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periprose · 2 months

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Priestess | Sayyadina

Faith is falling in Sietch Tabr. Reverend Mother Ramallo has a solution– marrying Naib Stilgar to one of the Sayyadina, in order to greater connect the people and the spiritual way, and enable Lisan Al Gaib’s journey to freedom, when he appears. This is your story as the chosen priestess.

Genre: arranged marriage to lovers, fluff, smut, (oral, piv, 18+) angst, lots of sci-fi Dune book references

Word count: 9.8k

Fremen Dictionary:

Sayyadina: Lower ranking priestess(es) who have not yet drank the Water of Life

Naib: Leader of a Sietch

Sietch: Cave/place of assembly by the Fremen

Sahar: Reader’s Sietch Name

Biet: Reader’s Fremen Name

Stilgar climbs up the rocky terrain, his fingers adeptly finding well-known grooves in the stone as he lifts himself to the absolute top of the cliff.

He needs some time to think over his conversation with Ramallo, Sietch Tabr’s Reverend Mother, before he heads back to the Sietch. Stilgar is not one to stay away from his people, his community— but for once in his life, it’s too close for comfort.

As Naib, there will be too many people coming to him at once, asking for his advice and input on things he is normally capable of answering. Friends and family will approach him closely, knowing too much about him to tell there’s something on his mind, and expecting him to be transparent as he typically is.

For this moment, though, he needs his head to be clear. He cannot be as jovial as he might’ve been in the past.

What Ramallo offered him is a subject matter he does not take lightly.

The sun is setting as Stilgar remembers their conversation from the previous hour.

“As Sayyadina, as Reverend Mother, my honest recommendation is that the Northern Fremen need to replenish their numbers.” Ramallo speaks in hushed tones of Chakobsa, the native Fremen language.

Stilgar is slightly confused. The concept of child bearing is not one that he has to be concerned with, as he, despite his older age, has not been married yet.

Something he admonishes himself for.

“There are many of us, but we could always expand. I have already suggested to the South that they could send some of their people here, if they would like to be.” Stilgar frowns. “So many Fremen in the south, densely packed, is an easy way to be attacked. We could spread out more.”

“Save your war-speak for later, Stilgar.” Ramallo tuts, and then sighs a long, languid sigh that has Stilgar feeling much younger than he really is. “I don’t mean simply bringing people here.”

He’s never sure what the Reverend Mother wants, but he always gives her his full attention. Something about staying in his faith for so long has kept him here, grounded, seated in front of Ramallo, ready to do what needs to be done. Not just for the Mahdi, as he is often teased about, but so he doesn’t lose himself.

“Please. Tell me.” He asks, kneeling his head down in a solemn movement, and Ramallo knows he’s ready for this.

“The youth of Sietch Tabr don’t believe in our faith anymore, do they?” Ramallo wraps a gnarled finger around her wrist, feeling a minor form of trepidation she is sure real Bene Gesserit have never felt. “They laugh when we speak of Lisan al Gaib.”

“They have not read the prophecy.” Stilgar swallows, unsure if he can really speak on this, when he regards himself as a humble follower. “They laugh because they do not believe in the Mahdi to free us.”

Stilgar thinks of his niece, Chani, who suggests that a Fremen could be the Mahdi. He knows this can’t be true, because he believes his people are fed-up— it should have happened by now if one of them was truly possessed with that capability.

“Sietch Tabr is too worldly now. I worry that if we lose our faith, we cannot usher in Lisan al Gaib as he should be, and our promise to freedom.” Ramallo fixes her cold, foggy pupils on Stilgar, the cloudy whites making the typical Fremen-blue appear more teal. He shivers at the idea.

“I want you, as Naib, our political leader, to take one of the Sayyadina as your wife. One of the lower priestesses.”

Stilgar nearly protests instantly, feeling embarrassed to even think of desecrating a Sayyadina like this, but the old Reverend Mother knows what he thinks of this.

“It would be a marriage between our religion and our people, a symbolic union. I believe our spirituality will be renewed.” Ramallo taps his hand. “I’m an old woman now. I cannot make as much as a difference as my younger sisters— and you and I both know it is written that we must keep bearing children.”

Stilgar swallows. He only vaguely knows of the Bene Gesserit, but he can guess Ramallo was deeply inspired by their way, marrying into families, keeping a physical bloodline going. The only thing that troubles him, is that he’s unsure of what this has to do with having children with a Sayyadina in particular.

“If you have children, especially with a Sayyadina, they are more likely to be faithful. Perhaps we cannot convert the others,” Ramallo grits her teeth. “But I believe we can start anew.”

Stilgar knows he cannot force himself on any of the Sayyadina. It’s bad enough that they cannot say no to the Reverend Mother’s command, especially with that shocking, unnerving Voice she uses, so he would much rather let one of them pick him. Yes, that’s what he’ll do— walk into the temple, and let them approach him.

He just hopes he’s not too old, too ugly, too entwined with his role as Naib. He wonders if that’s why women haven’t necessarily been interested in him— what with his constant vigilance to keep Sietch Tabr safe and with a good allocation of resources, which makes him rather unapproachable, not as dashing as a typical Feydakin.

He knows how Lady Jessica looked at him with reproach when he offered himself to her, to protect her and her son, Paul. Yes, even the name Paul suggests something more to him— he still thinks he could be Lisan al Gaib. But either way, Lady Jessica did not want to be connected to him like that— so Stilgar feels that he must admire how marriage exists in that intrinsic bond between two people, from afar.

On the other hand, he feels the slightest tinge of hope when he remembers that a Sayyadina would surely be impressed with his devotion. In fact, Stilgar feels a slight grin on his face, as he climbs down from his cliff, thinking of a veiled Fremen priestess, eyes of Ibad even bluer than his own, marking her commitment to the faith. Holy, but his, to see like no one else would, and to be devoutly loyal to.

Almost like a personal representation, an extension of their faith together. And suddenly Stilgar feels understanding to what the Reverend Mother said, as he walks through the night, back to his quarters, that there would be power in this.

You’re chewing on your bottom lip, knowing that it’s a needless thing to do— a waste of water, now, that a drop of blood has been drawn from where you have accidentally split your lip— and you can’t help yourself.

Reverend Mother Ramallo grasped you and your sisters’ hands during prayer this morning, and told you that Stilgar would choose one of you as his wife.

It’s a bit surprising. As a Sayyadina directly under a Reverend Mother, you simply expected to be on your own, until she died and one of you would have to take her place. Other Sayyadina marry, yes— but you’ve always studied under Ramallo and assumed that you would not have to.

You know the Bene Gesserit— as far away as they are to you— form alliances like this with men, and it’s an honourable thing, typically, to produce a child from a union and continue on a legacy of people. It’s with that line of thinking that you asked Ramallo if this is what you were meant to follow.

“Sahar.” Ramallo used your Sietch name, the one that is only known among your sisters for the most part, as most Sayyadina consider their Sietch name to be their sacred name. “Smarter than I sometimes give you credit for. Yes, like our fellow priestesses, we too can create children for the sacred purpose of replacement.”

You smiled, but Ramallo had a slightly weary look in her eyes.

“I don’t want you girls to forget the sacred duty. Continue the faith. Do not let others forget our long wait for the Lisan al Gaib. Pass this onto your children, if you have them.”

You nodded, and whispered a silent prayer that hopefully soon he would be found, and that in itself would be enough to push people.

So now you wait. You know Stilgar— you’ve conversed with him before, in lunch circles, at the deathstill. He was kind enough— he always bowed when he greeted you, and you liked that, liked that he acknowledged your importance in your role here, however small it may be to you. And he always had a careful, leaning inwards glance, where he would be intently listening to whatever you had to say, even if you simply wished him well and hoped that the Maker would bless him and his passage.

It also significantly helped that he was so handsome to look at, too. You’ve heard women murmur about their surprise on his lack of a wife, and how they’d be grateful to take him, if they got the chance. You don’t disagree– you know you’ve spent many a moment glancing too much at him.

But Stilgar seems intensely busy, and you do not be the one to pull him away from his duties. You have had the privilege of being unaware of fighting, of battles and duels, and now to be potentially married to him, it feels like you’ll simply not fit into his life.

And, on the other hand, as you glumly sit on your bedding, rolling a pebble on the stone floor, you think about how you’ve had little-to-no experience with men.

It’s not that it wasn’t allowed, you’ve always been preoccupied with your faith. With the Reverend Mother.

You know how Fremen men, especially warrior men like Stilgar would be. They have appetites— your fellow Sayyadina sister Nezua tells you about all her crazy endeavours, while you listen somewhat enviously. There’s a reason why Fremen men take so many wives.

Your stomach lurches a little at that. Although multiple wives are common, to continue to reproduce as efficiently as possible, you dislike the notion for some reason— but you feel selfish and wonder if it is because, as a priestess, you’ve had special treatment until now.

Nezua walks into your quarters, and taps your shoulder.

“Yes?”

“He’s outside.” She takes your hand. “Don’t worry, Sahar. I am sure he will not pick one of us— he will probably pick Ranira. She barely wants to be Sayyadina.”

“But isn’t that against the point?” You squeeze your hands together. “For a union between faith and people—”

“C’mon, Sahar. Don’t tell me you really believe that.” She rolls her eyes. “Whoever ends up being Stilgar’s wife will probably be in his house most of the time, ‘praying’, but really just dutifully waiting for him.”

“I suppose…” You don’t want to tell Nezua that she’s wrong. That Stilgar is more devout than she thinks, that he’s not a cheat looking for a free wife to use while pretending to care about the faith.

Stilgar has always come to the temple to pray, even when it is not necessary for a man of his standing to do so— as he often speaks of needing to continue his worship towards the Maker, the One God, and Ramallo is always pleased to let him in. She wouldn’t do that if he had some sort of ulterior motive, as other less honourable men have in the past.

It’s with a jolt that you realize you already care for him on some level. At the very least, you think highly of him.

Nezua pulls you up off your bedding, and you adjust your veil before going off into the main prayer hall with her.

Upon seeing the arrival of all six Sayyadina sisters— the current number of high priestesses directly under Ramallo— Stilgar pushes himself into a deep, reverent bow, and as he arises again, his gaze seems to linger on you before coming across your sisters.

You feel both excited to potentially be picked, and terrified to leave the temple where you have lived your whole life.

Stilgar can’t help but have his eyes drawn towards to you. Not just because you’re beautiful— you are, though, with the eyes of Ibad, deep blue pupils, a wise, judicial expression upon your face— and he wonders why.

Not out of disrespect, but Stilgar often sees the Sayyadina as being sort of withdrawn, within themselves, perhaps solemn in the religious vows they have taken. Even now, your sisters don’t meet his glance as often as you do.

Stilgar thinks you may be defiant. Maybe a troublemaker of sorts. His heart has a sudden thrill at the idea, but his mind knows this isn’t what’s necessary for this arrangement.

“Hello, sisters.” He smiles in a firm, thin line, meant to be placating to those around him. “I believe you know why I’m here. I hope this will not be an uncomfortable process for us all.”

He takes another look at you. No, you’re simply… you’re taking him in. And Stilgar decides that’s overall better than being defiant. Closer to the values of a leader, not even in just a spiritual way as the Reverend Mother had suggested to him.

You’re gauging his reactions, trying to read if he’s more of a rascal than he lets on— but he meets your previous idea of him, a reverent, kind man trying not to do harm, and your mouth settles into a assured, small smile.

Stilgar feels comforted, pleased even by your expression, and he knows he’s going to pick you.

”Sayyadina—” He points to you so there’s no confusion, and your sisters appear as neutral as they can, while you read micro-expressions of either relief or disappointment. “I would like to speak to you on this matter.”

You shuffle in silence as you leave with him to a different, quieter corridor, and as you turn and fix your veil, Nezua flashes a grin at you.

So your feelings were that obvious, you think.

Stilgar is a great deal taller than you. You have to peer upwards to really look at him, and you think he likes that— there’s a slight twinge in his eyes that makes you feel easily drawn to him.

“Why me, Naib?” You ask, and Stilgar stares at you for a moment longer, before tearing his eyes away to stare at the architecture of the temple.

“You have a knowing look in your eyes, Sayyadina.” He responds in turn to your use of Naib— a term denoting him as Leader of the Sietch. You use it so not to be overly familiar with him, but you understand you both respect each other.

“So you picked the most shrewd of us, is that it?” You wrinkle your nose in a slight laugh, but then actually grin as Stilgar laughs.

“One could call it shrewdness. I simply see that you are not afraid, you look for what you know you must find. Only great leaders make the approach.” He explains this so clearly, you were not even entirely aware that you were doing such a thing.

“It only makes sense to do so, Naib. I could not just stand there and allow you to do all the decision making.” You admit with tact, so not to drive him away.

He nods. “That is why you will be a great one.”

Stilgar seems comfortable with you already, and yet his expression takes a pained look for a moment.

“It's for that reason I do not want to force you into this… uh, arrangement.” He admits, and you are taken aback for just a moment, just a slight gasp.

“What makes you think I don’t want to be your wife?” You speak too soon, maybe too boldly but Stilgar likes that. Despite not even being betrothed yet, you are so forward with him, so ready to be claimed by him.

And he's just as willing a participant to be claimed by you, so he smiles, watching you turn a little flustered, but you let your feelings for him stay apparent for a moment.

It's not like there's room for privacy in a marriage, you think.

An arranged marriage, you admonish yourself. He’s here only in the most professional of terms. Don’t complicate this with your idiotic feelings, you still have a job to do.

“I just meant that– it would be an honour to be associated with you, Naib.” You keep your head tilted downwards, trying your best to be the reverent Sayyadina you’re known as.

“Of course.” He swallows, unsure if you’ve suddenly become shy, or that you’ve decided to be more cunning– something he admires anyways. He thinks not many women would actually be attracted to him, what of the mug he calls a face, and so he decides to just be glad that you’re willing to be with him.

“Okay, Sayyadina. If you’ll have me as your husband, then,” He grasps your hands in both of his, and he has the kindest look in his eyes, and you look back up at him, feelings simmering on the inside as you maintain a peaceful facade. “We will have our engagement arranged soon.”

Then, ever so gently, he pushes back a part of your veil, wanting to see your face better.

You visit him more often after that. Usually in the hall, where there are other people, and you do this so people don’t think you’re too in love with him already– visiting him secretly would only prove that, suggest some sort of affair of a human connotation.

By being around the others, people feel that things are coming into place– religion and leaders are creating a strong, united front that will lead the Fremen to peace. More believers for the Lisan Al Gaib. And you are glad to already be pushing people along the path that Ramallo set out for you.

Stilgar has a stronger look at you, now. Not just the polite glances of before. With every conversation, he takes you in, drawing more and more conclusions. And with every moment, he learns more about you, and he likes what he learns, too.

He sees that you like your food spicy, as does he. And you especially enjoy tabara– the soft sweet cake made of tabaroot, honey, and spice, rich and sweet in flavour, adorned with fruit. It’s a rarity in Arrakis, since a few of the fruit come from offworld traders– so he gives you his portion and you two argue over this, before Stilgar eventually puts his foot down as Naib.

“You should accept. Extra portions go towards those who need it, not me.” Stilgar says, ever the humble one as you’ve come to know him.

“Except this isn’t an extra portion, is it? Sayyadina aren’t supposed to indulge so much, leaders like you may deserve it as you do such hard work.” You taunt him, knowing that you’re both so similar– you could argue forever with Stilgar because you’re equally as willing to sacrifice things for each other.

Great leaders, indeed.

“Sayyadina, don’t make me remind you how important your creed is.” He tuts, and you find yourself simmering with attraction to him– you are beginning to look forward to these conversations more and more everyday. “Your work is just as important– don’t do a disservice to your life just for me, okay?”

The people around you shift in their spots on the floor, to listen more closely, and you recognize that although you and Stilgar grow closer– the intended effect is taking place. People are supportive either way.

Maybe you don’t have to be distant, overly religious, to win support. Maybe, like what Ramallo said, they need to see how spirituality can touch people, and how you’re just a person as well.

He places the piece of cake in your bowl again. “Accept it as a gift, Sayyadina.”

You smile up at him, squeeze his hand without thinking. “Okay, Naib. Thank you.”

Stilgar cannot stop thinking of you, even when he is training Usul to fight in the Fremen way.

He remembers your last meeting, a few weeks after your initial one– and then how you said in two days time, after your faithful prayer that the Shai-Hulud would allow your union to be peaceful, you could begin the engagement ceremony. And Stilgar focused on how serious you were– how holy this approach was, how you seemed to glow from within, with some otherworldly energy, and even now he could tell he was enamoured with you. With that strong gaze, eyebrows tensed and purposeful in their thought.

Usul– Paul, at this moment, with his lack of focus– cannot stop staring at Chani while she practices sparring with her friend.

“Usul. Usul.” Stilgar shakes his shoulder, and Paul finally tears his gaze away. “You’re too distracted, my friend.”

“I’m sorry, Stilgar.” Ever the charming, young lad, Paul smiles placatingly towards Stilgar, and even he is too struck by his charisma to avoid it. “I’m here. I’m ready.”

“Please, tell me what bothers you.” Stilgar knows, already, as Paul stares down at his hands, that the boy has eyes for his overly tenacious niece. “Is it a matter of the heart?”

“Yes.” Paul exhales. “It’s not important right now. How did you know?”

Stilgar smiles reproachfully. “I… I suppose I should tell you honestly, before the others get to know.”

It strikes Paul that the Fremen trust him so readily– even Chani, with her misgivings about the prophecy, seems to be swayed towards him, and he does not know if he enjoys the attention, the privilege this grants him. Again, he is struck with that terrible purpose– that he will use these people for his own benefit.

Stilgar interrupts his line of thought. “Soon, I am to be married to one of the priestesses.”

Paul grins. “Ah, Stilgar, you rogue. You’re distracted, too.”

“Yes.” Stilgar admits, and he thinks of you with your deep blue eyes, your careful-yet-understanding glance, and he longs to see you again. To get to know you better. Yes, Stilgar may not truly know you, but he feels he has been on your side this whole time. Every glance at the temple, every cursory conversation at the deathstill, it has all been building up to something– perhaps not what he had imagined it to be, but he would never consider himself unlucky for this, or that Ramallo could ever be wrong about her plans.

As Naib, though, he still has his duties, and he tuts and tells Paul to get back on it. And Paul, strong young man wanting to prove himself, uses his Bene Gesserit training to imbue a level of focus that no woman could possibly break.

The engagement ceremony day is finally here.

You're excited, yet nervous to be known as Stilgar's wife. It feels more real with every approaching moment– it’s not just a silly, girlish fantasy, it’s something that everyone will see and know as a tangible union.

You haven't got any time to see him– Stilgar has been away with other Feydakin, no doubt unleashing hell on Harkonnen troops– and so you wait for his return.

The first of many waiting periods, you know that. You always knew this was going to be more of a political marriage– more in meaning for Sietch Tabr than really having to be around each other.

But you miss him, anyways. You like him, and despite your attempts to focus on praying to the Maker that he will be okay, you search for him on the sandy horizon every minute of this auspicious morning, the sun blearing into your eyes.

“You know he hasn’t come this far without his own talent.” Nezua reminds you, as she watches you peer up, blinking in the sunlight. “He’s not Naib for no reason, Sahar.”

All priestesses– both low and high– and other religious Fremen crowd around the outskirts of Sietch Tabr, hidden under cliffs in order to stay in the shade. Yet you reach outwards to look at the sun, risking your sweat even as you know you’re supposed to reserve it.

Lady Jessica, part of the sacred mother-and-son duo from the outer world, watches you with a gaze you cannot place. You know it is not simple curiosity– there is something new and malicious in her stare that has only heightened after Stilgar had asked to be betrothed to you.

A sudden gust of wind blows sand around you two, and Nezua tightens her veil, firmly jutting her jaw in a way that tells you she must be right, that you worry about nothing.

Ten minutes later, after praying and hoping, Stilgar returns over the sunrise, victorious in battle, and you feel he looks exhausted– yet his face breaks into a smile when he sees you.

He is greeted by many Fremen, fellow family members, but Stilgar pushes them aside, making his way directly towards you.

And you let yourself be pulled upwards by him, as he grasps your hands.

There’s something sweet and endearing here– almost innocent in how he looks at you, as if he’s been waiting to see you again just as long as you have. But you quickly remind yourself that this moment is not just yours– it would be considered somewhat heartless by other Fremen if Stilgar did not appear to like you, and by extension, the whole marriage’s point would fail.

“Sayyadina–” He holds up the Water Rings, the metallic counters representing the volume of water a Fremen could release into the deathstill. Here, they mean that you will be tied to Stilgar, as you are now betrothed to him. “I ask you to be married to me, by nightfall.”

“So soon?” You ask, wondering why he would want to do it so early.

“It cannot wait much longer. Reverend Mother Ramallo is not well.” He tells you, and your heart sinks, wondering why your dear reverend mother has not told you about this.

You’ve seen the signs– she struggles with fine motor skills and often her cataracts make it difficult to see anything– but you are still surprised.

“Okay.” You swallow, and then smile up at him, and he squeezes your cheek in a fond gesture that makes you feel heat rise there.

“We will be wed tonight.” He calls out in Chakobsa, and the Fremen around you rally with glee, and you feel that whatever this is, even if Ramallo does not live to watch it play out– it’s working.

The unmarried women of the tribe fix your hair with the rings Stilgar presented to you, and you feel ever the part of the blushing bride. You know it’s not wrong to genuinely have feelings in this arrangement– you just hope Stilgar feels the same way.

Chani grins at you. You know her well– you’re around the same age, you’ve grown up somewhat together– and you wonder if she feels odd about her uncle marrying you.

“No, if it means I can call you Auntie, I’m happy.” She jokes, and you shove her as she laughs.

Chani rarely laughs like this as of late. She’s always so hard on herself– she thinks she has to be because of how indoctrinated so many Fremen are to the faith. And despite your life as a Sayyadina, Chani has never let your conflicting beliefs stop her love for you.

You only wish she’d be more careful as a warrior. As a freedom fighter, Chani sometimes lacks restraint– so you’re grateful to see her happy.

“Well, maybe some day you’ll be married, too.” You squeeze her hand. “To a great warrior.”

“I don’t know, Biet.” Chani calls you your Fremen name, not your Sietch one, which will be used tonight at the wedding. “Let us focus on you for now.”

“I just… I don’t know if he feels the way I do.” You suddenly admit, and the fear that you’re still going to be lonely crops up.

Chani shakes her head, that hard, tough scowl on her face back again. “If there’s one thing I know about my uncle, it’s that he’s not an idiot.”

She presses her cheek to yours. “Don’t you understand how important you are, Biet? How special you are, not just to me and everyone here, but to him especially. Stilgar has not stopped speaking of you for the last couple of weeks.”

You smile softly at that, thinking of how ardently Stilgar looks at you now, how you’ve gotten to know each other over the last few weeks of basic conversation. More close than ever, and yet just far enough that you keep wondering. Is it admiration, gratitude that you’re willing to serve a greater purpose, or something more? You know it’s selfish, but you want him to like you. To love you.

“Everybody knows, even Muad’Dib.”

At the mention of Muad’Dib, you can’t ignore the slight tension in your spine. Both you and Stilgar have discussed your belief in his abilities, his potential to be the one– but you know that Chani does not share that.

Still, you hear a slight shift in Chani’s tone as she says his name, and you give her a glance.

“You like him, I think.” You tease, and she tells you to shut up in Chakobsa.

You wonder if Muad’Dib was the one who shared this information to his mother, which would make her dislike of you understandable. You get the sense she’s power-hungry, terrifying– she would’ve been a greater candidate for this marriage, an otherworldly mother that fits the prophecy, representing not just the union of politics and religion, but with the power of the Bene Gesserit– and you find that you resist her, anyways. Resist the idea that everything must be for this one purpose.

You want to keep Stilgar to yourself, and it almost frightens you that you might be going against something that you’ve been taught to believe from a young age.

You’re no Chani.

The dark of the night spreads across Arrakis.

Stilgar begins the trek up the dune, where you wait, bathed in the moonlight– you’re wearing a different outfit, a dress with intricate beading marking your place as a bride, and instead of a veil, you are wearing a much thinner, transparent shawl that allows Stilgar to make out your silhouette. Your hair is interwoven with his Water Rings.

Stilgar has always known you are beautiful, but especially now of all times, with your blue eyes reflecting him in the silver moonlight as he meets you at the top of the hill– and it’s not a distraction, because he’s meant to be here with you.

He likes you a lot– there’s a taut feeling in his throat, as he realizes he’s watched countless friends and family members get married, but never thought of himself as one of them– and in the past, Stilgar had always felt there was something wrong with him for not marrying sooner. But now, he’s so thankful he waited, because it’s you. His holy, veiled priestess.

You share his faith, after all– but over the last few weeks he’s seen that you share his judgement, too. He only hopes that his feelings will be returned some day and that he won’t scare you off– Stilgar knows he can sometimes be too much.

Reverend Mother Ramallo approaches you two from the other side of the dune. She speaks in Ancient Chakobsa– old marriage passages from the faith, hymns that are sacred in their meaning– and the unmarried women below, begin their chanting and agreement with the hymns. They dance.

Then, Ramallo asks Stilgar in Chakobsa, if he is willing to take care of you, to entirely claim you in every way as the Fremen faith dictates– to not leave you behind. You know she cares for you so deeply, as she’s watched you grow up from a young girl, and you hear a slight twitch in her voice, giving her away as someone who will miss you.

Stilgar responds without hesitation that yes, he will always be there for you. And you believe him. You don’t hear a hint of irony or lying in his tone.

Maybe this isn’t just a marriage of political nature.

Ramallo yells in Chakobsa, using the Voice: “It is finished!”

Celebrations are loud, jovial, necessary after the Fremen endured hardship from the Harkonnen. People are dancing, eating, congratulating you.

You’re happy to receive their blessings, and give them back if they wish to hear it from you. You’re still a Sayyadina, and today of all days, you bring especially good luck to them.

Paul Atreides walks forward after Nezua dips– she’s kissed you on your cheek and solemnly stated she’ll miss you at the temple bedrooms– and you’re intrigued, as you’ve never spoken to him before.

“Muad’dib!” Stilgar is next to you, and he shakes his hands, clapping his shoulder, and Paul hugs him.

“Stilgar, Biet–” Paul’s eyes cross towards you, and you don’t sense the same plotting look his mother has. “Congratulations. It’s so interesting to witness a Fremen marriage. I feel like I’ve learned so much just watching. I did not know Sayyadina could use the Voice, as well. Impressive.”

You think he’s rather compassionate, but there’s no telling if it’s an act. You ignore that– you’re meant to be happy now.

“Thank you.” You gently squeeze his hand. “I don’t use it often– I believe it should necessitate a purpose.”

“As do I.” Paul agrees, and you are blown away by how casually he reveals that he can use it. Another sign, perhaps, that he is who you and Stilgar think he is.

“In coming times, maybe you too will marry in our way.” You make as an offhand comment, so not to overtly reveal your surprise.

Paul is mildly surprised by this, but he doesn’t look displeased with that. “Maybe. I think many women here are quite beautiful, they could probably pick a noble Feydakin than someone like me.”

“In time, Muad’dib, you may be a Feydakin too. You have the strength to be one.” Stilgar corrects him, and you like that your husband is so forthcoming, a true mentor that supports everyone.

“Besides, you’ll need to be one if you want to impress Chani.” You input, and Stilgar looks a little taken aback by this development, while Paul looks more interested.

“Really? You think Chani and I…” Paul swallows down whatever he’s going to say, looking suddenly a bit darker and worried. “I would be lucky if she considered me.”

Paul bids you two goodbye, while Stilgar laughs. “A humble one, isn’t he?”

“Better that than overly boastful.” You hum. “Either way, I hope he is not perpetuating a false image.”

Stilgar agrees.

As the party dies down, he takes your hand, and together, you walk back to Stilgar’s quarters.

He’s rather quiet as he sits on his bedding, cracking his knuckles.

Stilgar is not afraid of you, exactly– he’s afraid of what your relationship should or should not be. He does not know the boundaries in which you two operate, and he’s afraid once he opens that conversation up, of your potential rejection.

Other men would tell him that as your wife, there should be no confusion– that he should be able to bridge the gap, and you would accept it, no questions asked.

But Stilgar had not come this far by simply guessing at things. He knows as Naib, the general context you two have– and he needs to know if you feel the same way, if you don’t just want this marriage to be symbolic in nature.

“Sayyadina,” He calls you, and you sit next to him on his bedding, staying a short distance away, just for respect.

You laugh at that internally. You’re his wife, and you still call on some level of respect. Maybe because you’re afraid of acting on these feelings you have– a hunger for closeness– and you would rather use the excuse of respect instead of pushing him towards you.

Stilgar says Sayyadina with fondness in his tone, though. A formal, spiritual term has never sounded more husky, more inappropriately close than ever– you let yourself hope.

“I’ll ask you this once, and make your answer clear, so I do not bother you otherwise.” Stilgar pauses, wanting to be sensitive about this subject. He doesn’t know exactly what you’re comfortable with. “I want to know if you want to be more than wife in name, or if your heart is drawn to being within your faith.”

“Who says I can’t be both, Stilgar?” You bite your lip, and Stilgar’s face stiffens. “There’s nothing in our faith that says a priestess can’t have both.”

“That’s not what I meant.” He pauses, grappling with what to say.

“I don’t want to be a burden to you.” He says, and you laugh, for real this time, a louder laugh than he’s heard before, and he grins, liking the twinkling sound of it, but then frowns. “I’m being serious. You should not have to lie with me just for everyone else’s benefit. The marriage has brought people to greater spirits, already.”

“What if it’s for my benefit?” You speak in a hushed tone, but Stilgar listens to every word, inching closer to you. “What if I feel more spiritual when I’m next to you? I feel the Maker’s way flow through me whenever we speak, I feel like I can understand and interpret so much more because I know we are supposed to be with each other, not just metaphorically, but in all ways.”

Stilgar is taken aback by your boldness, and so are you to some degree, but you continue. “I’ve been ignoring this the last few weeks, but I think that’s what love is. What is faith without love? I think I love you, because you make me understand what I’ve been missing…” You smile up at him. “You’re my greater context, Stilgar.”

Ah, He thinks. This woman is too sweet to me. She understands.

“Sayyadina…” He sighs, a deep shuddering sigh revealing so much emotion; relief, really. You’ve never seen Stilgar like this, but it gives you a sense of how much he represses. “You feel like the missing piece I’ve been waiting for. You… you don’t know how long I’ve been waiting for a woman that understands me.”

“I never thought I could have the chance to love anyone,” He admits with some reservation. “My appearance tends to ward women away.”

“But you’re beautiful.” You whisper, smiling up at him, and Stilgar feels your hands trace around his face, and he closes his eyes, listening to the sweetness of your voice. “You’re only intimidating because of who you are, Stilgar, but I promise, you’re beautiful. I’m not the only woman who thinks that.”

Before he can respond in turn, that you’re more beautiful than him, the stubbornness that you two share– you let that unspoken urge inside you, the one you’ve never acted on before, overtake you. And you pull his face downwards in a searing kiss, one where he can still taste the spice on your lips after what you ingested at your wedding dinner.

He honestly has not touched a woman in years– not out of some purposeful celibacy, but more because he has been so focused on maintaining Sietch Tabr. And whatever memories he has of that time, right now is easily trumping them.

You part your lips as Stilgar does, kissing him with abandon, again and again as your lips move with his, and he squeezes your waist before pulling you onto his lap.

He groans. There’s a hard bulge in his pants that you’re sitting squarely upon, you know what that is– you’re not entirely uncultured about this.

You experimentally roll your hips over his crotch, finding a sudden pleasure in your lower half as you do so, and he stutters, suddenly, pulling your face away from his, breaking the kiss.

“Sayyadina– wait, slow down.” He holds your wrists in his hands firmly, the heat of the moment causing both of you to sweat. The night air seeps through Stilgar’s window– hot and humid.

You’ve never wanted to be closer to him.

“I’m a little inexperienced. I don’t want to hurt you.” He explains, and you scoff.

“So am I.” You tell him. “Actually, I’ve never…”

“Oh.” Stilgar takes on a very judicial look, one that you’re determined to stop before he rejects you for the “greater good” or something like that. “I would’ve never guessed that. You gave me the impression of expertise.”

“Then let me gain it.” You proclaim, and you cut him off before he says what you know he will. “You’re not forcing me into anything. I want to do this, just like I wanted to marry you.”

He scoffs, now, but Stilgar likes the sound of that and he kisses you again, pulling your shawl off, feeling you wrap around his torso with your legs– he feels you moan and shudder when he squeezes your thighs. He loves this, and when he starts removing your dress– you don’t stop him.

He pulls it down and under you, and you’re bare underneath. Stilgar examines your breasts with admiration– they’re the perfect size, they fit you well– and he immediately takes to one of your nipples with his teeth, causing you to cry out.

As he continues these bites over your chest, squeezing your breasts and your behind, suckling on your neck, feeding off of your sweat, you feel yourself slicken, wetness catching on Stilgar’s pants– so much quicker than you’re used to, when you used to touch yourself in your room at the temple. A waste of water, maybe, but it was worth the relief occasionally.

Stilgar notices, and he wordlessly lays you across his bed, spreading your legs open, looking down at your pussy.

You’re not completely sure what he’s doing, and you feel slightly vulnerable like this– entirely on display for him.

“Let me drink from you, Sayyadina. I would be honoured by this blessing– I thirst, and it would not be a waste.” He says in hushed tones, as he kneels in front of you, and you feel yourself slicken more if that’s possible. The sacred overtones of worship are not lost on you, practically becoming a kink for you as he speaks.

You nod, and he grasps your thighs tightly, practically pushing down on them so you’ll stay with open legs for him– he strokes them a few times, and then dives in with his tongue, lapping and licking slowly upwards to your clitoris, then quickly a few times to taste you faster, which causes you to seize as feelings of warmth and white-hot sensitivity overtake you, and with your fluids, and his saliva, you’re quickly reaching the point of finishing. His beard tickles, and you squirm a little, and start writhing and sweating, moans ebbing out of your throat, but that only makes Stilgar pull you in closer, tighter, pushing his tongue closer, almost inside, refusing your escape.

You don’t want that, anyways. And you finish in his mouth with a flourish as Stilgar laps up what you’ve given him– a drink from a Sayyadina.

You think he’s done, but you lean back with another sigh– a near scream, really– as Stilgar begins to lick at your clitoris, suckling on it, until you’re wet and aching again– and then he uses his fingers to spread your pussy open, and begins to fuck you with his tongue. It’s amazing, wet and writhing and and filthy– it feels nothing like your own fingers and entirely more adept at getting you to another orgasm. The speed at which his tongue languishes inside you should be considered unholy, all things considered– but you feel high, you feel like you’re closer to the Maker than ever– and he suckles at you, his lips closing around your entrance as you moan again and orgasm directly into his mouth.

Stilgar groans. He’s in love with your taste– he thinks he might wake you up every morning like this, if you’ll let him. He’s also painfully hard now– his cock strains against his pants, and he quickly starts undressing.

“Sorry. I needed a second taste.” Stilgar apologizes, standing up, but he’s not sheepish about anything as he continues to rub you, to stroke your pussy to keep you wet. Up, down, up, down, Stilgar could get addicted to this sensation around his fingers– you’re so warm, soft, wet– he needs to be in you.

You’re beginning to feel overstimulated– you’re covered in sweat, and in between your thighs you’re soaked, practically dripping all over Stilgar’s hand as he continues to work you– and you twitch as you sit up, Stilgar’s fingers prodding inside you.

His cock bobs upwards, shiny with pre-cum, and the tip, hard and redder, while the rest is a flattering tan brown. Although this is your first time viewing the male genitalia, you’re drawn to it. You like how he looks partially naked– vulnerable like you, but warmer, soft and hard in different places– and you reach to take his shirt off, letting his full self be unsheathed.

And you like this– you feel an animalistic draw to his body, his chest hair, the broad muscles under them, and he moans loudly when your finger prods at the tip of his cock. Stilgar lifts you up, wrapping your legs around his waist, and spreads your ass, his cock nudging inside your pussy slowly, groaning as it does, gritting his teeth as every centimetre feels like another added pleasure of wetness, the bounds of which he does not know, but he is excited to be familiar with and do this again and again.

You sink around him easily– you moan against his neck as you do– and Stilgar bottoms out, feeling you grip and tighten around him.

After what feels like an eternity– both of you drunk on just being intertwined in such a way– he lifts you up again, thrusting outwards, and then back in, pushing you down on his cock, slamming into you. Stilgar’s warrior strength comes into play here– he fucks you relentlessly, and grips you so tightly you think you might be melting onto him. He begins to pound into you, your ass and thighs jiggling with the force of it all, and a severely perverted squelching and slapping sound builds up over time, over and over, his thighs and balls slapping against your thighs and ass, the sound of which you are sure is extremely loud.

You don’t care. You moan loudly, almost yelling as Stilgar’s cock twitches and catches inside you in a place so deep, you’ve never touched it yourself.

You shake and twitch, barely holding onto him as you do, feeling an immense pressure build inside you, almost painfully, but with pleasure. Stilgar claims your mouth as he thrusts, kissing you, slipping his tongue inside as he drinks from you there– and he loves feeling you moan against his mouth as he does so.

He presses you against him tightly, rutting upwards, and then together he tips the both of you onto his bed again, him on top of you, this time using his fingers to play with your clitoris as you clench around his thrusting. You cum again, this time your fluids adding to Stilgar’s pleasure, and you moan as Stilgar’s hands tighten around your waist. The slap of his skin against yours is laden with sweat and your cum, but Stilgar is insatiable, and he thrusts harder.

You feel him inhale, moan, bite at your neck, and you feel his cock twitch again as he cums inside you, pulling out in a hazy stream, and you writhe against him, feeling the heat of the moment conjoining with the cooler air of the night.

He sighs, satisfied with what has happened, lying down next to you. “May Shai-Hulud allow us to do this again.”

Stilgar has to leave again, the next morning, as more Fremen are involved in fighting Harkonnen harvesters, and he wants to oversee this.

“I’m sorry, Sayyadina…” He swallows. He doesn’t want to leave you behind– if he could take you along on his back, he would.

“Sahar.” You tell him.

“What was that?” He asks, and you wrap your arms around him and his stillsuit, dressed in your traditional Sayyadina dressings again.

“Sahar is my Sietch name. My sacred name, only for my sisters to know.” You explain, although you’re sure Stilgar knows this. He only knows your Fremen name, after all. “Since we’re married– I thought you should know my true name.”

“Sahar is a wonderful name… meaning morning.” Stilgar looks out the window with a slight smile. “But you outdo any of Arrakis’ sunrises, my dear.”

You laugh at that, as Stilgar knew you would.

“You will still be Sayyadina to me, no matter what name you have.” He says, and there’s a warm feeling in your heart when you hear this, that he has a special name for you. You take his hands, and press your palm to his forehead.

“Oh Shai-Hulud… keep Stilgar safe from unwarranted danger today.” You whisper in Chakobsa, closing your eyes, and Stilgar closes his eyes too. “Do not risk his life.”

Your harsh, suddenly grating tone from using the Voice has Stilgar opening his eyes again. He has never heard you use it before.

“Thank you.” He pulls you up for a soft, parting kiss– and then after memories of last night echo inside his mind– he gives you a firmer, lingering kiss, laden with love for you.

Stilgar finds that despite his obvious devotion in his commitment to you– the women are more interested in him than ever.

And if he was a lesser man, perhaps he would act on this. But Stilgar has not forgotten the plan, and he certainly hasn’t forgotten you, not so soon. He knows you two are two sides of the same coin– meant to be.

This was not meant to be an outcome. He sees Feydakin women smiling at him, maybe a little too much– or maybe he has not noticed until now.

You said he was beautiful, and he had thought maybe that was just according to you. But seeing how Lady Jessica greets him, not impolitely but just with more… vulnerability, especially after her duke was killed, he thinks maybe you’re right. Maybe he has something.

Jessica stares at the deathstill, trembling over what Stilgar has told her. She must drink the Water of Life, she must take the place of a Reverend Mother– and she does not want this. She wants nothing more than to be comforted at this moment, because of what a tribulation this new order shall be on her.

Or at least, that’s the image she’s conveying, she hopes, and she believes she has Stilgar wrapped around her finger, her coying, Bene Gesserit way meant to coax people closer to her, and by extension, her wishes.

And Jessica can tell she’s done it right when Stilgar leans over, wipes away her tear, and licks it. Perhaps she can secure more support through playing the part of a sad widow.

It’s Nezua who saw what happened.

She interrupts your prayer, your first prayer after returning to the temple, sanctimonious as it is.

“Sahar, please don’t be upset. Just hear me out.” She pulls you into the main hall, where your sisters and Ramallo are reading ancient texts.

“What is it? What’s happened?” You look around wildly.

Nezua’s deep blue eyes blink, as she wonders what to tell you, how to say it gracefully.

“I saw him. Naib. Standing close to that woman, to Lady Jessica– she cried about becoming a Reverend Mother– he stroked her face, licking a tear away.” Nezua admits, and you instantly blink back sudden tears.

“But he–”

“Men can be rascals, Sahar.” Nezua reprimands you, and you swallow, knowing you don’t know as much as her.

You do know about Jessica, though.

“She has been eyeing him for a while… I’ve watched it happen. She’s got her Bene Gesserit tactics, we know that. She wants to be a Mother, no matter what farce she applies in this moment to gain approval.” You shake your head. “He wouldn’t do that for no reason– she’s very convincing. And Stilgar supports everyone, why would he doubt her?”

Nezua calms down a bit.

“But if he wanted to marry her?” Ramallo suddenly chimes in, and you and your sisters watch as she speaks, suddenly convinced of something. “Would it not be the ultimate culmination of what we seek? The mother of the Lisan Al Gaib, integrated into our society… nothing could compare to how many Fremen this would convert. How many people would choose our way.”

“Great Mother, you picked me for that purpose.” You speak up, almost immediately, without fear. You don’t care if you’re speaking out of turn– you do not want to share Stilgar, lose him to some other woman– and here it seems everyone else is okay with it.

“Yes, and you’ve done well, but you of all people should want us to do better.” She remarks, not without a bit of bite in her tone. You hate that it has to be this way, that you stand in the way of something you used to wholeheartedly believe.

Just this once, you want to be selfish. You have faith that Paul will be Lisan Al Gaib, anyways, so why can’t it just be you and Stilgar?

“Once Jessica drinks the Water of Life, she will be a powerful Reverend Mother– all of Arrakis may be swayed by her.” Ramallo peers at your expression. “Don’t tell me you feel something as foolish as love, Sahar.”

“And if I do?” You state, blatantly.

“Then you must be loving enough to see that this would improve Stilgar’s life by far. Men may take multiple wives, you know that.” Ramallo tuts. “Perhaps you’re not as clever as I once thought.”

“He won’t do it. He knows that his love helps me, and as long as that’s in his priorities…” Your voice dies down, feeling like everything is falling apart as you speak.

“Yes, and how long will he care for a lower priestess when he can have a Reverend Mother? Especially one as faithful as him.” Ramallo shakes her head at your ignorance.

“Shut up! You’ve never felt love, you unspeakable witch–” You scream in Chakobsa, using the Voice, the full power of which seems to shake the temple.

Ramallo slaps you, hard enough that you fall back against the floor. Your skin hums with the stinging feel of a new bruise, sure to make it’s mark on your cheek– and she hisses at you.

“Insolent child. It was I that brought you here. It was I that even gave you the chance to be with Naib Stilgar. He would have never looked at you otherwise.” She mutters, and you feel your eyes glisten with tears.

She and your sisters leave, and you hold your breath, trying not to cry. Nezua strokes your arm.

“Perhaps, if he marries Jessica, it will only be a marriage in name.” She tries, but you shake your head. “You would be the one he really loves, Sahar.”

“Or I would be like a concubine– there to produce children, nothing more.” You think of how quickly you leapt into Stilgar’s waiting arms yesterday, and wonder if you were wrong. If his only intent was to have someone he could fuck on a ready basis.

You shake your head. “I need to speak to him.”

You sit on the ground of his quarters, stating a small prayer to stay calm, and when Stilgar walks in, he sounds pleased to see you.

“Sayyadina, I did not expect you back so soon.” He touches your hand, but based on how you draw yourself back, he knows something is wrong. “What is it?”

“You want Jessica. Right? To be your wife?” You say, and he shakes his head.

“We discussed it once–” and your stomach drops at that. “But it would have only been a marriage of convenience to protect her, long ago. Nothing more.”

“Then what happened today, in the deathstill?” You ask, and Stilgar furrows his brows.

“I only relayed Ramallo’s message to her. And she was a bit sad, so I comforted her, that’s all. She almost wasted some water by crying, so I drank it.” Stilgar sits down on the ground next to you. “I promise you, I do not want her.”

“Even if she’s a reverend mother? Closer to your faith? Easier to perpetuate our–” Here you stutter. “The mission?”

“Whoa, whoa.” He softens visibly. “Sayyadina, if you cannot see now that I love you, tell me how to right that wrong.”

“Tell me why you believe you’ll stick with me–” You tear up again and wipe it away. “Tell me you won’t leave me.”

“I have no interest in Jessica– she is a conniving one, but whatever she thinks may happen, it will not.” He shrugs. “I don’t believe she loves me or wants me in that way, either– she still mourns her duke.”

Of course, you think. She might have only been staring at me that one time because she remembered when she used to be in love. Maybe she was even jealous… Jessica was a concubine.

You suddenly feel much more at peace. You don’t think you would’ve ever left Stilgar even if he had married Jessica– but you’re suddenly more understanding of her pain, to be the one not known in any collected record despite being loved.

“I only did anything I could to make her feel more comfortable with her new role.” Stilgar grins. “And if she succeeds– the faith will have more people interested in it, and there will be less pressure on us.”

“That’s true.” You finally tear your gaze from the floor to look at him, and he smiles at you before frowning at the bruise on your cheek.

“What’s this?” Stilgar gently touches you, and he gets angry hearing you hiss.

“Nothing, just a silly altercation.” You explain, but he’s not satisfied with that.

“With who?”

“Ah… Ramallo slapped me after I said she would never understand love.” Suddenly you’re ashamed, and you feel as if Stilgar would be disappointed in you. “She said the best thing would be if you married Jessica– and I guess I… I didn’t want to lose you, so I used the Voice on her.” “You did?” Stilgar raises his eyebrows, in surprise that you’d do such a thing, make a rash judgement like that against your elder. “I’m sorry you’re hurt.”

You lean into his touch, feeling better that he’s not angry at you.

“But I am sorry I wasn’t there to see you take ownership of me.” He laughs quietly. “You really love me that much? Then I’m only yours.”

You smile so hard at that– massive relief flowing through your nerves– and Stilgar kisses your bruise, before kissing your lips and making you feel whole again.

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austinbutlerslovers · 2 months

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Upcoming Fic Poll

#feyd rautha smut #feyd rautha x you #feyd rautha x #feyd rautha x reader #feyd rautha harkonnen #feyd x you #feyd x reader #Feyd x Chani #Feyd x #austin butler #austin butler fanfiction #austin butler smut #austinbutler #austin butler x reader #fanfic #smut #austin butler smut fic #austin butler x fem!reader #austin butler fic

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headintheclouds-posts · 1 year

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Hey, if your requests are still open, could you please do a sf9 reaction where they are out with some friends and with them there's also a friend of friends which is the reader and they never met before but they don't know the boys are famous and so they treat them as normal people?

Hello Lovely <3 I hope this is what you wanted xx

SF9 Reaction: When you don't know them

Youngbin meets you through friends at a small get together. You begin chatting and he realises how much you both have in common. When you ask him what he does for a living he finds himself smiling and awkwardly looking at his feet. He finds it incredibly cute that you don't recognise him and tells you he works in music management, not really wanting to give himself away. As you spend more time talking together, he eventually asks for your number and invites you on a date where he plans to open up more about his job.

When you both meet at a birthday dinner for a mutual friend, he finds himself inwardly laughing when you ask for his name upon being seated next to him. He can't help but feel drawn to you and keeps dropping not so subtle hints as to who he is. Eventually your friend pulls you to one side and pulls up Inseong's details on the internet to save you from further embarrassment as you were the only clueless one at the table. You find yourself apologising several times and telling him you enjoy his music. A few days later he builds up the courage to ask the friend for your number as he can't seem to get you out of his mind.

Jaeyoon can tell by the look on your face when you're introduced to each other that you have no idea who he is, so he ends up deciding to run with it. He is the type to make up an elaborate story about being a lion tamer or racing car driver and enjoy the cute/shocked look on your face. He finds you so innocent and adorable that he can't keep himself away from you. Eventually when someone else joins the conversation and asks him about his groups comeback, it eventually clicks in your mind who he is. You apologise profusely and he just waves it off as nothing. Definitely will ask if you want to make it up to him though by allowing him to take you out and how could you say no to that face.

You reach out to shake his hand and ask for his name after being introduced and his eyes grow to be the size of saucers. Dawon will laugh at first thinking its a joke but eventually will realise you're being serious. Ends up taking you by the hand to the nearest table and passing you a headphone before putting the other in his ear. Makes you listen to several songs and feels proud when you recognise some. Tells you that you need to meet up regularly for more SF9 lessons, but really just wants to spend more time with you.

Zuho's group means everything to him and he is so proud to be apart of it. When the two of you meet for the first time, he is shocked when you don't know who he is. He seems like he would take it quite personally so you end up in a long discussion about SF9's discovery and you can't help but smile and how cute and passionate he is when he explains it all to you. He continues to discuss it whilst walking you home and the only way to stop him from talking is to kiss him.

Everyone's eyes are on him when he enters his friends open day party for their new clothing store. You see alot of people taking pictures and asking for autographs. You however slink into the corner having no idea who he is and racking for brain for ideas. Your friend would introduce you both and you find yourself asking what he does for a living...best to be upfront instead of pretending to know. You see his eyes widen a little before a smile settles on his face. Once he explains who he is, he realises that you haven't gone into a fan girl moment like alot of people do upon meeting him. Spends the rest of the evening hovering around you and finding himself jealous when another man approaches you. After you break away from others to get yourself a drink, he would be super open and ask you out on a date.

Taeyang is another one who would be open about his career when you first meet. He isn't too shocked you don't recognise him but he definitely uses the opportunity to get to know you more whilst explaining about himself. By the end of the night you are both entrapped in a discussion about music, movies and the meaning of life. His softness and warmth makes you feel a sense of comfort you didn't know existed. It will be you who makes the first move by passing him your number and kissing him on the cheek before quickly leaving the venue. Safe to say you already have your next several dates planned together.

Hwiyoung would enter your friends birthday party looking all cool and dripping with confidence. Confidence which is knocked when you ask for his name. He can't work out whether your joking or being serious so would just stare at you blinking waiting for you to waiver. Eventually once he has gotten over the small shock he explains who he is and can't help but feel butterflies in his stomach when you recognise their newest song. Hints heavily about you coming to a concert they were having and takes your number to send you the details, whilst secretly planning to ask the group on how he can ask you out properly.

Nothing really fazes Chani so he's not in complete shock when you don't recognise him at an art show held by your friend. He can come off as quite distant and you're not quite sure why at first. Chani would be quite happy to let you talk and get to know you better before dropping the bomb that he's a famous singer and actor. Would awkwardly ask you out and pass you his number before turning on his heel and leaving you stood there dumbfounded.

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badgyalshii · 2 months

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Is it wrong if i ask for more paul x chani x y/n threesomes😕

#paul atredies smut #chani x reader #THREEWAYYYY

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divinefireangel · 1 year

Note

Writer I'm lowkey sorry for requesting such filth 🫂 but may I get a reaction where their shy s/o is quiet /shy to moan in bed.,. But they want them to kinda force it out of them,,, like they want to be corrupted by them please🙏Thank you❣️ keep up the wonderful works 🫂❤🏃‍♀️🏃‍♀️🏃‍♀️🏃‍♀️🏃‍♀️

👀 Oo I don't mind XD

Corruption Kink with SF9

Warnings: Smut. Dirty talk. Filthy talk. Mention of multiple orgasms. Corruption kink (duh). Dom!SF9 x F! Bodied Reader. Begging. Strength kink (I have a thing for Sanghyuk's biceps 😭). Oral (f receiving). Unprotected sex (sry) (YB). Wall sex (RW). Shower sex (HY). Fingering (JY). Praise kink. Degradation kink (mildly). Choking. Mention of creampie. Pussy pleaser Zuho agenda. Voyeurism (implied).

Nice lol *after seeing the warnings*

Youngbin

Running his hand down your torso, grazing your nipple, Youngbin tries to soothe the pain a little. Resting his hand on your waist, he leans down, kissing your lips sweetly before pushing his length in you completely. Swallowing your gasp, he starts to peck down your neck.

"Fuck babe. You so tight. So good to me. So perfect." He says reassuringly, distracting you till you tell him he can move. Pulling out a bit he starts fucking you deeply. "Come on baby. Makes those pretty sounds for me. You know how much I love them" he urged you with each thrust.

Shyly, you closed your eyes to fully feel how well he fills you up. Naturally the oversensitivity from the previous orgasm was adding to the pleasure. "Bin! " you gasped when his thumb applied pressure on your clit.

"There we go" he smirked, continuing to fuck you meticulously. Tightening your knees around his hips you squealed whenever he found your spot. The squeals only got louder as you neared your second orgasm of the night. "Tell me how good you feel"

"So good" you breathed out repeatedly [pulling him closer as you came around him, moaning softly as you breath sharply, coming down from your high and helping him reach his.

Inseong

Locking his phone and throwing it to the side of the couch, you straddle this poor confused man. Sighing sharply you try to bring up the courage to ask him to fuck you. But fuck.... How could you? You're his perfect little babygirl, his obedient baby who doesn't behave like a bad girl.

"Earth to Y/N! What's wrong baby? Wanted my attention? " he asks with a teasing tone that makes you wanna hide in his chest. Muttering nothings you try to hide away in the crook of his neck only to be stopped by his right hand wrapping around your throat, the effect of this action going right to your core. Gasping for air, your eyes grow darker than they already were and your toes curl.

"Has it really been that long since I fucked you stupid? Is that why you wanted my attention?" His other hand rubs your butt cheek, groping the flesh till you soak through your panties. You start to hum in protest but are stopped by his index fingers over your lips, shushing you. Biting his lower lip, he waits till your tongue darts out to kick his finger.

"I didn't expect you to become so forward with me so soon baby. I am proud but I can't let this slide. What if you disturb me for attention when I'm busy or with the members? Can't have that can we? Maybe I'll just fuck you with my fingers that you like to suck so much. Will that be enough? Or do you want me to shut you up with my cock? " His whispered words make you blush and clench around air while he fucks your mouth with his hand.

He pulls his fingers out of your mouth, a string of saliva joining your tongue and his fingertips. Using his free hand he opens your pants and panties just enough to let his hand slide in till your clit. Raising his eyebrows in approval at how wet you are, he draws patterns on your clit.

You grab his shoulders for support, closing your eyes and moaning his name softly. He connects your lips at the moment his finger penetrates your hole, making your eyes roll back in your head. Pulling away from the kiss you cry out, begging for more.

"Aw, crying already? I haven't even started properly baby. I'm gonna push you to your limit today. It's been real long since I fucked you full right? "

Jaeyoon

"Fuck can I just rip it open? " you ask breathily, struggling to remove the buttons of his shirt, desperately wanting to feel his body on yours.

"I don't know, can you? " he smirks pulling down the shoulder straps of your dress, pooling it on the floor.

Grabbing your wrists from his chest, he loops them around his neck and feels your body from your shoulders, down your back, unhooking your bra in the flow, and finally stopping when he reaches the back of your thighs.

Pecking your lips, he lifts you up and walks over to the bed, softly placing you on the center of the mattress.

"Since my shirt is annoying you so much, I'll just... " grabbing the collar of his shirt, he rips the annoying cloth open using his strength. Gasping softly, you feel his well built torso, marveling over how perfect he is. Your man is just so hot beyond imagination.

He leans down to kiss your lips for a moment before moving down towards your core, ensuring to make you squeal by shamelessly licking your boobs, nipples hardening when released.

"So pretty for me, so perfect... " he trails off, kissing your clit over your panties. Hooking his index fingers in your panties, he tugs at them hard till they tear open.

"Jaeyoon! "

"Don't worry baby, I promise to rip you open like this with my cock tonight" he chuckles.

"Jaeyoon... " you whine and turn your face in attempts to hide your red cheeks from him, which makes him laugh.

"Why? Don't you always like it when I paint your pretty little pussy? Hmm? Why so shy now baby? Scared you'll end up screaming when I fuck you like I say?" He whispers into your ears, fingers fucking into your hole, scissoring to stretch you out and his thumb occasionally brushing your clit. Mewling you try to hide your face from him again. Clicking his tongue in disappointment, he starts sucking on your neck, fingers not stopping their dance in you. When you let out soft moans, easing into the pleasure you're feeling, he smirks knowing damn well he's gonna have you screaming in no time.

Dawon

"Oh my god" you whispered softly as Sanghyuk's tongue flicked your clit suddenly. Gasping silently your hands moved to tug his hair, your legs trying to close but being prevented by his strong arms.

Swallowing the lump in your throat you breathe heavily as he kisses his way up from your core to your lips. A hand of his comes to caress your cheek while he smirks above you. "Do you plan on keeping my ears deprived of your sweet sounds even when I fuck you stupid? " he smiles and questions hotly as he marks up your neck.

"Hmm? " you look at him with doe eyes.

"Fuck don't look at me like that. I'm already finding it hard to control myself" he says kissing your mouth.

Unexpectedly he grinds his naked length to your core, coating his dick with your juices, kissing you, biting your lips and happily swallowing your shocked squeals and yelps that arise from each hip movement.

"Jagi you sound so cute for me" he lines himself up to your entrance, head just prodding into your hole. "Please don't hold back your moans from me baby, otherwise I may have to fuck you till you can't stay quiet anymore" he thrusts his whole length into you at once and starts to fuck you with a fast pace.

With every sound from you he just went deeper and faster, eliciting more moans and cries from you everytime.

Zuho

His groan vibrates through your body, your back arching off the couch handle where he has you over. Your left leg on the floor isn't really helping much as it rises up every time he hums into your pussy, you right leg on his shoulder, his hand holding your thigh and other keeping your legs open for him.

Moaning loudly your hands squeeze your boobs, breathing heavier than when you run a mile. Detaching from your pussy with a pop, he chuckles darkly. "I don't think I've ever heard you moan so loud. I could get used to this yeah "

Diving back in he pushes your left leg towards your chest, his tongue going in deeper than before making your eyes water with joy. His thumb rubs teasing circles on your inner thigh, stimulating you more than you thought possible.

Giving your clit one final suck, he pulls away completely and rises up till your face, kissing you and making you taste yourself on his tongue. He breaks the kiss soon and begins to palm his cock in his trousers.

"I want you to make yourself cum hard, and then I will kiss every inch of your body till there's goosebumps everywhere and then I'll fuck you so good the neighbors will wish they were us, okay? "

Rowoon

"I swear you're making me go crazy" Seokwoo said picking you up and backing your against the nearest wall will your back in flat against it.

Gasping silently you wrap your arms around his broad shoulders and legs around his waist.

Biting your lower lip then licking it, you lift your gaze up from his shirtless torso to his lips to his eyes, only to find them staring at you with such vigor. Smirking he takes a step forward, closing off any gap whatsoever between your bodies.

"What do I do now. Hmm? I go feral around you, and that isn't a very good look for a man so calm like me know? How do we fix this? " he finishes by rutting his hard-on to your clothed core, a series of soft moans erupting from you when he doesn't stop with one rut. You could tell exactly at which moment he got lost in the feeling of you, his eyes turning black with no sign of his chocolate like irises.

Digging your fintertips into his shoulders you slowly tilt your head back till it collides with the wall, giving Seokwoo the chance to lick up your throat. Breathing airily you move your hands to his neck, pulling him away from your neck and kissing him on his lips. The kiss is hot. Tongues mercilessly fighting, hair being tugged lightly, heaving chests not having much space to rise up without touching all with Seokwoo humping you.

Pulling away to catch your breath, "Please fuck me. Please, please, please, please... " you beg cutely not being able to take this torture anymore. Nodding in agreement Seokwoo moves to undress your bottoms and tenderly thrusts his length into you once naked. Mouth falling open in synchronized moans, your volume increases with inch of you being filled by him deliciously.

"Don't you dare stop moaning for me" he fucks you against the wall till you came screaming around his cock two times.

Yoo Taeyang

"And he was so cool you know, just as he always is..." Taeyang fanboys over his idol, quite an eventful day for him today. You really want to listen to him, you do and he looks so adorable and his eyes are so bright but here you are, thinking about his fingers pinching and rubbing the skin of your thighs, just below where your shorts and how it's making you wet cause he's so close to your aching core.

"Baby, are you listening? What's wrong?" He asks, concerned that you have something else on your mind.

"Nothing, sorry. You were saying...." Oh he doesn't buy it. He bites his lip, cause he knows you like the back of his hand, probably better. He knows that his fingers are affecting you, not that he'll admit that it was intentional.

"Come here" he pulls your leg over his lap, making you straddle him and wraps his pretty hands around your waist, holding you close.

"You know you can tell me if you want to fuck me right? " You gasp at his crude words making him chuckle at your adorableness. With a finger under you chin he leans forward attaching your lips together, his favorite dance to do with you to fluster you and make you whine for him to do something, anything to make you cum. And that's the best part for him, breaking you down till you become his needy little cockslut.

"We're not getting off this couch till your legs give out from riding my cock, you understand?"

Shyly you nod your head, unable to meet his eyes. God you'll be the death of him.

Hwiyoung

Inspired by a lovely chat with a friend 😏

Lukewarm water runs down your bodies. Lips engulfing each other's in sync, a lovely dance with running shower water as the music. Youngkyun breaks the kiss and gently brings his hand up to your cheek to rub it. Biting his lip he brings the same hand down, touching your chin, to your neck, to your shoulder and down your arm and finally intertwining your fingers together.

Whilst doing so, his gaze falls on your chest, breathing heavily while reddish marks adorn it in a scattered pattern. Suddenly he spins you so you face the shower and his pink lips attach themselves to your neck. He grazes your skin with his teeth and licks up your earlobe. While distracting you with his antics, his free hand travels down from your waist, over your abdomen and towards your core. You let out a small moan when his fingertips start circling around your clit.

"So sensitive for me baby. Do you like that? Do you like it when I claim you as mine? " he whispers lowly in your ears but all you can concentrate on are his fingers slowly going deeper to where you need him the most. Harshly biting your shoulder, you squeal at the sudden act only to realise that you failed to answer his question.

Your answer is cut off by an unexpected moan, your thighs closing around his hand as he starts to thrust his fingers one by one into your core. "Don't worry baby, it's just you and me. Moan all you want and as loudly as you want " he says needily rubbing his hardened dick on your backside. The rest of the shower was filled with soft whimpers and surprised gasps from the both of you.

Chani

"Baby, why didn't you tell me this?"

"Tell you what?"

"Tell me how great it'd be to sit on my face" Chani says casually almost making you drop the dish you were washing.

He grins at your reaction, catching the way you are breathing heavily at the slightest bit of teasing. He walks up behind you, hugging you as the fingers of his right hand travels up and down your arm, leaving goosebumps in its way.

"My friends told me that it feels amazing to have your girl sit on your face. And I'm sure your girlfriends also would've spoken about it." He explains and presses his half hard dick to your bum, grinding against you and grabs your hips to hold you in place before you run away from him.

"I... Don't... Yeah they did say something but I didn't pay attention cause... I... Fuck... Chani!!" Your words are cut short as your boyfriend started to kiss your neck, bite it even and distract you from your thoughts. His hand hovers around the elastic of your shorts, tugging it so lightly, it's almost not noticeable. As if his actions weren't enough to make you lose you mind,

"You sound so pretty baby. I want you to sit on my face now so I can hear you beg for me to make you cum. " He whispers in your ear, thumbs hooking in your shorts and pulling them down impatiently.

#sf9 #sf9 reactions #sf9 smut #sf9 smut reaction #sf9 x reader #sf9 x reader smut #youngbin smut #inseong smut #jaeyoon smut #dawon smut #zuho smut #rowoon smut #yoo taeyang smut #hwiyoung smut #chani smut #sf9 chani #sf9 headcanon

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synthetickitsune · 1 year

Note

Hi! How are you doing lately? I hope all is well with you 😊 I saw your prompts are open, I was hoping to request Fluff 24 smut 2, 18, 29 with Chani for #Sf9 he’s really making me weak since seeing him perform Valhalla live. I love your writing it helps get me through the days! Have a great holiday 😊

Hey, I hope all is well with you too! ♡ Thank you, and thanks for requesting~

Chani (SF9) | ➢ Bulging ➢ Rough and desperate ➢ "Can I touch you" ➢ "Get over here and make me" smut | 0.8k

“Just shut your mouth already,” he growls, his jaw set and hands all but tearing the tie off his neck. You wouldn’t mind looking at him for eternity, but maybe you can do that later. You don’t blame him, no, you’re actually impressed. He’s lasted so long already, it’d be a shame if you were to push just a little harder. So of course you slowly retract the fingers that drip with your arousal and extend the hand towards him.

“Get over here and make me,” you push his limits, his already strained nerves. That seems to change his mind about throwing the tie away.

And only minutes later your hands lay useless above your head, tied at the wrists. Chani’s body, as bare as your own, hovers above you. Not unlike a predatory bird eyeing its prey. Impatience is not a bad look at him. All his features seem sharper when he’s angry and the look in his eyes makes a shiver run down your spine. You want to talk back to him more, rile him up so much you’d regret it, yet his dark eyes make you lower your head and look at him like you’re asking for forgiveness.

“So you know how to be quiet,” he hums, smirk tugging at corners of his lips. They soon crash into yours, his tongue demanding access straight away. You feel yourself turning into jelly under him. His body prevents you from rubbing your thighs together and all you can do is whine into the punishing kiss.

“So impatient,” he comments with faux nonchalance, as if he wasn’t leaking all over your stomach. Fortunately it doesn’t seem like Chani wants to keep up the act any longer.

Sliding the head of his cock through your soak folds and teasing your clit until you’re begging him to fuck you, he drinks you in. There’s something mesmerizing about your glazed over eyes and how you struggle against your binds, yet leave your hands where he told you to. You’re behaving, so perhaps there’s no reason to deny himself pleasure any longer.

He sheats himself to the hilt and groans as your warm velvety walls envelop him and your legs wrap around his hips. He doesn’t allow you much time to adjust. He’s waited long enough already.

The pace he sets has you crying out his name immediately. His hips snap against yours so fast you feel your body being pushed higher on the bed. Uselessly you dig your nails into your own palms while his make pretty little marks on your hips. You can barely get your eyes to open but the view is worth it. His hair is getting wet with sweat and his eyes are glued to your body. It gives you a sense of power.

Only for it to be ripped away in the next second with a particularly hard thrust. Of course you only have as much power as he allows you to have. At least in the bedroom. You mewl, but over the sound you hear him growl a curse. There’s a hand on your stomach, rubbing a certain spot with unexpected tenderness.

“Open your eyes for me, baby,” he coaxes you, almost cooing as he plants a kiss to your forehead. You do as he told you, meeting his eyes that are not as soft as you’d expect. He smirks, tapping his fingers on your abdomen. “Keep your eyes open. Look here.”

It’s a struggle. He’s not holding back as he resumes his thrusts, deep and hard. You’d think he’s doing it to tease you and make it harder for you but then you see it. With each thrust, that spot bulges and when he presses his hand against the small mound, there can be no doubt as to what is the cause.

“Fuck,” you whine, unbothered by the look of wonder in Chani’s eyes as he keeps fucking into you just to watch your body doing its best to accommodate him. He should slow down or he’ll cum soon but he can’t stop, he can’t tear his eyes away.

“Can I touch you?” you plead, pulling at his tie, trying to free your hands. You need to feel him and pull him close. You want to feel his skin under your palms. You should’ve known better.

Slowing down but not pausing he carefully helps you move your hands until they’re resting over that spot.

“Be good for me now, hm?” he says but it’s strained and it affects you much more than it should, “Keep your hands there and I’ll make you cum on my tongue.”You doubt you’ll last that long, honestly. Feeling him inside you inside and out is a feeling you never expected to know but it’s quickly becoming your favorite.

#sf9 #chani #sf9 reactions #sf9 scenarios #sf9 imagines #sf9 smut #chani smut #sf9 x reader #chani x reader #drabble #smut #requested

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goldenatreides · 2 months

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dune masterlist

hi! i’m vee! she/her, 20s

my askbox is open! feel free to come chat or request—but no promises if requests will be finished or not. your honor i am just a girl 💌

i write mainly paul x reader. bc i am insufferable.

NO use of y/n. will also be branching out in paul x chani, feyd x reader, feyd x irulan. maybe even paul x irulan. feyd x paul!!!! who knows!!! not me!!

WARNING: most of my fics may be 18+ and will be marked as such. MDNI!

i dont currently have a tag list, but let me know if you want me to make one! 🏷️

[ - paul atreides x reader - ]

-> training season (18+)

[one shot, 2.7k words, fluff, smut, pining <3, friends to lovers] read on ao3

in a pinch, a dusty old supply closet turns out to be a good hiding spot, actually.

-> daylight (18+) [coming soon]

in which wine and ballrooms lead to an interesting arrangement. after all, who better to understand the burdens of an heir bound to duty than another?

-> espresso (18+) [coming VERY soon]

[one shot, 2k words, smut, emperor!paul, potential dubcon?? under the influence of spice]

you serve the emperor paul atreides his morning spice coffee.

-> worship at the altar of your sins (18+) [coming soon]

the fool saint, the false messiah, the despot prophet. he can give you the moon and the stars but all you ever needed was him.

-> maroon (18+) [coming soon]

both blood and wine are crimson in the snow.

-> untitled (18+) [coming soon]

[one shot, 1.5k words, smut, paul is a cocky little bitch]

in which paul shows you exactly why he wanted to be a pilot.

[ - feyd rautha x reader - ]

my boy only breaks his favorite toys (18+) [coming soon]

you’re queen of sandcastles he destroys.

-> will be updated as stories get published. thanks for your support!! all feedback is always appreciated. 🤍

-> please do not reupload/redistribute my work anywhere else. the only other place you can find it is my ao3.

-> thank you to @cafekitsune for the banners!

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cassie48 · 3 months

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∙ 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘱𝘩𝘦𝘤𝘺 ∙

Dark!Paul atreides x pregnant fem reader

(Smut included)

• pt2 •

࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎

Only one day after Paul’s near death experience, there was more drama, 𝗢𝗳 𝗰𝗼𝘂𝗿𝘀𝗲. Since Paul drank the worms blood, he had been slightly 𝗗𝗶𝗳𝗳𝗲𝗿𝗲𝗻𝘁..

He was very, very protective over you. He always had been, but after waking up from your tears, he was worse. It had only been a day, and you were already becoming tired of it.

This morning as you walked around the temple, some Fremen came up to you, greeting you and taking your hand into their own. Although this had happened to you multiple times now, you still became uncomfortable and scared. They saw you as their queen.

Paul, out of nowhere came walking up behind you with immense power in his walk, putting fear on the men holding your hand.

He wakes straight up to you, ripping their hands from yours

“la talmasuha.” ( don’t touch her ), he spat wrapping his arm around your waist. The two men ran away quickly.

“Paul…they weren’t trying to hurt me” you said softly.

“My love, whether they were or not is not the point. No one is allowed to touch you.” He said, his voice darkening at the last part.

You huffed, your face scrunching up in annoyance, before looking at him, your frown faltering slightly. 𝗗𝗮𝗺𝗻 𝗶𝘁 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗰𝗼𝘂𝗹𝗱 𝗻𝗲𝘃𝗲𝗿 𝘀𝘁𝗮𝘆 𝗺𝗮𝗱 𝗮𝘁 𝗵𝗶𝗺!

He pulled you into a hug, his hands going to your bump, which was now quite big. You sighed into the hug, leaning your head on his shoulder.

“How’s our son?” He asked smiling.

You laughed lightly “our son is fine, full of energy though. Woke me at all hours from kicking” you huffed.

Paul laughed at your words “just like his father” he said pulling away slightly, to place a kiss on your bump. He pulled away, giving your forehead a kiss.

“Come with me” he said, taking your hand in his leading you to the room full of Fremen. They had all been praying there since yesterday. Once Paul told everyone that the prophecy was true, they went crazy, praying immediately. He gently led to to the room slowly, knowing your body was tired.

As you two made your way through the crowds, the Fremen praised to themselves, touching you and Paul on the shoulders. It was all lovely, until one of the men on your right kneeled beside you, placing his hands on either side of your swollen belly, which was covered with an orange dress.

Paul whipped his head around as soon as he felt you stop, but when he saw that man with his hands all over you, he couldn’t control himself.

“kayf tajru ealaa lamsiha.” ( don’t you dare touch her). He yelled at the men, shoving him off of you.

“Paul!” You screeched as he shoved the man.

He said nothing as he took you in his arms again bringing you into the centre of the room with him, you two stepping up into what looked like a little stage.

Before speaking he turned around to you “ (y/n), if anyone ever touches you again you tell me” he growled, before turning with you to face everyone.

You stepped back a little, leaning against his side, not liking everyone looking at you. You buried your face in the back of his shoulder, hoping he didn’t do something too stupid.

Paul began speaking to everyone in the Fremen language, you understood some bits.

“I am paul Mua’dib atreides, Duke of Arrakis!” you heard him say in English. You stared at him, shocked at his confidence and power. But….you kind of liked it.

He turned and looked at you taking your hands in his. “hal yatamanaa 'ahadukum 'an takun zawjatuka?” He yelled at the audience

(Do any of you wish she was your wife?)

You stared as many looked away in fear and respect. He looked at you before continuing.

“an takun kadhalik abdan. 'iinaha tahmil tifli. milki” he told them, a dark anger in his tone. (She never will be. It’s my child she carries. Mine)

He continued on threatening other men, telling everyone he was the messiah and he would make Arrakis duke again. He also boldly said he’d make a claim for the emperors throne. This made you smile, these people deserved to live in their own planet without suffering.

After a few more minutes, Paul left the room bring you with him. You two spoke about plans on the way to your room.

Once there he helped you out of your dress, into a night dress. You lay on your bed, waiting for Paul to join you. Once he did, you turned and lay your head on his chest.

“Paul do you promise to stay with 𝗨𝘀 forever?” You asked, your hand on your belly. Fear in your voice.

“Of course my love. Why do you ask?” He said tucking some hair around you ear, away from your face.

You looked down “well..I don’t know I mean, you might be emperor and well..you might not want me anymore” you said your eyes filling with tears.

“(Y/N), you don’t seem to understand. I’ve seen my future, 𝗢𝘂𝗿 future. You are meant to rule along side me. Wel belong together, forever” he said kissing you softly.

“Promise?” You asked as he wipped your eyes.

“I promise sweetheart” he said leaning down and kissing you passionately. He pulled you up a bit, leaning in deeper.

“Mhm Paul” you whispered as his kisses went down your neck slowly.

“What, you want more?” He teased kissing you.

You nodded into the kiss, your hands going to his dark curls. His hands traveled all over you as he kissed you passionately.

Eventually, his hand went underneath your night dress and he slipped his finger into your panties. He teasing traced his fingers over your aching core.

“Paul!” You yelled out with a pout.

He smirked before slipping a finger inside you, kissing you as you moaned out loudly, he moved in in and out while his other hands traveled under you night dress, to your breasts.

You begged him for more, tears swelling in your big eyes. He obliged undressing as well.

He carefully slid inside you, both of you moaning out in pleasure. He pulled your night dress down slightly to have access to your perky breasts. He sucked them while pumping in and out of you.

You both rocked your hips, your bodies moving together like one, as you kissed passionately. Eventually you found yourself coming close to your climax.

“Paul I’m gon- I’m gonna cum” you whispered.

“Me too sweetheart” he said in your ear. A moment later you both came undone, him inside you.

You yelled out loudly, pleasure erupting from inside you.

“Thats right, you let them know your mine” he growled.

After you both came down from your high, he cleaned you up and gently slid your night dress onto you properly, while redressing himself.

“I love you Paul” you whispered before falling asleep on his chest.

“I love you too” he whispered back, watching you as you drifted off to sleep, his hands wrapped around your bump. Although his prophecy was long and full of adventure, 𝗬𝗼𝘂 𝘄𝗲𝗿𝗲 𝗯𝘆 𝗳𝗮𝗿 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗺𝗼𝘀𝘁 𝗶𝗺𝗽𝗼𝗿𝘁𝗮𝗻𝘁 𝗽𝗮𝗿𝘁.

࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎

I’ll try to do pt3 soon too!!

#paul atreides x reader #paul atreides x reader yandere #dune 2 #dune part two #fanfiction #sci fi and fantasy #paul atreides #chani kynes #stilgar #timothee chalamet x reader #dune movie #paul atredies x reader #smut

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jolenes-doppelganger · 1 month

Text

Shooting the Messenger (Part Two)

Reverend Mother Jessica x Fem! Harkonnen Reader

NSFW 18+- MINORS WHO INTERACT CAN AND WILL BE BLOCKED.

Summary: As you struggle adjust to both your life under Jessica's steel grip and the casual assault of the Fremen spice on your palate, something has to give. But it isn't Jessica's humiliation that cracks you, rather the poorly timed dosage of spice on the both of you.

Warnings: Jessica is a menace (GASLIGHT, GATEKEEP, girlboss?), smut- oral giving (R), sex under the influence of spice melange, more spitting/water sharing (because it's Jessica, COME ON).

A/N: Finals week or my final week? Neither! Just one more takeaway essay. :(

Word Count: 3.3k

Jessica was true to her word. Mostly. The weeks following her initial ‘custodial arrangement’, as she often referred to it, felt like being imprisoned in a mostly hostile, occasionally uneventful prison. The Fremen didn’t like you. That much was obvious. But how could you blame them? Your unnatural complexion was a testament to just how other you were. They avoided you, mostly. And when the Fremen slipped enough spice into your food to make you literally see things, you didn’t tell a soul. And so the extreme doses of spice stopped. Jessica’s chambermaids came to respect you, in the barest sense. Sure they didn’t like you, and you didn’t like them, but you had an understanding. Don’t mess with me, I won’t mess with you. No further tests with spice were administered. But Jessica had her own tests.

“You’re late.” she growled, watching as you slipped into her chambers.

“I came as soon as you requested me.” you replied, voice meek.

“I shouldn’t *have* to request you, it should always be you coming to my chambers as you do every night.”

Arguing with her was the equivalent of Sisyphus pushing a boulder up the hill. No matter how much ground you gained, she always took it from you just as you were about to reach the highest point.

“I’m sorry, Reverend Mother.”

“Always sorry, always screwing up.”

You swallowed the bile that rose in your throat. She was unhappy. The war on Arrakis wasn’t going well, more people were dying, not just on Arrakis but across the galaxy. By now you understood your job wasn’t to aid Paul, it was to aid Jessica. She needed someone to care for, and the warrior child Alia almost never requested her mother’s presence unless it was for matters of war. Paul and Chani were glued at the hip, all while Princess Irulan withered away in her sandy palace. Jessica had no one, and the Fremen needed a force that would rouse them. She’d given much of her duties to Stilgar, but as the days wore on, she became more moody, quiet and stern.

“You miss Caladan today.”

Jessica stiffened. As much as she was constantly pushing you towards sensing her needs, the moments where you succeeded caught her off guard.

“... I do.”

A seat beside her brought the woman much comfort. Her arms darted out for your frame, burying her face in the fabric of your veil. Your hair was starting to smell like sand. She hated it.

“I need something from you.” Jessica whispered, voice hoarse.

You reached up, cupping her face with your hands, the way she had instructed you to some nights past. Her spice blue eyes softened.

“Your eyes are starting to turn blue.” Jessica fretted, her eyes clouding over. “I’ve asked the Fremen to stop giving you spice in your food. If you taste it, you don’t eat it.” she whispered. “I won’t let this desert change you too. You must stay the same for me, okay?”

Her words were sensitive and frightened. It was a hidden battle within herself, clinging to the things that reminded her of home whilst still trying to reconcile with her changed life on Arrakis. It was heartbreaking to watch her suffer. That was when you managed the little empathy you could allot her.

“I like the spice in my food.”

Jessica’s face took on a pained expression, and she gripped you tighter.

“And I will not let your eyes go blue. If you want something for taste I will have them use pepper and sage. Not melange.”

Today was not one of those days where you felt empathy for her. It was a day where you had woken up sweaty and stinking of the sietch. It was a day where you couldn’t bear the taste of the Fremen food, and thus hardly ate. It was a day where you were thirsting endlessly for a glass of cool water, of water recycled by the earth and dug from the one ‘clean’ well spot on Giedi Prime. Not this water that had been carried in bodies so long that it had stopped tasting as water should. You missed the taste of chlorine in your water, oddly enough.

“Fine.” you assented.

Jessica dug her fingers into the hair on your scalp, tugging at it with a degree of force that was really unnecessary.

“It is not just ‘fine’ that you should be saying, it is ‘yes, of course’.” Jessica snarled, her blue eyes blazing with fire.

You were both out of compassion and patience, it seemed.

“You are alive because of me, you ungrateful brat.”

“And sometimes I wonder if the merciful thing would have been letting me die instead of staying in this shithole!”

Jessica crowed with laughter, amused by your words.

“Oh, is the taste of real food making you upset? Do you miss your soulless sun and your grey walls and the sounds of debauchery wherever you went?”

Debauchery? How quaint.

“Do you think I am ignorant to the melange orgies? Do you think I am not aware of the way that men have trained themselves to fuck without spurting semen? The Fremen here are just as debauched as you are, lady mother. As we are, Harkonnen blood of my own.” Jessica was speechless. After all these weeks of breaking you down and bending you into the perfect obedient shape, you still had fight in you.

"Kneel.” The command hit you straight in the chest, pushing you from your lap and contorting to your knees in front of her. “You will remain kneeling until this chat is over, understand?” “I understand.” Assenting of your own volition was always better than the metallic taste of your words if they were forced with the Voice. It almost felt like blood was in your mouth when your tongue was compelled to speak, that thick substance slipping over your tongue as your mouth moved in shapes clumsy and uncoordinated. You never sounded like yourself when your speech was compelled, you sounded like you were eight, with a lisp peeking out, a lisp you’d buried after years of practice.

“Why do you fight?” Jessica sighed, as if this conversation was nothing short of tedious, (which it most certainly was).

“I don’t like you.”

Jessica laughed, eyes flickering with menacing humour. The idea was novel to her.

“Oh, how precious. You still allow yourself to be ruled by your feelings. I’d forgotten that individuals had that capacity towards blind emotion.”

Jessica wrapped her legs around your shoulders, using her hand to force your head to look up at her. It was a position that should have forced your face into her pelvis, but she manipulated your body just enough so that your head was pulled the opposite way. It added tension on your neck, highlighting the unnatural position of your head up instead of down; planted between her thighs. Another mind-fuck.

“You don’t get to let your emotions rule your decisions, that is not merely childish but also stupid. Everything about you is under my whim, what you feel I tell you to feel and you feel nothing else.” She dropped her grasp from your scalp suddenly, nearly causing you to face plant into her pubic bone. It was embarrassing, and thrilling. For many weeks she had been planting seeds inside your mind meant to excite desire for her. All of these seeds were laced with humility, such as the time she’d had you scrub her underwear clean of stains. It had been a lesson in how the Fremen sanitised clothes, mainly with the help of the sun, but also with the use of smell. You didn’t know a garment was clean until you smelled it. Sniffing her underthings to ensure they were clean had been sickening, creating an image of you doing it merely out of pleasure instead of necessity.

“I hate this.” you whispered under your breath.

Jessica paused, only for a moment. Her thighs wrapped around your neck, shoving your face into her pubic region. “I can always make you hate it more.”

Tears sprung to your eyes. Wasteful tears, tears Jessica would hiss over, glaring you down until you stopped.

“Why do I have to hate it? Why is it always a humilatory act?” you lamented, lips catching on the fabric of her dress as you spoke.

You heard Jessica’s sardonic chuckle.

“Would you obey if I was sweet to you? If I mothered you and coddled you and let you need me?”

“Yes.” you whispered.

Her legs loosened, and she pulled you up, wrapping her arms around you and cooing softly over your misty eyes.

“Why didn’t you just say so, hmm? Don’t you know that I’d rather be spoiling you than fighting with you?”

Her hands brushed over your face and head, soothing all the little worries away. She was manipulating you, this was textbook gaslighting. You knew it and you opened your mouth to fight it.

“Ah ah ah…” Jessica tutted. “Don’t think, I’ll tell you what to think. Just be here, present with me, hmm?”

She smiled, brushing her lips over your ear.

“Just be present.” <-->

The move to her bed was neither surprising nor eventful. Your chores stopped. The humiliating acts stopped. There was only sweet Jessica. Her arms curled around you while you both slept, the feeling of her lips brushing your ear as she whispered between you two, it was uneventful, almost maternal. But the abatement of her lust was destroyed after a particular melange engorgement.

“Where is she?” Jessica rasped to a Fremen chambermaid.

“Inside your rooms, I believe. She’s studying.” the Fremen woman lied. You could hear Jessica’s wheezing breaths from outside the door. “You’re not partaking in the festivities? Go back, enjoy the moment-” “No, open the door.” Jessica snapped. “Reverend Mother…” The two descended into a heated debate in Chakobsa, words spoken at such a rapid and hurried pace that you could hardly keep up. You’d been studying the language, and could practise it conversationally, but their words were too fast to keep up with. But it wasn’t just their rapid pace that made it difficult, it was the swirling shapes above your head that distracted you. Your food had been laced with spice, again. The argument between the women outside escalated, and you heard a slap. Your stomach lurched as you heard the sharp tone in Jessica’s voice, a visceral, unforgiving wielding of the Voice. The door cracked open, and Jessica came in, hand on her abdomen, taking shaky breaths. Her hands were shaking, and you could barely make out the desperate expression on your face as you lay supine on the bed. “Lady mother…” you hummed, eyes half-lidded and glazed over from the spice.

Jessica groaned, stumbling forward and slumping on the bed beside you.

“My beautiful girl, not you too? Oh you poor thing…” Jessica cooed, lips pressing sloppy kisses on your jaw. Jessica’s breath stank of melange. How much had she used?

“Shapes and colours…” you gave her a goofy smile.

Jessica groaned and whimpered again, touching your fevered skin beneath your tunic. “How much spice did they give you?” Jessica whispered. “Dunno. The food was very spicy.” you giggled. “I’m not too high. Just happy high.” you clarified.

Jessica nodded, letting out a breathy exhale. Her hands cupped above her womb. Was she having some kind of reaction to the spice? She looked like she was in pain. “Help me undress, I’m too warm.” Jessica panted. “Undress us both, actually.”

You didn’t argue with the woman. She was obviously reacting poorly to the melange she’d consumed, and so you stripped her of her tunic and her pants. Your movements were a bit sloppy, as you were intoxicated with melange, but you managed. She was covered in sweat, and the humid air of the sietch didn’t help cool her skin much, it just trapped the moisture. There was moisture clinging to her panties too. You assumed it was sweat. “These as well?”

“Yes.” Jessica panted. “Bare as the day I was born.”

You pulled them off, dropping the sweaty garments on the floor. Her hands pulled at your tunic, you were at risk of overheating. The fabric came off, and Jessica skipped no steps in ensuring you were entirely bare.

“I can’t believe they would do this to you, I told them to stop putting spice in your food, especially for celebrations…” Jessica whispered, pulling you towards her.

Her skin felt clammy against your own, and you shifted in discomfort, causing your nipples to brush over hers.

“Hu- Oh, no, don’t move honey.” Jessica whined. “I can’t let you move.”

You nuzzled into her neck.

“Lover, no, no. I’m too tense, I can’t have you snuggling with me.” “Why?” you rasped.

“Because I’ll lose my composure. I’ll use the Voice to make you do things that would defy moral behaviour.”

You giggled, tickled by the idea of Jessica trying to cling to whatever skewed moral compass she had.

“You don’t want to fuck me high, is that it?” you whispered, kissing her cheek. “Okay. I’ll just leave then.” You were significantly less encumbered by the spice than Jessica, namely because you hadn’t been given more than a few pinches. It was easy to slip out of her arms, leaving the woman to whine and whimper as you left.

“No! No!” Jessica whimpered. “Don’t leave, please.”

You glanced over your shoulder at the woman. Her hands were fisted in the bedsheets, and she appeared to almost be in pain.

“Oh come on, you can’t take care of it yourself?” you smirked.

“Please.” Jessica whispered. “I came because I wanted it to be you.”

The idea was novel.

“Oh, and who else would it have been?”

Jessica let out another whine.

“I don’t do orgies. I don’t like them, and I am depraved, but not in that way. My beautiful girl, I want it to be you.”

She was high. And you were high. The spice melange dulled inhibitions, it made you more susceptible to her manipulation, more susceptible to her games, but this wasn’t a game. She was being truthful, and you knew she was being truthful because she was so weak. Jessica never gave you an inch, she never dropped her guard. This wasn’t a game where she was teasing your strings and spinning you into a position of subservience for her own gain, this was her begging for you.

“Good girl, oh precious thing…” Jessica rasped, happily wrapping her arms around you as you dropped back onto the bed.

Her dark hair clung to her back in tangled, sweaty clumps. You didn’t want to think about the state your hair was in. She pulled you in deeper, cupping the back of your head until her lips crashed on yours in a messy, hurried kiss.

“I always wondered what Harkonnen women had that made men desire them so.” Jessica rasped. “I think it’s your smell. I hate that you’re losing your smell…”

Her hands drew circles up and down your back.

“I want to enjoy you, I really do, but lover, it hurts so bad.” Jessica husked, biting her lower lip.

“Give me more kisses.” you shut her down, lips hungrily seeking hers.

Jessica huffed, continuing to makeout with you on her mattress. Her tongue was bitter and laced with the taste of melange, and her tongue was dry. You reached for the water collector in the room, finding the straw and sipping from it. You held her mouth open, releasing the water into her mouth so she could drink. She was weak, dehydrated and in need of intimacy.

“Mmm… More.” Jessica sighed, the water quelling her slightly.

You drank a few sips for yourself, then you leaned down, delivering more water into her mouth. Jessica giggled, kissing you sloppily. She was happy, this was happy.

“Lay on your back for me now.” Jessica rasped, hands digging into your back.

You rolled over, allowing Jessica to lie over you.

“Can I trust you to tell me if you can’t breathe?”

“Yes, lady mother.”

Jessica sighed, moving to straddle your face.

“No, not like that. You sit on the edge of the bed, I’m too hot for that.”

The woman laughed, relinquishing the orientation to you. It was easier, kneeling on the floor. You liked it a lot, a simple cushion under your knees and your skin free for air flow. Jessica was quick to hike her thighs over your shoulders, letting out a needy whimper.

“Yes, yes, just like that.”

Her hands laced themselves in your hair. Your hands busied themselves with supporting her. Your thumbs spread her dripping labia, revealing a milky, inflamed entrance.

“How long were you-”

“Don’t make me use the Voice. Get to work.”

The thought was amusing, and you chuckled a bit, leaning in and pressing a soft kiss to her entrance, getting your first good smell and taste of her. Being that the desert gave limited opportunities to clean, her smell was concentrated, and the influence of spice was not lost on this particular part of her body either. A slow stripe up from her entrance to her clit was intoxicating, she was so different.

“I said, don’t make me use the Voice.” Jessica whined, hands shoving your face into her more earnestly.

It didn’t matter what she was threatening, you were in your own little world, the spice melange providing an immersive experience to the act. You were more present than you had ever been in similar situations. Slow licks provided the best coverage, the flat of your tongue working over her in gentle, steady motions.

“Lover, please…” Jessica sighed, heels digging into your back.

You looked up at her with half-lidded, relaxed eyes, your mouth glued to her clit.

“Roll your tongue, suck.” Jessica directed.

You shut your eyes, focusing on the sensation of her nub on your tongue as you rolled circles around it, sucking it in your mouth greedily.

“Mmmhmm… Yes… Just like that lover.”

Developing a rhythm became second nature, slow licks from entrance to clit to catch her slick, more pointed rolls of your tongue over her clit to elicit a few gasps and moans. But her opening got more attention.

“(Reader), you are such a tease… At least fuck me with your tongue.” Jessica panted.

You obliged, sticking your tongue past the ring of her vagina. You moaned into her, pistoning your tongue in and out. As to not neglect her pleasure entirely, your thumb found her clit, rubbing gentle circles over the nerve cluster as you busied yourself with slurping and licking at her entrance.

“Oh… Maker… Don’t you dare stop, yes!” Jessica groaned, pushing your face down.

You sped up your motions of your thumb, rewarding you with more soft whines and grunts as Jessica neared her peak. You felt it before you heard Jessica’s cry of affirmation, the muscles of her entrance contracting and quivering around your tongue. The woman slumped back into the bed, leaving you to quietly draw slow licks from entrance to clit, cleaning her up. Jessica drank greedily from her water bag, tugging you upwards by your chin. She flipped you onto your back, opening your mouth so she could deliver a beam of water on your tongue. You swallowed, and Jessica grinned, greedily licking her arousal off of your lower mouth.

“Such a generous lover… You’ve worn me out spectacularly.”

Jessica giggled, pulling you into her arms, pressing your still sweaty forms against each other to rest. The night was filled with zero interruptions, and as your skin and clothes dried, the moisture collector filled itself. Jessica was quick to take a sip or two, always stirring you awake to pour a mouthful of water into your mouth, pressing a soft kiss to your lips before you drifted off again. Come morning, your skin was dry, the humidity in the air gone and your mouths no longer sticky from mucus.

“Lover?” Jessica whispered.

“Yes?” you mumbled, head in her breasts.

“Can I spoil you now?”

You giggled, playfully biting the underside of her boob.

“Okay, feisty. Don’t make me-”

“Use the Voice? Empty threats.” you smirked.

Jessica laughed again, kissing you tenderly. A wicked look in her eyes remained.

”Desire.”

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