Blood & Marriage🩸Feyd Rautha x f! Reader

26;

Okay, so Feyd had suckled on your breasts, not to mention tasted your gushy arousal.

Now in your quarters, with one hours left to go until dinner with The Baron, once again you were in an awkward situation.
Your head was stuck in the hole for the arm, FUKING DRESS, because naturally, nothing could go right on this shit pit of a planet.

You'd jumped, wiggled, strained with all your might, all in vein, panic setting in as you run around your bedroom. You could understand why Rautha had slaves dress him.

"Feyd?!" Speaking of the devil; you called to the sly creek of the door closing. "I'm in a situation here! IM FUCKING Panicking ITS BEEN TWENTY MINUTES."

And he laughed, giggled at how you wriggled like a gleeful slug and stubbed your toes in many objects.

"It's NOT funny!" You whined, spinning in a circle. I must punish Ezza. Ow fuck!" The wall you walked straight into almost knocked you out.

"Well! Help me, husband." You turned to the energy of the figure, squinting through the fabric, "or do you wish for me to suffocate?"

Rabban stood with heavy eyes and heat in his stomach, a growling, seditious need, hooked on the curves of your body, and he walked forward, setting you loose in one fell swoop with a tug of his powerful arms. "Sister, how did you make it past infancy?"

...
       ...

"UGHH." His audacity, "RABBAN GET OUT!" You ordered with a flying arm, remembering to maintain your dignity and hide your form. "GO TO YOUR OWN ROOM."

But he didn't, he just stared at you, and you wasn't sure if it was attraction or malevolence, you hid your chest, arranging your dress. "Avert your eyes."

"You want people to look, Sister," he spoke in a gravel tone, dark eyes pits, some chaotic aura surrounding him, "you enjoy it."

And there goes the creepiest thing you've ever heard.

He strut around your room, lifting up your perfume bottle to inhale, "In Giedi Prime culture the widow of a slain brother is passed to the eldest and closest relative, you would be given to me."

"I'm aware," you wasn't, applying your diamond head piece in the mirror as he ran fingers over your makeup brushes.

"I know he hasn't even touched you," he said it so violently, so rushed and barbed it made you stall, his face pinched, spinning on your toes to face him. But the venom wasn't directed at you.

And he was marching towards you, stopping barely an inch away, you back hitting the vanity as his hand came up to sweep away a curl on your forehead that'd escaped the luxurious up do. "You truly are beautiful." And he bent to your height, wine on his breath, although he wasn't drunk. "For an Atreides."

His belly hit yours with his breaths, muscle taut under his armour as he leaned in syrup slow to your face, hooked on your quivering lips. "If you were mine my seed would have swollen your belly weeks ago, I would have had you on the Heighliner."

Time to act; Time to be your mother and recall her lessons. You repeated a litany, 'fear, fear is the mind killer.'

Rabban didn't appreciate the strong female, he liked them submissive, delicate, dainty sweet things who belonged in kitchens and birthing beds, who looked at him with awe—struck eyes.

"Rabban, you go too far." You looked cautiously down at the whip coiled around his hip, feigning fear, "you shouldn't—."

"Don't be afraid of me, little one." He soothed with his interruption. Moon—eyed as the spice incense burned, pale as Caladian snow as he towered over you, he was bigger than Feyd, "I won't hurt you."

Sounded like he meant it to, a whispered promise.

"The Na—Baronship should be mine," he clenched his fists, expression one of wrath, "I should be The Barons heir," and his dark brown eyes that softened settled on your tamed face as he stroked the blade of a finger down your hot cheek, "you, should be my wife."

You needed to be careful, Rabban was a beast, a kinslayer, who murdered his own father, not as calculated as Feyd, he was a brute with a small brain who took rejection personal. Murderously so.

Your shy smile hit him harder than a punch to his chin before you traced a finger over the dirt of his armoured chest. "I know what it's like to be passed over for the younger sibling." You gulped, "to be pushed aside by those you give everything for."

"You do?" Glossu Rabban spoke, a breeze through autumn leaves. "Then why don't we—."

You both heard it, Feyds unmistakable boot—steps coming right towards the room.

You both reeled back, you sitting in the chair to apply the last slick of bold lipstick and tame your dress, Rabbans hands hitching on his hips.

The door slammed open, Rauthas predatory eyes hooked on his brother's wider form instantly.

"What are you doing here?" The oldest asked.

Rautha fizzed, cutting away a piece of apple with a short blade. "You're in my quarters with my wife, brother," he said with an acid tone, "what are you doing here?"

The energy in the room was chaotic, a storm threatening through black, rolling clouds.

"I came to inform the Na—baroness of dinner with our uncle." He said cheerily, "considering you were otherwise engaged in the slave quarters."

Your heart skipped a beat, tube of gold flecked mascara smearing at the side of your eye. HE'D BEEN WITH HIS WHORES?

"I was playing pyramid chess with the Slave Master as I've done since I was fifteen, nothing more." He bit, eyes withering as he took a hyenas stance, "be careful what accusations you make. Now LEAVE US, brother."

Rabban nodded, turning to leave.

"Oh, brother?" Feyd purred, "tell Uncle we won't be joining, I have an heir to create."

You dropped the entire mascara.

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