Summary: Feyd Rautha, your husband, knows you very very well. He knows what your sex smells like, and he’s not pleased when he can sense it on you despite not having seen you at all that day. He reminds you that you aren’t to touch yourself, and that making you cum is his job
Pairing: feyd rautha x fem!reader
Word count: 1K
Warnings: SMUT, 18+, mature language, unprotected sex, p in v, masturbation insinuated, squirting depicted, probably typos sorrryyyy
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Feyd stirred from slumber before you as always, a habitual gesture that allowed you the luxury of lingering in bed as long as you pleased. However, you didn’t see him at breakfast either, hinting at his preoccupation with Na-Baron duties.
All day you found yourself restless and bored, ennui gnawing at you, more than ever typical. You even spent almost two hours in the bath, just trying to make time pass. Spending hours and hours alone, your mind started to wander. Your hands followed suit. You found yourself lying in your’s and Feyd’s shared bed, writhing beneath your own touch. You laid on his side of the bed, his smell helping feed your fantasies as you succumbed to orgasm by your self indulgence. And, once not being enough, for a second time.
Only minutes later you peeled yourself up off the bed, washed your hands, and were once again making your way aimlessly through the Harkonnen residence. To your delight, you heard your husband’s voice resonating through a nearby hallway, and quickly made that your destination. He smiled as he saw you, reaching out for your hand briefly, to acknowledge that he hadn’t seen you all day. As you passed him, he turned his head, inhaling deeply. You continued walking, but he quickly grabbed your arm, stopping you in your tracks.
He pulled you closer, his face just inches from yours. You could feel his warm breath against your skin as he sniffed your skin. Suddenly, he pulled back, his eyes narrowing.
“Did you cum without me?” he asked, his voice low and menacing.
“No,” you lied, trying to pull away from his grasp. But he was too strong. A growl rumbled from deep within him, a reaction to your lie. He could smell you. Harkonnen men were surprisingly gentlemanly and yet so, so primal in nature. The scent of your orgasm on your skin was certainly not one unfamiliar to him.
“Then you won't be too sensitive to cum right now,” he growled, his hand already making its way between your thighs. The men he was talking to quickly took their cue to leave, leaving you alone in the hallway.
You tried to protest, but it was too late. He had already pushed your skirt up and was fingering you roughly. You could feel your clit swelling and becoming sensitive, but he didn't seem to care.
“Push through it,” he commanded, his voice laced with possessiveness, his fingers moving faster and faster. You did as you were told, biting your lip to keep from crying out. But it hurt, and you couldn't help but squirm under his touch.
“Good girl,” he said, his voice dripping with satisfaction.
With his right hand still playing with your pussy, he used his left to flick his belt undone. One handedly, he freed his already hard cock from his pants, lining himself up at your entrance.
His arms snaked around your waist, holding your body flush against his as he slowly pressed himself inside of you. Your eyes rolled back in your head at the feeling of him finally filling you up, like that itch was finally being scratched. He gripped you by the jaw, pulling out of you softly before slamming back into you.
“I make you cum,” he growled, “Me. Not you.”
“Understand?” He barked, pounding another hard thrust into you.
“Y-yes.” You stuttered, watching as he clenched his jaw in pleasure.
“Say my name,” he demanded.
“Yes, Feyd. You make me cum. Only you.”
“Good, darling, good,” he purred, lightly circling your clit with his thumb as he continued to fuck you, there, standing in the corridor.
His grip on your jaw eased, you took the opportunity to press your lips to his, in a burning kiss. You descended into a mess of moans and whimpers as he softly pressed his tongue into your mouth. His hips started to lose rhythm, your noises helping draw him closer to orgasm. He focused his attention on his thumb, rubbing your clit with the perfect pressure and pattern he'd come to learn so well for you.
“That's it,” he whispered to you. “Come for me.” And you did. With a scream he loved so very much, a gush of liquid spilled out of you. Marvelling at the sight in front of him, he continued to work your clit, watching as your squirt continued to stream from between your legs, his pants and boots sprayed with it, a puddle around both of your feet. Never having felt an orgasm so strong, your body threatened to give out as you shook and moaned, letting the last lingering bits of your orgasm out.
His strong arms held you up, as he continued thrusting. You felt his cock twitching inside of you, and with a low, strung out grunt, he spilled his black seed into you, fucking it as far into your pussy as he could. You clenched your walls around him the way he liked, milking him for all he was worth.
He pressed his forehead to yours, catching his breath. “Mine, darling,” he mumbled, slowly pulling himself out of you.
“Yours, Feyd.” You whispered, also still panting. Feyd looked at you, his eyes filled with love and satisfaction, an expression he had reserved for you alone.
“It is my job to make you cum. You do not take that away from me, do you understand?” He reminded you.
“Yes.” You nodded as he cupped your face in his hands.
“Good,” he kissed your cheek, “look at the mess you've made.” Your eyes fell to the floor, you blushed as you noticed the puddle you stood in.
“Go, get dressed for supper.” Even when he spoke softly there was still that harsh rumble in his voice. You obliged, heading back to your chambers.
At the dinner table, you walked up to him, wrapping your arms around his shoulders. “I love you,” you whispered in his ear, feeling his muscles flex in reaction to your voice.
He turned to face you, his eyes dark with desire. “I love you too,” he said, before standing up to pull your chair out for you to sit beside him.
A/N it’s currently 1am I got home from seeing dune part 2 about an hour ago but I absolutely couldn’t go to sleep without giving y’all something ;))
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the best part of dune part 2 are the little expressions feyd has throughout the film. He’s calculating the whole time - plotting his next move and giving subtle reactions to all happening around him. It’s one of the many things that makes Austin Butler’s performance astonishingly fantastic in this film!!
@feydarling : i'm not letting you sleep on the floor.
their plan couldn't have been going worse. on the run, hiding in a motel room that only had one bed, while the rain relentlessly pours down. nothing else around them for miles. by the time rhysand is finished ransacking the vending machines, desperate for anything that didn't look past it's expiration date, he's drenched. a palm pushes back raven strands clinging to his forehead, dumping his haul onto the table while feyre freshens up in the restroom. the rain soaked shirt he was wearing is shed off, as he grabs a pillow from the bed, & the flask he keeps on him, planting himself on the floor.
when feyre emerges, there's an attempt at hiding his grimace — casually shrugging, as if his skin weren't crawling at the thought of sleeping on this carpet. " i've slept in dirtier places, feyre darling. " he nods towards the pile of junk food, taking a swig of whiskey before holding it up to her. " hope you're hungry. we have a lovely spread of stale chips, expired pop-tarts, and luckily ... alcohol. "
does she come to gloat? does she come to torment? there is something broken in him that keens even as she stands there garbed in starlight. in a light he can never thrive in -- gods she is as beautiful as the day he lost her, as beautiful as the day she left behind the settling ruins of a court he was never fit to rule. he cannot blame the state of this place on her, he knows he has driven it to this point, with each friend he sent to the human world who never returned. with each year that ticked by without succeeding amarantha's game. he has damned his court with the love he has for her, destructive and consuming - he had thought himself clever enough to play games of strategy with a king, and had written his own tragedy. forest green eyes cannot drag from her form, half convinced she is a mirage, he sits on the crumbling steps of the home they'd so briefly shared -- the roots have risen through the stone to wrap around his ankle, another around his thigh - seeking him as if to soothe their own distress.
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❛ i don't need you to keep taking care of me , feyra. ❜ her voice was cold , which while not an uncommon tongue from the eldest sister , did carry an icier bite to it. ❛ i get it , hells , you never let me nor elain not forget it. but last time i checked , things are different now. ❜
❛ your home is stunning. ❜ peering from the eyes of the high lady , feyra , aelin cannot help but divert her gaze back to the world before her. the way the mountains strike against the starry skies above while the colors of the city radiate from below – there is an unmatched beauty to it all. and with that , a sense of serenity comes alongside. overhearing chatter from within the home between rowan and those within the night court only emphasizes that the feeling she had embrace did not stop with her. ❛ i don't think i have ever seen so many stars out at once. ❜
a look of feigned innocence shoots from behind canvas, where he was just hidden away & had hurled a ribbon of paint her way from. while his mate excelled at isolating herself to the studio, painting the day away, as soon as feyre had given him instructions & allowed him to his own devices, it had only taken him fifteen minutes to grow restless. he'd quickly forgotten any technique she'd shown him, allowing himself to hastily paint over any mistakes with black acrylic until ... it was just that. seeing her splattered with paint earns a twitch of his lips, shoulders raising. " what? my hand slipped. "
