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yieldtotemptation · 2 months

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BLUEBERRIES ft. Chaewon

chaewon x male reader smut

9k words

"SURPRISE ATTACK!"

—is the last thing you hear before your entire world tilts sideways, the weight of your girlfriend crashing into you, sending you toppling over the arm of your chair and onto the thankfully plush carpet.

And just like that, Kim Chaewon has arrived—shattering the quiet of your apartment with the sound of her giggles and the thud of your bodies.

To her credit, she gracefully lands on top of you—legs straddling your torso, hands pressing down on your chest—pinning you to the floor, and she's grinning—all doe-eyes and mischief, her hair fanned out around her like a strawberry-blonde halo.

"Do you surrender, baby?"

You could pretend to put up a fight—push back a little, buck your hips, take her by the waist—get a little rough. But why would you? Especially when losing meant having Chaewon on top of you.

So, like always, you decide it's best to give your girlfriend exactly what she wants and you play along: enjoying the creamy thighs squeezing your sides, that collarbone peeking out of your stolen sweatshirt, those impossibly large eyes looking down at you as she makes herself comfortable—and you respond with a rather theatrical groan, "I surrender, Chae."

"Nuh uh," she corrects you, her voice dropping down a comically low octave. "It's Chaewon-rys Targar-something, Queen of Apartment 19-4, Ruler of..."

"My fridge?" You offer.

"Very funny,” Chaewon replies, bemused.

It's been weeks without this—without her—and you've barely survived. Chaewon's schedule is a merciless beast, devouring every second of her time. But here she is, now, with you—on top of you—back in your life and picking up from exactly where she left off.

“But,” she continues, “seeing as you're in the mood for jokes how about… ThisI" Chaewon turns cruel, unveiling her most brutal method of torture—tickling. She catches you off guard, shifting her weight, her hands abandoning your chest and flying to your sides, her light fingers dancing over your ribs, her nails lightly digging in just enough to make you squirm.

"Wait-wait-wait!" You try to twist your way free, but she's got you good, her fingers now inching closer to your armpits, towards your most vulnerable spots. "Mercy!" you yell, but she's just getting started— “Mercy!”

"No mercy!" She's relishing this far, far too much, all giggles and grins, delighted at your pathetic efforts to struggle out from her grasp and escape her vicious assault. Your laughter comes out in uncontrollable bursts, as you desperately try to cover your sides to protect yourself from her onslaught.

"Ok-ok-ok-I give up! You win— you win—I give up!" You cry out, your laughter morphing into wheezes as Chaewon's relentless tickling at last, mercifully subsides.

"Aha! Round 129 goes to Kim-Chae-Won!" Chaewon turns and bows to an imaginary audience, mimicking a faraway crowd chanting her name "Kim-Chae-Won! Kim-Chae-Won!"

"I have once again been defeated," you feign a dramatic sigh, drawing an even harder laugh from Chaewon as you roll your eyes to the back your head and let your tongue loll out of your mouth.

Your apparent death does little to faze Chaewon, who takes this as an opportunity to plop down on your stomach, pressing her full weight down on your chest. She props her elbows on either side of your shoulders, her chin resting on her interlocked hands. “I guess it’s time to claim my prize.”

Chaewon slides her hands upwards, her fingertips walking up your arms towards your wrists, squeezing them lightly and pulling them over your head, holding them firm against the ground.

When your eyes finally refocus, she’s hovering over you, her button nose brushing against yours, and her lips—bright pink and slightly parted—just millimeters away from your own.

You're trapped under her, but you hardly mind—she's so warm, so soft, so natural—crime would skyrocket if this was considered a form of punishment.

"Let this be a lesson," she's whispering now, very much satisfied, so close that waves of her strawberry-blonde hair spill down on either side of your face. Strands tickle your nose with the scent of her shampoo, a floral bouquet that you've come to associate with lazy Sundays and the promise of warm breakfasts in bed. "I. Always. End. On. Top."

She finishes her victory speech by stealing a kiss—as light and sweet as she is—but it’s still far, far shorter than you'd like.

That simple kiss has your mind wandering, entertaining the thought of flipping the script—of surprising her, overpowering her and turning the tables.

You could grab her, kiss her long and hard—get rid of that ludicrously oversized sweatshirt and tear off those dangerously short sweatpants. Part those lithe, never-ending legs, feel the warmth of her bare skin against yours, mark your territory on her perfect, toned thighs and each individual abdominal muscle.

But the way she's looking at you, her cheeks flushed from the exertion, her eyes sparkling with playful triumph, she's so adorable that the thought of manhandling her right now seems almost...sacrilegious.

And, let's face it, it's seeing this side of her that you love—the Chaewon that's free from the glitz and glamour of the stage, the choreography, the smiles that are painted on for the cameras. The Chaewon that is not wearing the mask of someone enjoying herself, that is actually, genuinely having a good time.

Here, in your apartment, with the curtains drawn and the outside world blocked out, she's just yours—Kim Chaewon, your girlfriend. The one who laughs at your terrible dad jokes and makes fun of your outdated sense of style, the one who can tell whether you've had a good day or not just by how heavy your feet are when you walk through the front door, the one who knows all the perfect ways to make you relax after a tough day at—

Fuck.

Work.

The word sneaks into your mind like a ninja in the night—silent, swift, and really fucking inconvenient.

Fucking work.

A bullshit spreadsheet you're supposed to be updating and a deck that needs to be finished by tomorrow morning, even though you know it won't be looked at for another month.

You don't have to say anything, Chaewon's already reading the frown lines on your face. "Oh—no-no-no. That's your—'fun time is over I have work to do'—face. I hate that face."

"There's these slides..." you know you’re fighting a losing battle, your voice trailing off as you try to hold onto the last remnants of what was once a very pleasant afternoon.

"No way—not happening," Chaewon insists, emphasising her point with a firm squeeze of your wrists. "I only just came back from Japan, and it’s been weeks. There is no way you're going to ditch the beautiful love of your life for that laptop. I'm literally on top of you right now!"

"Come on, Chae, I was almost done when you came in—"

"—when I defeated you in combat and forced you to surrender— "

"At least let me do a quick review then I swear I'm all yours," you negotiate, trying to maintain eye contact with her but failing as your gaze falls to the laptop atop your desk, the open tabs taunting you. "Five minutes, tops."

"Nope, not moving, not going anywhere, you're just going to have stay under me like this forever." Chaewon's being petulant now—this is more your fault than anything, you've been spoiling her like a princess—and while she is acting like a brat, it's a brat of your own creation.

"Chae—come on—let me up, please."

"If I let you up, you'll get into one of your 'zones' and then it'll be hours before you’re done and you’ll completely ignore me," Chaewon pouts, her nose scrunching up in a way that's both endearing and exasperating. "And I've missed you too much for that."

"I promise I won't—”

Chaewon rolls her eyes at that.

“I'm serious—just let me up."

"Oh, you're serious now, how scary."

"Five minutes, Chae—"

“Bullshit.”

“Come on, let me up.”

"Or what, what are you going to—wait—what the—wait!"

It doesn't take much effort at all—face it, she's at best a hundred pounds soaking wet—but you're already on your feet, wrists free of her dainty fingers, holding her up with just one arm and a single hand palming an ample ass cheek.

You catch your breath as you stand, and she’s still reeling as the sudden balance shifts. She’s forced to cling to you, wrapping those long, toned legs around your waist, and looping her arms around your neck, her hands grasping at the back of your head as if she's afraid you're going to drop her.

"H-how the—how did you—I had you pinned!" Chaewon squeaks out, pure disbelief colouring her voice as she clings onto you.

You leave her to work through the logic on her own, returning to your desk, righting your fallen chair, all the while still holding Chaewon like a prize you've just won at an arcade.

"Hey! Don't ignore me!" Chaewon protests, but it's too late. You've already set her down on your desk, the laptop between the two of you like a barricade. She tries to keep her limbs wrapped around you, legs around your waist—do anything she can to stop you—but you gently, quite easily, peel her off—earning another scowl from your girlfriend.

You can feel Chaewon's eyes boring into you as you sit down at your desk, her legs swinging back and forth from the edge of the desk in frustration. The work itself doesn't take long—you were being honest—just a minor grammar check here, fixing some formatting there and—

"What was that? How did you just—”

It's the first time you've ever seen Kim Chaewon—usually so composed and untouchable on stage—so completely, utterly flustered.

"I don't get it. I mean did you just get this strong?" Chaewon's voice is small, barely heard over the sound of your keystrokes—trying to process what just happened. She's shifted on the desk, leaning back now on her palms, looking at you like you're a puzzle piece that doesn't fit anywhere at all. "Or have you always been—you were just—were you letting me win? Hey—why are you laughing?"

You hit a final 'enter', saving your work with a performative flair, and spin the chair around to face Chaewon so you can give her your full, undivided attention.

But she's not looking at you—no, she's still trying to make sense of it, her gaze flitting from the chair, to the floor, to the laptop, to your hands that are now folded neatly in your lap. You're expecting a comeback, something witty and biting, something that'll make you laugh, but she's just sitting there—pouting. Adorably so.

"Chae, come on."

"What?" She snaps out of her daze, the hardware in her head overclocking. "I just—I exercise way more than you—I run, I dance everyday, I go to the gym, I do pilates—you can't be that much stronger than me."

"I'm like twice your size, Chae." You chuckle, reaching for the water bottle on your desk and taking a well-earned swig. "And I do manage to sneak in some workouts when you're not around to tickle me to death."

"But... this whole time?" Chaewon asks, there’s an accusation in her voice as she crosses her arms over her chest, inadvertently distracting you with the way it makes her sweatshirt pull tightly across her breasts. It's too fucking cute, and you can't help but lean in for a kiss, but she turns her head away at the last second. "Every time, you've been taking it easy on me? Kiddie gloves?"

You sigh. "More or less."

"Why?"

"I guess I thought you knew," you say with a sheepish smile, "but even then, I didn't want to spoil the fun for you." You take another sip of water, watching her carefully. "You're so competitive, Chae. And when we’re playing like this and you win, you're so... happy. I just like seeing that."

"But that's..." Chaewon stammers. "Even when we're... You know... You're so... Gentle with me."

"Of course, I never want to—I'm just afraid that—"

"Afraid of what? That you'll break me? Okay, Bruce Banner." Chaewon teases, seemingly having made some decision in her own mind, as she hops off the desk to face you. "So, you've been holding back? You really think you’re that much stronger than me?”

You give her a very cautious shrug.

"Prove it."

"What?"

"If you’re really as strong as you think. Show me. Here—take my wrists—" Chaewon says, holding them out to you, "—and I bet I'll still be able to break free like I always do."

“I’m not sure if this is such a good idea,” you say, setting your bottle aside and standing up to face her.

“Why? Chicken?” She answers, and you try not to facepalm, reminding yourself that it is easier to just give her what she wants—most of the time, anyway.

"Alright, if that's what you want," you reply, gently placing your hands on her shoulders and guiding her so her back is flat against the nearest wall. She's staring up at you the whole time, watching you intensely as you take both her wrists in one hand, holding it against the wall and above her head.

"Really, only one hand? This will be real easy to get out of—" Chaewon starts to taunt, but she never gets to finish her sentence, because your grip tightens around her wrists and she feels the full weight of your body pressing into hers. She tries to pull away, expecting the same give she's felt countless times before, but your hand is like a vice—firm and unyielding—and it dawns on her that she's not going anywhere.

Her eyes widen slightly, and she tries to hide her surprise—because she's still in the game, still playing along. She tries to push off from the wall with her legs, but you anticipate it, placing a hand on her waist and keeping her in place.

Even you're surprised at how little effort it is to keep her still—a small push here, a slight change in weight there—Chaewon is at your mercy and it feels... different.

"Wait—I can't—" Chaewon still hasn’t given up, squirming and wiggling, doing little to help her escape but a lot to make you want to keep her against you.

She's trapped, every move she makes only making it worse for her—better for you—moulding her body closer into yours, aligning the softness of her curves with the hard lines of your chest.

But still, she struggles, tries every way she can think of to break free—twisting, turning, pushing with her legs, even trying to bite you at one point—but her best efforts only make you chuckle, and press her harder into the wall, press yourself harder into her.

You can feel her heart racing beneath her sweatshirt, and there's something there—you both feel it—a sudden tension in her helplessness, a thrill in your newfound power over her. "Damn it—this is so—argh!"

Chaewon’s eyes meet yours, and there’s your confirmation—that spark of something new, something unspoken. It's not anger or fear—no, she's never looked at you with fear—it's something else entirely. It's excitement, curiosity, a hint of arousal.

And so, you lean in, closing the last gap between you, and kiss her—right there against the wall.

It's not the gentle peck she's used to, it's not the sweet, loving kiss she’s grown to expect—it's more. You don’t even understand it yourself—it's raw, it's passionate, it's the kind of kiss that could start a war—or end one—the kind of kiss that sucks all the air from the room.

Her body tenses up, and for a moment you fear that maybe this is too much, too far, and you ready to let her go.

But she melts into it—into you. You let go of her wrists to cradle her face, and her arms fall to your shoulders, wrapping around your neck as she kisses you back—kisses you like she doesn't want you to ever stop, like she knows she couldn't stop you even if she tried. Her nails dig into your skin, not painfully, but with enough pressure to remind you that she's here, that she's alive and real and in this moment with you.

You push her into the wall, the plaster giving a gentle protest, and she’s lifting her legs up—she’s straddling you again, gravity doing its job and keeping her affixed to your torso.

Chaewon adapts, her ankles lock behind your back, pressing herself against you, her thighs tightening around your waist, and she’s hips grinding down over your sweatpants.

It’s almost too much, too fast—zero to a hundred in record time. You break the kiss, panting, breathless, but Chaewon's eyes stay closed, her chest heaving, as if she's afraid that if she opens them, this moment will evaporate like a mirage.

"Enough proof for you?"

"Yeah," is all Chaewon can muster, and she opens her eyes, dazed, like you’ve just woken her up from a particularly good dream.

"I'm sorry," you say, the words coming out in a rush, "I didn't mean to lie to you, I just didn't want to ruin your fun. Are you upset?"

"Upset?" Chaewon repeats, letting the word roll around her lips. "Maybe a little bit," she's biting her lip—so endearingly—and you can see the wheels turning in her head—recalculating, reassessing. "But now I'm just..." she pauses, looking down and rolling her hips against you once more, "I'm just really, really turned on."

Her admission hangs in the air between the two of you, and the air in your apartment begins to feel hotter, thicker, laced with something new.

"I love how you take care of me, how you make me feel safe..." Chaewon continues, "But this... the way you're holding me up like this... So easily, it's just so..." Another shifting of weight, another grind of her hips, and she’s slowly discovering what your sweatpants is making very little to hide. "Hot."

"Is that right?" You can't take your eyes off her lips, the way they form those delicious words. Maybe you've been wrong to treat her like she's fragile, like you could hurt her if you're not careful enough. Maybe what she’s really been craving is to prove herself to you, to prove to you that she can handle you—all of you. "Tell me what you like about it."

"I like how—ah—" Her voice hitches as you let go of her waist with your hand, sliding it under her sweatshirt, running your fingers over her toned stomach, feeling it cave in a sharp inhale. "How in control you are. How strong you feel."

Even without your hand at her waist she doesn't fall—her legs simply tighten around your waist, her grip on your neck becoming more secure, more possessive. You trace her belly button with your fingertip—her breath catches, her eyes flutter shut.

"How it feels like you could do—mmm—" she continues, her words getting lost as your hand rises higher up her body, reaching the swell of her breasts. Chaewon arches her back, pushing her chest out for more, a soft mewl escaping her lips. “—could do anything to me and I wouldn't be able to stop you."

You slip your fingers under her bra, the fabric stretching to accommodate your touch, press your thumb against her nipple, feeling it pebble under your touch. You pinch and roll them lightly, basking in her reactions, the way her eyebrows furrow, the way her mouth forms a perfect 'O'.

"I can do anything I want to you."

Chaewon's eyes open, and she’s looking at you like she’s seeing someone entirely different in place of her usual, doting boyfriend. She's panting, her chest rising and falling rapidly, her cheeks a glowing shade of red that seems to spread down her neck and into the fabric of her sweatshirt. She opens her mouth, her breath coming out in short, sharp gasps, and she whispers—"Will you?"

Two simple words. Two simple words that unlock something deep inside you. Something primal. The thing inside each man since the dawn of time that drives them to hunt, kill, fuck like their lives depend on it.

Two simple words that have you leaning in and kissing her again, not just her lips—your mouth traces a fiery path along her jawline, the tender spot behind her ear, down her neck. Each kiss is a promise of what's to come, each nip of your teeth makes her shiver.

Chaewon gasps, her body writhing under your touch, her legs tightening around your waist, desperate and afraid you'll pull away. You don't. Instead, you press into her, feeling the wetness spreading through her shorts, and it takes all your self-control to not rip them off her right there.

"Bedroom," she manages to get out, a soft, fleeting whimper between kisses, "take me to the—"

You never find out the end of her sentence—twisting her body around, your hands cupping the firm, round globes of her ass, and in a single, swift motion, you lift her higher, throwing her up and over your shoulder.

"Wai—" Chaewon squeals as you hoist her up, her legs dangling in the air, has ass pointing to the sky.

She's giggling again, the sound muffled by the fabric of your sweatshirt, her laughter vibrating through your back as you carry her across the apartment.

"I can't believe you're actually doing this—" she's still giggling, managing to separate herself from your back to chide you,

"—you're so strong it's unfair—",

"—treating me like I weigh nothing—" ,

"—like a caveman—",

"—I'm going to have to tell the others about this—",

"—they won't believe it—",

"—I don't even believe it—",

"—my what a big, strong boyfriend I ha—"

But she's cut off again as you kick open the already ajar bedroom door, the wood slamming against the wall. Before she can realise what's happening you're throwing her onto the bed, her body bouncing once before she lands in a sprawled mess of limbs and exclamations.

"Are you ever going to let me finish a full sen—"

"Chae," her name comes out deeper and gruffer—far more demanding than you intended, cutting off her playful protests in an instant.

For once, Chaewon is paying full attention—no quips, no sarcasm, no laughter to lighten the mood—the room completely quiet except for the sound of her breathing, and even that seems to hush in anticipation of what's to come.

You stand over her, her legs still in the air, her body open and exposed for you—her sweatshirt riding up, revealing the smooth expanse of her stomach, the little mole you've kissed a thousand times just above her navel, her shorts stretched so tightly over her thighs.

It's in the way she's looking at you too—the way she squirms under your gaze, the way she can't help but make her body arch up towards you, pushing out those beautiful, perfect breasts, slightly parting her legs as if inviting you to dive in—wanting you to take her (to fuck her) in all the ways you wanted to but were too afraid to try before—it's all so different, all too much, all so fucking intoxicating.

"You want me to do whatever I want to you?"

Chaewon swallows hard, and nods.

"You want me to take you however I want?"

Another nod, another submission.

You step closer to the bed, your mind completely made up. "Then say it."

Her voice comes out hoarse, a strained whisper. "Take me."

"Again."

She repeats it, this time her words clearer, urgent. "Please—take me."

And with that—her shorts—those tight, far too tiny shorts—become your first victim. There's no time for slow, teasing unbuttoning or the gentle tug of fabric over skin. You're too far gone for that.

So, you rip.

The button pops off with a satisfying ping, and the material gives way, revealing her panties beneath. The sound makes Chaewon gasp, her body shiver.

Hooking your thumbs in the waistband, you drag the shorts down her legs, bringing them gliding over the soft skin of her ass, catching briefly on her thighs before you toss them to the floor.

Her panties are next—white, cotton, and oh-so-innocent looking—the kind tailor-made to be ripped off and left in shreds. But just as your hand reaches the waistband, something holds you back.

A thought—a flicker of doubt—crosses your mind. What if she doesn't like this? What if you're getting caught up and taking things too far? What if she regrets what she's about to let you do to her?

But then, "I'm okay," Chaewon says, reading your hesitation. "Stop thinking like that." Her voice is firm, almost commanding. "I want this."

"Chae—"

"I. Want. This." Chaewon repeats, her voice stronger. “I want it all.”

You trust her—you always will—and so, you nod, understanding the gravity of her words. You lean over her, capturing her gaze, making sure she sees you, really sees you. "Alright, but we need a safe word."

"A safe word." Chaewon echoes, a smile rising on her face, as she realises what a safe word means—what it enables you to do to her.

"If you want me to stop," you say, slowly, like a professor and his star pupil. "Just say..."

"Blueberry," Chaewon interjects, the corner of her mouth curling up into a mischievous smile.

"Blueberry?" It's so unfitting, so fucking adorable, so Chae. "Fine then, if you want me to stop," you begin to explain the rules of the game that you're already starting—kissing down her calf, over her knee, down that gorgeous curve of her inner thigh, until your lips are meeting cotton— "you just say 'blueberry'. As loud as you can, the second you want me to stop. Otherwise, we keep going until I'm satisfied. Got it?"

Chaewon nods eagerly, a little too eagerly, but you don't miss the glint of excitement in her eyes. She's so ready for you, so ready for what's to come next, her body vibrating with anticipation.

"Good."

The single word hangs in the air, a declaration of intent. With it, your hand moves to her panties, the cotton material damp with her arousal. You don't hesitate, you don't play it slow, again—all it takes is your thumb in her waistband and you rip. What were once her panties gives way easily, tearing with a sound that's halfway might as well be a starting pistol, revealing her bare, already glistening, already so wet pussy to the coolness of the room.

But Chaewon's not just lying there waiting for you to make your next move. No, she's not that kind of girl. She's sitting up now, her sweatshirt coming off with a flick of her wrists, the heavy garment flying through the air to land somewhere in the room, forgotten.

Her bra follows suit—quick, efficient, like she couldn't wait another second to be naked for you. Chaewon's breasts bounce free, full and firm and so fucking perfect, rosy tips hard from the cold air or maybe just from the way you're looking at her.

Fuck, the sight of her alone is almost too much. You take a moment, just to breathe her in—to admire the way the light from the bedside lamp casts shadows on her skin, highlighting the curves and valleys of her body. She's a work of art, a masterpiece, and now, she's all yours—every line, every freckle, every goosebump that pops up as the cool air kisses her heated skin.

But you're not here to admire, not now. You're here to give her exactly what she wants, to treat her exactly how she deserves.

You push her back into the bed, your hands on her shoulders, the mattress sinking under your joint weight, and you're kissing her again—no, not kissing, consuming. You kiss her like you're trying to claim her, like you're trying to brand her with your mouth, and she's kissing you back with matched desperation, her nails digging into your skin like she's trying to climb you, to get closer, closer still.

"Mmmm..." Chaewon presses herself up against you—her taut, stiff nipples pushing into your chest, perfect buds squashing themselves against your body, her bare skin gliding over your shirt, her pussy, hot and wet and slippery, working its way over the swell of your sweatpants.

Her hands are everywhere—fumbling with your shirt, running up and down your back, grabbing fistfuls of your hair—and her lips follow, peppering kisses across your cheeks, your jaw, your neck. Her teeth graze the sensitive skin just below your ear, her tongue tracing the shell, her lips whispers sweet—filthy—nothings into your ear.

She dares to move a hand lower, squeezing in some tiny gap between your two bodies, reaching for the waistband of your sweatpants, her fingers teasing the skin just above the elastic.

But you're quicker, catching her wrist, pulling it away with a firm, yet gentle grip.

"No."

You collect her other wrist in the same hand, stretching her arms out and over her head, pushing her down—with your grip, your weight, your hips—keeping her in place, keeping her where you want, paying her back in kind for her earlier “victory”.

"I know what you want," you murmur against her neck. You lean more of your weight into her, your hips pressing down, grinding against her—a slow, deliberate movement, that stains your sweatpants with the juices leaking from her pink, puffy lips.

"Yes," she purrs, "I need you."

"I know," you taunt—another grind, another groan, a deepening stain, "but I need you to want me more."

"I do," she's pleading, begging, "please, I need your cock."

"Not yet," you say, a light chuckle at the whine that escapes her lips. "Not yet."

"But—"

"I am going to fuck you," you say. "Not how you're used to." Her breath hitches, throat swallows—apprehension, arousal, adrenaline—it's all there, playing out on her face like a silent movie. "I'm going to fuck you in every way that I've ever wanted to, in every way I thought you could never handle."

You snake a hand from her waist, drawing a path with your fingertips, running them over her soft, unblemished skin, the ridges of her abs, as you move your hand down, down, until you're right at the juncture of her thighs.

"Ah!" It's the sweetest sound, a high-pitched gasp that turns into a full-throated groan as your index finger breaches her wetness, sliding into the slick, dripping opening of her cleanly shaved cunt—so, so wet—until it's buried knuckle-deep inside her.

Chaewon's back lifts off the bed, her body curving as you slide your finger in and out of her, settling into a steady rhythm. Every movement earns a different, delightful reaction—you trigger your finger: her body shakes, you kiss her neck: she echoes back your name, you add your middle, then your ring finger into her tightness: she falls apart.

"God—gah—" she chokes on whatever noise her mouth is trying to make, her legs spreading wider, hips bucking up to meet your hand, your rhythm. She's beyond soaked; her thighs, her lips, your palm—all drenched in hot, insatiable wetness. "You're so—so fucking good at this."

You add your thumb to the mix, brushing the hood of her clit with the pad; you curl your fingers inside her, finding that spot that makes her crumble.

Her eyes start to close, she’s lost to the sensation, her face contorting in beautiful agony as her walls close around your digits, before you snap her out of it—tightening your grip around her wrists, a slight jolt of pain to force her eyes to meet yours.

"Look at me," you grunt. "Look at me while I fuck you."

Chaewon doesn't dare even blink—she’s so obedient—and the way she's looking up at you now—so willing, so wanting to please, so eager for more—it's bordering on complete worship.

So, you give it to her. You plunge your fingers deeper, twisting and turning, feeling her tighten around you, her wetness coating your hand, the walls of her pussy fluttering with each stroke. You can see it in the redness of her cheeks, the trembling of her thighs, the way her stomach muscles tighten and release—she's close, she’s been so close for far too long.

"Good girl." You kiss her forehead, her nose, her dimples, something sweet amongst the depravity.

"Am I?" Chaewon's question is hopeful, so disastrously erotic, her voice a breathy whisper. There's the beginnings of a storm in her eyes, the first hints painting her features in a way that's so vulnerable, that tells you the only thing holding her back from collapsing is your explicit approval.

"Yes, Chae," you murmur against her ear, nibbling gently, your fingers melting inside her folds. "You're being such a good girl for me."

"Th-thank you," she manages shaky words, barely keeping it together, at the mercy of the quickening of your fingers, the circling of your thumb, the movements of your hand, helping her climb towards that wonderful peak. "Oh my God—how are you—how is this—so—fuck—fuck—"

"Good girls deserve a reward." You're roughly kissing into her collarbone, feeling her pulse hammering under your lips—you want to leave a mark on her body, something for her to remember this by—something to remind her how completely she came apart for you. "Cum for me—cum now—cum on my fingers. Show me how much you want it—how much you love it."

"Please," Chaewon's desperate, so desperate, trying to do something, anything, everything that she can to convince you to let her fall apart. "I love how you touch me—just—please—I’m so close—"

She’s on fire, there’s too much pressure—your fingers work inside her, undoing a knot of their own making—unravelling that slutty ache inside your girlfriend—your good girl—fucking her and stretching her, making her eyes roll to the back of her head and her mouth to drop open in a silent scream.

"So good—so fucking good—just like that—mmmm-MMMPH!"

You breathe it in—your mouth on hers, her cries dying in your throat—feeling her tighten, tense, release around your hand as her small, tight frame—her whole, amazing body—overwhelmed by just three fingers and a thumb.

It takes her like an eruption, a natural disaster—dancing along her skin, to her hips, her thighs, her ribs, her breasts—turning her into a shivering mess, leaving her limp beneath you.

"Fuh—"

You release her lips, watching her pant and quiver, her chest heave, her body spasm from the aftershocks of her climax.

Your hand is drowned in her heat, her juices sticking to your skin as you slowly draw your fingers out of her, glistening in the soft light of the room.

"Here, have a taste." You lift your hand to her face, tracing your sticky fingers along the seam of her mouth, smearing her juices over her soft, parted lips.

Chaewon's tongue darts out, welcoming your digits as you push inside her mouth. She sucks greedily, her tongue lapping your fingertips—she can't get enough of the taste of herself on you.

"Good girl," you say again, and again—she shivers.

The tremors of her orgasm start to fade, and you pull your fingers from her mouth—no longer lathered in her cum, but shiny with her spit.

You straighten, leaning back so you're on your knees, between Chaewon's spread legs. Her eyes follow your hand as it leaves her wrist, traveling up to the neck of your shirt, pulling it off your head and reuniting it with the growing pile of discarded clothing.

Her gaze wanders down, down your body, landing at your waist, at your pants, painfully stretching over your erection.

"Take it out for me, Chae," you instruct, unnecessarily—she's already there, licking her lips, quick at work. Practiced fingers pull down your sweatpants and set your cock free, letting it spring into view, hard and heavy, landing directly on her lips.

But she doesn't get the chance to take it in her mouth, to swirl her tongue around the tip and suck you like she's so clearly been dying to—you have her by the hair before she can dive on your cock, to take it down her throat. It's harsh, it's sudden, it elicits a startled groan from her throat—but it makes it clear that this is not going to be the usual 'good little girl' kind of night.

"No," is all you have for her. You're on the edge—you've been on the edge ever since she pleaded for you—you’re done with the foreplay; you're done with the teasing. Fucking Chaewon senseless. That’s all there is now—fucking her hard and fast.

You pull her up by her hair and your mouth is back on hers, pushing and pulling, tongue in her throat, tasting her—tasting her nectar on her lips—dominating her, her own tongue dancing and wrapping around yours, her teeth grazing your bottom lip.

Your other hand finds its way to her chest, squeezing her breast in your palm, feeling the weight of it, the softness of her skin, the hardened peak of her nipple against your palm. There's not enough time—you want to shove your face between them, taste her nipples, feel them roll between your teeth, give them the attention they deserve.

But instead, you're pulling back on her hair again, gritting your teeth. "Turn around. Bend over."

There's no hesitation, no protest from her—Chaewon's a good girl, and good girls do as they’re told. She rolls onto her hands and knees, her ass in the air—she's presenting herself to you: an offering, a prize, a fucking goddess on a platter. Her spine arches as she looks back at you over her shoulder, the soft curve of her cheeks begging for you to take it.

You startle her, taking her by the hips, pulling her back to you so that when you lean in, your mouth is pressed to her ear, and your cock is twitching against the waiting, wanting, folds of her lower lips. "I'm going to make you feel it," you whisper. "Every part of you, understand?"

Chaewon nods, but it's not enough—not for what you have in store.

"I don't just want a nod, I want to hear you say it. I want you to tell me how good it feels while I'm fucking you—I want to hear it all."

"O-Okay.” She’s tense, you can see it, like a coil winded up in her body, but she's eager, so fucking eager, been waiting for this for far too long—"make me scream for you—FUCK!"

Chaewon's true to her word—she shrieks as you bury yourself deep inside her, is undone by your cock—as ready and wet as she is for you, she's still so incredibly tight, needing you to stretch her, fill her, own her.

But it's not enough—you’re not going to ease her into this, to the pleasure ripping through your bodies, not going to let this moment breathe.

As soon as you've sunk into her, given her every inch that her needy little pussy could take, you're backing up, sliding your stained shaft right out of her cunt before slamming back forward.

She's crying out, making barely intelligible sounds, as you’re digging your fingers into that tiny waist, holding her by her hips as you crash into her, feeling it all—the unfathomable heat, the tightness, the wetness, the way she clenches around you with each thrust—again and again and again.

"Words, Chae," you remind her, needing more from than just the sounds of her sweet, sweet agony, and the slapping of your hips against her ass cheeks. "I want words."

"Y-yes—fuh—fuck—YES!" One-syllable noises are all that Chaewon can manage to start—all you can fuck out of her—but with each thrust, she's getting better, getting bolder. "It feels so good, so hard, so big—God, so deep—you've never—I've never been fucked like this…"

"More." It's addictive, hearing her talk like this, knowing every word that comes out of her mouth is the absolute fucking truth—the proof is in how she's shaking beneath you, how she drips around you, how her fingers claw into the sheets, trying her best to hold on. “Tell me more.”

"Y-you're going so fast—so fucking hard!" Mindless, stream-of-consciousness, fuck-drunk ramblings spill from her lips—she's begging, cooing, whimpering as you mercilessly fuck her, making her divine tits swing below her, her ass ripple with each collision. "Making me so wet—making me so fucking wet—I can't even—can't think straight—just your cock—your fucking cock!"

"This is what you wanted, isn't it Chae?" You hiss, over the sounds of the headboard slamming against the wall, the bed creaking beneath you, and her moans—oh those moans. "This is how I'm going to fuck you from now on—however I want, wherever I want, whenever I want."

"Yes-yes—this is what I want—what I fucking need. To be fucked like this—pounded—broken—so fucking sensitive." The words come so easily from her lips, straight from the pleasure centres of her brains and to your ears. "I deserve this—I've been so good—haven't I? Aren't I your good girl—please tell me I'm your good girl—please?"

"You're my good girl, Chae, you’re my perfect little slut," you acquiesce, and she cries out in relief, her body shaking under the weight of your words—she leans into your touch, your control, your cock. "And good girls get what they fucking deserve."

Another thrust has Chaewon bowing her head down to offer more of herself to you, to give you a better angle to pump her harder, deeper, laying her cheek on the bed and turning her face so you can see that blissful grin on her face, see her lips mouth your name like a prayer.

It's so perfect—she's so fucking perfect—so impossibly tight, a ridiculously wet dream of a cunt—"all yours, all yours"—so aching for you to fuck her straight into the mattress—"I can't take it"—so needy for you—"use me"—so hungry for you—"more—please—I need it."

You're giving in—giving long, intense strokes—you're consumed by it, by her, by how every lovely curve and tensed muscle of her immaculate body is doing its best to take you, to please you, to give you a fraction of the ecstasy that’s breaking her into a million tiny, euphoric pieces.

"God, I love it—love your cock—pounding me—fucking me—hurting me—I can't even think—GOD!" She's doing her best to form coherent sentences, but it's futile, she's slipping—you're not even sure if she's aware of what she's even saying anymore—it's just raw, unfiltered need.

This is going to be a problem—you're never going to be able to go back. Not when she's so needy for you—so needy to be filled by you, so needy to hear your praise as she takes your cock, so full of nothing but words of thanks for how roughly you're treating her, how you're completely ruining her—"thank you—thank you—thank you for fucking me so good."

And then you're falling, a deep, sharp thrust and you’ve sent her forward—her knees give in first, her elbows buckle. She's taking you with her, pulling you by the cock still lodged deep in her cunt. You catch yourself before your face hits the bed, one hand on the mattress, the other still wrapped around her waist.

It does little to slow you down—just gives you a better vantage point to fuck her deeper into the mattress—"yes—yes—fuck—fuck—" —to run your hand up her body and seize her by her tits, so ripe and full and yours to squeeze and twist and tease— "touch me—hurt me—it's all yours—all fucking yours."

And you do—oh, you do—you take her by the tits, feeling the soft flesh of her breasts give way to your grip, roll her nipple between your thumb and forefinger—so sensitive, so responsive. She's lost in it, so happy in the pain and pleasure of your touch—you're leaving another mark—and she cries, she curses, she clenches around you, she joins her hand over yours and pushes you for more, needing more of the loving sting you're giving her.

She’s pulsing on your shaft—walls tightening and quivering—she's so close, so fucking close to cumming—and your body responds, your cock thickens, your strokes powerful, purposeful. "I can't—I can't—baby, please—please—please—"

"You're going to cum for me now, aren't you?" You ask, like it's a question, like you can't see the tension building in her body, can’t see how she's holding her breath and gritting her teeth—it's so fucking obvious she's about to explode.

"Yes—yes—I'm about to—about to—FUCK! I can't fucking take this anymore!"

You take her by the throat—twisting her face so you can see it—you need to see it—need to see the moment she breaks for you. "Look at me," you demand—her eyes rolling up to meet yours, all teary and flawless and beautiful— "look at me when I make you cum."

"God yesssss," Chaewon gurgles, shivers, quakes, "please—please—I'm cumming—I'm cumming— I'm cumming on your fucking cock—OH FUCK!"

Your name leaves her lips in a long, symphonic, slurred cry—and she cums—not in that lovely, beautiful way you've seen her orgasm dozens of times before—this is overpowering, consuming, violent—a million tiny deaths—one magnum opus—sculpted by the Gods and utterly ruined in all ways possible, reduced once again to nothing but a mess of quivers and mewls and moans—pushed over the edge by your cock, forcing her to gush down her thighs.

She's clenching and wringing and doing everything she can to bring you with her—"God—so fucking good—I’m cumming so hard—GOD! I just need—I want it—please give it—give me your cum—fill me with it—do whatever you want to me just give it to me!"

Her eyes are open again—she's inflicted with the same curse as you—she needs to see it, see the look in your eyes as you fill her, finally claim her in her entirety as yours, finally join and become undone in the same preciously brutal ways.

"Keeeep going—cum in me—cum in me—" It’s becoming a mantra now—three short words—as if there was any other option, as if she had any choice. As much as you want to hold on, to drag this out, to savour every second of this chaos—fucking her silly, viciously, tight pussy choking your cock, she won't stop, refuses to— "cum in me—cum in me—cum in me -"

"You want it? You need it? Does your cunt need my cum?"

"Y-yes, please—fuck—fill me up—fuck me up—fill—me—fucking—PLEASE!"

She's a vision, a goddess, she's yours, she's—"Fuck, Chae, god-fucking-take-it!"—she's taking your cum like the fucking slut she is.

God, it feels dizzying, a high so perfect it must be illegal, making your vision dark and your ears ring—the only thing tethering you to the Earth itself is the feeling of her burning hot cunt, the cunt you're fucking like its only purpose in this world is to make your cock feel good.

You’re speeding towards the final stretch now—hard and rough and somehow lasting forever but ending far too soon. Nothing matters except for her exceptionally tight hole, taking you—all of you, everything you have—and you’re clinging onto her—her tits, her throat—you’re bruising and choking her, your body crushing her into the bed, and she's still screaming your fucking name like she's so damn grateful to you for treating her like she deserves.

And then, you let go.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck, baby, oh my fucking God," Chaewon groans, "It's so much—you're filling me up— oh, fuck, oh, fuck, OH FUCK!"

It’s a car crash, a pressure valve opening, it’s too fucking much—you can’t hold back—she can’t possibly take anymore.

It burns through you both—the first, the second, the third—rope after rope after rope of cum firing into her sore, well-fucked cunt, filling it completely to the brim. All the lust, all the tension, everything, all at once, released at once in a tidal wave of white into Chaewon's swollen, sopping wet pussy.

“SO GOOD—SO FUCKING FULL!”

One final thrust—one shared cry—like nothing you’ve ever felt before—like you’re being torn apart and reassembled, piece by piece—and you collapse into her, your bodies melting into one— boneless and shaking in the aftermath of it all.

Chaewon’s cumdump of a pussy is still twitching around you—still begging for more, milking your cock even though it’s already given everything it can, every drop it has—making it impossible for you to pull out without feeling like you're leaving a part of yourself behind.

Eventually—when the numbness subsides and you're able to move again—you slide off her, onto your side, slipping your spent cock out of her well-fucked pussy. It's an image that you burn into core of your brain—her ass in the air, your cum dripping from her, the puddle of you leaking from her glistening folds and pooling on your ruined bedsheets.

"So good... so good..." Chaewon's slurring, drifting—fucked out of consciousness—already lost in some blissful, post-orgasmic dream.

That's where you follow her, exhaustion seeping into every bone in your body, and you're slipping down, down and away into that heavenly oblivion.

When you awake, Chaewon's curled into you—your chest is her pillow, your arms her blanket. She's still (thankfully) naked—your cum drying on her thighs, and she's awake, lazily drawing circles with her finger around your heartbeat.

"Hey," you say, kissing the top of her head, getting her attention.

She looks up at you—God, she's so fucking beautiful—a soft smile on her lips. "Hi."

"That was..." You dare to start, but the words catch in your throat.

"Perfect," Chaewon finishes for you, "so fucking perfect."

"Are you sure? I got lost in the moment there, Chae, I—" The ghost of an apology is on your lips, but Chaewon's eyes widen, and she slaps a hand over your mouth.

"Don't," Chaewon stops you, "don't ruin it with an apology. I wanted that. Needed it. More than I thought, I guess. It was amazing."

You look down at her, so small in your arms, searching her face for any hint of doubt or regret, but all you can find is perfect contentment.

And she's smiling, so sweetly, so happily. So Chaewon. The slutty cum dumpster, the adorable princess—the woman of your dreams.

She’s giggling still, tracing wider patterns on your chest, her breath warm against your skin. "You were incredible," she presses her nose into your neck and inhales deeply. "I never knew you had that in you."

"I didn't either," you admit, stroking her hair, looping strands between your fingers. "I had no idea how much I'd like it—how good it would feel. I mean I love getting to hold you like this—hugging you and kissing you, but—"

"It's nice to not have to treat me like I'm made of glass, isn't it?" She finishes. A beat passes, before Chaewon tables her final request. "You know, that thing you called me, while we were..."

Her voice trails off, and she's blushing now—the kind of blush that makes you want to kiss her, kiss it off her cheeks, kiss her until she's blushing all over again. "I think I called you a lot of things that probably shouldn't be repeated outside of this room." You say, and she’s laughing, slapping your chest lightly.

"You know what I'm talking about," she says. "Call me it again. Please? Can you?"

You laugh, bending down so you can steal a kiss—as light and sweet as she is—but it’s still far, far shorter than you'd like.

She's pouting, doe-eyes wide and hopeful—so Goddamn adorable—and you can't resist, after all—it's always best to give your girlfriend exactly what she wants.

"My good girl," you murmur into her ear, "my perfect little slut."

#kpop smut #chaewon smut #le sserafim smut #male reader

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kasagia · 6 months

Text

Right hand II

Pairing: Na-Baron Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x fem!exBeneGesserit! reader Summary: After you miraculously escaped from his arms the other night, you tried to stay away from him as best as you could. You have to put a lot of effort into escaping from the na-baron, who is tirelessly and constantly chasing you, or into avoiding another invitation to his chambers late at night. However, on Arrakis, the situation between you changes drastically... And you're losing control over your life, and it's not because of Feyd. Warning: 18+; violence; blood; Feyd Rautha; death; fight; brutality; smut; Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen's Masterlist ~•♤♤♤•~ Main Masterlist ~•♤♤♤•~ PART I ~•♤♤♤•~ PART III ~•♤♤♤•~

You are standing in front of the window of the ship that is taking you to Arrakis. You nervously play with the edge of the shawl that covers your head. You don't have good memories of that planet. Before you escaped with Feyd, the Bene Gesserit sent several of their young apprentices to… train in the sands of Dune. Including you.

You still remember the screams of some of your companions who went crazy from a lack of water and decided to end their lives. And sometimes at night you dream that the sandworm swallows half of your group, leaving you practically on your own.

Arrakis didn't just kill your friends. It killed any belief in the Bene Gesserit in you, only confirming that you would rather die than be completely subject to them.

And now you're going back there with someone who had full control over your life again. It's funny how history likes to come full circle. And how, despite their repetition, people still fall for tricks and fall into fate's traps, acting in exactly the same way.

A cold hand on your bare shoulder snaps you out of your stupor. You act fully automatically,drawing the dagger attached to your belt and twisting the attacker's arm. You pin him to the wall, placing the blade against his pale neck. You freeze as your eyes meet Feyd's icy blue gaze.

"Good reflex. If you were anyone else, I'd kill you for this, but I'm in a particularly good mood today, so I won't punish you as I would like. What were you thinking about, my little witch, that you didn't hear me sneaking up on you? Or maybe I have finally surpassed the master?" He asks with a mocking smirk, showing off his black teeth. You snort, shaking your head at him.

"Keep dreaming." You say, taking advantage of his amusement. This time, you are not keeping your mouth shut for fear that he will deprive you of your tongue for your boldness towards him. You move away from him, which he takes with clear displeasure, and return to your place by the window.

"If I dream about you, I prefer to dream about something much more pleasant." He wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you into his chest. He slides your shawl off your head with his teeth and nuzzles his nose into your hair, inhaling your scent.

You feel him sigh deeply, leaning against you a little as he relaxes into your scent and closeness. You frown, but let him hold you because you feel calmer having him close to you. Despite everything that had happened in the past two weeks, you still found his presence reassuring. It didn't make any sense to you, but apparently, over the years, you had begun to involuntarily associate him with something akin to a safe shelter. Herkonnen. A psychopathic, bloodthirsty future baron. How ironic…

However, being in his arms helped you come to the conclusion that the demons of the past should remain in the past. And you should focus on the newest one that is now wrapped around you.

You stare at your reflection in the glass, shuddering as his scent surrounds you, mixed with the blood that stains his uniform. You wonder which soldier you will have to find a replacement for this time.

"What were you thinking about?" He whispers that he doesn't loosen his grip on you even for a moment, knowing full well that the moment he does, you'll wriggle out of his arms and find another excuse to leave him.

You checked the condition of engines and fuel 8 times. He started counting after the ship's captain complained to him about your constant presence. He beheaded him without giving him the opportunity to complete his complaint against you. Feyd smiles, remembering the irritated frown on your forehead when you had to clean up his mess. Of course he followed you then. Of course, 'just to make sure that the next captain you appoint will be more competent'.

"It doesn't matter." You sigh, resting your head on his shoulder. He would enjoy your submission and willing closeness if he didn't see that, by doing so, you only wanted to distract him from the main topic. Clever little witch you were…

"It must be important if you stopped paying attention to your surroundings. You are always alert and aware of the things that happen around you. No matter what. I remember how, during one of our escapades, you were the only one who didn't fall into the trap."

"Well, that one was actually obvious." You say it with a mocking smile, remembering how you had to save him and his soldiers.

For the rest of your life, you will never forget how you had to dig Baron Feyd-Rauth Harkonnen out of the mud and save his ass from the Assassins who planned his execution. Of course, he killed any witnesses, leaving only you and him alive. After all, his uncle and brother couldn't find out about it.

He growls in your ear, tightening his grip on you as a warning, when you make him replay that day in his head.

"Don't brag now. I was… busy observing something much more interesting than muddy swamps." He grumbles, burying his face in the crook of your neck. The warm air he exhales makes you shiver.

"Which was?" You ask shakily, placing your hands over his to stop him from roaming them over your body.

"You." His answer is short and simple, as if it were the most obvious thing you should know. He doesn't hide it anymore; he doesn't keep his desire to himself. He wants you. He craves you. He shows it to you so clearly and thoroughly that you laugh at how naive you were to believe that you had only a friendly, platonic relationship. But how could you not believe that he only saw you as a means to an end when he treated everyone else around him like that? Since he treats people like things to play with and break whenever he wants? How could you have predicted that you would become his obsession, a precious jewel in his collection that he would want to protect and have just for himself? "I'm asking for the last time. What were you thinking about, little witch?" He asks, wrapping his hand around your neck and forcing you to look into his eyes.

You have no escape from him now. And you certainly won't tell him that lately you've been thinking more and more often about how to run away from him, or what would happen if you stayed with the Bene Gesserit, or how your life would have looked if you escaped from them on your own. You wonder if it wouldn't have been better to bury yourself in the sands of Arrakis all those years ago with your friends and die there. You are sure that it would be a much more dignified death.

"I... I thought about Arrakis." You decide to respond safely and carefully, so as not to reveal too much to him. You didn't want him to become suspicious of you. Not when you had to handle him carefully, lest you fulfil any of the Bene Gesserit's sick plans and visions.

"So what about this? Are you scared?"

"No. I am not. I'm never afraid. Fear is the mindkiller. Fear is the little death that brings total obliteration." You repeat the mantra automatically without thinking much about it.

You flinch as you realise that you are answering quickly with the Bene Gesserit litany of fear, which they've made you learn by heart. A great deal of anger grows within you as you realise how much they have influenced your life, even so many years after you ran away from them.

"You're quite tense. More than when I usually hold you." He points this out, starting to gently stroke your back in an attempt to relax you. You give him an angry look instead, suddenly understanding why he was irritated with you for reading him and his emotions perfectly when he was the one who was flustered and furious.

It was always easier for you than for him to hit sensitive places or to read the other one like an open book. Apparently, you're not the only one who's learned this over the years. He knew you as well as the back of his hand. He just never showed any trace of concern for your well-being.

You had your… tender moments when you allowed yourselves to be vulnerable with each other once or twice, but you both treated them more as minor lapses in maintaining your impenetrable façade of indifference and neutrality. In the end, everyone is on their own. And looking for a friend in him was a completely stupid thing—an act of true naivety and a sign of self-destruction, maybe even masochism.

"Maybe you shouldn't hold me at all, then?" You growl at him furiously, unable to control yourself. He just frowns, more surprised by your behaviour than offended by this blatant act of disrespect. He had rarely seen you so nervous or furious.

Of the two of you, you were the one who was the most calm and composed. You were always able to hide all your emotions behind a mask of indifference. He's fascinated by how you really behave when you don't have a filter on. He often throws you off your balance only to see your cheeks flush with anger; you take out your anger in a fight (just like him); or you bite your lip to avoid saying something back to his taunts.

"Or maybe you should drop your attitude and just let me do it?" He asks, his lips brushing against your earlobe. He doesn't wait for your response; he simply catches the tip of your ear between his teeth. He bites in gently, sucking and caressing your skin with his lips, as if your ear's superior helix were the sweetest delicacy he could enjoy.

"I'm not fighting or trying to escape, am I?" You respond, enduring his treatment with dignity. At the ship's window, you can see a small smile appear on his lips at your words.

He decides to pull away from you, but he is not giving you even the smallest chance to run away from him. He presses you against the cold glass, entering your personal space even more than when he had you close against his chest. You lift your chin, looking at him defiantly as he puts his hands on your hips.

"You are not. But you also don't want to be here in my arms." He replies, cupping your chin with two fingers. He leans closer, making you feel the metallic scent of blood that still lingers on him, probably from his fight with some prisoners on the ship. "And I don't like it at all." He whispers hoarsely into your ear.

"Since when do you care what others want? I don't remember you spoiling your concubines like that." You snap, causing him to laugh mockingly and shaking his head in amusement.

He leans in, making you tense up slightly. You think he's doing it to kiss you, but instead of feeling his lips on yours, you feel his cheek brush against yours, and his lips blow hot air into your ear again as he whispers softly:

"Because they weren't you, Y/N." You shiver at the sound of his dark, hoarse whisper in your ear. You can't say you don't feel the effects of his... seduction. But you promised yourself long ago that you wouldn't be any man's whore, concubine, plaything, or broodmare. And certainly not HIS. No matter how... tempting he could be.

"And what is so special about me? Hm? My body? My appearance? That I can fight well? You would get bored of me. Like you did with all your concubines."

"Did they understand me like you do? Have you ever seen them look at me as anything other than a wild, bloodless beast in the heat?" He answers your angry questions with his, dismissing your attempt to start a verbal fight with him.

His thumb traces the line of your jaw, examining you closely. Looking into his light blue eyes makes you feel uncomfortable. He shouldn't have reacted to you like that. You weren't used to anything he had been doing these past few weeks. You preferred to fight him than... when he showed you so much tenderness, appreciation, and affection.

"Have I ever looked at you differently?" You ask defiantly. He smiles, licking his plump lips. You give in to this provocation, and, without controlling it at all, you move your gaze to his lips. His dark chuckle makes you look back into his eyes.

"Yes. Yes, you did that... you don't even know how often." He hums, his fingertips moving towards your mouth. He caresses your lips with incredible tenderness and delicacy. He presses on them gently, but you squeeze them as tight as you can, preventing him from doing anything he planned.

You react faster than him. You bite his wandering fingers, take advantage of the fact that he is still trying to process what has just happened, and quickly pull away from him. He laughs, shaking his head, looking at you intently as he deliberately crosses the distance between you two. He doesn't have to say anything for you to see how clearly he's mocking you and daring you to continue to defy him.

"We're not even on Arrakis yet, and you're already delusional, my na-Baron? Or maybe the black sun of Giedi Prime made you start seeing a mirage?"

"If you are a mirage or an illusion, then I never want to be sane again, my little witch." You gasp, as he wraps his arms around you tightly, clinging to you completely. He leans in, his nose tracing a line along your temple, inhaling your scent before burying his face in your hair.

He keeps a firm grip on your shoulders. You place your hands on his, trying to loosen his tight grasp somehow, but it only makes him hold you tighter. He tilts his head slightly and brushes his nose against yours.

You shiver, feeling how close he is and how his musky smell, mixed with a hint of metallic blood, surrounds you. He presses himself against you so tightly that there's practically no space left between your bodies. You close your eyes, letting out a small, shaky breath. And just as he's about to press his lips against yours, the metal door to the room slides open with a loud bang.

You jump away from him, grunting as a young recruit enters your field of vision.

“My lord na-Baron. Lady Y/N. We will land in fifteen minutes."

"We would rather notice it ourselves." Feyd growls at him. You see him reach for the hidden dagger. You walk over to him, resting your chest against his back, and grab his hand before he places it on his dagger and throws it at the poor man.

"Thank you, Oliver." You say with a smile. The man swallows in fear at Feyd's furious glare. He bows and leaves the two of you alone.

You step away from Feyd, letting go of his hand. You frown, seeing that he's even more furious than when one of the soldiers entered. You raise your eyebrow questioningly, not understanding why he's practically huffing in anger now.

"What?" You finally ask him, not understanding the reason behind his behaviour.

"Oliver... do you call all of them by their names?" He asks, spitting out the soldier's name in disgust. You sigh, rolling your eyes as you reach for the shawl he had thrown off you and put it back on your head.

"If I know them, then yes, why?"

"You've never called me anything other than my lord and na-baron." He speaks in an almost accusatory tone. It takes a lot of strength in you not to burst out laughing when you realize he's completely serious and not joking right now. You try to come up with some excuse, wondering how to safely answer his question.

"And you always call me your little witch." You answer. Using his name somehow never felt right to you. At first, out of respect for him, maybe even fear. After all, he saved you from the clutches of the Bene Gesserit. Calling him by his name was out of the question. With time, you did it out of habit. And now… now you didn't want to call him by anything else because you knew that it would be a small step on his way to make you his.

"So this is supposed to be our thing?" He asks with a challenging, teasing smile.

"We don't have a thing." You huff, walking towards the exit. He, of course, follows you faithfully. You can feel the excitement radiating from him. He was definitely planning something big to do on Arrakis. Something he didn't tell you. You just hoped that he would be too busy with his brother and securing the spice mine to take care of you at the same time.

"Don't we?"

"You should focus on what you tell your brother. You're finally taking the reins. Rabban won't give them to you that easily. And we need to establish a final plan of action on Arrakis." You say, returning to your matter-of-fact, cool tone. He smiles, nodding.

"Don't worry about that… I'll make him kiss our shoes." You snort, shaking your head in amusement at his words. It might be true, but it's still hard for you to imagine him actually putting this plan into action. As you'll see in a few minutes, he actually intended to do that. "And the plan was decided a long time ago. I told you I wouldn't let us split up. And not because I question your leadership skills or loyalty. You are the only competent and worthy person to lead half of my army. But we, little witch, work together. Always. You don't change something that works perfectly. Get ready. We're landing soon." He leaves you with a quick kiss on your temple.

He walks away from you with a sly smirk, as if he's managed to trick you. You sigh as you watch him walk out of sight, walking with a spring in his step towards his room, probably to grab his things and get his harpies ready to leave.

You look out the ship's window at Arrakis for the last time. You close your eyes, promising yourself that since the Bene Gesserit, Feyd Rautha, Giedi Prime, or the Harkonens hadn't killed you, this damn planet wouldn't do this either. You weren't the same Y/N from 10 years ago. You were more powerful. Your bones won't sink into the sands of this damn dune... you'd even rather become the mother of that Kwisatz Haderach.

You practically jump out of bed with your heart beating fast as you wake up from another nightmare. You sigh shakily, pressing your hand to your mouth, trying to calm your breathing as best as you can as your heart pounds frantically against your chest.

The screams of your companions echo in your ears, and the images of the Fremen pumping the water out of them replay in your head. And that damned sandworm...

“Y/N, look at me.” His cool hands on your bare shoulders and his raspy, commanding tone bring you back to reality.

As soon as you look into Feyd Rautha's blue irises, you stop trembling. You snap out of this strange trance, trying your best to forget about the returning memories that haunted you more often during this week of your stay on Caladan. You suspect that this may have resulted in a rather close relationship with Lady Jessica. You breathe slowly, focusing on his pale skin that looks like snow, illuminated by the moonlight that streams through the window of one of the Caladan's inns.

“Breathe in and out.” He gives you another order. You nod, imitating the pace of his slow breathing as you slowly begin to calm down. "I will kill that witch as soon as I get my hands on her." He growls, brushing your sweaty hair away from your forehead with his hand. You see immense anger in his eyes and the seeds of a plan forming in his head as he thinks of many ways to make that Bene Gesserit pay for your nightmares.

"You can't. She's the prince's mother. Besides, it's not her fault that she recognised me from somewhere. I could have been more careful."

"You covered your face with a mask for an entire week, all the time, even to sleep. What can you call that other than being careful? Besides, the baron knew that these negotiations were doomed to failure anyway. It's not like her suspicions ruined them. I would have decided to leave this damned palace even without it." He assures you, slowly lowering the two of you back onto the mattress. He wraps one arm around you, his tight embrace grounding you in the moment and helping your mind focus entirely on the present rather than the dark memories from your past.

"The Baron will be furious with you. It's all my fault. You should have killed me." You say, focusing your gaze on his daggers, which are strapped to his hip. Feyd follows your gaze and snorts. He grabs your neck, forcing you to lift your head and look into his eyes again.

"And get rid of the only competent right hand I've had in years? I'd rather suffer his punishment for this... small act of disrespect towards the Atreides. And who knows? Maybe he'll even like it? Harkonnen chooses inns over Atreides' palaces. I can always say that I saw rats running freely around my chamber and decided that such conditions are not worthy of a na-Baron and they are an insult to my person that I could not allow them to do." You roll your eyes at him, but you can't help but smirk at him.

Feyd finds himself smiling slightly at the sparkle of amusement in your eyes. He decided he preferred seeing them in your eyes rather than the emptiness and terror that didn't even let you breathe normally. He reveled in the fear of others. But yours brought him more pain than joy. Unpleasant pain.

It was starting to worry him. And maybe he would think about it more if you weren't lying so close to him now, practically in his arms. At his fingertips if he wanted to play with you. But, surprisingly, he didn't. And even if so, he wanted it only if you were as desperate for his touch as he was for yours.

"There are also rats on Giedi Prime. And you have to share a room with me because there's not enough space here for all of us. I'm sure your harpies are furious. You'd probably rather do something else with them, too, than hold me through my nightmares like some scared little child." You tease him, snapping him from his thoughts. He looks at you carefully, admiring the way the beads of sweat on your forehead glisten in the moonlight.

He feels a strange, new desire to make them be caused by him... or rather, by the activity he would subject you to. His gaze returns to your eyes and your lips, and he feels himself harden slightly as his thoughts turn to fantasies about you—something he's been doing a lot more of lately. One of his harpies mentioned something about him moaning your name...

"Maybe you actually deserve this punishment? Such sharp language…" He whispers huskily, tracing the line of your jaw with the pad of his thumb. He watches you carefully, and, as usual, he sees no fear in your eyes. Even when his fingers travel to your neck and then to the fabric of your nightgown, imagine how close he is to touching what you hide from him and everyone else behind your outfits designed to fit you into staying in the shadows and fighting. If he could, he would dress you in the most beautiful silks and jewellery so that he could feast his eyes on the only beautiful view of Giedi Prime. You see a crease form on his forehead as he becomes aware of this strange desire. He removes his hand before he goes too far to come back, and he clears his throat as he focuses his gaze on your eyes again. "What was that? That dream?"

"I... I don't want to talk about it." Feyd feels how you tense up just thinking about your nightmare. If it was anyone else, he wouldn't care. He wouldn't spare a thought or, if he was curious enough, force them to talk. But with you... he just nods and gives you space, turning to lay on his side of the bed.

"Feyd..." His heart beats faster after you use his name for the first time. He turns to your side of the bed so he can fully look at you. He hums, pretending that you're not giving him a heart attack and that he's not replaying the soft, gentle tone with which you said his name in his head. And he wants to hear it again. In many ways. A quiet whisper, a cry, a scream of pleasure as he makes you come... "I... can you..."'

He doesn't wait for you to ask him. And he could. He could make you beg for him to bring you the comfort you need or mock you for being so defenceless and scared, but how can he make you do that when you look at him with those doe eyes? How can he do anything other than pull you into his chest, place his hand on your head, and play with your hair, guiding your face into the crook of his neck as you look at him like no one has ever done before?

He wasn't the type of man you turned to for comfort or solace, and yet here you were, lying next to him, just wanting to feel his safe embrace around you again. He smiles when he feels your breathing and pulse slow as you fall asleep against him, allowing him to be with you in your unconscious state. He could do many things to you. He could slit your throat, stab you in the heart, scalp you of all your beautiful hair, and touch and taste any part of you he wanted. Satisfy himself with you and give yourself to his concubines when he ends using you.

But all he can do, as you sleep so peacefully on his chest, is pull the covers tighter around you and place a gentle kiss on your head. He doesn't remember the last time he felt such peace or the last time he felt wanted—not because of his status or the benefits he could bring to someone, but simply because someone wanted to be close to HIM.

"After all… I guess Caladan isn't that bad, my little witch." He whispers, pressing a kiss on the top of your head.

Feyd liked to think that the moment you first said his name and clung to him after the nightmare for comfort and security (IN HIM) was the moment he fell for you. But the truth was that it was a day later, after his uncle had punished him, inflicting various wounds with a blade on him, that you returned to the Giedi Prime without the expected agreement with Atreides. And, of course, he didn't rat you out. He took the blame. After all, it was his fault. He put your well-being above anything else and ordered to leave Caladan when Lady Jessica became too attentive to you. And he would do it again. He couldn't lose his right hand.

You felt guilty and took care of him. And those few days when you played the role of his nurse were the best ones in his life.

Feyd learned to love pain. Numerous punishments made it impossible for him not to do that. But he loved your gentle touch even more, esepcially when you tried your best to heal him. And he could get a thousand cuts or even more if it was the price of feeling your tender, caring touch on his skin once again.

And lying there with a torn back, looking at your sleeping form next to his bed, ready to meet his every little wish; he promised himself that he would do it. He will feel your hands on his body again. In better, less bloody circumstances. And definitely not with worry staining your beautiful eyes. But desire. Passion. Affection. Maybe even love.

"Uncomfortable, my lord?" You mock him with a little smirk as you both lie on the sand, observing the surroundings.

"Shut up, or I'll put you over my knee." You huff, shaking your head at his words. You know it's the last thing he'll actually do at this point. You use your binoculars to zoom in on a specific sand dune, in the middle of which there should be a Fremen base.

"Someone woke up with his left foot. I thought you'd be more enthusiastic about the upcoming fight." You say, trying to spot any movement, silhouette, or anything that indicates that your informant was right, and this is the place where one of the more important sietches are.

"I am. But it's damn hot here. Besides, sand gets in where it shouldn't." You smile, barely holding back your laughter, as Feyd allows himself to grumble next to you. You squeal in shock as he spanks you. You look away from the dune and give him an offended, shocked look when he chuckles hoarsely at your reaction.

"You're lucky that it's just a desert and that you're not dressed all in black like our soldiers. If this shipment of new equipment, weapons, and uniforms does not arrive this week, I will return to Giedi Prime and slaughter these useless scientists and engineers. Besides, your harpies will probably be more than happy to help you get rid of every little grain of sand from your body."

"Jealous?" He asks as you go back to watching the dunes.

"I wouldn't willingly be around these cannibals even if you paid me." You say, ignoring the fact that he was clearly asking if you were jealous of HIM, not the fact that he has his concubines and you don't. You shiver, feeling his piercing, burning gaze on you.

You're a little annoyed that he's doing practically nothing. Apparently, he too must have felt the effects of spending many weeks in that damn desert, and he had enough. Just like all of you.

"Arrakis brings out your more feisty side… I like it." He takes the binoculars from you and looks in a completely different direction. You snort, trying to see what caught his eye. You frown as you see a sandworm scurrying in the distance. But it wasn't under the sand... "Tell squad six to kill it. Those rats must be moving around again."

"Will you waste the bomb on a sandworm?"

"Only the most important Fremen travel like this. Whoever's on the back of this is not just anyone." You nod. You turn on the communicator and share information with the group, giving them the orders. You feel Feyd's eyes focused on you all the time. You roll your eyes and shift your gaze to his as he continues to stare at you curiously.

"What?"

"You've been here before, right? You may not know the ways of the Fremen, but I can see in your eyes that this planet is no stranger to you."

"The Bene Gesserit prepared us for every circumstance." You answered him deceptively. However, this does not quench his curiosity. And you know that since you're doomed to wait here for a good hour before anything happens, you're doomed to keep him entertained.

"Did they send you to Giedi Prime too?"

"No. But I was often send to Caladan." You say, not realizing how bad a move it was. The wrinkle on his forehead and the gentle tightening of his hand on his blades prove to you what an idiot you are. But you can't keep an eye on the dunes and anticipate his mood swings at the same time. Which he's had quite a lot of since you came to Arrakis. He didn't show it to anyone else, but you could see that the heat was bothering him just as much as it was for all of you.

"Why? Breeding program? Don't tell me you were supposed to be Atreides' pet." He spit out from his mouth the names of the people who were his family's greatest nemeses, as if it were some kind of dead poison. Even though the Atreides were long dead, buried in the sands of Arrakis, he still talked about them with huge hostility.

No. I was supposed to be your pet.

"I don't know." You slide off the sand to get out of sight of your possible opponents. There's no point in observing the area now. You know that your best men and their troops are positioned around you, so you could have left them to make the first attack. For now, you had to defuse a bomb that was about to explode next to you.

"You don't talk about it often. About the Bene Gesserit." He pursues the topic further, following in your footsteps. You both are standing on a small ledge, with your backs pressed against a sandstone. You don't have much space, so you have to rest your arm on his so as not to fall down and crash into the rocks below you.

"I don't want to remember it. I have another life now. Better one." You say, fiddling with your communicator. You issue a surveillance order to the rest of your units and turn it off, waiting for them to notice something. You take the shawl off your head and wipe your sweaty forehead with it.

"I won't let them hurt you again. Or anyone else." You freeze for a moment at his words. All you can do is stare at him in shock as he reaches for your face and grabs your hair. He ties them awkwardly, making sure they don't get in your face. It's a sweet gesture... even too sweet for him. And you wonder how the hell he knows how to tie someone's hair back.

You are about to tie your shawl around your forehead again when Feyd suddenly takes it from you. He wipes the back of your neck and makes sure there isn't a single bead of sweat on your face before he ties your shawl around his wrist.

"Who said they hurt me?" You ask, swallowing. You try to hide the tremble in your voice, but you suddenly become very aware of how close you are to each other. And that you two are completely alone...

"Your eyes and actions tell me more than you can let through your mouth, little witch."

"Shut up, or I'll put you over my knee." You respond with what he told you earlier without thinking much about it.

You gasp in shock as he presses you against the sandstone behind you, guiding the two of you deeper. His dilated pupils, slightly clenched jaw, and rapid breathing confirm how fucked up you are. You've lost your damn guard. Again. And now he will use it to his advantage.

"Oh, my darling little witch… you don't know how much I want you to do this…" He growls in your ear. His nose traces a path from your hair to your neck, inhaling your scent. You shiver as his lips brush against your neck.

"What are you doing?" You moan as he sucks your neck and bites it lightly, leaving a hickey there. He moves his head away from you and looks at the trail he created. He hums lightly, planning where to leave the next one. And another one. And another. And another...

"Shhh... We have a few minutes before they stop bombarding them. Another few before the dust settles and before we enter those rats' canals... let me make sure that my right hand is properly relaxed in the meantime."

As usual, he doesn't give you time to respond. He leans down and captures your lips in a passionate kiss. His chapped lips brush against yours, gently urging you to open your mouth for him. You try to tighten them as best you can, but he somehow manages to bite your lip, which makes him immediately clear the way for his tongue.

You gasp as his hands cup your ass. His fingers dig into your flesh, and you know that if it weren't for the thick tactical suit, it would have left bruises in the shape of his fingers. He picks you up without breaking the kiss and presses you against the stone-sand wall of the small cave.

You moan as his bulge rubs against your clothed core. You dig your fingers into his shoulders, holding yourself up as he peppers your neck with hickeys, grinding against you.

On Giedi Prime, you would struggle with him, trying to break free from his grip. But here, while you've been busy planning, tracking, fighting, and increasing your spice production for the last few weeks, you haven't had any opportunity... to take care of yourself. He wasn't helping either, following you around and acting like a fucking guard dog. And from what you heard from your room next to his in the night, he wasn't denying himself anything. Damn bastard.

What you didn't know was that he was fucking his fist thinking about you all this time because, since the two of you shared a bath, none of his concubines have been able to please him. So he's just as desperate as you are.

You moan as he thrusts into you, especially hard. He also purrs against your neck at the sounds you make. You're well aware that if it didn't take you forever to put your clothes back on, he'd already have you naked beneath him, fucking you wildly and giving you orgasm after orgasm... and you almost want to let him. If only those fucking witches weren't planning on breeding you with him, you would have been riding him wild a long time ago.

At one point, he bites into your neck, making you scream uncontrollably. You blush furiously when he pulls away from your neck with your blood on his full lips and gives you a hungry, lustful look.

"Take off your pants." He orders you. He licks the blood from his lips and leans down to lick the rest from your neck, leaving a few more hickeys on it.

"We… can't… we... battle..." He suddenly stops making any movements, but instead of moving away from you, as you think he will, he grabs you tightly by the throat. He squeezes lightly and leans forward, resting his forehead against yours. He breathes deeply and heavily, nuzzling his nose against yours before opening his eyes to fix his wide pupils on yours.

"Are you defying me?" You shake your head, always being a good soldier. "Good girl. Pants down, or I'll rip them off, and you'll have to walk back to the base without them."

This is a very real threat. And even though you know he would rather kill any man who dares to look at you in this state than expose you to the… lust of the hundreds of men who were on the base, you have no desire to parade around Arrakis with your bare ass. You start to take off your pants, slowly unbuttoning them. He won't even let you take them off of you all the way. As soon as he sees your exposed pussy, he drops to his knees in front of you, holding your hips in a tight grip.

"She blocks me so much when she has a damn spring between her legs… a real desert oasis…" He mumbles, his fingers collecting your wetness. You gasp as he looks you straight in the eye, sucking your juices from his finger. You lick your lips unconsciously, your brain completely stunned by the suddenness of the situation, the lust overwhelming you, the sight of him on his knees for you, as well as the spice in the air.

You don't even protest when he licks the stripe of your pussy and tightens his grip on your hips, pressing his face against your crotch. As he begins to lick and suck on your more sensitive parts, you scratch his scalp with your nails in a vain attempt to grab something. His dark, raspy chuckle against your clit makes you even wetter, as the vibrations and fingers teasing your entrance only fuel your desire.

He eats you like he's really dying of thirst. He brings out in you sounds that you would be ashamed of if you were in a better, saner, more aware state. And you try to maintain the last of your dignity and stifle your moans by placing a hand over your mouth, but he growls in protest and removes your hands so quickly that you have no idea when it happened. He places it on his shoulder, encouraging you to dig your nails into him as he devours you like his life depends on it. Like he would die if he didn't make you cum, lick up every last bit of wetness from between your legs.

At one point, he puts your leg over his shoulder. He's even closer to you (if possible), but you're not really paying attention to what he's doing as long as his mouth and fingers are still working their magic on you. You pull him closer, chasing your sweet release, when suddenly, he pulls away.

You growl in anger, opening your eyes. He's still on his knees in front of you, his face covered in your juices, and he's staring at you hungrily as if his face wasn't buried in your pussy moments ago.

"Say my name." His demand throws you off balance for a moment. You open your mouth to argue with him, to taunt him, but instead you close it quickly, biting your lip as his finger lazily moves in and out of your needy pussy. "Scream my name and I'll let you cum."

You don't want to give in to him like that. You don't want to show any weakness. But his fingers stretch you so wonderfully, hitting your most sensitive spot. You tremble around his fingers, biting your lip until it draws blood, too proud to admit to yourself how weak you were.

You escaped from the Bene Gesserit and from your fate to the only safe place; it's darkest under the lamp. No one in their right mind would willingly hide in the house of the man to whom you were supposed to submit. But it turned out that you were following the path these witches laid out for you anyway. But damn, he made you feel like you'd never felt with any man or woman...

You growl furiously as he removes his fingers again—right when you're finally about to come. He laughs hoarsely, sucking his fingers clean of your wetness.

"You're extending my fun, little witch. You must like it as much as I do." You protest as he dips his fingers inside you again, taking you close the edge again. You grab his neck, trying to pull him towards you, but he just laughs, intensifying the work of his fingers and fending off your feeble attempts to pull his face back to your needy cunt. "You know what you have to do to cum." He reminds you with a cocky smirk, watching your trembling, panting form.

Feyd drinks in the sight of you, so needy and desperate to orgasm. And it's all because of him. Every little moan, the closing of your eyes and the tilt of your head in pleasure, the ragged breathing, the quickening of your heartbeat, the wetness between your legs, the sweet nectar of the gods dripping down your thighs—it was all because of him. His cock hardens as he imagines how you'll react as he pounds into you like an animal in heat, stretching your tight walls for him. How you'll clench around his length and dig your nails into his back to feel him as close to you as possible. Or when you swell beautifully with his heir...

He will have you there. Willingly. He will prepare you as he is now; he will fuck out of you any thought until nothing except the desire for him remains.

"Feyd..." You moan as he unconsciously speeds up the movements of his fingers, thrusting them into you at breakneck speed. He smiles, blowing air at your pussy, making you moan even louder.

"Again." He demands, licking the small trail of your juices that has formed on your thighs. He welcomes the way you wet his hand and your shawl that was wrapped around his wrist. He'll save it for later this night.

"Feyd!" You pull on his head and he obliges. He couldn't be cruel to you in this state.

You come suddenly, quickly, and intensely. Your vision is blurry and unclear, and your blood is rushing through you as you moan loudly, holding on to him with all your might.

The next thing you know, he's holding you tightly by your trembling legs as he lowers you to his lap. You straddle him, hugging him tightly as you breathe slowly, trying to get back to a state of relative using after he fucked the orgasm of your life out of you. You hide your face in his neck, too disappointed in yourself to see the proud smirk on his face. He lazily rubs your back, holding you as you regain your strenght.

"You owe me, little witch. And you know, I always collect my debt." He growls hoarsely in your ear and presses a kiss on your temple. You can smell your scent on him. You blush, embarrassed, as you can feel desire rising in you again. "No response? Not a single malicious comment? Did I make you come so hard that now you are speechless? Are you really just a little mouse in need of my attention under that strong witch façade?"

"I'm not a fucking mouse." You snap at him in anger, finally coming to your senses.

"So that's the first one. Even better for me." He stands up, slowly carrying you from his lap to the ground. He reaches for your pants and helps you put them on. He grabs your hands and pulls you closer to him. You can't stand alone. You can't fucking stand alone. He laughs as he realises it, which irritates you to the point where you can't control yourself anymore.

"Shut up." You use your voice on him before you bite your tongue to stop yourself. Silence falls between you for a moment. You swallow, realising what you've done. You open your mouth to explain yourself, but, as usual, he beats you to it.

"Hmm… interesting. So you have that fire in you…" He tangles his hand in your hair and watches you closely, fascinated by the way you used your voice on him for the first time. "As sweet as I thought. Better than any water… Use that voice on me in a way I don't like, and I will really punish you, little witch. And this time, it will only be pleasant for me. Understood?" You nod your head with clenched teeth. "Good girl. Let's go. I believe they stopped dropping bombs right when you came on my face and fingers." He brags, letting you go when he sees you can stand on your own. You roll your eyes, realising how often he'll brag about it. You draw your blade and follow him, looking forward to hunting for Fremen.

You try to ignore the sand that… got where he was a few seconds ago and where he had it himself too. Damn bastard.

You walk through the corridors of your base. You're covered in blood, but it doesn't bother you much. Maybe a little when you remember that you will have to remove clotted blood from your hair. You sigh, adjusting the scarf around your neck that you took from some fremen to hide the hickeys as you walk to the war room to give new orders to the soldiers.

The Sietch has been completely destroyed by you. You murdered most of the fremen, and those left alive were taken prisoner... or to the camp brothel. You preferred not to go into details.

As you walk through the halls, you hear rustling behind you. You take a few slow steps and turn around, with your hand on your dagger, only to see na-Baron's harpies. You tense up as you watch the three women carefully and distrustfully.

"How can I help you?" You ask them, trying to avoid showing them genuine disgust and hostility. After all, they had somehow kept Feyd away from you… for now.

"The little witch is in trouble…"

"Our master will be very angry with her…"

"Maybe he'll even let us suck her bones when he's done with her…"

They say one by one, tilting their heads as they observe you. You shiver slightly, but you quickly adopt a hostile, intimidating stance, not caring much about what they say. They may have been cannibals, but you were a trained soldier and killer. You would kill them in a heartbeat if they weren't useful to you in some way.

"What do you want, vultures?" You growl at them, expecting them to get scared and return to their master's chamber, waiting for him like faithful dogs.

"The little witch's friend is here…"

"Our master is interrogating her…"

"And he learns very interesting things about the witch."

"When he's done with her, he'll be ours again."

"We will eat her meat and feast, celebrating our victory."

And what really should scare you more is the part about them saying they're going to eat you, but all you can think about is that friend he's interrogating. Another Bene Gesserit? Impossible. You made sure that everyone who came into contact with you either believed you were dead or forgot that you existed. Except for one… No. No, that wasn't possible.

"I have the blood of hundreds of rats on me. Get out of my sight unless you want yours to adorn my armor. And believe me… I will do it with great pleasure. I bet your master would fuck me on your corpse as a reward." You snap at them, still processing what may have been happening in the interrogation room. If your suspicions were true... you didn't even want to think about it. This couldn't be happening. You're paranoid. After so many years of keeping everything a secret... you couldn't lose control that easily.

You pay them no further attention and continue walking, ignoring their hisses and mocking laughter as you change your plans and head to the interrogation room.

You had to run away. As far away from here as possible. But if you do, he will chase after you. And when he finds you, and there is no doubt that he will, he will gut you and throw your remains to his harpies.

So you couldn't escape. You had to face him and try to tame him somehow. But how the hell are you going to explain to him that you ran away from the Bene Gesserit with him because you didn't want to be his concubine? Maybe a few years ago he would have understood it, but now that he has found this strange obsession with you, how could you get out of this situation? He'll cut you up before you even try to say anything.

You pass soldiers standing at the door of the interrogation room. They nod at you, letting you in as you hesitantly walk over to see for yourself if the situation is actually as dire as you think.

You feel the cold metal door on your back as it closes behind you with a bang. You freeze in place, swallowing nervously, as you see the Fremen Reverend Mother handcuffed to a chair. What scares you much more than the fact that it is really a Bene Gesserit is that it's Lady Jessica. Your former trainer in that sick sisterhood.

Feyd is standing right in front of her. His hands are gripped tightly around his daggers, and his gaze is focused on the woman in front of him. He strokes the blade of his dagger with his thumb as he is lost in his thoughts. He behaved as if he were completely oblivious to you, but you know him better than to even think for a while that he didn't notice your entrance. But he doesn't say anything as he continues to stare at her intently.

"She can tell you that herself. Right, Y/N?" Lady Jessica looks at you, raising an eyebrow defiantly. Even captured, she looks proud, as if she were the one who had power over what was happening in the room. "I should thank you. If it weren't for you, Paul would never have taken over the Kwisatz Haderach's way. No matter how hard I tried..."

"Feyd…" You ignore her and walk over to Harkonnen. You place a hand on his shoulder, but he just flinches at your touch, moving away from you. His eyes were fixed on the floor; he wasn't giving you even a single glance.

"I'm not surprised. If they sent me to breed with such a monster, I would also run away... not necessarily into his arms, but I really admire your skillful mind. To come up with such intrigue. No one would ever imagine that a little scared girl would run straight into the lion's mouth to take shelter there. I remember how you cried down my skirt when you found out what your mission was. I never would have imagined that my apprentice would go so far."

"Silence!" You shout at her, using the voice, and surprisingly, you succeed. You don't have time to try to understand what just happened—that you used your voice against a much stronger woman than you, the Reverend Mother. You walk up to Feyd and cup his cheek with your hand, forcing him to look at you.

His gaze is blank. He's wearing his mask, blocking out any emotions that might get through and reveal what he's thinking. He takes your hand and moves it away from his face, pushing you away from him like a bug.

"Would you like to see a monster, concubine of the Atreides? I'll be more than happy to show you one…" Before either of you can react, Feyd swings, creating a long gash across her chest. The woman gasps in shock, placing her hand on her wound, from which blood is now flowing down on the floor.

Before you can take a breath to talk some sense into him, he plunges the blade into her chest. You tremble as you hear the sound of cracked bones under the movement of his dagger and the witch's screams.

You don't do anything. You just stand there, watching as Feyd takes out his anger on her, disembowelling her. The metallic smell of blood hits your nostrils, but even that doesn't cause you to react. All you can do is stand and watch. And wait for your turn.

You feel sick as Lady Jassica's screams remind you of your friends who died on Arrakis. You deny what's happening in front of you as your thoughts return to that fateful day.

You weren't sent to Arrakis to try to survive. No, the plan created by Bene Gesserit was much worse. You were sent there to kill each other. This sick test was intended to eliminate weak individuals, leaving only one Bene Gesserit alive, the one who was the strongest among the young generation of women trained by these mad witches.

You were sent on one ship, thrown into the desert with weapons and one bottle of water, as an act of mercy. There were fifty of you. You killed half of them. Or at least that's what the Reverend Mothers told you after the Sisterhood took you back from there..

You were the only one left alive.

From that day on, you promised yourself that you would never let them control your life or make you go through these tests again. You didn't want to take part in their sick games ever again. You preferred to die rather than become their tool again, a monster that blindly follows their orders.

You never wanted to feel powerless or furiously frustrated again.

And now, standing there and staring blankly as Feyd killed the woman who was your mentor in front of you, you felt as if you were once again that helpless girl who is forced to do as she is told and who has no power over anything that is happening around her.

You flinch as blood reaches your shoes. You look up to see Na-Baron turning towards you. Blood was dripping down his armour as he cleaned his blades on her clothes, which were already soaked in blood.

For a moment, you delude yourself, thinking that it's not what you think. That he didn't actually discover the truth about your past in the Bene Gesserit by accident. That everything will be all right, just how it used to.

But by the look in his icy-blue eyes, you know he knows. He gives you the same angry, bloodthirsty glare that he gives his victims moments before they die. But there's something else there. Pain. Betrayal. Without knowing why, you feel a flood of guilt wash over you, outweighing your fear. But you didn't owe him anything. No loyalty or sincere devotion.

You gasp as he pushes you against the wall and presses the knife to your neck, breathing heavily. You feel it gently pierce your skin, causing blood to leak from the wound and run down your neck. He doesn't move away. He doesn't bend down to lick it off your skin. He presses further and harder, looking straight into your eyes. And you don't know if he's just testing you or if he really wants to kill you.

Suddenly, fucking him wasn't the worst solution to the situation you found yourself in...

Part IIITaglist: (I hope that everyone is here...) @thegabbyh @himesuedi @wo-ming-bai @beebeechaos @mamawiggers1980 @moonsoulk @avidreader73 @heartarianagran @dreamlandcreations @ancientbeing10 @lovereadingfanfic @jeansjoie @workof-a-rr-t @aixicl @ladyredstar1991 @evangelineimagine @hobobobo-fett56 @happyant3 @marsflys @aaaaaamond @kamcrazy123 @k1swass @yum-yahgurt @tyns13 @oh-you-mean-me @menari @tyns13

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