Id-rather-be-in-middle-earth - 👑❤Bisexual, Introverted, Socially Awkward💖🏳️‍🌈

Does anyone write or know someone who writes fanfiction for Mad Men?! I need Don Drapper smut fics like it's my air to breathe!!!!

I love him so much!! 🥰🥰😍😍

"Higher Purpose" - Feyd Rautha x Atreides!Reader

a/n: i went a lil crazy with this one idk dawg. based on several anon requests + one from @the-shadow-queen02 🩷

Summary: The Reverend Mother always told you that you were meant for a higher purpose. What happens when your brother throws that into jeopardy?

TW: dubcon (reader uses the voice but not to solicit any sexual acts), profanity, innuendo, she/her pronouns, AFAB reader, PUBLIC sex, mommy kink tbh, switch!feyd and switch!reader, cannibalism (the harpies ofc), blood kink, knife kink, breeding kink, oral f receiving, choking, handjob, p in v sex, inkpie, death/murder/violence

Word Count: 3,500

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Dune characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used nor do I claim to own them.

Comments, likes, and reblogs are never required but are immensely appreciated 🩷

All your life, you have been told you were born to serve a higher purpose - a cause greater than yourself. That you were meant to birth the Kwisatz Haderach, the Chosen One, who could see through time and space. For this higher purpose, you were taken from your home when you were barely weaned from your mother, though she did not care. She would soon be with child once again, this time? A male heir as a testament to her love for your father. You often thought about your family, wondering if they also thought of you. You saw them in your dreams, often calling out to your mother and your little brother, though if they heard you, they gave no indication.

And after some time passed, your longing for family grew into bitter resentment. Your anger toward your mother and father and younger brother grew and grew, and instead of missing them, you threw all your efforts into your training, wanting to become the most powerful Bene Gesserit in existence. You took all the sisters’ teachings to heart, working longer and harder than any of the other novices. And it was noticed. The Reverend Mother gave you praise she afforded no one else, stating that you were the most skilled Bene Gesserit she had seen since your mother. But that wasn’t enough for you.

You wanted to be better than her.

Your hatred, your anger, your bitterness… It all fueled you. Molded you into the woman you are now. Some of the other sisters voiced their pity for you, having to marry and procreate with a barbarian Harkonnen like Feyd-Rautha. But you? You have no qualms about it. After all, you were always meant to serve a higher purpose.

A purpose that is put into jeopardy when your mother begins calling your younger brother the Kwisatz Haderach, the Mahdi. The One. The Reverend Mother pulls you aside after visiting Caladan, admitting her doubts about Paul’s worthiness to be given the esteemed title. Rather than waiting until your twenty-first birthday to send you to Giedi Prime, she wishes to send you now. She wishes for you to seduce the na-Baron and bring forth an heir - the true Chosen One - as soon as possible.

As far as you’re concerned, this is the perfect form of revenge against your family. So you agree without hesitation.

Feyd waits at the landing platform to welcome you as you step under the light of Giedi Prime’s infrared sun. He is tall, his presence looming and threatening as he walks toward you, with all the grace of a lion about to attack a gazelle. What he doesn’t realize is you are no harmless prey. In fact, it is the law of the jungle that the lioness is fiercer than the lion.

He circles around you, twirling his crysknife in your hand, as if evaluating you before remarking, “You are… Shorter than I expected.”

Your lips curl upward at his words, “Is that a problem, na-Baron? Perhaps I can ask them to send someone taller.”

Rather amused by you, he steps closer, using his blade to tilt your chin up toward him, “They say you Bene Gesserit are to be feared. That you’re witches. But there is nothing intimidating about you, little witch.”

“I warn you, my lord,” you reply coolly, meeting his gaze without any reluctance - something that seems to surprise him, “You should not underestimate me.”

He chuckles, staring you down, his blade pushing off your hood and revealing your face in its entirety to him. His expression seems approving as he comes even closer, tracing the contours of your cheeks, your jaw with his knife, reveling in the fact that you do not so much as flinch.

“I suppose we’ll find out whether you have as much fire in your veins as you say you have,” Feyd presses the blade to your throat, his breath hot against your skin as he demands, “Show me that you do not fear me, little one.”

You let out a soft laugh, resting your hand over his, pushing the blade even harder against your neck, nearly enough to leave a cut, “It is a fine blade, na-Baron. But I do not fear it, nor do I fear pain. But…” You pause before impressing him with your mastery of the Voice, ordering him, “Tell me what it is you feel.”

A chill runs down Feyd’s spine, his words tumbling forth in spite of himself, a low groan erupting from his throat as he admits, “Excitement. Fear. Confusion. Arousal.”

You lean in, your lips nearly brushing against his as you whisper, “Good.” And just as quickly, you pull away, gesturing toward the three women standing behind him, “Would you mind having one of your ladies show me to my room? I’d quite like to freshen up before dinner.”

Feyd nods, watching his Harpies flock to you, cooing their admiration, while you soak it all in. He watches them lead you away, thinking how much he looks forward to dinner.

Perhaps wedding an Atreides won’t be as horrid as he thought.

Your husband-to-be summons you to the training room rather than his chambers, where the two of you are meant to dine. However, you know what this is. His attempt at exerting dominance over you, forcing you to watch a display of his strength. Amused, you go to the training room, happy to play along with this little game. Feyd is lethal, in the most beautiful of ways. You watch the way he easily brings each one of his opponents to the ground. No mercy, just sheer brute strength with an effortless sort of grace. You watch with interest, something that seems to please him, smirking as he delivers the killing blow, his face coated with the blood of his felled opponent.

“Well done, na-Baron.”

Feyd walks toward you, “Thank you. I needed to take the edge off my… Appetite.”

“I’d have been all the more pleased if you had kept that edge, my lord.”

He chuckles at your words, and the fact that the blood does not seem to bother you, moving to grab you by the hips, tugging you closer toward him, “Be careful, Lady Atreides. You might entice me into acting out my desires here and now.”

Your future husband notices the way your eyes grow cold at the mention of your family name, the ice in your voice as you reply, “I do not go by that name, my lord. I quite preferred ‘little witch’.”

Feyd nods, “As you wish, my lady.”

The two of you walk toward his private chambers, the mood soon returning to the playful flirtation of before as you comment, “To answer your earlier statement… Let’s file that idea away for later, shall we? I heard that public displays are not uncommon here.”

“And here I was thinking the Bene Gesserit were pure and proper.” You come to a stop in front of his chambers, Feyd’s front pressed up against your back as he opens the door and whispers in your ear, “Do you know what kind of thoughts you put in my head?”

You turn your head slightly to face him, so close that your noses brush as you murmur, “Unless that is a knife you have pressed against my backside, I have a decent idea of what those thoughts are, na-Baron.”

“Oh, you really are a little temptress, aren’t you?” Feyd grins, those darkened teeth of his doing nothing to deter you as he leads you inside.

You take a seat at one end of the table, crossing your legs, resting your chin on your palm as you lean forward. You notice the way Feyd’s eyes are drawn to the exposed skin of your thighs, your cleavage, your neck… He has fallen for your wiles, hook, line and sinker. You brush your foot along the inside of his calf as you sip at the wine one of his slaves brings forth, smirking at the low groan he lets out.

“Do you have any idea how hard you’re making it to control myself?”

“Patience is a virtue, na-Baron. You’re a great warrior. I am sure you already know the value of waiting for the opportune moment to strike.”

He shakes his head, dragging his chair to sit beside you, his forwardness and eagerness to be near you being somewhat endearing, bringing a smile to your face as he rests a hand on your thigh, “Indeed. But sometimes, a warrior must also let go of his inhibitions.”

By the time the slaves return with your meal, you have seated yourself in your na-Baron’s lap, your lips moving against his in a messy, heated kiss. Feyd’s hands tangle in your hair, tugging eagerly as you move to whisper in his ear.

“You’re not half bad at this.”

“This…” Feyd pants, moving one hand to squeeze at your breast, “This is still the appetizer.”

Since he seemed to enjoy your use of the Voice on him before, you do it again, staring into his eyes as you question, “Tell me what it is that you desire…”

He shivers, eyes nearly rolling back at the sensation of surrendering himself to you, inhaling tremulously before he replies, “I desire you. All of you. Like I have never desired anything else in my life.”

Your tongue trails along the shell of Feyd’s ear, a grin blossoming on your face as he lets out a ragged breath, pulling you even closer to him, his face nearly buried between your breasts as you tease, “And as your wife, you will have all of me.” You pull back slightly, fingers caressing his throat before wrapping around and squeezing, ever so gently, “You are a complex man. With the desire to dominate as well as to be dominated.” You move to kiss his Adam’s apple, nipping at it and reveling in the way he hardens against your thigh, feeling you grinding against him, “It is a desire I share. To both receive and to give. I think this partnership will work out quite well in that regard.”

He grunts, panting slightly as you move to palm at his cock over the fabric of his leathers, his entire being screaming at him to bend you over the table right now and make you scream his name for all of Giedi Prime to hear. But, on the other hand, the delicious torture you are currently inflicting on him is equally as desirable. His hands move to squeeze the flesh of your ass, letting out a shuddering moan as you nip at his earlobe.

“You are the perfect wife for me, my na-Baroness.”

It does not take long for Feyd to realize just how much the two of you have in common, something that endears you to him all the more. You grow closer and closer with each passing day, your wedding approaching. You share the same bloodlust, the same desire for power, the same cunning, the same drive to do better than your siblings.

Something which has brought you to where you are now, reveling in the glory of Rabban’s defeat at Feyd’s hands, your husband having now taken command of Arrakis. You watch as he slits the throat of one of his slaves before shoving the poor thing at the Harpies. He brings the blade to your lips, cock straining against his pants as your tongue darts out to lick the knife clean.

“Arrakis is just as you described,” you muse, “Quite entertaining.” Feyd takes a seat beside you, wrapping an arm around your shoulders, feeling the way you lean into his touch before murmuring, “Shall I tell you about my relationship with my own brother?” Feyd turns to you, slightly surprised that you are willing to open up to him about the topic, but nods. “My mother had me for only one purpose. To assuage the Bene Gesserit. She said I was meant for a higher purpose, and sent me to them when I was barely weaned from her breast. It was Paul she wanted. So arrogant, thinking she could bring forth the Chosen One when it was I who was meant to bear him.” Feyd listens to your story intently, the pieces falling into place as you explain the reasons behind your bitterness toward your family, “My brother… I have seen him in my dreams, calling himself the Mahdi. He is nothing more than an arrogant child. I eagerly await the day you meet him in battle and will cheer your name louder than anyone as you strike the killing blow.”

Feyd moves to rest a hand against your cheek, his voice a low rasp as he whispers, “I will kill him for you, my na-Baroness. I will lay his body at your feet as a wedding gift.”

He kisses your neck, his arousal only growing as you murmur, “I want you to wed me as he lays dying. I want him to breathe his last breath, watching as you fill me with your seed. Knowing he is not the Chosen One, but rather it will be the child you sire, the one that will grow inside me. Is that acceptable to you, my lord?”

Oh, it is more than acceptable.

The day where your husband-to-be and your brother meet in battle comes sooner than anticipated. You are surprised by Paul’s audacity in challenging the emperor for the throne, but even more so at the gall he displays after learning who you are.

“Brother,” you welcome him with an icy smile, your arm looped in Feyd’s as he arrives at the Arrakeen palace, “Welcome to our castle.” He stares at you in confusion for a moment, looking between you and Lady Jessica - the woman who gave birth to you but you will never acknowledge as your mother. You let out a bitter little laugh, sneering, “Don’t you recognize me from your dreams, little Paul? Or am I meant to call you the Lisan al-Ghaib now?”

Paul’s lips part in shock at the realization, but he quickly recovers, meeting your gaze, “You have changed, sister. But I must ask why you stand at the side of those who killed our father. Do you have no loyalty to your family?”

“Your family. Not mine,” you cut him off sharply as Feyd pulls you closer.

“You are not just a Bene Gesserit, sister, you are an Atreides-”

“That name means nothing to me. Nor do you nor our father nor mother.”

Paul stares at you, completely taken aback, his voice and eyes turning to steel, “If you and our cousin bow to me and swear your allegiance, I will spare you.”

You shake your head, resting a hand on Feyd’s chest, “We would die before bowing to you, little brother.” You turn to your mother next, eyeing her disdainfully, “You truly thought you could rob me of my birthright? My purpose? It is I who will bear the Kwisatz Haderach, Lady Jessica. Your son is little more than a pretender.”

It does not come as a surprise when the Emperor chooses Feyd as his champion. You stand beside your betrothed, taking his hands in yours, an ancient proverb of House Harkonnen crossing your mind, one you read about when you learned it was a Harkonnen that you would marry, Giedi Prime that would become your home. You pull Feyd into a passionate kiss, one that has him gripping you by the hips as if to ground himself in reality.

“Come back to me with your shield,” you whisper against his lips, “Or on it.”

Feyd lets out a low growl, holding you even tighter, your commitment to him and his house affirmed. Then, he turns from you and begins the battle in earnest. You watch with admiration as Feyd leaps into action, every movement purposeful, with the singular goal of defeating your brother. Your heart pounds against your chest, eyes gleaming with excitement as Feyd manages to stab Paul once, while Paul has not even landed one hit. Your brother, in all his arrogance, will never be half the fighter your betrothed is. The fight continues, and though Paul does his best, Feyd defeats him with relative ease. You walk toward his fallen body, listening as he gasps for air, blood pouring from his wounds. You stand before Feyd, wiping the blood from his face with a smirk.

“Well fought.”

“I have kept my promise to you, little witch,” he chuckles, pulling you into a kiss, “And now I will make good on the other promise I made.”

Paul clings to life long enough to watch as Feyd holds the Reverend Mother at knifepoint, demanding she proclaim the two of you as bound in holy matrimony. Feyd wastes no time in pinning you to the ground beside Paul, your arms wrapping around him, lips crashing against each other’s in a desperate, feverish kiss. Feyd pushes your dress up just enough to reveal your bare cunt to him, groaning as his fingers trace your slit, feeling the wetness that has pooled between your thighs.

“I had no idea seeing me fight would arouse you so,” he chuckles darkly.

“Everything about you arouses me,” you reply playfully, glancing over at Paul who grows weaker with each passing moment, though the anger on his face remains as Feyd moves to lap at your slick folds, preparing you for his cock, “My husband, let me bear your heirs. Let us bring forth the Chosen One. Let us serve the higher purpose we were meant to.”

Feyd moans against you, mouthing at you eagerly, the sloppy, wet kisses he lands on your bare core, the way his tongue delves inside of you, his bloody hands staining your thighs crimson as he tastes you… It doesn’t take long for you to reach your peak, pulling him closer, wrapping your limbs around him as you palm at his cock. You undo his pants just enough to free it, giving it a few quick tugs, guiding him inside you. Feyd lets out a low hiss as he feels your wetness squeezing around him, rutting against you like some sort of depraved beast.

You grin as your eyes meet his, Feyd’s lips capturing your own in yet another hungry kiss. You know that Feyd belongs to you, his body, his soul, his heart. And in the same vein, you do not mind allowing yourself to belong to him. Not when he has given you the justice you have so desperately craved all your life. Not when he is about to give you what it is you have always wanted. Each snap of his hips fills you once more, making you moan his name in ecstasy, the two of you enjoying the eyes of all those present on you as you make love right there in front of all of them. And the both of you smirk to yourselves as Paul lets out his dying breath, the last thing he sees before he dies being Feyd spilling himself inside you, his black seed coating your thighs.

That night, you lay in bed beside your newlywed husband, the two of you completely bare having just consummated your union once again, a wicked smirk playing on your lips as you muse aloud, “The False Prophet died watching the true Chosen One to be conceived.”

Feyd barks out a laugh, watching as you move to straddle his hips, letting out a satisfied groan as you sink down onto his cock, letting him fill you once more, “Poetic, almost.”

He loves the way you admire his chest, his toned stomach, your hands running all over him, smearing his battle paint, before your tongue follows the same pattern. You roll your hips against his as you take one of your nipples between your teeth, nibbling slightly, making him groan as his hips buck up desperately against yours. Never has he felt so desired, so wanted in a coupling as he does with you. Though your marriage may have been arranged, it would seem the two of you cannot live without the other now.

“Why stop at Giedi Prime and Arrakis?” You ask him, his eyes transfixed by the sight of your breasts bouncing as you ride his cock, “The emperor is old and weak. He has no sons. The seat is ripe for the taking.”

Your words strike a chord in Feyd, and he gives you that blackened grin, nodding as he holds your hips in place, desperately thrusting up into your warm, wet cunt, “Yes… Emperor Harkonnen and Empress Harkonnen…”

“Our reign will be one to remember,” you moan against his ear, “And our son… The Chosen One… He will take the throne after us. A higher purpose. The world is ours, my love. If we only reach out and take it.”

And as your hands squeeze his throat gently and he spills himself inside you again, he realizes just how right his little witch is.

His empress.

I'm in love with Hilda, ooh honey 😍😍

Hilda by Duane Bryers

Are you still writing heisenberg dad fanfic that’s Bela x fem reader?

Yeah, I'm just a procrastinator and wanna write at least the prologue and like 2 chapters before posting. I'm just kinda stuck on a story line and how to start it.

But yes. I'm still writing, I just haven't posted anything.

Reblog to give your followers choccy milk