He nods at your words. He takes his eyes off you for a moment and focuses on something behind your shoulder. He leans down, his cheek brushing against yours. You shiver at the sudden closeness, his scent becoming more distinct as you inhale it wholeheartedly. It's captivating. Sweet. Intoxicating. Dangerous. Just like him. "Do you have your daggers?" His hot whisper reaches your ear. He's so close, you can almost feel his full lips brush against your earlobe.

"Yes, why?" You ask, perfectly masking the tremble in your voice. But you doubt whether you can hide from him how your heartbeat speeds up. You blame it on the adrenaline rush. Not fear caused by his proximity.

"It seems to me that you will soon have to prove to these imbeciles once again why I chose you to be my right-hand man." He explains as the song ends.

You feel him reluctantly release you from his embrace and take a step away from you. You turn around and see his brother walking towards you, his right hand following him, giving you a mischievous look and a lecherous, mocking smile when he sees your outfit. You straighten up, lifting your head proudly at the man in a similar position to yours. The difference between you was that you served the stronger Harkonnen. It would give you an inviolably higher position if, like them, you had a penis between your legs.

"Brother. You finally brought your pet to play with us." Rabban says, nodding to his brother. You feel a wave of disgust as his gaze lingers on you longer.

Feyd tenses, furious, as his brother's eyes are all on you. You wouldn't have noticed if his hand hadn't been on your hip bone a moment later, hiding some of your exposed skin from his brother's eyes. You wonder what his problem might be. After all, he chose this dress for you by himself.

"Be careful. She doesn't have a muzzle. I would prefer that no harm come to you before you go to Arrakis. She's got some pretty... sharp teeth." He says it condescendingly, pulling you closer to him. In a perfect world, you'd kick them both in the groin. Unfortunately, you don't have that luxury. You can only imagine putting these two pseudo-alpha males in their place. But how sweet these dreams are...

"What about a small competition? My man against yours? Let's see what this mysterious beauty that you keep hidden can really do." Rabban's right-hand man gives you a cocky, confident look. He plays with the dagger in his hand, making a poor show that was intended to intimidate you. You roll your eyes behind your metal chain veil and shift your gaze to Feyd. You are only subject to his orders. Not some weak, pathetic creatures.

"This party is already dead. Do you want to kill also YOUR pet?" Feyd mocks him, and you almost break your unflappable, emotionless attitude, barely holding back your laughter. Na-baron sees this and smiles to himself, rubbing circles with the pad of his thumb on your hipbone.

"Are you afraid that she won't heat your bed anymore?" Feyd narrows his eyes at him. You feel his fingertips dig painfully into your hip as he tries to keep himself from lunging at his brother with the blade. You know full well that the eyes of the lords, the baron, and most of the people at the party are turned towards you.

"I have no doubt whatsoever about the outcome of this little skirmish. She will just sweat unnecessarily. And I would rather have her in full strength tonight." He says it in a mocking tone, shifting his gaze towards you. He licks his lips and tightens his grip to make his lewd intentions towards you clear to the two men.

Despite his famous reputation, he never touched you. Giedi Prime society might have thought otherwise, but in the years you had served as his right-hand man, he had never once taken you to bed or had you entertain him at night. You appreciated it immensely, which is why you accepted such behaviour from him without batting an eyelid whenever you were in public. It was all a game to maintain the reputation he had built over the years. Or so you thought.

"Feyd, boy, release your pet. Let her entertain us." The baron's words interrupt any skirmish that might have developed between the brothers.

It was not uncommon at Giedi Prime parties for soldiers to fight against each other to entertain the crowd. You just didn't think that you would have to fight someone during your first official arrival at the party. Although you should have anticipated such an unexpected turn of events. The baron and Rabban would not miss the opportunity to find out how much you were really worth and why Feyd, out of all the talented soldiers, chose the Bene Gesserit as his right-hand man.

You send a quick glance at Feyd. He gives you a small nod, so you bow to the baron and prepare to fight. The crowd around you parts to form a circle. You feel people's excitement as you flip the metal chains from your face to your hair, revealing more of your face. You wrap the shawl around your hair, tying it tighter and making sure it won't get in the way of your fight.

You look at your opponent, who is also preparing, trying to spot any of his weak points before the fight even begins. Rabban says something in his ear, which causes the manly smile to grow. Feyd stands in front of you, blocking your view of them. You look into his steel blue eyes as he leans towards you.

"Don't hold back." He whispers in your ear, handing you his blade. "And finish it quickly. We have other things to do."

You nod at him. He walks away from you, sending a mocking smirk at your opponent. He spreads his arms, taking a few steps back, as if inviting him to try his hand at you. You feel the burning gaze of his eyes on your back as you position yourself in front of the man.

"Don't worry, witch. If I win, I won't kill you. It's a shame to waste such a pretty face. I wonder if you're as good as the rumours say. Your pussy must be good to keep the na-baron entertained for so long." He says, waiting for you to activate your shield. But you don't do this. You want to completely humiliate him and give everyone in the room a clear message about your power and that you didn't secure your place just by having a pretty face. The crowd cheers, but you think you can hear Feyd growl furiously amidst the shouts of approval.

"I doubt you'll have the chance to find out." You say, and without waiting for his next words, you attack.

After the first few attacks, you figure out his tactics. He is physically strong, it's true, but that's his only advantage. It attacks you in a learned way, repeating its patterns. You read him quickly and position yourself to use his strength and mass against him. You could have walked up to him a long time ago and slit his throat, but you know it would be much better if you had some fun with him. You will show that you have complete control over the course of this fight.

You dodge the man's punches, and after a few minutes, you quickly get bored when you once again manage to kick him and send him to his knees. You take advantage of the moment he gets up from the floor to glance at your na-baron. Feyd doesn't look happy with your introduction. Of course, you see his interested look and how he appreciates your skills, but he doesn't look at you like he usually does. He doesn't wait with bated breath for your next move, like the crowd around you does. You can tell from his face that he wants you to finish this as soon as possible. You frown, surprised that he of all people doesn't enjoy watching the fight. You wonder what the hell is wrong with him.

Your moment of inattention is, of course, immediately exploited by your opponent. You manage to fend off the man's blade, but not his kick, which sends you landing on your butt on the floor. You feel rage more than pain; you only see red when you hear the cocky laugh of the man you are fighting with. You're so focused on driving the blade into his body that you don't notice Feyd's angry look, the murder in his eyes, and the desire to rip your opponent apart with his own hands as you fall to the floor. And you certainly don't see the trembling of his hand, as he instinctively wanted to grab you and pull you safely behind him.

You strike once, quickly driving the blade into the man's stomach and leaving it there. You push him to his knees, push away the hand that holds the sword, and reach for the dagger hidden in the sleeve of your dress. You strike a second time, piercing his shoulder. You stick the second dagger into his hand and knock the weapon out of his hand, taking it from him. You grab the man's throat in a tight grip and tilt his head back. You lean over him, a mocking smirk on your face as he struggles to breathe.

"I didn't even take off my high heels." You mocked him as you slit his throat.

You smile victoriously as you decapitate him. His head rolls at your feet, blood splattering your dress and face as you breathe heavily. You sigh, feeling your heart pound in your chest, as you bow to the crowd surrounding you as they shout and applaud you. Out of the corner of your eye, you see Rabban's sour, angry expression. You kick the head of his right hand towards him and give him a small smirk. You stand upright as you meet the eyes of your na-baron.

And then you saw it. Hunger in his eyes. Pure lust and desire, as his pupils were wide and solemnly focused on you.

You knew that gaze. He only looked like that at things he really wanted. Only his favourite concubines got THAT look from him or a beautiful, precisely made weapon that fit perfectly in his hands. Usually he had that look in his eyes right after the great battle he won. He would lock himself with his concubines and then spend long hours in his chambers, giving himself completely to his primal instincts.

You shiver as he walks towards you, ignoring anything else in the room. He grabs you tightly by the throat, and, to the delight of the drunken crowd who are screaming madly with excitement after the show you had made, he kisses you.

It is hard, hungry, and passionate. His hand completely removes the metal chains and shawl that were covering your head, and he pulls you to him as close as possible. His grip on your hair and throat is tight as he demands that your mouth be opened for him by biting your lower lip. You moan involuntarily, causing his tongue to slip into your mouth, as he is exploring new territory with a zeal you've never seen from him.

He pulls away from you when you're completely out of breath. Your vision is blurry, your heart is pounding from the adrenaline of the fight, and you can only stare at him stupidly and blankly while trying to understand what just happened.

Your eyes widen as he licks his lips, lust still burning in his eyes as he takes in your panting form and swollen, red lips. A trickle of blood drips from your mouth after he bit into it a few minutes ago. As you taste your blood on your tongue, you realise the terrifying truth.

Feyd Rautha Harkonnen desired you.

Feyd strokes your neck, which is still in his tight grip. His eyes travel from your lips to your neck, to your collarbones, to the valley of your breasts, and to your hips, which were starting to bruise from how tightly he held them in the moments before your fight. Suddenly, everything starts to fall into place for you. His strange, unusual behaviour, the flirtatious comments, the long stares, and his more frequent attempts to hold you close to him and touch your exposed skin are starting to make sense.

You were screwed.

Completely and utterly fucked up.

You've been avoiding him since that night. More than any Reverend Mother or Bene Gesserit. Which was a very difficult task, considering how many things you had to do as his right hand.

But, luckily, you managed to avoid being alone with him. Of course, it couldn't last long. You knew him very well, and you knew that eventually he would try something and come for you. But you tried to deceive yourself by living the lie that his desire would pass and his concubines would effectively take care of him.

If he noticed your attempts to stay away from him, he never mentioned it. Of course, he chased after you when he saw you walking alone down the hall, but you never gave him a chance to catch up with you. He may have grown up here, but you knew the palace like the back of your hand. And all the nooks and crannies you could hide in from him.

So you actually managed not to get close to him for a very long time. Until it was time to train a unit of soldiers directly subordinate to him.

"Y/N!!!" You're sure all of Giedi Prime could have heard his scream. You sigh, calming down as you continue your walk to the arena. You step out into the black sun, carefully watching the men training. You walk up to him and bow to him.

"My lord na-baron." You say it politely, unfazed by the fact that he's practically seething with rage. You were more used to dealing with him like this than when he was horny... or worse, kind. You would turn on your shield if you knew it wouldn't make him fall over the edge and start murdering everyone he could.

"Take your blade. None of these piles of useless muscles know basic defensive moves. Look, you all! You have to learn this by the end of the day, or next time you will enter this arena as my opponent!" He walks over to one of them, probably to either stab him or adjust his position, leaving you to get ready. You tie your hair up so it doesn't bother you during a fight and choose your blade.

You gasp in surprise when you are suddenly pushed. You turn around quickly, trying to keep your balance as you face the na-baron. You move your hand to activate your shield, but his voice stops you:

"Don't. I have to show them how to do it. No shield." You know he's lying, and that's not why he doesn't want you to turn on your shield, but you don't say anything. You just nod and prepare to get into a defensive position.

He attacks you quickly. Very quickly. You've trained with him before, and you have to admit, he's never been this… brutal with you.

You go through different positions with him until you finally stop following the textbook fighting patterns and start fighting seriously. You keep up with his movements for a long time, blocking his blade with yours and dodging attacks that you have no physical ability to block, but he keeps pressing against you, not letting you rest or trying to return the favour with one of your attacks.

You gasp in surprise when he trips you, sending you to the ground. You block his swing at you with your blade and kneel in the sand, trying to get up, but he's pressing too hard against you with his sword for you to move. You use all your strength to push him away from you. Feyd growls, throwing his sword aside, and simply lunges at you. You're too shocked to do anything as he snatches the blade from your hand and sits on top of you.

You fight him, sending both of you rolling in the sand. Eventually, he gets impatient and wraps his hand around your throat. You take a hoarse breath as he blocks your airway. You grab his hand around your neck and try to pull it away. You dig your nails into his palm, but he remains unmoved, pinning you to the sand.

He leans closer to you, and you take the opportunity to wrap your hand around his neck. He laughs, showing you his black teeth as he practically lays on top of you. His erection presses hard against your thigh as he grinds against you, grunting as he too begins to feel the need for air... and something more. You see black spots in front of your eyes, and you feel tears welling up in your eyes as you struggle to breathe.

You let go of his neck completely, your hand falling next to your head, and you desperately try to use the remaining air to try and use your Bene Gesserit voice on him. But before you try to say anything, he loosens his grip so you can breathe, but his fingers are still lightly holding your neck.

Too busy breathing, you don't notice how he tilts his face towards you. Only when you feel his tongue on your neck do you realise how close he is to you. You freeze when he runs his tongue from your neck, from jaw to cheek, to taste your tears. You hear him moan softly. To confirm that your brain, stunned by lack of oxygen, didn't make it all up on its own, he rubs against you, and his hardness in his pants is clearly felt by you.

You just fucking hope he doesn't fuck you in front of those soldiers.

You meet his black eyes with yours. You shiver as he leans in, his bare chest pressed completely against you as he whispers into your ear.

"Damn you, witch... if you taste as sweet as your tears..." He growls. You feel dizzy, and you're not sure if it's because of the heat of the moment, the fact that he cut you off from oxygen for a while, or because you're overwhelmed by his scent and the warmth that radiates from the two of you.

You thank whoever is above you as he finally pulls away from you and stands up. He gives you his hand and helps you stand on your two feet. The soldiers obediently look at the ground, not daring to face the na-baron's gaze. You swallow hard, pulling your hand from his grasp.

Feyd barks orders at them, herding them back to training. You breathe a sigh of relief when he stops paying attention to you. You use your shawl to wipe his saliva and your sweat from your neck. You take your blade and are about to leave the arena to do the rest of your duties. But a tight grip on your wrist stops you. You tense up and turn around to face him again.

"Y/N." He murmurs, watching you carefully. You're sure that bruises are starting to appear on your neck from his tight squeeze. "Come to my chambers tonight." A cold shiver runs through you, but all you can do is nod and watch his retreating figure as he leaves to continue the training.

You hoped he didn't mean what you thought he meant by that... invitation. Otherwise, this could be your last night on Giedi Prime or the last night of your life. You're not sure yet.

For the first time, you feel fear as you walk to his chambers. He had called for you at such times before, but it never occurred to you that he wanted to do with you something else than discuss with you matters that were related to the Giedi Prime Court, the baron's plans, or other political matters and plots.

You shudder, wondering what might be waiting behind that door. You saw the condition in which some of his concubines left him. You didn't want to become one of them; you didn't want to be reduced to being his lover. It was fine as it was. You felt very good as his shadow, ears, and eyes. You liked conspiring together with him, making plans, and that hrill each time you managed to take down the enemies that were standing in your way. He was supposed to be your savior, not your persecutor. Were you that naive from the beginning, or has everything started going to shit recently?

The guards let you through without saying a word. With your heart pounding, you enter his chambers.

He's sitting on the bed. His harpies finish taking off his clothes, and at first you want to back away, but as soon as his gaze meets yours, you freeze. Feyd snaps at one of them. She hands him a glass of his wine while the others look at you furiously.

"Leave." He tells them, never taking his eyes off you. The women look at each other, not wanting to leave him, especially leave him alone with you. You guess that if it weren't for Feyd's presence, they would have attacked you long ago, trying to eat you before their master got a chance to touch you. Disgust arouses in you as you think that you may be soon reduced to their role and turned into one of them. "I said something." He growls at them, shifting his gaze from you to give them an angry glare.

The harpies are going out obediently, but they are not wasting an opportunity to hiss at you as they pass you to get to the exit. You hear one of them scream in pain as Feyd suddenly throws a knife at them right before they close the door behind them.

You were more used to his brutal reflexes than to his tender gestures. You actually preferred him being aggressive more. At least you could have predicted his movement. That's why you didn't even blink when he threw a blade at his pets.

"You wanted to see me." You start when you are alone. If you could impress him with anything other than your fighting skills and the ability to obtain various information by staying in the shadows, it would be that you never showed fear or insecurity. At least not to those who don't know you. Almost no one could read you. Almost.

However, Feyd saw that you were behaving differently. But he was tired of controlling himself around you. He couldn't do it anymore after tasting your lips, tasting your skin mixed with tears, and feeling your curves press against him. He wanted more. Much more than he ever got from you. And he was going to take it, whether you wanted it or not. He won't go crazy with lust for you... or at least not with as much longing for you each night as he used to.

"I did..." He stands up, and you're grateful he's at least wearing underwear as he walks over to his bar and pours a second glass of wine. He hands it to you and taps it with his own. He takes a few sips and looks at you. After a while, he sits down on his bed again and swirls his glass, playing with the remains of the wine. "Baron wants me to find a wife." He announces calmly, staring at you intently as he finishes his wine with one big sip.

You almost choke on your drink. You place your glass on the table and meet the careful gaze of his cold, blue eyes. You feel yourself starting to get hot with nerves.

"I beg you pardon?" You ask, still reeling from the shock of this sudden information.

"He wants me to find a broodmare who will bear my heirs since I am getting close to the appropriate age." He repeats, standing up gracefully. He approaches you, his steps slow and measured, as if he were approaching his prey in an arena. And for a moment, that's exactly how you feel. But you show no fear or any other emotion as he stops a few inches in front of you. You straighten up, your muscles tensing as you think about any answer.

"I… I can make the necessary preparations and check which high families…"

"Strip." He orders you. His tone is hoarse, leaving no room for any objection. He talks just as if he were asking you to pass him the dagger rather than to stand naked in front of him. As if it was an order he carried out every day and something you should be used to following.

"What?" You ask stupidly, unable to process what he said to you in your head.

"Have you gone deaf? Undress. Take your clothes off." He repeats mockingly. He crosses his arms, takes a few steps back, and leans against the wooden post of his bed as he watches you carefully, waiting for you to either obey his order or openly disobey him, giving him the opportunity to punish you... as if he even needed a reason to do so.

"My na-baron, I..."

"Exactly, Y/N. I am your na-baron. So follow my order. Now. I'm not in the mood for our games. You think I haven't noticed you've been playing hide-and-seek lately? I have given much worse punishments for such disobedience and attempts at self-indulgence. Take your clothes off, or I'll rip them from you."

For a moment, there is a deathly silence in his chambers. Only your breathing can be heard as you try to find any way out of this situation. But you can't think of anything. Your mind is empty, your hands are shaking a little, and all you can do is look at him, silently begging him to change his mind. A frown of impatience appears on his forehead, and you know you have to do something before he gets irritated and cuts you with one of his blades.

You sigh softly as you reach for the laces of your shirt. You take your time, slowly untying your bindings. Feyd devours every bit of skin you expose to him, and you swear you hear him hold his breath as your shirt lands on the floor. You get out of your shoes and socks very slowly.

Luckily, he doesn't comment on it and lets you get out of his clothes at your own pace. He knows he will win anyway. Tonight, he will finally stop playing cat and mouse with you and put his hands on what is rightfully his. So he savours every moment, making a plan in his head for what he will do to you tonight for this small act of rebellion.

He licks his lips as you stand in front of him in nothing but black underwear. His eyes take in your every curve, skin lesions, and scars that mark your warrior body. Oh yes. He was going to enjoy this night and finally unwrap his early birthday present.

"Good girl. You know where the bathroom is, right?" Without waiting for your response, he goes there, expecting you to follow him.

You swallow hard. You're glad that at least you managed to stay in your underwear and that you're not completely naked in front of him. You get out of your pile of clothes and leisurely follow him to the bathroom.

As soon as you enter, the door closes itself behind you. You sigh, the sweet smell of bath salts reaching your nostrils. But you don't feel so relaxed when the coolness of the bathroom and the black marble you stand barefoot on make you shiver and your nipples harden.

The na-baron's dark chuckle catches your attention. He's in a large, black bathtub, his hands resting on its edges as he enjoys the warm water, watching you closely, a spark of amusement shining in his icy blue eyes. He looks like a vulture waiting for the best moment to kill his prey.

"It had been a long day. Join me." He says, lifting his hand for you to take and step into the tub.

Having no choice, you obediently reach for his hand and release it as quickly as you can, sitting on the other side of the bathtub with your legs tucked under you so as not to accidentally touch him. He laughs, shaking his head in amusement.

"Not so far, my little mouse. Closer. I won't bite… well, not yet."

"I'm not a mouse." You snap at him. If you're going to die, at least die with dignity. Blinded by your anger at him, you sit on his lap before you can think it through. It's only his hardness pressing against your ass that makes you realize what a mistake you've made. You don't show your discomfort, though; you even lean against his chest, letting your head rest on his shoulder.

He laughs softly, wrapping his arms around you just as the skin of your back meets his chest. You feel like you're in a cage, even though he's trying to calm you down by lazily drawing patterns on the skin of your arms. Your underwear soaks up the water and sticks to you, making you feel even more uncomfortable.

"Hand me my dagger."

You much prefer receiving such orders from him. You get up from the bathtub to get away from him for a moment, but he stops you by grabbing your hips tightly. He shakes his head and nods towards the dagger, which is literally at his fingertips. You bite your lip, keeping yourself from talking back at him, and reach for the weapon, handing it to him. You do this carefully, not wanting to cut the skin of your fingertips with the very sharp blade.

He cuts through the fabric of your bra with surgical grace. You gasp in outrage but don't move, knowing full well that you are only millimetres away from him taking your blood. You don't have to turn around to know he's smiling cockily as he traces the tip of his dagger across your skin to your panties.

"You know I can take it off by myself?" You ask as he traces patterns with the tip of his dagger on your stomach, around your navel. You hold your breath as he rests his chin on your shoulder and pulls you closer to him, rubbing against your still-clothed ass. You learn the hard way that the rumours about his... greatness were true.

"You had your chance at the beginning, now it's my turn. You're lucky that I'm not taking it off of you with my teeth anyway." He growls in your ear. You shiver as he presses a wet kiss on your shoulder, peppering kisses on your skin, down to your neck, and down to your jawbone before he rests his chin on your shoulder again.

"Sorry for interrupting your fun, my na-baron." You growl as he hooks the tip of his dagger against the fabric of your panties.

"No worries; you will compensate me in another way." He says, cutting your panties. He throws them behind him and lazily presses the dagger against your jawbone, forcing you to turn your head to look at him.

You meet his blue eyes with yours. His irises are practically non-existent, giving way entirely to his dilated, black pupils. He stares at you hungrily, licking his lips. He looks lost and indecisive, as if he didn't know what to do first.

His other hand, the one not holding the dagger pressed against your neck and jaw, explores your body, caressing your skin as if it were some kind of precious silk. You sigh as he cups your breast, which, of course, fits perfectly in his hand. You want to punch him in the face, but the dagger at your throat reminds you that one wrong move could cost you dearly. So you take his hand in yours instead, stopping him from over-exploring.

"You know... I tried to stay away from you. From the first moment I saw you... fighting with those daggers of yours... you're not as graceful in dancing as you are with them in your hands, taking down all your enemies. But you are Bene Gesserit. I know you're dangerous. So damn dangerous... if I were anyone else, you'd use your voice on me and tell me to castrate myself. Or you could make me magically disappear by throwing myself off some tall tower just because I thwarted your plans or looked at you wrong. Surprised? You may live in the shadows, my little witch, but I won't miss anything you do. You know I have trouble controlling myself... so how can I do that when you're so damn irresistible? The fact that I've endured all these years and not gotten close to you the way I wanted—the way I dreamed so many times at night—is quite a success, don't you think?"

He massages your breast, playing with it. You bite your lip, holding back a moan as he pinches your nipple. He leans closer to you, pressing his nose against your neck and inhaling your scent deeply. He removes his hand from your breast and moves your connected body along your body. You gasp, tightening your grip on his as he brushes your clit gently with his fingertip.

"I… I should go." You mumble, squirming in his grip, which is, of course, pointless and only makes him groan in pleasure as your ass rubs against his hard, leaking member.

"Stay. You won't oppose your na-baron, will you?" The bastard knows well that you won't openly oppose him, and he uses it as best he can. He moves your joined hands to his length, forcing you to wrap your hand around him. He hisses, pressing the blade closer to your throat and tightening his grip on your hand as he guides yours along his length the way he wants. "Your skin is so soft… and that beautiful hair that you needlessly hide… you don't know how many times I imagined pulling you by it." He mumbles into your neck. The hand with the dagger now presses against your chest, only causing your heart to beat much faster. A wave of heat washes over you, your traitorous pussy clenching desperately as you hear his moans in your ear.

"Feyd..." You moan as his hand releases yours and works at your desperate pussy. He growls, feeling the warmth of your walls around his fingers and the wetness he caused. You remove your hand from his member and tighten your grip on his hand, trying to push him away from your private parts in a desperate attempt to regain control of the situation.

"Don't fight. Just give yourself to me, Y/N. Let me show you how much you've lost while trying to hide yourself from me in your shadows…" He growls, pressing the tip of the dagger to your nipple. You freeze, moaning as he becomes stiffened by the sheer movement of his blade.

He bites into your neck, making you moan loudly and throwing your head back. He licks and sucks your neck, rubbing his painfully hard cock against your pussy. The water splashes around you, some of it spilling out of the tub due to his sudden movements. A few inches deeper, and he would have slammed into you, bisecting you with his huge cock, which stood ready for you from the moment he saw you in your underwear.

"Can you feel it? Can you feel what you're doing to me? How hard I am because of you? It's like this every time you hand me my blade, perfectly balanced and sharpened, every time you meet all my needs without even communicating with me, you just know what I want by looking at me, my little witch. So tell me, who is a better partner for me than my right hand? Who can I trust more than you? Who should I fuck, full of my heirs, if not you?"

You don't respond; you can't find any words as your brain desperately tries to shout out the pleasure he's giving you and force you to resist him. Unsuccessfully. The warmth of the water, his body, his scent, and his precise, deliberate movements cut off your thoughts. Feyd is practically salivating at the sight of you so lost in lust and desire as he witnesses you lose control for the first time.

He throws away the dagger, which falls with a crash onto the marble floor. Neither of you care as he grabs your hips and, in one smooth, quick movement, turns you around so you can face him.

You only have time to draw in a quick breath before he demands your mouth. You moan into his lips as he kisses you with the same passion and intensity as he did a few weeks ago at the party after you won the fight. You try to pull away from him, but he holds you tightly, placing his hands on your back as he presses you against him. You don't stand a chance against his strength. You can resist him, but you know it won't be long before you collapse from exhaustion. You bite his lip until you draw blood, which only causes him to groan and have him grind against you, the tip of his cock teasing your entrance.

You gasp as he leaves your lips for a while and pulls your hair, exposing your throat to him so he can mark it even more. He sucks on your skin, littering it with hickeys as you feel him slowly move, positioning himself beneath you so that his member presses against the entrance of your pussy.

And just as he's about to join your bodies, to make you two one, to feel your hot, wet, tight walls around him, there's a knock on the bathroom door.

This time, he's the one who freezes, tightening his hold on you. You feel like he's making sure he hasn't misheard or imagined it in this heated moment between you, but when the knocking sounds a second time, he realises it's real.

You pray with gratitude for the soul of the fool who dared to interrupt him, because you know that even if it were something important, he would not live to see the morning.

"What?!" He growls furiously, not letting you go, not letting you move an inch from him, still believing that he can quickly get rid of the intruder and go back to ravaging you, maybe even fucking you while he talks to whoever is standing in front of that damned door. Though Feyd preferred to be fully focused on you when he took you for the first time. However, he was convinced that if he didn't feel you around him soon, he would go crazy. He is so close... all he had to do was push a little more...

"My lord na-baron. The Baron wants to see you. It's very important."

You see pure rage bubbling in his eyes. He growls, shifting you from his lap as he stands up. You look down as you see all of him very clearly, especially what you were exposed to a few moments ago. He throws a towel at you, and you automatically catch it. He wraps one around his waist before he comes back to you again and grabs your throat. He gives you a crazy, passionate kiss, stroking your neck and appreciating the marks he made before pulling away from you.

"We'll come back to it, little witch." He leaves you with that promise, closing the door behind him with a bang.

You hear him shouting something at his harpies, and you shudder at the thought of having to walk past them to get out of here. You lean back against the tub, still sitting in the now-cold water, as you slowly process everything that happened.

You succeeded this time, but you know you won't be so lucky next time. You could either accept... your new responsibilities and his expectations of you, or you could try to break free from him, risking your life.

It was a decision to be made in the privacy of your own chambers. For now, you let yourself lie in the cool water, fully aware that if you weren't interrupted now, he would fuck you silly, likely planting his seed inside you.

You ran away from the Bene Gesserit with him because you didn't want to be a whore, a vessel for their crazy breeding plan. Apparently, you just changed the owner of your womb. You had to do something if you didn't want to end up as originally intended—as the mother of the future Kwisatz Haderach.

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kasagia · 20 days

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Right hand II

Pairing: Na-Baron Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x fem!exBeneGesserit! reader Summary: After you miraculously escaped from his arms the other night, you tried to stay away from him as best as you could. You have to put a lot of effort into escaping from the na-baron, who is tirelessly and constantly chasing you, or into avoiding another invitation to his chambers late at night. However, on Arrakis, the situation between you changes drastically... And you're losing control over your life, and it's not because of Feyd. Warning: 18+; violence; blood; Feyd Rautha; death; fight; brutality; smut; Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen's Masterlist ~•♤♤♤•~ Main Masterlist

You are standing in front of the window of the ship that is taking you to Arrakis. You nervously play with the edge of the shawl that covers your head. You don't have good memories of that planet. Before you escaped with Feyd, the Bene Gesserit sent several of their young apprentices to… train in the sands of Dune. Including you.

You still remember the screams of some of your companions who went crazy from a lack of water and decided to end their lives. And sometimes at night you dream that the sandworm swallows half of your group, leaving you practically on your own.

Arrakis didn't just kill your friends. It killed any belief in the Bene Gesserit in you, only confirming that you would rather die than be completely subject to them.

And now you're going back there with someone who had full control over your life again. It's funny how history likes to come full circle. And how, despite their repetition, people still fall for tricks and fall into fate's traps, acting in exactly the same way.

A cold hand on your bare shoulder snaps you out of your stupor. You act fully automatically,drawing the dagger attached to your belt and twisting the attacker's arm. You pin him to the wall, placing the blade against his pale neck. You freeze as your eyes meet Feyd's icy blue gaze.

"Good reflex. If you were anyone else, I'd kill you for this, but I'm in a particularly good mood today, so I won't punish you as I would like. What were you thinking about, my little witch, that you didn't hear me sneaking up on you? Or maybe I have finally surpassed the master?" He asks with a mocking smirk, showing off his black teeth. You snort, shaking your head at him.

"Keep dreaming." You say, taking advantage of his amusement. This time, you are not keeping your mouth shut for fear that he will deprive you of your tongue for your boldness towards him. You move away from him, which he takes with clear displeasure, and return to your place by the window.

"If I dream about you, I prefer to dream about something much more pleasant." He wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you into his chest. He slides your shawl off your head with his teeth and nuzzles his nose into your hair, inhaling your scent.

You feel him sigh deeply, leaning against you a little as he relaxes into your scent and closeness. You frown, but let him hold you because you feel calmer having him close to you. Despite everything that had happened in the past two weeks, you still found his presence reassuring. It didn't make any sense to you, but apparently, over the years, you had begun to involuntarily associate him with something akin to a safe shelter. Herkonnen. A psychopathic, bloodthirsty future baron. How ironic…

However, being in his arms helped you come to the conclusion that the demons of the past should remain in the past. And you should focus on the newest one that is now wrapped around you.

You stare at your reflection in the glass, shuddering as his scent surrounds you, mixed with the blood that stains his uniform. You wonder which soldier you will have to find a replacement for this time.

"What were you thinking about?" He whispers that he doesn't loosen his grip on you even for a moment, knowing full well that the moment he does, you'll wriggle out of his arms and find another excuse to leave him.

You checked the condition of engines and fuel 8 times. He started counting after the ship's captain complained to him about your constant presence. He beheaded him without giving him the opportunity to complete his complaint against you. Feyd smiles, remembering the irritated frown on your forehead when you had to clean up his mess. Of course he followed you then. Of course, 'just to make sure that the next captain you appoint will be more competent'.

"It doesn't matter." You sigh, resting your head on his shoulder. He would enjoy your submission and willing closeness if he didn't see that, by doing so, you only wanted to distract him from the main topic. Clever little witch you were…

"It must be important if you stopped paying attention to your surroundings. You are always alert and aware of the things that happen around you. No matter what. I remember how, during one of our escapades, you were the only one who didn't fall into the trap."

"Well, that one was actually obvious." You say it with a mocking smile, remembering how you had to save him and his soldiers.

For the rest of your life, you will never forget how you had to dig Baron Feyd-Rauth Harkonnen out of the mud and save his ass from the Assassins who planned his execution. Of course, he killed any witnesses, leaving only you and him alive. After all, his uncle and brother couldn't find out about it.

He growls in your ear, tightening his grip on you as a warning, when you make him replay that day in his head.

"Don't brag now. I was… busy observing something much more interesting than muddy swamps." He grumbles, burying his face in the crook of your neck. The warm air he exhales makes you shiver.

"Which was?" You ask shakily, placing your hands over his to stop him from roaming them over your body.

"You." His answer is short and simple, as if it were the most obvious thing you should know. He doesn't hide it anymore; he doesn't keep his desire to himself. He wants you. He craves you. He shows it to you so clearly and thoroughly that you laugh at how naive you were to believe that you had only a friendly, platonic relationship. But how could you not believe that he only saw you as a means to an end when he treated everyone else around him like that? Since he treats people like things to play with and break whenever he wants? How could you have predicted that you would become his obsession, a precious jewel in his collection that he would want to protect and have just for himself? "I'm asking for the last time. What were you thinking about, little witch?" He asks, wrapping his hand around your neck and forcing you to look into his eyes.

You have no escape from him now. And you certainly won't tell him that lately you've been thinking more and more often about how to run away from him, or what would happen if you stayed with the Bene Gesserit, or how your life would have looked if you escaped from them on your own. You wonder if it wouldn't have been better to bury yourself in the sands of Arrakis all those years ago with your friends and die there. You are sure that it would be a much more dignified death.

"I... I thought about Arrakis." You decide to respond safely and carefully, so as not to reveal too much to him. You didn't want him to become suspicious of you. Not when you had to handle him carefully, lest you fulfil any of the Bene Gesserit's sick plans and visions.

"So what about this? Are you scared?"

"No. I am not. I'm never afraid. Fear is the mindkiller. Fear is the little death that brings total obliteration." You repeat the mantra automatically without thinking much about it.

You flinch as you realise that you are answering quickly with the Bene Gesserit litany of fear, which they've made you learn by heart. A great deal of anger grows within you as you realise how much they have influenced your life, even so many years after you ran away from them.

"You're quite tense. More than when I usually hold you." He points this out, starting to gently stroke your back in an attempt to relax you. You give him an angry look instead, suddenly understanding why he was irritated with you for reading him and his emotions perfectly when he was the one who was flustered and furious.

It was always easier for you than for him to hit sensitive places or to read the other one like an open book. Apparently, you're not the only one who's learned this over the years. He knew you as well as the back of his hand. He just never showed any trace of concern for your well-being.

You had your… tender moments when you allowed yourselves to be vulnerable with each other once or twice, but you both treated them more as minor lapses in maintaining your impenetrable façade of indifference and neutrality. In the end, everyone is on their own. And looking for a friend in him was a completely stupid thing—an act of true naivety and a sign of self-destruction, maybe even masochism.

"Maybe you shouldn't hold me at all, then?" You growl at him furiously, unable to control yourself. He just frowns, more surprised by your behaviour than offended by this blatant act of disrespect. He had rarely seen you so nervous or furious.

Of the two of you, you were the one who was the most calm and composed. You were always able to hide all your emotions behind a mask of indifference. He's fascinated by how you really behave when you don't have a filter on. He often throws you off your balance only to see your cheeks flush with anger; you take out your anger in a fight (just like him); or you bite your lip to avoid saying something back to his taunts.

"Or maybe you should drop your attitude and just let me do it?" He asks, his lips brushing against your earlobe. He doesn't wait for your response; he simply catches the tip of your ear between his teeth. He bites in gently, sucking and caressing your skin with his lips, as if your ear's superior helix were the sweetest delicacy he could enjoy.

"I'm not fighting or trying to escape, am I?" You respond, enduring his treatment with dignity. At the ship's window, you can see a small smile appear on his lips at your words.

He decides to pull away from you, but he is not giving you even the smallest chance to run away from him. He presses you against the cold glass, entering your personal space even more than when he had you close against his chest. You lift your chin, looking at him defiantly as he puts his hands on your hips.

"You are not. But you also don't want to be here in my arms." He replies, cupping your chin with two fingers. He leans closer, making you feel the metallic scent of blood that still lingers on him, probably from his fight with some prisoners on the ship. "And I don't like it at all." He whispers hoarsely into your ear.

"Since when do you care what others want? I don't remember you spoiling your concubines like that." You snap, causing him to laugh mockingly and shaking his head in amusement.

He leans in, making you tense up slightly. You think he's doing it to kiss you, but instead of feeling his lips on yours, you feel his cheek brush against yours, and his lips blow hot air into your ear again as he whispers softly:

"Because they weren't you, Y/N." You shiver at the sound of his dark, hoarse whisper in your ear. You can't say you don't feel the effects of his... seduction. But you promised yourself long ago that you wouldn't be any man's whore, concubine, plaything, or broodmare. And certainly not HIS. No matter how... tempting he could be.

"And what is so special about me? Hm? My body? My appearance? That I can fight well? You would get bored of me. Like you did with all your concubines."

"Did they understand me like you do? Have you ever seen them look at me as anything other than a wild, bloodless beast in the heat?" He answers your angry questions with his, dismissing your attempt to start a verbal fight with him.

His thumb traces the line of your jaw, examining you closely. Looking into his light blue eyes makes you feel uncomfortable. He shouldn't have reacted to you like that. You weren't used to anything he had been doing these past few weeks. You preferred to fight him than... when he showed you so much tenderness, appreciation, and affection.

"Have I ever looked at you differently?" You ask defiantly. He smiles, licking his plump lips. You give in to this provocation, and, without controlling it at all, you move your gaze to his lips. His dark chuckle makes you look back into his eyes.

"Yes. Yes, you did that... you don't even know how often." He hums, his fingertips moving towards your mouth. He caresses your lips with incredible tenderness and delicacy. He presses on them gently, but you squeeze them as tight as you can, preventing him from doing anything he planned.

You react faster than him. You bite his wandering fingers, take advantage of the fact that he is still trying to process what has just happened, and quickly pull away from him. He laughs, shaking his head, looking at you intently as he deliberately crosses the distance between you two. He doesn't have to say anything for you to see how clearly he's mocking you and daring you to continue to defy him.

"We're not even on Arrakis yet, and you're already delusional, my na-Baron? Or maybe the black sun of Giedi Prime made you start seeing a mirage?"

"If you are a mirage or an illusion, then I never want to be sane again, my little witch." You gasp, as he wraps his arms around you tightly, clinging to you completely. He leans in, his nose tracing a line along your temple, inhaling your scent before burying his face in your hair.

He keeps a firm grip on your shoulders. You place your hands on his, trying to loosen his tight grasp somehow, but it only makes him hold you tighter. He tilts his head slightly and brushes his nose against yours.

You shiver, feeling how close he is and how his musky smell, mixed with a hint of metallic blood, surrounds you. He presses himself against you so tightly that there's practically no space left between your bodies. You close your eyes, letting out a small, shaky breath. And just as he's about to press his lips against yours, the metal door to the room slides open with a loud bang.

You jump away from him, grunting as a young recruit enters your field of vision.

“My lord na-Baron. Lady Y/N. We will land in fifteen minutes."

"We would rather notice it ourselves." Feyd growls at him. You see him reach for the hidden dagger. You walk over to him, resting your chest against his back, and grab his hand before he places it on his dagger and throws it at the poor man.

"Thank you, Oliver." You say with a smile. The man swallows in fear at Feyd's furious glare. He bows and leaves the two of you alone.

You step away from Feyd, letting go of his hand. You frown, seeing that he's even more furious than when one of the soldiers entered. You raise your eyebrow questioningly, not understanding why he's practically huffing in anger now.

"What?" You finally ask him, not understanding the reason behind his behaviour.

"Oliver... do you call all of them by their names?" He asks, spitting out the soldier's name in disgust. You sigh, rolling your eyes as you reach for the shawl he had thrown off you and put it back on your head.

"If I know them, then yes, why?"

"You've never called me anything other than my lord and na-baron." He speaks in an almost accusatory tone. It takes a lot of strength in you not to burst out laughing when you realize he's completely serious and not joking right now. You try to come up with some excuse, wondering how to safely answer his question.

"And you always call me your little witch." You answer. Using his name somehow never felt right to you. At first, out of respect for him, maybe even fear. After all, he saved you from the clutches of the Bene Gesserit. Calling him by his name was out of the question. With time, you did it out of habit. And now… now you didn't want to call him by anything else because you knew that it would be a small step on his way to make you his.

"So this is supposed to be our thing?" He asks with a challenging, teasing smile.

"We don't have a thing." You huff, walking towards the exit. He, of course, follows you faithfully. You can feel the excitement radiating from him. He was definitely planning something big to do on Arrakis. Something he didn't tell you. You just hoped that he would be too busy with his brother and securing the spice mine to take care of you at the same time.

"Don't we?"

"You should focus on what you tell your brother. You're finally taking the reins. Rabban won't give them to you that easily. And we need to establish a final plan of action on Arrakis." You say, returning to your matter-of-fact, cool tone. He smiles, nodding.

"Don't worry about that… I'll make him kiss our shoes." You snort, shaking your head in amusement at his words. It might be true, but it's still hard for you to imagine him actually putting this plan into action. As you'll see in a few minutes, he actually intended to do that. "And the plan was decided a long time ago. I told you I wouldn't let us split up. And not because I question your leadership skills or loyalty. You are the only competent and worthy person to lead half of my army. But we, little witch, work together. Always. You don't change something that works perfectly. Get ready. We're landing soon." He leaves you with a quick kiss on your temple.

He walks away from you with a sly smirk, as if he's managed to trick you. You sigh as you watch him walk out of sight, walking with a spring in his step towards his room, probably to grab his things and get his harpies ready to leave.

You look out the ship's window at Arrakis for the last time. You close your eyes, promising yourself that since the Bene Gesserit, Feyd Rautha, Giedi Prime, or the Harkonens hadn't killed you, this damn planet wouldn't do this either. You weren't the same Y/N from 10 years ago. You were more powerful. Your bones won't sink into the sands of this damn dune... you'd even rather become the mother of that Kwisatz Haderach.

You practically jump out of bed with your heart beating fast as you wake up from another nightmare. You sigh shakily, pressing your hand to your mouth, trying to calm your breathing as best as you can as your heart pounds frantically against your chest.

The screams of your companions echo in your ears, and the images of the Fremen pumping the water out of them replay in your head. And that damned sandworm...

“Y/N, look at me.” His cool hands on your bare shoulders and his raspy, commanding tone bring you back to reality.

As soon as you look into Feyd Rautha's blue irises, you stop trembling. You snap out of this strange trance, trying your best to forget about the returning memories that haunted you more often during this week of your stay on Caladan. You suspect that this may have resulted in a rather close relationship with Lady Jessica. You breathe slowly, focusing on his pale skin that looks like snow, illuminated by the moonlight that streams through the window of one of the Caladan's inns.

“Breathe in and out.” He gives you another order. You nod, imitating the pace of his slow breathing as you slowly begin to calm down. "I will kill that witch as soon as I get my hands on her." He growls, brushing your sweaty hair away from your forehead with his hand. You see immense anger in his eyes and the seeds of a plan forming in his head as he thinks of many ways to make that Bene Gesserit pay for your nightmares.

"You can't. She's the prince's mother. Besides, it's not her fault that she recognised me from somewhere. I could have been more careful."

"You covered your face with a mask for an entire week, all the time, even to sleep. What can you call that other than being careful? Besides, the baron knew that these negotiations were doomed to failure anyway. It's not like her suspicions ruined them. I would have decided to leave this damned palace even without it." He assures you, slowly lowering the two of you back onto the mattress. He wraps one arm around you, his tight embrace grounding you in the moment and helping your mind focus entirely on the present rather than the dark memories from your past.

"The Baron will be furious with you. It's all my fault. You should have killed me." You say, focusing your gaze on his daggers, which are strapped to his hip. Feyd follows your gaze and snorts. He grabs your neck, forcing you to lift your head and look into his eyes again.

"And get rid of the only competent right hand I've had in years? I'd rather suffer his punishment for this... small act of disrespect towards the Atreides. And who knows? Maybe he'll even like it? Harkonnen chooses inns over Atreides' palaces. I can always say that I saw rats running freely around my chamber and decided that such conditions are not worthy of a na-Baron and they are an insult to my person that I could not allow them to do." You roll your eyes at him, but you can't help but smirk at him.

Feyd finds himself smiling slightly at the sparkle of amusement in your eyes. He decided he preferred seeing them in your eyes rather than the emptiness and terror that didn't even let you breathe normally. He reveled in the fear of others. But yours brought him more pain than joy. Unpleasant pain.

It was starting to worry him. And maybe he would think about it more if you weren't lying so close to him now, practically in his arms. At his fingertips if he wanted to play with you. But, surprisingly, he didn't. And even if so, he wanted it only if you were as desperate for his touch as he was for yours.

"There are also rats on Giedi Prime. And you have to share a room with me because there's not enough space here for all of us. I'm sure your harpies are furious. You'd probably rather do something else with them, too, than hold me through my nightmares like some scared little child." You tease him, snapping him from his thoughts. He looks at you carefully, admiring the way the beads of sweat on your forehead glisten in the moonlight.

He feels a strange, new desire to make them be caused by him... or rather, by the activity he would subject you to. His gaze returns to your eyes and your lips, and he feels himself harden slightly as his thoughts turn to fantasies about you—something he's been doing a lot more of lately. One of his harpies mentioned something about him moaning your name...

"Maybe you actually deserve this punishment? Such sharp language…" He whispers huskily, tracing the line of your jaw with the pad of his thumb. He watches you carefully, and, as usual, he sees no fear in your eyes. Even when his fingers travel to your neck and then to the fabric of your nightgown, imagine how close he is to touching what you hide from him and everyone else behind your outfits designed to fit you into staying in the shadows and fighting. If he could, he would dress you in the most beautiful silks and jewellery so that he could feast his eyes on the only beautiful view of Giedi Prime. You see a crease form on his forehead as he becomes aware of this strange desire. He removes his hand before he goes too far to come back, and he clears his throat as he focuses his gaze on your eyes again. "What was that? That dream?"

"I... I don't want to talk about it." Feyd feels how you tense up just thinking about your nightmare. If it was anyone else, he wouldn't care. He wouldn't spare a thought or, if he was curious enough, force them to talk. But with you... he just nods and gives you space, turning to lay on his side of the bed.

"Feyd..." His heart beats faster after you use his name for the first time. He turns to your side of the bed so he can fully look at you. He hums, pretending that you're not giving him a heart attack and that he's not replaying the soft, gentle tone with which you said his name in his head. And he wants to hear it again. In many ways. A quiet whisper, a cry, a scream of pleasure as he makes you come... "I... can you..."'

He doesn't wait for you to ask him. And he could. He could make you beg for him to bring you the comfort you need or mock you for being so defenceless and scared, but how can he make you do that when you look at him with those doe eyes? How can he do anything other than pull you into his chest, place his hand on your head, and play with your hair, guiding your face into the crook of his neck as you look at him like no one has ever done before?

He wasn't the type of man you turned to for comfort or solace, and yet here you were, lying next to him, just wanting to feel his safe embrace around you again. He smiles when he feels your breathing and pulse slow as you fall asleep against him, allowing him to be with you in your unconscious state. He could do many things to you. He could slit your throat, stab you in the heart, scalp you of all your beautiful hair, and touch and taste any part of you he wanted. Satisfy himself with you and give yourself to his concubines when he ends using you.

But all he can do, as you sleep so peacefully on his chest, is pull the covers tighter around you and place a gentle kiss on your head. He doesn't remember the last time he felt such peace or the last time he felt wanted—not because of his status or the benefits he could bring to someone, but simply because someone wanted to be close to HIM.

"After all… I guess Caladan isn't that bad, my little witch." He whispers, pressing a kiss on the top of your head.

Feyd liked to think that the moment you first said his name and clung to him after the nightmare for comfort and security (IN HIM) was the moment he fell for you. But the truth was that it was a day later, after his uncle had punished him, inflicting various wounds with a blade on him, that you returned to the Giedi Prime without the expected agreement with Atreides. And, of course, he didn't rat you out. He took the blame. After all, it was his fault. He put your well-being above anything else and ordered to leave Caladan when Lady Jessica became too attentive to you. And he would do it again. He couldn't lose his right hand.

You felt guilty and took care of him. And those few days when you played the role of his nurse were the best ones in his life.

Feyd learned to love pain. Numerous punishments made it impossible for him not to do that. But he loved your gentle touch even more, esepcially when you tried your best to heal him. And he could get a thousand cuts or even more if it was the price of feeling your tender, caring touch on his skin once again.

And lying there with a torn back, looking at your sleeping form next to his bed, ready to meet his every little wish; he promised himself that he would do it. He will feel your hands on his body again. In better, less bloody circumstances. And definitely not with worry staining your beautiful eyes. But desire. Passion. Affection. Maybe even love.

"Uncomfortable, my lord?" You mock him with a little smirk as you both lie on the sand, observing the surroundings.

"Shut up, or I'll put you over my knee." You huff, shaking your head at his words. You know it's the last thing he'll actually do at this point. You use your binoculars to zoom in on a specific sand dune, in the middle of which there should be a Fremen base.

"Someone woke up with his left foot. I thought you'd be more enthusiastic about the upcoming fight." You say, trying to spot any movement, silhouette, or anything that indicates that your informant was right, and this is the place where one of the more important sietches are.

"I am. But it's damn hot here. Besides, sand gets in where it shouldn't." You smile, barely holding back your laughter, as Feyd allows himself to grumble next to you. You squeal in shock as he spanks you. You look away from the dune and give him an offended, shocked look when he chuckles hoarsely at your reaction.

"You're lucky that it's just a desert and that you're not dressed all in black like our soldiers. If this shipment of new equipment, weapons, and uniforms does not arrive this week, I will return to Giedi Prime and slaughter these useless scientists and engineers. Besides, your harpies will probably be more than happy to help you get rid of every little grain of sand from your body."

"Jealous?" He asks as you go back to watching the dunes.

"I wouldn't willingly be around these cannibals even if you paid me." You say, ignoring the fact that he was clearly asking if you were jealous of HIM, not the fact that he has his concubines and you don't. You shiver, feeling his piercing, burning gaze on you.

You're a little annoyed that he's doing practically nothing. Apparently, he too must have felt the effects of spending many weeks in that damn desert, and he had enough. Just like all of you.

"Arrakis brings out your more feisty side… I like it." He takes the binoculars from you and looks in a completely different direction. You snort, trying to see what caught his eye. You frown as you see a sandworm scurrying in the distance. But it wasn't under the sand... "Tell squad six to kill it. Those rats must be moving around again."

"Will you waste the bomb on a sandworm?"

"Only the most important Fremen travel like this. Whoever's on the back of this is not just anyone." You nod. You turn on the communicator and share information with the group, giving them the orders. You feel Feyd's eyes focused on you all the time. You roll your eyes and shift your gaze to his as he continues to stare at you curiously.

"What?"

"You've been here before, right? You may not know the ways of the Fremen, but I can see in your eyes that this planet is no stranger to you."

"The Bene Gesserit prepared us for every circumstance." You answered him deceptively. However, this does not quench his curiosity. And you know that since you're doomed to wait here for a good hour before anything happens, you're doomed to keep him entertained.

"Did they send you to Giedi Prime too?"

"No. But I was often send to Caladan." You say, not realizing how bad a move it was. The wrinkle on his forehead and the gentle tightening of his hand on his blades prove to you what an idiot you are. But you can't keep an eye on the dunes and anticipate his mood swings at the same time. Which he's had quite a lot of since you came to Arrakis. He didn't show it to anyone else, but you could see that the heat was bothering him just as much as it was for all of you.

"Why? Breeding program? Don't tell me you were supposed to be Atreides' pet." He spit out from his mouth the names of the people who were his family's greatest nemeses, as if it were some kind of dead poison. Even though the Atreides were long dead, buried in the sands of Arrakis, he still talked about them with huge hostility.

No. I was supposed to be your pet.

"I don't know." You slide off the sand to get out of sight of your possible opponents. There's no point in observing the area now. You know that your best men and their troops are positioned around you, so you could have left them to make the first attack. For now, you had to defuse a bomb that was about to explode next to you.

"You don't talk about it often. About the Bene Gesserit." He pursues the topic further, following in your footsteps. You both are standing on a small ledge, with your backs pressed against a sandstone. You don't have much space, so you have to rest your arm on his so as not to fall down and crash into the rocks below you.

"I don't want to remember it. I have another life now. Better one." You say, fiddling with your communicator. You issue a surveillance order to the rest of your units and turn it off, waiting for them to notice something. You take the shawl off your head and wipe your sweaty forehead with it.

"I won't let them hurt you again. Or anyone else." You freeze for a moment at his words. All you can do is stare at him in shock as he reaches for your face and grabs your hair. He ties them awkwardly, making sure they don't get in your face. It's a sweet gesture... even too sweet for him. And you wonder how the hell he knows how to tie someone's hair back.

You are about to tie your shawl around your forehead again when Feyd suddenly takes it from you. He wipes the back of your neck and makes sure there isn't a single bead of sweat on your face before he ties your shawl around his wrist.

"Who said they hurt me?" You ask, swallowing. You try to hide the tremble in your voice, but you suddenly become very aware of how close you are to each other. And that you two are completely alone...

"Your eyes and actions tell me more than you can let through your mouth, little witch."

"Shut up, or I'll put you over my knee." You respond with what he told you earlier without thinking much about it.

You gasp in shock as he presses you against the sandstone behind you, guiding the two of you deeper. His dilated pupils, slightly clenched jaw, and rapid breathing confirm how fucked up you are. You've lost your damn guard. Again. And now he will use it to his advantage.

"Oh, my darling little witch… you don't know how much I want you to do this…" He growls in your ear. His nose traces a path from your hair to your neck, inhaling your scent. You shiver as his lips brush against your neck.

"What are you doing?" You moan as he sucks your neck and bites it lightly, leaving a hickey there. He moves his head away from you and looks at the trail he created. He hums lightly, planning where to leave the next one. And another one. And another. And another...

"Shhh... We have a few minutes before they stop bombarding them. Another few before the dust settles and before we enter those rats' canals... let me make sure that my right hand is properly relaxed in the meantime."

As usual, he doesn't give you time to respond. He leans down and captures your lips in a passionate kiss. His chapped lips brush against yours, gently urging you to open your mouth for him. You try to tighten them as best you can, but he somehow manages to bite your lip, which makes him immediately clear the way for his tongue.

You gasp as his hands cup your ass. His fingers dig into your flesh, and you know that if it weren't for the thick tactical suit, it would have left bruises in the shape of his fingers. He picks you up without breaking the kiss and presses you against the stone-sand wall of the small cave.

You moan as his bulge rubs against your clothed core. You dig your fingers into his shoulders, holding yourself up as he peppers your neck with hickeys, grinding against you.

On Giedi Prime, you would struggle with him, trying to break free from his grip. But here, while you've been busy planning, tracking, fighting, and increasing your spice production for the last few weeks, you haven't had any opportunity... to take care of yourself. He wasn't helping either, following you around and acting like a fucking guard dog. And from what you heard from your room next to his in the night, he wasn't denying himself anything. Damn bastard.

What you didn't know was that he was fucking his fist thinking about you all this time because, since the two of you shared a bath, none of his concubines have been able to please him. So he's just as desperate as you are.

You moan as he thrusts into you, especially hard. He also purrs against your neck at the sounds you make. You're well aware that if it didn't take you forever to put your clothes back on, he'd already have you naked beneath him, fucking you wildly and giving you orgasm after orgasm... and you almost want to let him. If only those fucking witches weren't planning on breeding you with him, you would have been riding him wild a long time ago.

At one point, he bites into your neck, making you scream uncontrollably. You blush furiously when he pulls away from your neck with your blood on his full lips and gives you a hungry, lustful look.

"Take off your pants." He orders you. He licks the blood from his lips and leans down to lick the rest from your neck, leaving a few more hickeys on it.

"We… can't… we... battle..." He suddenly stops making any movements, but instead of moving away from you, as you think he will, he grabs you tightly by the throat. He squeezes lightly and leans forward, resting his forehead against yours. He breathes deeply and heavily, nuzzling his nose against yours before opening his eyes to fix his wide pupils on yours.

"Are you defying me?" You shake your head, always being a good soldier. "Good girl. Pants down, or I'll rip them off, and you'll have to walk back to the base without them."

This is a very real threat. And even though you know he would rather kill any man who dares to look at you in this state than expose you to the… lust of the hundreds of men who were on the base, you have no desire to parade around Arrakis with your bare ass. You start to take off your pants, slowly unbuttoning them. He won't even let you take them off of you all the way. As soon as he sees your exposed pussy, he drops to his knees in front of you, holding your hips in a tight grip.

"She blocks me so much when she has a damn spring between her legs… a real desert oasis…" He mumbles, his fingers collecting your wetness. You gasp as he looks you straight in the eye, sucking your juices from his finger. You lick your lips unconsciously, your brain completely stunned by the suddenness of the situation, the lust overwhelming you, the sight of him on his knees for you, as well as the spice in the air.

You don't even protest when he licks the stripe of your pussy and tightens his grip on your hips, pressing his face against your crotch. As he begins to lick and suck on your more sensitive parts, you scratch his scalp with your nails in a vain attempt to grab something. His dark, raspy chuckle against your clit makes you even wetter, as the vibrations and fingers teasing your entrance only fuel your desire.

He eats you like he's really dying of thirst. He brings out in you sounds that you would be ashamed of if you were in a better, saner, more aware state. And you try to maintain the last of your dignity and stifle your moans by placing a hand over your mouth, but he growls in protest and removes your hands so quickly that you have no idea when it happened. He places it on his shoulder, encouraging you to dig your nails into him as he devours you like his life depends on it. Like he would die if he didn't make you cum, lick up every last bit of wetness from between your legs.

At one point, he puts your leg over his shoulder. He's even closer to you (if possible), but you're not really paying attention to what he's doing as long as his mouth and fingers are still working their magic on you. You pull him closer, chasing your sweet release, when suddenly, he pulls away.

You growl in anger, opening your eyes. He's still on his knees in front of you, his face covered in your juices, and he's staring at you hungrily as if his face wasn't buried in your pussy moments ago.

"Say my name." His demand throws you off balance for a moment. You open your mouth to argue with him, to taunt him, but instead you close it quickly, biting your lip as his finger lazily moves in and out of your needy pussy. "Scream my name and I'll let you cum."

You don't want to give in to him like that. You don't want to show any weakness. But his fingers stretch you so wonderfully, hitting your most sensitive spot. You tremble around his fingers, biting your lip until it draws blood, too proud to admit to yourself how weak you were.

You escaped from the Bene Gesserit and from your fate to the only safe place; it's darkest under the lamp. No one in their right mind would willingly hide in the house of the man to whom you were supposed to submit. But it turned out that you were following the path these witches laid out for you anyway. But damn, he made you feel like you'd never felt with any man or woman...

You growl furiously as he removes his fingers again—right when you're finally about to come. He laughs hoarsely, sucking his fingers clean of your wetness.

"You're extending my fun, little witch. You must like it as much as I do." You protest as he dips his fingers inside you again, taking you close the edge again. You grab his neck, trying to pull him towards you, but he just laughs, intensifying the work of his fingers and fending off your feeble attempts to pull his face back to your needy cunt. "You know what you have to do to cum." He reminds you with a cocky smirk, watching your trembling, panting form.

Feyd drinks in the sight of you, so needy and desperate to orgasm. And it's all because of him. Every little moan, the closing of your eyes and the tilt of your head in pleasure, the ragged breathing, the quickening of your heartbeat, the wetness between your legs, the sweet nectar of the gods dripping down your thighs—it was all because of him. His cock hardens as he imagines how you'll react as he pounds into you like an animal in heat, stretching your tight walls for him. How you'll clench around his length and dig your nails into his back to feel him as close to you as possible. Or when you swell beautifully with his heir...

He will have you there. Willingly. He will prepare you as he is now; he will fuck out of you any thought until nothing except the desire for him remains.

"Feyd..." You moan as he unconsciously speeds up the movements of his fingers, thrusting them into you at breakneck speed. He smiles, blowing air at your pussy, making you moan even louder.

"Again." He demands, licking the small trail of your juices that has formed on your thighs. He welcomes the way you wet his hand and your shawl that was wrapped around his wrist. He'll save it for later this night.

"Feyd!" You pull on his head and he obliges. He couldn't be cruel to you in this state.

You come suddenly, quickly, and intensely. Your vision is blurry and unclear, and your blood is rushing through you as you moan loudly, holding on to him with all your might.

The next thing you know, he's holding you tightly by your trembling legs as he lowers you to his lap. You straddle him, hugging him tightly as you breathe slowly, trying to get back to a state of relative using after he fucked the orgasm of your life out of you. You hide your face in his neck, too disappointed in yourself to see the proud smirk on his face. He lazily rubs your back, holding you as you regain your strenght.

"You owe me, little witch. And you know, I always collect my debt." He growls hoarsely in your ear and presses a kiss on your temple. You can smell your scent on him. You blush, embarrassed, as you can feel desire rising in you again. "No response? Not a single malicious comment? Did I make you come so hard that now you are speechless? Are you really just a little mouse in need of my attention under that strong witch façade?"

"I'm not a fucking mouse." You snap at him in anger, finally coming to your senses.

"So that's the first one. Even better for me." He stands up, slowly carrying you from his lap to the ground. He reaches for your pants and helps you put them on. He grabs your hands and pulls you closer to him. You can't stand alone. You can't fucking stand alone. He laughs as he realises it, which irritates you to the point where you can't control yourself anymore.

"Shut up." You use your voice on him before you bite your tongue to stop yourself. Silence falls between you for a moment. You swallow, realising what you've done. You open your mouth to explain yourself, but, as usual, he beats you to it.

"Hmm… interesting. So you have that fire in you…" He tangles his hand in your hair and watches you closely, fascinated by the way you used your voice on him for the first time. "As sweet as I thought. Better than any water… Use that voice on me in a way I don't like, and I will really punish you, little witch. And this time, it will only be pleasant for me. Understood?" You nod your head with clenched teeth. "Good girl. Let's go. I believe they stopped dropping bombs right when you came on my face and fingers." He brags, letting you go when he sees you can stand on your own. You roll your eyes, realising how often he'll brag about it. You draw your blade and follow him, looking forward to hunting for Fremen.

You try to ignore the sand that… got where he was a few seconds ago and where he had it himself too. Damn bastard.

You walk through the corridors of your base. You're covered in blood, but it doesn't bother you much. Maybe a little when you remember that you will have to remove clotted blood from your hair. You sigh, adjusting the scarf around your neck that you took from some fremen to hide the hickeys as you walk to the war room to give new orders to the soldiers.

The Sietch has been completely destroyed by you. You murdered most of the fremen, and those left alive were taken prisoner... or to the camp brothel. You preferred not to go into details.

As you walk through the halls, you hear rustling behind you. You take a few slow steps and turn around, with your hand on your dagger, only to see na-Baron's harpies. You tense up as you watch the three women carefully and distrustfully.

"How can I help you?" You ask them, trying to avoid showing them genuine disgust and hostility. After all, they had somehow kept Feyd away from you… for now.

"The little witch is in trouble…"

"Our master will be very angry with her…"

"Maybe he'll even let us suck her bones when he's done with her…"

They say one by one, tilting their heads as they observe you. You shiver slightly, but you quickly adopt a hostile, intimidating stance, not caring much about what they say. They may have been cannibals, but you were a trained soldier and killer. You would kill them in a heartbeat if they weren't useful to you in some way.

"What do you want, vultures?" You growl at them, expecting them to get scared and return to their master's chamber, waiting for him like faithful dogs.

"The little witch's friend is here…"

"Our master is interrogating her…"

"And he learns very interesting things about the witch."

"When he's done with her, he'll be ours again."

"We will eat her meat and feast, celebrating our victory."

And what really should scare you more is the part about them saying they're going to eat you, but all you can think about is that friend he's interrogating. Another Bene Gesserit? Impossible. You made sure that everyone who came into contact with you either believed you were dead or forgot that you existed. Except for one… No. No, that wasn't possible.

"I have the blood of hundreds of rats on me. Get out of my sight unless you want yours to adorn my armor. And believe me… I will do it with great pleasure. I bet your master would fuck me on your corpse as a reward." You snap at them, still processing what may have been happening in the interrogation room. If your suspicions were true... you didn't even want to think about it. This couldn't be happening. You're paranoid. After so many years of keeping everything a secret... you couldn't lose control that easily.

You pay them no further attention and continue walking, ignoring their hisses and mocking laughter as you change your plans and head to the interrogation room.

You had to run away. As far away from here as possible. But if you do, he will chase after you. And when he finds you, and there is no doubt that he will, he will gut you and throw your remains to his harpies.

So you couldn't escape. You had to face him and try to tame him somehow. But how the hell are you going to explain to him that you ran away from the Bene Gesserit with him because you didn't want to be his concubine? Maybe a few years ago he would have understood it, but now that he has found this strange obsession with you, how could you get out of this situation? He'll cut you up before you even try to say anything.

You pass soldiers standing at the door of the interrogation room. They nod at you, letting you in as you hesitantly walk over to see for yourself if the situation is actually as dire as you think.

You feel the cold metal door on your back as it closes behind you with a bang. You freeze in place, swallowing nervously, as you see the Fremen Reverend Mother handcuffed to a chair. What scares you much more than the fact that it is really a Bene Gesserit is that it's Lady Jessica. Your former trainer in that sick sisterhood.

Feyd is standing right in front of her. His hands are gripped tightly around his daggers, and his gaze is focused on the woman in front of him. He strokes the blade of his dagger with his thumb as he is lost in his thoughts. He behaved as if he were completely oblivious to you, but you know him better than to even think for a while that he didn't notice your entrance. But he doesn't say anything as he continues to stare at her intently.

"She can tell you that herself. Right, Y/N?" Lady Jessica looks at you, raising an eyebrow defiantly. Even captured, she looks proud, as if she were the one who had power over what was happening in the room. "I should thank you. If it weren't for you, Paul would never have taken over the Kwisatz Haderach's way. No matter how hard I tried..."

"Feyd…" You ignore her and walk over to Harkonnen. You place a hand on his shoulder, but he just flinches at your touch, moving away from you. His eyes were fixed on the floor; he wasn't giving you even a single glance.

"I'm not surprised. If they sent me to breed with such a monster, I would also run away... not necessarily into his arms, but I really admire your skillful mind. To come up with such intrigue. No one would ever imagine that a little scared girl would run straight into the lion's mouth to take shelter there. I remember how you cried down my skirt when you found out what your mission was. I never would have imagined that my apprentice would go so far."

"Silence!" You shout at her, using the voice, and surprisingly, you succeed. You don't have time to try to understand what just happened—that you used your voice against a much stronger woman than you, the Reverend Mother. You walk up to Feyd and cup his cheek with your hand, forcing him to look at you.

His gaze is blank. He's wearing his mask, blocking out any emotions that might get through and reveal what he's thinking. He takes your hand and moves it away from his face, pushing you away from him like a bug.

"Would you like to see a monster, concubine of the Atreides? I'll be more than happy to show you one…" Before either of you can react, Feyd swings, creating a long gash across her chest. The woman gasps in shock, placing her hand on her wound, from which blood is now flowing down on the floor.

Before you can take a breath to talk some sense into him, he plunges the blade into her chest. You tremble as you hear the sound of cracked bones under the movement of his dagger and the witch's screams.

You don't do anything. You just stand there, watching as Feyd takes out his anger on her, disembowelling her. The metallic smell of blood hits your nostrils, but even that doesn't cause you to react. All you can do is stand and watch. And wait for your turn.

You feel sick as Lady Jassica's screams remind you of your friends who died on Arrakis. You deny what's happening in front of you as your thoughts return to that fateful day.

You weren't sent to Arrakis to try to survive. No, the plan created by Bene Gesserit was much worse. You were sent there to kill each other. This sick test was intended to eliminate weak individuals, leaving only one Bene Gesserit alive, the one who was the strongest among the young generation of women trained by these mad witches.

You were sent on one ship, thrown into the desert with weapons and one bottle of water, as an act of mercy. There were fifty of you. You killed half of them. Or at least that's what the Reverend Mothers told you after the Sisterhood took you back from there..

You were the only one left alive.

From that day on, you promised yourself that you would never let them control your life or make you go through these tests again. You didn't want to take part in their sick games ever again. You preferred to die rather than become their tool again, a monster that blindly follows their orders.

You never wanted to feel powerless or furiously frustrated again.

And now, standing there and staring blankly as Feyd killed the woman who was your mentor in front of you, you felt as if you were once again that helpless girl who is forced to do as she is told and who has no power over anything that is happening around her.

You flinch as blood reaches your shoes. You look up to see Na-Baron turning towards you. Blood was dripping down his armour as he cleaned his blades on her clothes, which were already soaked in blood.

For a moment, you delude yourself, thinking that it's not what you think. That he didn't actually discover the truth about your past in the Bene Gesserit by accident. That everything will be all right, just how it used to.

But by the look in his icy-blue eyes, you know he knows. He gives you the same angry, bloodthirsty glare that he gives his victims moments before they die. But there's something else there. Pain. Betrayal. Without knowing why, you feel a flood of guilt wash over you, outweighing your fear. But you didn't owe him anything. No loyalty or sincere devotion.

You gasp as he pushes you against the wall and presses the knife to your neck, breathing heavily. You feel it gently pierce your skin, causing blood to leak from the wound and run down your neck. He doesn't move away. He doesn't bend down to lick it off your skin. He presses further and harder, looking straight into your eyes. And you don't know if he's just testing you or if he really wants to kill you.

Suddenly, fucking him wasn't the worst solution to the situation you found yourself in...

Part III Taglist: (I hope that everyone is here...) @thegabbyh @himesuedi @wo-ming-bai @beebeechaos @mamawiggers1980 @moonsoulk @avidreader73 @heartarianagran @dreamlandcreations @ancientbeing10 @lovereadingfanfic @jeansjoie @workof-a-rr-t @aixicl @ladyredstar1991 @evangelineimagine @hobobobo-fett56 @happyant3 @marsflys @aaaaaamond @kamcrazy123 @k1swass @yum-yahgurt @tyns13 @oh-you-mean-me @menari @tyns13

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kasagia · 8 days

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Right hand III

Pairing: Na-Baron Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x fem!exBeneGesserit! reader Summary: After Feyd learns the truth about your dark past, you do everything in your power to prove your loyalty to him. He has many ideas for this... but will your life be able to go back to normal after that? You will either die at his hands, be exiled, return to the Bene Gesseit, or live by his side. And you yourself don't even know which of these options is worse... Warning: 18+; violence; blood; Feyd Rautha; death; fight; brutality; smut; Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen's Masterlist ~•♤♤♤•~ Main Masterlist

His dagger digs lightly into your neck, blood slowly trickling down it. You don't try to fight him, you don't push the blade away or try to rip it out of his hand. You know that if you did, you would have been killed by him long ago.

You had to play it smart… and fast—before he slit your throat, which was becoming a more likely scenario with every second.

"Feyd…" You choke out once more, trying to make him look you in the eyes and get him to listen to you. The blood is seeping out of you faster and faster as he presses the blade harder against your throat.

"Silience, witch! You little plague, bane of my existence, poisonous viper, how long have you been playing with me? How long have you been faking all this? Did you think you could outsmart me? That you can deceive me? Make fun of me? Humiliate me? I should fuck you raw, use you like a whore, and leave you in your ridiculous sisterhood to rot with those old hags!" He shouts, pressing his blade harder against your throat. The cool steel of the metal on your skin is becoming a more serious threat to your life. You shiver as you feel him taking more blood from you.

"Feyd, listen…" You try to speak again, placing your hand on his wrist. He pushes your hand away as if it posed a radioactive threat greater than anything floating in Giedi Prime's atmosphere and glares at you furiously.

"NO! You lied to me. You betrayed me. You know how I punish people for disloyalty. You're lucky that I won't throw you to my soldiers so they can play with you before I give you to my harpies. But don't worry, I will take very good care of you. You'll die like those cowardly rats you helped me kill a few hours ago…"

"You... you would... kill me... if I told you... at the beginning..." You gasp as he grabs your neck tightly and drags his blade down your body, creating a trail of blood leading to your collarbone.

"I will kill you now." He growls hoarsely, completely cutting off the air from your respiratory tract.

Your eyes widen as he lifts you off the ground so that only your toes touch the floor. Tears well up in your eyes as you desperately try to draw in air, but his hand is wrapped too tightly around your neck for the oxygen to reach your lungs.

When you realised that it was over and that he had decided on your death, the moment that Lady Jessica told him the whole truth about you, you relaxed. You let a blissful emptiness wash over you as you slowly waited for him to take your life away. You close your eyes, rest your head against the wall behind you, and let your body slowly go limp as the seconds pass without air.

You gasp, surprised, as the grip on your neck loosens so that you can take small, ragged breaths. You quickly take advantage of the opportunity and take a few shaky breaths. You open your eyes, staring into Feyd's icy blue and furious gaze in utter shock.

Was he going to play with you before he killed you? Torture, like many before you, until he finds in himself some mercy and takes your life? Because if you know one thing, it's that you won't beg him to let you go. About nothing. Never. You were too proud to do so.

"Fight." He growls, pressing you harder against the wall. He leans forward, bringing his face very close to yours. You shiver, feeling his breath on your cheek as he carefully observes your reaction to his intimidation. Like a snake waiting for the right moment to attack.

"What?" You ask stupidly, not understanding what he is doing. You've often watched him play with his victims, prolonging their suffering and giving them no hope of escaping his grip... so why does he want you to fight? Why does he want you to resist him? Was this another sick game of his?

"Fight! Scream! Struggle! Why are you not doing anything?! Why don't you beg for your miserable life, Bene Gesserit's spy?! Fight with me! Fight back! FIGHT BACK!!" He screams and throws you against the wall.

Completely unprepared for him to completely release you from his grip, you fall to the floor, too weak to keep your balance on your own. You place your hands on the black metal sheet beneath you and breathe quickly, trying to get as much air as possible before he wraps his hand around your throat again.

"I… I was always… loyal… to you…" You gasp, still trying to recover from what just happened. He walks slowly towards you. He presses the tip of his sword under your chin and forces you to lift your head and look him in the eyes.

“You have five minutes before I treat you like I treat your mentor. Use this time well. I can always get bored and kill you faster.” He takes a step back and slowly slides the blade across your skin. He steps away from you to pour himself a drink, but he keeps watching you out of the corner of his eye. You take one brief glance at Lady Jessica's body before you can compose yourself enough to formulate any logical response.

"I... I have no idea what she told you. Where she lied and where it was convenient for her to tell the truth... but whatever she told you I did... she surely doesn't know the one, most important thing. She doesn't know the reason for my actions."

"Oh, but I do. You wanted to run away from them so you wouldn't have to breed with such a monster as me. You thought that as my right hand, you would be safe, that I wouldn't notice you in the shadows, that I wouldn't want you, and that I wouldn't touch you. But I did. And by doing so, I destroyed your plans. Tell me, how many times have you escaped from Giedi Prime in your fantasies? How many times have you wanted to leave for good?"

With each question he asks, he takes a step towards you, which makes him stand in front of you again. But you didn't get up from the floor. You didn't feel like it. Besides, you doubted he would let you stand up and be on an equal level with him. He needed to feel in control, to feel that he is still dominating over you—that he didn't lose control over you despite your... betrayal. Although you didn't think it was any kind of betrayal at all. A slight omission of a few facts. Nothing more.

"I... you can't blame me for that. Anyone with survival instincts would not willingly live on Giedi Prime. But I stayed." You decide to tell him some of the truth this time. For too long, you managed to play your cards well. You had to bend a little to his will without losing your claw and not behaving like an obedient concubine, wanting to fulfil all his orders and wishes, because that would make him more suspicious, and he would definitely kill you for trying to deceive him and lie to him again.

"You stayed out of fear." He questions your words, keeping his watchful, piercing gaze on you as he tries to find in you any trace of lying.

You almost shiver under the furious gaze of his icy blue eyes. Fortunately, you manage to refrain from showing him any reaction. The metallic scent of Lady Jessica's blood motivated you to survive like nothing had before. You somehow manage to recall some of your lessons and training sessions with her as you think about how to respond to Feyd's words. Maybe her methods and rules didn't keep her alive, but unlike her, you knew Feyda-Rautha too damn well. You could get out of this. You just had to play it smart and sacrifice a few things…

"Out of loyalty to you. Sense of duty and honor. Something I thought we both shared." You say confidently, meeting his gaze bravely.

However, your attitude does not impress him at all. He lazily turns the dagger in his hands, playing with the sharp blade. He doesn't take his eyes off you, even for a moment. He just stands there, maintaining a completely calm and unruffled demeanor. It's hard to imagine now that just a moment ago, this man was overcome with the greatest anger of his entire life. You've seen him in many states, but you have never seen him that mad. Rabban may have been called a beast by others, but the real threat was his younger brother. Especially when his first anger was over and it was time for the cold calculation of revenge.

“Was that loyalty and sense of duty also present in you when you chose to ignore the fact that you were supposed to be mine? That you are destined to give me an heir so strong that the whole world will kneel before him?” This time, you can't help but shudder. He notices this and chuckles darkly, shaking his head. In a split second, the tip of his blade is once again pressed on the thin and delicate skin of your throat. You swallow, and when you meet his gaze, you realise that you have to tell the truth if you don't want to die on your knees in front of him.

"If your uncle told you to marry me and have your offspring with me, would you do it?" A frown appears on his forehead at the mere mention of the baron. His hand trembles slightly as a new wave of rage washes over him.

"What does he have to do with this?" He asks hoarsely, as he suspects you of working with his uncle. After all, you were smart enough to play both sides.

Feyd wouldn't be surprised if you reported everything he was doing to his uncle behind his back. That's why he preferred having you—a cunning, beautiful witch who was now kneeling before him—by his side. Because you were drop-dead perfect. He never expected you to make such a stupid mistake. To ever let him gain even the slightest doubt about your loyalty.

"Nothing. But the Bene Gesserit were to me what your uncle is to you. And after running away from them, the last thing I wanted to do was follow the last sick order they gave me." The years you spent with him gave you enough information about the family relationship at House Harkonnen.

They are like predators waiting for the right moment to attack, always prepared to hurt the other one when he shows even a tiny glimmer of weakness. You also know Feyd's past... or rather, the history of scars on his back. Unfortunately, these were not the only marks the baron left on him.

You hold your breath as he grabs your hair and pulls you up. You get up on your feet, and, being on an equal level with him, you no longer hesitate to look him in the eye. He releases your hair with the other, only to move it to your cheek and neck. He rubs tiny droplets of blood across yours, shifting his attention to your skin. He caresses your jawline with his finger and suddenly tilts your head back, giving himself a better view of your reddened throat, which has begun to form bruises in the shape of his fingers from how he choked you just moments ago. You swallow, watching him closely.

"And yet you served me for many years. You stayed with me after they wanted to link your future with mine. Why?"

“I was hoping the last place they would look for me would be Giedi Prime by your side. And that… after all, you won't be interested in me.”

"But I was. This must have spoiled your plans, right?"

"A little." You confess, hoping to gain something from your honesty.

After your words, there is a long silence in the room. He removes his hand from you, staring intently at you as he considers your words. You wait in suspense and anticipation for his next decision.

One quick move was enough to take your life.

And from the look in his eyes, you know it must have been tempting for him to add your blood to Lady Jessica's, which was already staining the floor of the ship.

"On your knees." His command is so sudden that it takes you a moment for your brain to process what he said.

All you can do is stare at him blankly, your heart beating with excitement and terror at the thought of his words. He didn't want to… he couldn't now… You look down at his pants and swallow, seeing the slight bulge. You hold your breath as he takes a step towards you and presses his hard length against your thigh, which undoubtedly confirms your suspicions. He lifts your chin with two fingers, forcing you to look into his eyes as you blush and realise what he is asking you to do.

"I love your doe eyes, my pet, but there's a time and a place for everything. On your knees or your heart will become another decoration of my chambers." He says it huskily, caressing your chin before letting go. He stares at you expectantly, waiting for your next move.

You swallow again, feeling a huge lump in your throat. Your mind is racing, but you know, as he does, that you have no escape. Your position is hopeless; you can either give him a blowjob or die, and you don't want to do any of it. Or touch him in any way after he disembowelled Lady Jessica in front of you. But the prospect of being his next victim reluctantly brings you to your knees before him.

"Good girl." He hums, tilting your chin slightly so you're looking at him and not the floor between you. He takes a step towards you and attaches the dagger to his arm. "Show me that your beautiful, deceptive, tempting lips, throat, and larynx can do more than feed me with sweet lies, and maybe I won't cut them out of you."

You hold your breath, your eyes trailing down to his pants. You hear him chuckle darkly before he takes your hands in his and places them on the fastenings of his pants, guiding your hands as you gradually free his length from his armour.

You swallow again at the sight of his full, hard length and curse him, as the rumours about him do not lie at all. He was enormous. Long and not too thick, but not thin either. You don't know if you'd rather he tried to cut your throat with a knife than pierce it with what stood proud between you.

"Rumours say you know how to do it. I don't remember how many soldiers I killed for the privilege of having your body before me. But each of them shared one opinion. Your fire burns as bright in battle as it does in the bedroom. Show me, my little witch, how much you care about continuing to be my right hand and having all the privileges you had." He encourages you mockingly when you stare at his slightly pre-cum-dripping cock for too long for his liking. But damn, his cum was black. You were sure as hell that the bastard was going to paint you with it.

You give him an angry, cold glare as you wrap your hand around his length. He lets out a soft moan, grabbing your jaw to make sure you keep your eyes on his. You swallow, stroking his length with slow movements of your hand as he gets even harder. Part of you is glad that he wants you to look at him. You doubt you could keep your composure if you had to look at what you had to fit in your mouth… and hopefully only in your mouth.

He growls when you drag out the inevitable too long, using only your hands on him. You can see that he likes what you're doing, but the impatience radiating from him makes you realise that it won't end with just a few caresses of your hands around his length.

Reluctantly, you lean down and wrap your lips around his tip, sucking him gently—like candy. You taste his pre-cum on your tongue, surprisingly taking in its… not-so-horrible taste. It's bittersweet on your tongue and thick. You shudder at the thought of what he would feel like inside you.

He groans, burring his hands in your hair as he gently pushes you on him to make you take more of his cock into your mouth. You choke as his length suddenly hits the back of your throat. Surprisingly, he stops pushing you and just keeps his hands in your hair, letting you adjust to his full length.

"I've always liked your hair..." He starts tugging on them to correct your rhythm. "A natural leash for my beautiful, dangerous pet..."

You growl around him in anger at his words. He groans throatily, feeling his cock twitch in your mouth at the extra stimulation he got from you. You feel tears slowly begin to well up in your eyes as he allows himself to move his hips more and more, lazily thrusting into your throat. Your saliva mixes with his pre-cum, staining the corners of your mouth.

It amazes you how gentle he is with you. How he doesn't push you too far so as not to cause you the pain you know he loves to enjoy. More than once, you had to call the medic to his concubines. Even his harpies occasionally got injured when he used them for his pleasure after a particularly exciting fight. You knew how… he could get lost in his pleasure. Yet he was extremely careful with you.

He starts thrusting into your throat faster and faster, guiding your head by your hair in time with his thrusts. You let your tears fall as he picked up a pace you couldn't keep up with. You close your eyes and feel a tear roll down your cheek. You open them, meeting his gaze, when you feel his thumb brush away your falling tear. He licked it off his finger, purring at its salty flavour.

You wrap your hands around his balls, massaging them in a circular motion, trying to make him come as quickly as possible. He laughs throatily, pounding stupidly into your mouth. Your jaw starts to hurt. You prop yourself up on his thigh with one hand, unable to stay on your knees for long on your own.

Seeing that you're having difficulty, he slows down a little, lazily digging into your throat. He luxuriated in the warmth of your mouth, and your tongue caressed his length. His gaze never falters, as he maintains eye contact with you the entire time. He strokes your cheek with his hand, then moves to your throat as he gently uses his fingertips to feel the bulge in your throat caused by his cock.

"I'll take you. Fast and hard. You'll cry as beautifully as you do now and writhe beneath me desperately, trying to escape like always, but you'll be so impaled on my cock and wrapped in the tight embrace of my arms that you won't move a fucking millimetre without my permission. I will fuck into you our Kwisatz Haderach, so no one will ever doubt that it should have been otherwise, that you don't belong with me. And the best of all is that you will not know the damn day or hour when it will happen. You will learn how to be my whore and baroness, just like you learned how to be my right hand. You'll do great, my little witch. You prove very well with your mouth and hands what a wonderful right hand you are. Much better than my own fucking hand. Much better than any of the fantasies I had. My little witch, always attending to my every need. Only fucking mine."

He moans, speeding up drastically, chasing his peak. You feel him getting closer to his orgasm as he becomes impossibly harder in your mouth and his balls tighten, ready to release his black cum. He keeps making you look at him until he growls loudly, coming into your mouth.

Earlier, you were gagging with just his length in your mouth. Now you really choke as his seed spills down your throat. He presses you against him, your nose brushing against his pubic bone, making you swallow all of his cum until it's completely inside you. Its taste is pungent, reminding you of a spicy, bitter spice.

He stays in your mouth for a while after he finishes pouring into you. He massages your scalp with his hands, clearly not wanting to release you. His cock twitches slightly, and you fear he's about to give you a second round.

He sighs, reluctantly pulling out of your mouth. He grabs your hands and guides them to his pants. You cleaned him and put him back in his pants without saying a word. You are not even looking into his eyes, knowing full well that a satisfied smile will spread across his lips the moment you do.

He grabs your arms and lifts you off your knees. You shiver, unable to stay on your two feet after being on your knees for so long, and you fall into his arms, leaning completely against him. He laughs huskily, pulling you closer to his chest. He uses his fingertip to collect the last of your saliva and his cum from the corners of your mouth and pushes his fingers into your mouth. You suck on them, meeting his eyes with your defiant, angry gaze.

He hums, smiling darkly as he watches with satisfaction as you lick his fingers. He leans forward, his nose brushing your cheek as he licks from your face and then from your neck the droplets of his black cum that leaked from your mouth as you tried to swallow everything he poured into you. You shiver as his tongue caresses the skin of your neck, tracing the small, sealed wound he inflicted on you with his dagger. He hums against your neck, disappointed at how quickly your blood clots.

Suddenly, he lets you completely go. You can barely keep your balance as he walks away from you.

"If that Atreides' bitch survived, so did her pathetic puppy. Send a message to our people in the desert. Paul Atredis is alive. We have to kill him before he and the rebels start a revolt and destroy our plans. Clean up here too. Tomorrow we have half a tribe of these rats to interrogate."

You nod dumbly, trying to understand what the hell just happened. Just a few hours ago, you were afraid for your life, and now that you... have pleased him, he acts like nothing has happened. You come to the conclusion that it bothered you more than when he pressed his blade against your throat.

"Ah, and Y/N." He says, stopping at the door and turning to look at you one last time before leaving the room. You can tell by the mischievous smile on his lips that he has nothing good planned for you. "I want to see you in my chambers tonight."

He doesn't wait for your reaction or response. He just walks out with a springy, energetic step, closing the door behind him with a bang.

You shiver as you find yourself alone in the room with Lady Jessica's corpse. You look around, and, in a desperate attempt to find some positives, you decide that at least your blood isn't staining the floor of the ship... or at least not yet.

His chambers in the main base on Arrakis are not as... ornately terrifying as those he had in Giedi Prime. You wouldn't guess that someone important lived there. It was an ordinary room with a bed, a chest of drawers, and a bathroom. No amenities, just a commander's room; definitely too poor for a na-baron.

You shiver as you feel his hand on your hip. He pulls you to his chest, wrapping his arms around your waist and burying his nose in your hair. He sighs, inhaling your scent. The warm air on your neck is tickling you gently. You think about how it's been too easy for him to sneak up on you lately. You've gone out of shape.

"Are you planning how to escape, little witch?" He whispers hoarsely, playing with the fabric of your nightgown.

"I didn't. And believe me, I had better opportunities in the past. So why would I escape now?" You answer his question with your own one, irritated by his suspicions.

"Because unlike me, you are very reluctant to welcome our Kwisatz Haderach into this world." You roll your eyes at his words and turn your head to give him an annoyed look. He shrugs with a smirk. He presses a kiss on the bare skin of your shoulder before resting his chin on it. "You're obviously trying to distance yourself from me, too." He adds, seeing the irritated frown on your forehead.

“Weren't you the one who thought the Bene Gesserit prophecies were just bullshit from stoned old women?” You ask, raising your eyebrows in challenge.

"I did… but this particular one seems very convincing..." He purrs into your neck. He moves one hand from your hip so his finger can trace the red line of the wound he gave you with the dagger. He tilted your head back, forcing you to rest your head on his shoulder as he placed a trail of kisses on the small scar.

"Where are your harpies?" You ask when he starts showing too much interest in your neck, peppering it with kisses.

"Should I call them? Would you like them to join us?" You wrinkle your nose, at which he laughs, amused, tightening his hold on you.

"Of course not. You know that I have... no sympathy for them." You grumble, trying to break free from his grip, which, of course, he won't let you.

"The feeling is mutual. You know, they think you're stealing me from them. And that I will quickly get bored with you, like with other... oriental pets I had, and I will come back to them."

"What are you waiting for, then?" You ask, raising an eyebrow at him. He chuckles darkly, shaking his head. His hand plays with the strap of your black sleep gown, gently stroking your bare skin. He leans down, nuzzling your temple, and whispers in your ear:

“The problem is, my dear little witch, that you have taken over every ounce of my thoughts. My dreams, my nights, my days… it seems only right that I get back the time I wasted dreaming about you, right?”

You shiver, both from his words and from the way his hand slides over your body like a snake. He strokes your breasts, taking a moment to focus on them before his hand rests on your hips again. He presses you against him, clinging to you like a second skin.

"Let's go to bed. It was a very long day. For both of us..." He says, directing you towards his bed. You resist him slightly by digging your heels into the floor, but he quickly counters this by lifting you up gently, leaving your feet dangling in the air.

"Wouldn't you rather sleep alone? It's pretty warm here." You try to get out of it one last time, feeling the soft silk of his black sheets beneath you as he gently places you on his bed. He laughs mockingly, amused by your poor attempt at escape.

"Not at night. You know that well. I'd rather keep an eye on you, little witch. We don't know what monsters may be lurking in the darkness of Arrakis after we killed the Reverend Mother of those rats." He purrs, laying down next to you. You sigh as he wraps his arms around you and pulls you closer to him, knowing full well that your safety is the last thing he's worried about right now.

"If Paul Atreides survived, it is very likely that he could be Muad'Dib. He will come here. To avenge his mother and unborn sister." You warned him. You're trying to make this situation more… normal. Lying in his bed and in his arms wasn't the least bit normal for you, but making plans with him was. You needed to keep your mind occupied until you could fall asleep… if he let you fall asleep.

"You didn't stop me from killing her. You didn't say a word. Why? Were you afraid you'd be next?"

You shake your head. You're not going to tell him the whole truth about what you felt back then, but you know you can't lie to him. You have to tell him at least half the truth if you want to regain some of his trust... at least until you escape.

"Lady Jessica believed that Paul was the real Kwisatz Haderach, since she gave Duke Leto a son instead of a daughter. The Bene Gesserit resented her for this. She was supposed to give him a daughter. A daughter who was to marry you and give you a real Kwisatz Haderach. By disobeying their orders, she fell into their disfavour... until she gave them the idea that they might as well... fuse me with you to secure your bloodline. But the Bene Gesserit came up with the idea that I was going to be the mother of the Kwisatz Haderach. If I hadn't gone with you that night... I might as well have died at her hands. I… I guess I was glad that I survived her."

Not looking at his face helps you partially open up to him. You didn't like remembering your past. This was the one thing you had in common. You try your best to reveal as little to him as you have to, unconsciously tracing patterns in his hand as he keeps hugging you from behind. If you turned around, you would have seen his small smile at your gesture quickly disappear as he sensed the growing tension within you at the thought of Lady Jessica.

"If I had known, I would have made it more painful for her." He states, taking your hand in his and squeezing it. You look down at your joined hands and frown as he slowly strokes the skin of your hand with his thumb.

"Why?" You ask in a whisper, not moving an inch when he buries his nose in your hair.

"Because no one hurts what's mine."You snort, knowing full well the true meaning of his words. If you were just a naive young girl, you would believe in the good intentions behind these words. However, you know Feyd Rautha too well to naively believe that he won't break his favourite toys. He grabs your chin in a tight grip and turns you to face him. You swallow thickly as his intense gaze meets yours. You've never had the chance to look so closely at his icy blue eyes... "I want you by my side all the time. I need to make sure you're not planning anything behind my back, little witch."

"Haven't I proven my loyalty enough?" You ask, placing your hands on his bare chest and pushing yourself away from him gently. He chuckles darkly, letting go of your chin in a split second to grab your wrists in a tight grip. He lifts your hands, pushing them away from him and twisting them so you can't move them.

"I believe you are capable of doing much more." He murmurs against your throat, pressing kisses there and lazily sucking at your skin, which was already irritated by his dagger.

You squirm in his arms, trying to somehow protect your neck from his wandering lips. Your attempts fail, as you only give him more fun by grinding against him in a desperate attempt to escape.

Eventually, he gets bored and decides to let you go. He lets you turn your back on him again, but you don't get far. His arms wrap around you, holding you in a cage as he takes on the role of the big spoon.

"I will bring you the head of Atreides on a golden plate. There is only one Kwisatz Haderach—our future son. I won't let some dog from Caladan tell people otherwise." He whispers in your ear. You shiver, half-wishing you were stupid enough to believe in his devotion. The fact that someone can do anything you want for you. But it wasn't love. It was just an obsession. You had to remember that.

"Maybe he really is the one… or maybe it's all just nonsense made up by those old hags? Maybe there will be no Kwisatz Haderach at all? What's then?" He doesn't answer your questions. However, you manage to get some reaction out of him.

He pulls away from you, the bed creaking beneath him as you hear him turn over to his other side. The sudden chill of not having his body close to yours makes you shiver.

You find yourself regretting for a moment that whatever you said made him distance himself from you. You shake your head and sigh, sinking deeper into the pillows. You try to find the most comfortable position possible when settling down to sleep. But for some reason, you don't feel tired at all. Your eyes are wide open as you listen to his soft breathing, the only other sound in the empty room.

"How did you find out about… uncle?" His sudden question makes you turn towards him. He remains turned away from you, ignoring any movement from you. You think for a moment, staring at the scars scattered across his pale, muscular back, before answering him.

"I have eyes and ears. And enough brain cells to… deduce a few things." You whisper, tracing a particularly nasty-looking scar on his back with the pad of your thumb. "I also... I went through something similar. I've told you that before. Bene Gesserit was to me what your uncle is to you." He turns slowly to face you at your words. His eyes examine you so thoroughly that you feel another shiver run through your body.

This time, when he reaches out to cup your cheek, you don't fight him. You let him, trying to decipher the unreadable look in his eyes as he continues to consider your words.

"Tell me... how could I resist when you're like this? How could I ignore you and leave you in your shadows when everything you do fascinates me to a madness that only you can heal?" He asks, tracing the line of your lips with the pad of his thumb.

"You wanted to kill me today." You remind him in an accusatory tone. You bite the tip of his finger, which only brings a smirk to his face as he moves his hand away from your face. He places it on your hip, squeezing it in a silient warning.

"I wanted to scare you. You lied to me, so you needed some punishment. Besides, you know perfectly well that if I really wanted to kill you, you would already be dead."

"Not telling the whole truth is not a lie. Besides… your intentions don't make this situation any different to me." You huff, rolling your eyes. He laughs huskily, caressing your hip through the fabric of your nightgown as he moves closer to you on the bed. Your chest is pressed against his. Both of you are breathing steadily and slowly, staring intently into each other's eyes.

"Are you afraid of the little old me, my little witch?" He asks teasingly. You catch yourself watching the sparkle of amusement in his eyes shine surprisingly brightly under the light of the Arrakis moon. You can't make yourself turn your gaze off of him. And that's what terrifies you.

"Should I?" You ask in a whisper, trembling, not giving him an ounce of trust. Seeing your extremely distrustful and hostile attitude, he stops smiling. He looks at you more seriously, as he is deep into his thinking.

He doesn't respond to you. He places a kiss on your forehead and turns your back to him. He holds you tightly, buries his nose in your hair, and slowly falls asleep, wrapping himself in your warmth and scent. On your back, you feel his heart beating calmly in his strong, well-built chest. You allow yourself to sigh shakily, being finally 'alone' for the first time since this fateful day began.

And you realise that you're not afraid of him at all. The only person you are afraid of is yourself. That you would give in to your strange attraction to him one day and seal your fate. You didn't want to die. But you'd rather find yourself buried under the sands of Arrakis than let those Bene Gesserit witches control your life ever again.

"If you tear this, you'll be walking around with my hand around your throat." He warns you, seeing you struggling with the black leather choker around your neck he gave you. It looked like a fucking collar. And it was a bit too tight for you to feel comfortable in it.

"You give me so many options…" You snort sarcastically, leaving the damn choker around your neck. "I look like a fucking whore." You say and turn towards him to look at him carefully.

He wore his more formal black armour with a cape that was as dark as the rest of his outfit. He smiles sarcastically and walks over to you. He smoothes the fabric of your dress on your waist and places his hands on your hips.

"Whore? Not at all. More like my pet." He hums, trying to take in your form in a form-fitting black dress. The silver chains on your hips and chest connect into a spider's web that flows down with the fabric of the skirt of the dress, which surprisingly doesn't cling as tightly to your body as the bodice of the dress does.

It's... definitely a bolder outfit than you're used to wearing. And this time, your hair was loose. The maids put silver accessories and small diamond jewels into your hair. You were a nicely wrapped gift, especially prepared for the Na-Baron's birthday.

"What's the difference?" You ask, raising an eyebrow defiantly.

"Calm down, little witch. Rumours about your past spread quickly. We can't let people see me as a weak man who fell under the spell of a Bene Gesserit, can we?" He teases you. He leans towards you and nuzzles your cheek before his lips start to trace a path along your jaw to your neck. You sigh slightly and place your hands on his chest, trying to keep him at a distance.

"Please. Don't pretend you're not doing it for your own fucking satisfaction." You snap at him, still trying to push him away. He puts the dagger on your neck rather quickly and too suddenly, making you refrain from any form of protest for a moment as he decorates your neck with hickeys.

"I'm not even trying to deny it at all… you look stunning, by the way." He growls hoarsely. His blade moves from your neck to the top of your corset, pressing the tip against the valley between your breasts. You sigh, feeling the coolness of the blade against your chest.

"They are waiting for you." You whisper as he nuzzles his nose against yours.

"We have a moment... besides, it's my birthday. Don't you want to celebrate my adulthood?" His low tone of voice sends shivers down your spine. Even after he tosses his blade aside, you make no move to try to walk away from him.

"You're still acting like the horny teenager I met. I doubt you will ever grow up."

"Watch what you say… I can always show you how hornier I became." His warning is not just lip service. He shows it to you... very clearly as his hard length rubs against your thigh.

You grab his jaw tightly and take a step away from him. He laughs, grabbing your wrist and pulling you back into his arms in one quick movement. You gasp in shock, falling into his chest. You struggle in his embrace until he slaps your ass. You glare at him furiously, at which he only tightens his grip on you.

"I want you to paint my body before the fight." He mumbles, caressing your cheek as you try to pull your head back from him.

Leading members of the high houses gathered on Arrakis to celebrate his birthday and the fact that he had managed to restore the mining and export of spices to extraordinary levels.

Feyd was to put on a spectacle, killing the most dangerous Fremen who managed to be kept alive during interrogations. However, you and Feyd have bigger worries to take care of right now. Like the baron and the emperor. Or Paul Atreides... or rather, their Muad'dib, who has not been found by you yet. Something Feyd decided to ignore for now in favor of groping you and trying to get into your pants.

Over the last few weeks, he has clung to you like a limpet. It made it very difficult for you to do any work or spy, as he was literally following you around. You felt like his favourite dog on a leash, taken for walks around the building before locking you in his chambers for the night, keeping you close to him. Even his harpies couldn't take his attention away from you. Something you really hoped would happen soon.

"It's always been… your harpies' privilege." You say as he tangles his hand in your hair.

"And now I want you to do it." He says it calmly, caressing your cheek as you try to pull your head back from him. "Do you mind?" You huff at his condescending question.

"Don't ask me questions like that; otherwise, I'll start thinking that I really have a choice here." He laughs, showing you a set of his freshly painted black teeth and shakes his head at you.

"We both know you're too smart for that, my shrewd little witch." He says this and leans in, gently brushing your lips with his. He keeps a tight grip on your hair as his kiss becomes more intense and possessive. He tightens his grip on your waist, tugging at the fabric of your dress, causing the silver chains on it to clang against each other with every move of his hand.

His hand reaches for the strings of your corset at the back, but before he can untie even one of them, there's a knock on the door.

"My Lord Na-Baron, the Baron, and your brother have just landed on Arrakis. The emperor should also be arriving soon."

You feel him tense slightly as he pulls away from you. His face hardens as he puts on his emotionless mask, staring out the window, where he could probably see the ship landing.

"Come on, little witch. I don't need to remind you to be on your best behaviour, right?" You roll your eyes at him, placing your hand in the crook of his elbow.

"I think I can play your concubine for a day. Consider this my birthday gift to you, my Na-Baron." You say it sarcastically and sweetly, walking with him out of his room and towards the great hall where he would greet everyone gathered. If you were lucky enough, you might be able to escape from him for a moment or two...

"In my chambers as well?" He asks teasingly, and out of the corner of your eye, you see him trying not to smile, but the corner of his lip twitches, giving him away (at least to you).

"Anywhere but there." You reply quickly, making him smile this time. At least for a second. After all, he has a reputation to uphold.

"That's okay. We don't need to do it there. There are so many other places…" He whispers hoarsely in your ear before you enter the room where the first party is to be held. You can't stop a cold shiver from running down your spine.

Doors are opening for you. You wait for him to let go of your waist and move in front of you like he usually does at these types of parties with the concubines he brought for company, but he doesn't do that at all. Instead, he tightens his grip on your waist and holds you by his side as he navigates through the sea of people. You can't help but blush slightly.

If you had any doubts over the last few weeks that he was no longer interested in you, they were gone with his small gesture. He will indeed ruin you. As soon as he finds the opportunity suitable. You were afraid that the evening of his birthday might be considered in his eyes as a perfect time to do this.

But somehow you manage to get out of his sight. You position yourself against the wall, having a perfect view of the most important people in the room. The Baron and Feyd were talking about something with the Emperor and his daughter. You look at them curiously, especially since the Harkonnens have their backs turned to you. And looking at Princess Irulan in a silver dress that was constructed to resemble armour, you see in her your chance for freedom. If Feyd married her, he would probably get over his strange obsession with you.

"Lady Y/N." Feyd's older brother's mocking greeting reaches your ears. You turn to him, taking your eyes off Feyd for a moment, and nod to the man standing next to you.

"Count Rabban."

"I heard you and my brother dealt with the rats of Arrakis. My congratulations." You are quite wary of his civilised attitude. The last time you saw him, Feyd made him kiss his shoes. And yours. So you definitely didn't stay in... a neutral relationship after that.

"Na-Baron is a great commander." You reply with a polite smile. Your eyes involuntarily wander to Feyd. There's a knot in your stomach when you see him talking to the princess. You frown, wondering what the hell is wrong with you.

"I have no doubt." He nods, also looking at Feyd. "He will destroy you. Like any toy he had before you. When you lose your usefulness, he will throw you to his harpies. He's more unpredictable than me or even my uncle. But you know that... so what are you still doing by his side?" He asks, turning his gaze on you.

"I am his right hand. I live to serve him." You answer automatically, shrugging your shoulders.

"If I had known that Bene Gesserit witches were so devoted, I might have appointed one to be my right hand."

"Believe me, count Rabban, the overwhelming majority would not serve him or anyone else so loyally as I do. They would probably prefer to poison themselves." He laughs at your words, taking two drinks from the passing servant. He hands you one, but you shake your head. "I don't drink if I don't have to. Old habits from my home planet. My mother would slap my sisters and me on the hands until she could see our bones as a punishment for stealing a drink or two." You're half lying when you remember how the Reverend Mothers made sure you were completely… untainted by any substances that could make you less healthy. All for breeding. Like farm animals.

"And they say the Harkonnens are monsters. At least you can get drunk with us… well, before we torture you to death or accidentally kill you."

"I've gotten used to it. Fortunately, I have fast reflexes." You reply with a smirk, knowing full well what he's trying to do. He wanted to ingratiate himself with you while you were still important in the Harkonnen court. His brother currently despised him, and his uncle probably did too. He saw an opportunity to increase his political influence when he spotted you alone.

Suddenly, you feel someone's intense gaze on you. You turned your face to notice that Feyd's eyes were on you and not on the princess, with whom he was still talking. Judging by the way your skin was burning from the look Feyd was giving you, you could tell he didn't like his brother being close to you at all.

And Feyd was incredibly pissed off and furious. In his eyes, Rabban wasn't worthy enough of your time, attention, or even being close to you to have the pleasure to smell the scent of your perfumes. But not only did his brother have the courage to talk to you; he even made you smile. Feyd was already planning in his mind how to tear his head off.

Na-Baron would have done just that if an arrow had not suddenly passed between him and Princess Irulan.

Panic filled the room when suddenly, a hail of arrows hit random people. You grabbed your blade and were about to move towards the first archer you noticed, but suddenly a cold steel was pressed against your neck. The Fremen woman holds you tight. You can only stand there calmly and watch as they overpower the more important representatives of the great families, leading the less important people out of the room. Feyd's blue irises are focused on you all the time, which surprisingly makes you feel a little better.

"Silience!" You freeze when you see Paul Atreides emerge from the crowd of Fremen.

Your informants haven't told you much about him. He had done well since he was forced to live on Arrakis among the Fremen. He became stronger, smarter, and more ruthless. He had no weaknesses… except one. You look around the room, your eyes locking on the woman who stood a few metres away from you. His lover.

If living among powerful men taught you anything, it was that they only had a few weaknesses. Fear for their lives, property, title, and, among those younger and less experienced in life, their loved ones. But Paul Atreides changed on Arrakis. He wasn't the little boy you knew during your training with his mother. You could only hope that he loved his woman enough to consider rescuing her. Maybe you will buy enough time before your trops, waiting on ships above Arrakis, come to rescue you.

"Let me go. Give me your blade. Keep your mouth shut and close your eyes for the next 30 minutes." You use your voice on the woman who holds you.

While she does what you told her, you try to get to Atreides' lover unnoticed. You ignore his speech; your heart is racing in your chest, and all you can hear is the sound of your blood flowing in your blood vessels.

When you reach the Fremen woman, you quickly disarm her and press your dagger to her neck. Atreides stops his speech. Before anyone can react, you take a deep breath and say loudly:

"Everyone ten steps back. Stay still, or slit your throat with the nearest weapon." Everyone in the room is listening to you. You have to take a few steps back with the woman you have in your iron grip. You tremble as you feel the eyes of everyone in the room on you, especially Feyd's. However, your gaze is fixed only on Paul Atreides.

"This is impossible… what are you?" He asks in shock, not moving after you forced him and everyone else in the room to back away from you.

"It doesn't matter, Atreides. Take your men and get out of here. I advise you well." You growl furiously at him. You feel the blood start to pulsate in your veins. The old wound on your side is slowly starting to open up under the pressure your body is going through. You're glad you're wearing a black dress. At least not all of them will see the blood stain on your dress when it will be leaking out of you more and more by the second.

"You cannot keep them under your will forever. You'll soon get tired, faint, or bleed to death." He reasons, fully aware that your crowd control is time-limited.

"My men will be landing here soon. They'll take everyone who counts and fly away with us, raining nuclear bombs on your precious little desert. The spice from these areas may have been contaminated for several centuries, but we still have the opposite pole of Arrakis to exploit and extract it. So better choose wisely."

He frowns at your words, looking at you carefully and analysing your facial expressions carefully. You stare at him hard and unfazed, even though you feel the fabric of your dress sticking to your open wound. You have a staring fight with each other until you press your dagger a little more into the woman's throat and take her blood. He looks briefly at his girl before he opens his mouth to speak.

"We've met before, right?"

"You have one minute to make a decision before I make your woman bleed to death in front of you." You say hoarsely, feeling your muscles tremble slightly. But you hold on with all your might, maintaining your calm, dangerous, hostile attitude.

You all wait in suspense to see what he will do. He might as well attack and kill you, risking his men overpowering any reinforcements that come to your rescue. But you hope he's considerate enough to back off. If not because of the people who came after him, then because of his girlfriend or concubine, whose life now depends solely on you.

You almost sigh in fucking relief when he takes a step back. You let him get out of your control, looking at him carefully all the time. You swallowed and let go of his woman.

"Follow your Muad'Dib." You command the people of the desert. They stare at you for a moment before their eyes rest anxiously on their leader. He nods at them as he slowly leaves the room.

As quickly as they arrived, they left. You stand at attention for a long time—a minute, an hour, or hours—until you hear the ship approaching and the movement of the sands of Arrakis under the influence of sandworms.

They left. You realise this with relief. However, it is a very short-lived relief. It ends when your eyes meet the eyes of the reverend mothers, who are clearly communicating with each other. You fucked up. You revealed that you were a Bene Gesserit, or at least that you knew some of their tricks. Unconsciously, you completely let go of control over the gathered crowd.

"Why didn't you wait for your people so we could kill them? Kill him?" The emperor's voice reaches you vaguely. You raise your head and meet the gaze of an old man standing a few steps away from you.

"I bluffed, my emperor." You reply shakily, feeling blood start to flow from your nose as well.

"What?" He asks in shock, unable to believe that all your talk was a pure bluff. You don't have the strength to explain anything. You can stare blankly at the floor, feeling your strength slowly begin to drain away after you use the voice on the people gathered in the room.

"I bluffed." You repeat, feeling your heart beat rapidly against your chest. Your vision becomes completely blurry; all you can hear is the buzzing in your ears, the pounding of your heart, and the slow dripping of your blood onto the floor.

"But… you…" Whatever he was about to say, he's interrupted by you falling to your knees. You don't register at all what's happening around you. The only thing you are sure of is that there are suddenly a lot of people around you.

You're clinging to what little consciousness you have when you suddenly feel something pull you against the hard wall of muscle. You lean against the unexpected support, slowly drifting into blissful unconsciousness as you no longer feel the pain from the open wound on your side. The hoarse call of your name makes you a little more aware, enough to distinguish Feyd's voice from the indistinct gibberish around you.

"Get a medic here!"

He whispers something else to you as he brushes your hair out of your face, but you don't hear anything anymore. You let yourself go into the blissful darkness, happy that you can rest, at least for a moment. And you feel surprisingly comfortable, with the warmth of his arms and his scent being the last things you feel before passing out.

You're surprised that when you wake up in the hospital wing, there's no one at your bed, looking at you like a guard dog. Once you get used to the feeling of being fully aware, you rub your eyes. The moonlight shines through the window, illuminating a dark and empty room you found yourself in.

You ignore the strange twinge in your chest when you don't see your Na-Baron anywhere near you and slowly sit up on the bed. You check the status of your wound and are pleased to see that you are in a more stable condition than you were a few hours ago.

You place your feet on the floor and slowly stand up, testing your muscles. You're relieved to see that it's not as bad as it was in the past. You walk over to the chair where a black silk robe is hanging and put it on. You take a moment to search the room, smiling hugely when you find your daggers on the nightstand next to your bed. You attach one to your thigh and tuck the other inside the sleeve of your robe. Maintaining great silence, you tiptoe out of the room.

You sigh in relief as you wander the empty corridors again, hiding in their shadows. You feel like a newborn, like a fish that has returned to the current of a familiar river. You weren't aware of how therapeutic it was for you to wander the halls alone at night until Feyd trapped you in his arms and his bed practically every night. You missed it. Very much so.

However, today's attempted attack by Atreides made you realise that you were too focused on getting away from Harkonnen and trying to keep him at a distance. You had to take action. Otherwise, Paul Atreides will cut off your head, just like his mother once wanted to do.

You shudder as you remember the day you escaped from the Bene Gesserit sisters' sanctum.

You ran barefoot through familiar corridors in the cold, dark night. You didn't need a torch or other light. You had lived within these walls long enough to know which corridors ended in dead ends and where to turn to reach each gate. But Lady Jessica knew them as well as you. You had to be a lot smarter if you were going to escape the woman who wanted you dead.

Yesterday there was a great meeting of Reverend Mothers after Lady Jessica failed to give birth to Leto Atreides' daughter at the right time. The Reverend Mothers had to find... a new breeding mare for Feyd Rauthy, from whose blood the Kwisatz Haderach was to be created. They chose you. And now, because of this honour that had been a death sentence for you from the very beginning—a curse, an evil fate that seemed to have stuck with you since your birth—Lady Jessica had tried to kill you in your sleep and was now trying to complete her work.

You decide to go to the ramp, hoping that you might be able to capture some small ship—something flying around—that would get you away from those damn Bene Gesserit.

You knew you were too weak to fight Lady Jessica. She taught you a lot, but not how to defeat someone stronger, like her. If you wanted to live, you needed to find a way to escape.

You speed up as you hear the click of her heels behind you. You run as fast as you can, reaching the door just as Lady Jessica appears at the end of the hall. You close the door behind you with a loud snap. You sigh, leaning against it for a moment. You freeze as you feel the blade against your throat.

"Step away." You order in panic before opening your eyes. A cold chill runs through you as you see Na-Baron Harkonnen's cold blue irises staring at you in shock as he obediently steps away from you.

You stand there for a few minutes, staring at each other without saying anything. Na-Baron examines you carefully: your dishevelled state, rapid breathing, red cheeks, and bare feet. You have no idea what he deduced, but it was enough for him to not immediately slit your throat for using the voice on him.

"You should go back to your sisters, little witch. Unless you want to join me, I wouldn't say no to the company of... such a pretty mouse." He speaks hoarsely. He doesn't wait for your answer, though. He simply turns and walks slowly towards the ship his men are packing. You swallow and wonder: Is death at the hands of Lady Jessica or at the hands of Harkonnen? Your pride chooses for you.

"I'm not a mouse, I'm a warrior." You reply, gathering all your inner courage. Na-Baron stops in his way.

His raspy laugh sends another shiver down your spine as he slowly turns back to face you. He approaches you slowly, each step perfectly calculated as he stands a few millimeters in front of you, invading your personal space. You raise your head proudly and meet his gaze with your own, determined one.

Which impresses him.

So much so that he reaches for the dagger strapped to his hip. You don't flinch when he runs the tip of the dagger across his tongue. You watch him closely, waiting for him to either slit your throat or accept the challenge. Feyd is surprised. And very curious—too curious—to simply walk away and continue on his path. That's why he takes your hand in his and hands you the dagger he was just testing.

"So show me what you can do, little witch. Except for using that honeyed voice of yours." He says it mockingly and takes two steps back, drawing another hidden blade from his armour.

You don't remember the entire fight clearly. The adrenaline was pumping through you so much that you only remember snippets of that dance with him with daggers in your hands. Surprisingly, neither of you disarmed the other. You stopped as you both placed your blades against the other's flesh—at points that would guarantee instant death if either of you decided to press the blade against the skin a little harder.

"You fight well, little witch." He praises you, moving away from you. "You're wasting yourself here." He says, looking at you acutely for a long time, considering something. But finally, he nods at you and turns again to join his men and board the ship. You quickly grab his hand before he gets too far away from you. You feel him tense at your touch, but he doesn't make any moves.

"Let me go with you. My blade will be an extension of yours, Na-Baron. I'll be your spy from the shadows, just... get me out of here." He widens his eyes slightly, unprepared for such a request. He turns towards you and glares at you with his icy irises.

It could very well be a trick from those witches, but Feyd would be lying if he didn't say that you caught his attention the first day he saw you training. And he really wanted to see what you were really capable of doing. Few had the guts to challenge him. And he found it somehow charming—how your eyes shone with determination every time you held the blade in your hands.

"Your sisters won't be happy when they find out that I took one of them to Giedi Prime." He says, feigning hesitation. His people knew him well. If he wanted something, he took it. A group of old witches wouldn't stop him, not now that he saw... great potential in you. Maybe not only as one of his soldiers.

"With all due respect, your house is not known for following anyone's rules except those you set. I… I can't stay here any longer."

His heart beat faster, seeing the desperation and helplessness in your eyes. Normally, he would laugh at someone who showed him weakness and kill him on the spot without much thought. But you... when you stared at him with those pleading eyes of yours, flushed from fighting him... it did something to him.

Feyd knew the feeling of helplessness. His uncle loved making him feel this way. And Feyd himself finds great enjoyment in making others feel that way. Humiliated. Weak. Scared. Somehow he didn't like the fact that staying in the sisterhood made you... feel like that and do such desperate actions as coming with him to Giedi Prime.

However, he had no intention of letting go of such a valuable bird that was voluntarily pushing itself into his cage.

"Well, you fight better than most of my men... I will make you my right hand. And as for your Bene Gesserit sisters..." You sigh softly as he reaches for your hair and cuts it in half. He cuts your shoulder and dips the cut hair in your blood. You see him put a few strands in his pocket, before he handed them to his servant, growling something at him in his native language. You raise an eyebrow at him. "I told him to convey my thanks to the Reverend Mother for... sending me a delightful toy. He might also mention that my darlings liked your meat." You nod, swallowing. He laughs mockingly, patting your shoulder. "You have many things to learn, little witch. You better prove to me that I wasn't wrong about you, or you will suffer exactly the fate that my servant will pass on to your sisters. I don't like weakness and disappointment."

"I have no intention of disappointing you, Na-Baron."

"Good. Come with me. I'm fed up with this planet. Besides, you need to change your clothes if you don't want my men to think you're a whore they can enjoy while on our journey." He nods and walks towards the ship. You follow him like his shadow, casting cold, sinister glances at the people staring at you.

"I am perfectly capable of defending myself, my lord." You reply confidently as you walk with him up the ramp to the Harkonnen ship. You see a small smile appear on his face at your words.

"I don't doubt that. However, I wouldn't want to lose more people than necessary. It's supposed to be your job to clean up after me, not the other way around, little witch." He responds, testing you and carefully watching your reaction. You don't flinch, perfectly prepared and familiar with... the brutality of the Harkonnens.

"Duly noted. There's only one thing I don't understand." He doesn't stop in his steps, but he gives you a quick glance and hums, allowing you to continue and ask a question. "I appreciate it very much, but… why didn't you kill me at the entrance?"

He chuckles hoarsely at your question and stops at a specific door. He turns to look at you, a spark of amusement shining in his eyes as he studies you like a predator would its prey before deciding to answer you.

"You didn't apologise or beg for your life. I found it... very refreshing." He says, opening the door. The metallic smell of blood fills your nostrils. You look into the room and see several prisoners chained to the wall of the ship with some strange cuts on their chests—probably some words in Harkonnen."Your first task, little witch. My darlings are very hungry. They will need the meat of my enemies. Come back here in an hour... I should finish by then. And change that rag you wear. I want to see you only in black." He orders, closing the door behind him with a bang.

You stand in the hallway for a moment, blinking and staring at the door, as you are suddenly thrown into a new reality that you have to get used to. You mutter a series of curses under your breath as you go searching for... any clothes or shoes. The cold metal of the ship's floor and the dried blood in some places made walking around on your bare feet quite uncomfortable.

Feyd-Rautha was indeed psychopathic... but it was better for you to be the devil's right hand than his mistress. And it was certainly better to inhale the toxins of Giedi Prime than to smell the flowers from underneath your grave.

You find yourself in front of a door that you don't want to go through. But you know you have to do it if you want to remain free and independent of anyone. You couldn't escape now. Not before Feyd-Rautha. You had to pay the price of your freedom with someone else's freedom. And you were ruthless enough to do it without blinking an eye. Maybe the years of living with Harkonnen really made you one of them...

You knock and enter the cave of Feyd's three harpies.

As you might expect, they don't welcome you very warmly. As soon as you close the door behind you, you hear their hisses. They stop feasting on some Fremen and glare at you, slowly approaching you.

"Relax, ladies. I'm here... to make a small agreement." You announce, taking a seat in the only chair that, surprisingly, isn't covered in anyone's blood. The women look at each other distrustfully and approach the table where you are sitting.

"Agreement?"

"With a little witch?"

"We don't make any agreements with our meals; we simply eat them."

You don't flinch at their words. Instead, you nod and draw your dagger when they get too close to you. Two of them move away automatically, but one—the oldest of them—continues to look at you. You give her a cold and dispassionate glare as you play with the blade in your fingers.

"But that's exactly what I'm talking about. About... a food. A great meal. A feast you will remember for a long time, ladies." You try your best to sound encouraging.

Their eyes light up, interested as you meet a fresh meal. You know perfectly well that they haven't eaten anything... desirable for a long time. They probably had to drag the body of this miserable man to their chamber themselves since you didn't have time to... make sure they were fed. And if there's one thing you can get on Giedi Prime with something other than power and sex, it's food.

"The little witch is planning something…"

"The little witch is up to something interesting…"

"The little witch wants to do something against our master…"

You look at them unfazed as they read that you have no clear intentions at all when it comes to working with them. But anyone who managed to survive on Giedi Prime and Arrakis was surely a man whose conscience had gone a long time ago.

And maybe your plan wasn't good for everyone... but it was definitely good for you. And Feyd. He'll agree with you... or at least you hope so. You're still not sure if his obsession with you was just a passing whim or if he really wanted to keep you with him. But you didn't want to end up like his concubines and pets.

"Possibly... but isn't that what you want? For your master to give you his attention again instead of taking care of me?" This seems to interest them even more than the promise of food.

"What do you want, little witch?" The oldest harpy asks you, looking at you carefully. You give her a mischievous, sinister smirk.

'"Have you ever thought of feasting on the Baron?" Your question hangs in the room. The harpies watch you carefully, smiling slowly and showing a row of black teeth.

Nothing united women like a common enemy.

To be continued... Taglist: (I REALLLLY hope that everyone who wanted to be here is here...😅 I;m sorry if I missed someone <3) @skymoonandstardust @prettybubblesintheair @thegabbyh @himesuedi @wo-ming-bai @beebeechaos @mamawiggers1980 @moonsoulk @avidreader73 @heartarianagran @dreamlandcreations @ancientbeing10 @lovereadingfanfic @jeansjoie @workof-a-rr-t @aixicl @ladyredstar1991 @evangelineimagine @hobobobo-fett56 @happyant3 @marsflys @aaaaaamond @kamcrazy123 @k1swass @yum-yahgurt @tyns13 @oh-you-mean-me @menari @tyns13 @vaf24 @dacreshoney @emrennoll-blog @tian-monique @slightlypossessed @celestialadrift @lauramooij05 @flaps200 @chixnugg22 @aaaaaamond @marvelfangirl04 @sw33tsnow @emeraldsgirl @imyourbubblegumpop @tempt-ress @k1swass @alana4610 @cloudroomblog @lotus-888 @lowlyloved @spoolsofgreenspoolsofblack @w3ird11 @kythefangirl25 @hobobobo-fett56 @nj452896

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