I Love The Possible Sisterhood!! Two Scorned Woman!

Friends in High Places

Author's Note: Hi. I cooked this up in 3.5 hours bc my brain won't shut off. Don't know if I'll make this a chapter thing yet.

Warnings: Descriptions of blood, war + death?, injury. This is a Paul x ofc but there are no physical descriptions as I wanted to keep it as ambiguous as possible. <3

Summary: Paul learns he isn't alone in the war against the Harkonnens and the Emperor's forces.

Paul,

House Atreides still has friends in the palace. Use these gifts as you see fit. Long live the fighters.

Yours,

Imogen

He immediately knows these ships and the weapons they brought are at great cost to you. You may be the emperor's daughter, but he has no doubt you would be punished swiftly for your treason, if you hadn't been already. The thought of you facing the consequences for helping him makes him feel ill. You're strong—much stronger than him and more adept at everything he isn't —but surely even you could be overcome.

He thinks you might be better suited to delivering the Fremen to peace instead of him, but you’re too far away, holed up on Kaitain with your family. You're a mole in the emperor's house, one he can count on but not one he can take advantage of.

He will need to be patient. You will stand behind him when the time comes, but for now, he must wait. Keeping you safe seems a small price to pay, but the Fremen are strong, too. They can handle the costs.

He rereads the letter, committing it to memory before he destroys it. There is nothing to indicate you will be sending more of these deadly gifts, and so he supposes they will have to treat these with care.

***

You too see with more than just your eyes, and you can feel Paul's gratitude across millions of miles during your breakfast with your father and sisters. The warmth of his gratitude washes over your tongue like cream, and you take a sip of ice water to keep yourself from outright grinning and giving yourself away as you listen to Irulan debate with your father the emperor. The ships Paul received were taken off the records, their trackers destroyed, and there are several dozens soldiers and weapons mysteriously missing from the armory and barracks.

All of them loyal to you, all of them fighting for a better life. They believe in Paul's cause, and volunteered to help when you went looking for people you could trust. If they had families, they were relocated in secrecy on Arrakis, close by to their warrior loved ones.

No loose ends this way.

A few of your most trusted guards stayed, their allegiance to you unwavering. They spoke of you taking the throne in Irulan's place, but you didn't want it. The people had known your bloodline for too long. It was time for a new leader and a new beginning. When the time came, you would stand by your friend and voice your support. The great Houses would follow.

They always did.

***

You are beaten in front of the throne when your crimes are discovered. You laugh in the face of your father's personal guard, blood dripping from your broken nose and staining the granite a vibrant red. You're still wearing your clothes in the men's style and you find yourself glad for it when you imagine how much of a nightmare it would be to be caught in blood-sticky chiffon and flowing layers of silk.

"Our house is bathed in the blood of innocents, we are traitors ourselves," You cough loudly as you refer to the betrayal of Leto Atreides, eyes passing over the aristocracy that fills the great hall. "And now we shall pay for it."

You take your small knife from its sheath at your waist, pointing it threateningly towards your own abdomen instead of at your circling adversary. Some people gasp at your boldness; a stomach wound is a death sentence.

"Imogen," Your little sister of four and ten sobs, clutching at Irulan's arm that is braced around her protectively. "Father didn't mean it, please! Just drop it!"

The emperor looks on from his place on the steps leading up to the throne. His eyes are tortured, but you know him—he's playing a part. He'll send you away to exile and then play the grieving father when you are unexpectedly assassinated by someone loyal to the crown.

You'd rather fall into the terrifying maw of the Shai-Halud.

"Drop the knife, Imogen." He says. "No one will harm you further, just drop the knife."

You feel warm blood trickle down the side of your face; you might have a concussion from hitting your head on the granite when you were knocked down. You can also feel pain blooming in your ribs and back from where you were kicked. You don't have much time to waste.

"Clear a path," You spit, feet moving backward. You stretch your mind out to make sure no one is planning on attacking you from behind. "There's nothing left for me to do here. Men, with me!"

Your guards, having been warned to stand by until you gave the order if something like this were to happen, move past your father's soldiers, eyes ablaze with contempt. They form a protective circle around you and one of them, your friend Joel, places his arm around your waist to help your limping form along. A ship with two more men await you, and there are some that stay behind to make sure no one follows you. You lean against Joel and bury your bleeding face in your hands as you leave your friends on the ground, the ship flying high and stirring up dust.

They'll be executed if not tortured for information by morning. You hope they die like warriors instead. It weighs so heavily on you that you barely register someone trying their best to clean your face. Wet cloth comes away pink and drips on the floor.

"Their sacrifice is honorable," Joel says later. "Weep for them, but do not despair. Their deaths are not in vain."

You keep his words at the forefront of your mind as your ornithopter docks with a bigger ship, one that will take you to Arrakis. You fall asleep, exhausted as you wait to arrive on your new home.

***

You are carried off, still unconscious as a doctor looks you over and does what he can. Your nose is set and cuts attended to, and your old clothes burned. Paul sits by your sleeping form, protective of you. You’re vulnerable here, naked body covered in an airy muslin tunic and sheet for modesty's sake. He can see purple blooming underneath the thin material and wishes he could have stopped it.

But the Fremen saw it too—your devotion to their cause. Paul is frequently surprised at their willingness to please him, their Lisan al Gaib. Your well-being has been seen to as staunchly as his own would have been had he asked it of them.

You groan when you finally wake, drawing him to your side. You wince when you try to move over as he sits down on the edge of your bed.

"You've been resting awhile," His voice is a balm over you; you didn't realize how much you missed it until now. "Haven't moved much, either. I'm sure you're sore."

"In more ways than one," You rasp quietly. "The Sardaukar's reputation certainly precedes them."

He brings a handmade cup to your lips and helps you lift your head to drink. The water is cool and soothes your throat in an instant.

"You're lucky you got out."

"Maybe," You lick at a stray droplet at the corner of your mouth, his eyes following the movement. "Or maybe I'm just that good."

The corners of his mouth turn up as he sets the cup back in its spot of a small table next to your bed.

"Maybe." He parrots, looking over your still healing face. Your cuts had closed up and were more of a startling pink instead of an angry red, and your bruises were harder to see under the fabric.

"Can I check something?" He asks, fingers playing with the hem of your tunic. Your eyes blink as you manage a shrug.

"I'm not in much of a position to argue."

He purses his lips. "I won't do it if you'd rather not."

You contemplate that for a moment, grateful he'd even thought to ask your permission. "It's alright."

He fixes you with a look before lifting the muslin up to the underside of your breast, eyes scanning. He gently brushes along the path of the yellow-green marks with the pads of his fingers, making you flinch a bit.

"Sorry," He murmurs, dark curls falling into his face. You fight the urge to tuck them behind his ears. "The healer said to keep an eye on this spot, it's where one of your ribs was cracked."

You feel your face heat up as he pulls the fabric back down, berating yourself for wanting him to continue his gentle touching and pampering. He must have better things to do than look after you.

"Thank you, Paul," You find yourself saying, fingers reaching out for his hand on the bed. "For—looking after me. I didn't mean to put you in this position."

He smiles softly and covers your hand with his other, thumbs stroking over your knuckles affectionately. Even after all this time apart, he was sweet with you. "I don't mind."

"Mm," You sigh, eyes beginning to droop again. "Promise?"

"Promise." He affirms. "Go back to sleep, warrior-princess. I'll be right here."

You murmur something intelligible, probably an old insult, as you succumb to slumber once more. He stays with you as long as he can with his hands stroking your hair before he is called away. He asks that he be notified when you're awake again and ready to eat, but he suspects he'll be back long before then.

* The heart is not meant to rule *

Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x Atreides!Reader

Tag list: @wo-ming-bai

Slow burn, knife kink, blood kink, strangers to lovers, softer!Feyd-Rautha, CONSENT, 18+, arranged marriage, assassination, poison, murder, etc

Previous Chapter - Burning Palms Current Chapter - Only I Will Remain

***

You return to your chambers alone, still shaken from the earlier confrontation. Hours pass, and the silence is heavy with your thoughts. Finally, the door swings open, and Feyd enters, his face a mask of frustration. The remaining meetings had been incredibly boring and annoying, leaving him seething with pent-up energy.

Without a word, he crosses the room in a few swift strides and takes you in his arms with more force than needed. His grip is tight, almost bruising, and he doesn't wait for anything. He starts to kiss you angrily, his lips harsh and demanding. You squirm under his touch, a mix of fear and excitement coursing through you, but this only seems to edge him on.

Feyd's hands roam your body with an urgency that borders on aggression. His kisses are rough, bruising, as he pours all his frustration into this moment. Your protests are muffled against his lips, your heart pounding in your chest.

"Feyd, please," you manage to gasp between his feverish kisses, but he doesn’t slow down.

His response is a growl of frustration, his fingers digging into your skin as if anchoring himself. You can feel the intensity of his emotions—anger, desire, a desperate need for release. It’s overwhelming, a whirlwind of sensations that leaves you breathless.

You push against his chest, trying to create some space, but he only pulls you closer, his eyes dark and wild.

"I need this," he mutters, his voice a strained whisper. "I need you."

Your heart aches at his vulnerability, buried beneath layers of anger and frustration. Despite the roughness, you can sense the depth of his need, the unspoken plea for understanding. Slowly, you relax into his embrace, your hands moving to his back, offering silent reassurance.

Feyd’s grip softens just a fraction, his kisses becoming less punishing and more desperate. You can feel his heart beating wildly against yours, his breath hot against your skin. This moment is raw and intense, a collision of emotions that leaves you both shaken.

As he pushes you towards the bed and take out his dagger, making you squirm even more than before. As he cuts your dress off, he plants possessive kisses on the exposed skin, working his way down, cutting everything off your body and leaving you naked in front of him. He’s on his knees in front of you.

“Sit.” He demands darkly, his eyes darting to the bed. “What about you?” you ask in defiance.

He didn’t waste any time allowing you to talk back at him. He stands back up and forcefully pushes you back, one of his hands on your mouth. He wants you to be completely submissive right now, so you oblige just this one time. As you fall backwards on the bed, he’s on you like a wolf, hungry for blood. His dagger at your side, sharp and dangerous.

“You will learn not to doubt me, even if that’s all I can teach you.”

He spits out at you, referencing the doubt he saw in your eyes before.

You had to admit while he was scaring you a little, you reminded yourself that his feelings were mostly right at the surface. If he wanted to hurt you, he would have already done that months ago.

He returns his anger towards your body instead, cutting you with his dagger and licking it up like a mad dog. The lower he goes the more he starts cutting, until his head is between your legs, lapping at your entrance like a dog starved for water. Your blood is in splotches over his face, painting his pale face a brighter colour.

He’s slowly driving you insane, the fear turning into pleasure as he continues his assault. You keep quiet like he demanded, his submissive little wife, as he gets up from between your legs, eyes darker than the black sun. As he releases his hardened cock from his pants, he doesn’t need to do more than just look at you, taking the hint immediately. As you move towards the edge of the bed, he forcefully grips your hair in his hand and positions you perfectly in front of his cock. The dagger in his other hand grazing your cheek as you take him in your mouth, throbbing with need.

He lets out a loud sigh of pleasure, his hand tight in your hair, holding you down a little bit longer than you can handle, making you choke. As he pulls you back, he looks down at you, his face contorted in a snarl. His anger still very at the surface as he starts to pump into your mouth, making you sound completely indecent. You hold his legs in a way to keep yourself from falling off the bed and grounding yourself, as he relentlessly fucks your mouth.

“Sometimes you talk too much, wife,” he snaps at you, “I should do this to you more often. Maybe you’ll finally learn then.”

His dagger pressing into your cheek, drawing blood as he keeps his pace steady and fast. You’re barely able to understand what he’s saying at this point, feeling like a fuck-doll at this point. You decide you have enough of this and manage to push his legs away from your face, making him stumble backwards a bit as you manage to take a few gasps of breath.

You look at him angrily, wiping your own blood off your cheek. His jaw clenches at your movements and how you position yourself back on the bed. He steps forward and grabs one of your legs, pulling you towards him as you struggle to find your footing again. He’s enjoying this, watching you flail in his strong grasp.

“Stay still woman!” He demands of you with his dagger at your neck.

You freeze, not that you think he would actually kill you, but you also don’t want to be made into an example of accidental death. You huff out at him, brows frowned at him. As his free hand goes down to open your legs with haste, you manage to turn around, your back facing him but he’s straddling your hips sooner than you thought.

His thick member slapping on your ass as he pushes himself onto you, making you lay flat against the bed, effectively squishing you. You feel the same dagger at your other cheek, almost sticking into it, probably drawing blood as you don’t really notice the pain anymore.

“You’re so pretty when you struggle wife,” he snarls as he slaps his cock a few times on your ass, the movement giving you an unwanted wetness between your legs.

He’s heavy and dominating, this is the Feyd people warned you about, you’re finally seeing the true Harkonnen in him. As you struggle to breath, you feel one of his fingers circling your ass, wet with the slick from his cock. As he pushes his thumb inside, you let out a short gasp, the feeling completely foreign to you. You notice he won’t give you the time to get used to the feeling, as he’s lining up his cock with your other entrance as you try to figure out the difference between pain and pleasure.

“Do you know how long I’ve been waiting to do this?”, he speaks as he lets his tip enter you. “One hundred and fifty-two days exactly”, he chokes out as he wastes no time penetrating you fully.

It’s all too fast and hard for you to handle, as you let out a pained moan under his weight. You’re barely able to breathe properly at this point, so your breath comes out in short gasps, trying not to faint at the feeling. Feyd is fully sheathed inside of you, and he feels bigger than before, harder than you’re used to. He has been keeping count apparently, but so have you.

“One hundred and fifty-three”, you blurt out.

He freezes for a moment and starts to pump into you relentlessly, eliciting the foulest sounds from your mouth. While he keeps his dagger at your face, he lifts his body from your and you’re finally able to take in more air. You manage to raise your butt a slightly bit higher, so that you can move along with him, his thumb in your ass keeping you in place as he pounds you hard and fast.

He can feel your wetness and it’s driving him even crazier than he thought. As much as he loves it when you’re being dominant, he loves seeing you even more when you’re submissive, offering all control to him, allowing him to decide your boundaries. He’s been waiting for five months to have you in his arms again, in his bed again.

You had also been dreaming about this moment, although, maybe slightly less violent, you welcome it, however. Feeling his utter need for you takes away all doubt, the fact that he’s being so open towards you makes you feel wanted. Maybe if you can allow some violence into the bedroom, he won’t be so violent in everyday life.

Feyd strikes your ass hard, making you snap out of thought. His dagger lay in the bed now, his free hand gripping your ass as he picks up his pace, even inhumanly fast as it feels. You almost scream out at this point, everything an overstimulation of the next, and as you cum on his cock he turns you around and forces his hand inside of your vagina, letting you ride the wave as he pulses against your g-spot, effectively making you squirt multiple times.

His face is soaking wet, as he laps up most of the fluid from the source. Taking his dagger again he places it in your hand.

“Cut me,” he says as he starts to line up his cock again as you lay flat on your back.

As soon as he enters you, he hovers over you, holding you down, his cock feeling heavy and full inside of you, his girth stretching you open as your back aches from the bed. He snakes an arm under your back to hold you there, sucking at your nipples. As you take the dagger and cut him on the side of his neck, he shivers with pleasure.

The blood drops down onto your chest and he looks at you, pleased. His pace starts to become more erratic the more you cut. Four, five, up until ten times you do this on different spots on his body, all while he’s fucking you senseless. Your body the canvas of his blood and sweat. You’re the prettiest thing he’s ever seen, how he was even allowed to touch you, he couldn’t understand.

“Feyd,” you gasp out as you’re feeling another wave rush through you, “faster.”

As you both continue, his anger fades, replaced by an overwhelming sense of urgency. He clings to you as if you’re his lifeline, the only thing keeping him grounded. And in that moment, despite the fear and uncertainty, you hold him close, offering what little comfort you can.

You come with a lightning strike shooting between your eyes it seems, completely overwhelmed. As he bites down in your shoulder you feel his seed filling you entirely, as he pumps the last of his energy into you. He turns his face to face yours, and he slowly continues to move in and out of you, making sure to keep most of it in. You kiss him softly, a tear slowly falling down your cheek. He kisses you back softly, his anger completely gone, as he positions himself next to you.

Your chest blood red and glimmering in the dim light of the room, he looked you up and down, almost waiting for you to say something first. He wasn’t easily ashamed but somehow, he felt a little bit more aware of what he had done just now. He hoped you would still love him after the display he just left you with.

“Blood of my blood,” you say as you cup his face.

His eyes close slowly at your touch, no one would ever take this away from him again. And the both of you fall asleep in a newfound bliss with each other.

Defending His Lady

Feyd-Rautha x wife!reader

Summary: Both Feyd and your son take issue with the people of Giedi Prime not accepting you as their Lady. Part of the His series

Notes/Warnings: Based on a request. It's a little bit different. Typos, probably.

Words: 1250

Feyd-Rautha Masterlist / Main Masterlist / Tag list

Years ago, when you imagined your future, it wasn’t this. It wasn’t on this planet. It wasn’t with the husband and child you have. It wasn’t with the title you obtained from your marriage. You imagined light glowing through an open home, frilly gowns, a stuffy Lord, and a daughter who would be treated like a princess. It wasn’t necessarily what you wanted for your future, but it was what was likeliest to be. You’d be a foreign Lady on a new planet, yet respected just as much as their home-grown Lord.

You learned rather quickly that that’s not always how it works. And while you wouldn’t trade the life you have—not your husband, not your son—for anything the universe could offer, you can’t deny the difficulties that come with being the wife and mother of the Harkonnen line of Giedi Prime. 

The people wanted Feyd to marry one of their own, certainly not the concubine their na-Baron once took. They wanted purity. To them, you are tainted blood, and despite your status on this planet, many cannot resist treating you like a parasite. In the five years that have passed, you’ve taken the poor treatment and whispered words with as much grace as you can, knowing Feyd is always there to end the lives of those who step out of bounds, but it’s harder to ignore now that Fionn is no longer a baby.

Your son is growing. His ears catch more than you’d like. He notices how his father reacts to the harsh words directed at you and how he never sees the people who speak them ever again. He’s gathering the pieces that his mother is often disrespected, and that is the last thing you want.

—

“He sees it,” you tell your husband as you slip into your nightgown.

“He doesn’t see it,” Feyd says, pulling back the top layer of covers on the bed and settling under the sheets. When he reaches out his hand, you snuggle into his embrace. His arms are snug around you. His lips press a kiss to your hairline. “You worry too much.”

You hold in your huff of frustration. “I do not. He asked me as I put him to bed if bad people are hurting me and if that’s why Daddy keeps making them disappear.” Feyd pulls back to look down at you, his brow furrowed. You nod. “He sees it.”

Feyd exhales heavily through his nose. As a father, he’s been diligent, so very careful with how he leads his son; a surprisingly delicate guidance—something he didn’t have growing up. What started from Feyd’s fear of your son being too much like him died as the boy showed only love, but Feyd has continued his intricate training. He has trained so that even at the age of four, Fionn is vigilant, particular with his words, and practical in his choices. He trains so that outside factors are not as influential. He trains so the boy can think for himself. And it shouldn’t be a shock that he notices what happens in his own home. 

“It’s time he understands then,” Feyd says.

Your eyes go wide and you let out a light gasp. “Feyd, he’s four.”

“There’s no point in hiding what happens to them if he’s already curious. He’s as stubborn as you are,” he tells you. “And he’s old enough.”

—

“Mommy, where are we going?” Fionn asks, his little hand tugging on yours to get your attention. 

You take a deep breath, sucking in the dank air that leads to prisoner cells. You’re not sure how this is going to go, but you agreed and you need to let it play out. “Daddy wants to show you something.”

Fionn’s head turns to Feyd. “Is it a bad man, Daddy?”

Feyd pauses halfway down the hall and crouches in front of his son. You release Fionn’s hand so he can fully face his father. 

“Yes,” he says. “It’s a bad man.”

“He hurt Mommy?”

“Some of our guards heard him talking about your mother. He said rude things, called her names. He wished for harm to come to her.”

Fionn makes a soft noise of surprise. Name-calling—he considers that one of the worst of crimes, knowing what it got him when he insulted the little Lady of House Kenric. 

“But why?” he asks. 

“It doesn’t matter why,” Feyd says. “What matters is that we protect the ones we love, yes?”

“Yes,” Fionn agrees with a sharp nod.

Feyd looks up at you, silently commanding that you stay here. The last time you entered a cell to face the one who insulted you, more abuse was hurled at you until it tapped into a well of internal shame. It took you three days to shake that off, all the while your husband begging for you to return to your natural state of uncaring. 

You’ve always cared though, to some degree. It doesn’t matter that they like you so much as it matters that you’re not a stain on Feyd’s reputation. After all, he’s the Baron now, and one day, his son will be. If the people of Giedi Prime cannot forget where you come from, you worry they will never forgive Feyd, and worse, that they will never accept Fionn as their ruler. 

Feyd takes your boy’s hand once again and leads him the rest of the way. They stop at the correct cell and when a guard turns a key, they head inside. 

Inching your way down the hall, you halt just outside of it. Your finger goes to your lips to ensure the guard does not give you away, and with your back to the stone wall, you hear Fionn.

“He did it?”

The man is silent, likely knocked unconscious from Feyd’s earlier visit. You suppose he’ll be awake soon enough. 

“Yes,” Feyd tells him, his voice dropping an octave, “He did.”

“Did he apologize? He should apologize to Mommy.”

Feyd releases a sigh. His son is much more diplomatic than himself. But your husband can’t fairly be bothered. That’s the point of his parenting: to raise a better Baron than both he and his uncle have ever been. 

“Son, we do not let men like this apologize. We do not let them near your mother.”

“Oh.”

“So what do you think we do with them?”

Fionn hums, and it’s so much like his father that it’s as if he has stood on the sidelines of every death your husband has executed. The way Feyd hums as he plays with his victims. A fake hum of consideration, of contemplation. What should I do with them? How should they leave this world? Questions he pretends to ask as if he hasn’t planned their deaths out from the moment he was informed of the crime. And that’s the hum your son gives. He hums like a natural monster in the making. You wouldn’t be surprised if the boy is tapping his finger against his chin as he thinks. 

You feel an ounce of pride. There’s more to him than a kind heart, lovely as that heart is. He will be a fearsome Baron, but one that will show mercy when mercy is fit. However, here, now, mercy is not fit, and his father has made that clear.

“Would you like the first stab?” Feyd asks. “Top of thigh.”

The shing of metal scraping against Feyd’s sheath fills the space. A small blade. Good for Fionn’s hand.

“Which thigh, Daddy?”

Feyd chuckles. “You choose.”

What He Likes

Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x reader

Summary: When five daughters of Great Houses arrive on Giedi Prime, Feyd is meant to select one as a wife. But out of all of the foreigners on his territory, it is the Princess of Kaitain’s handmaid that catches his eye.

Notes/Warnings: Feyd is possessive as usual.

Words: 3100

Feyd-Rautha Masterlist / Main Masterlist / Tag list

Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen likes what he likes. There’s no complexity to it. No hidden criteria. What he likes is decided in a straightforward manner based solely on gut instinct, and questions of whether or not it is wise to like what he likes do not follow. He simply sees a thing, enjoys how it looks, and therefore, likes it.  

When the eligible women of five Great Houses stand before him in a neat little row, he likes none of them. Four Ladies and a Princess, all of whom do not hit him in the gut with that feeling, and all of whom have flaws fatal to the name of House Harkonnen. 

Atreides—a lame attempt at a peace offering. Fenring—a Bene Gesserit witch. Corrino—a spoiled, royal brat existing under the shadow of her eldest sister. And the other two, Kenric and Wallach, have faces he cannot be expected to look upon for the rest of his life. 

Not one brushes the cusp of satisfactory. Not one is good enough to take for a bride. But then, as he dismisses them so they may return to their quarters before the evening meal, Feyd spots a thing he likes. 

The Princess’s handmaid. A woman who pays him not a lick of attention as she trails the royal out the door. A woman who forces the pace of his heartbeats to thump twice as fast.

Perfect, he thinks. Stunning.

And without hesitation, Feyd selects his wife. 

—

Reader POV

“The na-Baron has sent a guard to collect you,” Fenring’s handmaid informs you as she comes back into the room, tying a robe around her waist and plopping down on her assigned bed beside Wallach. 

A lump settles in your stomach. The na-Baron—the man who has encouraged your future demise at the hands of the Great Ladies due to the attention he has neglected to provide them in favor of keeping his eyes on you. 

Over seven days, they’ve been ignored entirely, as has his sense of propriety. He has invited you to dine beside him, filling your plate before bothering to notice if the women of high status have had their plates filled. He has asked you questions and listened attentively to the answers you’ve felt obligated to provide. He has ensured you’ve had a seat of phenomenal vantage to witness his arena duels, seeking you out and smirking at you as lifeless bodies slide off of his blade. 

For every new morning there comes a new method of making fools out of the women who could have your neck sliced open should they so choose. And now, so it seems, he intends to bring that trouble into your nights.

“Why?” you ask, trying to cast aside the painfully obvious. You would be thrilled if one of the other handmaids could chime in with something unexpected, something not nearly as vulgar as what you’re imagining he wants from you. 

Wallach and Fenring shoot you a look that suggests you can’t possibly be so ignorant. 

“Why do you think?” Atredies says. “I’m surprised it took him this long.” She swipes a comb through her long locks before pointing the end of the tool at you. “You need to find a way to end whatever this is before it gets you executed. Our Ladies are just as irate over the situation as the Princess.”

Irate—a gentle word. Requests from the Princess have been trivial to a degree you’ve never before dealt with in her servitude. She has snatched any opportunity to humiliate you, degrade you. It is a burden you have shouldered with grace, but so long as the na-Baron refuses to find enjoyment in your torture, your unprotested compliance will continue to mean nothing to the Princess. 

You wish he would laugh with her, just once. It would do you a world of good. But he’s not required to amuse the Princess. He does not have to bow to anyone since the Harkonnen’s growth in power shifted the hierarchy of the Houses. 

“What do you propose I do?” you ask. 

“Let him have you,” Kenric says. “Let him get you out of his system. If he’s no longer infatuated with you, he will finally choose a bride.”

You blanche but you do not immediately dismiss her suggestion. Kenric’s handmaid is older than you by at least a decade, and when she speaks, the rest of you listen. She has watched handmaids come and go from the mistakes they have made. She has seen how replaceable a young woman of humble birth with a limited skill set is. She knows the fights worth fighting and the fights worth surrendering, and there is much to be learned from her experience. 

“That simple?” you say. 

“If you make it that simple,” she replies with a nod. Then she grabs you by your shoulders and spins you around, lightly shoving you toward the door. “It’s for your own good. So go.”

Your heart batters your ribcage as you recover from a stumble. Your first steps are hesitant, unsure if you’re doing the right thing. But you collect yourself, and without looking back, you continue onward, coming face-to-face with a towering figure; pale, a ghost stark against the shadowed hallway. 

“Do not lag behind,” is all he says before he turns on his heel.

You follow him through darkness, past door after door, rounding corner after corner until he finally halts and gestures for you to enter a room. Knowing it isn’t a choice, you step inside. 

You’re relieved to find the space decently lit from the glowing orb of white light hovering near a desk. You scan the area. His bedroom, each inch of it covered top to bottom in black. Painted walls, marble floors, drawn curtains, furniture—all a shade so deep that if you peer too long at any given section, your mind will begin to play tricks on your vision. 

“What’s your name?” suddenly greets your ear in a gravelly voice. Your body flinches and your head whips in the direction of the sound. Somehow, you hadn’t noticed him leaning on the wall with his arms crossed, his brow low, his chin tilted toward his chest. 

He stares at you. Intensely. Unceasingly. A gaze that reaches past what you’ve witnessed in your lifetime. You’ve seen a lover’s stare between couples, but this is different, and it’s clear you’ve lived naive to how deeply a man can look at a woman. 

Heat blooms on your face. “My name?” You hadn’t noticed that he’d yet to ask. To be fair, though, no one ever asks for your name. Perhaps he understands the danger of doing so in front of others. 

“You have one, I assume,” he says. “Or do I need to give you one?”

You frown. “I’m not a slave.”

The na-Baron’s lips twitch in a smirk. His chin lifts and you get a full view of his face. The angles of his cheekbones. The straight line of his nose. The edge of his jaw, sharp from the shadows butting up against his illuminated alabaster skin.

He’s beautiful—you can’t pretend otherwise. A rare kind of beautiful. The kind of beautiful that makes no sense. Strange, alien beauty that wreaks havoc on your heart rate. 

You haven’t let yourself appreciate just how beautiful he is prior to now, always making an effort to look downward in his presence. And thank goodness you had enough sense. Had you taken a moment to truly observe him, you might not have been able to resist admiring. 

“Then tell me your name,” he says, and gulping down the knot in your throat, you do as he asks. He tests the word on his tongue. He nods. “Good.”

“Good?”

“I like it,” he tells you. “Which means I don’t have to change it.”

You tamp down your offense, steeling your face as you remind yourself of how little control you have. A handmaid versus the na-Baron of Giedi Prime. Your odds are poor. 

“With all due respect, my Lord, what is it I can do for you?”

His eyes continue to be invasive, hungry, like the lions you used to read about in your spare time. Practically uncanny. The na-Baron captures the predatory glare of the beast so well that they could stand side-by-side and you would not be able to decide which of the two is more menacing.

Pushing off the wall, he slowly closes in on you until he’s a single pace away from colliding with your body. His smirk drops, then he says, “How would you like to be my wife?”

Your lungs seize. Death flashes before your eyes, a scene more horrific than what you’ve been conjuring over the last handful of days. Instead of the Princess’s hand around your neck, all of Kaitain will be chanting for your head on a spike. If they hear of the handmaid who went to Giedi Prime as a servant only to attempt stealing from the Princess, they’ll drag you to public slaughter. The handmaid who overstepped her bounds—let us make an example of her betrayal. 

“I asked you a question,” he continues, yanking you from your thoughts. 

You take a breath. “My Lord, I am not the offering from Kaitain. I am the Princess’s handmaid.”

Blue orbs lazily rake up and down your figure. You contain a shiver. “Yes, I have eyes.”

“Then you know she is the one for you to choose.”

“The Princess does not suit my taste,” he admits shamelessly, unbothered. His gaze falls to your lips, neediness passing between you as if he’s desperate to claim them with his own. It quickly fades, and he meets your eyes again. His voice is soft when he says, “The Emperor should not have sent you with his daughter. He knows what you look like. It is not my problem if he is foolish enough to tempt me with something better than what he views as his best.”

The dangerous flattery makes your stomach flutter, but then it flips unpleasantly. “There is no better choice than the Prin–”

“That was not a statement up for debate.”

Your teeth pierce the delicate flesh of your inner cheek. “You have many other options,” you say.

“And I have decided you are one of them.”

At your lack of retort, the corner of his lips quirk. He’s dead set, and you’re not sure you have the manipulative abilities to change his mind. Still, you try.

“I’m afraid I don’t have the blood for it, as you know,” you say in a final attempt. “Noble blood mixes with that of its status.”

“Noble blood does what it wants. That’s why we have all that we have, wouldn’t you agree?” he says, and you do agree. You have to. Noble blood knows only how to take. “There is no logic to me selecting the Princess. Should I marry her, you will be brought along as her handmaid, and she will find herself alone in a cold bed while I will be keeping you warm in mine. Is that the kind of marriage you think she envisions?”

He allows the question to hang in the air, and in that time, you imagine what he’s suggesting. You imagine the Princess shunned to another room. You imagine his body on top of yours in the bed that stands behind him, his mouth attached to your neck, sucking in time with the thrusts of his cock. Against your will, you imagine how he would feel, the pleasure he would grant you over and over, and you shake your head to banish the thoughts. 

It can never happen. You know what the Princess wants. Should she become the na-Baronness, she will want him as her husband in more than name alone, alliances solidified through multiple heirs, the power dynamic rebalanced. For that to occur, his affection and a willingness to sacrifice his dominance is required. And you cannot be the thing to throw that plan into a state of turmoil. 

“If I give myself to you now, will you be satisfied?” you ask. 

His brow pinches, the expression on his face nestling somewhere between irritation and confusion. “For tonight,” he says. “But what of tomorrow night, and the night after? Am I expected to have you once and never again?”

“Anything more will put my life at risk upon my return to Kaitain. If the Emperor learns of it, it will be an embarrassment, and regardless of whether or not you choose the Princess as your wife, he will have me killed for daring to be a threat to your union,” you tell him. “And if you do choose her and I return here as her handmaid—though I suspect she will be selecting a replacement soon enough—she will kill me the second she sees anything other than disgust on your face when you look at me.”

A beat passes. The na-Baron hums. He reaches up and takes a lock of your hair, rubbing the strands together and curling them around his finger. A wave of goosebumps makes its way up your arms. 

“Then I suppose you should not return to Kaitain,” he says. 

Your head jerks back. The hair falls from his grasp. “What?”

“If your life is at risk, then you will not leave Giedi Prime. The Princess can go, but not you. The Ladies, the other handmaids, I will send them back tomorrow,” he says. He leans down, his nose mere inches from yours. His breath blankets your skin. “But not you.”

“You can’t just do that,” you whisper, but you know they’re wasted words. There’s already an overarching sense of loss on your side of the room. 

His hand returns to your face and a gasp catches in your throat as his knuckle grazes down your cheek. 

“Of course, I can,” he says. “The Houses bend to Harkonnen will. I can do whatever I want; have whatever I like.” He cups your chin and runs his thumb over your mouth, pulling down on your bottom lip before releasing it. “And what I want is you. So I will have you.”

Your pulse thrums, ears ringing. “Solely for the sake of sating carnal desire. Being your wife is not nec–”

“Carnal desire is a present concern,” he says. “But I will not have another claiming you after I have done so. What’s mine is mine. You will be my wife, and in time, we will know one another in all ways.”

The uproar. News will spread like wildfire, and you are unlikely to survive its rage. The other Great Houses will do nothing, you know, as they do not have the means or might to push against the Harkonnens, but Corrino? The Emperor? 

Surely the na-Baron is aware of the intellect of Kaitain’s leaders. He must understand that the snubbing of the Princess will undoubtedly incite retaliation from the Emperor. And you’re fairly certain in which form that retaliation will come. Where the Sardaukar's strength would fail against Harkonnen forces, their assassins’ infiltration would not.

“I’ll protect you,” he says. “If they dare, I’ll protect you.” 

You could scoff. 

Protect you. Why bother?

Surely, he doesn't want you enough to go to those lengths. You aren’t import–

Suddenly, his hand is sliding around to the back of your neck, and your face is involuntarily heating, and he's muttering a faint “come here” as he quickly draws you into a kiss.

There’s a softness to it that offsets his hardness. A gentleness in the caress. But he has caught you unprepared, cut you off at your thoughts, and the shock has you planting your palms on his chest and shoving.

His lips are parted, his chest expanding and deflating with heavy inhales and exhales. He says nothing as unexpected regret sinks into you—regret that isn’t there simply because he is the na-Baron and you are a servant who shouldn’t be bold enough to interrupt him as he’s doing as he pleases, but regret rather because for that brief moment he felt…good, and you’re overwhelmed by the sense that you’ve cheated yourself. 

You want to try it again, just to see, just to test the feeling, just to understand why you crave more. So you let the tenseness in your shoulder muscles relax. Your heavy lungs release a long-held huff of air. He watches your guard collapse at your feet. 

Slowly, he reaches for you again, but he pauses just as you are ready to feel his touch as if expecting you to flinch, to run, to hide. You do none of those things, so his fingers knit into your hair and he guides your lips back to his. 

Soft still—gentle—but then it changes to passion and greediness, and like the strike of a match, every inch of you is consumed by a flushing fire. Your heart races. Your brain fuzzes. Appendages tremble until the pleasant pressure of his lips on yours settles into your bones. 

His tongue seeks entrance and you willingly open for him. When your tastes blend, his arm sneaks past yours to lock around your waist and he jerks you forward, welding your chest to his. 

The Princess slices through the haziness in your head and you feel the intrusive instinct to end what is happening, but you can’t quite bring yourself to do it. The capability is just out of reach, and it floats further and further away with each second of him kissing you; kissing you as if trying to prove to you how right this is. And you suppose he is succeeding because the thought of stopping makes your gut twist in protest. 

Then he groans—a sound that reverberates throughout your entire body, that makes your veins pulsate and your nerves tingle—and any lingering fear of the repercussions of betrayal dissipates to a barely detectable twinge; enough to permit the removal of your restraints. 

With newfound freedom, you grip his shoulders and attempt to bring him closer than physical bounds will allow. You let your tongue play with his. You nip at his lips. You think you’ve lost your mind, maybe slipped to an alternate universe where this makes sense, but his arm clutches you tighter, anchoring you to reality. 

Well before you’re ready, he breaks apart from you, and with great difficulty, you keep yourself from chasing after his lips like a magnet drawn to its other half. 

He grins at your obvious struggle. 

“You’ll do just fine as my wife,” he says, his hand coming around to cup your cheek. His thumb strokes back and forth along your cheekbone. Another peck lands on your lips. “You might even find yourself enjoying the position…and everything I intend to offer you.”

Paul x wife!reader!!! Was so so good!! I am so happy to hear that you are going to write more for them.

If you are taking thoughts for them, I would love to see when they met? Or their wedding day? If that sounds interesting 🫶🏼

🍉 Blurb requests; a character + any prompt you want.

Author's Note: I'm so glad you're enjoying these! In this one I've sort of implied that Paul and reader met once before, a year before he proposes. He had dreams of her long before their meeting and despite knowing each other from a distance, that's all the confirmation he needs. Reader is well-versed in politics and warfare, much like Paul, and while he's taken with her from the start he also sees the benefits of marrying someone who seems his equal.

Warnings: no real warnings apply, just fluff. R and P get to know each other a little better. <3

"You need to reserve your hand for the most strategic alliance," His mother had said, exasperated in the spearing of her dinner with a fork. "You know that."

"He's already decided." Leto eats slowly, eyes downcast but amused when he briefly glances up at Paul.

"What?"

Paul sighs through his nose. "I've already proposed to her, it's done."

Jessica looks aghast as she sets down her cutlery. "Tell me you didn't."

"I did." He watches as his mother looks at his father and then back at him, slack-jawed as she tries to process the magnitude of what her only son has set in motion.

"Jessica," Leto reaches for her hand. "We should be supporting our son; he's getting married."

She clenches her jaw and slips his grip as she stands, shaking her head. "You knew?"

"No, actually," Leto glares half-heartedly, making Paul duck his head. "He left me in the dark as much as he did you."

"But you suspected?"

He sighs. "Jessica."

She huffs, having her answer as she turns to leave the dining hall. Leto raises his brows at his son apologetically, folding his dinner napkin to set on the table. He stands, planning to play the part of soothing husband he isn't by title.

"I don't want to regret it," Paul says quietly, making him pause. "Not marrying her. I've thought about it for a long time."

Leto nods, pride filling him that Paul is observant enough to see the burdens of his house and family name, and doesn't want to repeat his father's mistakes.

"Your mother will come around," He smooths his beard. "Just give her time."

His mother, thankfully, keeps her internal struggle to herself from then on, not seeing the point in arguing with him when he'd clearly made up his mind. It was one thing for Paul to have inherited his father's stubbornness, but to also have inherited Jessica's tenacity was nothing short of fate. She wasn't sure if it was some cruel joke or not—the boy she bore turning out exactly as she had imagined but continued to surprise her nonetheless.

"Remember," She says as she adjusts the placement of his aiguillette on his ceremonial uniform. "She'll be skittish, despite what she might tell you. You'll need to be calm."

"You talk like she's an animal being led to slaughter." Paul buttons his collar snug against his throat.

His mother purses her lips as she looks him over one last time. "Every woman entering a political marriage is an animal being led to slaughter. And despite her acceptance of your proposal, that is what she will feel like."

She sighs and cups his cheek, brushing her thumb over his skin. "I know you like her. So channel that when you're married, yes? Be careful with her."

He smiles ruefully against her hand. "I know what to do."

You're allowed a semi-private walk with Paul through the grounds as both sets of parents mingle, most likely discussing the wedding and possible dowry, though you had made it clear your parents were to decline should one be offered. The concept of accepting a bride price seemed woefully outdated, and if the rumors were true that the House Atreides would be assuming command of Arrakis and the subsequent spice trade soon, you would become one wealthy bride indeed.

"You think you know what to do. Those are two very different things." She adjusts the Atreides eagle pins on his collar, sharing in his amusement. "Come, let's greet your bride."

"How was the trip?"

Paul, having never been on a Heighliner, asks this with genuine interest.

"It was fine. Secretive." You confess, hand tucked in the crook of his elbow. "I really wanted to see a Guild member, but Mama kept me busy."

You blink, pursing your lips. "Sorry. Mother, I meant."

Paul smiles comfortingly. "You can say whatever you like; we're to be married, aren't we? Who can we trust if not each other?"

Your heart thuds—not uncomfortably—at his words. He seems more mature since you'd last seen him a half-year ago, but still soft-spoken and reserved. You take note the level of care and observation he treats you with as he leads you to the gardens, holding your hand at breast level when you pick your skirts up with your other, walking down stone steps flanked by vines and emerald leaves the size of your torso. His eyes watch your feet to ensure you don't trip, returning your hand to his elbow when your feet are back on the ground.

"Can I truly?" You murmur as he leads you to a padded bench. "Trust you, I mean?"

His expression is earnest. "Of course. Always."

You hum, a tight smile on your face. "I appreciate your proposal more than you know. But the fact remains—we barely know each other. So why did you pick me?"

His eyes duck away bashfully. "I don't suppose you'll believe me if I say it's because I thought you beautiful."

"Not when I've seen you value the intelligence of others." Your smile eases. "Though I'd be flattered if it were true."

"It is true," He looks back at you. "You are beautiful. But you're right. It isn't the only reason."

He sighs evenly as he looks around the gardens. His mother had advised him to tread carefully when it came to his dreams, even suggested he keep them a secret. But how could he keep them a secret from you, when you were often the subject of them?

No, he would trust his instincts when it came to this. There was no other option for him when his gut was tugging in only one direction and sealing his decision.

"For a long time," He says carefully. "I've had dreams—not the kind of dreams that you forget as soon as the day wears on, but the kind that feels real and leaves a-a feeling within me, long after I wake up."

You listen with interest, finding his occasional stammering and pauses endearing. This is clearly something he thinks about often, and why shouldn't he when the dreams happen presumably every night?

"You're there," He murmurs, meeting your steadily widening eyes. "Sometimes you're behind me, like I'm protecting you. Other times you're beside me. Still others, you're reaching your hand out and I'm leading you up a million and one steps."

"I don't fully understand what they mean yet." He continues. "But I know you're always there."

You swallow a lump in your throat. Dreams could be a window into the past, as well as the future.

"What if your dreams are just dreams?" You ask somewhat timidly, not wanting to offend him. "Could you live with that? Being wrong?"

He smiles, eyes soft as he senses your trepidation. It's a big decision, one he knows he can't rush you on.

"I don't think the dreams are inherently right or wrong, I think they just...are."

He lifts his knuckles to graze your cheek, gentle as he takes such a liberty. You seem not to mind, lashes dusting your cheeks in a shy display of modesty.

"Not only are you beautiful, you're kind and intelligent. I know about the Vector Accords."

Your lips part in shock. "How could you possibly...?"

He chuckles, hand dropping back into his own lap. "I see glimpses of other things. I saw you speaking in an enormous auditorium. After I woke, we received word that morning that someone—"

He raises his eyebrows in pointed amusement. "—had negotiated peace between two great peoples on one of the outer worlds. A peace the Emperor himself hadn't been concerned with."

"So yes," He says softly but firmly. "I'd say I could live with having a woman such as you as my duchess."

Your laugh is breathless as you shake your head, thoroughly marveled and more than a little prideful that he had recognized your qualities for the value they had.

Details of the truce were not yet known, even to Padishah Emperor Shaddam Corrino IV. Paul couldn't have possibly known such a thing unless he had been present himself, and it would have been impossible for him to travel there and back preceding your arrival to Caladan.

"Were you nervous?" He asks suddenly, the innocence of the question striking you.

"My palms were soaked." You snort. "Who'd have thought, hm? Me, a mediator."

"You shouldn't sell yourself short. You're so much more than that."

It's odd, hearing such a thing from another young person and not one of your parents or mentors. You'd experienced the courting phase of youth, but never had a young man encouraged in such a way as to make you feel like what you were striving for—peace—was worth it.

You didn't need or want the validation from anyone, but it felt nice to hear it all the same.

"I, um," You blink, looking down at your filigree wristwatch to see it was nearly time for dinner. "I need to think about what you've said, if that's alright?"

"Of course." He appreciates the fact that you're not rushing into his arms, despite your gracious acceptance of his proposal. "Allow me to walk you to your room?"

Your smile is genuine and wide; you expected nothing less.

"Please."

Your wedding is grand, if a bit quiet. Neither you nor Paul see fit to complain. The Emperor sends his regrets of not being able to attend in response to your invitation.

A snub, after a projection of your speech was mass publicized. People were whispering that a little girl was better suited to bringing peace to a war-ravaged planet than a man of seventy-two, and that, you surmised, must be quite embarrassing.

He's quite handsome on your wedding day, your husband. Sitting through the festivities seems a waste when all you really want is for him to hold you. You desire him, most definitely, but you desire his softer attentions more.

If the twinkle in his green eyes and the way he seems to be in no rush to bring you to the separate wing of the castle are anything to go by, then he feels the same.

It's tradition for the groom to carry his bride from the wedding table to the marriage bed, and so he does, but the crowd is respectful as Paul assured you, and they toast you both and cheer loudly as he lifts you in his arms, walking into the castle a married man. The Duke Leto and the Lady Jessica beam as they watch you wave and tuck your head on Paul's shoulder.

"You don't have to carry me the whole way," You giggle, arms wrapped safely around his neck. "It's a bit far."

"It's not that far." He parries with amusement.

But he's not Duncan Idaho—doesn't possess his hulking form—and maybe it is farther than he originally thought, but he refuses to put you down until you hurriedly push open the doors to your new quarters and he deposits you on the bed, rolling over beside you as he catches his breath and let's his shaky arms drop.

"I told you."

He adores the laugh you let out at being correct, and thinks it might be alright to let you have every silly argument or discussion if you'll only laugh like that again.

"It's bad luck if I let you down before," He explains, lips curling. "I want it to last."

You lean on an elbow, your dress a haze of chiffon that will undoubtedly be wrinkled tomorrow.

"Our marriage?"

He nods and you purse your lips, brushing a curl away from his forehead.

"It will last if we want it to." You say softly. "And even moreso now that you've carried your wife to bed."

You kiss him sweetly and he loves you for it, loves the way you acknowledge a Caladan tradition, even if you don't necessarily believe in the superstition of "let your wife down, let your marriage drown."

It's silly but it's woven into the tapestries of his ancestors lives—now his and yours—and he couldn't be happier.

Dune Taglist: @aoi-targaryen

Does anyone know some great blogs or posts on how to create fanfic master lists, how to do tag lists, and overall everything needed to know about posting Fanfiction, especially a series. I’ve googled it and there’s so much information at once, I would really appreciated some blog recommendations that are organized, so I can start posting my dune fic!

I am so excited for the first part! It’s mostly done and baby Paul and Feyd have all the feels and angst!!

Love Thy Enemy

Summary; Y/N Atreides had always been a stranger to the entire galaxy, her bed wasn’t her bed, her home wasn’t her home due to the fact that she was sent to accompany and be sisters with Irulan. She had limited access to her actual family and over the years they grew distant. She thought she would be like Reverend Mother, alone, yet powerful, and soon she would realize that there was no need of being alone when a wild creature had his eyes on her for a long time.

A/N: I'm here with full smut! Hope you enjoy it. Let me know if I forgot to tag you. TAG LIST IS OPEN!

Warnings: SMUT! Fingering, unprotected sex, p in v.

Words: 3.375K

Chapter Nine ''Husband and Wife''

Y/N was startled at first, after last night’s cold behavior she didn’t expect him to take such a bold step and yet there they were, his arms wrapped around her waist and pulling her in for the kiss, he was hungry like an animal, she could feel their bodies pressed, she replied to his plump lips, they were so soft like pillows, just like the night where Feyd took her to show her the kind gesture he planned. Now everybody is talking about Feyd’s garden surprise for her, she even heard servants whisper how much the Na-Baroness is changing the Na-Baron, in a good way and she liked what he heard. However, tonight’s kiss was different than that night, he was desperate and sad to leave her behind. He was mostly sacred, of course she was a capable woman but his uncle’s presence and Rabban returning from Arrakis.. she wasn’t going to be safe and he knew it deep in his bones. He had to come up with a plan to take her with him.

Her hand found his cheeks, gently brushing, he moaned into her mouth and it sent shock waves through their bodies, the kiss was growing more and more, suddenly he pushed her near wall with a frustrated growl and slammed his palms against the cold wall next to her head as he pinned her there, his chest heaving with anger and worry as he glared down at her with dark blue eyes, the room was dimly light, the yellow lights coming from the glowglobs created a warm atmosphere. She looked up at him with sad eyes, he scoffed, his eyes narrowing at her expression as he lean his faces closer to hers, his hands are now on her hips, gripping and making sure she is pressed to the wall,

 ‘’You had to look at me like that, didn’t you..?’’ his raspy voice sent shivers to her body, ‘’Please..’’ she begged, ‘’Don’t go.’’ All of the figtings for weeks and hateful remarks were gone, she was scared for her life. He let out an annoyed sigh as he pressed himself to her body, his hands sliding up to hold her wrists down in place against the wall over her head, his head lowering to bury his face in the crook of her neck, such a gentle gesture, it almost made her cry but she held her tears, she could feel his soft lips kissing her neck, he kept his face buried there as he continued to plant rough kisses on her skin, the anger and worry he felt quickly turning into something else, the need to have her growing more and more intense by the second as he bit at her skin and started to roughly grind my hips against her.

She could feel his growing need for her, and her desire for him increasing, a soft moan leaves her lips as he bit into her skin, she was sure that he was leaving bruises for people to see later. He let out an animalistic growl against her skin at the sound of her moan, his grip on her wrists tightening as he pressed her harder against the wall, his hips still grinding into hers, his body already starting to feel hot at the thought of taking you right here, right now,  ‘’Please, let me touch you.’’ She said with a sweet voice, he slowly pulled his face back from her neck and looked down at her, the harsh look on his face slowly softening at the sound of her gentle voice, ‘’Are you sure you want to do that..?’’ he was still hesitant. ‘’Yes, Feyd.’’

Something in the way she looked at him, the way she said his name… It was like a switch got flipped inside him. He suddenly lean down and captured her lips in a harsh, demanding kiss, a possessive growl rumbling in his chest as his hands released her wrists and started to wander over her body, she took off his tunic and touch his muscular chest and shoulders, his skin was so smooth, he broke the kiss and let out a deep moan at the feeling of her hands on his skin, his own hands travelling under her modest dress to grab and squeeze her soft thighs, his breath coming out heavy and ragged as he stared down at her with a look of dark desire, ‘’You have no idea how much I want to devour you right now, little dove..’’ he confessed, ‘’Take me to our bed.’’ She demanded, he let out a low growl at her command, his hands once again gripping her hips tightly as he practically lifted her up and carried her over to their bed, pushing her down on her back and crawling on top of her, his body almost instantly slotting comfortably between her legs, ‘’Take off my dress.’’ She demanded again, a feral smile appeared on Feyd’s lips at her command, his eyes staring down at her like a hunter looking at its prey,  he grabbed the hem of her dress and unceremoniously pull it off over her head in one quick move, barely even pausing to throw the garment to the floor, she had a nice black lingerie suit underneath, his breath caught in his throat at the sight of her in lacy lingerie, his mind completely blank at her perfect curves and smooth skin, every bit of her body bared to him.. his hands slowly travelled up to roam over her skin, greedily feeling every inch of it. ‘’You are truly a vision, darling.’’

‘’I’m yours Feyd, only yours, your wife..’’ she encouraged him. A dark possessive growl left his throat at her words, ‘’Damn right you are. You’re mine. All mine.’’ He emphasized each word. She moved to take off his pants and he understood so he took them off. This was the first time she saw him naked, what sight he was.. tall, muscular and his hard member erect, the pink tip of him was covered in pre-cum, their bodies on fire. He didn’t took off her bra but left her panty, rolled it to the side. He started to plant hot kisses on her body, lips travelling across her skin, leaving small marks here and there, wanting to make sure everyone knew she belonged to him, ‘’You have no idea how much I love seeing you like this.. my wife.. such a good girl for me..’’ he was honest she could tell and when he called her ‘’my wife’’ she felt her core got wet even more, he bit down on her neck hard as he felt her growing need, his body pressing down on her as another possessive growl left his throat, his mouth moving to her hear, ‘’You’re mine.. my wife. My perfect, little wife..’’ he bit down on her earlobe as one of his hands reached up to grab her chin and make her look up at him, she liked the pet names, felt more and more hungry for him, ‘’Please..’’ she begged, his words had an impact on her like waves o the shore, he couldn’t stop his lips from curling up into a cocky grin at the sound of her pleading and her obvious need for him, his fingers tightening their grip on her chin, ‘’You’re so needy for me, aren’t you? Is my good little wife aching for me to touch her?’’ all he ever wanted was for her to come to him willingly and it was happening. ‘’Yes, please.’’ His free hand slowly traveled down her body, touching her breasts and feeling their firmness and then finally found e-her core, his fingers immediately felt her heat and wetness between her thighs. ‘’Yes.’’ She moaned as soon as she could feel his fingers barely touch her wet core, his fingers started to rub against her sensitive wetness, his touch was a teasing caress, his blue eyes glued to her face, watching every little reaction as he continued to rub her, ‘’Does my good wife like that?’’ he was a brat, teasing her but she loved it, it was better than her dark dreams. ‘’Yes, please Feyd, my husband, please don’t stop.’’

He growled at her words, her face was pleading, moaning softly, he bit her neck again, her words sending a rush of lust and power through his body, his fingers rubbing against her in small, almost lazy circles, ‘’Are you going to be a good girl and listen to your husband?’’

‘’Yes, Feyd.’’ Small and soft moans leaving her lips, one of his hand still holding her chin, his other hand rubbing even slower and softer circles between her legs, ‘’Are you going to do everything I want, my wife?’’ she even got wetter with his teasing and words, ‘’Yes!’’ she moaned out loud, the feeling of her growing even wetter beneath his fingers made a pleased hum left his throat, he kissed her sternum, and left trail of kisses, ‘’Be a naught girl for your husband, tell me what you want.’’ He was also growing impatient but at the same time he was enjoying teasing her with his fingers still on her pussy, drawing light circles, ‘’I want you,’’ she began, her eyes rolling back with lust, ‘’I want you so bad.’’

His lips still on her skin, kissing her, ‘’You want me little dove? But how do you want me? Tell me. Say it.’’ He was insistent. He had to hear those magical words, he had to see her surrender.

‘’Please Feyd, I want you inside of me..’’ she finally gave in, his body set on fire with her words, his eyes going darker than before, his fingers slowly pulled away from her core and only to be replaced by his thick cock, she could see the vein on it, she was scared because it was her first time and he was big, he took a minute to look at her, he noticed the expression on her face and the way her body tensed up, he shifted to a more caring tone on the edge of his hazy mind, ‘’Shh, It’s okay, little dove. I’m gonna make sure it doesn’t hurt, okay?’’ she nodded, she felt safe with him. ‘’Just try to relax.. I’m gonna make sure you’re prepared.’’ And he prepared her with his fingers, he started to gently finger her, as soon as he inserted his finger her back arched, his fingers was long, since she was dripping wet she didn’t fell any hurt, and then he added a second finger, she flinched a bit and stopped, and then continued to pump them in and out. He kept looking at her face as his fingers stretch her, ‘’Feel good?’’ he asked to be sure, he was never like this with any of his partners from the past. ‘’Yeah, don’t stop.’’ The sounds of her enjoying it immediately made him feel proud but at the same time something in the back of his head just felt so damn good about it, the thought of being the one to make her feel good, the only one allowed to make her feel like this.. ‘’Such a good girl.. doing exactly as I say..’’  his encouraging words sent her over the edge, a gush of water leaving her core and covering the sheets under her completely, they were a mess.

He didn’t stop, when he felt the gushing and clenching around his fingers his eyes went wide with mix of lust and pride at the realization that it was him, Feyd-Rautha  making her feel like this, a cocky grin on his face as he kept pumping her and looking down at her, her eyes held tears of lust, her cheeks flushed with what she had done, her thighs shaking violently, he pulled out his fingers and let out a soft, pleased sigh as he looked down on the mess she had made, and then he looked back at her, ‘’Darling, there’s no need to blush. I quite like seeing what a mess I can make of you..’’  he brought his fingers to his lips and slide them into his mouth, her scent and taste was delicious, ‘’How do I taste?’’ a sudden courage came over her, ‘’You taste absolutely delicious.. I could get addicted to it.’’ She liked his answer, ‘’What if I want you to?’’ she couldn’t believe herself, she was being bold because she felt safe with him, his eyes never left her Y/E/C eyes as he lowered his head down towards her core,  his breath already growing ragged and impatient, his voice coming out as a dark, sultry whisper, ‘’Gods, wife, you truly bring out the animal in me..’’ and she felt his tongue, a scream left her lips because she was still sensitive. He felt a wave of pride and power surge through his mind at the sound of her scream, quickly followed by possessiveness when he looked up to meet her eyes, he was looking at her as his mouth moved magically, he had wished to taste her like this for years now ever since he became a man, she was all he had dreamt of. He felt her continuing to squirm under the ministrations of his tongue his eyes never leaving her face to watch every single reaction, ‘’Such a good girl,’’ he spoke after every tongue move, ‘’taking everything I give you.’’

She only replied in moans, shifting, flinching but his hands pressed her to the bed,

‘’My good, little wife,’’

‘’All mine..’’

His wide tongue made her come violently again, he felt it on his tongue and continued to help her come undone, he felt as if he won something important, she was shaking, he pulled his head back to look at her. His chin and chest glistening under the yellow lights, he looked like an animal and she found it charming. ‘’Good girl,’’ he praised her, ‘’so good for me, aren’t you?’’ all she could do was hum to his words. He looked down at her few more seconds before he positioned himself between her legs, his expression is full of hunger, ‘’Can I take you now, wife?’’

‘’Yes.’’ She managed to say, she wanted to consummate the marriage, she wanted to give him babies.

‘’You have no idea how much I want to.. need too..’’ he couldn’t continue his words, his lips crashed to hers deeply, his hips starting to slowly grind against her as he moan into her mouth. She felt him there, as soon as they made contact she moaned in pain, he was big and very thick. He was being slow which she appreciate it, as he entered fully she jerked and screamed in pain but she knew he wouldn’t do anything to make her uncomfortable, he was holding back and she felt even more safe whereas Feyd felt something break inside him at the sound of her moaning and scream, his instincts were yelling at him to go rough and hard, to use her but he held back. He was fully inside her, he looked down at her face, his eyes completely taken over by the burning hunger, the need, the primal, carnal force that is wanting to just rip its way out of his mind and body to take what was his, what he knew was his for the taking…

‘’You don’t understand what you’re doing to me, don’t you?’’

She didn’t understand his sudden question, she was taken aback, he sounded desperate, in need.. ‘’I trust you.’’ She whispered softly, she was still in pain but not much.

He felt her soft whisper, her trust in him hit him like a punch in the gut, everything in him screamed at him to just let go, to give in, to lose control, but that trust, that belief that she was giving him made it impossibly hard not to be careful, to not care, to not be gentle even he didn’t really know how to..

‘’You trust me..?’’

He almost sounded in shock, she held his face in her palms, ‘’yes Feyd, I trust you completely.’’

Her hands on his face felt surreal, this kind of tenderness and care, and the realization that she absolutely, completely trust him, after all he did and everything he was still struggling to control, it made him shiver, he started to move slowly in and out of her, pulling back out of her and slamming back, ‘’You,’’ he moaned, ‘’You shouldn’t.. you shouldn’t trust me this much..’’ he sounded like he didn’t deserve it, ‘’I trust you.’’ She said as he pulled back, ‘’I trust you..’’ she repeated again and again as he moved slowly, the sound of her trust and the feeling of her accepting him.. Accepting all he was, both the good and the bad, made something in his eyes go soft and he felt his heart clench with a feeling he never felt before, a feeling of care and.. Maybe something else he couldn’t recognize,

‘’I don’t deserve you… I don’t deserve your trust..’’

He was moving in and out, wet noises filling the room, their bodies sweating, her nails dragging on his back, she moaned his name ‘’Feyd.. I trust you.’’ She wanted to make him feel all the love and care she had in her, ‘’I trust you, my husband.’’

His eyes went hazy and his mind got slightly blurry at the sound of her moaning his name, the feeling of her calling him husband made the clench in his chest even stronger, his movements getting a bit unsteady and faster at the same time, ‘’Again.. Say it.. Say my name.’’

‘’Feyd..’’ she noticed he got faster, she could feel the building pleasure under her stomach, she wanted them to explode together, he was a machine on top of her and she loved it, yes she was sour but it felt good, ‘’My husband,’’ she screamed in pleasure, his dick felt more bigger now, hitting a sweet spot inside her, she could feel her walls clenching, she wanted to milk him, ‘’Feyd-Rautha!’’ she moaned again.

His eyes got even more darker when he heard her say his full name like that, his mind filling with possessive thoughts, the sound of her calling him her husband filled Feyd with a feeling of belonging, of safety, of being wanted. ‘’Yes, Yes I’m your husband.. your husband.. yours..’’ he was a mess, he could feel her walls clenching, the tip of his cock was hitting something spongy inside and it drove him mad, they were both close. ‘’Come in me.’’ She begged, ‘’I want to give you babies Feyd!’’ The sound of her plea filled his head like that one time he used too much spice, she was a drug. The thought of her swollen and round with their children… the thought of having his babies.. It made the last bits of his control snap like a dry twig and his eyes went darker than the night sky, ‘’Gods, you want to make me a father eh?!’’ he pulled out, with his strong arms he changed her position, now she was on her hands and knees on the bed, Feyd grabbed her hair forcefully she was shocked, he was indeed holding back, he was behind her and he spanked her few times, ‘’Want to give me babies eh?!’’ he asked again, ‘’Yes, Feyd, yes, please come in me.’’ She was driving him insane and he was going to give her want she wanted, he took her from behind, one hand on her waist pulling her to match his thrusts and the other on her hair, her hair was something he admired and to be able to touch it like that made him excited, ‘’I’m coming.’’ He groaned, ‘’Your husband is coming in you just like you wanted, such a good little wife.’’ His words sent her to a paradise, she came and Feyd followed right after.

Moments later, after they took a shower together and Feyd helped her with after care they laid on the clean sheets which Feyd himself changed, they laid on each other’s arms and she fell asleep while Feyd promised himself to find a way to take her with him to Arrakis.

TAG LIST: @superchatnoir07 @mamawiggers1980 @landlockedmermaid77 @moonsoulk @crystalskiesandcherrywine @palomavz @beebeechaos @jeong-uwu @tian-monique @avidreader73 @aleemendoza2425-blog @taleah @oneandonlybbygrl @flower-frog @or-was-it-just-a-dream @howibecameabadassbitch @monstresshorn @keanuispunk @lunerose0 @purplepeach333 @torossosebs @austinbutlerslovers @athanasialove @darlingisntit @aoi-targaryen @alexa4040 @wo-ming-bai @rosegardenpatsu @affabletimelady @mydearbabydoll

Thank you guys so much for supporting! Love you!

Princess!reader, who waited so long for her best friend, Sirius, to get back from war. She spent every night picturing him, how he'd look when he came home, if he'd still smell like the same boy she fell asleep against in the orchards..

She was so excited the day she got a letter from him. He was finally coming home. The war was over. He was victorious, and he couldn't wait to see her.

Only, when he came home, he wasn't alone. She didn't realise it at first. Sirius was all she could focus on, the way he swept her up in his arms, his muscles bigger than the last time she'd seen him. She didn't even register where he was taking her until he set her down on the bed.

Innocent and confused, she looked up at him, waiting for him to speak, to tell her all about his travels, the battles he fought.. but he didn't, and then she heard it.

The door closed, but sirius was already inside. When she glanced over, she nearly screamed. A tall, tan, scarred man stood by her door, with mousy brown hair and sword resting on his hip.

That's when sirius finally spoke. He glanced at the man before returning his attention to her.

"This is my friend. We fought together. You don't mind him being here, right?" He smiled, and her stomach flipped. She'd always loved the way he'd grin at her, too pure to notice how it's changed from the sweet, innocent smile he had as a child, to something darker, smirking down at her with something other than merely happiness.

She was nervous. She'd never been around a man like the one who stood by her door, but she trusted sirius. He'd never hurt her. He just spent a year in a foreign country fighting a war for her father, the king.

She couldn't help but feel a strange sensation in her tummy, though. She didn't know this man, even if sirius did. Her father had told her never to be alone with a man, that she always needed someone to supervise, but it was just sirius.. and his friend..

He was so big, and he had a look on his face that the Princess had never seen before. Sirius had gotten bigger, too. She felt how much stronger he'd gotten when he picked her up. His arms had nearly doubled in size, and his chest was firmer.. He wasn't just pretty anymore..

He was manly now, and it made her feel things, things she'd felt once or twice before, but never this strongly..

Part two?? (Pt.2 will contain smut if I write it!!)

Election Time (1)

Summary: You thought he was your forever.

Pairing: Senator!Tony Stark x Wife!Reader, Bodyguard!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: heavy angst, language, wish for a child, betrayal, failed marriage, soft Bucky

Square filled for @buckybingo (expired): Square 7: Politics AU

You force a smile on your face and nod politely. The reporters cannot know you’re about to throw up at the thought of smiling for six more years.

Tony promised his last election campaign would be the last one. He lied, as so often. Over the years, Tony pledged to you so many things.

A quieter life. The end of his political career after six long years of having a public relationship. Children.

Your husband didn’t keep his promises, and you still didn’t get pregnant even after months of trying. The reassurance from your doctor that you’re healthy and fertile did nothing to help you keep your hopes high.

“What’s the secret of your happy marriage?” An ambitious young reporter asks. She was smiling at Tony like a love-sick puppy the whole time, and now she tries to land a punch.

Rumors about your possible infertility and Tony flirting with his election campaign manager Pepper Potts spread by Tony’s concurrent didn’t make your life easier.

“Love and devotion,” Tony answers before you get the chance to respond. “Honesty and support.” He says it without missing a beat. Ever the perfect politician—or liar—depends on if you are a reporter or his wife.

Again, you nod and smile like a perfectly trained dog. Tony grabs your hand, raising your arm with his to strike a winner pose. You wince because he forgot about the injury on your shoulder. The one you got because he wanted to try a new sex position, only to drop you.

A pair of steel-blue eyes watch Tony and you. Your bodyguard squares his jaw, watching your face contort in pain. He pushes off the wall to whisper something in the head of the security's ear.

“Senator, we should head out now,” Steve, the head of security, looks at Tony. “Sir, we are running late.”

“Right,” Tony clears his throat. “Ladies and gentlemen,” he flashes everyone a stunning smile, “thank you for coming. I hope you vote for the right man in four weeks.”

Applause follows. It always does. Tony Stark is the kind of man drawing people in like the flame draws in the moth.

He finally drops his arm, releasing your hand. You struggle to keep a straight face and not wince again. Hiding your pain, you take deep breaths when someone holds out his hand. Bucky, your bodyguard, helps you down the tribune.

Tony is already chatting up Steve to make sure he checks every spot at the orphanage. As if anyone would try to attack your husband while he shakes the hands of some kids.

“Mrs. Senator,” Bucky chuckles when you make a face at his nickname for you. “Do you want to take the same car?”

“Not today. Tony wants to discuss his campaign with Pepper,” you shrug. It’s not unusual for you and Tony to drive in separate cars. “I can use the break, to be honest.”

“You shoulder,” Bucky softly says. He carefully touches your shoulder. “I’ve got something in the trunk to help you with that. It helps me with the scar tissue at my shoulder, too.”

“Always prepared, aren’t you?” you flash Bucky the first genuine smile. “Let’s go, Dozer.”

“That name again,” he laughs as he guides you out of the back of the building. Tony prefers to use the front entrance to bathe in applause and to give autographs. You are, as always, only an accessory to him. He forgot about you the moment he left the town.

Inside the car, you sigh deeply. It’s the first time you can breathe today. You close your eyes and take deep breaths while Bucky rubs pain gel into your skin. He kneads out the knots and kinks in your shoulders and neck.

“Hmm…you’ve got magic hands, Dozer.”

“I only ran through a door once, Y/N,” Bucky chides. “If I remember right, it was because you screamed.”

“It was a huge spider, Bucky,” you giggle when he grunts. “You threatened to shoot it.”

“I did shoot it,” he corrects while gently rubbing your skin. “You applauded and got me ice cream.”

“You saved me that day.” You smile to yourself. “And many more times since then. Not with your gun, but because you’re always there for me.”

“That’s my job.” He says, making it sound so nonchalantly. As if he doesn’t risk his life to protect you every day.

“Hmm,” you nod. “I should call Tony. He wanted to tell me which outfit to wear for the kids.”

Bucky makes a face but doesn’t say a thing. He watches you button up your blouse and presses his lips into a thin line. Bucky would never tell you so, but he despises your husband and the way he treats you.

“Tons, hey,” you huff when Tony mutters into the phone. He wanted you to call him, only to tell you he must talk to Pepper first. “Fine, just call me if you’re done.”

You drop your phone onto the seat and sigh deeply. Bucky grabs the phone to end the call when you hear Pepper’s voice. Tony must’ve forgotten to turn off the loudspeaker.

“So, are you still as happy as you pretend you are?” She asks, making you frown. How dare that woman ask your husband this kind of question? “Tony, look at me.”

“I’m just trying to keep up the façade until past the election. We are over for months, if not a year,” he casually says while your world shatters. Your eyes widen, and you press your hand to your mouth when you choke out a sob.

Bucky wants to end the call, but you shake your head. You opened Pandora’s box, and now you want to hear everything.

“I heard you’re trying for a baby.” She presses on, making you wince when Tony tells her he never planned on having a baby. It would only distract him from his goal to become president one day. “How did you not get her pregnant if you’re trying for a baby?” She huffs.

“I talked her doctor into prescribing her birth control, but to tell her that it’s vitamins,” Tony reveals. All those months you believed it was your fault you could not get pregnant. Now you know why you didn’t get pregnant. Tony manipulated your plans out of selfishness.

Tears roll down your face when Bucky brings you into his arm to let you cry into his chest. You whimper and choke out a sob, hearing Tony talk casually about his betrayal. You know your marriage got rocky lately, but this is no reason to lie to you.

Bucky ends the call. He doesn’t want you to

“Do you want to go home?” He asks lowly. “Y/N? Where do you want to go? I hope you don’t plan on attending that shitshow.”

“I… I don’t know,” you sniffle. “All I know is that I can’t go home. I can never go home again."

Tags in reblog.

His Scarred Omega Part 4

Part 3 / Series Masterlist

Relationship: Alpha!Bucky Barnes x Omega!Reader

Word Count: ~1900

Summary: Bucky celebrates his first Halloween with his daughter and Omega.

Warnings: insecure Omega, flirty Bucky, flirty Jake, sappy-happy Bucky

A/N: I wrote this story really fast as I mentioned above. It’s proofread but all mistakes are my own.

I also do not give permission for my work to be copied or posted on other sites or fed into an AI machine.

*****

With Halloween growing ever closer, Bucky invites Omega and Gracie to a friend’s place for a family-friendly party. Jake’s assured Bucky his niece would be there, someone Gracie’s own age as well as some others to keep them from being too bored. Steve also promises there will be plenty of homes they can trick-or-treat from, giving Gracie something else to look forward to.

Bucky can’t help taking several pictures of Gracie in her costume. (Omega managed to divert her away from the Harley Quinn costume and into something a bit more kid appropriate.)

He also snaps a couple of Omega when she isn’t looking to save on his phone.

Gracie’s now going as cute little witch. Her blue eyes are sparkling with a bit of help from her mischievous nature, so like his own, and some eyeshadow that Omega helps her put on. The costume’s light-up abilities really sold themselves when Omega presented it to Gracie as did Bucky’s endorsement of the costume.

“You look beautiful, sweet girl,” he assures her when she does a final spin for him.

“What about Auntie? She looks nice, too, doesn’t she?”

Bucky glances at Omega and nods. His lips quirk into a small grin as he takes in the Greek goddess dress she’s put on. She’s added a few golden adornments she’s made to complete her look along with some golden accent makeup that makes her face glow.

“No, I think nice isn’t the right word, sweet girl. I think the word we need for this moment is beautiful or maybe breathtaking. What do you think?”

Omega’s cheeks are heating at his praise though she’s shaking her head at him even as a smile makes her that much more stunning in his eyes.

Gracie eventually breaks through the spell casting around them as she agrees with Bucky.

Omega is doing her best not to let Bucky’s flirting get to her. There’s no way in the world he can ever be interested in her, not after everything with Dot. Besides, she knows he’s just being nice to keep himself in her good graces where Gracie is concerned.

She can tell he’s gearing up to ask for a weekend with Gracie that includes an overnight at his place. As much as Omega isn’t sure she’s ready for that, she also knows that Bucky and Gracie are growing closer to one another. It’s only natural he wants more time with his daughter, especially with so much time he’s already lost with her.

To get them back on safer ground, Omega steers the conversation back on track by saying, “I think Bucky looks quite the pirate, don’t you, Gracie? Looks like he could take over a ship in the harbor and sail away any moment.”

Bucky grins at that. “I’d never sail anywhere without my best girls at my side. Gonna need someone to make sure I don’t get seasick, you know.”

“Somehow, I doubt you get seasick. Those legs of yours look sturdy enough to handle even the roughest seas.”

It hits Omega a second later what she’s said, her cheeks heating further with the tips of her ears and neck joining in, too.

Bucky, thankfully, doesn’t comment further on her obvious embarrassment, but then, the weird connection they share between them tells her he’s quite flattered at her appreciation of his legs. Neither of them still have a clue why this connection exists between them, but they have slowly come to accept it over the last couple of weeks.

Soon enough, they’re heading towards Jake’s home with Steve and Angel.

Gracie doesn’t stop asking questions about his friends and Jake’s niece. Her hope of gaining a new friend is quite palpable as she’s been struggling in school to accomplish the same. Then again, it’s harder to make friends when you’re dumped in a new school after the start of the year.

Bucky’s certain she’ll find her footing soon enough as she’s only been in the school a couple of weeks.

He’s been checking in with her teacher about how she’s doing, something he’s been able to do since Omega added him to Gracie’s file. Sure, he’s only added as an emergency contact, but he’s hoping that will change to full guardianship soon enough alongside Omega’s name.

According to her teacher, she’s settling in well enough though she’s still a bit on the quieter side. She’s quite helpful though she does tend to stick to herself rather than branch out, but her teacher is seeing some signs that Gracie is adjusting and reaching out to her classmates, giving Bucky the assurance she’ll be fine.

When Jake’s home comes into view, Bucky can’t help the small smile curling the corners of his lips as he glances at both Gracie and Omega. He can’t wait to show off his daughter to his friends and her sweet Omega aunt.

Angel meets him at the door and immediately smiles at Omega and Gracie.

“Oh, there’s our guests of honor. It’s so nice to see you both again. Come in. Come in. Jake is so eager to meet you both. Plus, his niece just got here and is already bored with us grownups. Would you like to meet her, Gracie?”

Gracie grins at Angel and takes her hand without hesitation.

Bucky motions Omega in after him and manages to lean in to say softly, “You really are breathtaking, Precious.”

Omega doesn’t get the chance to say anything as Steve and Jake converge on them.

Jake earns a deep growl from Bucky when he dares to awkwardly flirt with Omega after their introductions. Rather than be scared though, Jake just shoots Bucky a cheeky grin while holding his hands up in a surrendering gesture.

“Only fair since you flirted with mine when you first met her.”

Omega arches a brow at Bucky then. “So, you have flirted with Angel then?”

“Only to mess with this dork. Angel will never have eyes for another alpha but him.”

Before Omega can get away, he wraps an arm around her waist and tugs her close enough so he can whisper, “Besides, there’s only one omega that has my undivided attention these days.”

“You don’t have to say things you don’t mean, Bucky. Gracie’s already half in love with you as her dad. You don’t have to keep flattering me to win her over.”

The guarded look in Omega’s eyes has Bucky pulling her closer. His free hand cups her cheek, his thumb running over her cheekbone.

“What if I’m trying to win you over, too? What do I need to say or do for you to realize I think you’re the most wonderful, most beautiful woman I’ve ever met, Precious?”  

Omega doesn’t know what to say to that. As much as she wants to believe Bucky, she also can’t help wondering if he’s done this with Dot or any number of other omegas in the years they’ve lost touch.

Besides that, she knows she’s not like other omegas. She’s definitely no Dot. She’s never pretended to be. Maybe that’s why it’d been so easy for her future alpha to claim Dot while she’d been working hard for their future and Gracie’s. Doesn’t mean the betrayal doesn’t hurt any less though.

Can she trust another alpha to not hurt her again? Can she trust Bucky?

She’s still waiting for him to decide he’s done enough to claim Gracie through the courts and sever any connections she has with Gracie. It’s something she’s seen happen before, and she can’t handle the thought of losing the last member of her family.

It takes her a moment longer than it should’ve to feel and recognize the deep rumble pouring out of Bucky and into her. His hold on her tightens as he does his best to soothe the dark thoughts swirling within her.

This darn connection between them is proving quite maddening. It’s giving her hope where she shouldn’t have any. Bucky, for all intents and purposes, will forever belong to Dot because of Gracie. It’s a futile hope for Omega to think that she can ever compete with Dot’s memory or believe she can wriggle into his heart where she wouldn’t mind being.

It’s all his fault, too.

The constant flowers every weekend he spends with her and Gracie. Doing his best to spoil her as much as he does Gracie on their outings. He’s never failed to buy her something wherever they go, especially something she eyes while they’re there. He never fails to defer to her judgment where Gracie is concerned, too, wanting to make sure he never oversteps.

And hundreds of other tiny things he’s done for her and Gracie since they bumped into him that day.

In just these few short weeks, he’s managed to turn her crush into something so much deeper, and she’s not sure she can or wants to be mad about it.

“Will you and Gracie come back to my place tonight? I have something I want to show you.”

“All our stuff is back home,” she whispers, the only excuse she can latch onto to deny him.

He simply smiles against her skin. She can feel it as he presses the softest kiss to her hair that she’s ever experienced in her life. It’s enough to weaken her resolve and her knees.

“I’ve been preparing for this, Precious. You and Gracie will have everything you need for a single night away.”

“I’ll consider it,” she says before Steve comes to check on them at Angel’s behest.

The rest of the evening, Omega manages to keep Bucky at arm’s length for her sanity. She spends as much time as she can helping Angel out between serving up food and keeping the few kiddos out of trouble.

Gracie and Jake’s niece end up hitting it off so well that both are already begging for sleepovers and other playdates together.

True to Steve’s word, the neighborhood ends up being one of the best trick-or-treating locations with almost all the houses offering candy to the kids traveling between the houses. Some even go so far as to offer up some small but creative haunted houses for the kids to shriek and laugh their way through.

It’s in one of these that Bucky finally gets the chance to have Omega at his side once again. His hand remains firmly interlaced with hers as they see all the spooky sights, tightening in the few instances where a jump scare lands successfully. Hearing Omega’s small yelps and her other hand wrapping around his arm puffs him up in ways he never thought to feel again. It’s definitely intoxicating and something he wants to experience over and over again.

When they finally return to Jake’s home, Gracie can barely keep her eyes open.

Bucky’s carrying her while Omega has her sack of candy.

“You have fun, sweet girl?”

Gracie nods against his neck, a huge yawn escaping. “Do we have to go home?”

“Yeah, we do, but I promise you’ll see your new friend again soon. Auntie and I’ll make sure of it.”

“I love you, Daddy,” she says as sleep claims her.

Bucky’s knees nearly buckle as tears of pure joy blur his vision. He brings his hand up to rub at her back as he whispers back, “I love you, too, my sweet girl. Always and forever.”

*****

Main Masterlist