#Duke leto Atreides i x reader

[catlordewrites]

Black Herons - Ch. 8

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Taglist: @sanfransolomitatm @karolajnx0yep @joossieisdabomb @slyterinstuff

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

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

Rating: M

Word Count: 5k

Chapter Eight: Lovers’ Paradigm

Part Two

House Nastaran had fallen.

The dawn sky charred. The endless prairie burned.

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

Almost.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ironians didn’t fear the cold.

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

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

They were all she had ever known.

By now, they were all certainly dead.

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

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

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

A daughter, though, might be overlooked.

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

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

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

Trine stayed silent. Her tears cooled on her cheeks.

Ironians weren’t afraid of the cold.

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

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

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

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

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

Then again, he was only eight years old.

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

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

Duncan was pleased as well.

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

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

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

Lady Rhiannon tilted her head in consideration.

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

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

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

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

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

The Duchess smiled wistfully.

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

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

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

Lady Rhiannon sniffed.

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

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

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

He looked to his stepmother hopefully.

Rhiannon smiled.

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

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

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

“Not. I don’t believe in shields.”

“As you wi—”

Rhiannon attacked. Hard.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Rhiannon, though, wasn’t having it.

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

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

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

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

“Yes, M’Lady.”

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

“Again.”

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

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

“Move back in with me.”

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

“You know I can’t.”

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

Jessica almost wished that he would.

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

“You know why.”

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

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

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

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

She busied herself with dressing, instead.

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

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

“What, then?”

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

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

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

“I… didn’t ask to meet her sooner.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Am I supposed to know what that means?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Why do you?” She shot back.

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

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

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

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

Jessica left the room.

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

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

It read:

Sorry for being an ass.

~Rhia

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Twelve forseti. Twelve questions. Twelve truths.

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

~Rhia

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Blood.

So much blood.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I know."

Of course she did.

"How did you find out?"

Rhiannon shot him another unimpressed look.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Chantria.

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

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

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

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

I'm family too.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Very risky.

Dare she even try?

She needed time to think.

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

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

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

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

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

It was worth the risk.

#duke leto atreides x reader #duke leto x reader #duke leto x oc #leto atreides i x reader #leto atreides x reader #duke leto atreides x oc #fanfiction #dune fanfiction #Duke leto Atreides i x reader

[controld3vil]

chaotic duo

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

synopsis: requested by this ask!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"A bit yes..."

"Yeah,"

"Yes!"

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

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

"Quite a prominent beard!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

#dune #dune part one #dune x reader #dune imagine #dune 2021 #dune cast #oscar isaac #oscar issac x reader #duke leto atreides #duke leto x reader #duke leto x you #leto #leto atreides #house atreides #lady jessica #leto atreides x reader #leto atreides x you #leto atreides imagine #timothée chalamet #timothee chalamet x reader #paul atreides #paul atredies x reader #gurney halleck #duncan idaho #liet kynes #bene gesserit #REBECCA I LOVE U #fr tho #spare us #NO BETE READ UGH

[valsnotgothstuff]

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

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

#i get the appeal of the bald man trust me i do but he’s just not my thing no hate to feyd stan’s i get it #but i need something else lol #dune #dune x reader #dune imagine #dune part 2 #duke leto atreides #leto atreides #oscar isaac #stilgar #javier bardem #gurney halleck #josh brolin #lady jessica #rebecca ferguson

[campingwiththecharmings]

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

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

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

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

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

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

---

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Of course, Captain."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And you believe him, God help you.

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

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

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

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

But he surprises you yet again.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Leto.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

#leto atreides x reader #duke leto atreides x reader #my fic #i guess lol #bro i had wayyyyy too much fun with this omg #evidently my brain doesn't know what a 'little story' is a;sds;ldfk lmao

[minigirl87]

The Laird & The Lassie series Prt 1

An Au Duke Leto Atreides x F'Reader

Summary:-

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

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

Warnings:-

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

Word Count:- 5,997

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Softly she speaks to him “Hello”

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

Story photo made by me.

Borders by @cafekitsune

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

#duke leto x reader #duke leto atreides x reader #leto atreides x reader #au leto atreides x reader #au duke leto atreides x reader #oscar issac characters #i love oscar issac #dune #oscar isaac #Scottish au #duke leto atreides #duke leto atreides angst #duke leto atreides x reader angst #Spotify

[my-tin-can-mans]

Strange Hearts, Part 4 The Duke

Leto x Reader

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

Strange Hearts Spotify Playlist

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

If only that were the issue right now. 

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

_________

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

#duke leto atreides #leto atreides #leto x you #leto x reader #leto fic #oscar Issac #oscar issac x reader #duke leto x reader #Dune #dune fic #oscar issac #angst #smut #romance #i dont know #im not good at tags #apparently i love angst #im tired #i have homework to do #duke leto #leto #Leto Atredies #leto atreides x reader #duke leto atreides x reader #duke leto x you #paul atreides #leto atreides ii #dune #dune universe

[im-his-druidess]

Okay but not my mind running wild at that Dean leto and professor Anselm. So like let’s say there two buds from colllege and they live with another professor friend of Theirs who is going through a nasty devoted and could use a some genuine love from a sweet cute girl like you and so you go to their home and meet him and it’s Jonathan Levy 🌚🌝

All the bears burn 😤 like yes hello sirs I am a hole

I SWEAR we are sharing a braincell because I was JUST thinking about Jonathan Levy in this scenario 🥵🥴 

I’m a complete sucker for threesomes so this is right up my alley 🥴🥴

(Based on this post)

Like, you are their cute little fuck buddy turned serious lover who somehow finds yourself regularly bent over Professor Anselm’s desk as he rails you during your free class period or on your knees underneath Dean Leto’s desk sucking him as he goes through his paperwork. It turned into sweet dates and secret naughty love letters slipped into your bag, and waking up in an enormous bed nestled between the two or with them taking turns applying cream to the chafes left on your thighs and breasts left by their beards. So when they talk to you about their close friend, fellow Professor Jonathan Levy who is going through a nasty bitter divorce, it’s you who suggest maybe you could help. You’ve met the man in passing, seen his wild curls hiding sad eyes and you also seen the way those sad eyes lingered on your body on the rare occasions when you bumped into him in the halls, and the answering twin grins you received told you that you gave the correct answer.

That’s how you ended up spread on a coffee table, your clothes scattered around you and your panties hanging off one ankle, with the sad Professor devouring you like the world was ending. His beard scratching against your thighs in the most intoxicating way as his jaw worked against you and the sounds he made were downright obscene. He wasn’t shy and he was messy. 

“Fuck, I missed eating pussy,” he groaned hoarsely against you, making you whimper at his words and at the way he dragged his tongue through your dripping folds as if he were savoring every single drop you gave him, “you taste so good, sweetheart.”

He dragged two orgasms from you with his mouth before he finally sank his cock inside you, the thick delicious stretch of him nearly making you delirious with pleasure, and then he’s moaning in your ear how good and sweet you feel wrapped around him as he drills into you. His beard scraps against your throat and breasts, his touch seeming to be everywhere at once, and you let yourself be swept away by the euphoria that hijacks your brain and overtakes your body. It isn’t until you are laying on the plush ornate rug with Jonathan curled around you, placing delicate kisses over your shoulder and neck, that you realize your other two lovers have joined the room. They are drinking from crystal tumblers and sitting in ornate chairs, talking amongst themselves quietly and completely at ease, and you realize that Jonathan’s body is utterly slack against yours. All the tension that he usually carried was gone and you couldn’t help but giggle at the thought that you helped him fuck the stress away.

“Looks like our darling is awake,” Anselm said, peering at you from over the rim of his glass as all eyes shot to you, and you felt warm fingers smooth your sweat damp hair back from your face.

“Glad you’re back. I was worried I was...too rough,” Jonathan murmured softly while pressing an almost apologetic kiss to a bruised bitemark on your shoulder and you cuddled back further into his warm embrace with a happy sound at the slight sting between your thighs.

“I wouldn’t worry if I were you, my friend. She may look sweet and delicate as a flower, but she can take quite a pounding,” Leto said simply, making your face heat at his words, and his dark eyes twinkled as he stared at you and you were positive he was reminiscing over the few times when he had pounded you.

You clenched your thighs together with a whimper, you exhausted body heating up once more, and you felt curious fingers trail down your waist and dip between your thighs. Jonathan hissed a breath when he found you already slick and ready.

“Oh, I know that look. Well then...let’s not keep her waiting,” Leto continued as he finished his drink, slinking down to the ground where you were still curled up with Jonathan who used his grip on your body to spread you open, and Anselm settled back in his chair and openly palmed himself with delight as he appeared to enjoy the show happening in front of him.

#why am i like this #Duke Leto Atreides #jonathan levy #Anselm Vogelweide #Duke Leto Atreides x Reader #jonathan levy x reader #anselm vogelweide x reader #duke leto atreides headcanon #Jonathan Levy headcanon #anselm vogelweide headcanons #dune 2021 #scenes from a marriage #scenes from a marriage headcanon #big gold brick #big gold brick headcanons #wicked wednesday #oscar isaac #oscar isaac headcanons #oscar issac x reader #the cryptid answers

[the-witheredroses]

Oscar Isaac Characters Eating You Out

Minors DNI

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

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

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

(Lmk if you want more in the future)

Miguel O’Hara - Across the Spiderverse

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

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

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

You’re in his office? Bend over.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Marc Spector / Steven Grant / Jake Lockley - Moon Knight

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You did so good for me, darling…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“So pretty… so pretty…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Soft kisses and cuddling definitely ensue afterwards.

“Our beautiful darling…”

Basil Stitt - Lightningface

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

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

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

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

As he tastes you, he desperately chases your climax.

He needs you to feel good. He needs you.

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

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

“Imsosorry… staywithmeplease…”

Anselm Vogelweide - Big Gold Brick

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Blue Jones - Sucker Punch

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Poe Dameron - Star Wars

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Nathan Bateman - Ex Machina

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Get up. It’s my turn.”

Duke Leto Atreides - Dune

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Prince John - Robin Hood (2010)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

John pats his shoulder.

“Come, rest your head.”

Santiago “Pope” Garcia - Triple Frontier

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—————————————————

Thanks for reading!

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

#miguel o'hara smut #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o’hara x you #moon knight x reader #moon knight smut #moon knight x you #basil stitt smut #basil stitt x reader #anselm vogelweide smut #anselm vogelweide x reader #blue jones smut #blue jones x reader #blue jones x you #poe dameron smut #poe dameron x reader #poe dameron x you #nathan bateman smut #nathan bateman x reader #nathan bateman x you #duke leto atreides smut #duke leto atreides x reader #duke leto atreides x you #prince john x reader #prince john smut #santiago garcia smut #santiago garcia x reader #santiago garcia x you #oscar isaac characters #smut

[catlordewrites]

Black Herons - Ch. 7

@slytherisstuff @sanfransolomitatm @karolajnx0yep @joossieisdabomb

Masterlist - Ao3 - First Chapter - Previous Chapter - Next Chapter

A/N: Sorry this took so long. Been busy etc. Also this chapter is much shorter than I originally intended it to be… but it was getting too long and unmanageable and I was starting to not like the vibe, so I’ve split it in two. Maybe three. Idk we’ll see what happens when I finish Ch 8.

A/N: Also I just want to say that I’ve been floored by the number of positive responses to this story. Honestly at the beginning I didn’t think there was any call for Black Herons. But I’ve gotten so many comments and follows (even from people who aren’t necessarily in the Dune fandom). It blows my mind. So thank you to everyone who reads and interacts with Black Herons. It really makes me so happy to know there are people out there who love Rhiannon as much as I do ❤️

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

Rating: M

TW: Mentions of sexual assault.

Word count: 3.6k

Chapter Seven: Lovers’ Paradigm

Part One

Under an overcast sky, heavy mist rolled off the cliffs and towards the sea. Rhiannon walked the rocky path leading away from the Castle Caladan and the village below it, comfortably unobtrusive in her trousers and long woolen overcoat. Not that she was in disguise, but where she was headed, ‘Duchess’ was the last thing she intended to be.

Two months had given her ample time to become acquainted with her role as Duchess; by now she knew how and when to cast the role aside. She had walked this path enough to know when it was and wasn’t occupied, and knew how long she could get away with being off of Castle grounds without her security before Hawat sent people after her.

Rhiannon also knew that the comm device behind her ear doubled as a tracker, and that the Master of Assassins was monitoring her movements closely. It was a little annoying, but a reasonable concession for this amount of freedom.

Turning her collar up against the sea winds, Rhiannon rounded the bluff and picked her way down the slope towards the lonely house squatting low on the hillside. The house had a well-kept, but battered look about it, with its mismatched storm shutters and chipping paint bleached by salt and wind.

In a small paddock beside the house, an old brown horse snuffled around in the coarse grass. Rhiannon reached into her coat pocket and produced a few apple slices filched from the Castle kitchen, which the horse munched happily while she rubbed his velvety nose.

The door to the laundry shed opened on creaking hinges and a woman bearing a wicker basket of folded linen on her hip bustled out into the yard. She was young—only in her early thirties—but hard work and constant stress had worn frown lines into her lovely face and threaded silver through her raven black hair.

The woman stopped and blinked with surprise to see Rhiannon standing there. Then her face lit up with a dazzling smile that dissolved the additional years.

Miriam ‘Mim’ Trussell, the daughter of a Guild banker, had been born into a wealthy Caladanian family. When she grew up, however, she had the misfortune of falling in love with a lower class businessman and known swindler. Naturally, her family had disapproved and, when their rebellious daughter eloped, promptly disowned her.

For a few years, Mim had been happy with her life; she moved into her husband’s family home outside of Cala City, where she raised their two children while he worked. Over time, her husband lost interest in his wife and children. He moved to Cala City permanently, only sending meager amounts of money when he happened to remember that he had a family.

With nowhere else to turn, Mim was forced to scratch out a living as a seamstress, and often struggled to keep her children clothed and fed. Not anymore, though. Now, her kitchen was well stocked with fresh food and her children wore clothes that fit.

Mim put the basket on the ground and, smiling shyly, came over to lean up and give Rhiannon a kiss. Rhiannon was fairly tall, and Mim was fairly short; Mim had to stand on her toes to do it, which entertained Rhiannon to no end.

“Have I fallen so far in your favor that you visit the horse before you visit me?” Mim pouted, her gray eyes bright and playful.

“I do like horses,” Rhiannon conceded, amused. She rubbed the hand not preoccupied with holding Mim to her side along the white blaze on the horse’s face. “How long has Arno been favoring that leg?”

“I don’t know. I hadn’t noticed.”

Rhiannon hummed thoughtfully. The mild and grizzled Arno was a far cry from the massive warhorses her father had kept during her youth, but he was enough to make her sentimental.

She pressed a kiss to Mim’s temple.

“His shoe may be coming loose. Remind me before I leave, and I’ll take a look at it before I go.”

Mim looked up at her through her eyelashes. “And when will that be?”

“A few hours. You have me until lunch.”

Rhiannon hadn’t spoken to her husband about pursuing outside relationships, but was certain that he knew. At their station, discretion was paramount—the last thing House Atreides needed was someone spreading rumors that the Duchess was a whore. No one, not even the servants, could suspect impropriety.

At the same time, Rhiannon wasn’t exactly keeping it a secret. If Hawat wasn’t keeping close tabs on the people within striking range of those he served, he wouldn’t be deserving of his job title.

Hawat, of course, reported everything to Leto.

Mim wasn’t the first lover she had taken since her marriage to Leto; Rhiannon had waited a month—a perfectly fair amount of time, in her opinion—for Leto and Jessica to work out their situation enough for him to revisit his relationship with his wife.

When he hadn't, Rhiannon considered the company of others fair game. There had been a few brief encounters with a visiting ambassador—an attractive man with an overbearing wife who gave him even more reasons to keep quiet about bedding a foreign duchess than Rhiannon had—and another with an actor from Jongleur, who also understood discretion.

Leto had said nothing, but had been a bit terse with her for a while afterwards.

She was a little sad to have upset him, but it couldn’t be helped. Being celibate for months or years until her husband felt comfortable fulfilling her sexual needs wasn’t an option. If he wanted to discuss his feelings with her, she’d happily listen, but otherwise his emotions were his own problem.

“I’ll be leaving for Ahmes in a few days,” Rhiannon explained as she carried Mim’s discarded basket inside. “I’ll try to stop by again before then, but if I can’t, I’ll arrange for someone to come along and check on you in a week or so. If something happens, go to the castle and ask for Mariona. She’ll take care of anything you need.”

Mim took Rhiannon’s hands and guided her into her bedroom. The room was small and practical; within it was a bed covered with handmade quilts, a dresser with a mirror, and a rocking chair occupied by yet another basket of half-finished sewing. Rhiannon sat on the edge of the bed, and Mim sidled into her lap, straddling her.

During the walk, the strong winds had tugged strands of hair free from Rhiannon’s updo. Mim gently brushed them away from her face.

“You sound as if you expect to be away for a long time.”

Rhiannon smoothed her hands along Mim’s spine. “I’m not sure how long, exactly. Conferences are unpredictable. Probably a couple of weeks, though.”

Disappointment flickered briefly across Mim’s face.

“Such a fabulous life you live,” she murmured sadly.

The time they spent together was precious to the hardworking mother. A flare of romance suitable for a filmbook to brighten an otherwise lackluster life.

Sympathetic, Rhiannon leaned in and kissed her soundly, determined to chase away whatever negative thoughts were swimming through her lover’s mind.

Their relationship had started the same way that many of Rhiannon’s had. During one of Rhiannon’s scheduled public outings in Cala City, she’d visited several local businesses. The haberdashery where Mim worked was one of them. It had been sheer luck that Mim had been there that day, at the exact time Rhiannon was; Mim was rarely actually in the store—she, like many of the seamstresses the shop employed, did the bulk of their work at home.

Mim had been shy, beaten down by the years of abandonment and dead ends. But Rhiannon was a keen observer, and she had caught the way the silent seamstress’s eyes had followed her—full of the kind of longing that couldn’t be explained by envy or simple admiration for the Duchess of Caladan. Rhiannon had found Mim attractive too, and decided to do something about it.

“Tell me what I can bring you back from Ahmes,” Rhiannon asked once she had teased the smile and flush back into Mim’s lovely face.

“I don’t know,” Mim mumbled against Rhiannon’s lips. Their arrangement was still fairly new, and Mim hadn’t yet had the time to get comfortable asking for things. For now, Rhiannon was happy to infer her desires, but she still looked forward to the time when Mim felt secure. “I’ve never been. What‘s Ahmes like?”

“I haven’t been there either. Fairly warm and sunny, I’m told.”

Mim had only ever known the misty seas of Caladan. “That sounds nice.”

“Caladan is already too warm for my tastes. I still have too much Ironian ice in my blood. On Ahmes, I may melt.”

Mim’s quiet laugh warmed Rhiannon through.

This relationship would also end the same way many of Rhiannon’s had; the circumstances would change and one or both of them would move on, or they would want more than Rhiannon was able to give. It was always bittersweet, but Rhiannon didn’t mind the impermanence.

For a while, at least, she had someone to care for. Because even though she wasn’t entirely certain that she was capable of love, it comforted her to know that she could at least make someone feel loved. Free of politics or schemes or violence.

No ulterior motives, only tenderness.

Viscount Emilian Dering sat across from his daughter as the ground car bumped along the cobblestone roads. Farther into Varvara lands. Farther from home and safety.

Rhia sat primly in her seat. Her long hair cascaded down her shoulders, pulled back at the temples by a diamond encrusted clip. Dressed in the finest silks money could buy, she looked exactly as a young noblewoman should.

She was quiet, which was rare. Even though her poise was immaculate, she practically vibrated with energy. Nervous. Excited. Anxious for a new beginning.

She didn’t know that it would more likely be the end.

Since she was eight, she had performed many of the functions as Lady of House Dering. A great burden for someone so young, but she had risen to the occasion. But as she grew older, the limitations of performing duties without the authority began to frustrate her. In the last five years or so, her relationship to her father had become strained. They argued often. Over anything and everything. About her brother, mostly. And politics.

Now twenty, she was ready for a new adventure. Her own Household. Freedom. A title. Perhaps even love.

Guilt twisted in the old patriarch’s stomach.

Keeping the truth from her hadn’t been easy.

For the first time in many years, he allowed himself to study her features. Memorize them. There was so much of Rhosyn about her—Vidar genes were stubborn. Rhia had the height and lean build. The dark eyes and strong jaw. But it went deeper than that. Hotheaded. Cunning. Fearless. From her mother and her mother’s mother, she had inherited a fiery temper, rugged determination, and lethal intellect.

During the negotiations that had ended with Emilian taking Rhosyn as his wife, Rhosyn’s father had said, “Her mother’s a full blooded Dweller, lad. That’s one way to inject a little fire and piss into your bloodline!”

Fire and piss. Rhiannon had absorbed her lessons on politics and military strategy. Now, she regularly outwitted her father’s most seasoned advisors. After years of training, she had mastered the sword—preferring the combat style of Clan Vidar; even now, she wore her grandmother’s vambraces, swirling gold wlysteel emblazoned with the Vidar crest.

What a waste.

Rhiannon looked away from the window and caught her father watching her. She gave him a rare smile, which he forced himself to return.

Their enemies were becoming more aggressive by the day. House Dering needed the military might of House Varvara to survive.

No matter how much they fought, Emilian loved his daughter. But he also had a young son. His heir was the future, and Emilian had to ensure that the House Dering that young Larion inherited was stable enough to survive another generation.

Survival was expensive, and Rhia was the price.

Hopefully, he would survive the guilt.

The message came during lunch.

Leto was picking at a plate of smoked fish and vegetables when a courier wearing the official yellow and green uniform of House Adelio found him in the courtyard, led there by Thufir Hawat.

Leto accepted the sealed message cylinder and processed a thumbprint receipt. When the courier had gone, Leto cracked open the cylinder and read the message inside while Hawat took his seat at the small table to wait. When he finished reading, he passed the message to the Mentat.

“Most unfortunate timing, M’Lord,” Hawat said. “Baron Adelio writes as though the plans for the Trade Summit will be unaffected. But such an attack will have changed the dynamics considerably. Perhaps, M’Lord, it would be best to forgo the Summit entirely.”

Meal forgotten, Leto absently tapped his fork against the table.

“No… I think that would be premature. We’ll need to tighten our security for the trip, of course.” He paused, considering. “Where is the Duchess? She’ll need to coordinate with any changes we make.”

Hawat’s expression didn’t change. “The Lady Atreides visited the village this morning. She seems to be running behind schedule, but she is en route to the castle as we speak.”

Though he was no longer hungry, Leto turned his attention back to his plate and stabbed at the fish moodily. Rhiannon had told him from the beginning that she would take lovers if he wasn’t up to the task, but he would be lying if he said that there wasn’t a small part of him that had hoped that she would wait for him.

Leto could say or do nothing to prevent her from seeking company—he’d given her permission to take lovers even before they met. But it did nothing to soften the shock and hurt he’d felt when Hawat told him of his new wife’s conquests. And just when he thought he had made peace with the idea of Rhiannon taking casual lovers, she had started regularly visiting a woman—Leto still hadn’t decided how he felt about that—who lived outside of the village below the Castle. 

Rhiannon’s behavior towards Leto hadn’t changed, but he couldn’t help but worry. Would she still want to be with him when the time came? What if she fell in love with someone else and no longer wanted to explore her relationship with her husband?

Eventually, Leto realized that he was only upsetting himself over the things that might be, instead of focusing on matters of the present. Deciding that it was in everyone’s best interest if he knew as little about his wife’s exploits as possible, Leto passed the responsibility of monitoring the Duchess’s affairs into Hawat’s capable hands, and did his best to think no more of it.

“Yes, well…” Leto started, shaking his head to clear it. “When the Duchess gets back, inform her of the situation and tell her to—”

“Tell the Duchess what?”

Rhiannon, who had seemingly materialized into the center of the courtyard, was striding towards them, tugging off her fine leather gloves and tucking them into her coat pocket. She was composed and graceful as ever, but a few streaks of drying mud marred one of her thighs and the insides of her coat sleeves at the wrist.

“M’Lady.” Hawat stood and bowed respectfully. “Shall I send the Commerce Minister a message to inform him that the Duchess will be somewhat late to their scheduled meeting?”

“I’ve already rescheduled it, but thank you,” Rhiannon said brightly. Then, by way of an explanation, added, “I was shoeing a horse.”

There were many aspects of having a Duchess that had caught Leto by surprise. Being able to pass off some of his Royal duties, for one; the strange relationship that had developed between the Duchess and the Chief of Security, for another.

Rhiannon and Hawat seemed to be locked in a (hopefully friendly) battle of wits and information that Leto didn’t understand at all. He had no idea how it worked or who was winning, but was extremely grateful that he hadn’t been asked to take sides.

“That explains the mud,” Leto commented, hoping to distract from Hawat’s sour expression. Leto offered Rhiannon the message from Baron Adelio, then explained as she read. “House Belgrave has invaded one of the Adelio holdings. House Adelio has declared kanly, but the Summit seems to be going forward as planned.”

“It all sounds very dramatic,” Rhiannon said absently, still reading. “I take it we’re going anyway?”

“A large sum of House Adelio’s income is generated by the Summit. If House Atreides backs out, others will too. Octavius is an old friend of my father’s. It… wouldn’t be right to pull out just when he needs the support.”

“Of course, M’Lord.” Hawat looked serious. “But the Belgrave invasion was clearly timed to interfere with the Trade Summit. We need to consider the possibility that there may be another attack while the Summit is in session.”

Rhiannon, who had settled in one of the empty seats, stole Leto’s fork and poached a few of the roasted vegetables off his plate. He pushed the plate closer to her so she could help herself.

“I know Belgrave and Adelio are ancestral enemies,” Rhiannon mused, “but what’s our relationship to Belgrave? As in, if there is an attack, how likely are we to be targets?”

Hawat’s gaze turned inwards, sifting through his vast reservoirs of information.

“Summary: House Atreides has no direct links to House Belgrave. However, in the past the Atreides have lent both fiscal and military aid to House Adelio during conflicts with Belgrave. Projection: House Atreides is likely to be indirectly targeted during an attack, but unlikely to be subjected to direct targeting.”

“We’ll need to have several solid extraction plans ready.” Rhiannon looked at Leto. “You also need to figure out what kind of resources you’re willing to pour into Adelio before we get there.”

Leto frowned. “I’ve made no promises to Adelio, and the Baron hasn’t asked that I make any.”

“All the same. House Belgrave is much larger and more powerful than House Adelio. Your father was Baron Adelio’s friend. He will ask. And we’ll be much better off if you have your answer prepared.”

Surprisingly, Hawat agreed with her. “The eyes of the Landsraad will be on this conflict, M’Lord. I advise caution.”

“Agreed,” Leto said. “I’ll consider our options carefully before I agree to anything. For now, updating our security measures is more pressing.” His eyes fixed on Hawat. “Give me an analysis: where are our weakest points?”

Rhiannon settled back to listen, eyes sharp and unblinking.

Rhiannon Varvara hadn’t been a virgin, but she was bleeding anyway. Between her legs, but also her lip, her head, and from a rather deep cut on her thigh.

Physical pains, she could handle. She’d always been tough. Worse than the blood was the confusion. Anger. Humiliation.

She wasn’t someone who allowed herself to be bullied; when the encounters with her new husband turned into something she didn’t enjoy, she fought back. Even as the days turned into weeks, and weeks into months, she kept fighting.

And every time, Bence Varvara tried to put her in her place. When he couldn’t manage her on his own, he brought guards in to help. Had them beat her within an inch of consciousness, or hold her down, or even use her while her husband looked on, amused.

Wife number six was an interesting challenge.

To Count Bence Varvara, it was a game. One that he had played with all five of the wives that had been before Rhiannon. He used them until they broke. And then he got bored, and disposed of them.

But Rhiannon was a survivor.

Even at night, Arrakis sweltered.

The air was dry in the way that old bones are. Rough and thirsty. It dragged at the skin like sandpaper, clinging to any exposed tissues and begging for a drink.

Not many people dared to go outside without a Stillsuit. Only the ignorant and the rich.

Chantria was neither.

Her skin was soft and supple, water-fat and protected from the harsh wind blowing in from the desert by expensive creams and lotions. But she moved through the darkened streets of Arrakeen with expert precision, clinging to the shadows along the walls and alleys like a cat.

She wasn’t rich, but the brothel that employed her was. The revealing chiffon clothes draped about her marked her as an expensive whore, but the symbol tattooed to her wrist in dark ink was a constant reminder of with whom her true loyalties lay.

Chantria didn’t always understand her orders. Her Mistress’ interest in Arrakis—in the Fremen, specifically—seemed a bit preposterous. But it wasn’t her place to direct the master schemes.

The Mistress needed a liaison. A spy. A soldier. Someone clever enough to see what needed to be done, and then had the courage to do it. Tough enough to survive Arrakis. Scrappy enough to survive the Harkonnens. Loyal enough to trust.

Chantria was every one of those things. And more.

When she arrived at the rugged house near the outskirts of the city, the smile Chantria painted on her lovely face was as good as genuine. She was intensely proud of the work she did, and establishing the connections needed to be one of the girls sent to entertain the brothel’s Fremen customers had taken time.

Making connections through the Fremen she serviced would be even more difficult, but Chantria was up to the challenge.

#duke leto atreides x reader #leto atreides x reader #duke leto x reader #oc #fanfic #duke leto atreides x oc #duke leto x oc #leto atreides i x reader #dune

[cosmictheo]

𝐒𝐄𝐂𝐑𝐄𝐓𝐒 | feyd-rautha

( gif credits to @wondrousashes )

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Have you been with someone else like this?”

There was another one of your little questions again.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Have you been with other women?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“My lord—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I'm trying to be good...”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Were you seriously jealous of my darlings?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

#feyd rautha x reader #cosmictheo #feyd rautha one shot #feyd rautha x you #feyd rautha imagine #feyd rautha #feyd rautha harkonnen #dune x reader #dune 2 #dune imagine #austin butler x reader

[plutoswritingplanet]

It's A Special Death You Saved (Feyd Rautha Harkonnen x Female!Reader) pt.1

a/n: i had a "no bald men" rule before he licked a knife... so y'all know my priorities are in order. Cross-Posted on AO3

Warnings: Dub-Con (as per usual), Arranged Marriage, Reader is an Atreides (it's just such a good prompt i couldn't help myself),

Summary: A month-long engagement to the na-Baron Harkonnen makes you question, whether a marriage can bloom on the grounds of hate. Loosely based on "Special Death" by Mirah.

Pt.2, Pt.3 Pt.4 (finale)

The message comes from the Emperor himself. An indisputable order that renders your Father speechless. You've never seen him quite as distraught, as when he has visited you in your chambers to deliver the news. Hands fidgeting, eyes refusing to meet yours, heavy shadows falling across his face. He seems to expect your reaction, not giving you as much as a flinch, when you scream your protests at him. And he should've expected as much, you were always the more impulsive of Duke Leto's children. 

- But the Harkonnens are beasts - you argue, voice breaking - You've said it yourself, many times.

- Actually, I think that was Gurney...

- You've never denied it!

And he doesn't deny it now, head hung low. Never, not once in your life, have you seen your Father give up. Until today. 

Your Mother enters just a few seconds after him, her dress flowing around her ankles as if she had floated in on a cloud. She stands to the side of your bed, hands folded, and an impassive expression embedded onto her features. And the more she speaks of the centuries of breeding, the importance of an union and the powers beyond your understanding, the less you see of your mother. What stands before you, instead, is a Bene Gesserit sister, veiled in schemes and dark plans, which were in the making before you were even born. You curse yourself for not noticing this stranger sooner, and storm off, out of your room, your shawl blowing out behind you like bat wings.

Paul doesn't visit you, but you can hear him, even through the effort of swallowing down your tears. He fights for you against your Father. He would fight for you against the whole Empire if he had to, and your heart swells, as he throws a particularly nasty curse into the air of your Father's study. It doesn't change anything. According to the decree of the Emperror, the oldest daughter of the Duke Leto Atreides will marry Feyd Rautha, an heir to the Baron Harkonnen. A centuries long dispute is about to be put to an end, and all thanks to the small sacrifice, which is your life. All would be well in the galaxy. Really, you should be honored, to be tasked with such a monumental peace treaty.

Everyone in the court seems to know about your situation. Mournful looks follow you, as you walk into the training barracks, ridding yourself of layers upon layers of flowing fabrics, leaving you in a rather tight costume, light enough to beat your frustrations out on someone.

Duncan Idaho meets your searching eyes, and you know he is aware as well. All it takes is one inclination of your chin, and he's up on his feet, sword in hand. Loyal as ever, he stands in front of you, watches with mixed feelings as you enable your shield, no questions asked. None needed. 

He barely has time to put his defenses up, when you charge at him, fury and despair pushing your movements into stances which are clumsy and ill though out. Still, there's power within your strikes, a strength of someone who needs to move, unless they break. So he lets you, for a couple of minutes. He dodges your attacks, pairing some of them, never moving quite into the offense.

The rest of the soldiers scurry off somewhere, for which you will be thankful in the future. They might hear your cries of anger, but they will not see you break. They will not see the way your blade smashes into Duncan's shield over and over again, with no regard for the slow attacks, which would penetrate it. Likewise, they don't see your sparring partner fall to his knees and swipe you off your feet in a split-second movement, making you hit the floor with a frustrated snarl. And they don't see you finally give up, and cry, hugging your blade to your chest, the severity of your circumstance falling onto you, crushing you down.

- Never fight in anger, Princess - Duncan reminds you, voice cautious, and you growl at him like a wild animal - It dulls your instincts, makes you distracted.

- Did you know? - you demand, your sharp voice cutting through his half-assed lecture.

For a moment he looks truly remorseful. His eyes float around the room, and your heart sinks when he sighs deeply.

- I found out not long ago - he confesses - Your Father told me. 

Your blade slides against the floor as you throw it, a raw scream tearing through your throat. Duncan takes a step towards you, hand extended towards your shaking form. But, before he can attempt to touch you, you're up, rolling your shoulders forcefully. Tears stain your cheeks, and you wipe them roughly with the back of your hand, skin becoming irritated almost instantly. There are swords laid out on a small table, just beside you,  your fingers grip the cold handle so hard, your knuckles seem to creak under the pressure. Duncan readies himself as well, dusting off his trousers. 

He's not good at comforting, but he's the best at fighting, and if that's what you need in this cold morning, he'll oblige. 

- You'll make it through, you know - he says, his voice genuine, and you laugh without any mirth.

Your blades clash, faces coming closer as you absentmindedly notice small scars adorning his cheeks.

- You can adapt to anything - you strike against his shoulder, the shield pushes your blade away - We could send you to Arrakis right now, and a week later you'd be riding a damned Sandworm into battle.

To that, you laugh, this time your smile reaching your eyes. The idea is preposterous, but it renders your footsteps lighter, and you twist to dodge a nasty blow to the right arm. Duncan huffs a laugh as well, as you slip through his fingers. He points his blade in your direction, a smirk playing across his lips, and you bare your teeth in a playful display of wildness.

- Careful, Princess, you might scare your betrothed away - Duncan teases, as you roll your dagger in your hand.

- Scare a damned Harkonnen? Do you find me that intimidating? - the idea thrills you just a little bit, you're woman enough to admit it.

- I think you're fucking terrifying.

- Duncan Idaho, you better not be swearing at my Daughter.

Your face falls immediately, as your Father approaches the two of you, shooting Duncan a stern gaze which holds no real threat. Still, your sparring partner raises his hands, his blade tucked away safely into his belt. There's sweat clinging to your skin from all the training, mingling with drying tears on your cheeks, and Duke Leto tries very hard not to comment on your choice of processing recent events. Still, he nods at you, and like a good daughter, you put your blade away, walking from the barracks after him. 

***

The Emperor has called for a traditional, Atreides engagement. A mercy, which you're eternally grateful for. You're not too aware of Harkonnen customs regarding marriage, but given the House's reputation, it couldn't have been pleasant. House Atreides however, took to such matters much more ceremonially, old-fashioned to some. 

Soon, a ship is arriving, with your betrothed onboard, and a month-long courting period willcommence. After that, official engagement and soon after, a wedding. Then, you will be transported back on Geidis Prime, where a life of misery awaits. That's all the time you have. A month.  

The dress, which was picked out for you, is uncomfortable and shows both too much and too little skin at the same time. While your legs are bare and exposed to an almost scandalous degree, a high, stiff collar nearly chokes the life out of you. This whole getup was the idea of your mother, as an attempt to highlight your best features and hide all that might be considered less desirable. 

You have no idea what's wrong with your neck. Perhaps, by cutting off your airflow, your mother aimed to keep you docile. 

She frowns deeply as you tug on the fabric, nerves climbing up your spine, growing more desperate every second. She swats at your hand, and you throw her a look. Out of the corner of your eye Paul smiles at your antics, your only consolation in this hopeless place. 

- Stop fidgeting, you'll tear the dress - Lady Jessica scolds you, and you can sense actual worry underlining her stern voice.

The Harkonnen ship slowly glides into the atmosphere of your home planet, a black, awful thing. Like all things on Geidis Prime, dark and miserable. Soon, you'll join them, adorned in equally black and lifeless clothing, never to see your family again. Never to see the Ocean. Your nails bite into the collar of the dress, you can hear a stitch tear.

- Stop that.

Your hands fall uselessly against your body, as your mother uses the Voice on you. Wouldn't be the first time, you were quite the unruly daughter and Lady Jessica was determined to make a Lady out of you no matter the means. Still, this time, the unnatural tone feels more like a panicked plea,  than a light-hearted scolding. 

- Relax Mother - your voice is sharp, despite the slight tremble - In a months time I'll be gone from here forever, stuck in some blackened cell, wistfully sighing "ooh" "aah".

You place your hand on your forehead in a dramatic display of doubtful acting abilities. When you were younger, your mother would laugh at you, as you enacted scenes from romance books. You would throw yourself at a nearby piece of furniture, pretending to be some wronged lover, or an unhappy bride waiting for someone to liberate her. And your mother would clap her hands, thoroughly entertained.

Today however, she doesn't even crack a smile.

- I don't expect you to be happy about all this - she whispers - But I do expect you to wear your grief with some grace.

A slap would've been kinder, you think, and stare ahead, as the Harkonnen ship opens, and a group of people dressed in black spill out of it like ants from a drowning anthill. Your heart is thrumming hard in your chest, and your hand reaches out, despite all your apprehension, towards your mother. A force of habit, to search consolation within her disregarding the fact, that it was her meddling that put you here. 

Her fingers lace with yours, thumb stroking your palm in an attempt to soothe you. 

Immediately, you know which one of the bald headed Harkonnen is your betrothed. 

He's much taller than you, an imposing figure even despite his rather lean built. His skin is almost completely white, as expected, his teeth are blackened out, as expected as well, and his eyes are bearing into you with an intensity so oppressing, you almost look away. Almost. 

- I present to you, Feyd Rautha, the na-Baron of House Harkonnen. 

The pale man steps forward, releasing you from his gaze for only just a moment, to trade pleasantries with your Father, who looks beyond miserable as he fixes your soon-to-be husband with a tired look. Then, Feyd Rautha is brought before you.

There's grace to his movements you did not expect, as he pushes his black cloak aside, and kneels in front of you. Harkonnen were known for their bulky ruthlessness, but this one... This one reminded you of a panther, the way his eyes travelled the length of your body, full lips pulling upward into a barely noticable smirk. 

Customs, you remind yourself, as your mother's hand squeezes your fingers. You don't want to let her go, but you do, slowly, with so many mixed thoughts rattling around your brain, it makes your head swim. 

Feyd Rautha grabs your extended hand in such a gentle manner, you're almost convinced the Harkonnens have shaved some poor bastard and dropped him off instead of the real na-Baron. Then, he lifts your palm up, until his lips press against your fingertips, a gesture so tender, your heart does a flip in your chest. And then, it stops all together, when his grip on your palm tightens, and he pulls your hand closer, to kiss it properly. As if he can't help himself, he looks up at you, and you realize. 

You almost got yourself caught, but reading people's intentions have been taught to you as fervently as reading texts, and you can see right through this facade of chivalry. There's darkness in this man, a swirling void, which brings a wave of cold fear upon you. This cunning, depraved creature will soon enough become your husband, and you'll be stuck with him forever. How long will he keep up this impeccable appearence? Was this performence for you, your Father, his own twisted fun, or all the things combined?

With a furrowed brow, you tear your hand out of his grasp, a full body shiver running up your spine at the sight of his self-satisfied smirk. He drinks up your reactions like a man parched, and you fight hard to put on a mask of indifference, as he rises from his knees to stand before you in all his imposing glory.

***

You can feel his eyes follow you, as the welcome committee retreats into the Palace. He doesn't let you out of his sight throughout the feast, which takes place immediately after his arrival, and even now, as he gets ready to "entertain" the court by indulging in some barbaric ceremony of his, his eyes are trained only on you. 

It's uncomfortable, to say the least, having him stare at you, while you sit surrounded by your family, who, for the most part, say nothing. Except Paul. Your dear baby brother, your protector in all this madness. As Feyd Rautha throws his coat to the side, showing off his (admittedly impressive) muscles, Paul leans towards you.

- He looks like a hard boiled egg, don't you think sister? - he whispers and subsequently ends your vow of silence. 

The giggle you let out is caught quickly by everyone around, your betrothed included, before you press an open palm against your lips. 

- Behave - your mother warns, and you try, you really do.

But in the serene light of the fading sun, your soon-to-be husband's head does look frighteningly egg-ish. God, you'll get yourself killed, before the wedding ceremony is even resolved if you keep this up.

You're seated high in an outdoor theater. One of your grandfather's favorite places, where he used to dance with bulls for sport. Where he met his demise.

Feyd Rautha presents his knives to you and your family, their blades glint ominously in the setting sun. Again, you are struck with the sheer grace this man exudes. His movements, despite being forceful and wild, have a beauty to them, as if he was rehearsing ancient dance moves, rather than killing blows.

And, despite your brother's earlier comment, there is something enticing in the way his pale skin catches the rays of bleeding sunshine, slowly creeping towards the horizon. He's almost beautiful, almost handsome enough to consider. 

The thought leaves your head almost immediately, as the Harkonnen servants bring in his apparent opponent. Your heart drops to your stomach at the sight of a beaten, dark skinned warrior. Immediately you recognize a Fremen, you've read so much about them in your free time. You know how they filter water, what they eat, how they move through the sands, and despite your knowledge you can't fathom, why this poor man has been brought here. 

At your side, Paul shifts in his seat, all jokes leaving him in a hurry. The both of you watch, as the man you're promised to toys with a clearly drugged victim. Slashes bloom on the prisoners skin, blood sprays in the air. You refuse to look away, to show such weakness, even as Feyd Rautha grabs the poor man by his hair and with a forceful push impales his throat on the blade. Blood pours down onto the sand, paints the Harkonnen's face and chest a deep shade of red.

It's a brutal display of power, of cruelty and wildness the Harkonnens are known for. Suddenly, everything Gurney has warned you about, while training your fighting skills, rings like a thousand of bells in your ears. This is who you will marry, who you will spend your entire life with. 

You swallow down an urge to throw up, and stand up from your seat. 

The show must go on, you think, throwing your Mother one, venomous look, trying to force her to understand your pain. Then, you lock eyes with your betrothed, who watches you from below with a cruel smile, blackened teeth on full display. You meant to congratulate him, to play the part as instructed, but you can do nothing of the sort. Instead, you stare back at him, disgust flowing from your features like a broken faucet. 

Lady Jessica opens her mouth, but before she can, without a doubt, scold you again, you're out of the seating area, your footsteps echoing in the halls. 

Once you're sufficiently tucked away from prying eyes, your back hits the wall, and you allow yourself feel the luxury of unbridled panic. Your breathing comes out in fast, shallow pants, as cold sweat forms on your forehead. Thoughts racing, your fingers tangle into your hair, tugging at the roots. This is your future, the only future waiting for you, and it's filled wth pain and blood.

- Have you enjoyed the fight, my Lady? - you immediately know it's him, despite not hearing him speak before.

A gasp of surprise leaves you before you can catch it, and your back straightens almost painfully fast. 

There he stands, tall and lean, and terrifying. Blood still decorates his torso creating a contrast that is both terrifying and hypnotizing. He watches you, curiosity and humor swirling behind his eyes. You can't decide whether they are completely blackened out, or if they hold a blue, almost serene hue. 

- No - you answer, finding your voice entirely too shaky for your liking - I did not enjoy it.

He laughs, a guttural, low sound that makes the hair stand at the back of your neck. You know he wouldn't dare try anything here, right under your Father's nose while the engagement is still in the making. Yet, as you stand frozen, just you, him and the marble walls around you, dread finds home in the pit of your stomach.

- Was that man Fremen? - you ask, partially to fill the silence, partially because you're genuinely curious.

The man shrugs, you can see muscles moving under his white skin. He takes a step towards you and you will yourself not to run.

- Sometimes we bring a couple of captured desert rats home - he explains with a nonchalant tone - Mostly for entertainment.

The almost bored intonation he uses to describe this barbaric ritual makes something boil deep inside you. 

- That's cruel - you counter, emotions flowing freely onto your face, much to the man's delight - To deny those men the honor of dying on their home planet. To drag them into a completely foreign place, just to kill them for sport, like some animals... It's...

- Some of them live - he cuts you off, taking another couple of steps towards you, but in your growing outrage, you barely notice - Our brothels are filled with Fremen whores.

Your face twist into an expression of utter repulsion, and Feyd Rautha raises his eyebrows in a pathetic mask of confusion, almost childlike giddiness lighting up his eyes as he looks down at you.

- Oh, don't give me that look, my Lady. - he cooes, and you've never felt a stronger urge to slap the daylights out of someone - I know for a fact there are brothels on your planet filled with hungry soldiers.

- Yes - you bark back at him - but the people there are working prostitutes, not slaves!

He shrugs, looking somewhere to the side of your face.

- A waste of money, if you'd ask me.

- Good thing no one has - there's venom in your voice, and your betrothed sucks a breath through his teeth.

You curse yourself for leaving your dagger, for not concealing it somewhere in this ridiculous dress, because the way the Harkonnen's expression shifts freezes blood right in your veins. 

He looks at you, amusement tugging at the corners of his lips, while something much darker lurks in his eyes. His bloodied hand comes up, finger making contact with the exposed skin of your shoulder. You can feel the thick liquid stick to your flesh, as he drags his hand down, painting you, marking you.

- You're quite the little viper, my Lady.

Watching him silently, you don't respond. Don't know how to, when he closes the distance between your bodies enough to make you feel the heat radiating off of his chest, while the smell of blood and sweat completely assaults your senses. It's sickening, the way he looks at you, like you're a new toy, just waiting to be unpacked and destroyed by too eager hands. 

- My Uncle, the Baron, has instructed me, to be the utmost gentleman to you. To woo you completely - his voice is low, barely above a whisper, as he grins down at you - But I just can't lie to my future wife like that, can I?

He leans closer and finally, you take a step back, sliding out of his space, assessing a cautious stance. His hand almost follows you, the skin of your shoulder feels conflictingly cold without him.

- Once we're wed, I will possess you completely - this time you stand your ground, as he approaches, circling you like a lion stalking it's prey - And then...

He leans down beside you, shoulder to your shoulder, close enough for you to feel his hot breath graze your ear.

- Like the bull that took your grandfather's life, I shall pierce you.

The violent innuendo doesn't slip past you, and with hatred brewing behind your eyes, you look straight at him, forcing your fear to lay dormant. 

- You're disgusting.

- And you're blushing like a lovely, virgin bride should - he concludes, sending an awful wink your way, before withdrawing from you completely. 

Your veins burn hot, as you watch him leave, a selfish confidence painting his steps, and you beg every God in existence to grant you a sword in your hand. Or a dagger. A kitchen knife would do as well. Anything, that would help you cut this unbeatable, patronizing, infuriatingly handsome smirk from Feyd Rauthas face.

Alas, you're left with nothing, only a small glimmer of hope dangling in front of you, after your damned betrothed's words fully register in your brain.

A bride you might be, but certainly not a virgin one. Duncan Idaho made sure of that many years ago. The thought makes you smile, despite nerves wreaking havoc in your body. At least that's the one thing Feyd Rautha won't be able to take from you.

#my writing #feyd rautha x reader #feyd rautha x you #feyd rautha harkonnen #dune 2024 #dune movie #dune part 2 #feyd rautha smut #dune smut #dune x reader #he looks insane what the hell am i writing

[lex-the-flex]

Drinking the Water of Life

Paul Atreides x reader

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

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

But he loved you with all his heart.

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

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

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

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

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

"Paul, what is it?" You ask.

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

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

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

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

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

*****

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

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

"It's time, Y/N."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

taglist ~

@dreamliners

@visionsofsweettea

@xplore-the-unknwn

@kaleidoscope1967eyes

@shions-new-blog-of-stuff

#dune #dune film #dune frank herbert #dune fanfiction #dune movie #dune part two #dune part 2 #dune 2024 #paul atreides #paul atreides x you #paul atreides x reader #paul atreides fanfic #paul atreides imagine #paul muad'dib #paul atredies x reader #denis villeneuve #timothée chamalet #timothee chalamet x reader #timothée chalamet x reader #timothée chalamet imagine

[shegatsby]

Love Thy Enemy

Summary; Y/N Atreides had always been a stranger to the entire galaxy, her bed wasn’t her bed, her home wasn’t her home due to the fact that she was sent to accompany and be sisters with Irulan. She had limited access to her actual family and over the years they grew distant. She thought she would be like Reverend Mother, alone, yet powerful, and soon she would realize that there was no need of being alone when a wild creature had his eyes on her for a long time.

A/N; HI!!! Its been a long time since I wrote a series but i cannot resist Feyd. English isn''t my first language so go easy on me. There will be smut in the future chapters. TAG LIST IS OPEN!!!!!! (Reader has a lover and Feyd's going to find out lol 😉😉😉)

Warnings; None. Female Bene Gesserit Reader x Feyd-Rautha, enemies to lovers! reader is reffered to as she/her.

Words; 1.520K

Chapter 2

Chapter One – ‘’Meeting in flesh and blood’’

‘’Right behind you!’’ Irulan screamed as she was riding her horse to match Y/N’s. Y/N was a skilled rider, the wind in her long hair, she laughed at Irulan’s attempt of winning the race and focused on the finish line. Planet Kaitian which was the second Capital of the Corrino Empire had so many opportunities for Padishah Emperor Shaddam’s daughter Irulan and his beloved Y/N. The planet had forests, lakes and rivers so Y/N didn’t miss much of her home planet Caladan, she sometimes tossed and turned in her bed thinking of her family members but she was taken to Kaitain years ago. Irulan and Y/N were the same age and when Shaddam couldn’t have more children he asked Duke Leto Atreides to bring his first born daughter to be sisters with Irulan. Leto tried to find so many ways to refuse Padishah Emperor yet he was the ultimate power in the entire galaxy and Leto had no choice but to give his daughter Y/N. She was one years old when the arrangements were made. She could see her family at political events or celebrations, she had been in Caladan few times yet she felt stranger to the planet and she felt stranger to Kaitain as well. She has always wondered if, by any chance one day she would feel the sensation of ‘’being at home’’ nowhere and no one was her home. Maybe this was her fate.

When she finished the race her horse calmed down, Irulan followed behind. ‘’I swear you’re cheating and I am going to find out.’’ She was joking of course, Irulan and Y/N had a close relationship yet Y/N never forgot that she was a princess and there for needed to be treated more cautiously than the other lords and ladies of the galaxy. Together they hopped off of their horses, ‘’Walk with me.’’ Irulan’s  voice was soft yet direct. Her short blonde hair got messy, hem of her white long dress covered in mud, she was carefree when she was with Y/N.

Y/N had the color of her house Atreides. Green. Her green dress felt so light, they were walking on the grass for few minutes in silence., Y/N knew that Irulan wanted to say something.

Palace’s gardens were evergreen, gardeners achieved perfection. Gardens smelled of flowers at any time of the year. Irulan stopped in her tracks, they turned to soak in the scenery before their eyes, the entire planet was under their feet. Servants’ chatters could be heard, no matter what they were never alone. ‘’Soon my father will throw a ball for me.’’ She looked distant, Padishah Emperor Shaddam never had parties without a solid reason, it must be political. Before Y/N could ask Irulan explained simply, ‘’I will meet the man I have to marry.’’ Y/N knew one day that she had to marry someone in order to protect the power they had over the galaxy but she never thought the date would come this quick. Y/N had already a lover, only Irulan knew because he was from a lower house. She had a childish hope that one day she would marry him.

Irulan laughed in sarcasm, ‘’How I wish to be you, sister!’’ it was obvious that Irulan dreaded the situation.

There were no arrangements for Y/N and she was free for a long time or so she thought.

‘’I trust in Emperor’s decision. He won’t wed you to someone unworthy.’’ She tried to encourage her dear friend but Irulan stood there like a stone. ‘’Let’s head back.’’ Y/N said. A hollow silence followed them to the dining hall. Emperor couldn’t attend because he was dealing with preparations of the ball. The white marble fire place was lit and orange colors danced in the room, the dining hall was adorned with lavish furniture and a long wooden table. The wood came from Giedi Prime, it was called Pilingitam.

 Irulan seemed troubled, ‘’What’s on your mind sister?’’ Y/N asked. She was concerned for her, if she knew that she had to be concerned for herself…

She watched Irulan’s palm slithering on the Pilingitam table,’’ Majority of the houses will be at the ball,’’ she looked up to meet Y/N’s curious eyes, ‘’The Harkonnens will be too.’’ Y/N’s blood ran cold, she remembered the times where Emperor used to take them to Giedi Prime for political reasons. They had to sit and watch the games in the black and white arena. Gladiators killing each other…

She remembered a boy with pure blue eyes and full lips, ‘’I will fight there too when I’m old enogh.’’ He was sitting next to Y/N in his black outfit. He closed the tiny gap between him and Y/N, and he spoke quietly, ‘’Will you come and watch me?’’ he was speaking as if killing was a normal act. His knee touching Y/N’s, she remembered distinctly that the boy interlaced his little finger with hers. They were ten and yet Y/N could see Baron Vladimir’s influence on his poor nephew.

Y/N didn’t need to go back in her memories to detest the Harkonnens. Their families were in and out of war for centuries. Thankfully for a long time peace was kept. ‘’I will manage.’’ She insured Irulan with a genuine smile yet it wasn’t enough. Y/N brushed it off, after dinner she had mental training anyways.

Until the day of the ball she corresponded with her lover, Pyramus

He was a tall man with dark curls and jet black eyes. His beard always tickled her face.

She spent her days training and accompanying Irulan. Irulan grew restless as the they approached.

One by one the ships started to arrive, one could look up to the busy blue sky and see. Y/N’s family arrived early to see her and spend time with her. Lady Jessica, her mother, immediately questioned her about Y/N’s Bene Gesserit training, Duke Leto was happy to see her daughter once again. Paul, her one year younger brother gave her a tight hug.

They were united once more, she escorted them to their quarters in the palace and retrieved to get ready for the event. She wore a green dress with emeralds on her chest and waist, her maid braided her hair in Atreides style. She also wore an emerald tiara. Paul Atreides knocked on her door to escort her to the ball room, he looked sharp in his dark green suit. ‘’You seem nervous.’’ He questioned, -Y/N knew that her mother was teaching Bene Gesserit ways to her brother,- yes she was nervous because she was going to be reunited with her lover. ‘’Too many people.’’ She responded. Servants were running with food and wine on the corridors, music could be heard from a distance. Members of houses were having conversations about spice, politics, etc.

The doors of the room were open, inside was lit by the yellow warm lights coming from glowglobes, guests laughing and drinking. Tallest member was Baron Vladimir due to hanging in the air, eating like a mad man but she ignored him.

Her eyes searching for her lover, so blind to an outsider who got her under his radar.

Paul and Y/N walked to the table of their house, ‘’You look lovely my girl.’’ Duke Leto kissed her daughter’s forehead, it didn’t go unnoticed by a certain someone. He was a snake, silently slithering close to his prey.

Padishah Emperor Shaddam and his daughter Princess Irulan were announced and slowly entered the room, everyone bowed. They took their seats and Emperor greeted everyone, thanked them for coming to his feast and he also announced that he would choose the life partner of his daughter among his unmarried male guests. Duke Leto found himself watching his daughter with sad eyes, he wondered if he could see her wedding one day. Would she be happy and fortunate like him? Only time would tell but he prayed quietly.

It was time to dance, couples held each others’ hands and marched to the dance floor, Paul excused himself and went to ask the princess to dance with him. Leto happily asked Jessica to dance with him, Y/N wished that they were officially married but to keep his position as a powerful bachelor, other houses worked for him hoping that one day Duke Leto would marry one of their daughters. It was a well played game of chess on Atreides’s part. Y/N watched Irulan and Paul talking silently and dancing.

Soon Pyramus came with a huge smile. He kissed her hand and winked at her, ‘’My beautiful lady, would you be so kind and accompany me on the dance floor?’’ she tried so hard not to grin, ‘’Of course my lord.’’ He was in his house’s color, yellow. Hand in hand they mingled among the other couples, ‘’I’ve missed you.’’ He whispered. ‘’Not here.’’ She used the voice on him and his mouth closed in a second. Only their eyes talked.

They heard a rough cough and turned to face the intruder, Y/N had no idea that she would meet him in flesh and blood, ‘’Feyd…’’

#fanfiction #fanfic #reader insert #feyd rautha harkonnen #feyd x you #feyd rautha #feyd x reader #dune part two #dune part 2 #dune 2 #reader fanfiction #female reader #reader #x reader #austin butler fanfiction #austin butler #austin butler imagine #romance fanfic #send requests #requests are open #requests open #request #reqs open #house harkonnen #harkonnen #feyd rautha x reader #feyd rautha x you

[faetreides]

summary: leto atreides x afab concubine!reader

cw: daddy kink, pregnancy, power imbalance, dark fic coded, implication that the other concubines “disappeared”, overstimulation, body worship, i would do anything to be in reader’s position here i’m being so real, not included but got reader pregnant in the full nelson position, the smut is in a flashback, mention of the reader having hip dips, mention of leto with others but he realizes you’re the one after lmao, probably dune world/lore inaccuracies, reader’s a member of the duke’s breeding program, mention of choking, intended age gap but you can read it as otherwise

wc: 1k+

block & move on if uncomfortable !!!

do not repost, translate, or give ai my work

kinktober masterlist

“It’s to wake up, my love.”

Your eyes flutter open to see Duke Leto Atreides standing over your bed, one of his hands brushing back some of your hair away from your face. He smiles warmly when you tiredly meet his gaze, and holds out an open palm. You take it and let him help you sit up, though that’s as far as he’s willing to let you go. Leto hovers his hands over your baby bump, borderline paranoid about you doing anything that could jeopardize the health of the baby.

“I thought my appointment with the doctor wasn’t until next week, my lord…” You yawn, resting your hands on your belly as you fight off sleep. Being heavily pregnant was no easy task, and most days it feels like you have as much energy as a corpse.

“It is, I simply wanted to see you.” Leto answers, petting your hair and curling one arm around your lower back to support it. “When we’re alone, get rid of the ‘my lord’, what we have is more than the results of an obligation.”

You sigh, leaning into his touch as you consider his words. Months ago, you were just another member of the Duke’s harem. One of many meant to produce heirs until your body shriveled up. Your family was noteworthy but not noble enough to stay afloat, you heard that the Duke was looking for breeders and you left without looking back. Though you will admit that Leto Atreides is not the worst man you could’ve taken inside you. He was gentle and the way he kissed you suggested that he felt more than just gratitude.

You pretended to not mind the sounds and stories you heard from the other concubines in the beginning. You knew perfectly well what you were signing up for, the feelings came from nowhere, you swear.

Leto’s mannerisms during sex were impossibly adoring and intimate, and he would tell you were special every time in the midst of the afterglow. You stopped hearing heart dropping noises and nauseating stories, and the day after you found out you were pregnant you heard nothing at all. The Duke took longer than usual to meet with you that night.

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

“I’m sorry I kept you waiting.” Leto calls out, wrapping his arms around you from behind as you get ready for bed.

You finish tying the strings of your nightgown and turn around to face him. There are strange little flecks of red in the wrinkles on his face, but they could be a trick of the light so you brush the curiosity off.

“I am always waiting for you, my lord.” You repeat the same thing you say everyday, noting the way the corners of his smile flatten in displeasure.

He cups your face and walks the both of you backwards towards the bed, shooting his hands out to keep himself from crushing you when you inevitably fall on it.

Time passes by in a blur, every moment filled with cries of “Daddy” and overzealous movement from him that punches the breath of your lungs. He’s not incredibly rough, just passionate enough to have tears dot your lashes and his thumb buried in your mouth. Every kiss is a hot swirling mess of saliva and tongues colliding that gets you so wet, you really believe it could kill you.

“Mm, your tongue feels amazing, clumsily chasing after mine.” Leto grunts at some point, rutting and slamming his balls against your ass with no rhyme or reason. “The tightest cunt i’ve ever had, fuck-“

You hum around his thumb, suckling on it like he’s your god and his thick fingers in your mouth are your only reason to live. He grinds his teeth together when you make eye contact, and you struggle to keep it up as you hollow out your cheeks around his coarse digits.

“Wanna make you proud, Daddy, gonna be so good for you.” The words are muffled past the point of comprehension, but your eyes allow him to get the gist.

If you were not already pregnant, the flood of fresh cum in your pussy would’ve done the trick. You clench around your lord’s fat cock and let yourself break, squirting all over yourself.

When you come to, Leto’s busying himself with latching onto your tits like a leech and bullying your battered pussy.

“These are already so sensitive, aren’t they? And to think that I made them that way…” Leto trails off, licking a broad stripe over your nipple and pinching your clit.

You jolt and throw your head back, “Yes, Daddy, you did.”

He groans at the frequently used name, pinching your clit harder and digging his fingers in deeper. You’ve had more orgasms than you ever thought possible in the last hour alone, but your lord was insatiable like this. His head is too high in the clouds with visions of his future family to calm down.

Your legs shake but he takes his hand away from your clit and smooths his palm over your thigh to steady you.

“It’s alright, you know i won’t be too rough honey, you can take it. You’ve already taken my seed beautifully, growing my son in your womb.”

You know there’s no chance of stopping until Leto’s sure that he’s kissed and lavished every inch of your delectable body in Daddy’s attention. He gives each of your buds a ‘Goodbye for now’ kiss and wipes down the dips in your hips with his tongue, soothing the love bites and caressing the necklace of bruises around your neck he left when he lost control.

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

The bed sinks with Leto’s added weight, and your cheeks warm as you come back to the present. You look down at your joined hands to see a box clenched tightly in his free one. Like he’s scared of dropping it. You gaze up at him questioningly and he smiles once again before softly kissing the skin between your eyes.

Next thing you know, Duke Leto Atreides is kneeling before you and opening the box to reveal a large ring. It’s magnificently crafted and all the details align with your taste perfectly.

“Will you marry me?”

#kinktober #leto atreides #leto atreides x reader #leto atreides x you #dune #dune x you #dune x reader #dune fanfiction #dune fic #dune smut #oscar isaac #oscar isaac smut #oscar isaac fic #oscar isaac fanfiction #oscar isaac x reader #oscar isaac x you #dark fic #⚰️.deaddove #tw daddy kink #tw pregnancy #tw overstim #tw age gap

[melodygatesauthor]

The Only One

Dark - Duke Leto Atreides X f!Reader

Not Beta Read

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

Summary

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

Tags/Warnings

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

Word Count: 6k

Prelude

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“P-please,” you croaked, “I…I…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“S-stop, please, my lord…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Mmm-m-my-lord…p-please–”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh, my lord, y-yes…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Look at you…” his voice trailed off.

“Hello my lord,” you greeted softly.

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

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

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

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

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

“Thank you my lo-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Leto’s blood ran cold. 

Walk around freely…

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

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

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

Duke Leto Atreides Masterlist

Main Masterlist

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Stranger | Chapter 1

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

Summary: The Atreides daughter is sent off to Giedi Prime to marry the Harkonnen heir in an attempt to quell the feuding Great Houses. The bride, however, must prove her grit and earn the respect of her new family if she is to survive her new life. Perhaps she will find that she had more Harkonnen in her than she thought.

TW: none (for now)

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

Word Count: 1.2k

A/N: Please bear with me, it has been ages since I've written anything and this is my first ever work of fanfiction. I've never written in the second person before so if you catch any mistakes, especially in verb tenses, please let me know. English is not my first language. Also, this might start out a bit slow but I promise things will pick up soon.

The smell of grass and the crashing waves of Caladan brought you comfort as you stood before the starship that had been rented from the Spacing Guild.

Your brother had insisted on accompanying you to Giedi Prime, but a round trip would have been unnecessarily expensive, even with the vast wealth of your Great House. Besides, it would be foolish to deliver the heir of House Atreides to the home world of their sworn enemies. It was bad enough they had to send you there.

"Give them hell," Paul teased as he hugged you goodbye.

You laughed, but you knew his smile didn't quite reach his eyes. He had faith in your strength and ferocity, but he had much less faith in the hospitality of the Harkonnens.

"I'll miss you," you pull away and try to give him a reassuring smile but you, yourself, are not so certain of your fate.

You made your way to your mother, next in line to bid you farewell.

"Remember your training." Lady Jessica held your face and planted a tender kiss on your forehead. She had already given you all the advice she could.

You take her hands in yours and kiss them. "I will," you tell her solemnly.

You finally make it to your father, whose eyes are already welling with tears.

"My darling princess," his voice cracks as he lays a hand on your cheek. The Duke may seem a stoic man to most, but those who truly knew him knew he had a big heart.

Perhaps it is because you are one of those people that you finally feel that weight in your chest that you've been dreading since the signing of your marriage pact. It will be a truly long time before you would see your family again. If you could ever see them at all.

The Duke waves at an attendant who approaches with a silver tray. Leto takes the dagger resting on it and places it in your hands. "To remind you that you will always be an Atreides, that you will always be my daughter."

You let your tears fall as you hold the gift close to your chest.

"Don't cry now," your father pulls you into a hug, hoping to hide his own tears, "or I might never let you go."

You let a laugh slip through the sobs. You knew it was already decided and it is your duty to fulfill. The Sisterhood and the Emperor himself endorsed the match. Nothing could change it now.

The harsh light of Giedi Prime's black sun assaulted your eyes as you made your way down the starship's gangplank. The stark, high-contrast black and white made everything a pain to look at. You were thankful for the veils of your travelling gowns for providing you at least some shade.

You were greeted by House Harkonnen's steward, Jaromir Naggul, and swiftly led into the imposing, Brutalist fortress of their stronghold. You were almost happy to escape the infrared outside.

"Your belongings are being sent to your new quarters as we speak," Jaromir, a lanky but stately man, informs you. "You may change out of your traveling clothes and rest there. The Baron will receive you in the throne room in the afternoon."

You note his accent and the mild contempt in his voice, as if you were an inconvenience.

"This is Iassa," he gestures to one of the servants that had been following you through the halls. "She is your assigned slave. Should you need anything, you may tell her."

The word almost knocks the breath out of you.

You eyes turn to Iassa in her pale gray robes and you give her a polite nod. She hastily curtsies in return.

You knew the Harkonnens and even the Emperor kept slaves, but you suppose it never occurred to you that you would be charged with one yourself.

"Of course," Jaromir continues, "any of the servants in the fortress will be at your command, but Iassa will be in waiting for you in particular."

"Of course," you reply coldly.

"You will be staying in the guest wing for now," Jaromir says as he shows you the door to your quarters. "Of course, until your wedding. When you will then be moved to the na-Baron's apartments."

"...of course," you repeat, grateful again for your veils that they hide your dread.

You are silent as Iassa helps you into a black gown for your audience with the baron. It is the fashionable color in the Harkonnen home world. Although there were many other 'fashionable' traits on Giedi Prime, this was the only one you felt comfortable adopting right now. The complete lack of hair in every individual you had seen was certainly unsettling, but you sensed it would be rude to speak about it.

"What is the na-Baron like?" you ask.

Iassa pauses her fastening of your dress, she swallows. "He is a fearsome warrior, my lady," she keeps her gaze averted, "handsome and popular with the people."

Her voice was shaky but she seemed genuine. You only wonder if those words hold the same implications here as they do back home.

You look over to Iassa as she fetches your shoes. It's not difficult to see that she fears you. You cannot help but feel that that is all there is. You are still an off-worlder. An Atreides no less. She harbors no respect for you.

You take care to style your hair in the fashions of Caladan, fastening a falcon-like pin at the back of your head. The symbol of your house. Perhaps it is a risky choice, to be seen as defiant by the baron should he notice, but you could already feel the black sun beginning to drain the life out of you. The thrill of quiet defiance would have to sustain you for now.

Jaromir returns in time to fetch you and you are led to the throne room.

The baron's grotesque floating body looms over you and his subjects. You had never met any of the Harkonnens before but you were sure that was him.

"Welcome to your new home, Lady Atreides," the Baron utters your last name with thinly veiled loathing. "Let me present my nephew, Feyd-Rautha."

A tall muscular young man steps forward. Stately and regal as a Harkonnen could be, he looks over you with condescending eyes.

He certainly looked like a warrior, and you could see how the people of Giedi Prime could find him handsome, but you find yourself wanting to spit in his face.

"Forgive me for not greeting you when you landed, my lady," the na-Baron bows to you. His gravelly voice sends a chill down your spine, "I was preoccupied at the time. I trust you have settled well?"

You curtsy in turn, "I'm sure my lord had important duties to attend to. I am grateful for your hospitality. My rooms are very comfortable."

"Do not find them too comfortable young lady," the Baron calls from afloat his chair, "your wedding celebrations are to begin and you will be sharing rooms with my nephew before long."

Feyd-Rautha smirks at this and you are almost willing to cast decorum aside to slap it off his face.

"Tomorrow, your groom will take part in the arena to demonstrate his prowess as a worthy husband and leader, as per the traditions of our house," the Baron announces. "I'm sure you will make a point to attend."

"I would not miss it, dear Baron."

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

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