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faetreides · 14 days

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summary: priest!leto x afab!reader x priest!paul (title from scorpio by pour vous)

cw: blasphemy if i’m being so real, spit roasting, reader is lowkey losing it but they’ll be okay, dubcon, pwp-ish (there’s set up but it’s not that long imo), mention of paul being into predator/prey, daddy kink coded without the actual daddy kink, horror elements, unreliable narrator vibes, mention of them being willing to non con reader if things didn’t go their way, no incest between leto & paul 💀, reader’s their sad loser turned attic spouse, mention of eventual impreg, implied soft dom!leto & mean dom!paul, religious practice inaccuracies, possibly predictable plot twists, implied painful anal but reader’s too out of it to feel it, implied natural aphrodisiac in their spit, reader bleeds

wc: 2.5k

block & move on if uncomfortable,

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You’ve been feeling… lost. The trees keep secrets from you and the clouds mix together like egg whites. You wish you knew what kind of pill you need to be on, you wish you knew what was wrong with you. You’re paranoid and seeing blank eyes watching you through the brick and mortar of your apartment. Your skin burns hotter than hell and sometimes you think that there are claws grabbing at your ankles when you sleep.

Church hasn’t been something you’ve bothered to attend since you were a kid, but you yearn for it now.

You pull your tattered coat around yourself as you step into the ancient building. The Church of Caladan is the oldest church in the country, if not the world. You hope you don’t look silly when you take caution with how hard your feet hit the stone. ‘You break it, you buy it’ must apply to old churches too.

Your unease rolls off you in waves, and a couple nearby priests seem to sense it in the same way that horses can sense fear. For a second you imagine bursting into flames, but there are hands groping your flesh through the great hellfire.

They’re about even in height, though one is clearly older. The gray hair weaved into his temples suits him more than it shows his age. The younger man has the same dark and wavy hair, but his gaze is a touch more haggard and rife with burden.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn't have burst in here…. I'm just looking around.” You rush to explain so they would go away, internally cringing at yourself.

“No, we want newcomers to feel comfortable enough to ask questions. I’m Leto,” He says and shakes your hand. “And this is my son, Paul. He’s recently started working here at the church with me.”

Paul steps up to shake your head as well, his mouth doesn’t move but you swear that the corners twitch. The stained glass windows cast a multicolored hue on his eyes and you find yourself lost in the swirling pools of light. Then black holes swallow the brightness in the irises, cosmic cannibalism.

You blink in alarm and awkwardly take a step back from the two priests. Father and son share a look between them that has the hairs on the back of your neck standing them.

Leto clears his throat and pointedly grabs your hands in both of his, encapsulating them in his warmth.

“You’ll have to forgive him, Paul’s never dealt with a lamb as darling as you before. He’s never dealt with one at all actually, you two can go through this together.”

Paul smiles but it fits all wrong, with teeth that should be fangs and with a tongue that appears forked. You blink again and all is well, the man before you fits his human skin like a glove. Maybe you should give them the benefit of the doubt, you’re convinced you’re going crazy anyway and Priests would never be capable of hurting someone. Ghosts aren’t real and Demons are just a crazed mother’s bedtime story.

“Um, okay. Thank you for accepting me.” That’s all you want, deep down, and they know that. “I felt moved to be here, I can’t explain it.”

Leto nods and Paul rubs your shoulder in sympathy. They would hiss that they know full well what called you here, but you might bleat and scurry away. You make a sad picture, abandoned and half insane, but that’s what they are for. To soothe and to serve you, to purify you from the inside out.

“Then all the more reason to stay and sit for a moment, don’t you think?” Paul finally speaks, the boyish tone surprising you.

“Paul’s right, let’s get this jacket off you, poor lamb. You must be freezing to death.” Leto coos, shushing your protests and carefully pulling the cheap thing off of you.

They take you on a little tour of sorts, pointing out the architectural details of the building itself as well as passionately delving into its history. Centuries of worship and service to the community, strangely never having sustained any kind of property damage. The priests speak of the church as if they were wandering through the halls all this time, and they chuckle when they tease you about how relieved they were that you didn’t suffer from a nosebleed. They’re quite common apparently.

“I think that should do it, i’d hate to think that we’ve been talking your ear off, dear.” Leto says, rubbing the inside of your wrist and directing you towards the large piano on the stage at the front of the church.

He must notice the sudden spark in your eyes at the sight, because his crow’s feet wrinkles deepen as he pulls the black piano bench out. Leto’s palm spreads out wide and he gives the leather seat a firm pat, signaling for you to sit down. Butterflies swirl in your stomach with anxiety but you feel too shy to refuse the clearly eager offer. You take a seat in front of an onyx grand piano far grander than you’re used to seeing in a church.

Leto soon occupies the space next to you. The bench is small enough that your thigh is pressing against his, warmth bleeds through your clothes and the indication of muscle really makes you wish you were alone in your room with a rose toy. You place your fingers on the pristinely polished keys and clumsily play some hodgepodge of a melody that you remember from your childhood. A mix of tchaikovsky and children's church songs.

You jump and play the wrong note when you feel thick fingers slide up your thigh. Your cheeks burn with heat but you focus on the music. Leto sighs with sugary sweet satisfaction but doesn’t move his fingers any further. He also doesn’t try to play, it’s almost like he only wants to bask in the domesticity of watching you perform. You think you hear him whisper “That’s it, who knew such a talented lamb would be gracing our doorstep?”

You get a flash of riding him on the piano, gasping into his hair chest when it breaks under the weight of your passion. Thin fingers come from behind to caress your ass as it moves, much colder than the cock you’re bouncing on. Then it fades away, and you’re back to making a fool of yourself with your little song.

Paul watches from the pulpit, eyes drinking in the way your curves expand and move as you squirm. His grip tightens on the bright wood but you’re none the wiser. You almost forget that he’s even there, something which he realizes because he strolls to stand behind you and his father. The music stops once you feel his breath on your neck and he bends down to tenderly pull your hair off of your shoulder, getting himself acquainted with the texture as he rubs his fingertips down the strands.

A distant voice calls out for Leto and he stands, smiling apologetically and thanking you for the performance. You feel adrift as you watch him walk away, reminding yourself that a man like him has other things to do than coddle you.

Paul slides a hand down your back and guides you down to the pew right up front, with a view of center stage, sitting right beside you with a wink. Once Leto returns, you spot the silver tray of communion wafers in his hands. The tray is set on the pulpit by his side.

The older man's eyes darken as he puts one in his mouth, and your brain shuts down when he snatches your face in his rough palms and kisses you sense no less. The wafer cracks as his tongue passes it into your mouth, the salty crumbs oddly making you crave something even saltier. There’s a sticky sweet sensation traveling through your body as you exchange saliva with him, your brain feels so foggy.

You break away, curling your hands into the collar of Leto’s uniform.

“Wait, what are you doing?” Your voice is small and not completely filled with disgust, you’re honestly too desperate for some form of human contact to make good decisions.

“We’re helping you, honey.” Leto purrs into the seam of your mouth, shaking his head in apparent fondness.

You’re too cute for your own good, at least they don’t have to worry about covering their tracks. Any incubus or succubus would be glad to get a hold of someone as lonely as you, but they wouldn’t love you like you deserve. You haven’t been watched by anyone as long as you’ve been watched by them. He hopes that Paul doesn’t shove his foot in his mouth and let it slip that he wished you gave them the opportunity to take you by force. His son carries a torch for a bit of predator and prey action, he likes playing with his food too much. You’re different from the scrambling mice that get torn to bits, though, you’re forever.

Plus, if you don’t get it now, he has no problems with explaining everything when you’re too weak to get up and try to run away.

Paul buries his face in your neck, spilling the vial of wine he had in his pocket down your shirt. It soaks the tank top underneath and though you try with all your might to wriggle away, the desire to resist gets brushed away under a heavy fog.

It’s nice to be touched, to be wanted after a lifetime of feeling the exact opposite. Perhaps this is why the lord guided you to his grandest home, so you could take his prophets into your body.

The black vanishes from Paul’s eyes and you sink against his chest, making out with his father as your eyes roll back into your head.

No words are uttered verbally as Paul shuffles to the side and pulls you to lie back on the pew’s cushion. Leto deprives you of his tongue and gives you a chance to breathe, which both men do with you in sync, resting their foreheads against you.

The nectar on your tongue tastes divine, little lamb, a voice whispers in your mind.

Let us give you purpose so you no longer need to roam, another begs.

You’re crying from the relief of having your mouth filled, Paul tilts your head up by your chin as he slowly slides his cock into your mouth. The ridges and bumps of what feels like piercings sends a jolt of arousal through you.

“Fuck-” He hisses and rubs your neck, watching you adjust to the stretch. “So warm-”

Leto tuts and clamps his hands around your hips, you’re already too fucked out to register sharp black claws taking care of your clothes. Leaving you bare. A shiver passes through your body as he drags his huge hand down to your pussy, being mindful not to accidentally scratch you. He intends for there to be no blood, this time, not a lot.

You gag on Paul’s length when Leto slams your hips against his pelvis, grinding not one but two large cocks against your cunt. If you were looking at his face, you’d see pitch black eyes and intimidating fangs, but all you can focus on is the hazy candle light and what must be someone playing an organ.

You catch a view of one of the stained class windows, a pair of angels cradling a lamb. It’s the only damaged part of the church, with cracks running along the angel’s wings. You’d think it’s a sneeze away from shattering entirely. Your view of it is blurred by Paul’s quick thrusts, gagging on it again. Drools drip onto the red carpet.

Leto grabs one of Paul’s curled horns and yanks his head to the side, scolding at him to be nicer to you. You’ve clearly never taken three cocks inside you, the one you’re servicing is proving to be overwhelming enough. Again, Paul’s new to this experience as well, just in a different way than you are. In a sense, it’s like he was born yesterday. The older man relays this to you through your choked moans and tears, assuring you that he’s taught Paul how to clean up his messes and be grateful. Something like this will be no different.

“Hush, beloved. I would have gladly speared your mouth but you would be dead before I could cum inside it.”

You see God in the sky when Leto slaps the tapered tip of one of his dicks against your slick entrance, God sees you when he gets the tight walls of ass to wrap around the other. Unbeknownst to you, it’s funny how so many things are, your blood pools around his balls. You’re in pain sure but you’ve never felt as much pleasure as you have in this instance. Both “Priests” smell your blood and well, only your body can tell the rest of the story. Later you’ll wake up to find that the building around you has ruby walls and it seems to be breathing. The shooting pain in your left hand is the result of two iron rings being chiseled into the bone of your ring finger.

The four leathery wings protruding from your back, with spikes poking out from the joints, are waiting to be discovered. As are the nubs sprouting out of your hair.

For now beads of sweat highlight your bouncing tits, Paul gropes one and Leto runs the edge of his claw along the side of the other. They’re hissing words that string together and disappear in the blink of an eye, voices slurred and sticky. Their babbling stops and starts again as you reflexively swallow around Paul’s cock when he skull fucks you without warning. They laugh too, but you can at least pretend that Leto’s tone is kinder.

“Alright, alright. That’s enough teasing.”

“But father-“

“I said no. And don’t think for a second that you’re getting anything else but their mouth.”

“Why the fuck not?”

“You lack self control, it wouldn’t be suitable for conception to occur like this. As delectable as their quivering cunt is, demons shouldn’t abstain from courting.”

“You’re saying that as you’re balls deep inside of them.”

“Don’t start with me, Paul.”

All while you’re making gurgling sounds in between the younger priest’s thighs. You hear growls that sound like a mountain lion’s emitting from both men, and the heavy thumps of something flapping in the air gets you holes clenching around Leto. Both men feverishly scratch up and down your limp body, but you’re so enraptured by the chorus of angels happening outside. You have no sense of time, it’s minutes or it’s hours before their cum spills inside of you. There’s too much to possibly keep it all inside, a good amount of it leaks from your cunt and your throat. Leto feels like Christ incarnate when you squirt all over him and yourself with the dumbest expression on your face. Multicolored pieces of glass fall down around you with the loud chime of an invisible bell.

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agent-whiskeys-sweetheart · 1 year

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Duke Leto Atreides - NSFW Alphabet

A = Aftercare

Leto loves to give aftercare. It’s almost as fun as the sex for him. He prides himself on knowing exactly what you need when you need it. Thirsty? He’s ready with a glass of water in hand. Cold? Not for long since he’s already covering you in blankets. Emotional? No need to say a word. He’s wrapping you in his arms and whispering sweet nothings to you before you can even tell him how you feel. Falling asleep in your arms after sweet lovemaking is his happy place.

B = Body Part

His favorite body part on you are your thighs. I believe that Duke Leto is a man that appreciates a thick woman. If you’ve got more fluff on you, he will be salivating when he looks you up and down. He loves burying his head between your legs, hands secured safely on your thighs as he kneads your soft flesh. It’s also his favorite when he gets to lay with his head in your lap, napping on your thighs while you play with his hair. His favorite body part on himself is his arms. Those arms offer you so much safety and comfort in the worst of times. They are also good at holding you in place while he’s pounding up into you, keeping you still as he plunges you into ecstasy.

C = Cum

Leto likes his cum inside of you. So long as he is pumping his thick load deep inside one of your holes he is happy. If he had to pick a favorite he would definitely be a fan of unloading in your pussy though. But watching you swallow his load gets him hard all over again. And watching his cum drip out of both your tight little holes is the most beautiful thing he has ever witnessed.

D = Dirty Secret

Leto has gotten off on more than one occasion to the thought of you being pregnant. Not just getting you pregnant, though that is a part of it. However the big thing for him is just seeing you with your belly big and round with his child. Just the image of you, the mother of his child, with your tummy swollen is enough to make him cum.

E = Experience

I like to imagine that Leto is pretty experienced. I think that as he aged he mellowed out but when he was younger he was a bit of a playboy. He liked to sleep around and have fun. He still took his responsibilities very seriously since that’s just the kind of person he is but he still liked to have a good time. Now that he’s older he’s carried on that experience with him and is really good in the sack.

F = Favorite Position

Leto’s favorite position is when he puts your legs over his shoulders and drives down into you. It gives him a great angle to get extra deep when he shoots his load inside of you so he is sure to impregnate you. It also gives him the opportunity to hold onto your thighs, feeling your soft skin under his fingertips. It’s absolutely exquisite to him.

G = Goofy

Leto isn’t too serious in the bedroom. There are definitely times when he’s fucking you very intensely and there’s not a lot of room for jokes. However, he’s not afraid to laugh at himself in bed. Sex can be awkward and there can be mishaps. When that happens he’ll just joyfully laugh it off and go on with the moment. He’s actually quite smiley when he’s having sex. He loves you so much and the fact that he gets to make love to you just brings a smile to his face.

H = Hair

Leto is completely shaven. There is not an out of place hair to be found down there. The rest of him is so smooth and clean that it’s only natural he’d keep every part of himself so well cleaned up.

I = Intimacy

Even when Leto is in a playful mood, he is still very loving and romantic with you. Above all else he loves you so so much. He would make sure to show that in any way he can. That’s not to say that he can’t also be rough and demanding with you. However, he never wants you to question whether or not he loves you. Therefore he’ll find subtle ways to show it. Holding your hand while he’s pile driving you. Kissing your back while he’s pounding you from behind and smacking your ass. Gently rubbing a thumb over your jaw as he smacks your face. He wants you to know that he does everything with love when it comes to you. He’s very romantic in that way.

J = Jack-Off

Leto does jack off a fairly healthy amount. For him it’s not always about sex. Sometimes he just needs a quiet moment for himself and he finds it through masturbation. He’s got a fairly good sex drive and sometimes he doesn’t want to ask you to fuck all the time so he’ll sneak off to the shower and get himself off. However, you are always the object of his desire when he’s jacking off.

K = Kink

Leto has a huge breeding kink. He absolutely loves the idea of getting you pregnant. He is so in love with you and the thought of making you a mother makes him cum so hard. I also believe that Leto has a big audio kink. Nothing turns him on more than the sound of you when he’s fucking you. Your moans, your whimpers, your grunts, your sweet words. All of it drives him completely crazy. Giving praise is another one. He loves praising you. Seeing what his words do to you makes him so horny. He also just thinks you deserve so much love.

L = Location

Because of Leto’s position, he prefers to have sex in the privacy of your shared bedroom. He doesn’t really like the idea of getting caught because of the consequences it could have for the both of you. However, he’ll have sex with you in other places. So long as you have privacy. The shower is another place that he likes to have sex. He likes bending you over while you’re slippery and covered in soap.

M = Motivation

What turns Leto on is you. He thinks that you are the most desirable woman he’s ever laid eyes on. He has such a loyalty and devotion to you. There are three things that drive him; duty, honor, and you. You are one of his biggest motivators in all aspects of his life. Just give him that look through your lashes and he will be a puddle at your feet, guaranteed. He adores everything you have to offer.

N = No

Leto’s biggest no is anything that would permanently hurt you. He’d never bring any kind of weapon into the bedroom. He is not afraid to tie you up, smack you around, but anything more than that would be going to far for him. He also doesn’t like bodily fluids. He likes to keep things clean and generally just finds it too messy for his liking.

O = Oral

God, this man loves to eat you out. He loves torturing you with it. He’ll bury his head between your legs for an hour, doing nothing more than licking and sucking on your clit until you’re swollen and begging him to stop. He’ll make you cum over and over and over again until your legs are shaking and you’re covered in sweat. He loves to see you panting and exhausted from how many times he’s brought you to orgasm. He doesn’t like receiving oral as much as he loves giving. He is definitely dominant and he loves when you pleasure him but a lot of his pleasure comes from giving you pleasure. Therefore, he’ll let you go at your own pace when you suck him off. He doesn’t push or force you at all unless he knows that’s what you want. Otherwise, you are in charge when it comes to giving him blowjobs.

P = Pace

Leto loves fast, slow, and everything in between. There’s always something special no matter how he decides to fuck you. When he fucks you really fast your back always arches off the bed and you hold onto him for dear life. He loves that dependency. When he fucks you slow you’re kissing all over him and touching him constantly, always wanting more of him. When he fucks you somewhere in between you can focus on your filthy words, uttering the most dirty things to him which drives him absolutely wild.

Q = Quickie

Leto doesn’t mind a quickie. Of course his preferred option is to take his time with you so he can really see you unravel beneath him. However, he knows that that’s not always realistic and can appreciate the fun that comes along with a quickie. Especially if he’s had a long and tedious day of meetings he’ll send you a message telling you to meet him in the bedroom for lunch where he’ll quickly fuck your brains out before straightening himself out and going about his day.

R = Risk

There are some ways in which Leto likes to take risks. He likes to try new things. He wants to know every single thing that makes you tick. However, if it could result in you getting in trouble or being caught he draws the line. He doesn’t want you to face the embarrassing consequences of that happening. So, he’ll take risks in other ways. Tying you up, torturing you with toys, exploring new kinks.

S = Stamina

Leto isn’t exactly a young man. He’s not super old but he doesn’t have the stamina that he did when he was younger. He’s really only able to go for one round before he has to rest for a while. On a really good day he can do two but that’s pretty much his max. However, that one round lasts a pretty decent amount of time. Maybe an hour and a half to two hours on average. You definitely walk away satisfied.

T = Toys

Leto is not afraid to use toys. He likes seeing what they do to you. He knows that he can satisfy you without them. He just views them as tools to help you feel as good as possible. He loves pressing a vibrator against your clit while he’s fucking you, combining the sensations of the toys and himself to bring you peak pleasure.

U = Unfair

Leto can absolutely be very unfair. There are times when he won’t let up until you’re a begging whimpering mess, falling apart on his cock. However if you flash those sweet little puppy dog eyes at him, he’ll turn into a puddle for you and give you everything you want. You don’t use that look very often because you like the way he teases you but you know that he is immune to your wants and needs.

V = Volume

Leto is not exactly quiet. He’s never loud enough that anyone will hear the two of you however he does like to make noise for you. He will grunt and groan and moan for you as you make him feel exquisite pleasure. He also loves to talk dirty to you. He’ll say all manner of filthy things to you just to hear you moan for him.

W = Wild Card

On special occasions, Leto loves to fuck you in the ass. There’s just something about knowing that all of your holes belong to him that turns him on so much. Knowing that you’re giving all of yourself to him. He loves every single inch of your body including your tight little asshole. He really likes to pump his seed into your tight puckered hole and watch it drip down and over your slit. It’s not very often that he fucks your ass but when he does it’s absolutely delicious.

X = X-Ray

Leto is really thick. He’s not super long but he’s very girthy and fills you up really well. The tip of his cock is a little smaller than the rest of his shaft. He’s very smooth and doesn’t have a lot of veins.

Y = Yearning

Leto has a pretty decent sex drive. The role that he plays as duke has forced him to have to control his urges but once he meets you he realizes that it’s not so bad to let go every now and again. His sex drive also goes up after meeting you. It used to be a little lower but you’re so sexy to him that he can’t help but want to fuck all the time. However, he does rein himself in enough to perform his duties efficiently. However, once the evening hits and he’s done working? He’s ready to throw you in bed and have his way with you.

Z = ZZZ

Leto prefers to fall asleep after you. He likes watching you to make sure that you’re satisfied and happy and well worn out before he falls asleep, cradling you in his arms sweetly until you’re both fast asleep.

Tags: @readsalot73 @sheerfreesia007 @ahopelessromanticwritersworld @laters-gators @thepaperpanda @dailyreverie @hoedamn-eron @budcooper @supernovafeather @xowlan @meetmyevilways

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my-tin-can-mans · 2 years

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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.

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the-witheredroses · 5 months

Text

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.)

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itsbuckytm · 2 months

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Little Accidents / Paul Atreides

Summary: Paul's obliviousness was soon shattered when frequent visits to the nursing room revealed the true essence of love at first sight.

Ps: This is a short fluff I had in mind, but I hope you enjoy and also english isn't my first language so bare with minimal errors, (once upload i always make sure to update now my works, if there is any errors) Enjoy! XOXO

As the heir of the Atreides' House, Paul effortlessly following in his father's esteemed footsteps. He possesses an acute sense of ownership, ensuring he's well aware of everything under his purview. Whether it's news of your battle injuries or workplace mishaps, Paul is always the first to know, abandoning any prior engagements to rush to your aid. While you're being tended to, his concern is palpable; his eyes scan for any signs of harm as he utters all while using the voice. ‘Where?’ This gesture of worry has become familiar, a reassurance you've grown accustomed to, especially when your visits to the infirmary often serve as an excuse to steal moments with him. ‘Dropped a weapon on my foot,’ you explain with a hint of ruefulness, ‘guess my impatience got the better of me, inadvertently knocking out one of the armories. Pity.’

Indeed, quite a pity. Paul couldn't help but notice your composure, devoid of any telltale signs of injury. It either seemed that the nurse had efficiently tended to you before his arrival—a stroke of luck, perhaps. However, Paul wasn't fooled; this wasn't the first time you'd urgently summoned him to the infirmary. Today, he harbored suspicions that you might finally reveal the true reason behind your frequent visits. “If you'd prefer I refrain from using the Voice," he remarked, a hint of seriousness in his tone, "you'll need to be more forthcoming than simply labeling it an accident, my dear."

However, you eventually reassured the head nurse, explaining that it was merely a minor issue requiring attention. Your heart fluttered with a mixture of nerves and affection as Paul insisted on tending to your wounds himself, rather than delegating the task to anyone else. As the room cleared, leaving just the two of you alone, Paul attempted to devise a plausible excuse while discreetly observing your work. This added another layer of challenge for him, yet he remained determined to keep a watchful eye on you. “Now tell,” A pregnant pause was felt soon as he sat next to you. “How I am suppose to know, that there is probably more reason than just a visit at the nursery?”

You find yourself drawn in by his innocence, but observing Paul working alongside his father and their associates, it becomes evident that innocence was not his defining trait anymore. In fact, there's a possibility he understands more than he lets on. Maybe he's even willing to engage in the game you're playing. You nonchalantly dismiss any concerns, offering the excuse that you're just adding a bit of spice to the situation. However, Paul's reaction suggests that perhaps it's not the right moment to discuss such matters, especially anything related to the Spice itself.

Paul tilted his head, almost taking offense at your attempt at humor. Despite his awareness of your desire to spend more time alone with him, he understood that convincing him to stay a little longer each time wasn't as simple as it seemed. Even if his attempts at pampering you, like tending to invisible wounds that morphed into cuddle sessions, were charming, he recognized that your discussions about the 'Spice' were more about politics than relaxation. Poor thing– that was all he knew about out. This realization led to a soft chuckle from you, followed by an apology for bringing up the topic. However, Paul dismissed your apology, urging you not to discuss such matters, especially around him, as he couldn't help but wonder why you frequented the nursing room more often than before. “Now tell me, or I might just become as impatient as you’ll be when demanding kisses..”

His voice trailed off, almost seductive when Paul was right about to expose this little game of yours. Instantly you could feel his lip curve slightly into a smirk as he saw your expression, your eyes winding in shock, trying your very best to obliged. That you were the one who meant to shock Paul out of his work for some time but, perhaps you were indeed right about your wonders. That in fact, Paul knew that the exact reasons why you obliged yourself to the nursing room more often than ever. Only to find out, it was to spend more time with him. But Paul being himself, being the type of guy that he is, did not to confess his wrong at first or to be completely oblivious. After all– he is the duke’s son.

"So, let me get this straight," Paul Atreides began, his tone tinged with a mixture of disbelief and introspection. "I, Paul Atreides, am so easily ensnared by your little charade? It's rather disheartening, truth be told." There was a hint of a pout on his lips as he contemplated your adeptness at expressing your desires, though he couldn't entirely fault you for it. With the constant demands of dealing with the Harkonnens and managing CHOAM affairs, finding time for you had become more challenging than he and you had anticipated.

Unlike his parents, whose marriage was purely political, Paul had chosen a different path, one where your presence held a significance beyond mere political alliances. For him, building a future within the confines of the Atreides' House with you by his side was a deeply personal and cherished desire. Material wealth could wait; what mattered most was the connection he shared with you. With a sigh, he reached out to gently caress your cheek, a silent acknowledgment of your correctness all along. Perhaps it was time to prioritize his own happiness, even if it meant putting paperwork aside momentarily. "Maybe you're onto something," he admitted, his voice softening. "Perhaps you’re right, perhaps it's time for me to take a break from the endless bureaucracy and spend some quality time together. After all, even I need to unwind–."

Paul's words carried a weight of remorse rarely heard, especially within the esteemed Atreides family. As he neared the end of his sentence, you leaned in swiftly, feeling the soft brush of his lips against yours in a lingering kiss. The longing shared between you both was palpable, though circumstances often made indulgence impractical, intensifying the desire even more. When Paul finally pulled away, he gently nibbled at your lower lip, a playful chuckle escaping him at the sudden surge of hunger between the two of you. There was an undeniable yearning to touch, caress, and love you. "Perhaps I'll request a day off," he murmured, his voice laced with a hint of promise. “Perhaps you will.” You both end up chuckling as he cups your face, his eyes gazing from your eyes to your lips. Paul confessed once more,

“And perhaps, we don't always have to use the excuse of happy accidents, so I can exile from paperwork every now and then.”

#timothée chalamet #dune x reader #dune part two #dune imagine #paul atreides imagine #paul atredies x reader #paul atreides x you #duke leto atreides #jessica atreides #lady jessica #dune part 2 #paul atreides x reader #paul atreides smut #timothee x reader #timothee chamalet #timothee x you #feyd rautha x reader

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melodygatesauthor · 8 months

Text

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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space-mango-company · 2 months

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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]

#feyd rautha #feyd rautha harkonnen #feyd rautha x reader #feyd rautha x you #feyd rautha smut #dune #dune part two #house harkonnen #house atreides #leto atreides #lady jessica #paul atreides #baron vladimir harkonnen #duke leto atreides #austin butler #jessica atreides #space-mango-company #fic: stranger

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yandere-wishes · 9 days

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⭒ㅤׂ ɪ ʟᴏᴠᴇ ʏᴏᴜ, ɪᴛ'ꜱ ʀᴜɪɴɪɴɢ ᴍʏ ʟɪꜰᴇㅤׂ ⭒

⭒⌒★ Yandere!Dune Men x Reader ★⌒⭒

゜。♡ 𝒲𝒽𝑒𝓃 𝒯𝒽𝑒𝓎 𝑅𝑒𝒶𝓁𝒾𝓏𝑒 𝒯𝒽𝑒𝓎 𝐿𝑜𝓋𝑒 𝒴𝑜𝓊 ♡ ｡゜

☾⋆ Paul Muad'Dib Atreides | پل معادب آتریدس

He dreamed of you again tonight. Something cathartic laying across the sands. Your touch haunts his skin, tracing scars and stars across his cheeks. He wonders what you see him as, something sacred or something exotic. Neither matters so long as you love him...

Paul's a volatile star, always one breath away from exploding. You're scared to touch the golden boy, lest your fingers return burned and your skull rattles with the echo of the cosmos. Still, it's hard to miss the devotion when his lips grace your knuckles. Hard to miss the cacophony of his heart as it reverberates across the desert.

ᯓ★ Leto Atreides | لتو آتریدس

Leto kisses butterflies into your shoulder, the taste of your skin feels like nectar on his tongue. His mind is always racing vying for your affection, your attention, your adherence. He traces your name across his star maps, each letter scribbled in a melancholy blue. You grace his chambers again tonight, it feels so wrong to only see your silhouette, to not feel your love bleeding like his does. He kisses you again, something akin to devotion. He needs to feel you under him again, needs to feel the softness of your flesh under his fingers. Something in him shatters, something inside him rearranges. You make him feel so erratic. Why must he love you this way?

𓆩⚝𓆪 Duncan Idaho | دانکن آیداهو

his lips taste of chaos, he pours his passion into you.

He feels you rattle inside his bones. Feels you coursing through his veins like unaltered spice. He's on another mission, laying in the sand and daubing your essence into constellations. He dreams of your fingers running over his muscles pushing adoration into him with a rusted kitchen knife. Your eyes never gaze at him for long. And yet each stare holds the weight of a nebula. He falls asleep to the phantom melody of your sweet voice. Dreaming of returning to you once more.

༺🕸༻ Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen | فید روتا هارکونن

There's a blade in his hand, blood marring pale fingers again. In every droplet, he sees your face. Phantom pains rampage when he hears your name. He dreams of you holding a knife to this chest, breaking the skin, and riving through muscle. Each night your ghost plagues him. Hurting him in all the ways he craves. He dubs you ecstasy, overdosing on everything he wants to do to you. Everything he wants you to do to him. He etches your name upon his bones, dedicating each open wound to you. He's going mad over the notion of you between his sheets, limbs entwined in a bloody mess. His tongue craves the taste of your flesh, starved like the trees on Arakkis. He must have you, he will have you.

-`𖤓´- Stillgar | ستیلگار

Stillgar's love is a desert tune, the winds rustling through the grains before the breaching of a sandworm. He falls harder and harder with each soulful gaze. He's spent his whole life chasing prophecies that he's forgotten how to wholly love something not written in blood and legend. He prays upon every star, that the maker has written your names together. That maybe some prophecy exists where you are to become his. He watches you sitting across the dunes, watching as the sunset pales compared to you. He whispers prayers beneath his breath, hoping you'll be with him soon.

݁˖☘︎ Gurney Halleck | گارنی هالک

He stiffens under your touch, under the sonority of your voice. His battered heart rattles in your presence, the air in his lungs freezes and he momentarily forgets that he is a soldier, a protector, a tool carved to fight for the Atreides. He's not meant to love, to crush, he's meant to kill, to teach, to follow. A weapon in every sense of the word. And yet he'd throw the world at your feet for a sliver of your attention. Gurney can't help the flames that grow within him. The raging pyro each night when he catches a rogue glimpse of you through the crack of your door. He wishes to kiss you, to hold you. To make you his in every way he knows he can't.

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eyelessfaces · 2 months

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about time we found each other again.

leto atreides x reader

summary: even years after your wedding got called off, leto is not sure he truly really got over you.

warnings: implied cheating (I am so sorry lady jessica I love you), death of a parent, angst, probably inaccurate dune lore stuff my most sincere apologies I did my best

tags: f!reader, arranged marriage, first love, love confessions, estrangement, time jump where the second part takes place a few years before the first movie (this doesn't matter at all tbh)

word count: 2.1k

this is my first time writing for leto so I hope he's alright lol<3

When you came to meet Leto Atreides for the first time, it was instantaneous; maybe you couldn't rightfully affirm it with conviction yet, but some deep part of you immediately knew that you desired him to be the one by your side for the rest of time.

He had been the only other person around your age when you and your family attended a special meeting on Caladan, and you could very well feel your heart beat faster and your cheeks burn hot at each of his furtive glance thrown your way and each slight smirk over either of your faces when your gaze met his.

Maybe leaving your home land and being sent to eventually move to Caladan wouldn’t be as bad as you had thought, after all.

And it wasn't. You quickly, borderline scarily quickly fell in love with Leto, you were sure of it by now. His manners were those of a man of respect, and he was kind and compassionate, he didn’t have the over excessive pride you would expect from a destined duke.

And ultimately, you grew to also be almost pretty sure that he felt the same way towards you, from the way he listened to you with no feigned interest whenever you shared stories with him, from the way his warm brown eyes so gently looked over at you, from the way he always made sure you were treated right.

You remembered it to be a warm evening when he officially confessed his love to you.

You had been walking mindlessly through seemingly never ending fields, talking about anything and everything for what felt like a lifetime, eventually stopping to lay down and watch the sun set.

Leto had settled on gently putting flowers in your hair while you told him about your childhood on your home land, smiling radiantly as he admired you lovingly, brushing your cheek with the back of his hand before he leaned in to kiss you.

Your own hand was quick to find his dark curls neatly slicked back as he hovered over you, the tip of his fingers delicately tracing your face and neck before he pulled away from your lips when it became absolutely necessary.

From there, the sunset and everything else became insignificant, everything could be crumbling around you and you wouldn’t pay it any mind; nothing mattered, not when Leto promised to love you until his very last breath here in the middle of nowhere.

So when you eventually had your parents visit you on Caladan and announce to you that you had been sent there for them to agree with the Atreides upon arranging a marriage with Leto, you couldn’t be happier and it couldn’t be more convenient; you would have chosen him anyway, if given the choice.

Leto had the competence of making everything seem so easy, and he turned out to be quick to ease your worries about your upcoming future as a duchess.

Even under the looming political pressure of your marriage, this wedding meant a starting point for the rest of your life, a part you could not wait to share with him, even if it meant a lot of responsibilities and changes.

Then so suddenly, all at once, it all fell apart, everything.

It was late in the night when you and Leto were laughing and dancing, rehearsing for the forthcoming wedding. Servants had knocked onto your shared room door, and Leto’s hand left your waist as he scurried away to answer the door, opening and making way for them to enter the room.

They came in with a polite nod, one of them unrolling a parchment letter, reading out loud to the both of you.

The letter was from your father, announcing the news that your mother had died while on a mission, resulting in the need of your presence at your home land to take over her legacy and responsibilities for a while.

You didn’t understand what it involved right away, maybe from the shock of the sudden, dreadful news, the loss of your mother too hard to swallow.

You didn’t understand that it meant that you and Leto were bound to be no more, that either of you were now assigned to different fates and responsibilities, that the marriage was therefore called off for the moment being.

And you quite certainly didn't realize that the night you spent tossing and turning around your shared bed with eyes wide open until the sunrise was the last night by his side, that the morning you left was the last time you would see him.

Until years later, what felt like a lifetime.

When you came back to Caladan for political and business reasons, it was only because of the absolute necessity of your presence, otherwise you wouldn't have shown up.

Finding him again after so long drowned you right back again in the same hollow feeling you endured the moment you were drawn apart years ago, and while you mirrored his polite nod and smirk, you couldn't help but still feel the pain of being estranged so brutally, of seeing him again after so many years.

He was wearing the slowly appearing gray streaks of hair beautifully, and the beard suited him like he was made for it; it made his handsome face look a bit more harsh and severe, but he was a duke now, after all.

You lightly cleared your throat as you made your way to leave the meeting once it was over, troubled as you could feel the weight of his gaze burning holes through you all along. You could feel your heart pound through your ribcage the exact same way it used to when he held you when you were younger, and you ultimately came to the rotten conclusion that your stay here in his presence would be a tough, challenging time for you, and that dwelling on the past had been a bad idea, exactly like you had anticipated it to be.

—

It was wonderful out there, just like you had remembered it to be. The view from the balcony offered you an endless panorama over Caladan and its lush lands, and while you loved your home land with your whole being, you couldn’t deny missing living on Caladan.

The fresh breeze of the night was nothing but pleasant, and even though you were slowly starting to feel goosebump growing over your skin, you figured the view of the sun starting to set was more important.

“I thought I could stay focused while in your presence.” you recognize his voice all too well, and you wonder if the shiver running down your spine is caused by his sudden apparition or the wind hitting you. “I was deeply wrong”

“Leto,” you chuckle sheepishly, blushing as you turn around and face him.

A bittersweet smile has quirked upon his face, and he steps further and approaches you. The years have been unkind to him, lines of wisdom and experience growing upon his face transforming him into a man hardened by duty. Yet, beneath the rough facade, you can still see the eyes and soul of the man you once knew and loved.

“Why only now?” he asks, a certain helplessness painted across his face.

“What?”

He sighs as he looks away, licks his lips as he walks besides you and grips the barrier of the balcony with both hands. You only hear the wind as you watch and wait for him to do, to say something.

“This should have been yours. All of this” he mutters, gaze fixed on the sight before him. The clouds look like cotton ripped apart and spread through the wide sky, and the sun setting over Caladan turns them into an abnormal color, one you wouldn't even be able to define. “I waited for you.” Leto declares, head turning to look back at you like he is trying to figure out how you feel or waiting for you to say something.

Your eyes close as a small exhale leaves your mouth. “Why should it matter now, Leto” you scoff, turning away to try to escape his gaze, heavier than you remember.

“It has always mattered” he declares, following your steps as you try to inch away from him. He calls your name in a weak plea, his hand coming to rest over your arm. “Look at me. Please”

You do. You turn back to him, and he looks at you like you will be slipping away from him any moment now, like you're just a ghost, like you're water in his bare hands. “Tell me you did not think of me all those years and I'll leave you alone.” he whispers feebly, face close to yours as he still holds onto your arm, and you can feel your breaths mingling from how close he is to you.

His unwavering gaze is locked on yours, desperately waiting for you to say something. Eventually, your lack of response speaks for itself, and he nods slightly. “That's what I thought.”

“Leto.”

His hands come to cup your face, holding it steady as with a sigh, his forehead rests against yours. Your eyelids fall shut under the weight of it all and you exhale softly, your hand wrapping around his wrist, stroking along his forearm.

“I have loved you since I met you. I should have found you and married you regardless.” he mutters, barely louder than a whisper. His declaration makes something flutter deep in your core, and you grimace like his words feel sour to hear. You should have done it differently, should have come back to Caladan after everything went back to normal after your mother's death.

“And your wife?” you rhetorically ask, with a dubious scoff.

“She's not– we never married.” he shakes his head, pulling away from your forehead to look back at you, your hand falling to your side again when you let go of his arm. His gaze and the way his eyebrows are angled weakly are conveying everything you need to know, confirming every conclusion you made.

Your lips part slightly, some part of you refusing to believe in what he's indirectly telling you, refusing to believe that he gave up on some part of his life waiting for you.

“We were promised a marriage together, a life together” he continues, taking hold of your hand, fingers lacing with yours tentatively. “I always hoped you would come back and we would resume our life together where it stopped.”

“Now still?” you weakly ask, equally pained and somehow flattered that he never really got over you.

Again, the lack of answer and his previous actions prove the point, and you hold his hand tighter when you swallow with difficulty. Your other hand slightly trembles when you reach to touch his face, settling to rest at his bearded cheek, and you smile weakly as you trace the lines that you never got to witness appear.

“We were so young” you smile, drawing one out of him. The corners of his lips turn upwards as his hand covers your own over his face, pulling it to bring it to his mouth to kiss your knuckles softly, the feeling of his warm breath over your skin taking you years back.

“Don't go back.” he begs against your hand, his voice wavering a little. There’s a glint in his eyes as his gaze darts up at you that makes it impossible for you to consider refusing and giving up on him again. “You belong here.”

Your eyebrows knit in uncertainty as you tear your gaze away from him, looking at the endless view again. You can't help but overthink every consequence coming back to Caladan is going to involve, for you as much as for Leto, and especially for his own concubine that is at this point already long forgotten by him.

This is unfair, but some part of you acknowledges your younger selves feelings and remembers how devastated you were to leave him; leaving again while knowing that he still cares after so many years and regrets not marrying you may hurt even more.

“This will make people talk, Leto.” you wince, looking back at him.

He shakes his head carefreely. “Let them.” he affirms with a dismissive scoff as his hands settle over your hips. You grin softly as he pulls you closer, and a soft exhale leaves your mouth when your arms wrap around his neck.

He takes a while to admire your face, how it has changed despite still remaining the one of the woman he fell in love with long ago.

When he kisses you, it is the exact same way he used to when you were young.

—

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houserautha · 13 days

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These Destined Ends

Part 9

Summary: Jessica fulfilled the wishes of the Bene Gesserits to produce a daughter. You’re now burdened with the task of not only marrying the na-Baron, but also bearing his child — the Kwisatz Haderach. Will you take your fate into your own hands? Or will it always belong to those who control you?

Pairings: Feyd-Rautha x F!Reader

Word Count: 3.9k

Warnings: kind of (?) sub!Feyd, oral sex f receiving (there’s an imbalance in oral sex but I promise reader shows him some love too), p in v, “no hands”

A/N 1.0: Two updates in one week?? I probably should edit this more but I’m just excited to release it hehe

Feyd drags his tongue down your navel, dipping into the divot of your belly button to lick out the poison. You’ve taken to creative methods of your daily dosages, the current which gives you shudders of delight. His tongue is warm and wet, his grin roguish, and his dark eyes sinfully gorgeous; there are certain instances when you can hardly stand to look at him, this being one of them. You honestly don’t know what he will see reflected in your own eyes.

His tongue darts out to capture any residual poison from his lips. “Are you alright?”

“Yes. Fine.” You sit up, pulling your shirt back down. Disappointment is evident on Feyd’s face. “Shouldn’t we be going?”

He pulls you to the edge of the table and nudges open your legs so that he might position himself between them. “They’ll wait.”

“We don’t want to anger them.”

Feyd’s tongue rolls in his cheek. “Don’t we?”

“No.” You hop off the table. “Come on.”

“You haven’t taken your dose yet.”

You fix him with an exasperated look. Feyd pours the measurements into the glass, then into his mouth. His expression is comically triumphant. You roll your eyes as you close the space between you, then press your mouth firmly to his.

His kiss is as dangerous as the poison itself, spilling out from his lips and down his chin, down your chin, coating the inside of your mouth as his tongue pushes into it. You greedily kiss him back, poison forgotten. It’s him that you need the daily dose of, a perilous addiction that would render you sickly without. And he pulls you in like he knows this, that it’s only the poison from his lips that you seek.

You withdraw, breathless and wiping at your chin. “Satisfied?”

“For now.”

Rabban is departing today for a political mission, one that neither you nor Feyd are privy to — to his chagrin. You were both requested by the Baron to attend his send off. As you stride beside Feyd to the thopter hangar, the sight of the Baron seizes you with burning hatred.

He floats next to Rabban, muttering something to him that you can’t hear. Both cease their talking when you arrive. Frankly, you don’t know if you want to tear out their throats or leave them to Feyd’s concubines.

Rabban wordlessly boards the thopter. It will take him to a more secure location to be delivered to a heighliner, from your understanding. As you observe the scene with thinly veiled disgust, you notice a commotion to one side — it’s the same Sardaukar soldier from before, along with a handful of others. Today they’re adorn in the typical Harkonnen armor, distinguishable only by the fuzz of closely shaved hair on their heads.

You grab Feyd’s arm, lean into him. “Who are they?”

“Sardaukar. Though I suspect you already knew that,” he says without tearing his gaze from them. “I don’t know what business they have with my rotten brother.”

“I don’t like it.”

“Neither do I.”

He breaks away from you and storms to the Baron. They share a short, heated exchange, one that has your stomach clenching. How he stood to even be near his uncle bewildered you, though you supposed in some sense that he was unable to completely divorce himself from the man. Feyd was his heir, after all. A fact that the Baron wields over him. Your hands form into fists.

“He said that the Emperor’s soldiers are assisting them in the mission. Something about a shared goal.”

You frown. Both of you stand silently as the soldiers climb into the thopter after Rabban, stirring dust as its wings snap out and then ascend into the rings of smog circling the hangar. The Baron glides toward you both.

“Your brother is a fine soldier,” he rasps, “I know I can rely on him to secure our objective.”

Feyd’s upper lip curls into a snarl. “He has plenty of time to considering he doesn’t have any other obligations.”

“There’s a reason I made you the na-Baron,” the Baron replies coolly. “Your brother has a different fate.”

This response unnerves you. You stare after his bulbous retreating form, then flick your gaze to your husband — Feyd’s entire body is rigid with fury. You wonder briefly if he had spoken to Rabban, and what he said if he did. The more days that have passed since your wedding, the less time you had to spend together.

You were coming up on one month now.

“We dont need to stay here any longer,” you tell him.

Feyd wrenches his arm from your grasp. He snaps, “I have something I need to tend to.”

And then somehow you were left alone in the hanger, a mixture of emotions forming within you. You wanted to chase after Feyd but your better senses warned you not to — he could be volatile like this, and you weren’t really in the mood for a verbal lashing.

Instead you wander the fortress grounds. It’s taken some time, but you’re finally used to the black sun. And the guards no longer believe that you’re an Atreides spy or, at least, any threat. You want to comment on this but it’s a nice freedom, and you nod to them as you pass by. Your aimless stroll is interrupted by a loud yelling, however, drawing you to the massive gates that barricade the fortress from the rest of Giedi Prime.

Before today, you’d never even seen them open.

There’s a crowd of citizens gathered outside, obviously agitated. Guards stall them from entering with their spears, though, to the credit of the citizens, they’re doing a fairly decent job of holding their own. You spot Asha amongst the number of servants aiding in the crowd control.

“What’s going on?” You ask.

“They’re here for their monthly audience with the na-Baron,” Asha explains, “but he’s refusing to meet with them. They aren’t happy.”

She grimaces as an angry shout pierces the air.

“Why is he refusing them?”

Asha casts you a sideways glance. “He’s the na-Baron, he doesn’t need a reason.”

You survey the crowd.

“Tell them that their na-Baroness will receive them.”

“What? Are you sure?” Asha stares at you as if you asked her to behead them all.

“Give me a few minutes, first.” You flash her a smile and then turn back towards where you came from, the clamor of the crowd subsiding.

In your chest, your heart pounds furiously. You didn’t even know Feyd took audience with the citizens, much less what to do with their requests. But you could handle it, you were sure. It was about time that you contributed to the baronship.

Quickly you change into a formal dress and then make your way to the throne room. Your footsteps ring out through the space as you climb the dais steps and take your place on your husband’s throne. It’s to the right of the Baron’s, not quite as grand, and you have half the mind to sit on it before the doors open and the citizens of Giedi Prime spill inside.

The first citizen is a woman, dressed in a worn white dress. Her eyes are sunken. “na-Baroness, we are grateful for you to receive us today.” The woman nervously licks her lips. “I wouldn’t know what to do without my stipend. None of us would.”

Those that can hear her nod their assent.

You do your best not to let your surprise show on your face. You wave a hand. “Of course.”

Most of the citizens are all there for similar reasons: their monthly allowance bestowed upon them by the na-Baron. You learned that families that served in the Harkonnen military received a slightly higher amount, including those retired from it. You were loathed to be impressed by Feyd but you couldn’t help but admire his rule — he was many things, but an excellent na-Baron happened to be one of them. He supported his people in ways that others would not have bothered to.

Of course, not everyone comes to you for money.

You settle a dispute between two neighbors arguing over property lines, and a factory employee declaring unfit working conditions. It rather surprisingly becomes very easy for you to delegate the matters of these people — you found you cared about their problems, making them your own. The crowd had dwindled down quite a bit when you’re faced with two men who can hardly look at each other.

“na-Baroness,” the taller one says. He introduces himself as Anagon.

The other man remains silent.

“We are here today for your gracious judgment,” Anagon continues, unbidden. “You see, this man has forsaken me and my family.”

You examine both men. Anagon is dressed in the style typical of nobles, the other in a simple tunic and pants. He refuses to meet your eyes.

“I see,” you say. “How so?”

“He stole my family’s ceremonial dagger. Straight from my manor!”

The other man finally says, “I didn’t!”

“He deserves the swiftest punishment for his crimes against me,” Anagon continues as if the other man never spoke, “the lower citizens of Giedi Prime must learn their place.”

Anagon’s face falls as you ask the other man, “And what do you say?”

“I-I did find the dagger but —” he raises his voice to be heard over the noble’s protests, “I found it while demolishing the old factory. It-It was buried under the building, lost and forgotten. I fully intended to return it to its owner.”

Anagon hisses, "You did not!"

"You can not know his intentions," you remind him pointedly, then, to the other man, "is this dagger here today? Let me see it."

"My-My name is Res," the man says as he approaches. He offers to you a ceremonial dagger, one that you notice is badly bent out of shape and tarnished. It certainly looks like it’s been buried under a factory.

“Did you know where the dagger was? Answer me truthfully, for I will know if you have lied.”

Anagon shifts his weight. “No, na-Baroness. But it is my family’s ceremonial dagger. It-It was misplaced in the civil war two generations ago.”

You gaze between Anagon and Res. Taking the dagger from the latter, you hand it blade-first to Anagon. “This relic belongs to you. But you must compensate Res for his troubles — you accused him wrongfully. It is not your right to put whoever you see fit into place.”

“Fine. And how do you recommend that I compensate him?” Anagon asks, clearly displeased with your decision.

“You will give him a job under your employ.”

You had sat in on quite a few political meetings with Feyd, and knew the factory that Res spoke of. It had to be demolished and thus left many workers displaced. Anagon, a man you knew only by name until today, was the wealthy head of a series of factories that produced weapons.

Anagon’s jaw flexes. “na-Baroness, there must be another way —”

“You will employ him or I will take that ceremonial dagger and cut your throat with it.”

“She’ll make quick work of it, though,” a familiar rasping voice says. You shift to discover Feyd in the doorway of one of the throne room entrances, the one used for servants. Anagon and Res both stare wide-eyed at him. “You heard her.”

Anagon and Res exchange a glance before the noble mutters something akin to an apology, and promise of employment. Anagon lingers, seemingly for Feyd’s disapproval or your ire, but when neither of you speak, he turns and storms away. Res blinks up at you gratefully.

“Thank you, na-Baroness. You are exceedingly generous and fair.”

You dip your chin. Res takes that as his invitation to leave, smiling softly as he does so.

“That’s it for today,” Feyd announces. “I will receive the rest of you tomorrow.”

The remaining crowd grumbles but filters out of the throne room, leaving you alone with Feyd. He stops on the stairs at the bottom of the dais and gazes up at you. “You belong on a throne.”

Your brows furrow, and you ignore him. “You did not have to intervene, I was managing it quite well.”

“Clearly.”

“Then why did you dismiss them?”

Feyd examines your face. “If a noble claims that a lower-class citizen stole from their house, the citizen would receive death. No questions asked.”

“What?” Outrage shoots through you. “That’s ridiculous. You saw what happened —”

“I’m not disagreeing with you, wife. I am merely stating the truth of the law.”

You bristle. “Do you suggest I call them back here and slaughter the poor man for something that he did not do?”

“While that would be entertaining,” Feyd retorts, “it would demean your decision. The only real danger of it is that the citizens of Giedi Prime will be disappointed if I receive them now.”

“Maybe for good reason,” you sniff. “Why did you desert them today? It is clear to me that these people rely on you.”

A shadow of anger passes over Feyd’s expression. “I was not equipped to handle their problems, which look minor in the face of my own. My emotions would’ve clouded my better judgment.”

“That’s no reason to leave them,” you counter.

“And what do you know of ruling?” Feyd snarls. He advances on you, still towering above you despite your position on the throne. “You played the part of doting daughter to the Duke for all these years. This is your first taste of it. Do not tell me how to rule over my people.”

“Our people,” you dryly correct, “as you married me and thus gave me equal power over them.”

He sneers. “Perhaps a mistake if you think you know more about ruling than me.”

You curb the flare of your irritation, barely, by lifting your chin and looking your husband squarely in the eyes. He is a storm, crackling with dangerous energy, ready to unleash upon you.

And you tell him, “I know plenty of ruling. Get down on your knees, Feyd-Rautha, so I may prove it to you.”

Recognition flickers in his eyes. As much as the beast in him calls to you, the opposite is just as true. You love him like this — wild and beyond your control, fraying at the seams of his sanity. You want to pull on the threads until he unravels completely.

You lean forward slightly. “I said kneel.”

Never breaking eye contact, Feyd sinks to his knees before you.

A heady surge of power crashes over you then, threatens to encompass you, the brightness of the sun after an eclipse. And you are drunk on it, gulping greedily from the golden chalice that it embodies.

“You pretend that I am nothing but a duke’s daughter,” you hiss, “when I am your wife, the wife of the na-Baron. You say I know nothing of rule and yet here you are, submitting to me. How does that speak to your assumptions?”

Feyd says nothing. His gaze burns you.

You continue, unbidden, “I should punish you for your impudence. Tell me, na-Baron, what does your law say of this?”

“It says whatever you would like,” he rasps.

You can see his cock straining against his pants, feel the heat of his desire. And yet he gazes upon you with utter devotion, ready to follow out your orders without hesitation.

“I would like to put that mouth of yours to better use than making false claims.”

Feyd wavers.

“No hands,” you instruct.

You do him the favor of hiking the skirt of your dress up around your hips, then spread your legs. His tongue darts out to wet his lips as he marvels you. With the slightest indication of your chin, he all but crawls closer to you, breath fanning the sensitive skin of your thighs. He moves as if to brace his hands on either side of you and you press the toe of your heel to his cock.

“No hands,” you repeat, alleviating the pressure on him only once he’s locked his hands behind his back. A frustrated groan rumbles through his chest, eyes flashing. You say, “Continue.”

Your back bows as his cheeks nuzzle up against your thighs, his mouth ghosting over your cunt with perverse refrain. Unwittingly, you snap your hips to meet him — you didn’t tell him to tease you, you wanted him to fuck you with his mouth, with his stupidly plush lips. Feyd’s breathy laugh warms your exposed entrance, a stark contrast to the cool air of the room, of the throne itself.

Finally he presses his mouth to your entrance and licks a stripe of your center. You shiver in delight. He drags his tongue through your slick folds, slow and savory, deliberately avoiding your clit. Feyd has no hair for you to anchor yourself so instead you grab the base of his neck and push him closer; there’s no doubt in your mind that he’s strong enough to resist you, but he assents to your touch. Feyd’s tongue spears you, stroking your inner walls before withdrawing and paying attention to your aching bud. His mouth closes over your clit and sucks.

The action sends a jolt of pleasure straight to your core. You hold him to you, giving him no other option but to worship you, his licking and sucking becoming almost lewd, fervent, coating his chin with your wetness as he laps at you.

You pull on the back of his armor. Feyd releases his mouth from your cunt, shoulders heaving from his effort. You behold him like this — yielding to you, slick with your moisture, on his knees — and you feel a pulse of want. It drives you to kiss him, to push your tongue into his mouth and taste yourself. Feyd kisses you back just as passionately, mouth working to devour you, devour every logical thought you might conjure.

“Now,” you say, breathless, “I want you to fuck me right here on your throne, so the next time you doubt my competence you remember this moment.”

Feyd nods eagerly. “Yes.”

“Yes?”

“Yes, na-Baroness,” he amends, rasping.

You smirk at him, pat his cheek. Feyd remains kneeling as you step from the throne. His body quivers with the slightest hint of his lust, visible to your eye as you circle him from behind. Drinking in his broad shoulders, his tapered waist, the shape of his ass, you swallow, exhilarated by your power and the man before you.

“Sit down. On the throne.”

Feyd obeys. He moves his hands from behind his back to the armrests. There’s a tension in the line of his jaw that tells you it’s taking every ounce of his strength not to touch you.

You set to removing his armor. “Lift,” you instruct and he does as you ask so that you can slide his pants down. His cock springs forth, slapping up against his toned stomach. You trail the backs of your nails up his length, under the curve of his head, and Feyd nearly whimpers at the contact.

You straddle him, and his entire body coils. There’s a tremendous release of endorphins when you finally sink down on his cock, clenching your walls and taking him all in. Feyd groans. You wiggle your hips appreciatively and let yourself adjust. He bucks into you then slightly, which you respond to with an agonizingly slow withdraw, lifting up on your knees so that he’s once more exposed to the cool air. His cock twitches.

“Fuck,” he all but seethes.

You slam back down on him and he howls out. Joining him with a cry of pleasure, his cock piercing you almost painfully, you set a violent, unsteady pace, instincts guiding you to seek out your own orgasm. It washes over you too quickly, stills you as it takes a hold over your senses.

“Please,” Feyd mutters. He grinds against your cunt, eager to keep up the friction.

You hum “Please what?”

“Please let me touch you,” he begs, “please, na-Baroness.”

You pump his cock slowly, lazily, and he grits his teeth in agony. Feyd trembles. “Fine,” you say, his hands on you before you can even finish the word. His touch is electric.

Feyd grabs hold of you, curls his fingers into the dip at your lower spine, and thrusts with you, over and over. He’s the one sitting on the throne but you are the one in charge — holding power over him by the snap of your hips, the way your cunt coaxes out his orgasm, your lips on his neck. And he is all too willing to be the slave to your pleasure, aiding you to orgasm twice more before finally coming inside you.

His thick cum fills you. You moan into the juncture of his shoulder as he wrings his own pleasure from you, shuddering, breath warming the side of your face.

“I-I won’t make that mistake again,” he rasps.

You can’t help but laugh. “Mm, pity. I quite enjoyed it.”

“I didn’t say I didn’t enjoy it,” Feyd says. His expression turns into one of introspection. “I’ve never…given…myself to someone like that before. Not on purpose.”

Your heart twinges. “I wouldn’t have —”

“No. No apologies. I did it willingly. It was a show of…trust.”

The pain you feel at his behalf melts away to something even more confusing and impossible to name. You don’t say anything as you both adjust yourselves; you, slightly uncomfortable as his cum slides down your thighs, him, looking neither abashed at his admittance nor pleased. Just…content. A look you’ve never noticed before gracing his handsome features.

Unspoken between you, the two of you return to your quarters. Fatigue seizes you. But there’s a tiny bird trapped in your chest that beats its wings against your rib cage — hope. A foolish, tragic brush of promise that you wish to silence.

From your place on the bed, where you collapsed upon arrival, you covertly watch Feyd. He cleaned you, gave you a new dress to wear, and now is ensuring that he’s fit for the view of others. You trace the shape of his body, so achingly familiar to you, hidden mostly under his armor. He catches you staring and lifts a brow, dark eyes glinting.

“Yes, wife?” He turns. “Or should I say, na-Baroness?”

You grin at him.

Sitting on the tip of your tongue, a confession lies, your judgement loosened by this moment of peace between you. You want to tell him about the beating of your heart, the way that he’s properly — unavoidably — invaded your mind, but the opportunity passes as soon as you have the chance to grasp it.

There’s a commotion outside of your quarters.

Feyd beats you to the door, shields you with his body as you both survey the servants pacing back and forth. They seem to be mumbling between each other hastily, worriedly, obviously uncertain about what to do with themselves. You can’t miss their pitying glances.

“What’s going on?” You ask.

Feyd’s expression is grave. “I don’t know.” He grabs the arm of one of the passing servants. “Tell me what’s happening.”

“na-Baron!” The servant’s eyes widen. “I-I don’t know, we haven’t been told —”

Suddenly you hear your name being called over the clamor. Asha elbows her way through the servants, face stricken, and grabs you by circling her arms around your neck. “Y/N, I’m so sorry —”

“What? What are you sorry for?”

She holds you at arms length. There are tears in her eyes. “The House of Atreides has fallen.”

A/N 2.0: I’m sorry Leto, you don’t survive in this universe either😭😭😭 Also, part 2 of Feyd and reader solving their disputes with fucking.

For the life of me I can’t remember who but I dedicate this chapter to whoever reblogged Part 7 and added something like “I wish Feyd would fuck away my disbelief and insecurities”. Because same.

Part Ten

Taglist:

@moonsoulk @heartarianagran @torchbearerkyle @unicoreads @taleah @mamawiggers1980 @jovialeggsbailiffsoul @harkonnin @avidreader73 @unicorntrooper @beebeechaos @kamcrazy123 @wo-ming-bai @kpopnstarwars @m-indkiller @dacreshoney @stopeatread

#feyd rautha #dune #feyd x reader #feyd x you #fanfic writing #writers on tumblr #writing #feyd smut #fanfic #feyd rautha harkonnen #yes na-baroness #why talk when we can fuck #I’m sorry Leto #you gorgeous man #but you were kind of a dick to reader so

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queenofinys · 1 month

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i cannot live without my soul — emily bronte, wuthering heights

#dune #duneedit #lady jessica #leto atreides #leto x jessica #rebecca ferguson #rfergusonedit #oscarisaacedit #oscar isaac #wuthering heights #filmedit #film #adaptationsdaily #usergif #filmgifs #filmtvsource #scifiedit #maya edits #otp: i should've married you

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faetreides · 20 days

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summary: the discovery of a long hidden planet operating outside of the emperor’s rule threatens to upend the balance between the great houses and shift the tides of war. (ongoing series)

pairings: paul atreides x reader , chani x reader, leto atreides x reader, lady jessica x reader, irulan x reader, feyd rautha x reader (AFAB crown heir!reader)

cw: reverse harem type crack treated seriously, cosmic horror elements, undecided/possibly ambiguous endgame, dark/yandere behavior & themes, comedic undertones, dark & nsfw content, canon compliant as much as possible but there will be gaps in my memory, past leto & jessica (they split after she became a reverend mother)/past paul & chani, each character pursues reader separately, oc planet & oc house for reader, pretend like it still makes sense for leto to be there, don’t think too hard about the logistics of this in general, vintage sci fi inspired, i just wanted to have a silly unrealistic series where it’s all about the reader lmao

series masterlist:

coming soon !

1. stardust fallout

10.

tag list (ask to be added or removed, NO MINORS):

youngestxhearts, tian-monique, angel-gabriella, isnt-itstrange, flower-frog, aerangi, saturnhas82moons, ch0co1atech1p, mcmisbehaving, zoeaxrodriguez22, hellomadamebutterfly, sh4d0w69he4rt, moonsoulk, skythighs, laennetargaryenskywalker, nexilismirus, howibecameabadassbitch, hoely-maria, aubs444, timhalamet, allison-119, your-favorite-god, homopheli, droopycoquette

- faetreides 2024

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controld3vil · 8 days

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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.

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marc-spectorr · 1 month

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𝒔𝒊𝒏𝒌 𝒐𝒓 𝒔𝒘𝒊𝒎

pairing: duke leto atreides x fem!reader

summary: It's the night before your wedding to Duke Leto Atreides and he finds you struck by panic about your future in Caladan.

warnings: 3.1k wc. arranged marriage, panic attack, anxiety, mentions of conceiving. my limited dune-lore knowledge. soft!leto.

a/n: first leto fic ahhh!! i may or may not write more parts to this in the future. i had so many ideas but if i wrote them all in one fic, it would be a long one (not to mention it would take 1001 years to finish and post). anyway, feedback is very much appreciated! hope you enjoy :)

—

Caladan.

There is a beauty to it that you cannot deny. It's captivating from the very first glance. An indescribable sight, unparalleled to anywhere else in the universe.

Of all the worlds you could be in at this moment, a part of you is glad it's Caladan. In spite of the circumstances that brought you here, you try to be grateful for it. Surely, there are worse places to live on than this.

Here, the ocean is vast, stretching far beyond the starlit horizon. A fresh breeze carries the salty scent of the water towards you. It tickles your skin as if it were a feather, the light coolness sending goosebumps along your arms. You tug your shawl more closely around your shoulders.

It is far from the hot desert landscape you know and love. Despite its recent hardships, that planet was once home to you. It still is. You wonder how long it will be before you consider Caladan as such. It's been one week since your arrival, and you're in a period of adjustment, which in truth, has not been too easy.

The beach is empty, unsurprising as the moon has moved far past its highest point in the sky. You can't sleep. You haven't for so long. Similar to all the nights prior, you had tossed and turned endlessly under silken sheets before deciding to go for a walk. You found no comfort in your bed despite the mattress beneath you being the softest there ever was.

It could be the chambers themselves, surrounded by four dark walls that are still very much foreign to you. You must get used to it, you remind yourself. In fact, it's more than just a room that you must get used to.

Tomorrow, your life will change more than it already has when you moved to Caladan.

Tomorrow is the wedding—your wedding. Many esteemed members of the Great Houses will be in attendance, alongside your closest family and friends, who are now worlds away from you. They will all be present to witness you exchange vows with Duke Leto Atreides, a man you barely know.

You exhale a deep, long sigh and draw your knees under your chin. Gentle waves lap onto the shore, the white foam almost reaching your toes before ebbing away. You watch in comfortable silence, the hypnotic rhythm of the waves creating a sense of calm.

Unwittingly, your mind combs through recent events. You spent plenty of these last few days surrounded by those more interested in your upcoming nuptials than you are. You've grown weary of feigning smiles every second in their company, of pretending to be okay when you are far from it.

You feel alone. You are alone.

It’s a sacrifice—leaving behind the life you had to help your struggling home world. Things are changing faster than the time you have to process them. But you can't afford to wait—the sooner you marry Leto, the sooner your father and your people's burdens will go away.

You are doing the right thing. The noble thing. It's what you were raised to do. The last thing you wish is to be seen as a disappointment.

Still, it doesn't mean you have your worries and doubts. You lack experience, having never courted someone before. You question whether or not you would be fit to be a wife to the stranger who is the Duke of Caladan. You're well aware of the responsibilities you would have to uphold, the expectation that one day you will need to bear him an heir…

You shut your eyes, trying to push past the feeling of your heart starting to pick up and thud heavily against your ribs. But the pit of anxiety gnawing at your stomach grows and grows, and it's a losing battle. Not even the ocean waves that mesmerized you moments ago could distract you from the mounting panic inside.

Your thoughts batter you from within like a storm raging out of control. The pressure and expectations others have on you— that you have on yourself— can't be stopped.

They're too loud; they refuse to be ignored this time around.

Your body trembles, your breaths are short and shallow, and it feels like you are drowning; you're helplessly caught in a dangerous current that pulls you under the water. The weight in your chest drags you down and deeper, sinking and sinking until you hit the very bottom of the depths of your own mind, deprived of any air, any light.

It's only until a voice calls out your name over and over again that you resurface. Warm, gentle hands urge you to sit right back up, and you don't have it in you to fight against them. You don't remember curling up on your side, wound in a tight little ball, nearly burrowing yourself into the sand bed as if wanting to be swallowed whole.

"Breathe, darling... Listen to my voice and just breathe, alright? One... two... three..."

You can't see him, not through the hot, stinging tears obscuring your eyes. But you can hear him. His voice's hazy, soft lull is strangely familiar, yet you cannot place whose it is.

He coaxes you repeatedly, and you focus on his words as if they are your one and only lifeline—as if they are the calming waves reaching the shoreline.

You do as he says. You breathe.

"One... two... three... That's it, my lady. Deep breaths for me, and again— one... two... three... Good girl, and again. Breathe..."

You're unsure how long has passed by the time your heart slows, and your breathing evens out. Your blurred vision clears once your tears have settled, and your eyes widen when you recognize the face before you.

Duke Leto Atreides kneels beside you, dressed in a manner you have never seen him in. He has on a loose white shirt and dark lounge bottoms, his graying head of curls mussed by the wind blowing past.

You're uncertain why he's at the beach alone at this late hour despite being seemingly ready for bed. Perhaps concerned guards informed him of your wandering about the castle in the dead of night. Did he come all this way in search of you?

Leto’s dark eyes search your face for the reason of your distress. Embarrassment sweeps over your cheeks— you cannot imagine how much of a pitiful mess you look. God, what if you've ruined it? What if seeing you this way, so weak, and frightened, and pathetic, has Leto wishing to rescind his agreement to marry you? What if, what if—

"Hey, shh… Relax. There is no need to fret," Leto soothes. He must have seen the worry in your eyes, but instead of ridicule as you anticipated, he looks at you with concern.

You cast your gaze down, catching sight of your hand in his. He hasn't let go of it since finding you, and when he notices your muscles tense up from the anxiety that seizes your body once more, he squeezes.

Leto squeezes your hand firmly but nowhere near the point of pain. His words are a quiet murmur in your ears. "Don't go back there, darling. Stay here, on this beach. Squeeze my hand back so I know you're here with me. Can you do that for me, please?"

With his other hand, Leto places a finger under your chin to tip it upwards, meeting your eyes. Again, he holds your hand tightly and brushes his thumb over your knuckles. You concentrate on him, matching your breaths to his. The tension starts to slip away bit by bit, and when it does, you finally squeeze his hand back.

"There you go. Just breathe, you're alright," Leto murmurs with a small smile. It dawns on you how close he is when the sound of the ocean becomes second to his voice. "Better?"

You swallow, then nod following a brief pause, not trusting yourself to speak.

Moving slowly so as not to startle you, Leto picks up your shawl from the ground, dusting it clean of grains of sand before draping it over your shoulders.

You expect him to leave, seeing you have regained some semblance of composure. You much prefer that he would. You can't handle explaining to Leto what was wrong. Is wrong.

The air turns silent as you face the water, wiping the dried-up tears from your cheeks with your fingers. You don't see Leto in your peripheral vision, but he's there, watching you. You can feel it.

"Here," you hear Leto say. Glancing to the side, you find him still sitting next to you. He offers his handkerchief, gently motioning it toward you when he senses your hesitation.

With the slightest smile, you accept the piece of cloth, whispering a "thanks" and looking away.

It occurs to you then that this is your first true moment with Leto. Before today, you had only seen glimpses of him. The most time you have spent with him was during your first encounter, and even then, it wasn't for long.

You chalked it up to Leto having no genuine interest in you. Why would he? He has duties that are much more pressing than entertaining you.

It's not much of a surprise. It would be wrong of you to expect for more. Ultimately, this marriage is not one for love but born out of necessity. A political alliance. A guarantee that your people will be well taken care of. That's the agreement.

Not to mention, you've heard them— those hushed talks amongst the servants and guards about how Caladan does not stand to gain anything from the union.

They are not wrong; many have supposedly expressed concern, including members of the Duke's inner circle. You wonder if he will come to regret his decision one day.

"You've had quite a fright there."

Leto's voice cuts through the silence between you. He shuffles from behind, sitting where he can better see you. You stop yourself from glancing down; it would be rude, and you don't want to tarnish both your image and your family's name even more than you already have.

"I-I am deeply sorry, my lord. You shouldn't have to see that," you manage to get out, catching the way Leto's brows knit together in response.

"There's no shame in such. Why apologize?" he asks you in a soft tone. "And please, there's no need for formalities. Call me Leto. After all, we are betrothed to one another."

Your throat suddenly dries at the reminder that the man before you is your soon-to-be husband. You wring your hands in your lap and give him a nod, skirting from answering his earlier question.

Leto is quick to pick up your nervousness. You can almost see his brain working to piece it all together and grasp what was happening when he stumbled upon you.

You dread what words Leto might say, fearing they will be judgments made against you. You hide from his piercing stare, picking at your nails until a pair of rough yet gentle hands gathers yours, halting you.

Leto squeezes your hands softly, very much like he did before, and it soothes the part of you that has always ached but you could never get rid of.

"You do not have to carry your burdens alone, my lady," Leto murmurs, leaning to catch your eyes once more, and he does. "Whatever it is, unload it on me. Now, tell me what's wrong."

It's almost cruel that your instinct is to doubt him. But if the sincerity bleeding into his voice wasn't enough for you to give him a chance, then it's the tenderness in his gaze. You see the understanding in them, the concern and genuine desire to ease your troubles away.

Your initial perception of Leto has been wrong. You've been wary of him. Intimidated. But this is no man holding no care for you. He could have easily walked away after finding you amidst a fit. Instead, he stayed. He's here when you were convinced he would never find the time to be.

You open up to Leto like a floodgate, admitting to him the thoughts that plagued your mind from the day you learned about this marital arrangement, your nervousness for tomorrow's wedding and your fear of solitude in Caladan in the days that would follow.

You feel selfish, guilty even, for saying all of this out loud. You have no right to complain when the locals here have treated you with only kindness. Others would dream of being in your shoes—of living in a beautiful land, gaining an honorable title, and having a husband who would make you the envy of many.

Why must a blessing cause you great grief?

Leto listens to every word with undivided attention. He lets you speak freely and honestly, never once interfering between your sobs and sentences. He clears his throat only when the whispering waves of the ocean have lingered in the space between the two for some time.

"You are right when you said some of my advisors opposed me marrying you," Leto begins softly, gauging every bit of your reaction as he speaks. "They told me it would bring no benefit to House Atreides—that all we'll do is use up precious time and resources for a dying planet already beyond saving. Their words, not mine."

There is a quiet beat. Leto glances towards the horizon, where the first faint inklings of dawn break through the skies. He continues: "I realized then that those men do not uphold the same values I believe in. Caladan has more than enough riches to go around. There is no humanity in turning a blind eye to people's suffering—especially when we have it in our power to provide aid.

"I've had plenty of disagreements with my advisors, but I couldn't allow those without hearts to remain on my council. My lack of presence is not because I had no interest in getting to know you. Rather, I was ensuring those who showed little care for my bride and her ancestral land no longer served as advisors of mine—a task that regrettably stole time I would have spent with you."

You fall silent. The breath that leaves you seemingly takes more of the load on your being. Your respect for Leto grows. You see now the kind, thoughtful, benevolent man he is.

How could you have been so wrong about him? You'd been irrational, too assuming. So afraid he would turn out to be the complete opposite when he gave you no valid reason that he's such. You should not have been quick to judge his character when you had known nothing about him in the first place.

"I... thank you, my lor—Leto," you eventually say, turning to him. Shame and remorse cling to your tongue. "I am terribly sorry again. Had my mind been sound, I would've realized my distress is unwarranted."

"Nonsense. You're overwhelmed; your worries were reasonable. All I want is the two of us to be on the same page," Leto replies. The warm smile that adorns his lips when you correct yourself and address him by name lingers. “Let's start over, shall we then?"

You watch as he stands on his feet, reaching out his hand towards you. With Leto's help, you pull yourself up from the sandy floor, shaking off the pins and needles stinging your limbs. He holds his hand out once more, this time for a handshake.

"Hello, I am Leto and welcome to Caladan. It is a pleasure to meet you and an honor to have your presence here."

A smile blooms across your face as you shake his hand, formally introducing yourself to Leto the way he had. "I cannot thank you enough for agreeing to this. I, my father, and our people are eternally grateful for your generosity."

Leto makes a small bow of his head, capturing your hand between his own. Something inside you feels lighter now. The air around you, once thick like water, isn't anymore.

"You will no longer have to worry about your home world. I will make certain they receive all that they need—as for you, as well. I am here for you, even if it's simply as an ear to listen."

A pause. Leto's voice melts a touch softer. He looks at you with eyes deep and brown as the bark of a pine. "In a matter of hours, you and I will wed. It's merely for formality's sake. What goes on between us as husband and wife is nobody's business but ours. Please know that I ask for and expect nothing in return for agreeing to this arrangement. You will never be forced to do anything you do not wish to. Ever. Is that understood?"

You take in Leto's words, becoming aware of the unspoken ones, those hidden between the lines. Their implications settle on you, and you let out a quiet breath of relief into the air.

"I do," you assure before adding, for what could be the hundredth time since Leto has joined you, "Thank you."

“You’re welcome, my lady.”

The sun peaks over the skyline, casting bright golden rays over Caladan. Leto briefly glances in the distance, the silver strands of his mane and beard catching the light, and they glimmer before your eyes. He smiles wide, the lines on his face crinkling as he watches the sunrise.

You also find yourself smiling, spending a moment more studying Leto's profile before turning to what's ahead of you.

Caladan takes your breath away, even more so in the daylight. You can fully appreciate it now that the storms in your mind have passed, and it's as clear as the skies.

"It's a beautiful day to get married." Leto remarks as the two of you gaze out to the water. After basking in the peaceful silence, he meets your eyes again, offering you his arm like a gentleman would. "Come, let me escort you back to your room. We both should rest up a bit before the festivities start."

Nodding in agreement, you quietly say goodbye to the ocean and allow Leto to guide you away from the beach. The sand beneath your shoes eventually turns to a rocky pathway at the foot of Castle Caladan, its grandeur towering over you.

A warm hand slips into yours.

"From now on, you will never feel alone," Leto says, pressing a soft squeeze to your hand. His hold is comforting, and reassuring. “You will always have me at your side, darling. I promise you that."

You smile at Leto, feeling something tender unfold in your chest when he returns a smile of his own.

You believe him, and for once, you think you will be okay.

—

taglist: @pigeonmama

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#leto atreides x reader #duke leto x reader #dune fanfic #duke leto atreides fanfic #leto atreides fanfic #leto atreides x you #oscar isaac #oscar isaac x reader #my fics

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thewordypeach · 1 year

Text

Cherry Waves

pairing: Paul Atreides x fem!reader word count: 9.2k warnings: fluffy smut. virginity. oral (m receiving), fingering, unprotected p in v, vague mention of dom/sub, breeding kink?!?!?, etc. chubby reader, no use of y/n (however your name is daisy lol) summary: you consummate the arranged marriage to your new husband, paul atreides. author's note: this is my second story that i am posting! i've been working on this one for awhile now... absolutely adore Paul Atreides and Dune. watched both movies like 5 times and just finished up the book! waiting for the next one from the library :) also Timothée's hair in this film is just ungodly and totally unfair - like i don't know if i want to be his hair or have it?? anyways, it's fluff with smut or smut with fluff??? its cute and dirty. that is all. thank you for reading!!!!! addendum: 05/04/23 - this is picking up reads because of Dune 2 promo and i just wanted to let you know that it's poorly edited, and a sequel will be coming soon.

For the first time since you landed on Caladan, the rain has finally stopped. And for the first time since you arrived, you are completely alone with him. Your husband. You haven’t spoken more than two words to him; you’ve been nothing but frightened for the last week, afraid of your new life on this new planet. You know you are going to have to accept this new life because you have no other choice. The other thing you are going to have to accept is him.

Paul Atreides.

You watch as he kneels before a delicate blossom, eyes fixed upon the intricate folds and hues of its magenta petals. His once sharp features have softened, the angles smoothed into an expression of wonder and reverence. You’ve seen this look of his before but can’t seem to place it. His slender fingers reach out and touch the velvety surface of the flower as if he were under its spell. His dark hair, wild and unkept, falls in loose waves around his face.

While you can’t help but notice how breathtakingly handsome Paul is, it’s not his looks that initially drew you in, but rather it is his quiet intensity that captivated your attention. He turns and his green orbs take a quick scan of you. His eyes have always held a depth of knowledge and experience far beyond his years, and even now as he observes you, he knows something you don’t.

“The flowers on Caladan are a wonder to behold,” He says tepidly, almost as if he’s afraid of scaring you away. He knows you’ve been on edge the last few days, practically jumping out of your skin every time he speaks to you. He straightens, his lean frame moving gracefully as he strides toward you. “Each one is so unique, with its own fragrance and beauty. Some are delicate and sweet, like the jasmine that grows near the waterfalls, while others are bold and robust, like the wild roses that climb the cliffs.”

You are frozen in place, knees trembling beneath your skirt. Paul stops when he is in front of you, his body mere inches away. Those eyes of his, perfectly green like the forest that surrounds the two of you, sparkle with reverence. He’s been in disbelief at how strikingly beautiful you are and how you don’t even realize it. The thought of you not knowing your strength or beauty brings a sadness to him that he can’t shake; it brings forth a determination to help you see and understand your true worth.

Gently, he raises his hand and touches a finger to your temple, sweeping away a piece of black hair. Underneath the light, the strands of hair shimmer with a blue hue. He moves his attention back to your face, “Caladan didn’t have daisies until you,”

When it comes to you, Paul can’t help but be tender. He knows you’ve been through so much. He sees the turmoil etched upon your face; Paul is afraid your sadness and fright will be permanent, and he does not want to go forward if you are intimidated by him. The corners of his lips pull down, shaking as he confronts you, “I… I know that you are scared of me, Daisy,”

Your throat tightens. You aren’t scared of Paul but rather, you are scared of what lies ahead in your future with him. He’s the son of Duke Leto Atreides; Paul has responsibilities that you never dreamed of. Folding your arms around your body, you swallow dryly and think of what to say with careful consideration because you can tell that Paul is growing frustrated with your lack of reciprocity.

“My lord,” The way you regard him by his formal title makes his chest constrict. He does not want such formalities when it’s just the two of you but he bites back the urge to correct you. He impatiently awaits the rest of your words. Your eyes cast downward, afraid to look him in the eye as you confess, “I’m not scared of you. I’m scared of the responsibilities that come with being your wife. I do not want to burden House Atreides.”

Concern floods Paul’s face and he is quick to shake his head. His brow knits together and he rushes to speak, the words tumbling out before he can think about what he’s saying, “Daisy, you need to understand that I didn’t choose this life either -”

He stops and inhales deeply to calm himself. Paul takes a step closer and the gap between your bodies narrows. Immediately, you can’t help but notice how his scent is a tantalizing combination of rain and a woody floral. It makes you think of safety. Paul drops his voice to a whisper, “I have responsibilities to House Atreides that I can’t simply ignore. But that doesn’t mean I don’t care about you or that I won’t do everything in my power to protect you.”

“You don’t even know me,” Your voice shakes with emotion. This isn’t how you address nobility but damn Paul’s title. His status brings forth an apprehension that claws inside your already rattled heart. You have known each other for less than ten days and yet here he is, declaring protection with everything he has. However, despite his best effort you still feel like a burden. He’s too young to feel like this - he has his entire life ahead of him and now? He has a wife to take care of. Your eyes snap up and you breathe out, “You shouldn’t have to deal with this, any of this…”

Paul studies your face, sensing your doubts and your burdens. Your eyes remain clouded with fear and melancholy. Oh, how Paul yearns to alleviate your concerns and set your mind at ease, but he feels helpless in doing so. His father never taught him how to be a loving husband; Paul is only schooled in politics and the responsibilities of a Duke. Navigating the complexity of matrimony has never been part of his training.

“I understand that this might be difficult for you to understand,” He cups your face and caresses your cheek with his thumb. Paul realizes this is the most affectionate he’s ever been with someone and it breaks his heart knowing this is the first time you are on the receiving end. He silently vows to give you all the love he has. As he speaks, warmth radiates off his words, “You are not a burden, and you will never be a burden to me because we are in this together, Daisy. You are my family now. I promise we will figure this out, together.”

Tears swell in your eyes, “I’m sorry, m’lord -”

“Daisy,” He sharply cuts you off, “You don’t have to apologize - none of this is your fault, okay?”

Paul leans his forehead against yours, “We are a team now. You are my wife and I will do everything I can to protect you.”

You close your eyes, letting the tears fall down your cheeks. Paul is quick to wipe them away and much to your surprise, he kisses each of your eyelids. Your hands cling to his waist, suddenly desperate to keep him close. Paul notices the change and feels your urgency as if you are afraid of him slipping away. He responds by planting butterfly kisses on every inch of skin he can reach. More tears crash down and Paul sweeps them away. You can’t help but giggle at the valiant effort that your husband is making to make you feel better.

The sound of your giggle makes Paul giddy and it causes his stomach to flip. He’s never felt like this before. His lips stretch into a smile as he continues to assault your beautiful face with endless amounts of affection. Paul stops for a brief moment, pulling away to see how your face has brightened. You look like sunshine now and it leaves him breathless.

Your eyes flutter open, wanting to see why your husband has stopped. Paul is peering at you with so much love and admiration that it makes your breath hitch inside your chest. You have never felt so safe and so adored. A look flickers across his verdant eyes and before you can say anything, Paul captures your lips with his.

Technically, this is not the first time he has kissed you but this kiss is exceptionally better than the one you were forced to share at the ceremony. This kiss felt natural and it felt right. There is a certain innocence to how he is applying soft pressure against your lips. Almost as if he’s afraid of breaking you. You want more, no, you need more. You can’t get enough and truth be told, neither can Paul. A desire ignites inside him and his stomach coils as something stirs inside his pants -

“Paul!”

The interruption causes you to jump but for Paul, the interruption of Gurney Halleck angers him. You are blushing at being caught in a compromising position, hiding your face against Paul’s chest as the future Duke turns to the weapon teacher. Annoyed, Paul scowls at the smirk on Gurney’s face. Gurney didn’t think Paul had it in him because truthfully, Gurney didn’t support the arranged marriage; he had his own misgivings and predictions about you. But upon seeing this revelation, Gurney’s opinion swiftly changed.

“My apologies for the interruption,” Gurney clears his throat, “My lord, may I remind you that your weapon’s master doesn’t like to be kept waiting…”

Paul glares at Gurney before turning his attention back to you, his face softening into that of a lovesick puppy. Your face is still pressing into his chest. Gently, he lifts your head and sweetly kisses your cheek, murmuring, “I will see you later, okay?”

Unwillingly, Paul tears himself away from you and stalks toward Gurney who is patiently waiting by the edge of the garden. Gurney, having known Paul since he was a wee little one, chuckles at the bulge in the young master’s pants. When Paul is close enough, Gurney leans over and mutters, “May I suggest a cold shower before training?”

Paul’s face turns bright red upon realizing what Gurney is talking about.

Throughout weapon training, Paul is distracted. His thoughts are consumed by you. Gurney notices and finds himself pushing the young boy harder, and harder. Paul mustn’t give in to thoughts of temptation. Gurney barks order after order, hitting Paul over and over until the boy is on the ground, huffing and puffing, sweat pouring down his face.

A look of determination etches upon Paul’s face as he lifts himself from the ground, swinging his blade around and glaring at Gurney. Paul is about to lunge at his weapon’s trainer but Gurney makes the quick decision to draw the session to a close because it’s clear, they won’t get much farther than this.

“Paul,” Gurney orders, raising his hand for the boy to halt, “That’s enough for today,”

“I’m not done yet,” Paul hisses, clutching the handle of his blade. He eyes as Gurney walks over to the table of weapons and begins to clean them, buffing the blade until it shines.

“Your skills are improving Paul,” Gurney says gruffly, “But there’s something else you need to learn if you want to be a good husband,”

Paul looks at Gurney with a quizzical look, unsure of how being a husband has anything to do with a training session. The young master huffs, “What are you talking about, Gurney?”

“What I mean, boy, is that being a good husband takes more than just sword skills,” Gurney replies, his tone serious. “You need to have control over your thoughts.”

Paul blushes, had it really been that obvious? He sheepishly admits, “I… I guess I was a bit distracted...”

“A bit?” Gurney guffaws, throwing his head back. Paul’s naivety is something else. He presses, “You spent two hours thinking of your wife - this type of distraction is unacceptable, young master Paul. What are you going to do when an enemy has overpowered you?”

“I have my shield -” Gurney is swift to penetrate the forcefield of an unsuspecting Paul. The defence shield vibrates at the intrusion causing Paul to stumble, his green eyes snap to his waist where the blade is hovering above his sweat-soaked shirt. Paul lets out a sigh of frustration, feeling like he has not only let himself down but Gurney as well.

Gurney scorns, “How many times have I told you? The defence shield is only -”

“As good as the person wielding the sword,” Paul finishes Gurney’s sentence. Gurney ignores Paul and continues with his speech, “Even the most powerful shield can be breached by a skilled warrior and no matter how advanced or sophisticated your shield technology is, if you can’t properly use your sword, you are vulnerable to an attack.”

Gurney sheathed his blade, eyeing Paul who looks defeated. Gurney lets out a exhale, “Paul, marriage is a lot like weapon training. You have to be willing to put in the work, to learn and grow together, and to be there for each other through thick and thin.”

Paul turns off his defence shield and runs his finger along the edge of the blade, fascinated by the vulnerability - one wrong move and he could cut himself, and bleed to death. Suddenly, the weight of being a husband falls on his shoulders and he thinks about the promise he made to protect you. He's liable for another person now and he wonders if he's even ready for the responsibility of having a wife. The young master mutters, “What happens if I can’t keep my promise of protecting her?”

Gurney furrows his brow and gives Paul a stern look, “Then you’ll have failed not only her, but yourself as well,” he says firmly, “A true warrior doesn’t waste time worrying about the what-ifs. Instead, focus on the task at hand and what you can do to prevent it. Train harder, study your enemy, and always be one step ahead. The best way to protect her is to be prepared for anything that comes your way and that means forcing yourself not to think frivolous thoughts about her,”

Paul grimly nods but Gurney sees the young boy hasn’t been convinced yet. Gurney feels for him; this is new territory and Paul has yet to find the best way to navigate it. Gurney continues, “As for your wife, you cannot be with her every moment of the day, but you can teach her to be just as skilled with the sword as you are.”

Paul hurries down the corridor of his family's castle, trying to get back to you as soon as possible. He is so excited to see your face that his stomach is churning with anticipation. He wants to hold you, touch you, kiss you. You are all he’s been thinking about and he is so close to seeing you again. Paul accelerates around the corner and nearly collides with his father, Duke Leto Atreides. Paul is caught off guard and he stumbles back.

Duke Leto regards his son with a knowing look as if he had been waiting for Paul. Leto watches as Paul straightens himself out, smoothing and adjusting the black tunic with the House of Atreides symbol on his chest. Paul suddenly feels nervous being in the presence of his father, he’s unsure of what to say or do. Paul waits for instruction.

“Paul,” His father nods. Leto knew that Paul would be in this area of the castle because Gurney had already informed him. In fact, Gurney had also informed the Duke of the kiss that the young master and his lady shared in the garden - Gurney said it wasn’t just any kiss either. It was the kiss; the type of kiss that would’ve certainly led to something more had it not been for Paul’s strict training schedule.

Leto is amused by his son’s red face which is impatient and restless. The Duke knows that Paul will not disobey his orders and decides his teachings in matrimony couldn't have come at a better time. He offers a smile to Paul, “Relax, son - Gurney told me you’d be here,”

Paul clears his throat and nods, “Yes, my lord - can I help you with anything?” Paul is dreading the answer and finds himself becoming resentful toward the Duke because now, Paul has been delayed from seeing you. When the Duke gives a curt nod, Paul’s stomach drops - why did he have to be such a fool and ask such a question?

“Yes, Paul. There is something you could help me with,” the Duke motions for Paul to follow him down the corridor of their castle. As they walk through the dimly lit castle, the glowglobes above them illuminate the towering walls made of rough-hewn gray stone. The Duke’s footsteps reverberate through the long, empty hall, echoing off the walls and filling the silent space.

Leto thinks about how small Paul used to be and how it seems like it was only yesterday that Paul was running around the castle and playing pretend with all of his imaginary friends. He has grown into a tall, handsome young man but despite all of his training and teachings, Paul still has yet to master his stoicism. Leto notes how Paul's lips are pursed with muted animosity - his son is annoyed with him. The Duke is amused by this; he knows he is yet another barrier keeping Paul from his new wife.

As the Duke regards his son, he realizes that Gurney is right. Paul is completely smitten by you and those verdant eyes of his are pooled with so much love that it spills out. His infatuation with you is written across Paul's face. This is a side of his son that he has never seen before. It pleases him because originally, Leto was resistant to the arranged marriage brought on by the Padishah Emperor who insisted that Paul take one of his daughters from House Corrino.

The Duke knows that this type of look on royalty is frowned upon and that it may be seen as a weakness. But Leto cannot help but feel proud of his son for allowing himself to feel and express intense emotions. In a world where political alliances rule, it is a rare and precious thing to see someone unabashedly show love and affection. Leto thinks of his own reasons for not marrying his concubine, Lady Jessica, and does not wish for Paul to be burdened with the same regrets.

With a sense of determination, the Duke decides to do everything in his power to help Paul build a strong and loving relationship with you. Leto refrains from chastising his son about his open display of affection because he realizes that Paul needs guidance on other matters; matters attaining to the bedroom.

He knows Paul has received the talk about procreation but Leto is about to give his son advice on proper lovemaking. It's a topic he was unwilling to breach but Lady Jessica was insistent that it happens tonight as it's obvious the newlyweds will be consummating the marriage sooner than later; she gave her own advice to you earlier and now, it is the Duke's turn.

He takes a deep breath, carefully selecting his words. He doesn't want to scare Paul and begins imparting his knowledge with a casual statement, “Gurney informed me of your training session,” He pauses when he realizes that Paul isn't paying attention to him. However, the Duke presses on, “Paul, you’re a husband now. You have a wife - a beautiful wife -”

“She is beautiful, isn’t she?” Paul interjects rather dreamily as a dazed look crosses his eyes. There he goes again, letting his love spill out. Leto realizes that he'll have to remind Paul about the importance of keeping his emotions in check but for now, it could wait.

"Yes, she is. And now that you're a husband, there are certain things you must do and certain things you must not do," Leto stops and turns to his son, watching as Paul's expression changes to that of confusion. "You are responsible for her happiness, her sadness - your actions will directly affect her well-being."

Paul slowly nods, taking in his father's words. Leto cocks his head to the side, asking, "Son, do you know how to keep your wife happy?"

The young master shakes his head and casts his gaze downward - no, he doesn't know how to keep you happy. And it's been plaguing him all day. It's what kept him distracted during weapon training. But when his father speaks again, it's not the type of advice he was expecting to hear: "Listen very carefully, Paul. I’m going to tell you the secret to keeping your wife happy -"

Leto glances around, making sure that they were alone and just for added measure, he lowers his voice, “You’re going to kiss her lips, kiss her until you can’t breathe. And your hands, they’re going to touch her. Everywhere. Slowly at first, but with purpose...”

Paul's face grows hot with discomfort and simply put, he's dumbfounded by these instructions; it takes him a minute to realize that his father is giving advice on foreplay. His cheeks burn crimson. He's hesitant, feeling like a fool for asking such a silly question, “How do I know if she likes it?”

"Oh, you'll know, son … you'll know," His father's eyes darken and it startles Paul. His father inches closer, his voice dropping to an even lower octave, “Your fingers and tongue are tools, they will aid you in making your wife happy."

This advice is the limit of the boundary Leto is willing to cross. He's unwilling to give any more as it is up to his son to learn that not every woman is the same and that what Lady Jessica likes might not be what Lady Daisy likes. Leto also doesn't want to scar his son with his own prowess because what he and Jessica do in their bedroom is none of Paul's business.

But of course, Paul can't help but wonder how his father knows such things and it quickly dawns on the young master that the Duke does these things with Paul’s mother - is this the reason for their happiness? The thought makes him feel uneasy and strange. He never thought sex could have such a profound effect on a relationship but it makes sense. Paul suddenly understands the gravity of his father's advice and the complexity it will bring to his own marriage; ultimately, Paul is frightened yet intrigued by the idea that his tongue and fingers will help him in the pursuit of your happiness.

Paul's brows knit together and he gazes down at his fingers, watching as he repetitively curls and uncurls them. He clarifies, "I can... I use them... on her?"

"Yes, Paul. Use them on your wife - and remember to listen to her. Nonverbal cues are still cues, her sighs and moans will tell you everything you need to know," His father sees Paul struggling to hold back the utter panic and he feels for the young boy who is about to become a man. Leto remembers feeling the same way when it came to bedding Lady Jessica for the first time. He places a reassuring hand on Paul's shoulder and adds: "The most important part is consent, Paul … remember, you have an entire lifetime to spend with her. Don't feel like you need to rush through it all tonight."

Paul nods, his throat tight and dry. The prospect of seeing you makes him anxious, and despite knowing that he desires you with every fibre of his being, he can’t shake off the uneasiness of being a disappointment. What if he can’t please you? What if he can’t perform? Will this make you love him less?

“Breathe, son. Breathe.” The Duke pats his son's shoulder and gives an encouraging smile, “You’ll do fine, Paul. I’ll see that a change is made for your weapon training session tomorrow and I’ll make sure that Gurney Halleck doesn’t bother the happy couple.”

“Have a nice evening son, and be safe,” with that, Duke Leto Atreides departs, leaving Paul alone in the corridor to ponder on what lies ahead of him tonight.

The young master leans against the cool stone and closes his eyes, taking deep breaths to steady himself. The weight of responsibility and expectations from both his father and his new wife weighs heavily on his conscience. Paul has to remind himself that he loves you and he is willing to do anything to make you happy.

The sound of the bedroom door opening startles you. Quickly, you stand. Hands trembling as they smooth out the cream-coloured negligee that adorns your body. It was a gift from Paul’s mother; she gave it to you earlier. It seems that gossip travels around the castle at an alarming rate because not even an hour after you and Paul were seen kissing in the garden, Lady Jessica was pulling you to the side for a little chat because she seems to think that tonight is the night that you finally consummate your marriage.

And she’s right because the moment Paul steps into the room, and closes the door behind him - locking it - you know exactly what is about to happen. Paul stands across from you, eyes blazing at the sight of you, drinking in your body. He’s wearing his usual black tunic. His wavy hair looks even more dishevelled than before. His cheeks are rosy. And once again, his eyes capture you and pull you into those pools of emerald. Every ounce of his love surrounds you and it spreads like wildfire across your body.

You can't believe that Paul Atreides is yours. He's so unbelievably handsome with his aquiline nose, his high-cheek bones, and his slender neck that tapers gracefully into his lean shoulders. He oozes noble lineage and the thought of providing Paul with an heir makes you giddy.

“My lord,” You finally speak. You give a curtsy, bowing your head in the process. Paul cringes; he hates when you call him by his formal title. He despises it. It makes his blood boil. He takes several long strides until he is standing in front of you. Paul places his fingers beneath your chin, lifting your head until your eyes meet his.

For a moment, you look… frightened. But there’s something else hiding in those russet-coloured eyes of yours. Paul softens, he’s suddenly all too aware that he still has the remnants of distaste written across his face. “Daisy, please… when it’s just the two of us - Just you and me - call me Paul,”

It almost feels like treason disregarding his title but he doesn’t want such formalities with you. Never. Ever. Your cheeks flush with embarrassment and you nod, "Of course, my -"

You swallow his title and shakily breathe out, "Paul," his name sounds foreign as it leaves your lips. You feel … naughty calling him by his name. You don’t think you’ve ever regarded Paul as such, not even during your marriage vows did you call him just Paul. His name leaves your lips once more, “Paul,”

The way you say his name makes him smile. He smiles so wide that his teeth make an appearance and the skin by his eyes crinkles with delight. He softly replies, "Daisy,"

You return the smile and your eyes glisten with adoration as you and Paul regard each other with a newfound appreciation as if you're meeting him for the first time. It might as well be since the first few days were tumultuous, filled with uncertainty and a longing to be anywhere that wasn't Caladan. But now, all you want to be is with him.

Paul can't help himself anymore and gives into temptation, his eyes glancing down at the negligee your body is adorned with. It’s a bit tight and it leaves almost nothing to the imagination; he's able to see the colour of your flesh through the transparent silk. His eyes linger on the imprints of your breasts as they poke through the fabric but what really intrigues Paul is the secret that lies between your thighs. Paul notices the strap of your negligee has started to slip down your shoulder and he reaches up to adjust it, his fingers gently brushing against your collarbone as he does so.

Immediately, he notices that the simple touch has caused goosebumps to explode across the surface of your skin followed by a tinge of red. Paul is fascinated by this change and wonders what other reactions you have in store for him. Meanwhile, you're growing impatient with him. You wish he'd just kiss you already because you miss the feeling of his lips against yours. But he doesn't and unbeknownst to you, Paul is planning to take his sweet time.

Paul steps back, unbuttoning the top of his tunic. He's never gotten used to the tightness of his uniform and he lets out a sigh of relief. His eyes briefly glance at you standing there. You look annoyed by his actions and this amuses him.

You begin to shift on the balls of your heels, teeth biting into your lower lip as you think ‘patience is a virtue’. Paul has had a long day of weapons training and royal responsibilities. Surely, he is tired. But you have also waited all day for him and waiting a few more minutes sounds torturous - maybe if you ask him to kiss you, he'll listen.

"Please, Paul..." Your voice comes out whinier than intended. You feel embarrassed but it's Paul's reaction to your petulance that makes the pink colour in your cheeks deepen into crimson.

He pauses, a single eyebrow of his raising as his lips lift into a playful smirk. "Please, what, Daisy?"

Paul watches you through those thick, dark eyelashes of his. He waits for your answer and what you're unaware of is that he has enough patience to wait forever. After all, he is the son of a duke. Since birth, he's been taught to endure and persevere.

“I-I…” You stutter, feeling suddenly overwhelmed by the look clouding over in Paul’s verdant eyes. It causes an unfamiliar feeling to stir inside you and your thoughts quickly become a jumbled, incoherent mess. But thankfully, what you can recall is Lady Jessica’s advice: if you can’t tell him, show him.

Slowly, you walk forward with Paul watching your every move. Your fingers tremble as you reach for the button of his tunic, feeling a mix of nervousness and excitement. As you unbutton his tunic, you quietly inquire, “How was your weapons training?”

Your question brings a sense of closeness that you’ve never experienced before. But truth be told, you don’t care about his weapon training. You just think it’ll help speed things up a bit. But Paul is distracted. His gaze lingers on your face; he’s admiring the smattering of freckles that dance along the bridge of your nose. You glance at him and see that his lips are still curved into an adoring smile. It makes your heart swell.

Paul finally answers your question but his words fall on deaf ears because your mind is distracted by the sight of his lean waist. You find yourself growing envious of his body and begin to feel insecure because there is no denying the fact that your body is fuller than his, your bits fleshy and pudgy. Of course, Paul sees the change in your face and at first, he’s confused. But as he watches your eyes studying his body, particularly his perfectly flat stomach, he realizes what is bothering you.

"Oh, Daisy..." He coos. His voice breaks through your thoughts and you look at him, puzzled. Paul tilts his head to the side and traces his finger along your rotund jawline. Truth be told, he adores the ampleness of your body. He’s been admiring your curves for days and now, he finally has the opportunity to touch them. Paul is filled with the utmost delight at the prospect of being smothered by you body that’s bigger than his.

It is this exact thought that unleashes Paul from his restraints and he leans down, capturing your lips with his. You sigh happily and instantly forget about your jealousy. You relish the feeling of his supple lips pressing against yours - finally. He places a hand on the nape of your neck and the other on your hip, fingers digging into your thick flesh. He eagerly presses his body against yours, but it’s not enough. It’ll never be enough.

This kiss is different than the one in the garden. It's urgent. Needy. Paul is eager for more and he deepens it by swiping his tongue against your bottom lip. Your mouth opens - you've never been kissed like this before and at first, you're timid. Unsure of what to do. But Paul seems to be just as lost as you are. It doesn't stop either of you from trying.

Time blurs and for several minutes, it's nothing but a kindling mess of trembling hands and soft, wet noises. There is no rhythm and there is no tempo. Paul is sucking your tongue into his mouth and next, you're nipping at his lower lip; he growls when you do so. The growl reverberates through your body and dissolves into a heavy pleasure that presses down into your core.

Your lungs are desperate for fresh air and reluctantly, you separate. Your chest heaves against Paul’s and you gaze at him, noting how his eyes are still closed, lost in the throes of passion. His lips are swollen, bee-stung. Your lips are swollen too. Paul begins to run his hands up and down your back, his feathery touch tickles and you giggle softly at the sensation. His eyes snap open, verdant eyes flickering with burning desire.

“Do you want to lie down?” His voice is low-pitched but clear, his intentions are polite and sincere. He'll never stop being a duke even during the most intimate of times. He presses his forehead against yours, patiently waiting for an answer.

"Yes," Your voice shakes. He takes your hand and leads you to the bed. Tension begins to simmer beneath the surface and it causes your throat to dry up, making it difficult to speak. Those pesky nerves have come back and you wish they hadn't because you were having so much fun before -

“Are you okay?” Paul asks lowering your body down first before sliding his body next to yours. Your stomach is violently fluttering and you can only nod in response. You wonder if he can hear how fast your heart is beating.

Paul can just tell by wavering doubt on your face that you’re not okay. He peers at you, his face full of concern. He speaks, “Tell me you’re okay, Daisy,”

You swallow dryly and nod for a second time. Your fingers are gripping his arm because you are afraid that if you let go, he might disappear. It takes you another minute to gather yourself.

“I’m o-okay,” Breathlessly, you repeat, “I’m okay,”

This time it's Paul’s turn to nod. His lips turn into a soft, reassuring smile. He tenderly tucks a piece of your hair behind your ear and addresses your concerns, “We don’t have to do this - we don’t have to do anything if you don’t want to,”

Your heart tumbles over its own rhythm and you quickly shake your head. You want this - you want him. You want him to penetrate you with the bulge that has been steadily growing in his pants. You whisper, “But… but what if I do want it?”

He bites into his growing smile, trying to hide his excitement. He’s thrilled that you feel the same way and he loves hearing you speak. He wishes that you’d do it more and he knows in time that you will. As his father said, Paul has an entire lifetime to spend with you.

“Make love to me, Paul…” Your confession is quiet. Barely audible. Paul is unsure if he has even heard you but at the sight of your blushing cheeks, he knows that he wasn’t dreaming. You are silently pleading that he feels the way because if he doesn’t, you might just perish from embarrassment.

Paul pauses to watch the look of yearning etch itself across your face. You start to shift beneath the intensity of his gaze, your eyes dropping down. That’s when Paul feels your hands moving down his body. Your fingers latch onto his trousers, attempting to unbutton them but you’re having trouble, and it’s making you flustered.

Paul is loving every second of it. He enjoys how your brows have furrowed in concentration and he particularly likes the frustration growing on your face. You bite your lower lip and impatiently huff as you give up. You realize he’s been watching you this entire time and your eyes snap to his. You glare at the coltish expression on his face. Paul finds your exasperation endearing.

You bury your face into his arm, mumbling, “Paul, make love to me…”

Blood rushes through his body and goes straight down to the bulge straining against his trousers. He loves your wantonness and he wants to hear you beg for it again. He pulls your face away from his skin, eyes devouring you. As he holds your chin between his hands, Paul demands, “Say it again,”

You can’t help but glare again at him. He knows you won’t disobey. You speak, voice clipped with precise ardency, “Paul Atreides, my lord, will you please fuck me?”

The mixture of his full name and his title sends his blood into a frenzy. If he was already turned on before, then what’s happening to his body now? One thing for sure is that you don’t have to ask again because, within a minute, Paul has hastily thrown off his trousers and he’s now completely naked.

Your eyes, well… your eyes are instantly locked onto the appendage between your husband’s thighs. Of course, you have seen what a phallus looks like in art and in scientific videos. But in comparison to Paul’s, those examples were tiny and they definitely did not prepare you for the real thing.

His cock is so engorged and so pink, the tip of it glistening with some sort of secretion. As he moves his body back down to the bed, his cock twitches and bobs. He sees your fascination and watches how you are practically salivating over his well-endowed gift. Your core squirms with anticipation and your thighs involuntarily flex at the thought of him being inside you.

“Do you want to touch it?” His voice is timid, hesitating to request such a thing from his innocent wife but he’s held back long enough. Paul is so sure that he’s going to burst at any second - he watches as you reach out, hand faltering at second thoughts. Paul inhales sharply, “Touch me, Daisy, please…”

When your fingers brush against the tip of his cock, he shudders and his stomach constricts causing his cock to quiver. You quickly look up at him, wondering if you had hurt him but it’s clear you haven’t. He has an intense but dazed look on his face and he’s biting down on his lower lip, restraining himself. Paul is holding himself back and persevering through the pure torture you’re currently putting him through.

You wonder what’ll happen if you firmly grasp his cock, so your hand wraps around his girthy shaft and a throaty groan escapes from deep inside Paul’s body. His reaction pleases you and slowly, you continue to drag your hand down until it rests against the furry tufts on the base of his cock.

You notice how Paul’s chest is heaving and he’s pressing his body into the mattress, hands gripping the sheets, knuckles almost turning white. He looks at you through half-lidded eyes, pleading for more but you’re taking your time, exploring his body, finding ways to incite reactions from him. You know he’s enjoying your hand gliding up and down his cock but what if… what if you were to taste him? You readjust your body so that you’re sitting with your mouth hovering over his cock.

“Daisy, what’re you…” Paul says, his voice deeper than usual. You lick the tip of his cock, tasting the pearly secretion that has been leaking out. Paul gasps, swearing under his breath. You lick his cock again and once more, Paul reacts with a throaty gasp. You’ve overpowered him with one simple move and now he’s yours. It is at this moment that Paul realizes he is supposed to be listening to your sighs and moans but instead, you’re listening to his.

He watches as you thoroughly lick the tip of his cock. The sensation is immaculate and he’s struggling to remain cool and composed. You aren’t exactly sure what you’re doing but you’re enjoying the smoothness and warmth of his arousal. You seal your lips around him and slowly, very tentatively, lower your mouth down. Paul groans loudly and his hand finds the back of your head, his fingers gripping your hair so that it’s not in the way of his view.

The sight of you, mouth full of his throbbing cock, practically sends him over the edge. He has to restrain himself by closing his eyes and silently begging that he doesn’t ejaculate - he can’t. Not yet. He’s trying to convince himself that it’s your turn to be pleasured but when his cock hits the back of your throat, you gag and the sound makes him completely forget everything. His eyes snap open, watching as you bring your mouth back up, leaving a trail of spit pooling down his cock.

“D-Da-Daisy,” Paul sputters out, completely out of breath. You ignore him, dragging both your hands along his quivering cock. He struggles to find his words but when he does, he orders, “Stop,”

He grabs your hands and pulls them off his body. Shocked, you look at him. He looks like a man who has just been to hell and back. His hair is beyond dishevelment, strands of it sticking to his damp forehead. His eyes are wild, his once verdant eyes have been taken over by expanded pupils that have blackened out any colour.

Before you can ask what you did wrong, Paul is tugging off the negligee and exposing your naked body to him for the first time. His eyes sweep over every nook and cranny, noting every bulge of abundance. He’s taking inventory, marking his favourite areas. He’s particularly drawn to your breasts and how they swell against your chest, gravity pulling down the pillows of dough. They look rather heavy to Paul and he just has to reach up to grasp them. God, they’re so soft and perfect. He’s quick to lower his mouth, latching it onto your perky nipple. The sensation of his tongue swiping over the sensitive bud makes you gasp, “Paul,”

He grins against your skin and can’t help himself, he just has to nibble at the fleshy softness of your chest, which causes you to gasp. Your hand grabs the back of Paul’s head, fingers kneading through his hair, locking him there because your breasts absolutely love the attention. Meanwhile, Paul feels like he is in heaven, sighing happily as little noises continue to escape from your mouth.

Simply put, he can’t get enough of you. He licks and sucks your breasts as if they were ripe fruits, his tongue sweet and rough against the sensitive flesh. He alternates between too much and not enough, which creates a perplexed feeling between your hips, right in the crest of your crotch. It’s vague, incomplete. You have never felt such a thing before tonight. You flex your thighs, hoping that you can rid yourself of the unnatural feeling.

With his mouth still attached to your breast, Paul takes his hand and plants it on the inside of your thigh. This movement doesn’t help the unnatural feeling that has been steadily growing and you squirm, hoping Paul doesn’t notice. Of course, he does and he detaches himself to peer at you. He loves how pink and splotchy your cheeks have gotten, and he loves how your eyes have narrowed into a lusty squint.

Testing you, he drags his fingers upward. His cock throbs at how saturated your thighs have gotten. He doesn’t even think you’re aware of the wetness seeping from your flower and he cups your fuzzy mound, which causes you to squeal in surprise. The sudden intrusion is too much and you’re squirming out of his grasp. Paul is quick and wraps his other arm around your body. He’s strong enough to hold you, keeping you locked against him.

With his voice barely above a whisper, Paul asks, “Can I?”

You swallow hard. You desperately want him to touch you down there but you’re terrified of what might happen because you heard that unnatural things can occur. Paul senses your worry and feels your hesitation, and immediately takes his hand away - consent is the most important thing. You can’t help but notice how your pussy suddenly feels lonely now…

However, those thoughts are quickly pushed away because Paul pulls your body down with his, your chest colliding with his as he lies underneath you. You feel like you’re crushing him and for a third time, you begin to squirm.

“Daisy,” His grip tightens. You stop squirming and sheepishly glance up at him. He’s gazing at you, with so much love and adoration, that it makes your breathing hitch inside your throat. Paul whispers, “You’re the most beautiful woman I have ever seen.”

The compliment makes you blush, your skin reddening even more. You confess, “I’m not a woman yet -”

“Yet,” Paul interjects and shifts so that your body is lying next to his. He kisses your temple, “Lay back and relax, I’m going to try something…”

You’re reluctant for Paul to see such an intimate part of you. He pleads, eyes begging for a chance. He murmurs, “Just trust me, okay?”

His words make you reconsider. You decide to trust your husband and you lay down, inhaling to calm yourself. But the moment Paul places his hands on your legs, your heart rate spikes and rattles against your chest. As he spreads you open, he looks at your flower with reverence. It’s so puffy, so pink and so wet that it glistens beneath the glowglobes.

He positions his body between your thighs, his cock rubs against the inner flesh, and you shudder at the sensation. He looks at you, worried. You shake your head, “Paul, I need you…”

At your request, he is so quick to touch you. His finger slides along your folds. You suck in and bite down on your lower lip, holding back. But Paul yearns to hear you, and he does it again, repeating the movement. A small groan escapes and it’s all the encouragement that he needs. Through heavy-lidded eyes, you see that he is in deep concentration, studying as your hips jerk when he presses his palm against a sensitive little nub that’s hiding between your petals. As he does it again, your mouth goes slack and a moan slips out. He begins to circle it with determination, knowing this must be the spot.

There’s a liquid heat pooling in your core and the more pressure he adds, the less you can take it. You are back to squirming beneath his touch, gasping and groaning at the pressure building inside. It’s such a foreign feeling - you feel like you’re going to burst open. You feel scared about what might happen. You want Paul to stop, yet you don’t. Everything is so conflicting and your throat is parched, and you want your husband to look at you. But Paul is so engrossed in what he’s doing - he’s absolutely fascinated at the stickiness that seeps through your magnificent folds.

Unable to take much more, you reach down and grasp his chin, forcing him to look at you. At first, he’s baffled. He was so sure that you were enjoying his hard work - your eyes are hungry, having not been satiated yet. The look sends a chill down his spine and when you whimper, his cock twitches.

If he wants to make you a woman, it needs to happen now. You whimper again, “Paul, I need you … I need you inside of me,”

“Are … are you sure, Daisy?” He asks, eyes glazing over. You nod and reach up to caress his cheek. Paul is so unbelievably sweet. He begins to trail kisses along your stomach, tongue dipping into your belly button causing you to throw your head back into the pillow. He grins wolfishly and continues marking his territory, relentlessly teasing you until you are nothing but a wet, blubbering mess.

Finally, after a lifetime has passed, Paul sweetly kisses your lips and his cock brushes against your swollen labia. The first meeting. Wetness against wetness. You wrap your arms around his neck, pulling his shoulders down into your body. Paul steadies himself, his chest puffing out with excitement as he lines the tip of his cock against your entrance.

“Fuck,” He hisses. Paul knows it’s going to be a tight fit and he’s worried about hurting you. He plants a tender kiss against your jaw, whispering, “Tell me if I hurt you, okay?”

You nod, shutting your eyes and moaning out as his cock begins to nudge inside. It’s definitely a little too large for comfort and your body is resisting - you have to order yourself to relax. And when he’s finally pushed past, there’s a popping sensation. It’s quick and it hurts, pain shooting through your pelvis. You wince.

Paul notices and stops, he attempts to pull out but you’re quick to lock your legs around his. His lips move against your skin, “Am I hurting you?”

“No,” You sniffle, shaking your head. But Paul can see straight through your lie. He asks the question again, shifting because he’s afraid of causing you pain. This time, you answer truthfully, “It hurts but your cock… it feels so good, Paul - don’t stop, please don’t stop -”

He listens and continues to push his hips forward. Your eyes remain closed but your mouth hangs open, little mewling noises coming forth. Paul struggles to remain composed as your tight cunt swallows his girth. At a glacial pace, he pushes into your body and buries his face into the crook of your neck. He’s struggling not to cum because, for him, the suction of your velvety walls is swiftly driving him toward the edge.

“You’re such a good girl,” He’s barely audible, hands gripping the side of your protruding stomach. He gives one final thrust, grunting, “Cunt so goddamn tight,”

His cock is fully inside, buried to the hilt. You’re gasping, fireworks sparking behind your eyelids. Your hands are trailing along his back, nails digging into fevered flesh. It still hurts but it’s a good type of hurt. He begins rocking his hips, slowly at first, stretching out your virgin cunt. The mixture of pain and pleasure has you splitting open, crying out, “Oh, fuck! Paul!”

For a moment, Paul thinks he’s hurting you again and he pauses. You hiss at him, “My lord, just fuck me already,”

Your lord does not like that. He sits up on his knees, arms placed on either side of you and hovers over your body. It glistens with sweat and you’re eyes have snapped open at the sudden loss. You see that Paul’s eyebrows are knitted together, irritated that you brought up his nobility. He pulls out, noting the smear of crimson around his cock but doesn’t think twice about it and shoves it back inside.

You cry out, “My lord,”

He seethes, biting down on his lower lip and begins to rapidly thrust in and out. You want to be properly fucked and he’s giving you exactly what you want. The room fills with your cries of pleasure as Paul spitefully fucks your sweet cunt. The same sweet cunt that is making crude, wet noises, making it impossible not to spill his seed right then and there.

He wants to make sure that you finish too but Paul knows he’s close. He feels the familiar sensation of an orgasm building inside; he knows the feeling all too well because he’s no stranger to masturbation. In fact, he’s spilled his seed onto this very bed many times in the past year. He’s restraining himself, the friction starting to become too much for him - the tight coil wants to snap and he can’t stop thinking about filling your womb with his seed.

He shudders, willing himself to slow down so that you can catch up to him. His thrusting turns tender and he begins to lovingly guide his cock into your body, burying it against your hilt. Paul notices that you like this more because your moans have become guttural, coming from somewhere deep. He does it again, fully burrowing his cock in your velvety walls. They are contracting, practically convincing Paul to spill his seed. He's barely able to resist the temptation.

You seem to be fighting your own demons and reaching for something that you aren’t even sure exists. Certainly, it must because what else is this feeling that has pooled inside your belly? The liquid is hot, near boiling point. Each time Paul thrusts his cock, it hits a spot and it makes your cunt convulse, and your eyes roll back because the stimulation is too much.

Your hands grip Paul’s strong arms, nails digging into his flesh. Paul reaches down between your bodies, fingers fondling your fuzzy little mound as he remains buried inside. He pushes your puffy lips apart and presses your button. It sends a jolt through your body and you bellow out, “Paul!”

He presses his thumb against the sensitive little nub and glides his cock against that spot, and you’re so close - so close. Paul pushes his cock into the depths of your cunt, practically tearing into your womb. His cock quivers against the friction of your walls and he shudders, eyes closing tight while his hand continues to work your clitoris. He wills himself not to cum but it’s useless because, within seconds, he’s shooting his hot, thick load into your tight, breedable cunt.

You cry out, feeling as Paul’s arousal fills you. It’s the thought of Paul impregnating you that causes your orgasm to boil over. Your pussy clenches and convulses with gratification at having the opportunity to give Paul an heir. You cling to him, needing him more than ever as you repeatedly call out his name, prolonging the vowels, “Paaaaauuuul, Paaaauuuul, Paaaauuuulll!”

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