❝𝘠𝘰𝘶'𝘳𝘦 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘫𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘰𝘶𝘴 𝘣𝘦𝘤𝘢𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘐 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘪𝘳.❞ You, an Atreides, the only daughter of Lady Jessica and Duke Leto are married to the violent bald Harkonnen.
I wrote all 20 + chapters of this in like three days so spelling...
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Hello sexy people! Thank you once again for reading this far! 💛
He hadn't done anything you'd expected him to.
All this shit because of sperm, who knew Feyd's little...uh, Feyd's would cause trouble before one of those slimy little shits even met your egg.
Ew, eggs, you had eggs.
Golden girl of Giedi Prime your ass. Trying to be a bad bitch had got you fumbled. And when you found who snitched you'd...probably do nothing. Only Ezza knew.
So either there was a camera in your room, or this was a betrayal.
You sprayed some more solution on the mirror, wiping it down with a cloth.
NINE HOURS CLEANING THE NASTIEST SHIT BOX IN THE UNIVERSE. Literally the soldiers pooed, peed, and generally acted like DISGUSTING MEN in here.
This was your punishment.
It looked like a locker room, only FUCKING MASSIVE, the same ones your Fathers elite soldiers had, unimaginable horrors existed here. The home of some special force battalion.
You'd cleaned the floor six separate times, scooping up the layers of blood and sweat and whatever that sticky stuff was. No, you didn't want to know.
"Harkonnens obsessed with purity yeah fucking right, dirty ass man sluts." You breathed on the glass, buffing it.
The showers? You'd kneeled and scrubbed the trays, stripped the limescale from the water heads.
Bins? No one would believe you if you told them the Na—Baroness carried heaped trash sacks to the garbage chutes.
But the urinals....you'd used a strip of fabric from your dress as a face mask, attacking them with a slapping motion to remove the yellow splashes.
You'd put in a hundred fresh towels, too, dispensed those classy little soap bars in the once greasy holders, HELL, you'd folded the napkins, why were napkins so difficult to stock?
Maybe for a second you almost created chlorine gas but never mind that was in the past.
Not to mention removed underpants stuffed in strange places. Collected socks on light fixtures. Someone had pooped, fucking pooped behind the radiator. TROGS.
And De Vries, the freak, ASSIGNED TO WATCH YOU, THE WORLDS UGLIEST BABY—SITTER, had just sat on a bench.
Watching malevolently. Full of impure thoughts.
You'd bent down in front of him once before he'd made a strangled noise. Maybe it was fashion, most likely he was a pervert.
Now, with messy hair sticking to your pink cheeks, dress ruined with bleach stains, you put on yellow gloved hand on your hip, mop gripped in another—all that remained was the water fridge.
