Blood & Marriage🩸Feyd Rautha x f! Reader

11;

He OBVIOUSLY didn't see you as a threat or his shield would be activated.

"I have to admit I didn't expect that much disappointment." Not understanding what the issue was, or more likely, not caring, Feyd shrugged, just getting himself comfortable, burrowing down for the night, being sarcastic. "Will you use the voice on me, darling?"

"Not the voice." You'd squeaked, so mouth—foamingly insulted, tearing at a pillow, wrathful at the raw rejection and break from protocol. "What kind of man doesn't touch his new wife on their first night together?! WHO? And it won't be the voice, husband, but a hammer! Why are you such an asshole? A sand worm of a man."

The temper tantrum didn't phase him, stealing more space with his bullish elbows. "We have the rest of our lives to play, na—Baroness."

It wasn't "play?" You slapped a palm to your forehead, casting a sad glance at your polished reflection, all dressed up with nowhere to go, "Feyd, this isn't play, this is duty, the whole reason I'm here."

He flashed you a hazardous look, cracking open inside eyes, lips somehow redder, WOW colour on his cheeks, "don't speak to me of duty, little girl."

Your mouth fell open, the hand you couldn't remember touching his arm flying away as if he burned. "Don't call me that."

"But that is what you are," and Na—Baron stared at the flesh you'd squeezed, the tiniest little hairs of his saluting, enamoured with it as he brushed the spot with long fingers and shuffled in a way you took as discomfort, "the day has been long, you have MUCH to learn."

He turned, away from you, sighing into the fleecy comforter, "my son will come in his own time, Atreides," his toes curled, his back bumping your chest, "and to take you now would be...distasteful. Have patience."

You STAMMERED, taking note of where he hid his blade, shadows dancing on your faces as the celebrations continued still, DISTINCTLY Atreides with your haughty nose stuck up, retreating to the far side of the den to settle into a ball.

There WAS SO MUCH TO SAY. The Lady and Duke wouldn't forgive such an insult, Paul would cut him. Not worthy to touch on your own wedding night? This pale ghoul made you feel...unworthy, unattractive.

Your husband settled, yawning into the light of the fireworks, "I suggest rest, the people of Giedi Prime expect your attendance on the streets tomorrow."

There was no scenario you could think of where he'd see you cry, so you didn't, nor did you beg for his ugly, but nonetheless large dick he'd left out for the night.

He had been asleep for some time, the nights here so much longer, deeper, a stretching darkness, so called husband flat out on his back as if nothing could ever harm him.

The machines didn't stop on this world, workers hauling through the industrial plants at even the loneliest hours, the smog growing thicker before the atmospheric pumped fresh, filtered air through the fortress...

And every now and then, a scream.

On the second time it had woke Feyd, his body flinging from the covers, scanning the room instantly, checking your pretend sleeping form for wounds.

He hadn't shared a bed in a while from the rest of his behaviour either, flinching when you moved or grazed him with a finger or foot, snorting in agitation like Starfire did when she was pissed off, "SLEEP." He'd bite, feeding you more blanket before flopping down. "That's just him in the pleasure dome."

You DIDNT ASK BECAUSE YOU DIDNT WANT TO KNOW. You couldn't change it...yet.

No sex would mean no children, no children this would all be for nothing, a failure. And if anyone knew this juicy piece of scandalous information they would laugh, shame you both, for someone who LOATHED humiliation Feyd had done a steaming pile on you.

It was EXPECTED for your belly to be swollen within the first three months.

Four thirty, and into the middle of the summer months, the black—sun had peeped over the horizon early, streaming in through the windows.

"Ugh maker." You blinked awake, shook for a second, groaning, remembering just where you were as hazy eyes drank in the unfamiliar surroundings, the tall ceiling dazzlingly high.

Head lolling on the pillow, not exactly pleased to see your 'beloved' who was COMATOSED, still out, what was he still growing or something? Breathing roughly in a dream that made him hum, and his arm had thrown over your middle, pinning you there. "Ew release me, demon."

"Unhand me." You TRIED TO move it, lifting his wrist before he muttered something offensive and slapped it back down.

Just about to accept your fate, too warm, wondering how something so savage could look so handsome, if the restless wriggling didn't wake him up the scream you let out at the NINE + PEOPLE JUST LOITERING MALEVOLENTLY AT THE END OF YOUR BED DID. "Feyd! Wake up!"

In the spirit of a true savage warrior, ready for hand to hand combat, in a MOMENT Rautha lunged to his feet, bare dick and all, about to fucking riot—until he looked at your defensively tucked self as if you'd blew snot bubbles.

De Vries had smacked his lips, fingers held together, bowing, at him first obviously, "na—baron," very judgemental face pointing at you, "na—Baroness." The other lackeys introducing themselves. Chief doctor, multiple advisors, political spin men, head of Slavers, so on and so forth, just chatting as if it was a perfectly normal, casual activity to do, the all seeing Hakim knowing something was wrong.